Chapter 2

"I don't know. I've got nausea, stomach issues. My concentration seems a bit off," The flight surgeon looked into Rachel's eyes with some sort of instrument. She didn't want to know what it was called. When she'd had to heave again after the FTL jump James had demanded she report to the doctor at the dock when they'd landed.

"You've been flying five days straight you say?" The doctor asked. He'd moved on to her reflexes, whacking her knee with one of those little rubber hammers.

"Yeah, but I've had ten hours of down time every night." she said.

"Hrm? And how much did you sleep during those ten hours?" he asked. Damn. That was the right questions.

"At least six, eight a few nights," she admitted.

"You ever go for an extended period with multiple FTL jumps?"

"Yes. It's not like this has been an unusual week."

The doctor scribbled a few things in a chart, looked at her vital signs on a monitor.

"When was your last period?"

"What does THAT have to do with anything?" Rachel asked defensively. She was so tired of people, men, treating her like a second-class pilot just because she was a woman. That's what she told herself. More likely they treated her like a second-class pilot because she'd never been in the Fleet.

"Humor me," The doctor said, leaning against the counter in the small, cramped exam room. His expression wasn't completely smug, but she wanted to slug him anyway.

"A couple weeks."

"When are you expecting your next one?"

"I don't see what..."

"Just... when?"

"The 14th, why? What could that have to do with puking after an FTL jump?"

"The 14th you say?"

"Yes, should I look in your ears?" Rachel snapped. This was really too much. She was just as capable as any man, more so, she wasn't controlled by testosterone. It was a well-known fact that women pilots were more careful than their male counterparts.

"Rachel, today's the 20th."

"See, noth.. excuse me?"

"It's the 20th. You're six days late. Have you ever been late before?" Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. She couldn't be. She and Alistair had always been careful. They'd always used protection, well except for that time on Virgon, the Bed and Breakfast, they'd forgotten. That had been... her heart started to race.

"Ah huh." The doctor said. "It seems a little early for morning sickness, but I've seen stranger things."

"Oh no. There's got to be some other reason. Maybe I've got a tumor, some growth in my abdomen."

"It's a growth alright, but they call it a blastosist at this stage," The Doctor said. "We're not going to know for sure without a test, but I'll take from your reaction that it's a distinct possibility?"

"No," Rachel said flatly. "Absolutely not."

"Well, if it's not we'll need to run more tests. If it is I can give you something for the nausea and return you to flight status."

"I can still fly?" Rachel asked. How could this be happening? How could this happen to her?

"Sure, as long as you can fit into the restraints. We've got pilots running hauls into the third trimester."

"The jumps don't... hurt the baby?"

"Nah, why should they? Anyway like I say, if you're sure it's not a possibility..."

"It's a possibility," Rachel said. The last thing she wanted to be was grounded. She may be a mother in nine months, but right now she was a pilot, which meant she'd do anything to keep flying, even admit that she might be pregnant.

"Congratulations Mom," The doctor said handing her a packet of pills. "Take one in the morning when you get up, and another half an hour before a jump if you're still having issues."

"The Doc give you a pass?" James asked when Rachel showed back up in the pilot's lounge. She sat down and stared out the window for a few minutes, looking across the tarmac. She felt numb, detached.

"Hey, what did the Doc say?" James pressed, handing her some coffee.

"He gave me some pills and didn't pull my flight status." Rachel said, detached, distant. She was physically exhausted, and now this...

"Good, cause Sparkins' reserve squadron just got activated, they need you to head back out to Picon." Oh for the love of the Gods, Rachel thought. They could get someone else to do it. She'd been going five days straight. Now this... this... She needed a break. She opened her mouth to tell James that Picon Connection could go stuff it, but she couldn't. You never refuse a mission. Hell, it was overtime pay right? She was doing her part to support the troops.

"Yeah, what flight?" she sighed.

"Flight 548, pre-fli is at 13:40, sleep fast," He said hoisting his flight bag onto his shoulder. She didn't even have time to get off home for some quick sack time. Great. It was her own fault. She should have gotten a place closer to the starport. She should have gotten a key to Alistair's place. He was within fifteen minutes of the starport.

Alistair. What was she going to tell him? First things first. She needed to get some sack time. She headed for the small bunkroom that Picon Connection kept for short turn arounds. She could grab a few hours of sleep, maybe it would help her figure out what she was going to do. Maybe.


"So you guys getting a room together that isn't community property at some point?" Hemes asked as Zach pulled his shirt on. Michelle was gone, what half an hour now? Hemes must have figured that the lack or rhythmic grunting meant it was safe to venture back into the Goat Locker without risking having his neck snapped by the SpecOps babe.

"You're just jealous Hemes," Zach said, lighting a cigarette. He took a long draw, filling his lungs with the wonderfuly thick smoke, tar and other carcinogens. The nicotine and caffeine from the 'Locker coffee would get him through the day.

"Jealous? She'd probably snap my neck in the throws of passion." Not likely, Zach thought. Hemes was a prime example of a Fleet Chief Petty Officer. A good thirty pounds overweight, balding, with three kids and a shrew that screeched at him whenever they put into port. He was on shrew number two if Zach remembered right.

"Well, you'll never know will you?" Zach said taking a puff. He grabbed the duty roster from the terminal off on one side of the bay. His team was still working on getting ready for the updates to the ANCILE system, the system that coordinated the close in guns, the R/Lidar, and the interceptor missiles on the Pacifica. Their version of ANCILE was tied to their oldish ESY-2B R/Lidar, but the engineers were upgrading Pacifica up to the same -2D system that the Forest was carrying during the SLEP. That meant jumping the ANCILE software up three major revisions. Charley had been tasked to plan that upgrade.

"What's it like?" Hemes pushed. "Come on Charley, you gotta share. The last time I had anything that hot I was your age."

"Frak, Hemes. It's supposed to be quiet, you know. You're gonna jinx it."

"So gimme something to keep me quiet."

Zach took a long drag on his cigarette and grabbed his coffee. He needed to be in the Data Center in five. "Let's just say that it ain't your neck she snaps," he said, smashing his butt out on the tray next to the door. He didn't see the look on Hemes face, didn't much care to.

"Where are we at Ryan?" He asked when he found the cramped conference room that was reserved for the morning meeting with is team. It was hardly more than a broom closet. He was glad he wasn't as thick as Hemes. There was barely enough space to squeeze behind the table in here. Not that it mattered; Zach stood and paced a little.

"Lookin' good Chief. Lieutenant Masterson approved our request for more disk space. We should have it inside the week, then we can bring up the new test instance and start loading code," Ryan, his systems specialist said.

"Set Condition 3, Port flight crew report to damage control stations. Set Condition 3, port flight crew report to damage control stations," a computer generated voice said over the intercom. Condition three was a minor alert, probably a flight emergency. It wasn't unheard of, but didn't usually happen. Charley grumbled. Great, this would take all morning.

"You heard 'em folks," he said, pointing at the door. His team wasn't expressly necessary to the operation of the ship in their primary jobs, so they pulled damage control duty when any alert came in. It usually wasn't a problem, but they would get a bit behind in planning for the SLEP at this rate.

The team suited up into firefighter gear and headed for the flight deck.


"Report," Dairen said as condition three was called.

"My panel shows clear," the helmsman said. The intercom buzzed, Dairen hit the talk button

"Bridge, Dairen."

"We've got a control issue on a recovering Viper sir, maintain course and speed please," It was the CIC controller. She sounded a bit concerned. She should be, hitting a control issue in a Mark V Viper could be a serious business.

"Understood," Dairen said. That's what he got for pulling bridge duty, just another cog in the wheel. If he'd been in the CIC he'd have known what was going on. Was it really worth not having to deal with Yeahrly? Probably.

"Steady as she goes," he said to the bridge crew.


Conners fought with the Viper as she tried to line up for an emergency landing. One of her nose thrusters was completely unresponsive, alternately full on and off, seemingly randomly. The flight computer was of little use. It was as if it couldn't sense the thruster and kept throwing the bird into a spin when the thruster decided to fire. She'd turned it off a few minutes ago. She could maintain her yaw better without it.

"Pepper, you're at two kilometers, a little left, call the ball," The LSO's voice crackled in her helmet. Her wingman, Bronco, was holding back in the pattern. She saw the meatball, turning a little red from her course. She nudged the Viper to the right, dividing her attention between her hud, the meatball and the nose of the Viper, waiting for the thruster to fire again.

"Roger Ball," She said. She pulled the main engines back to idle. She had enough forward velocity that she didn't need them. They could only cause more problems for her now if that nose thruster fired again.

"Right," The LSO said calmly. It was a source of strength for her. Yeah, her bird was pushing her around, yeah if it decided to do it at a critical juncture she could end up as a tail strike, but the LSO was treating this like any other approach.

"Frak!" She said as the thruster fired. The Viper spun once before she could get opposite yaw applied. Thankfully her inertia kept her on course, but her nose was now at a 45 degree AOA, worse, that was off the primary lift vector.

"Right," The LSO said. Easy for him to say. It was a little tough to get the course correction in when she was fighting... as abruptly as it started the thruster stopped. She stopped countering it a second later, but now she was spinning lazily, still heading towards Pacifica's starboard flight deck.

"Damnit." She rolled the Viper so that her lift vector lined up with the spin, slowed it, stopped it, the Pacifica turned on its side outside the cockpit. She rolled back into line with the deck and worked on her line up.

"Steady," the LSO called. Good, she was on course for the landing. She made sure the mains were at idle. She let her eyes droop inside the cockpit for a quick scan of her instruments. All of this bouncing around had really cut into her fuel status. She was lucky that she wasn't red goo in the cockpit at this point. The first two times the thruster had locked open she'd hit eleven g's before the computer caught the error. Things had been better since she'd taken it off-line, or maybe the thruster was getting tired. One could only hope.

"Steady," The LSO called out. "One kilometer." The Pacifica filled her view now. Come on, she could do this. She'd hit the deck and the friction from the skids would hold her there even if the thruster...

"Frak!" She yelled. The thruster locked open again.

"Left," The LSO called, the model of calmness. She got things under control after two complete revolutions this time, but she was now pointed away from the Pacifica, still on vectors to taker her onto the deck.

"Straighten out," The LSO said.

"I'm frackin' tryin'!" Pepper shouted. The best she could do was hold the Viper at its current attitude. There was no way this was going to work. The thruster was just too unpredictable.

"Wave off," the LSO said. It wasn't as easy as that though. Her current velocity couldn't be changed easily at her current attitude. The main engines could slow her, but they couldn't stop her before she crumpled into Pacifica. She'd have to back off on countering the spin.

"Wave off," The LSO said again, an edge of panic seeping into his voice.

All right, here goes nothing, Pepper thought. She eased up just a bit on the stick. The Viper spun slowly around, pointing back to the Pacifica. She brought the mains up a few percent and angled the nose down twenty degrees.

"Power Pepper, you're not clear," The LSO said. She applied more power, trying to change course more quickly. The thruster stopped firing, her compensation put her in another spin, this time taking her off course. This was not good.


"We'd like to stage a mock raid on the Forest next week, some cross training with the crew," Yeahrly said after he'd finished the report on the exercises in the asteroid belt. Tigg wanted to sigh. Yeahrly was about as gung ho as a Marine could get. Always with the drills and exercises. He had a point, keeping the point of the spear sharp and all that. Did he have to be so tenacious about it?

"I don't think so General, I need the crew of the Forest focused on the SLEP prep. I've got engineers and specialist over here helping out. Now is not the time to test their security and reactions."

"It's the perfect time Commander, they should get a sense of..."

"No General," Tigg said. "I understand what you're saying but I just don't want the distraction right now."

"Set Condition 3, Port flight crew report to damage control stations. Set Condition 3, port flight crew report to damage control stations," a computer generated voice said over the intercom. Tigg looked at the General, hit a button on the intercom.

"This is Tigg, what's the emergency?" he asked.

"Viper 314 has a mechanical failure sir, she's trying to recover but is having issues maintaining course," the officer in the CIC said.

"Understood. I'll be there directly." He stood, the General standing with him. "Are we done here General?"

"Close enough sir. Don't let me keep you."

Tigg walked the few feet to the CIC, waved off the attention on deck call and headed to the tactical map.

"Who's flying?" he asked, meaning Viper 314.

"Pepper," the officer of the deck said. She's already been waved off once. She's got enough fuel for one more pass. After that she'll have to ditch."

"Pipe the LSO camera up here," Tigg said. There wasn't much he could do but watch.


"Chief, I'm telling you, we can do this!" Mitchell almost yelled. He had to get out there. Someone did. There was no way that Conners could get that bird aboard like this. Master Chief Lewis was less than impressed with his harebrained idea.

"Even if I thought you have a chance in hell of doing this Mitchell, which I don't, there's no resources. There's no time." Lewis said. Mitchell was already suited up. He'd pulled the EVA gear on when he'd heard that Conners was having thruster problems. He'd neglected to tell the Master Chief that he'd known about the issue. It hadn't been that bad for Lt. Ravi, just a fluctuation in what the thruster was producing. The flight computer had compensated for it.

"Raptor 206 is fueled and on the Cat. It was prepped for departure just before the condition 3. Chief, please." Mitchell said. Lewis looked at him. The old man was cracking, Mitchell could feel it, could see it in his stern, wrinkled face.

"Captain!" Lewis bellowed across the bay, then set off to talk to the Officer of the Deck.

"What is it Master Chief?" Lewis asked, distracted.

"Mitchell has this crazy idea Sir," Lewis said. Mitch laid out his plan as quickly as he could. They needed to decide on this now. Hell, they needed to decide on it ten minutes ago.

"You're right Chief, he's crazy," Lance said. "Get aboard. I'll call up to the Air Boss for clearance."


"Hey Baby, going my way?" Pepper heard over her headphones. She was on the 'downwind leg' on approach to the Pacifica, traveling to a point behind Pacifica to set up her next approach. Her wingman had trapped after her bolter and a replacement CAP had launched. She looked over to see a Raptor keeping pace with her.

"Who is that?" She asked, not recognizing the voice.

"Knight," Captain Lance. "Listen kiddo, we've got an idea we want to run by you."

"I'm all ears sir," Conners said.

"I've got Mitchell along for the ride. He wants to EVA and give your bird some medicine. What say we take two aspirin and put this thing on the deck?"

"Have you had his head checked?" Conners asked. There was no way. If the thruster fired while Mitchell worked on it he'd be blown off into space, probably killed. A life, even his life, wasn't worth a Viper. She'd put it aboard or ditch.

"Yeah, I've got his committal papers right here," Knight said. "Tell you what though, let's get you all lined up for a slow, barrier approach and let Mr. Nutty as a Fruitcake have a go 'eh? Then even if you have to ditch we might can recover a bit of that bird."

It made sense. They'd set up for a very slow approach and the deck crew would pull out a web-type barrier across the flight deck. Even if she had to eject the ship could glide into the barrier and be recovered.

"Alright. I'm two minutes to..." The thruster fired again. "Shit, ngh.." she grunted as the thruster threw her against the side of the cockpit at several times the force of gravity. She got things under control in a few seconds. This was getting really old, really fast.

"Coming up on inbound," Knight said. She could see his Raptor clearly now. He was at what should have been her eight o'clock, if she'd been pointed at her direction of travel. Well, this would make the turn to the upwind leg easier. Mitchell waved at her from the open hatch on the Raptor. The thruster burned for a minute or so, then crapped out again. Again the compensating thruster spun the Viper in the opposite direction when the bad one cut out. Pepper recovered quickly and got herself lined up for the approach.

"Viper 314 inbound," she called out to the LSO.

"Roger 314, you're at five kilometers, on flight path, say weight and fuel.

"18.34k, and..." Conners looked at her gauges. "317 kilos." She said. Shit.

"Alright Pepper, let's slow things down." Knight said, pulling in a little closer, moving to her two o'clock. She tapped the breaks, watching her velocity. 150 m/s, 100, 50. Knight's Raptor kept pace.

"Frak!" She screamed. She countered the yaw, but the thruster firing while she was breaking pushed her off course. She just wanted this to be over. She rolled the Viper's lift vector and pulled it back onto course, almost like a corkscrew while the forward nose thrusters both fired, giving the Viper a moustache. She got things lined up again and spooled down the main engines. She tapped the breaks in short bursts slowing the Viper again.

"Viper 314 two kilometers, on flight path, call the ball," The LSO said. This was insane, there was no way that Mitchell could work on the thruster this close in to Pacifica, they'd be aboard before he could even get on the Viper. She looked at the visual landing indicator on the left side of Pacifica's starboard flight deck. It looked green.

"Roger ball," She said. She looked at her speed. 15 m/s.

"Here we come," Knight said, as he pulled in close.

"You sure that's a good idea, I'm still firing here," Conners said, she was still countering the rogue thruster.

"We're out of time. Just scream when it cuts out and hope you don't slice Mitchell in two with the blow back."

"Thanks," She said as the thruster cut out. "Scream," she said quietly. It didn't take her long to correct her attitude though. She didn't even complete a full 360 degrees of spin.

"Alright," Knight said, easing in close. She could feel his thrusters buffet her ship as he got in really close. She could see him concentrating through the canopy of his Raptor. "That's as close as I'm getting Mitchell. Go." He couldn't have been more then four meters away. Conners watched Mitchell push off from the Raptor and float toward the Viper. He caught on the nose and thumped it a couple times with a wrench.

"I thought you said you were gonna have a nice flight Lieutenant," He said, a smile on his face. She was at a loss for something to retort. He got to work, moving up toward the nose of the Viper.

"Got the forward access panel open," he said.

"Steady," The LSO's voice called.

"Don't see anything particularly wrong here," Mitchell said. Just fix it you knuckle dragger, Conners thought. "I'm securing the check valve here." Mitchell grunted over the radio channel. Conners noticed that Knight's Raptor had backed off. She'd been too busy watching Mitchell to realize it.

"Frak," Mitchell grumbled.

"What?" both Conners and Lance asked at the same time.

"This is a hell of a lot easier with gravity," She watched as Mitchell grabbed the Viper with his legs, getting a hold so that he could turn the valve. It was almost perverse. "I think I got it," He said after a minute of grunting and appearing to hump the Viper's nose.

"Get out of there Mitchell," Knight ordered.

"314, you're at one kilometer, a little low," the LSO said.

"Anything you say Captain," Mitchell said, standing up on the nose of the Viper. "You try and have that nice flight Lieutenant," He said and saluted before he pushed off. Conners corrected the momentum he'd imparted on the ship by jumping. Now all she had to do was wait and hope the thruster didn't fire again. Either way, they'd know in a minute.


"Encoded traffic from Fleet sir," the specialist said handing Rains a print out. The Athens had stood down from condition one an hour or so after the jump, when it was apparent that the Cylons hadn't managed to track them. As it was if the Base Stars maintained course and speed they'd be appearing on the edge of EM range in an hour and a half. Rains read through the dispatch and felt like grumbling.

"You aren't going to believe this," he said, handing the dispatch to Kurtz. The XO looked at it as Rains grabbed the Intercom. "All department heads to the wardroom please," was the brief announcement he made.

"Lt. Genois, you have to conn," he said to the junior member of the fire control / tracking team.

"How do you want to play this?" Kurtz asked as they walked the few steps to the wardroom.

"This the situation, or this the meeting?" Rains asked. He held up a hand as the EMO walked up. "Give us a few," he said as he closed the wardroom door behind himself and Kurtz.

"The meeting," Kurtz said.

"I'm thinking we're going to be needing a bit more discipline than they're used to me doling out. No time like the present to start. Keep me honest Paul," He said, opening the door. Kurtz gave him a curt nod.

"We've just received an encoded dispatch from Fleet command," Rains said when the department heads had arrived and sat down in the cramped wardroom. They were all spooked enough that there wasn't much horseplay, not that there was ever much. They could have been choirboys now though. "Fleet feels that we need to confirm the identity of our earlier contacts before they'll send any help."

"What's to confirm?" Jeahle, the weapons officer asked. He hadn't been as close to the loop on this op as others at the table had been.

"EM gave us an 80 probability before the jump, and the rece bird was squashed before it could return intel," Kurtz said.

"We've been running the tapes from the contact," Heinz, the EMO said, "What we got looks like a Base Star, smells like a Base Star, but.."

"No one's seen a Base Star in 40 years," Rains finished, "they're bound to have changed. That's why we've got to get in closer and get a better id." The silence that fell across the table was telling. Kurtz gave Rains a look that spoke volumes. We're pushing this, it said. Rains knew they were. For all their training none of the crew, not even him was ready to announce a war to the worlds. Fleet was right though. They had to have a better idea what they were facing.

"I am open to suggestions short of driving to within 300k and snapping a picture," Rains said.