"Remind me again, lad, how I got volunteered for this duty?" Croad asked Starbuck, as he sat in the Rover's cockpit. It was like old home secton, sitting in the fighter. He couldn't get over the similarities to his Proteus ship as he familiarized himself with the instruments. In addition, an array of buzz words ran through his mind, which the lieutenant had used to try to get him up to speed on the local pirate dialect.

"Your accent is about right." Starbuck blinked, closing his eyes briefly as his abused gut protested his position, hanging off the side of the ship. He fought down the wave of nausea that was encouraging him to fill Croad's cockpit. "And I figured you could fly her since she came from the Frodo System. No problem." At first he had resentfully volunteered to do it himself, being the only one with actual flying experience in the small fighter, but then that image of the knee-slapping Enforcer popped into his mind. Croad was perfect.

"Who am I again?" Croad asked. At first the switch from shuttle pilot to inside operative had intimidated him, but now that he was back in a familiar environment, he was looking forward to the challenging mission. A real chance to prove himself since signing on as a Colonial Warrior after joining the Fleet at Proteus.

"Bex." Starbuck replied. "His voice was a bit deeper, and he was as mean as a toxic waste dump guard-daggit with rabies."

"And I don't have no bloody accent." Croad snarled, lowering his voice minutely.

"Meaner." Starbuck shook his head.

"Get the frack off my ship, or I'll blow yer leg off and feed it to you for dinner."

"Meaner." Starbuck shrugged. "And they don't say 'frack'." He reminded him.

Croad grabbed Starbuck's tunic, twisting it with his fist. He leaned close, almost nose to nose. "Don't ye bloody well be tellin' me how to do my job, astrum-wipe."

Starbuck grinned. "Ass-wipe."

"Bloody hell," Croad cursed, "I forgot." He let go of the warrior.

"Not bad though." Starbuck nodded, and then smiled mischievously. "Just be yourself."

Croad growled at him, then added, "Smells like something crawled up inside of ye and died there, lad."

"Perfect."

"Actually, me Bucko, I meant it." Croad shrugged.

Starbuck nodded, really not caring at this point. With a final pat on Croad's shoulder he jumped down to the tarmac, putting a hand on the Rover as a jagged pain shot through his abdomen, stealing his breath away and causing him to almost double over. He could feel his knees tremble, as his body wavered between continuing on, and cashing out his cubits now. Thankfully, he was out of sight of the others.

He could hear the hiss of the Rover's canopy as it lowered into place. With one more determined thought of Luana, he straightened his back and stepped away from the fighter in time for her to taxi down the runway for takeoff. Then, with a blast of hot air from her thrusters, the little fighter was gone.

----------

Croad could feel that familiar calmness settle over him which he always felt in a cockpit, as he navigated through the asteroid field in the old fighter. He nodded as he picked up the Rovers on his scanner, knowing that Bojay, who was standing by with Silver Spar, had been reading them since they had launched. It reassured him to know the pirates had likely just picked him up as well on their limited scanners.

"Bex, what the hell happened?" a voice asked over the comm. "You took off like wildfire!"

"Nothin'." Croad replied, lowering his voice as Starbuck had directed. He crossed his fingers, and prayed that the distortion of the comm line caused by the asteroid field would explain any oddities "Thought there might be a problem. Wasn't."

"So, you came back to welcome us home? Always knew you had a heart of gold beneath that gruff exterior."

"Hah! Actually, thought you lot could use a few flyin' lessons." Croad smiled.

"Really? I noticed you left the Colonial fighter back at base this time," laughed the other. "Was she too much for you, Bex?"

"Like ridin' a friggin' pedigree. Too bloody temperamental for my liking." Croad grinned as they drew closer to his position. He veered off on a heading towards where Bojay and his pilots were concealed. "Okay, form up on me. Dynamo Four is malfunctioning. We need to check it out."

"What happened with two?"

"Power fluctuation in the control circuits." Croad improvised, unsure if they were referring to the activation of it by Blue Squadron, or the deactivation of it by Starbuck and Dayton.

"Bloody hell," snarled another of the pirates. "I told you Krebs is sleeping on the job. When he's not just plain drunk."

"Not any more. I kicked his ass into next week." Croad shrugged, not quite understanding the phrasing, but pleased he remembered it all the same.

"There's four up ahead. Strange, I'm not reading her. She's dead as Dynamo two was."

"Then check her out." Croad ordered, feeling less exposed as two of the three fighters pulled ahead of him.

It was pure precision. He followed their progression with his scanner as he subtly throttled back on the power, and fell back behind the third Rover. Right on cue, six Vipers appeared from behind the sheltering cover of the larger asteroids. He activated his ship's attack scanner, and fired a shot which rocked the ship ahead of him. "Rovers, we are locked on target. Surrender or die." Croad grinned.

"Bex, what the hell is going on here?" screamed someone.

"This is Captain Bojay of the Battlestar Galactica," said the Silver Spar pilot, taking over. He fired a shot himself, directly across one Rover's bow. "I suggest you do as the man says."

"Bloody hell!"

----------

"Starbuck, I'd really appreciate you turning the recirculation unit up to full power on my bird." Giles ribbed the warrior from the pilot's seat in the shuttle, as he watched the two Vipers pull ahead of Sheba and Varick's. Rooke and Dickins were stabilized for transport, but still seemed to be keeping Med Tech Giselle occupied in the shuttlecraft. The mood had lightened considerably though, since Bojay had announced the surrender of the Rovers and their imminent return to the pirate base. "I don't think I could fly with stink de Starbuck in my nostrils for the rest of my career."

"Where do you keep the air-sickness bags, Giles? Can't seem to . . . " Starbuck heaved noisily over the comm, smiling as Giles screamed at him in return.

"You snitrad! If you weren't up to flying, you shouldn't have taken on . . .!"

"Just jerking your chain, Giles." Starbuck razzed, though an air-sickness bag wasn't such a bad idea at that. In fact, it was sounding better by the centon.

"What is it about bodily functions that always amuse men?" Sheba taunted them, the slight smile on her face betraying her own amusement. "Especially the less pleasant ones?"

"We're crass." Giles admitted with a smirk.

"And lacking in discrimination and sensibility." Varick added from her wing.

"Don't forget refinement." Boomer threw in from Starbuck's wing.

"Well, at least you've given it some serious thought." Sheba grinned as the distance between the two teams of Vipers increased.

"No, we're just reiterating what you told us last secton." Boomer reminded her.

"I'm surprised you were listening." Sheba remarked, once again checking her scanners.

"We weren't at first, but when you recorded the diatribe and sent it to each of us personally, and then spray painted 'men are insensitive porcines' across each of our Vipers . . . "

"Giles, what in Hades Hole are you talking about?" Sheba asked with a laugh, looking up.

"Giles, I told you, it was just a bad dream." Boomer reminded him. "Easy there."

"Oh, right. Sorry 'bout that, Sheba."

"Yeah, I'll bet." She returned as she looked back down at her instruments. "The scanners look clear from here. Good luck, guys. Give Luana a big hug for me when you see her, Starbuck."

"I will." Starbuck returned after a moment, remembering his last conversation with the lieutenant had been about how poorly he was treating Cassiopeia when she had ganged up on him with Athena in the OC. He didn't quite understand her sudden turnaround, but on the other hand, he knew Sheba didn't wish Luana any ill will either. He checked his environmental control, as his skin prickled with an unexpected coolness. It seemed fine. "Let's go, Boomer."

"Just remember, we're still in an asteroid belt." Boomer mentioned as his friend hit his turbos and blasted ahead.

"Oh? Is that why all those big rocks are out there?" Starbuck deadpanned. "I was wondering about that." He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing the Viper had built- in massage technology. There were so many improvements that could still be made to the so-called 'sophisticated piece of flying machinery'. Shiatsu Viper, the next generation of Colonial Fighters. Coming soon to a Battlestar near you.

". . . still there?" Boomer asked.

"Come again?"

"I lost you for a centon."

"No you didn't." Starbuck gave himself a mental shake. Not good for the mind to be wandering in an asteroid field, Bucko.

"Yeah, I did." Boomer shook his head. "As I was saying, the shuttle seems to be deviating from its programmed flight plan."

Starbuck looked at his own scanner. "So are Sheba and Varick. Sheba, come in."

"I already tried." Boomer reminded him.

"You did?" Starbuck asked. "You told me that?"

"Yeah, when you phased out a centon ago. Any of this sounding familiar, Bucko?" Boomer asked, with concern in his voice. "Hades' Chimes. Maybe you shouldn't be flying."

Starbuck tapped his scanner, his internal klaxon going off. "Boomer . . . "

"Oh, frack. Is it the Wraiths?" It hit Boomer just as suddenly.

"Let's go find out, buddy." They circled back towards the shuttle, their ships moving in perfect unison born of yahrens of experience.

"How many are there?" Boomer asked, realizing he didn't know. He adjusted his scanner.

"Four . . . as far as I know. Just remember, if they're jamming us, we'll lose our scanners and our instruments will be affected. I couldn't even pick up their communicator transmissions until I was out of their jamming range. Just be aware, you're better off operating everything manually, Boomer. Don't rely on the computer for anything."

"Great." Boomer replied. "Any good news?"

"Sure. There are only two each. If you're nice to me, I might let you have three."

"Lucky me."

"I'll hit them from the right." Starbuck altered his course setting to rendezvous with where he thought the shuttle should be.

"I have the left." Boomer veered off the other way circling around. His eyes narrowed as he searched the darkness for any detectable movement that might be a Wraith. Even a glint in the light of the distant sun. Apparently, they were aptly named. He checked his scanner; his stomach doing a flip as the large shuttlecraft abruptly disappeared. "Starbuck!"

"Don't get too excited, Boomer. That didn't read like a destruct. It might just be our scanners." Starbuck replied, though his heart was sitting in his throat. He checked the transponder signal from the shuttle. It was still there. For now. Maybe . . .

"Sheba and Varick?" Boomer asked, glancing down at his screen.

"I still have them . . . uh . . . gone." Starbuck replied, hitting his thrusters once again. As they vanished, so did their signals. The shuttle's was now gone too.

"Starbuck, my instruments are going crazy!"

"Yeah, my . . . too. Any vis . . . yet?"

"You're breaking up, Starbuck." It was almost as if the ships had disappeared. Any signals he was sending were merely bouncing off the asteroids like some kind of deflection system, and his navigational gear was more disorienting than helpful. "Wait, there's a Viper! Dead ahead. Starbuck, do you read me?"

Static was his reply. The fighter appeared to be alone, as it propelled forwards. Abruptly, its engines died, though its inertia continued to carry the ship on a deadly flight path . . . straight towards an asteroid. It struck him that this must have been what happened to Ensign Szabo. His Viper disabled by these Wraith machines, and then coasting out of control right into an asteroid before rescue was possible. Boomer swore while hitting his thrusters, distracted momentarily as a small, sickly yellow beam darted past him. He peered over his shoulder, but was unable to see where it came from. "Starbuck, I don't know if you can hear me, but they're armed. I repeat, they're armed!"

Boomer raced towards the disabled Viper, positioning himself beneath her, and gradually getting the nose of his ship up until he felt it grate against the underbelly of the other. The small amount of force was all that was necessary to change its course, and he continued to guide the other ship as he throttled back his engines, reducing speed for both ships.

A further beam shot past him, again as if from nowhere. "Starbuck! Where are you? I could use some help, buddy!"

As if in answer to his plea, lasers abruptly blasted past Boomer from the opposite direction and a burst of fire filled the darkness behind him . . . briefly illuminating another small ship only a couple hundred metrons off his port side.

Boomer immediately dropped his nose, feeling the Vipers separate. As soon as he was far enough away, he hit his thrusters, lasers blazing to illuminate the darkness before him. There it was! He briefly glanced at his attack scanner, and just as quickly discounted it, before lining up his target the old-fashioned way and thumbing the button. His fire ripped through the blackness, and there was a sudden ball of light. He'd hit the enemy craft dead center, blowing it away.

"Nice job." Starbuck told him, grinning as his sensors slowly came back on line.

"Thanks. Not so bad yourself." Boomer grinned. "Did you hear any of what I said?"

"Barely, my comm was down." Starbuck replied. "Varick, come in."

"Varick here. I was hit! I don't even know what by! My ship was steering like a frackin' freighter! I had to cut power. Thank the Lords you came along when you did, whoever that was . . . "

"It was Lieutenant Boomer." Starbuck informed him. "Can you run a diagnostic, Varick?"

"I'm trying, Starbuck!"

"Easy kid, just settle down. Take a deep breath . . . and if you have any interest in taking more in the near future, reboot your systems and run the systems check now," Starbuck coached him. Varick had been one of the cadets in his last class, graduating with Luana and Lia. He had proven to be more than a capable Colonial Warrior, coming through for them decidedly on the rescue mission on Alrin . . . not that Starbuck actually remembered much of it, but it had looked impressive on Boomer's report.

"Starbuck, I have Sheba and the shuttle on my scanner again. I'm going to go help her out." Boomer told him.

"Right. I'm be with you in a centon." Starbuck returned, watching the glow of his engines head in the direction of the shuttle. "Well, kid?"

"Everything looks okay now, Lieutenant." Varick answered hesitantly. He clicked a few more buttons. "All I needed to do was reboot?"

"Yeah. Who knew?" Starbuck answered lightly. It was like a diminished effect of the Dynamo, disabling the fighter's handling capability temporarily, but not affecting the pilot. He wondered where the pirates had stolen the technology from, and what kind of targets it normally was intended for. Well, at least it kept the adrenaline flowing, and the way he was feeling now, every bit would help. "Let's go, Ensign."