At three months before the fortieth anniversary of Armistice Day, I was surprised to find an unexpected visitor into my office.
"Commodore, I was told that I need to see you concerning getting the CNP installed here at this facility," the woman stated as she walked in.
"I am afraid that you have wasted your time coming all the way out here, Ms….." I trailed off waiting for her name.
"It's 'Miss' Julie Inviere, Commodore. And I have authorization from the President's Office to install the CNP on ALL Colonial ships," she stated rather pompously.
"Presidential Authorization doesn't change the laws of programming and Computers, MISS Inviere," I retorted.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "The CNP is compatible with all Colonial computer systems, Commodore! It was designed that way!"
"No, Miss Inviere, it is compatible with all CURRENT colonial computer systems. In case you hadn't noticed, the vast majority of the vessels here are War Era or just after," I said pointedly.
"Commodore, I know for a fact that you Active Defense Group is compatible," she argued.
"That it is, Miss Inviere," I agreed. "But then those ships wouldn't be fully compatible with the rest."
"Commodore, I must insist that you allow me to complete my task, or I will be forced to lodge a complaint with the President's office," she said boldly.
I had to chuckle.
"No."
"What?!" She exclaimed in shock.
"What part of the 'NO' did you not understand, Miss Inviere, the 'N' or the 'O'?" I asked her as if I were speaking to a child.
She got up and started stomping to the door.
"Miss Inviere, we aren't finished," I said harshly. "SIT DOWN!"
My tone caught her up short.
"Excuse me?" she retorted indignantly.
"I did not stutter, Miss Inviere. I said sit down. We are not finished here."
I could see the anger in her eyes, but it was mixed with curiosity. She returned to my desk but refused to sit down.
I did not speak until she did.
"That's better. I'm sure that you will want to hear what I have to say, Miss Inviere."
She snorted derisively but did not speak.
"The true reason that I made sure that our systems won't accept the CNP is not because they are old, Miss Inviere, quite the contrary. All of our computer systems are quite new. They were designed on a completely new theory."
"I made it a requirement when I had them commissioned, in fact. Would you like to know why, Miss Inviere?" I asked in a tone meant to set her on edge.
"Why?" She asked through gritted teeth.
"Because I didn't want them falling prey to the backdoor your Sister Six duped Baltar into installing in his vaunted CNP," I said, looking into her eyes.
I could see her running through every possibility in her mind.
"Yes, it's quite the conundrum, isn't it? Why would I tell you this? Especially knowing that you can resurrect. Am I not afraid of dying? What could I possibly do to you with the knowledge that I obviously possess?" The more I spoke, the more her brain raced to find the answers.
Finally, she went with basic instinct. When threatened, attack.
She lunged at me across my desk.
The look of pure shock on her face when not only was I quick enough to stop her, I was also strong enough to hold her arms immobile, was total.
I locked both of her wrists in one hand and grabbed her by the back of her head with the other.
"Let's have a more productive chat now Julie," I said as I forced her head up to look at me.
"What are you?" she asked, afraid for the first time in her existence.
"I am just me, Julie. But for you, I am your new Master."
My words frightened her more as well as angered her. She struggled fiercely, but to no avail.
"Stop struggling, Julie. It will only result in forcing me to discipline you."
And, of course, she did.
But how I disciplined her was definitely not in the manner that she had expected.
When I finished, her ass was as red as her face. Her ass was red from being spanked like a child, her face from embarrassment.
"I guess that I could have mentioned that you are not the first of your kind that I have dealt with, Julie. I must admit, that it was one of your fellow Sixes that helped me quantify some of my abilities," I admitted.
This had further unbalanced the lost Six.
"Julie, you are going to report both to the Adar Administration and to your Comrades that you have started the installation process of the CNP, but that it will take you approximately 12 weeks to complete your tasks due to the technical difficulties of installing it on the older ships located here at Medusa. But that you are confident of your success and timely completion."
Julie was even more shocked when she found herself replying.
"Understood, Sir, it will be done."
I could see the shock registered in her eyes.
"I see that you are finally beginning to understand," I stated lightly. "Are you ready to behave?"
"Yes, Sir," she responded meekly.
"Good. But it is time for the rules. You are expressly forbidden from speaking about anything Cylon or me with anyone that I do not specifically tell you to. You will not commit any acts of violence except in extreme self-defense or in defense of me and mine."
"I expect you to be well behaved, Julie. Is that understood?" I asked her sharply.
"Yes, Sir," she replied timidly with a small voice.
Something about the way she said it and the tone of her voice set off multiple alarms.
"Julie, tell me EXACTLY what you are thinking right now," I ordered firmly but not harshly.
She blushed furiously.
"Now. Do not try to sugarcoat it," I added a little sharply.
"I have so many things running through my mind, and, uhm, feelings, in my body," she answered.
Against my better judgment, I asked, "like what?"
"Well, 'Sir" doesn't really seem an appropriate way to address you," she said unsurely. And it definitely surprised her to say that out loud.
"And what do you think would be a more appropriate form of address?" I asked neutrally.
Julie blushed furiously before she answered.
"Daddy," she squeaked out.
"You want me to be your 'Daddy'?" I asked.
"You ARE my Daddy," she vowed.
"Julie, what is it that you think is going to happen?" I asked her.
"I want to make you happy, Daddy," she, purred.
"Then behave," I told her pointedly. "That is all you can do to make me happy."
I groaned. "I guess this is a side effect of doing this with a female," I said thinking out loud.
"What do you mean, Daddy," she asked curiously.
"I wasn't talking to you, young lady," I chided.
"Now, after you send the required messages to whoever you need to, my assistant will get you settled," I said in dismissal.
"Yes, Daddy," she replied obediently.
Eight days before Armistice, we started loading the final items, mainly fresh food and crew that had been working in other areas helping to get everything else ready.
The entire facility was mobilizing, though not everyone knew why.
There were several intricate plans that were even now unfolding. But, I was not currently concerned with the others. Considering the fact that I had helped formulate most of them, that would seem odd to most.
I went to see Admiral DeWinter one last time.
"Alex, are you sure that you won't change your mind and come with us?" she asked emotionally.
"No, this is necessary," I told her for the umpteenth time.
"Very well, but Tommy has some final orders for you," she informed me. "And, no, you can't 'lose' them again. There are already several copies with multiple persons who have direct orders," she stated with a mischievous grin.
Before I left, she pulled me into a long hug.
"You better not stand me up, Alex," she said, fighting the tears that would not be denied.
"I won't," I assured her.
When we left, I spent three days making sure everything was working properly, then, I directed the group to head to our destination to wait.
It had taken many hours of deliberation for me to decide this part of my plan. And, to be honest, I still wasn't totally certain that I had made the right decision.
In the end, I decided to just go with simple.
The transit tunnel into Ragnar Anchorage was a tight fit for the larger ships. That might slow the exit down, but I was certain that Adama would rather have what I was bringing to the table.
We settled in to wait.
The morning of Armistice Day, I addressed the Group.
"All of you are aware that we have been preparing for a Special Mission. The time has come. There has been much speculation as to what this mission entails. Especially since those of you who have families have them with you."
"I must regretfully inform all of you that the Cylons have returned. They have returned, not to conquer us, but to completely annihilate us. Those of us who believed that the Cylons would return, made what preparations as we could. This fleet, as well as Admiral DeWinter's fleet, is the results of those preparations."
"Some of you are wondering why we aren't out there, hunting Cylons. The answer is simple. We have orders. We need to play our part for all to succeed. Shortly, a group of refugees will enter the Anchorage. Our job will be to protect these civilians."
"We will do our job," I stated firmly.
"Further, there will be no discussion concerning Admiral DeWinter or her. Any questions concerning how we came to be here, they will be referred up the chain of Command."
I knew it wasn't a very motivational speech, but I did not consider myself to be a great orator.
There was a bit of commotion when a small freighter favored by smugglers entered the Anchorage. I ordered the ship captured and any occupants brought to me.
When the Two was brought before me, I was not in the mood to deal with him.
"Double his restraints and put him in the Brig. He is a Cylon," I stated bluntly.
The Marines looked at me like I was crazy.
"Yes, they have achieved human form. He is a model number Two of the Human Form Cylons. This particular one goes by the name of Leoben Conroy. You will see more of them, they are basically clones. Be aware that they are stronger and faster than humans. And this one likes to twist everything around, so don't pay too much attention to what he has to say. I will handle all interrogations."
I began to change into my flight suit, but I stopped. I wasn't sure which way I should play this. I ended up going with Colonel pips on my flight suit. This would be my cover rank, at least for now. It would probably be more believable as a Major, but I really didn't want to have to deal with any of Tigh's bullshit.
I launched in my person Viper just after the Galactica entered the Anchorage.
"Galactica, Warlord," I called over Coms.
"Warlord, Galactica, go ahead," came the confused reply.
"Galactica, Warlord requests landing clearance. I need to speak after landing to Galactica Actual, have priority Intel."
"Standby, Warlord," came the reply.
There were already two old Mk II Vipers moving to flank me. The lead contacted me over a standard Viper channel.
"Warlord, Starbuck."
"Go ahead, Starbuck," I replied, curious as to what she had to say.
"That's a pretty interesting Mk VI you are flying there," she said in her usual flippant way.
"I will take that as a compliment, Starbuck. I rebuilt her from the frame up myself," I said honestly.
"Is that a fact?" was all she could say in reply.
"Warlord, Galactica, you are cleared for landing port pod aft, hands on approach."
"Copy that, Galactica. Warlord landing port pod aft, hands on approach," I responded.
Seven minutes later I was being lowered into the Hanger Deck.
I wasn't surprised to find a Marine detail standing behind a man wearing Captain's pips.
I saluted the Colors, then turned to the Captain.
"Permission to come aboard?"
"Permission granted, er, Colonel," he said surprised by my rank.
"Let's get to the Commander, I have a lot to tell him," I stated simply.
He took me quickly to CIC.
"Commander Adama," I said with a salute. "I believe that we should take this to your Ready Room or office, Sir".
He eyed me warily.
"Colonel, I am not exactly taking anybody's word for anything right now," he said with blunt honesty.
"I wouldn't expect you to, Commander. Do you have a functioning hand scanner?" I asked.
"No, we do not," he replied.
I had expected and prepared for this. I pulled out a sealed packet and handed it to him.
"This is 'Your Eyes Only', Commander," I told him.
Tigh started to say something, but I gave him a cold look. Adama was surprised that Tigh kept his mouth shut, but opened the packet and read the contents.
"Tigh, you have the CONN. See to the resupply. We'll be in my office," Adama instructed a stunned Tigh.
Once we were in Adama's office, he looked askance of me.
"For now, Commander, as far as anyone outside of the group I had waiting here knows, I am simply 'Colonel' Hawk. If and when needed, I will break cover. But we can go over all that later."
"When you are ready, contact the Bounder and they will start sending over your crew replacements and fill out your Air Group. They also have enough Marines to fill out your Detachment."
"You have all that? Just waiting here?" he asked doubtfully.
"Commander, let's just say that we tried to warn the President and he refuse to listen. But we didn't just sit on our frakking asses and do nothing. Anything beyond that, I will say this: Be careful what you ask, you may not WANT to know."
As I said this, I pulled my beret out of the cargo pocket of my flight suit and put it on.
Adama grunted. "Point taken. Just tell me this, are you really a Colonel?"
"Not anymore, but I was. Yes, I technically outrank you, Adama. But I am secure enough to admit that while I can do many things very well, you are the better Leader. I will handle other things."
The veteran contemplated this for quite a bit.
"I concede that it would probably not go over very well to have a Black Beret in tactical Command of ships of the line."
"Especially with the civilians,' I added.
"What civilians?" he asked just before the Comset buzzed.
"Those" I quipped as he answered.
"Adama," he clipped. "I see. Have them land bring her to my office."
"Since we have limited time, I will get to the point. We have orders, you, me and Secretary Roslyn. But we can't advertise that fact or who we are getting orders from. Hell! We can't even admit that there are others out there!" I said in honest frustration.
"I will get to that when Secretary Roslyn gets here. But until then, we can discuss fleet issues."
I spent the time briefing Adama on what resources he now had available to him.
There was a knock on the hatch.
"Enter" Adama said loudly enough to be heard.
Roslyn and her young aide entered.
"Commander! We need to begin rescue operations immediately!" Roslyn demanded.
Taking pity on Bill, I interrupted.
"Madame Secretary, rescue Operations have already concluded," I informed her in a direct manner.
"That's Madame PRESIDENT! She has already been sworn in!" Billy argued in defense of his boss and mentor.
"I am afraid that I am going correct you on that note," I said as I pulled two OSD;s out of my flight suit and handed one to each Roslyn and Adama.
"Those are your official orders. I will get the hand written letters to each of you when I am not in a Viper. But I can give you the basics."
"And just who would be alive to give us orders? Roslyn demanded. "And how would you know what those orders are?"
I looked her directly in the eyes.
"Your orders come directly from President James Kenton. Adama's come from Admiral Nagala. And because I helped write them," I told her pointedly.
Grasping for anything to cling to in order to avoid completely losing what little stability she had left, she said the first thing that came to mind.
"Since when does a Fleet officer not use proper protocol, Colonel? Why do you address the Commander in such a manner?"
I chuckled deeply.
"This is only my 'cover', Madame Secretary. I actually out rank him. But, as I have already informed him, Commander Adama is much better suited to lead this refugee fleet," I told her.
"And why is that?" she asked.
In answer, I pulled out my Beret and put it on.
"I hope that sufficiently answers all questions along those lines, Madame Secretary?"
Roslyn had gone ghostly pale.
Young Billy was in the dark.
"I see that you do understand, Madame Secretary. But it seems that I will have to spell it out for your young Aide. Mr. Kekeia, I am what is known as a Black Beret. To simplify it for you, we are the paramilitary arm of the Colonial Office of Naval Intelligence. And even hardened MOI agents move to the other side of the planet when we get involved in something."
Adama grunted his agreement.
"Now, if we can get on with the business at hand," I suggested as I took my Beret off and put it away.
Roslyn took hold of herself.
"If there are others that survived, then why aren't we joining up with them?" she demanded.
"For the simple matter that for some reason, the Cylons are somewhat obsessed with this fleet, the Galactica, Adama, and you, Madame Secretary." I answered her bluntly. "That almost single minded focus, and the shear practicality of numbers, means that we are on our own for a while."
"But, at the same time, we can't let the Cylons learn of the other survivors. How you do that is up to you. I will not involve myself unless it becomes necessary," I added pointedly.
They took my meaning to heart.
"As per the orders, you will become the Governor of this fleet, Madame Secretary. Adama will be Admiral of this fleet. My primary responsibility will be Intelligence and Security. I will also assist Admiral Adama in martial areas."
"Before you start shuffling the passengers, I need to go through and detain the Human Form Cylons-"
"The WHAT?!" Roslyn shrieked.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you about that. The Cylons have achieved Human Form. They are basically clones, many copies of limited models. You have both met and seen some of them. Aaron Doral is a Five Model. Boomer is an Eight Model, though she doesn't know it. There is a priest already aboard the Galactica by the name of Cavil, he is a Model One. I have a Model Two in the Brig who goes by the name of Leoben Conroy."
"And, Madame Governor, the blonde woman you saw with Gaius Baltar in the Caprica City Market Place was a Model Six. And, yes, she frakked Baltar well enough and often enough that he gave her full access to the CNP and the Defense Mainframes. So, I will be arresting him as well," I said pointedly.
"On what charges?" Roslyn asked worriedly.
"Gross negligence resulting in death," I answered bluntly. "Fifty-five billion counts of it."
Gross negligence was little more than a basic misdemeanor. Adding the resulting in death carried a minimum penalty of three years' incarceration. Needless to say, the sentence would be a life sentence. With the clause on the 'Resulting in Death' penalty, there could only be concurrent sentences awarded for half of the counts. Twenty-six billion years meant that he had to serve an absolute minimum of fifteen billion years before Baltar would be eligible for Parole.
"I see, a rather pragmatic approach to an extremely delicate situation," she allowed.
"Do you know the other models?" Adama asked gruffly after nodding his agreement concerning Baltar.
"Yes, although they can subject themselves to plastic surgery, I have ways to determine conclusively if someone is a Cylon or not. But, it is not practical for widespread use," I warned them.
"There were eight models created, but only seven are still in existence. The Seven Model was corrupted by the Ones. We will get into that discussion at a more appropriate time."
"After I have found the HFC's from among the refugees, we can depart. In the mean time, Admiral, the engineers can get started removing the Windows from the Starboard Flight Pod. We can replace the launch tubes at a more suitable time and location. Until then, except in situations involving combat landings, I would put Viper operations in the port bay and use the starboard for Raptors, Scimitars, Shuttles, and Larger ships."
"You have Scimitars?" Adama asked hopefully.
I smirked. "No, Admiral, YOU have Scimitars."
"If I may?" I said gesturing to the Comset.
Adama nodded and gestured to the wall mounted one.
"Connect me to the Bounder. Bounder, Warlord, begin scheduled operations, Codeword: Girded Lion."
"Bounder copies, 'Girded Lion', Warlord. Operations will begin immediately. Shogun flight is launching now to rendezvous with you on Galactica," came the reply.
"Warlord, out."
After hanging up the Comset, I addressed both of them.
"When I have completed my sweep, I will return here, Admiral. Oh, you'll need these, Bill. The Governor can put them on for you," I said handing them to Roslyn. "And just so you know, those were originally worn by Hammer," I told him pointedly.
Adama nodded in understanding.
After exiting Adama's office, I turned to one of the Sentries.
"Corporal, contact First Sergeant Hadrian and tell her I want a Marine Detail to meet me at the Galactica's Chapel," I ordered.
The surprised Corporal responded "er, Yes, Sir!"
I was in a bit of a hurry so I didn't bother with speaking. When I arrived in the Chapel, I walked up to Cavil and broke his jaw in a single blow. This also knocked him unconscious.
"Sergeant, put triple restraints on him and take him to the Brig," I ordered bluntly. "I will interrogate him when I have time. Until then, no one enters his cell without my direct approval. Oh, and he is on strict suicide watch."
I waited until she had repeated my orders back to me and the restraints were on before I left.
I made my way to the Hanger Deck. When I arrived, there was frenzied activity, both from the resupply and incoming personnel, equipment, and supplies from my fleet. I was surprised to find Chief Tyrol organizing the chaos of the Deck.
"Chief, I am surprised to find you here instead of directly overseeing the resupply from Ragnar," I said honestly.
He grunted in agreement.
"So am I, but the Master Chief had a different opinion on the matter," Tyrol replied. "Not that I can fault his logic."
I arched an eyebrow in askance.
"She said that she could handle taking what we need from the Anchorage, but she doesn't know the Old Girl like I do, YET." Tyrol answered.
I had to chuckle. "I see you point, Chief. Well, I will get out of your hair and go take care of MY job. As soon as I board Shogun Flight, we will be departing for a while," I said gesturing to the Raptor-S now on the Hanger Deck.
I don't suppose that you have any more of those, do you, Sir?" he asked hopefully.
"Chief, after things get settled, you will again be responsible for a full and complete Air Group. MY standards of a full Air Group, Chief, not 'Fleet's'," I added pointedly. "Squadrons will consist of 24 Vipers, 12 Raptors, 12 Scimitars and 6 shuttles. And, yes, you will have 2 Squadrons of Raptor-S's and four Scimitar Squadrons," I assured him. "Plus, you are getting the deck crew you'll need to keep them operational.
"THANK YOU, SIR!" blurted out in grateful surprise.
It took me 36 hours straight to find the HFC's in the fleet. There hadn't been any casualties, but the single One and three Fives had attempted to resist. This had resulted in three broken jaws, six broken arms, and two broken legs to the four of them.
I knew I had a LOT of things to do, but they would have to wait until I got a few hours of sleep.