Chapter Nine

You could feel the tension in the air of Galactica's CIC.

Everyone was looking at the DRADIS display, willing that Nike's jump through hyperspace came off. As the minutes ticked away the tension got worse as people began to feel that something had gone terribly wrong, and Nike failed to appear on the DRADIS screen. Finally, when people were beginning to lose hope, a message came in over the radio.

"Galactica, this is Crawlback. I have Nike on my DRADIS display. Repeat, I have Nike on my DRADIS display." Everybody in the room took a deep breath, but no cheers broke out. Clearly Nike had made her jump through hyperspace, but it was equally clear that something had gone wrong. It only remained to find out just how wrong things had gone.

Adama picked up the communications handpiece. "Crawlback, this is the Admiral. Can you relay your DRADIS data to Galactica?"

"Yes, Admiral. Patching DRADIS through to you now." A moment later Galactica's main DRADIS display was updated with the information being relayed by Crawlback's Raptor. This brought muffled exclamations from Galactica's CIC crew.

"My Gods!" exclaimed Felix Gaeta. "That's quite a misjump!"

"At least they're in the general vicinity of where they were aiming for," replied Helo. "They didn't misjump out of the system."

Adama paid no attention to the mutters. He spoke into the hand piece. "All Raptors, this is the Admiral," he said. "I want you to close on Nike's current position and give me an overview of her condition. If you see anything wrong, tell me immediately." He waited for the acknowledgements, and then, nerving himself, he made the call he could not put off any longer. "Nike, this is Galactica, Nike, this is Galactica, do you copy, over?"

There was no response, save for the hiss of static. After a minute, he repeated himself. "Nike, this is Galactica. Do you copy, over?" There was a hint of tension in his voice now.

Finally, through the distortion of static, Saul Tigh's voice came on. "Galactica, this is Nike. Sorry for the scare, we were a little busy over here, but we copy, over."

It was only then that the cheers broke out in Galactica's CIC. Adama smiled, swallowed the lump that had been growing in his throat, and then, when he had regained his self-control, spoke into the handpiece again. "Nike, this is Galactica Actual. Saul, do you have any idea how many years you may have just taken off of my life?"

"We've probably lost the same amount of years, Bill. For a moment there I honestly thought we weren't going to make it," said Tigh.

"What happened?" asked Adama. "It's clear you misjumped, but from the distance it looks as though it may not be as bad as it could have been."

"It didn't feel that way over here, I can tell you," replied Tigh. "We were reading a slight disharmony in the engine synchronisation before the jump. However, it was well within acceptable parameters. When we made the jump, though, it spiked. Obviously it wasn't too bad, since we're here in the same system in one piece."

"What's your status now, Nike?" asked Adama.

"We've still got power, life support and artificial gravity," replied Tigh. "The manoeuvring drives are on line and functional. Hyperdrive's offline, but Tychon says he got some good readings during the jump. He thinks he now knows what went wrong now that he has some hard data to play with"

"When do you think you can join the Fleet, Nike?" asked Adama.

"We're under way now, Galactica. ETA is about three hours."

Finally, Adama allowed himself a smile. "Good to hear, Saul. I'll see you when you get back. I think I may still have a bottle of ambrosia secreted somewhere. We'll share it when you get back to Galactica."

"Bill, I think I can speak for everybody over here that we could all use a drink right now after this!" replied Tigh. You could easily hear the wry grin in his voice.

"I'll keep that in mind. Galactica, clear." Adama put down the handpiece and turned to Tyrol and Roslyn. "Chief," he said, "congratulations on a job well done. Now go and get yourself and your family planetside." Tyrol braced to attention, and left.

Adama then turned to Roslin. "Not as smooth as we'd hoped for," he said, "but much better than we had feared."

"Will there be any further troubles with the hyperdrive?" Roslin asked. "I know that having Nike will be a major boost to our capabilities, but not if we are going to have to go through something like that every time we jump through hyperspace!"

Adama shook his head. "Colonel Tigh says the hyperdrive engineer got some good readings on the drive," he said. "He thinks he now knows what went wrong. Once he gets that fixed, we should have no further troubles with Nike's drive."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," Roslin said. "Now, I have to go and organise a reception for Colonel Tigh and his men." She held her hand up to forestall any protest by Adama. "I know that Colonel Tigh will be uncomfortable with what he feels is 'civilian nonsense,'" she said, "but I think you may understand what this will mean for the Fleet as a whole. They will expect some gesture of gratitude to the Fleet's newest heroes. Even if they will claim they were 'only doing their duty.'" She looked at Adama. "Looking after that is a part of the job, you understand," she said.

Adama looked back. "I happen to agree, Madame President," he said. "And not only the civilians: the military personnel will expect something like what you have described as well. Do wonders for morale."

"Well, Admiral, it appears we both have jobs to do," said Roslin. " I believe we had best be off doing them."

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Flag Bridge, HMS Basilicata.

"So they made it."

'Abal sat back with some relief and looked at the display glowing in her holotank. It showed the complete tactical situation in the system. One icon indicated Nike as she moved to rejoin the rest of the refugee Fleet, clearly under her own power.

"Yes, but it wasn't as smooth as we'd hope it'd be," said Captain Jaidev. His image floated off to one side of the TAC display. "They misjumped, but not by too bad a margin."

"What was the feedback like from the misjump?" 'Abal asked. "And could it have been detected outside this system?"

"Obviously our sensors detected it," Jaidev replied. "However, according to the sensor net, it was not all that strong. I honestly doubt that it would have been detectable outside this system. And we have detected no signs of Raptor activity anywhere. If they have jumped insystem, we would know about it."

"What does Commander Obata have to say about the misjump?"

"Obata's been playing around with the data he got from the sensor net, the drones, our own sensors and the beacon's feed," Jaidev replied. "He's pretty sure from the way the disharmony in the drives spiked when they jumped that it is simply a matter of resynching the drives themselves, plus resolving some outstanding equipment clashes they currently have. Nothing they can't fix themselves."

"So we won't have to intervene?"

"We won't have to, but Obata tells me that he can subtly feed into their drive programming some solutions that can help with their problems," Jaidev said. "But he feels that is a last resort option. I agree. If we were going to do that, we may as well introduce ourselves to them, explain the situation and escort them to Sandoval."

"My assessment exactly," said 'Abal. "Unless we have no choice, we stay silent. Have the squadron reduce back to Yellow Three, and keep me informed of any developments. 'Abal, clear." She closed the window containing Jaidev's image, and then got out of her chair. "You have the watch," she said to her exec. "I'll be in my cabin."

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Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, Off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.

Caprica Six hurried into the control room. Representatives of all the other humaniform Cylon types were already there, positioned at the control surfaces.

D'anna Biers looked over at Caprica Six. "Good of you to be able to finally join us, Caprica," she said.

"I was busy helping the team that is working on the software package," she replied. "What's this meeting about?"

"We've finally managed to download the astrogation data from the Requisitus," said an Eight. "We've married that data to the star charts we were making as we entered this area of space. We now know the location of the system where the expeditionary force was attacked by those... things."

Caprica said nothing as she took her place at one of the control surfaces. Placing her hands on the surface, she linked herself to the data stream. Immediately her mind projected into her vision centres a map of the region. At the centre a red star pulsed angrily.

This star is where the expedition was attacked, the voice of the Eight who had spoken echoed inside her conscious mind. From what we managed to download from the Requisitus, the base star that launched it was going to try a random jump in an area that is twenty light years in diameter. As the voice spoke, a transparent sphere enclosing an area of the specified diameter flashed into existence. They first launched the beacon and then tried this jump in an effort to ensure that any future expeditions out in this direction would find something.

This was a desperation move! echoed another voice.

Considering the savagery of the attack we witnessed from the data that we have recovered, such a move is completely understandable, replied another. At least if they managed to pull the jump off we would also be able to recover the base star's memory cores.

That is, if those... things haven't found it first, replied the second voice.

We feel that there is little likelihood of the aliens finding the base star, replied the Eight. The data indicates only the potential maximum of the jump, which is up to ten light-years.

Forgive my scepticism, echoed the voice of a Cavil, but a sphere some twenty light-years across is still a sizeable amount of space to search!

They said that they were aiming for a system, in order to make any search easier, echoed the voice of a Three. There are not that many systems within the area of space to be searched. We can easily flood the systems to be searched with Raiders. Eventually, we'll find the base star and recover both it and its data.

Where do you suggest we begin the search? asked the voice of a Simon.

Caprica Six decided that it was time for her to speak up. First of all, I would suggest that we either completely avoid the system they were attacked in, she said, or leave it until last. I discussed it with Gaius, and he recommended that we do our best to avoid the aliens until we were prepared to encounter them on our terms.

Discussing things with Gaius? Be careful, Caprica. Some may say that your pet human is too heavily influencing you. The mocking voice was clearly that of Biers.

"He comes up with some pretty good notions, D'anna. Something you might learn if you cared to ask!" Caprica Six snapped. "After all, it was he who managed to save us from being completely overrun by that package!"

"Easy, Caprica!" said a Corbin. "I'm sure that D'anna only meant it as a friendly caution."

"That is besides the point," said another Three. "The point is, do we take up Caprica's suggestion on how to conduct the search?" A quick poll decided that the best way to conduct the search was to flood the various systems with Raiders, but to use the general pattern Caprica Six had suggested. There was also broad agreement that it would be best if they avoided all contact with the aliens until they were more certain of how to deal with the threat they represented.

"Incidentally, Caprica, how is the research into that... package going?" asked a Five.

"With the additional team members, it's going well," Caprica Six responded. "I must admit, though, the more I learn about that... package, the... Well, let's say that we were very lucky."

"Will we have a viable defence against it?" asked a Simon.

"We will. However, Gaius has asked me to convey a warning with that message."

"What sort of warning?" asked Biers.

"We will be able to defend ourselves against that package, or something like it," Caprica Six said, "but Gaius asks me to warn you that the package is over eighteen years old. He cannot fully guarantee at this point in time that it will be possible to protect us completely against the latest version the aliens may have. We are, however, trying to extrapolate possible developments and come up with possible defences. He suggests that we do adopt the idea of using what Colonial Fleet systems we have as a kind of filtration system on our communications and DRADIS circuits, with whatever we can come up with as a means of scrubbing all input through those systems."

"And of using something like it as an offensive weapon?"

"Again, we will be able to do that, but with the same caveats in place. However, he thinks that we may be able to come up with some twists that may at least delay anybody we use it against."

"Caprica, do you think you can spare Baltar for a while?" asked another Five. He looked around at the raised eyebrows. "The group I'm working with have come across some interesting images from the security video. We're not too sure what they are, but he might be able to give us some idea."

"We would also like him to help us in our analysis of the DRADIS data," said another Simon. "There are some readings that he may be able to help us identify."

"Excuse me, but when did the Cylon race become the 'Gaius Baltar Appreciation Society?'" demanded Biers. "He's a human, for God's sake. Why do you think he's some sort of superbeing?"

"He may be a human, D'anna," replied an Eight, "but, as he also reminded us, he was a Colonial defence scientist. He may have insights into the data we have that are based on what knowledge he may possess about Colonial Fleet projects."

"Besides, he's now become too important a resource to waste," said a Simon. "God would want us to use him to help further His Plan."

Caprica Six hid a smirk at Biers' annoyed look. "I'll speak to Gaius and see if we can allocate some of his time with your groups," she said to the Cylons who had put forward their requests. Then, recalling a distant memory, she giggled.

"And what do you find so amusing?" asked Biers.

"You know, this is exactly the sort of situation Gaius told you about, D'anna," Caprica Six replied. At Biers' blank look, she added, "Gaius was working mainly on Colonial Fleet computer systems, but, every so often, he would be consulted by various groups in the Colonial defence research establishment and, occasionally, by the Academy, on this or that project." With that, she turned and left the room, leaving behind a rather angry Biers.

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Commanding Officer's Quarters, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, Twenty-four Hours Later.

"Thank the Gods that's over," said Tigh as he sank into a chair. He tugged at the collar of his dress grey uniform, and then smiled as Adama set down a bottle and a pair of glasses on the desk. A newly acquired decoration hung from the front of his tunic.

Adama smiled at Tigh's statement. "I can understand your feelings," he said as he poured out two glasses of ambrosia. He then sat down and invited Tigh to pick up his drink, saying, "I did my best to try and get you out of it, but the President was... insistent."

"If you don't mind me saying so, Admiral, bull," said Tigh as he picked up his glass. "You had to go through something like that a couple of years ago, and it was as uncomfortable for you as it was for me. You probably relished the idea of me making an ass of myself in front of all of those people, being unable to get out of it yourself." Tigh threw back his head and took a long drink out of his glass. "Gods, that felt good," he said.

Adama smiled again as he refilled Tigh's glass. "Well, I do admit to some of what you're accusing me of," he said. "However, the President was pretty insistent on the need to 'reward the newest heroes of the Fleet.' I wasn't about to argue with her." He picked up his own glass and sipped from it. "Saul, what she said out there about a boost to the Fleet's morale wasn't all hot wind," he said. "Bringing Nike successfully through a jump has done wonders for morale. Several people are seeing it as an omen that we are now a lot closer to finding Earth."

Tigh snorted. "We just did our jobs," he said. "We were also damned lucky."

"And it's that luck that many in the Fleet are taking as a sign that we're near the end of our long journey," said Adama. "Things like this do mean a lot for fleet morale."

Tigh said nothing, but just grunted in acknowledgement, and took a sip from his glass.

Adama leaned back into his own chair. "So, what is the schedule for the refit?"

"Well, first we're going to patch the holes in the outer hull of the lower section of the ship," said Tigh. "At the same time, work crews will restore airtight integrity, life support and artificial gravity to the lower landing bays and the manufacturing facilities. Once that's finished, we then have crews set up quarters for the first elements of Nike's own crew as well as for the work crews. To make things easier for the various work crews, we're going to dock both the Astral Queen and Virgon Express to her."

Adama took a sip from his glass, and nodded. "When were you thinking of getting at least some of Nike's guns operational?"

Tigh shot a look at Adama. "I wasn't looking at getting them operational yet," he said, " at least, not until we'd finished patching the armour. You want me to?"

Adama looked thoughtful. "To be honest, Saul," he said, "I haven't quite made up my mind on that issue." He sipped again. "I suppose some of it is visceral unease at the thought of having an armed Cylon base star in the middle of the Fleet, even though it will be under our control. But, if the Cylons do show up unexpectedly, it wouldn't hurt to have some extra firepower in defending ourselves."

"I could assign some crews to replacing the suspect memory cores on the Cylon gun emplacements with ones that we've taken from the stores, wiped and put our own programming on," Tigh said," but that will take time from getting the rest of the ship ready. But if you feel it's necessary, I'll do it."

Adama said nothing for a while. He was quite clearly mulling over what Tigh had just said. "Put some crews on it," he said, "but not too many. The main priorities are still getting Nike spaceworthy enough that she can accompany the Fleet and restoring her airtight integrity so that we can ease some of the overcrowding in the Fleet."

"Do you want to discuss crew rosters?" asked Tigh.

"Provisionally, yes," said Adama. "I'm thinking of putting Lee in charge as her commander once she's got enough capacity to be considered combatworthy."

Tigh grunted. "No complaints from me on that score. Even though that stunt he pulled with Pegasus off New Caprica was bone-headed, it enabled us to get off of that rock. Still thinking of Helo as her XO?"

Adama nodded. "I know he's been doing a good job filling in for you while you're occupied with Nike's refit. He'll leave a big hole in Galactica's CIC. Do you think you could keep him informed on the course of the refit so that he can easily slot into the position when the time comes?"

"Shouldn't be a problem." Tigh sipped from his glass. "What about CAG?"

"Well, Starbuck can take over from Lee when he shifts over to Nike," Adama said. "She has managed to get her act together." Tigh gave a grunt in acknowledgement: Starbuck wasn't the only one to get her act together. "I was thinking of Kat. She did an adequate job off New Caprica: seems to have settled down. But Athena could also handle it."

"Athena could also make a good Operations Officer," Tigh said. "Hell, she has the capacity for it. And being a Cylon, she could easily help out if things go wrong with the Cylon equipment." Tigh took another sip. "Tychon could easily be Chief Engineer," he said. "Misjump aside, he's making good progress in the engineering department. I'd also keep his team together, as they're becoming quite familiar with Nike's engines and power plant."

Adama nodded. "I was thinking along those lines myself," he said. "We'll also transfer over the fabrication plant crew from Pegasus,' he added, "once the fabricators are online."

"Shouldn't take too long," Tigh said. "All we have to do is restore airtight integrity, life support, artificial gravity and power. Also, empty a few storage rooms and reconfigure them into crew quarters. We've also got to convert some others into water tanks," he added," since when the toasters modified the original design they converted the water tankage into tylium tanks. Which, in the long run, is actually a good thing, as we can use Nike as a fuel tanker for the Fleet. Hell, going over the original specifications for the base stars with Athena and the Chief we found that she has a complete tylium refinery."

"I didn't know that," said Adama. He put his glass down and threw his head back in thought. "That increases our refining capacity by quite a bit," he said. "What else have you found?"

"That's about all, so far," said Tigh. "There are the Raiders, of course, but we haven't had a close look at them yet. Athena tells me that the guiding intelligences in them are dead, so we'll have to clean them out before we can start to refit them for human use."

"On that note, what about the Hybrid?" asked Adama.

"I asked Athena about what we should do with it," Tigh said. "She simply said that we should just dump it in space along with the bodies of the dragons."

"Ok. And the Centurion bits and pieces?"

"Chief Tyrol suggested just hauling them over to the refinery ship for reclamation," Tigh said. "There's no conceivable way we could put them back together, even if we were so inclined." He looked at Adama. "Surely you don't want to put one together, Bill?" he asked.

Adama shook his head. "No. I don't like the idea of having chromejobs wandering about the Fleet," he said, "and I doubt I'm the only one who feels that way. However, it might be a good idea to see if we can reuse some of their armoured shell to outfit our Marines with high-quality body armour," he continued. "It could give them an edge if we encounter either the Cylons or the dragons."

Tigh nodded. "It could," he said. "I remember from the War that Centurion armour was tough. I'll speak to the armourer and see what he can do." He took another sip. "By the way, since I've been out of the loop, how is the reequipping of the Marines with the dragons' energy weapons coming along?"

"Quite well," Adama said. "Lieutenant Burrell and Gunny Mathias have set up a targeting range at the edge of the flight deck. They have to train in space suits, but Burrell thinks that may be a good idea, given that the Cylons prefer to turn off the life support and given that the dragons like to open a ship to vacuum. Come to think of it, it might be a good idea to have some of the fabrication plant design workers to come up with an armoured space suit for the Marines. That way, they can fight in vacuum."

Tigh nodded thoughtfully. "Could be a good idea," he said. "Wonder why nobody has thought of it before?" He emptied his glass and declined a refill. "Thanks, Bill, but I'd better be getting out of this damned monkey suit and back to Nike," he said as he got up out of his chair.

Adama rose with him. "Ok, Saul," he said. "Keep me posted on how the refit's progressing." He walked Tigh to the door.

"I'll send regular reports to Helo," Tigh said. "That way, I can keep the pair of you updated as to how things are progressing." He stopped at the door. "Going to talk to Lee about giving him Nike?" he asked.

"Not yet," said Adama. "I don't want him distracted from his current job: keeping an eye out for the Cylons.

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One Week Later.

With Nike's jump more-or-less successful, Adama ordered Flattop and her crew down onto the planet for some well-earned rest. The Fleet was now well into its rotation schedule, with vessels lining the southern edge of the great lake system that Adama had designated as a landing zone.

Some vessels, however, were assigned to stay down on the surface of the planet for longer than average. Most notable of these were the refrigeration vessels. Several of the Colonial Marines who had been assigned to stand watch over the ships as they took on water and aired out reported that there were large numbers of horned animals of several varieties in the area surrounding the lakes. Some of them had been shot and, on examination, had been found to be quite edible. So it was decided that hunting parties, concentrated on the refrigeration ships, would take the opportunity to replenish the Fleet's stocks of frozen meat. In addition, the hides also served to make several objects that would help life onboard more tolerable.

Reconnaissance flights were also mounted over the 'dragon's' settlement. These showed that the 'dragons' had, relics of their technological origins aside, regressed technologically back to a fairly primitive level. This information was brought back to Galactica. Since they were concentrated in a broad river valley on another continent, they were considered to be of no real threat to the Colonials. They did, however, feature on the Fleet News Service, as did progress reports on Nike. Little did the Fleet's "Press Gang" realise that their most avid listeners were not on the ships of the Fleet. They were the duty officers and AIs of the vessels of the Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron, which hovered around the Fleet under stealth. Every transmission was faithfully recorded, scrupulously examined and condensed into a daily summary which was handed to Commodore 'Abal, The original telecasts were even relayed amongst the light cruisers themselves, providing the crews with much needed entertainment. By now, thanks to the efforts of Ibn Siena and the other AIs, the Terrans' biochip implants now contained an impressive dictionary of the Colonial language, which was reinforced by the daily broadcasts.

Although the sensor platforms had been deployed, 'Abal still maintained a watch on the refugee fleet via a network of drones which were rotated whenever they needed maintenance. On one occasion a drone had actually been spotted by a patrolling Viper pilot, but had been dismissed as a lump of space rock. The drones had also observed combat exercises between groups of Vipers and Raptors (the name of the latter had been a source of wry amusement amongst the crews of the light cruiser squadron), with the information being stored for later reference.

It was almost anticlimactic when one of the possible events 'Abal had been expecting finally happened.

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Immediately after they had completed their jump into the system's outer fringes, the flight of Cylon Raiders began their search pattern. This was the third system that this particular flight had visited. They first began to sweep around the outer edge of the system, their DRADIS arrays fully active. This would serve two purposes: to help them find the missing base star, and to alert them of any possible contact with the aliens. They did not know, of course, that their emergence from jump had been registered on the passive sensor suites of the platforms that 'Abal's squadron had deployed. Nor were they aware that their DRADIS sweeps were, even now, lighting up the passive sensors like Christmas trees. Not that they knew what it was, of course.

The platforms' AIs correlated the data they received against their extensive data banks (which both Cylons and Colonials would have quite happily killed to be able to access) and came to a conclusion: the emissions recorded were of an unknown group, but clearly of a technology level that was rated at mid-23rd Century levels. As soon as this conclusion was made, they immediately sent a focussed burst hyper transmission to the nearest drone, which in turn relayed it to Basilicata. It was received by her hyper transmission receptors, processed through the communications buffer, and sent to the duty sensor station, where it set off a blinking alarm.

The duty senor tech saw it, and opened the data package. He scanned it, and then called up the watch officer. "Excuse me, sir," said the tech, "but I've just received a transmission from the sensor platforms. We've just had a group of unknown vessels jump in system and begin a sensor sweep of the outer area."

The watch officer came over. "Raptors?"

"Not according to the warbook analysis," replied the tech. "Unknown, but rated at mid-23rd Century. I'm doing a data comparison with the shipboard data base now, including technology projections done by FleetIntel." As soon as the comparison was done, the tech examined the results, and then said, "Sir, I think you should see this."

The watch officer looked at the results. Moving quickly, he returned to the command chair and activated the communicator. "Flag Bridge, this is the watch officer," he said. "I have something that the Commodore should see."

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"How old is this data?" 'Abal asked.

"Fresh off the sensor network, ma'am," said her flag lieutenant. Next to him was Commander George Nakajima, her chief of staff. "Commander Nakajima was on duty in the flag bridge at the time this came in."

'Abal turned to Nakajima. "I take it that we now have a live feed coming in from the platforms?" she asked.

Nakajima nodded. "First thing I got Lieutenant N'Kombe to establish," he said. "I then called Captain Jaidev. He's now on the bridge."

'Abal nodded in approval. "Nicely done, George," she said. She strode over to the tactical holotank that stood in the centre of her flag bridge. On it burned the icons representing the force of Cylon ships scouting the outer system. "I take it we have drones heading out there for a closer look?" she added.

"Yes, ma'am," Nakajima said. 'Abal was about to say something else when the communications plate next to her command chair chimed.

"Answer," she said. Immediately Jaidev's image appeared above it. "Something new, Jai?" she asked.

"They've just jumped further insystem," he said. "They're heading straight for the refugee fleet."

"Shit," 'Abal quietly said. "How did they find them?"

"They must have picked up the radio transmissions," Jaidev said. "They look as though they're about to... I've just heard. The fleet's sensor piquet has just picked them up."

"What are they doing?" 'Abal asked.

"Adama's just scrambled a full deck of his aerospace craft," Jaidev said. "He's also trying to scramble the ships on the surface. They've got people out in the woods and it looks as though it's going to take time to get the all embarked."

'Abal didn't hesitate. "Jai, bring the squadron to Yellow One," she said.

"Aye, ma'a... Sensors report that our visitors have just jumped out. Looks like they've gone for their friends."

"Belay that order," 'Abal said. "Have the squadron beat to quarters." Without waiting for acknowledgement she ran to her day cabin, undoing her uniform as she went. Her two staff officers also ran from Basilicata's flag bridge, similarly undoing their uniforms as they went.

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Throughout the squadron crew members paused in whatever they were doing as the brassy tones of a bugle, rather than the high-pitched tones of a bosun's pipe, called their attention to orders. A bugle usually meant trouble was not far behind. As soon as they heard the first sound of snare drums beating out the tattoo of "Clear for Action" everyone, save for the duty watch, stopped whatever they were doing and ran for their action station lockers, unfastening their uniforms along the way. Since Imperial warships had their crews' sleeping quarters and mess and recreation facilities near their assigned action stations, this did not take too long.

Once they arrived in their action station locker rooms, each crewmember ran for his or her individual locker. As soon as they arrived they immediately slapped a plate that took both fingerprint and DNA readings. As soon as these were identified the lockers slid open. The crewmembers, however, did not wait until they had opened to begin completely disrobing. As they disrobed, they threw items of uniform into a receptacle in the locker. After the action was over, and they returned to put their suits back into the same receptacle, they would find their uniforms cleaned and neatly pressed.

As soon as they were completely naked, they began to pull on their armoured skinsuits. Skinsuits differed from old-fashioned space suits as they were a construct of several different layers of elastic material that hugged the body like a second skin. The suits themselves regulated body temperature and, through the internal plumbing (always the bit that took the longest to fit) they took care of bodily wastes. They also recycled air through a process where the carbon atoms in exhaled air were stripped from their attached oxygen atoms. The carbon had to go somewhere, though, and was deposited in the recycling packs that were attached to the back of the suit. The last item to go on was a helmet, which was lighter, but stronger, than those used by the Colonials. It was also less bulky.

Once in their suits, they raced for their action stations, with those crew who were off-duty when the alert sounded replacing the duty watch, who then ran for their own suits. Those who manned weapons stations sat down in their control couches, and were fastened in by shock webbing. Their suits also fastened themselves, via the plumbing arrangements, to outlets that would allow any waste products to be sent to the ship's own recycling apparatus. Their helmets were also attached, via a flexible mount, to data ports that would feed weapons data (including targeting data) to the crew.

The weapons stations on a unit of the Imperial Navy tended, as a rule, to consist of point defence (which also acted as AAA), capital lasers, missile tubes and particle cannons. Point defence weapons were a variety of high-speed pulse lasers that were fed through a rotating prism arrangement that focussed the beam at its intended target. Capital lasers operated in an identical manner, while missile tubes, which were attached to bins of anti-ship missiles, used internal coil mounts to eject the missiles out of the ship a safe distance before their drives lit off. As the missiles were initially aimed by shipboard telemetry and could steer themselves, they, like most of the weapons on a warship, could be aimed into one of the vessel's two "kill zones."

The most complicated weapons, and easily the most powerful, were the particle cannons. These were turret mounted weapons, and consisted of a dome-like turret that allowed the long barrels of the particle cannons to be aimed in a 360 degree arc on the horizontal and a 180 degree arc on the vertical. They were intended to smash their way through energy shields and armour. While point defence, missiles and capital lasers were controlled by weapons stations that were dedicated to whole areas, the particle cannon turrets each had their own dedicated weapons station.

Before long, the crews of 'Abal's squadron were at their stations. If Adama or Tigh had seen them clearing for action, they would have been impressed at the speed in which they went for their action stations. They would also have been worried. 'Abal's crew moved much faster than any human beings they had ever seen, faster even than Cylons. They were, however, save for their biochips, not cyborgs.

When Terran humanity first encountered the Raptors, they had been well on the way to using the techniques of genetic manipulation they had extracted from the Repositories to remove all known genetic diseases from the human genome. Encountering the Raptors soon brought the issue of improving the standard human being onto the genetic agenda. By the latter centuries of the third millennium "standard" humans were far stronger, faster and tougher than unmodified humans, and with much quicker reflexes. If a humaniform Cylon ever encountered a Terran in unarmed combat, they would quickly find themselves on the losing end of the bargain. Not only were Terrans faster, stronger and had better reflexes, they tended to also have a knowledge of one or more esoteric martial arts. This was not all that surprising, as the average Terran tended to measure his or her lifespan in centuries. (They did not know, however, what their maximum lifespan was, since they had a tendency to get themselves killed, usually fighting Raptors. Some wits said that they would not be surprised if their species had accidentally gained immortality.)

The last members of 'Abal's ships' companies to reach their action stations were her Marines contingents. This was, however, not due to anything that might have been lacking in their training. It was simply that putting on suits of powered battle armour did tend to take somewhat longer, even with the assistance of what were termed "squirebots."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Abal returned to her flag bridge clad in her armoured skinsuit. She sat in her command chair, which automatically fastened her in. Her staff were already in their positions, with her chief of staff and flag lieutenant in movable chairs. "Any developments?" she asked.

"They're still mustering ships," replied Nakajima. "However, they've also been sending out a set of coordinates that are keyed to their own mapping system. Good thing that we've managed to get a copy of that map they uploaded into the navigation system of that derelict ship they've been salvaging. No sign of these 'Cylons' yet."

"So far, so good. Have we been able to correlate their map with our own?"

"Avicenna and the other AIs have been working on that," replied Nakajima. "He says that we should be able to find them without any problem. It's going to be after we locate them that will be interesting."

"In the Chinese meaning of the word, no doubt," 'Abal said. She looked over at the tactical display. The icons of her squadron, as well as the green icons of the refugee fleet, burned brightly in it. She touched a contact, and brought up Jaidev's image. He was seated in his command chair on Basilicata's bridge.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked.

"Jai, I've got something in mind in case these 'Cylons' do show, and I'm inclined to think they will, before the refugees manage to bug out," she said. Using her controls, she showed on Jaidev's tactical repeater what she had in mind. "Think we can do it?"

Jaidev grinned. "No problem," he said. "By the looks of things, these 'Cylons' are using sensors that can't penetrate our stealth systems. I'll get onto the other captains and pass your orders on."

"Good." 'Abal didn't close the circuit. Instead, she looked back at her own tactical display, observing her tactical decision being put in place. Suddenly, several bright red icons appeared in the vicinity of the refugee fleet and started moving towards it. "Showtime," she muttered to herself. She faced her signals officer. "Squadron channel, then open a wireless channel on the frequency for the refugee fleet, she said."

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Cylon Base Star, Several Minutes Earlier.

A mood of sudden excitement suddenly gripped the Cylons. They rushed towards the control room, with a confused Gaius Baltar in their wake. "What now?" he demanded.

Caprica Six looked at him as they both rushed towards the control room. "They've found the base star," she said. "And you wouldn't believe who has it."

"Not the aliens, I hope," said Baltar.

Caprica Six shook her head. "The Colonials," she replied."

"You're kidd... No, you're not," Baltar said. "Mind you, that has got to be the most unlikely development ever encountered."

"Indeed it is," Caprica Six replied. "And, according to the reports, it looks as if they've been salvaging it."

"So that also means they've recovered the memory cores." His pace picked up. "Is there any indication they've been affected by the package?" he asked.

"Caprica Six shook her head. "No," she replied. "Which means that you were right about the effect the package has had on Colonial Fleet systems."

"So, what are you going to do? About their having both the base star and the cores?" asked Baltar."

Caprica Six halted, and smiled at Baltar. "Why," she replied, "we're going to ask them to give them back." With that, she continued on to the control room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

CIC, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, at approximately the same time.

"All Viper squadrons have been scrambled," reported Helo. "Colonel Tigh reports that Nike is ready to jump when we are."

"Status of the Fleet?" asked Adama.

"The new emergency jump coordinates have been issued," Helo said. "However, we are still experiencing some difficulties in recovering personnel on planet."

"Tell them to hurry up,' said Adama. "If the Cylons show up before they're ready, we'll have to leave them behind."

"Sir, I have to remind you that the ships on planet include several of our cold storage vessels," Helo said. "If we leave them behind it will cut down on the Fleet's supplies quite significantly."

"I know," said Adama. "We'll send Nike and the ship currently in orbit onwards, and then cover the others as they get off planet."

"It's a good thing that we were able to transfer some of Nike's nukes over to Galactica,' Helo said. "That should even things up somewhat."

"Plus the additional ammunition," said Adama. "Pity we couldn't complete the armour refit, but what we have on now is an improvement." He continued to watch the DRADIS display.

Suddenly, several bright red icons appeared on the display. "Multiple contacts, I repeat, multiple contacts," said Helo. "Six base stars have jumped in system."

Adama picked up the handset. "Saul, you are ready to jump out?" he asked.

"Just give us the word and we are gone," Tigh replied. "I'm not too happy about leaving you here by yourself, though."

"Part of the risk we took staying here for so long," Adama replied. His eyes were still fixed on the DRADIS display, seeing several ships finally rejoining the Fleet in orbit. Suddenly...

"Missile launch! I'm reading multiple missile launches!" shouted out a technician.

Adama spun towards him. "The Cylons?" he demanded.

"No, from behind us!" shouted the technician. "I make it... one hundred missiles?"

Adama spun back towards the DRADIS display. Sure enough, the icons of one hundred anti-shipping missiles sped across the screen. Two additional icons marked their launch point. Unlike the Cylon base stars, however, these were tagged as unknowns.

"Targets?" Adama asked?

His question was answered by the missiles themselves. They shot past the Fleet and, before his incredulous eyes, each one separated into at least five separate warheads, which then focussed on their intended targets.

The Cylon base stars.

The screen suddenly went white as five hundred warheads detonated in front of the Cylon vessels. When it cleared, the Cylons were still there. They had, however, stopped moving.

There was a stunned silence. Then, Helo turned to Adama. "Sir," he said, "there's a transmission coming from the unknowns. It's on the Fleet channel, and it's in fluent Colonial."

For a while, Adama said nothing. He just stood looking at the display, his attention fixed on the unknowns. Then, he said, "Put it on the speakers." After a moment, an accented voice speaking in fluent Colonial, came over the speakers.

"...act" it said. "Message repeat! This is Commodore Dame 'Abal bint Abd-al-Karim of the Terran Imperial Navy. You are operating in a restricted system as so designated by the Emperor in Council and by the Articles of War and the Defence of the Realm Act. You are instructed to power down all weapons systems, defensive fields and to land all military aerospace craft immediately. Failure to comply with this directive will be taken as a hostile act." Silence gripped the Galactica's CIC as the message began to repeat itself. Then Adama spoke into the handset.

"Comdore Abal? This is Admiral William Adama of the Colonial Fleet. We are a refugee fleet fleeing from the vessels in front of us. I would like to comply with your directive, but I have a much higher duty to defend the ships under my protection."

"Admiral, I am very much aware of who you are," replied the voice. "I can guarantee the safety of your vessels and their passengers. I command a light cruiser squadron that is operating in this system. Although you have not been aware of it, you have been under our protection ever since we became aware of you. You can safely land your aerospace craft."

A hushed muttering broke out in the CIC. Adama well understood what had caused it. The owner of that voice seemed quite confident of carrying out her intentions.

Suddenly another voice cut into the hubbub. It was one that was easily recognisable to everybody in CIC, as it had appeared on the Fleet's nightly video reports, before it possessor was revealed to be a Cylon agent. "You seem very assured of yourself, for someone who only has two ships," said the voice of D'anna Biers. "Even though they are quite large."

"What makes you think these are the only ships I have under my command?" 'Abal replied. As if she had spoken some word of command, four more monster ships appeared on Galactica's DRADIS display, this time squarely behind the Cylons. "As you can see, I'm not alone," she said. "We only fired one broadside's worth of missiles," she continued. "You're now square in the 'kill zone' of four of my vessels. That means you are now being targeted by four hundred missiles, each of which carries five short-range attack missiles that are independently targetable. By the way, the contact nukes we exploded in front of you aren't what we use in ship-to-ship combat. Your call." Silence gripped the airwaves. Then, one by one, the Cylon base stars disappeared from Galactica's DRADIS display. Just before the last one disappeared, Biers' voice came over the airwaves again.

"We'll be back," she said.