Legacies of the Cylon War

by Tabitha Catlett

The Catlett family shows its strength through generations

Tabbicat grabbed the sissy bar on the dash board in front of her. Her daddy's hopper was diving faster than she could believe. He was coming out of a loop, which hoppers were not supposed to be able to do. She squealed in delight as the Virgonian sky and the beautiful mountains danced through the canopy. Her daddy was the bestest pilot ever.
He smiled over to her as the little hopper pulled up, the gee forces making her belly feel strange, like potty time, but not exactly. She looked at him with awe in her eyes. He was the strongest handsomest and easily the bestest daddy ever, and he was showing her how he flew Vipers! She couldn't help but laugh out loud as he banked left, raising the wing all the way up and they buzzed one of the sky scrapers, coming so close she could see the people inside looking out at them startled. He banked hard right, the hopper engine strained against its mounts as they dived between two huge buildings and had inches to spare. She loved it. This, she swore to herself, was what she wanted to do!

The CT-82 Sky Master trainer was no hopper. She felt its power through the control stick. Today she soloed and her family had all turned out for the occasion. Her mom held onto her dad like he was the only man on Virgon. Her brother stood, straight as an arrow, her twin sister sort of huddled next to him. Then the flight instructor gave her the sign. She pushed the throttles forward and eased the brakes off. The sleek trainer began to pick up speed as she taxied towards the runway. "Tower, this is Hoveland 723 requesting clearance for check out flight on runway 2 North." she said waiting for the authorization she knew was coming.
"Stand by 723..." the tower said. She pushed the brakes and throttled down a bit. "Your clear 723, winds from the West at 12 knots, temperature 75 degrees, skies are clear with visibility unlimited, good hunting."
She felt nervous but turned the trainer to face the runway. She held the brakes like daddy always did when he showed her how the Vipers launched. She shoved the throttles past cruise right to the fire wall. The engine screamed and the trainer crouched, like a wild cat about to pounce. She closed her eyes and listened to the engines. When they "just felt right" she let off the brakes and the trainer erupted down the runway like a hellcat. She screamed happily as she felt the gee forces suck her into the seat. She was barely a third of the way down the run way when she felt the trainer ready to fly. She didn't pull up, she wanted to show that stuffy Mr. Silverman she could fly this thing. She pushed gear up and felt the wheels tug a last piece of runway then come up and the gear doors close with a sleight thump. Then she streaked down the runway at nearly 250 MPH. As she approached the end, she yanked the stick back and shot up like a firebird. The engine slowed with the strain, but she willed it on. "Let's go baby!" she cheered.

"Let's go baby!" she cheered as her Viper readied for takeoff. The three engines of the old Mk1 were at military throttle and she was just itching to push the Turbo button. She needed the final launch permission of the ATC up on the bridge of the Colonial Training Platform. It used to be a Battlestar at one time, but not anymore. It was the oldest ship in the fleet. In fact it used to BE the fleet. Now it was decommissioned as a mere training platform for both pilots and bridge crews.
"Cadet 8 launch when ready." the ATC said calmly. She heard "Cadet 8..." before she hit the button. She felt the turbos throttle up and waited two seconds for the engines to over-rev then let off the brakes. The Viper screamed down the launch tube, faster than the required speed for a Viper. She screamed what on Earth would be a rebel yell and immediately banked and rolled in victory before joining up with her instructor pilot, her IP. He looked over at her and shook his head. He liked her, but she had broken so many rules just now he would have to tell her to calm it down. Still, she was good. More than that, she had no fear. She was skittish out of the Vipers, but once she got inside and the canopy closed, she was all business, and he knew, given time, he would hate to be on the other end of her guns.
They paced along the side of the training platform for a while then she dived between the struts and the landing bay, a move forbidden to flight students. He followed trying to get her to change to the tactical frequency.
"Ok, sorry sir, had to do it at least once... it's a matter of pride you know." she giggled.
"You would be grounded already if you didn't..." he shook his head."You can't go on breaking the rules Tabitha!" he said angrily. She nodded. She knew he was now serious and would tolerate no more of her silliness.
"Look out sir!" she yelled and barely missed the shuttle that had strayed into the flight path. Her IP clipped it and was out of control. She yanked the stick, hitting the turbo on and off quickly and somehow got the Viper backwards in flight, something the Mk1 could never do, according to the experts, but they obviously had never flown with Tabbicat. She used the nose of her Viper to slow the rotation of her IP's Viper and braked with him, then she nudged him towards the landing bay and as he landed, she figured to herself..."I guess I passed."

The Pegasus looked awfully small. She was drifting backwards, something she seemed to do a lot of. The rest of the Newbie flight was headed out away from the Pegasus. Since the fleet was just parading for the peace treaty, they were just getting hours logged for their final flight certification. It was boring. She watched as shuttles scurried to and from the Peg. They looked like ants to her. She giggled as she pushed a thumb onto the canopy "squishing" them.
She spun the nose around to follow the flight and realized they were drifting too. Then she heard the first of them talking about something inbound. Tabitha activated her targeting computer and saw seven ships coming at them in an attack pattern. She instinctively fired her guns in a funnel pattern. She had no idea of range or size so it seemed the smart thing to do. The shapes fired back at her nearly hitting her; and her ship began to drift again as its control systems reset themselves. Her main avionics board shorted. She coughed through the smoke and pulled her visor down. Then the shapes came closer and they began to shoot the scrambling Vipers. She screamed and heard the others screaming over the radio. They begged the Gods to help them, they begged her, and they begged anyone. She changed fuses so fast she dropped the box on the cockpit floor, but she got the systems partially working. The guns were dead, as was her life support. She listened to the screams of her friends, her fellow cadets as they were watching the Cylons turn and methodically killed them, one at a time. She couldn't help them, she pounded on the canopy and screamed NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Tabitha didn't remember hitting the Turbo, she didn't want to remember. She didn't remember the systems shorting out again. She looked back, Peg was gone, and the fleet was in pieces. She replaced the fuses with the last of her spares and set a course for the other Vipers that appeared from Galactica. Along the way the assembly shorted again, sparks started her boot top on fire and she had to pat it out. Then she realized that she was adrift, her air supply was dwindling, and the cold of space was already making her drowsy. She was dying. She was going to freeze to death, or suffocate. She was in the middle of nowhere and drifting helplessly.

Life aboard Galactica was hard. She had never really lived aboard a Battlestar except Peg. It was much nicer than Galactica. It was big, like the training platform, but old, and dirty, and not very nice to live on. It was typically cold, and dark. The crew had been working hard, and she had joined the ranks of the gun crews since her Viper was needed by the more experienced pilots. Lately she had been at turret silo 17, every few hours she had to go back to fighting. She slept in the turret, ate in the turret, and even changed clothes in the turret. The only time she left was to potty, and that was rare. She hardly ate at all.
She waited, 45 minutes, no attack. She was almost ready to leave the turret, but she was afraid to. She was always afraid. She made a fist till her nails cut her palm. The pain brought her past her fear and she could leave the safety of the turret.
She went to the gun crews barracks and slept in the bunk they gave her for the first time in a week.

Pegasus! She was really out there. The crew had made it. The Peg had somehow gotten away. She threw up. They would know she was a coward. They would know she ran away. They would make fun of her and probably hang her. She ran away. She had flown off and left behind the dead Warriors she had flown with. Warriors don't leave their own behind. She swore that when she accepted the insignia. Yet, that's exactly what she did. Now it was there, and she had to face them. She was assigned to her as a Warrior detachment. Inside she felt herself turning summersaults. It felt like when she was in the Virgon World Nationals and had missed that double twisting layed out of the beam. There was flashing lights, blood, pain, the whole thing. She felt her legs go out from under her and gripped the latrine again and vomited hard into it. It was dry heaves now; she had thrown up so much she was losing weight. Not that she ever had a lot of weight to lose. She had always been skinny, thanks to a high metabolism. She didn't eat like a gymnast; she ate like a sumo wrestler. She just burned it off.

She looked up at the canopy of the torn up fighter. Her head ached, her body shivered, despite the heat of the welders and equipment of the flight bay. She heard the comforting ringing in her ears. Suddenly the world seemed to go silent. She closed her eyes and grabbed the bar in front of her... daddy was about to do another loop...

"Cold... the absence of heat." That's what she told herself as she drifted outside the Viper. "I'm floating... that's the absence of gravity. I'm a Colonial fighter pilot, that's the absence of intelligence. Why oh why did I have to join the Warriors!" She kicked the Viper and started to float away. Quickly she grabbed the canopy and pulled herself back to the Viper.
She looked around and couldn't help but wonder at the beauty. The stars were especially beautiful just now. For a moment she was lost in her heart, she loved flying, loved the excitement, the danger, but in the end, it was dancing with the stars that she loved most.
After a moment to take it in, she turned back to the crippled Viper. The Gimbal Injection Mount Bracket was off its traverse angle by three degrees. That's what the computer said. She grunted. "Ok, no problem, I just take my little wrenchie and um... turn the Gimbal something till it's um... oh frack." She threw the wrench at the Viper engine panel and it bounced off floating quickly away. She watched it float off and laughed. "Fracking deserter! Get back here and freeze to death with me you miserable piece of felgercarb!" It, of course, didn't reply.
She grabbed the canopy and shoved her boot to the top of the Gimbal Mount. With all her strength, she started kicking the crap outta the mount. "Go back into the place your supposed to be or I'm gonna kill you!" she screamed. At the last kick it moved. It slid into the portal that it had slipped out of and she heard it make an odd noise. "Oh frack, that can't be good." She meant to slump against the Viper but ended up floating to the end of her tether under the fuselage. After a few minutes, while the environmental suit steadily grew colder and colder, she forced herself into the cockpit and tried the engines. They were as dead as she was. "Oh Mimi, give me a fraking break, I'm cold, I have to pee and this suit is giving me a major wedgie!" she brushed the control panel and the engine lights came to life, the Viper was waking up. After a moment the starting engines began to ignite and the apex pulsar came to life, setting the bottom engines afire. She squealed as she connected herself to the ships onboard life support again. Heat began to pump through her suit and she felt freshly filtered air blow over her face. It was cold, but it was air.
Tabitha would make it back, which was all that mattered.

Sitting in the hanger listening to her crew chief explain what the Pulsar sumthinorother did and why she can't just kick start an apex pulsar, and blah blah blah... she just zoned out rubbing her hand over the canopy. What was done was done, and bitching about it didn't help. Besides, if he did his job right, the stupid Gimbal whatnot wouldn't have blown apart. After all, it WAS a fighter; it should be able to handle her flying. A little English here and there was what separated her from the boys. He was a tauron, she reminded herself. They complain about everything. She waited till he realized she was ignoring him, and then as he walked off she slid down to sit on the ladder. She had just leaned her head back to rest when the alert lights went on. She went to stand up and the back of her flight harness caught the release arm on the inside of the canopy. She reached back to unhook herself and hit the close canopy lever. As it slid she tried to turn around, knocking the ladder aside. The loss of support dropped her till her head was even with the bottom of the canopy, which just stuck in its track as it ran over the thick flight harness. Tabitha hung there, unable to unjam the canopy, and unable to get the harness release where she could get it unhooked. She laughed as she hung there, strapped to the side of her Viper. It had been a really lousy day so far, and the only thing that made it tolerable, was knowing she would definitely miss dinner. Somehow eating rehydrated swillinga didn't seem fair to her for all she did.

"So, what the heck are you doing up there recruit?" her IP asked seeing her waking up, having slept there all night.
"Well, when I'm lonely I come down here and hang out with the Vipers." she said not missing a beat. "Wanna join me sir?"

She had dreamed. She was in the hopper; its canopy was blurry with rain. The storms of Virgon didn't last too terribly long, but they laid down a heck of a storm when they came. Her daddy was flying, how he could see was a mystery to her.
She looked up at his face, illuminated by the instrument panel. Her arm was wrapped in the thick gauze that the coaches had put on it after she had fallen. He was rushing her to the Athena Medical center. They had said that nothing cold fly; the tropical storm was too severe and had grounded everything. Her dad told them to frack off and had gathered her up in his arms and was flying her in anyways.
He looked over at her and she could see he was nervous. He smiled and it all seemed okay again. He was in control of the hopper, he was superman. He could do anything. She felt warm and safe. Nothing could ever hurt her; he was always there for her. Not even the Cylons could stop him.
She looked out and saw the lights of Athena Station, the closest thing to a city that they lived next to. The little town she lived in was rural, just a few shops, the mall, the farm station, and the gym.
He brought the hopper in expertly and landed. The medics rushed to her and she was again taken care of, daddy had come through.

The rain had soaked the ground well before they had made camp. The shelter halves they used were next to useless at keeping the rain out. Tabitha looked up at the top of the tent and giggled. The wind had blown the rain that seeped in over onto her tent partner, Shelby. Poor Shelby was cussing up a storm, all the while Tabitha was laughing. She felt bad. Still, this was the Colonial Warriors. They didn't have to like it; they just had to do it. Shelby would get through, or she would wash out. Tabbi figured she would wash out in another week if things kept up this way. She could find humor in the little things, but the physical demands were tough. Being an Olympic gymnast, she was used to working out hard, but she was still only 98 pounds, and to carry 50 pounds of field gear, well that was over half her body weight. She struggled every day more than anyone else, but she HAD to make it to Vipers...
She looked up through the hole in the top of the tent. The stars were still visible, a little. She would be dancing among them someday...

The crash didn't hurt as much as the jumping down from the tree. She rubbed her butt and looked up at the little hopper still stuck in the tree. Daddy was gonna be pissed. That was the third time she crashed the hopper, and this time it looked bad. She was really in for it now.
As she walked home, again, she looked up at the stars. She had touched them. The hopper couldn't fly outside the atmosphere, but she had gotten to the edge of space with it before it failed. She had touched them, and they had touched her. Nothing was gonna be the same again.

Jake finally sat down. He had been running back and forth all evening. She was fraking glad he finally sat down; she was starting to get annoyed at him. He spun around on his seat. "Ok Tabbi, can I borrow the money or not?" he asked. Tabbi considered for a moment. Jake was always broke. He gambled it away faster than he earned it. She knew he was broke, and hungry, and looking for either a game, or a meal. Still, his story was original.
"Ok, here, thirty credits, but this is the last time." she said sternly. This time Jake had really better buy shoes.

Shelby waved through the cockpit canopy at her. Tabbi nodded and went back to watching Jake maneuver the shuttle closer to her for in-flight refuel. Shelby waved harder, Tabitha suddenly realized that she was not just saying hello. She looked to where Shelby was pointing and saw that while they were refueling, they were drifting into the space station. The big shuttle was heavy and Jake was having trouble firing the engines. Shelby finally managed to get her radio working a little; the electronic noise from the atmosphere was making it nearly impossible to understand anyone anymore. The Mk1 Vipers radios were bad at best, horrible under these circumstances.
Tabitha considered the possibilities. She suddenly maneuvered her Viper between the Refueler and the space station and nudged the nose against the side of Jakes ship. She advanced the throttles to full military throttle. The shuttle was closing on the side of the station. It was no use, the Vipers engines were never designed to push this kind of weight.
Tabitha pushed the turbo button and felt the engines go into after burn. The Viper creaked and groaned, still they closed on the station. Jake was yelling May Day into the comm; Shelby was trying to get within range of the base to get them to launch a tug.
She pushed the throttles harder against the block then jammed her foot against them and kicked till the governor broke and they went to the extreme end of the throttle wall. The Vipers engines screamed as they advanced far beyond their limits. The shuttle slowed and started to drift away from the station. She gave a rebel yell, then cut short. Jake was going to make it, but the planet was suddenly a whole lot larger, and she had nothing left, the engines were done.
She giggled and rubbed the lucky herbine foot her daddy had given her. Ok daddy, talk to me, now what?
She slid the canopy open and pushed away from the dying Viper. Jake had fired the shuttles engines and was closing on her. She waved and he slowed to allow her to grab onto the top of the shuttle. Shelby cheered and followed them back to the station. As they entered the landing bay, Tabitha grinned as she surfed the shuttle the whole way down, wondering if anyone ever got in trouble for surfing shuttles?

"So what you're saying is..." Tabitha prompted the officers who were talking to her.
"We need someone who is... talented and petite." The Full bird Colonel repeated. "Now I'm not going to offer this again, you take the fraking offer or..."
"Or what?" she asked she was honestly curious about the answer.
"Or... oh for the love of Kobol, just say yes already, your the only candidate we have already!"
"I know, I just wanted you to say so." she giggled. The Colonel grinned. He couldn't explain what it was about her he liked. He rubbed the shadow that was growing on his chin. "Ok, so your in." he agreed.
"I'm in... now that we agree about that, just what the heck am I in?" she asked.
"Stealth. We need you to test a new fighter, but its still at eighty percent scale."
"And you need an eighty percent scale pilot?" she laughed. "Ok, I'm your girl."
"Good... and you better be as good as they say you are." he warned.
"Someone said I'm good?"

Water wasn't supposed to be so darn hard. She was still dazed from the jump, and the entry into the water. E&E, or escape and evasion, was tough, and she was almost caught. The "Cylons" were only mere feet behind her when she dove over the cliff. The fall was actually kind of fun. She even managed to perform several full twisting summersaults, both laid out and tucked, before hitting the water, feet first, as being a gymnast, she was used to landing on her feet. The Colonial Warrior DI's acting the part of Cylons stood at the top of the cliff and shook their fists at her. She gave them the one finger salute and lay back in the water. As she looked up, that cliff had to be at least a hundred feet up. It was probably far less than that, but that was the story she was gonna tell. Her nieces and nephews were gonna hear about how it was two hundred feet up and she dove into semi-frozen water and managed to shoot a hole in the ice before she hit it. She giggled.
If war was this easy, she could take over a small country all by herself.

It was three days now. She was cold, tired, and hungry. She hadn't eaten in four days, and hadn't slept in at least as long. She had been running from the Wolvins since she had crashed the hopper in the tree. She was lost, she admitted it. The mountains were bigger than they seemed on tri-dee. She pulled off what used to be her jacket, it was shredded. As she sat on the ground, she gulped air and took the last of her water from her canteen. She knew better than to try the stupid idea of just wetting her lips. If she were to dehydrate, she would do so, but sipping too little water wouldn't help her at all, just waste what she had.
She heard them, about a half mile off. They had tracked her over the rocky ridge. She knew they couldn't climb it, but they didn't need to, they just ran around the side to the top. She had to keep moving. She could see the light of a city in the far distance, no more than fifty miles away. By day it was too far to see, but at night, she could see the glow of the city over the horizon. She had run nearly fifty miles already. She wasn't sure how much she had left in her.

The river carried her a mile down stream, the DI's would be hard pressed to find her now. They had nothing to go by, not even the daggets could track her. She knew, she had faced Wolvins before, she knew what they were capable of.
She paddled to the side and got out, careful to drag some driftwood behind her to cover her tracks. Once the sand dried, it would look like any other piece of wood washed up after a rain. She smiled and looked up at the stars. Her daddy was flying somewhere up there tonight. He had patrols on the odd days of the month with the Virgonian Defense Force. She knew he would be flying over the area trying to catch a glimpse of his daughter. Daddy always knew.

She made tracks through the streams she crossed on the way to the city. It wouldn't fool the Wolvins, they were far too smart. She could only confuse them for a few minutes, but every minute she had to get farther away could mean her life. She ran as fast as she could down the middle of a stream, it was hard running against the tide, but it was vital she do so. The stream would carry her scent down stream with it, past the Wolvins, who would follow it at first.
She was confident she could make it home... until she heard the growling.
Terrified, she spun around, holding a rock. It wouldn't hurt the wolvin no matter how hard she threw it.
She backed towards the shore, on dry land she could get to a tree, maybe. Out here, she was defenseless. The wolvin advanced, she backed off. The shore was too far away, the trees to low. She swallowed as she considered the last moments of her life. She was braced for the pounce, the wolvin crouched. She waited...
BANG! She heard the shot, felt the round pass close to her. The wolvin landed just before her. BANG! She heard it again, the dead wolvin jerked from the impact. She fell back into the water on her butt. From the side, she saw daddy running towards her holding his magnum rifle. "Die you fracker! Nobody hurts MY little girl!" her dad yelled as he leaped and bounded to her. His big boots came down on the Wolvins head and she heard a cracking noise as his 258 pounds crushed a jaw and probably more. He tossed the rifle aside and scooped her up. She was safe; daddy always was there for her.

Tabbi pulled the branches over herself for warmth. The DI's had another 24 hours to find her, and then it was game over. By now they were probably gathering up the rest of the group of Viper pilot wannabees. They had teased her about E&E. She would enjoy smiling smugly at them when she received the commendation for successfully evading the DI's. No cadet had done so for almost ten years. Not since her brother did. They really didn't understand. Her daddy was a Recon Warrior. He was the bestest of the bestest. She remembered the day she finally understood what he meant by 1st Batt, Recon, 5th Colonials. It was the infamous group that defended the colony from the Cylons during the siege of Virgon. She had nothing else to do but lay there so she day dreamed about the tale she had heard her daddy's friend tell her about him. He and five other Viper pilots had flown against a hundred Cylon Raiders, each of them was shot down, but not before they stopped wave after wave of Cylon bombers. He and two others had survived ejection and had made their way back to the air base to get into the cockpit of three more Vipers. They flew those out and defended another two waves of bombers. This time only her daddy and uncle Rickabee survived. They both had their Vipers shot out from under them, but both managed to parachute to safety, where daddy met momma. But they only had a few hours, before daddy called for pickup and the next day was flying alone, in the last Viper, half a tank of fuel, only fifty rounds in his guns, straight into a wave of seventy five bombers and thirty fighters. He knew he was going to die. He knew there was no hope, that he wouldn't even slow them down. Yet he charged. She beamed and cried happily hearing how the 35th Colonial Tactical fighter wing arrived just as he was firing his last rounds. They saved his life, they saved the colony. She loved that story, loved running her fingers over the Virgonian Medal of Honor. Uncle Rickabee also had one, but his didn't have the oak leaf clusters above it. That meant something, but at the moment she couldn't remember what.

She was grounded for two months, but daddy let her fly the hopper three weeks later when it was fixed up. Momma was angry about it, but she understood. She laughed, but wasn't laughing when she talked about her wild child and her daddy. Still, she tried to seem like she didn't care, she pretended to laugh and smile, something Tabitha learned to do.

27 hours later, Tabitha marched into the base, she was tired, cold, she stunk, but she had evaded the DI's. She saluted the company commander and turned to salute the DI's, who suppressed her by saluting her. They meant it. She had not only proved that someone so small could perform in the field as a grunt, but that they cold perform in the field with no equipment what so ever.

It seemed worse that it was, she was sure of that. She couldn't REALLY have broken it.
"Look, I told you, you bank too hard, the pressure valve that controls the thrusters on the wing tips froze up, and that's why you had the pitch problem. It's frozen, Princess." the tech snarled at her. She hated being called Princess.
"Well, what will fix it?" she asked trying to understand.
"Well, I will have to find a way to coax it into its normal action position." he said shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"Have you tried just kicking the crap outta it?" she asked. The tech gave her a glare that could freeze a nova. "Well, it works for me... mostly..." she said smiling.
"Get away from my aircraft. Get away from this hanger." he said waving a wrench at her. She shrugged as she stood up on the wing and looked at the pressure valve. As soon as the tech turned back to look at it, she stuck her foot out and kicked it a few times. The valve made a horrible sound as it slipped back into position. The tech turned and grabbed her foot. "What the blazes do ya thing your doing girl!"
"There... worked. Call me when its refueled." she said taking her foot out of his hands and sliding down the wing root to the ground. He looked at the pressure valve and then at her and tossed his wrench at something. Something told her that she had made an enemy for life.

"Tabbi, listen to me carefully." her daddy said sitting her down. "In the Warriors, people come in two types. The smart, and the strong." he tugged one of her pig tails. "You, girl, are not big enough to qualify for the strong, so you better be smart. You're gifted with a lot of luck. I don't know how you do it, but you just seem to get lucky when it matters most." he said smiling. She knew he meant it.
"Ill be smart daddy, I promise." she kissed his cheek and he stood. It was done. He said what he wanted to say, and she had taken his meaning. Her daddy was like that. He spoke little, praised less, but seemed to know what to do all the time.

The fifth flight of the ATF (advanced tactical fighter) went well. It was stealthy, it was somewhat fast, capable of super-cruise, and handled like a high school triad players hands on a Saturday night date. She couldn't believe how fast it banked and the radical maneuvers it performed with its vectored thrust. It was a remarkable bird. She activated her recorder and dictated her notes, separating her opinions from facts. She made observations about things, like the vibration of the instrument panel, the angle of the seat, the way the cockpit seemed a bit too high on the sides...
The development team loved the fact she was able to give them solid advice. They praised her feed back, even the fact she had defined the envelope that the ATF was flying at.

Colonel Bridger looked up at her as she entered his office. She walked to within three paces of his desk, stopped, stood at attention, and reported in a loud clear voice. "Sir, Ensign Catlett reporting as ordered SIR!"
He pretended to be displeased with her. "Tabitha, I have here some reports of you abusing the ATF." he started. She didn't move, but her eyes showed that she felt that was a lie.
"Well, what do you say to that?" he asked.
"No excuses sir." she knew that that response was the only acceptable one allowed in the Warriors. Colonial Warriors did what they were told to do, went where they were told to go, and offered NO excuses for their actions.
"Chief Danforth doesn't seem to like you... how do you feel about that?"
"Chief Danforth was reporting I abused the ATF sir?" she asked knowing her CO would never tell her, it was not policy to tell an officer who reported something against their character unless formal action was to be taken. Her CO was trying to back channel to her that he planned to do nothing about the reports. That meant they were probably destined for the circular file. (trash can)
"I didn't say that Ensign." her Co said. He didn't deny it either.
"Perhaps if the chief spent less time writing reports and more time PMing my fighter, there would be less occasion for me to assist with its maintence." she said smartly. Her daddy would have been proud.

Daddy always seemed to know what she wanted for her birthday. He was good at squeezing the info out of Allison. She loved her twin sister, but they didn't get along much. Allison was more of a tomboy; Tabitha was more of a girly girl. They just didn't see eye to eye. Well, they did see eye to eye, only because they were identical twins, but personality wise, they were like sand and water.
She blew out the candles, fifteen of them. She was going to graduate from college prep and then off to Marine boot camp. Then on to Flight School for Vipers. Daddy had promised her a special gift this year. He waited till she was done opening her brother's gift, a new set of pom poms in the college prep schools colors. She had been saving for them all summer, now she had them. She kissed her brother and hugged him. He was the bestest brother a girl could ask for. He always stood up for her in school, he made sure that no boys asked her out if she didn't want them to, which she never did, she had been carrying on a secret relationship with another girl on her cheer team from finishing school. On Virgon such things were not frowned upon, but she wanted to join the military, and they had rules. She had to hide it to keep from having it found out, and ruining her chances to fly Vipers.
Momma got her the knee board she had mentioned she wanted, thinking that's what daddy was going to give her. Then he handed her the envelope. She opened it and a silver ribbon slipped down, attached to it was a certificate for full flight lessons at the flying school just up the road. She squealed, hugged him and danced her happy dance.

She sat outside the turret waiting for the next wave of Cylons. The smoke of the guns had filled the turret from last time, and she was still trying to air it out, but the ventilators were overloaded from the fire they had to purge on hanger deck. Outside someone had painted a sign: Caprica 45 LY with an arrow back towards the colonies, Bridge 35 meters with an arrow up, and Hell with an arrow pointing to her turret. She laughed and grabbed the paints and painted Devil on her turret chair. They all laughed till they cried, but then the section security officer made them paint offer the signs. Security...

She sat in the cockpit of the Viper, her MkII. It smelled of burned circuit board, sweat, and blood. The techs had put some of the computer displays back, and her engines were on again. She cried to herself. People don't laugh much anymore. No one seems to laugh. But still, they were alive, and that was something.

Tabitha leaned back against the wall of the gym. She had just told her coach she was retiring. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. The Catletts were no family of quitters. They just drove on when things got tough. She was not in the habit of quitting. But she had a date with destiny. The stars were calling her, and she had to go. Her soul burned for them.

Sitting by the camp fire, she pulled her hair back from her face. The wind was cool, the sleight mist felt good to her. She stood up and grabbed her rifle. The survival course was a seven day ordeal. They took only field packs, with typical Warrior infantry load into the field. They would survive a week with nothing but what they took with them. So far, it had been five days. Most of the other recruits had called it in and were now safely back at barracks, eating chow and sleeping in bunks. They would not be accepted as infantry. She didn't want to be infantry either, but the DI had joked that she would be the first one to quit. She was going to make it just to spite him.
She walked to the edge of the fires light. She had dug a pit three feet deep and built the fire in it. That prevented others from seeing it other than by air. She defeated that by placing her shelter half over the top and wetting it regularly with water. The only light that escaped wouldn't be visible unless you actually stumbled into her little camp.
She walked slowly and quietly around the perimeter. She listened, since she learned from her daddy that eyes are less effective than ears in low light. He taught her so many Recon tricks growing up. She had always thought it was just a game daddy played with her, sort of like how her brother played army men with the neibor boys. But she realized it was real life survival skills.
She pulled the bark off a tree and saw some grubs. She scooped them out with her fingers and put them in a plastic bag. She would use them for bait tomorrow when she went fishing. She giggled at how she saw other recruits eating the grubs and stuff. Grooossseee! She didn't need to eat bugs, she could fish, and had already caught a young wolvin in a snare trap and had been eating it for the last day and a half, but she threw it in the brush after before it went bad. Bad... she shrugged. Bad is only a label we put on situations that are uncomfortable. That's what her daddy said. Anything that we can handle easily and quickly is neither bad, not difficult. So it's all attitude. As soon as we face our fears, accept the reality of the situation, and begin to take action, it is no longer bad, it may be hard, but it is not bad. Bad is when it's too far gone. She sighed and walked back over to lie on the bed of branches she had made.

The turret was so filled with smoke and so hot that even the air in her mask burned going down. She fired the turret till it ran dry, and then hit the signal for reload. Things were bad.

He slammed back into the rock hard enough to feel its edge through his armor. Over head shots flew, he heard a couple impact on the big rock, one bounced off at an angle into the night sky. To his side, illuminating the battle field, a city burned. He checked the counter on his rifles magazine. He had 35 shots left. In his ammo pouches he had one full magazine left, another two hundred needles.
Somebody flew over the rock next to him and rolled, crawling back to lean against it as he was leaning against his. They also checked their ammo counter, but they changed out magazines, locking a round into the chamber before looking over at him. They locked eyes, briefly. The other Marine nodded and smiled. He nodded back. More rounds hit their rocks and the heard someone yell over the radio that they were hit.
He snuck a peek around the rock and saw Gunny Tremane lying on his side. He looked like hell. His side was opened up so he could see what may have been his kidney hanging out. He knew Gunny was hurt badly, and likely to die.
He fired off the last of the magazine to get the Cylons to duck a bit. The other Warrior fired covering fire and Sgt. Cole ran to Gunny and dragged him back to the safety of the rocks. He felt two rounds hit him in the back armor, one hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
He keyed his radio and hoped it still worked. "Arley Burke, Arley Burke, this is Sandman 421, we need immediate dust off, we have fired our final perimeter fire and we are over run. Repeat, we are di di mao!" he yelled over the explosion that opened up a small crater ten meters off to his left.
"Sandman 421, this is Arley Burke, we have two assault shuttles en-route, what is the LZ status?" the radio operator aboard the Colonial Corvette asked.
"We are fraking HOT you moron, didn't you just hear the fraking explosions?" Sgt. Cole wanted to say, but he was a professional. "We are somewhat over run at the moment, I would estimate we are probably a hot LZ." he said like he was talking to a child. Any fire base that is past final perimeter fire and over run is a hot LZ, but this kid probably didn't understand what he had just heard.
"Copy, hot LZ, can you provide suppressive fire Sandman?" the kid asked. Sgt. Cole took a deep breath to keep from telling this kid to go frack himself. "Arley Burke, this is Sandman 421, if we could provide suppressive fire, we wouldn't be over run. Now get the fraking dust off here NOW!" he lost it.
"Sandman 421, I regret to inform you that dust off is not able to penetrate the triple A, if you cannot suppress the anti aircraft, then dust off will not be possible." the wet behind the eared kid replied with, Cole decided, a bit of satisfaction. Cole would kill the fracker if he got a hold of him.
"Sandman, this is Bruno 75, what is your position?" a new voice came over the radio.
Sgt. Cole knew that assault shuttles were using Bruno as their prefix, the air to ground fighters were using Sandie. He couldn't get the Sandies to help out; they were already fully engaged defending firebase 206. His LP was a minor asset; they needed to defend the firebase at all costs. He could only hope some Bruno pilot could provide a miracle. "Bruno 75, we are at J356 by P732. We are behind the big rock formation to the North by North West."
"I copy Sandman, I know where you are, by the latrine trench right?" the pilot asked. Cole smiled; the Bruno was Colonial Warrior, not Command flunkiel. This Warrior knew the terrain.
"Yeah, chogie! Situation in doubt." Cole said giving the other ten men hiding in the trench a thumbs up. He turned and slammed the last magazine into his rifle.
"Bruno 75, this is Arley Burke ATC, you are not cleared to leave station, do not, repeat, do not go off station." the punk aboard the Corvette tried to countermand the air evac.
"Arley Burke ATC, you are cordially invited to go intercourse yourself." The Warrior pilot said as sweetly as if he was whispering sweet nothings to a preacher's wife. The silence that followed was deafening.
"Bruno, this is Sandman, what's your ETA?" Cole asked trying not to laugh.
"Twenty mikes." Bruno replied.
"Well, as sure as God makes little green apples, we aint got twenty mikes!"
"Fine, be there in five." the Pilot said suddenly more apprehensive than before.
"Bruno 75, this is Arley Burke, to get there that fast would require you to fly right through their triple A!" the ATC said, then quietly "Oh frack..." as he realized that he had just endangered the Bruno more by providing a flight path for the Cylon AAA should they be monitoring the radio traffic.
"On behalf of the Cylon Empire, thank you ATC." The Warrior pilot replied.
Bruno 75 dove towards the deck, the engines on the ends of his wings suddenly lit up after burners. The HV-177 was not designed to exceed 458 MPH, but as he dropped below seven thousand feet, on his way to tree top level, he pegged the air speed indicator at just under 620MPH. The assault shuttle was suddenly far beyond its flight envelope.

Tabitha rolled her Viper over into a dive. The Cylons were passing under her; they had not noticed her as they flew by, as she was drifting silently in ambush.
She began a series of braking maneuvers designed to bring the Viper into gun range just aft of the lead Cylon, the two following on the left and right, or port and starboard as she learned them to be called, were about fifty meters ahead of her to her sides. They noticed her just as she smiled and began what the pilots aboard the CSS Rhapsody called the Tabbicat attack.
She hit full reverse thrusters and began a roll, slightly off center, the nose rotating counter clockwise at about a three degree angle, increasing rapidly with each rotation. The center Cylon blew apart before he could even react, the other two began their well known cross over move, only to become victims of her attack pattern. They died milliseconds after their leader, giving them just enough time to see the bright red 7 on the tail of her Viper. The Cylons were already after the infamous "Red 7", and she was letting them know, "I'm here, and I'm not afraid."

Maj. Catlett dove the Bruno down to tree top level, evidenced later by the amount of pieces of broken tree stem and leaved that were packed into the creases where the landing gear doors mated to the fuselage. Green puss from crushed leaves also was streaked over the bottom windows, where his feet were. The armored plasteel transparent view ports were next to useless, but he didn't need them.
He guided the Maverick, the code name for the transport, straight at the guns the Cylons were firing. Explosions shook the craft, but they were far too high, but the Cylons were walking them down. Missiles launched, he fired off chaff and flares, the rear of his shuttle looked as if it was blowing up itself from the smoke and fire of firing off so much counter measure.
Arley Burke ATC didn't realize he had keyed his mike, he was screaming a steady stream of NO! Bruno 75, no, don't go there, oh God no! Oh GOD please NOOOOOOOOOOO! His screen lit up with tell tails of explosions from AAA and A/G missiles. It looked like a chapter from the stories he read as a child of Soltoys Journey to Hell. He felt his throat tighten. That stupid Warrior was killing himself and his flight crew to rescue some dumb Warriors that were doomed anyhow.

Tabitha pulled back on her stick, chopped the throttle, pitched forward, hit the turbo for a split second, then pitched to the right rolling out inverted and climbing. The Cylon formation that had passed before her recent kills had turned and was trying to track the erratically flying craft. They had no luck and their missiles couldn't determine any logical probable course so they defaulted to preset hunter seeker mode and went off in random directions till they ran out of fuel. She pitched to the side and hit her turbo again for a full two second burn then banked to her left, now still climbing, but doing so to the right while facing left. The Cylons tracked the forward movement and banked to follow where her momentum was taking her, but as soon as they banked, she hit her Turbo and countered the move and was jetting off into the debris field she had created by the first group. They lost her as she came to rest among the debris.

Ahead she saw the column of Cylon Raiders. They filled her screen. According to her own count, she had scooped up a total of twelve Raiders so far, her fuel was low and her ammo almost spent. She knew she was supposed to land, to refuel and reload, but she heard her daddy's voice, "You better be smart Tabbi girl, your not big enough to be strong..."
Tabitha aimed her Viper towards the middle of the Cylon attack wave. She grinned and was singing the Colonial Warriors Hymn at the top of her voice as she charged into the fight, she fired her guns dry, ran her tank almost empty before aiming for the lead Cylon bomber. As she collided with the ship, she was laughing. The explosion would have taken out most of the following Raiders. She stood her ground, she wouldn't go down, they could break her, they couldn't take her, she fought them under blood red skies.

The explosions seemed to rattle the assault shuttle like a hammer of God slamming into it. The crew chief looked over at Major Catlett. "We can keep this up Major, she'll fly apart." he warned.
"Then she'll fly apart damnitall! Now shut your fraking mouth and get the hell out of my face!" he growled. His voice took on a sinister quality, of one who is used to his orders being obeyed without question. Major Catlett was soaked in sweat, he was tired and worse of all, he was angry.
Arley Burke ATC had made enough noise that the CNC had mirrored his screen to the main view screen to see what the heck had animated his rather coldly efficient ATC so much. He had watched the assault shuttle dive from eleven thousand feet to just about fifty feet. He had seen the crazy Warrior Viper pilot, who had taken the shuttle assignment after his Viper had been destroyed in the battle for Athena on Virgon. The crazy Warrior pilot had flown against an incredible number of Cylons and had lived to tell the tale, receiving the highest award given in the Colonial Service, on behalf of the entire planet Virgon. Again he was defending his home planet, but this time the city of Paradise. He watched the shuttle fly straight into the worst of the Cylon AAA, saw the explosions and the flames shooting nearly a half mile into the sky. The Cylons were launching everything, which also gave the air superiority fighters the desperate chance they needed to provide some high level cover for the gun ships helping defend the Firebase. This jarhead was gonna die so that the firebase could get some relief, he was giving his life to draw the AAA and S/A missiles away from the firebase attack, onto himself. The CNC signaled the ship commander. Capt. Silverman walked over. "Who's that?" he asked the CNC.
"It's a Major Catlett." CNC answered.
"Hell of a Warrior..." he said.
Then, to the disbelief of all, the shuttle emerged from the far end, its wings blackened from flame, its tail, once freshly painted, now bare metal, darkened as if blued. The shuttle flew on, exceeding its maximum safe cruising speed by almost a hundred fifty knots. "Gods, he's a hell of a good Warrior!" the Captain said loud enough that the rest of the bridge crew heard.
"Bruno 75 to Sandman, how you holding up down there?"
Sgt. Cole sounded tired. He was hurting from some shrapnel in his leg and was trying to provide some first aid to his Corporal. "We need you badly, I think they are about to push us." he warned.
"I see yellow!" Major Catlett asked; the Sgt knew exactly what he meant.
"We are Yellow." Sgt Cole replied throwing a yellow smoke grenade in front of the entrenched Warriors.
"I see you, stand by please, we are gonna say hello to your friends before we dust off." Major Catlett said bitterly. Over the radio cheering from eight battered Warriors and two badly wounded Colonial Special Forces could be heard.
The assault shuttle pitched up, dropping speed quickly and assuming a good altitude for air to ground action. The five members of his flight crew, who had been holding on for dear life up till now, quickly assumed their positions and the G-340 miniguns on the sides of the shuttle began to strafe the area, chewing the woods to bits, and making pieces of Cylon no bigger than a quarter. Nearly two hundred thousand rounds of ammo spit from the angry guns of the shuttle, as the Warriors gave a little back.
Major Catlett spun the shuttle on its tail, a maneuver it was never designed to perform, and realigned the wing tip jets into vertical position. (Much like a OV-22 Osprey) The assault shuttle began to lower itself into the middle of the fight. The gunners on the port side emptied their guns ammo bins and as soon as they called empty, Major Catlett turned the ship to allow the starboard gunners to kick a little Cylon...
He set the ship down on top of the Colonial position, its landing gear up, but the rear ramp down, it hovered a foot or two off the ground as the LP team dragged each other into the now empty cargo deck. The crew of the Bruno helped them to seats and after a minute to strap even the wounded in, they signaled Major Catlett they were ready to blast their way out.
Major Catlett turned and aimed the craft back the way they had come. "Hang on everyone, its gonna be bad." he warned. It never occurred to him that few people in the colonies would justify the use of the term "bad" quite like he would.

Tabitha was still shaking when the simulator canopy opened and the lights came on. A Command captain was standing a few yards off, in the corner. He looked over at Colonel Catlett. "Good God, Slayer, you got any more like her at home? Five of her and I can take the whole Cylon empire on." he joked.
Colonel Catlett looked at his daughter with pride. "Just my boy, but he's not as good. Being a fighter pilot is all about balance and knowing how to counter momentum. She's a gymnast, she's spent most of her life upside down and tumbling through the fraking air, I guess she's plenty comfortable flying like that."
"Yeah, well, I know for damn sure where she got that last suicide attack from. Sure looks familiar. Sounded familiar too."
"That's what scares me Danny. She's better than I ever was, by a long shot. I'm afraid she's too good, and someone is gonna put her in a no-win situation because they have no one else who could do the job."
"Kind of like her old man?" Captain Daniel McClennehan asked smiling. He had been at Athena when the Cylons over ran the outer perimeter, but was wounded too badly to fly.
"Frack you."

The Bruno aircraft rolled onto her belly, the lower armor being thicker, built to withstand some surface to air fire. The AAA was punishing the frame. He heard it whine, felt the control surfaces being damaged. The stick nearly tore from his grip as a missile detonated too close, ripping away some of the wing. He lowered the craft, flying upside down only feet from the ground. Again it flew through a tunnel of fire. The Cylons had not thought to build their anti aircraft guns or missiles to fire back at the ground, and Major Catlett knew that. He had studied the pictures the recon craft had taken of them, noticed they had no ability to traverse at a negative angle. He was risking his life on his expert observations; he wasn't suicidal, just a Warrior doing his duty. Warriors don't leave their own behind.

The landing pad was lined with medics and officers. The Corvette Captain himself was there to greet Major Catlett upon landing. There wasn't much left of the shuttle. It was a total loss. The engine nacelles were bent, the wings were filled with holes, from the size of a dime, to a couple almost big enough to stand in. The tail was melted in parts, its identification numbers were totally melted off. Even the canopy was shattered; it was luck alone that it didn't blow out when they left the atmosphere. Had they had a choice, Major Catlett would have landed on the planet surface, but the landing gear was missing in the back, and the front was melted into a strange angle semi-retracted. He had tried to move the engines into a vertical position, but they were fused in the flight mode. His avionics suite was fried; he had to follow another shuttle to the landing bay of the Corvette to get there. In all, he should have been dead, the Warriors aboard should all be dead as well, and the entire thing should have been a foot note in the Warrior history, as the story of a pilot who died heroically. Instead, the Captain was about to nominate Major Catlett for another Medal of Honor.

Tabitha turned the ATF back towards home. The techs were waiting for her to land it, hoping it had no problems. She would be happy to report that it flew like a hopper. They might not understand, but to her, that was high praise. A hopper was steady, reliable, predictable, responsive, and best of all, gave their pilots the feeling of extreme confidence.
She taxied the craft to the front of a camouflaged hanger. Her crew chief walked over, having by now figured out she was never getting into trouble, since the base CO seemed to like her. That stupid General Silverman didn't know how much of a problem she was, but someday he would show him.
She popped the canopy, another rule she broke, the canopy was never to be opened until inside the hanger. He shook his head. Warriors...
Tabitha unbuckled her harness, the front modified for female pilots, instead of two single straps down the shoulders, two diamonds rejoined at the bottom and middle, forming a double diamond pattern that allowed a woman's breasts to not be crushed at high gee maneuvers.
She pulled off her helmet and placed it on the dashboard, atop the HUD. As the ATF slowed and finally stopped just outside the hanger. Tabitha shut down the engines and didn't wait for them to stop turning. She climbed out of the fighter and raised her arms. "You boys got one hell of a nice aircraft!" she said. The ground crew cheered her like she was a goddess. Her crew chief couldn't help but feel proud. Ok, maybe she wasn't so bad, even if she didn't know a rule she hadn't broke. He nodded and helped her down. Ensign Tabitha "Princess" Catlett had returned his baby and had complimented it very highly. He was proud and joined the crew as they raised her onto their shoulders and carried her around the flight line. With their help, the YF-730A CosmoHawk was ready for full scale production. In ten years, it would replace the venerable F-84 Mk7 Viper as the primary aerospace superiority craft in the Planetary Defense Units and Warriors. His name would be legendary; he was the man who made it fly.
Tabitha shook each member of her ground crews hand as she finally departed to report to the CO. She was really starting to love this bird. She was almost sad to be parting ways with it. It was a hell of an airplane and someday was going to provide a great surprise to the Cylons.

Daddy always knew. She had thought she was going to surprise her momma and daddy by arriving unannounced, but as soon as she opened the door "Surprise!" and they both stood up from behind the sofa. They had decorated the room and had a cake with candles on it already lit. She laughed and hugged them both. This was her last day of leave and she was about to report to the Pegasus. She had stayed with the ATF program right up till they packed both the 80 scale mock up she had test flown, as well as the first 100 scale model, into the armored shipping containers aboard the Galactic Transport.
"Congratulations Princess!" her daddy said hugging her tightly. "Whatever happens from now on, you're always welcome home, doesn't ever doubt that you have a home to come back to." her mom said holding her arm.
"I love you both, I'm gonna make you proud someday." she promised.
Her mom motioned an arm towards all the cheerleading trophies and the Olympics medals. "You already have Princess." she said kissing her cheek.
"If I'm not proud of you by now, then I don't see what you could do to change that." her daddy said. She faced him; he had said he was proud of her. Her daddy didn't offer praise like that easily, or often.

Standing in front of Pegasus CAG, feeling like a fool, she thought about the ATF and her daddy's words. She stood straight, head held high, and looked him right in the eyes. "I request you find a Viper or some other craft I can fly, I'm tired of gun crews, sir." she said. She couldn't think of anything else to add, that seemed to say it all.
He didn't reply immediately, but he took in what he saw. Literally, she was the type that could get knocked down, sure, but she always got back up. Sometimes it took her a while, in this case a couple months. Still, in the end, she did her duty. Had he been Galactica CAG, he would have put her in that turret himself. She could shoot down Raiders, no doubt about it. She shot the hell outta them. Turret 11 shot down more Raiders than the rest of Port Side Aft, Lower quadrant put together. Her lack of flight time in the MkII would have given him concern about sending her out to fight at first, and then by the time Galactica needed those pilots, she had already proven she was worth three pilots by defending in that turret. Even now he considered assigning her to a turret or maybe having her train other turret gunners, but he saw the look in her eyes. He agreed; it was time to fly.
"Yes, I know that. So why don't you report to your wing commander and have him check you out on the MkII?" CAG asked simply.
"Aye sir." she replied.
"Hey, wait... I heard something from one of the survey teams checking for damage aboard the cargo movers. They almost jettisoned some stuff, but inside a big shipping container they found something that I'm not sure what to make of." CAG said grabbing her arm to hold her back. She was itching to get to her wing commander to get back into a Viper.
"What's that got to do with me?" she asked irritated that something was preventing her from getting back into a Viper.
"That's what I want to know. This has your name all over it, literally." CAG said. "Does the term YF-730A mean anything to you?"
"Yeah, it's a project that I was asked to help out on before I reported to Peg, sir."
"Project... did it succeed? I mean what happened?" he asked playing dumb.
"I'm not sure; I finished my part, testing out a fighter. It was a smaller scale flying mockup, but after it was packed up, I was dismissed from the project." she said. "I'm not sure I can tell you more sir, I mean, it was Most Secret, but since the colonies are gone, I'm not sure what relevance it has now sir."
"Oh I think it may be very relevant." he said. "You know what, never mind reporting to your wing commander, why don't you take off that battle gear and come with me, I think we need to check something out." he said. It was not a suggestion.
"Aye sir." she said taking off her armor and gun harness. He noticed that she wore a rather unique harness under the armor; it looked like it was made special. It had two diamond shaped patterns in front, and was smaller than a regulation combat harness. It was also black, not green as were standard flight harnesses. She also wore a rather snug black pressure suit under her green tee shirt and camouflage pants. He suspected that there was quite a bit more about this ensign that he would find interesting. The notations in her SRB (Service Record Book) by some very senior officers, stating they preferred that she be given every opportunity to prove herself in flight, gave him some pause to consider just who the heck she was. Her last name was the same as the legendary "Hero of Virgon", and if he remembered, she mentioned something about being from Virgon. He decided there might be something here to work with after all.

The freight container had been cut up and used for damage repair, but in the middle of the cargo bay sat the CosmoHawk. She was still painted a dull grey, atmospheric camouflage, but the full scale (nonflyable) model was dull black, the legend F-73 Venom was painted on its side. Officially, it would be labeled the Venom by the Colonial Warriors, a supplement to the Viper. The Colonial Warrior version would be deployed as a team, Viper and Venom. The Planetary Defense Force version would be labeled the CosmoHawk, its landing gear reinforced and a tail hook assembly built into a retractable bay for wet carrier duty. Hers had the landing hook. It was a rugged looking craft. The size of it belied its lethal abilities. It had no missile capabilities, but its internally mounted needle gun carried seventy thousand rounds and could make a Cylon Raider into a pin cushion in under a second. Its rate of fire was somewhere above 50,000 rounds per minute. At that rate, it needed only a second or two of gun to fill an enemy craft full of holes. He had heard about the gun they were using in this bird. It was named the GAU-550, after its five barrels and its fifty thousand round per minute rate of fire. He saw her name painted on the side, Ensign Tabitha "Princess" Catlett.
"Princess?" he asked.
"Sir?" she asked not sounding thrilled that he had said that horrible call sign.
"I said..." he started.
"Sir (in her head spelling it cur), your cordially invited to go intercourse yourself..." she said coldly but sounding respectful. He smiled. She was a fiery one.
"Thank you your highness." he joked. "Seriously, how the frack did you get that name?"
"Daddy calls me that. ONLY daddy calls me that!" she said. The way she said it he had to remind himself that she was NOT in charge, as he found himself saying "Yes ma'am." before he could stop himself. She was a chip off the old block. Just like her daddy.
"Well, I'm your CAG, and I think it's a perfect way to honor the memory of your father, the greatest Warrior pilot ever. I think you should reconsider your attitude. Only your father would be able to give a firebrand like you a label like that." he laughed and tousled her hair. He was in a quandary, she was so little, so young looking. He saw her as both, child of her father, as well as potentially one of the best pilots he had ever met. Surely Starbuck and Princess could trade a few notes on flying. Starbuck was a better shot, he was sure, in or out of the cockpit, but from her records, this girl, and he had to remind himself, she only looked like a little girl, this woman, could do things with a Viper, that it was never intended to do. He was eager to see what she could do in this ATF.
"I'm amazed that its here sir." she said running a hand along its nose, lovingly, like a mother would touch the face of her baby. He watched as she punched the kick plate and the ladder well opened. She climbed up and pushed the code and the security lock dropped off allowing access to the cockpit. He had wondered how the frack they were going to get into it.
"Momma's home Mimi." she said. She lifted a helmet off its dashboard and sat sown in it. The helmet was weird, its visor was not the clear plasteel of a Viper helmet, it was a slide down affair with what he guessed was a helmet mounted HUD. He climbed up and stood looking into the cockpit. It was small, far too small for him to get into. It looked custom built for her. The instrument panel was all glass and no visible switches or knobs were anywhere to be seen.
"This thing flies?" he asked.
"Damn straight sir." she answered. "I can fly the pulsars off your Vipers with this thing. Well, at least for a while."
"Oh? Tell me more." he said.
"Well, I guess the cat's outta the bag..." she said considering whether to tell him about the secret project or not. It's an interceptor. It's not a fighter, despite the designation. It's designed to intercept Cylon attack formations and to kill them before they realize they are even targeted. It's a very short range bird, it had no targeting computers to speak of, and it's all passive. It's only sensing capacity is from a tail mounted pod that can be trailed about two thousand meters aft of it, allowing it to sense very close objects. It also can transmit a directional signal from it. I used it effectively to pick up simulated Cylons while flying in a thermal layer a hundred fifty feet below them. They couldn't track my thermal, its way too low, like non-existent practically, but they showed up like bright red dots on my HUD. My helmet HUD, not the redundant Dash HUD. I don't use that one. The instrument panel is also a redundant system, if the helmet avionics are taken out, mechanical back ups are able to be displayed on them. It's all touch sensitive. The helmet stuff is both voice activated and the firing controls and the emergency egress systems are thought controlled. Don't tell anyone sir, you know how techs are, they will want to take it apart and see how it works." she said meaning every word.
"This thing flies?" he said. He was still stuck on that.
"It flies." she repeated.
"Lets see how well." he said looking at the air lock.
"It's been sitting here for at least six fraking months. I doubt the fuel in the tanks is still good." she said reminding him that it was no Viper; it took the Solium based fuel that the Avenger (predecessor to the Viper, also a Star Hound class ship) took. It was designed for Trans-atmospheric use, both in and out of atmosphere, while the Viper was a space fighter adapted for planetary use. Albeit adapted WELL!

The launch of the CosmoHawk was uneventful, which in itself was a good thing. She had looked ominous in her black latex looking suit which was the custom built pressure suit. She wore the helmet from the pilots room to the aircraft, only because it was easier to get on standing, than it was sitting, and taking it off was easiest of all. She wore no laser pistol under her arm as she normally did in her Viper. The cockpit didn't allow such niceties. She could barely manage a small slug throwing pistol in her left boot.
The crew that had gathered in the flight bay was talking in whispers, as if sharing a secret amongst themselves. In effect they were. She had attached the harness to the egress module, as in this craft, the pilot did not eject themselves, the entire front of the craft separated, then the cockpit separated from that, then once the pilot was at an altitude (re-entry capable) where they could eject from the egress module, they could blow the canopy and bail out. In the event that that was not possible, or advisable, the pilot could activate the safe landing system, and the entire cockpit would parachute down.
The flight was different than she remembered. She didn't have the normal .97 gravity well of Virgon there to play with. Also, she was not able to let the CosmoHawk stretch its legs and cruise. Its super cruise would give it a very high thrust ratio in space, but not the thrust ratio of the Viper. It had two smaller engines, both designed to perform quietly and with very little heat. The Viper, conversely, had three giant engines and conserved no heat savings at all. It was the Freight train, to the CosmoHawk's Corvette.
She landed it with no bounces, like a mother putting her baby down to sleep. It was silent, and soft. As she rode the elevator down, inside the CosmoHawk, to the maintence level, she was still smiling. Screaming Mimi had flown like the eaglets she watched back home

The shower felt good on her back. The warmth of the water was like little fingers running down her shoulders. After hours in the cramped cockpit of the CosmoHawk, she felt so sore and stiff, that just standing up was a luxury. Still, she had bagged eleven Cylons before they realized they were being shot at. There's something. She smiled and laid her head back letting the water wash the hair off her forehead and face where sweat had stuck it. The tiny salt crystals washed down her face, stinging her eyes on the way down. She lathered shampoo and the smell took her back to Virgon...

Summers were temperate in Athena. The temperatures rarely rose above seventy five and rarely dropped below twenty in the winter. They had snow, for two months of the year, and rain for another three months, but the other seven months were pure bliss. Tabitha loved to weave flower wreaths and sell them at the farmers market as a little girl. Looking back, she knew that the people buying them didn't really want them; so much as they wanted to do something special for a girl trying to make money to pay for cheerleading uniforms.
Her parents would have happily bought them for her, her mother nearly insisted on that, but her daddy wanted her to know independence and to learn to rely on herself. "One day, Princess, you're going to have to depend on yourself alone. Nobody will be there to help you. When that day comes, you make your decisions, and you don't look back. Promise me you'll never look back." he said.
She felt her knees go out from under her and slid down the wall of the shower. Her body shook with tears. "Oh daddy, I left them! I left them to die, I didn't even try to fight!" she cried. She sat in the water, feeling it raining down on her like a summer rain back home. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth crying. "Oh God daddy, I killed them! How can I let that go? They should be here, not me." she let go of her knees and pressed her back to the shower wall and began slamming her head back against the wall till the water ran red under her. The pain had returned, it was good. She hurt, she deserved to hurt. She deserved to feel pain forever, she had killed them, killed them all and nothing was going to bring them back. She couldn't make the emptiness go away. Why didn't she shoot? Why did she have to live? Why can't she die?

The water had long turned cold before she cried herself to sleep. The spray was chilled and her soaked hair hung down in her face as she shivered. She woke with the feeling of deaths fingers running circles down her back. Tabitha looked up at the spray. Her hands shut off the shower and she stood, her head hurt, her body ached. Somehow it felt right.

Nightmares troubled her again. They always came, the faces of her squadron members. She saw many of them, hands pounding on the canopies, blood flowing from noses, ears, mouths, where their internal organs were exploding. They screamed to her for help. They pounded on the canopies till they died, the while time begging her to just shoot them. She felt sick. She hurried to the latrine and threw up. Did they mean kill the Cylons? Or did they want mercy from the pain of decompression? She didn't know. Neither was something they should have had to beg for. If she had just fought. If she had just put the damned fuse into the gun station instead of life support. She could have died with them, defending her friends, like her daddy did. Like her daddy did... like her daddy died...

She looked over at the little slug thrower pistol. Heaven... she held it softly, its cold steel, heavy in her little palms. Heaven, its right here in the palm of my hand... She chambered a round and flipped off the safety. It's waiting here for me...
She put the barrel in her mouth. Daddy forgive me... she pulled the trigger... click! She pulled it again. Click... suddenly the gun seemed vulgar to her. She threw it away like a snake. It was wrong. She had stood at the edge, looked down, and it wasn't her time. The round didn't fire. She threw up again and lay on the floor by the toilet crying. She had found the only bad round in a box of fifty shells. She didn't know if she was lucky or cursed. "Please daddy, help me... tell me what to do..." she cried. Daddy please, I'm so lost... I'm so scared." she was shaking visibly.

The flight line was so busy. She was lost in the shuffle of people, loading weapons, refueling, fixing damage... Nobody noticed her climb into Mimi. Nobody even noticed her close the canopy. Nobody had any idea that she was sitting there watching them, observing them. They were so different. They were... normal. They lived, they loved, and they were family. They were part of something she could never again be. She had killed her friends, let them die the worst kind of death, she didn't deserve the love and warmth of family. Her world was here, in the cramped space of Mimi's cockpit. This was her purgatory. This was her hell. She leaned back and made a fist, her nails digging into her palm till they broke the skin. The pain, her constant companion joined her in Mimi's little capsule. She was safer here. She leaned back. She slept... The nightmares were not so bad here. She almost got some rest... almost.

Hunger was the only thing that drove her from the cockpit. She left it only rarely, for bathroom breaks, eating, and when necessary, for pilots briefings. She had lost weight, maybe another twelve pounds, and was looking boney. The flight suit was feeling baggy. She knew she was not healthy, but if she died, wouldn't that make it all go away?

She sat at the end of the cafeteria table. It was darker here since she had accidentally-on purpose unscrewed the light bulb behind her. She liked the dark. She wasn't sure if it was real, or just her mind. She wasn't sure if it was just her going insane, or her need to go insane. She looked up from the cup of cocoa she was nursing and her father was standing before her. He was smiling. "Eat princess, you must live. You're very special, The Gods have a plan for you." he said. She felt her body go numb. She blinked a few times, tears trying to force their way past her eyes. She realized she was not breathing. She took a breath; another...
She closed her eyes for a second. When she looked up again, her father was no longer there, instead there was that creepy psycho guy in the maintence uniform standing over her. "Really, you can have my cinnamon roll; you look like you could use it. Really." he said offering her the roll.
Her hand shook as she took it. "Thank you..." she said so softly she wasn't sure she had even said it.
"Your special you know. The Gods have a plan for you. You have to take better care of yourself. Your day is not soon, but it will come." he said. She didn't understand that at all. He reached over and touched her hair. "Your hair is so soft. Its like an angels feathers. I'm sorry, I know it upsets you that I touch your hair." he let go of it. She swallowed a bite of the roll. It had a sleight cinnamon taste, but she could detect nutrient supplements in it.
"I need to be alone." she said almost apologizing.
"Yes you do, but you shouldn't be. You have people here who can help you. Why don't you let them?" he said. She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was all about. He didn't seem so weird, well, yeah, he was definitely strange, but he cared.
"No... you don't understand." she said.
"Oh I do, more than you know. You were chosen. You lived. You were meant to live you know. Your survival was no accident. You are the chosen one."
"I don't understand what your talking about." she said bitterly. He smiled, his smile was creepy, and oddly like a parent to a child. She got all sorts of weird vibes from him. He was dangerous, she could sense it.
"Your right... I am." he said. She felt ice run up and down her spine. Was he reading her mind? Or was she that transparent?"
"Go to your room, you'll sleep better, no more bad dreams. Soon, you will have no more bad dreams ever again. You'll see." he said. He touched her hair again and walked off. Tabitha finished the roll. As much as she hated to admit it, going to bed sounded good.

Lying in bed, just her tee shirt and underwear, she was warm, despite the cold. She was comfortable despite the lumpy mattress. She slept well; in fact, she didn't have any dreams at all. For the first time since the war started, Tabbicat was at peace.

She had washed the flight suit three times and it still smelled like sweat. She was washing it again. As she waited for it to dry, she picked through a copy of the Fleet news paper. She didn't recognize anyone in it. The faces were all somehow familiar, but she couldn't put names to them. She tried reading the stories, but they referred to stuff she didn't understand. She tried to understand, but it was all too confusing. Nothing in it mattered anyhow. She was going to die, they all were.
She pulled the flight suit out and pressed it. Tabitha wasn't sure why she bothered. Still, she did, and then slipped on the now loose fitting flight suit. It used to be nearly skin tight, always giving her a wedgie. Now it was a bit looser, more like a standard one, except it was shiny black and streamlined. There were no armor pieces or straps or buckles. She pulled the double diamond harness over it and then rolled them both down and tied them around her waist. She looked, for all practical purposes, like she was wearing a black tank top (middy cut) tee shirt, and a pair of black satin pants, tucked into what looked to be black high top sneakers. Her dog tags hung loosely outside her tee shirt. She went to the officer's mess and ate breakfast. It was powdered eggs and some burned toast. She declined coffee. She would commit suicide in some other less painful way than drinking the coffee here. Tabitha grinned at the thought... death by coffee. She laughed a bit, startling a few other pilots who had come to know her as the quiet girl in the corner who never talks or smiles. Today she waved to them as she left. They immediately started to chatter about her. Oh well, that's just how it goes.
Today she didn't feel like sitting in Mimi. She walked to a view port and sat with her back against the wall opposite it and watched the stars. She reached out with her hands and pretended to touch them. Maybe daddy had spoken to her. Maybe the weird guy was just saying what she knew in her heart her daddy would tell her. Maybe he didn't exist, which would explain why he looked so much like the boy from ninth grade Trig class who used to play with her hair when he sat behind her. She closed her eyes wondering why the hell the boy from ninth grade trig was talking to her on board Pegasus. Maybe because she needed someone to tell her it wasn't her fault. Maybe she wanted someone to tell her that she couldn't have stopped the Cylons even if she had tried. Maybe... Tabbi wasn't sure what she wanted.
She closed her eyes and imagined dancing among the stars. She was doing her Olympic floor routine out there. The stars would twirl around her like glitter, she would leap and tumble and they would follow her and wrap around her like in the tri-d cartoons. She giggled and hummed the music from her routine. It was so scary then. The crowd, thirty thousand people in the arena, another eleven million watching on tri-d. She had performed the best floor routine of her life. It had all come together for her. The music was perfect, the choreography was perfect, and she had never felt stronger, more capable in her life. She had scored near perfection. She had scored to win. She remembered taking the podium, standing tall as she could while the Virgonian anthem played. The gymnasts from Caprica, Tauron, Geminon, they were all expected to win that Olympics, but the secret weapon, the baby of the team from Virgon had led her team to victory. They had surprised everyone, even themselves. They had won the Olympic gymnastics gold medal for Virgon for the first time ever.

She stood and leaned against the portal. It was cold, but she liked that. She put her hand on the glass. Daddy was with her. He was always with her now. She was safe, no matter what. "Nobody hurts my princess!" he would say. She smiled. Yeah, she would die someday; they all would, but not today...

Over the last two months, several important modifications were made to the Stealth. The control surfaces were enlarged to accommodate lower pressure atmospheres, where, theory held; they would likely find the larger deposits of solinite. Problem was, as they built clones of her ATF, only a bit bigger for moderate sized pilots, but the fleet needed craft, and the stealth looked like it would fit the orders nicely. Tabitha had not had much chance to fly as a result. At first it was irritating, but it steadily became a routine, she would arrive at the pilots briefing room, check her flight status, have breakfast, then spend her day at the arbitorium or flight line.
Today she was just surfing the atmosphere above a little planet that looked rather pretty. The techs had gotten some good reports from the Raptors, but nothing fantastic. Still, it had no Cylon activity, so she and two other Cosmohawks were dispatched to check it out.
The two new C-Hawks were flying lower cover; she was top cover, in case Cylons attacked.

As she approached bingo, she was instructed to land the stealth and refuel on the ground at the ground base that the Galactica squadron had built up. It held two weak squadrons (under strength) of Vipers and three shuttles. They had found a planet that could feed the fleet if they could harvest enough food before the Cylons found them again.
Tabitha was more than willing; it would be nice to get her feet back on the ground. Being a gymnast, she was sensitive to movement and balance. Aboard ship, everything was moving; it was a constant sensory overload when Pegasus began making course corrections and changing up speeds. Most crew, in fact probably almost all of them, never felt a difference, but she felt them. Being on a planet would be welcome relief.
She brought the C-Hawk in and touched down in a nice single hop landing. The gravity was lighter here than Virgon, and her landing gear over compensated a bit, but she had to admit, she could have brought it in softer but she was rushing a tad.

The air smelled of apricots. She loved this planets air. She wished Virgon had had this scent throughout its atmosphere.
"Did you hear the news?" a crewman asked her as she rolled down the flight suit.
"News? No, I've been..." she pointed up. He got the point.
"They found a map of how to get to Earth... they know where to go now." he said happily. Tabitha considered the news.
"I don't suppose anyone has figured out that as soon as we set course for it, the Cylons will follow. We can never go there."
"Well, I'm sure Adama will figure out something." the tech said arguing more because he needed to believe than because he knew the situation.
"Oh yeah sure, I'm sure he will..." she couldn't have convinced anyone she meant that; it sounded as insincere as she felt. Yeah sure... they couldn't figure out how to lose the Cylons. "If they could, don't you think they would have done that a long time ago?" she asked herself. She knew that even if Earth DID exists, which she was sure it didn't, what good would running there do? If the people there had never fought the Cylons, which she had to believe they had not, then they wouldn't be ready to fight them now. So going there would only bring destruction to them as they had been destroyed back home. She couldn't imagine how they planned to get out of this one. They were all going to die and she knew it.

The debate lasted almost a month. During that time, every solution that could be offered was. Adama and The Council of 12, had at first argued, then agreed, then stayed in a state of flux, both knowing that the only solution to getting the Cylons from finding Earth, lay in the plans of their brave pilots. He had proposed only one solution. It demanded a high price.
"I'm not asking for volunteers." Adama said quietly, seriously. "This is not something that one volunteers for. This is something that I have no right to even propose, but I feel that you all deserve to know the possibilities and the consequences." he said. The seven pilots in the ready room nodded.
"A plan has been suggested that, if followed, could allow the fifty thousand survivors of mankind to reach Earth safely." he gripped the podium till his knuckles turned white. It is a fact that the Cylons can track the residual particalization of our FTL drives... he began to outline the problem and the solution...

Tabitha quietly considered the solution. Someone had to stay behind and tow some kind of radion ionisizer or something like that behind them to disperse the trail left behind by the fleet. The radion thingamabobber would basically sweep the ion stuff from the trail, like dragging a branch after yourself on a beach. There would be no defined trail, no sign of how much energy was used to jump to FTL. As a result, the Cylons could know what direction the fleet jumped, but not how far. So... since the residual radiation wasn't going to stick around long, the fleet could jump a distance unknown to the pilot left behind, stop, turn, and jump again. The Cylons would not be likely to find the trail left by the course change till long after the trail was dead. They would, in effect, lose them. It sounded great. Still, she looked at the others in the room. Who was going to be left behind?
Starbuck or Apollo were, of course fighting over who was going to stay behind. To her right three others were doing the same, all of them citing their flying experience and seniority. To her left another girl was sitting quietly probably thinking the same thing she was. This was a suicide mission. After the fleet left, they would have nowhere to land, nowhere to go. If they went to the planet, it was only a matter of time before the Cylons found them and killed them. If they flew on... there was nothing for parsecs in any direction that was inhabitable.
She stood up and cleared her throat. It was a noise unexpected by Adama and the others. They turned and looked. "I have something to say, I think it is very pertinent." she said hoping her voice didn't crack. "If we do this, there's only one craft that we can use, a Viper would be too obvious. We need the Cylons to be confused at first. If they pick up a Viper left behind, they will close in on the area the fleet was in. They might blow it up before it's completed its mission. The Cylons HAVE to be unconcerned about the ion field, so much so that they wait till they have recalled their pickets before they close in to trail the fleet." she said knowing that that fact was insinuated, but not spoken. She had guts, the guts to say what had to be said. "There are only three pilots who can fly the stealths. Only the stealths can do this mission." she swallowed, what came next was the hardest thing in the world to say. "I believe, that based on the fact that we only get one shot at this, and that the odds of this mission would be greatly enhanced by having the most experienced pilot do it, and that the fate of not only every member of the fleet, but every survivor of the human race, and those souls we have never met on Earth, all depend on this one desperate gamble... there is only one person who can do this mission." she looked at them all, silence piercing everyone there like a knife. "I will fly the mission." she said quietly. Adama lowered his head in prayer. Lee started to argue. "No, I'm the most senior pilot in the fleet, it is my responsibility..."
"Your son needs you sir. Besides, the fleet will need you more than ever when you reach Earth." Tabitha shouted over him. He looked stricken at her mention of Boxey. "I..." he couldn't find words.
"I will fly the mission... besides I don't believe in your fraking Earth feldercarb!" she said trying to sound, for all the world, like she meant every word of it. Again the room seemed somehow smaller. To the chosen few who were picked to attend the discussion, the air felt cold and thick. Sounds that would have gone unnoticed were suddenly loud and intrusive. Adama walked around the podium and hugged her. "I knew your father in the Cylon war. He was a good Warrior. I see his legacy has carried on in his daughter. Tales will be told of you, history will remember you, the girl who sacrificed herself for the future of all human kind." he kissed her on the forehead and hugged her again. "Ive thought of you as my own since the day you arrived aboard Galactica." he said finally letting her go.
"I won't fail you again sir." she said. Tabitha meant every word of that. Perhaps she had let her friends die in the initial attack, but now she was going to exorcise the demons and cleanse her soul of that memory. This was the only way she could ever let them go.

"Firing FTL in 3, 2, 1..." and that's the last she ever heard of the Fleet. Tabitha initiated a full burn till her tanks ran dry. The ion emitter scattered its radiation all over the wide path that the fleet passed through as it went to FTL. Tumbling at nearly Mach 7, end over end, the tail boom spinning her like a gyroscope, she closed her eyes. Somewhere out there the Cylons were recalling their picket ships and were making plans to close into the area the fleet had occupied. They would take ion samples and determine how far and in what direction the fleet had gone. Today, they would find particles scattered in a million directions, at different radiation levels. There would be no following the fleet. They were left behind, a foot note in mankind's history.
Tabitha took a deep breath as the lights went dim on her HUD. In a few minutes her air would become stale; the heat would begin to drop in her flight suit. After a half hour, the temperature would fall below freezing; the air in her life support system would become stale. After six hours the temperature would fall below what her body could tolerate, she would freeze to death. She would never know that, after three hours, the air would be fouled and she would slip into a deep coma, from which she would never recover. She would never feel the hand of death take her soul.

Planet Virgo
0450 GST D-Day -1

Maj. Eric Catlett had been restless for a day and a half. He couldn't put his finger on why. He sensed danger in the air, but everything seemed normal. He was tired, sure, but his duty shift was almost over. He had one more day to go, then he could go home. He hated being away, but he was a professional Marine Officer. His son and daughter were the most recent Catletts to serve the colonies in the military. The Catletts had been serving in the military since the founding of the first colony on Caprica.
He wiped the sweat off his brow with his cover. It was a cool morning, but already he was sweating. He was systematically checking the air defense guns and missile platforms. They were old and obsolete. The new stuff, all computer controlled was already deployed on the other colony worlds, but Virgon maintained a strict non-aggression posture and so they were reluctant to spend any more money on their small defense force. Major Catlett didn't mind. They really couldn't defend the entire planet if the Cylons wanted to invade. He doubted they could even slow them down, but they could hold key positions till the civilians were evacuated. That much, they at least, could do.
The guns looked solid; their two hundred and fifty five millimeter cannons were powerful and could reach as high as most bombers could fly. They could fling enough flak out there to walk from plane to plane on if they all fired at once. The SAM's on the other hand, they were rotting and didn't look too stable.
He spent the better part of the day going over the traverse gear for each gun. Someday he would love to have the electronic motor assisted guns; they moved faster and were computer aimed. But he doubted they would ever see Virgon. The other colonies loved their defense systems though. Maybe someday...
He ended up back in his office just after sun down. His son, Tori was waiting for him. He smiled when he saw Tori sitting at his desk. Tori was a Lt. now but he was still his baby boy.
"Tori, how ya doing son?"
"Good dad, where have you been sir?"
"The usual... checking the guns for the attack that will never happen hahha."
"You haven't heard the news?" Tori asked tossing a paper to his dad. Front page was the announcement of the retirement of the Battlestar Galactica. His dad had served aboard her for some time.
"They are running all us old coots out aren't they boy?"
"Yea, stupid bastards don't realize what they are doing. A young Warrior corps isn't such a good idea."
"Well, your always welcome to stay here and be my adjutant."
"Hope so, I turned down Fleet again. I don't think I will ever get another chance." Tori said like it was nothing to him. Eric lit a cigar and looked out the window. He knew that Tori was a great pilot, but no military man. He just loved flying fast toys. His daughter, now she was a hell of a pilot. She couldn't hit the broad side of a barn unless you pointed her at it, but there's no one gonna shoot her down either.
He sat on the sofa that he often slept on. "Tori, I hope your ok with that."
"Dad, you know I'm no officer. I take after mom. Tabitha is the Catlett legacy. Well, maybe Allison." he included his sister as well, but only to be kind. Little Allison was more likely to be a great triad player or something. She had Tabitha's beauty, but none of Tabitha's... girlishness... " he couldn't think of a good word to go there, in his head it was confusing, but he knew in his heart that they were two different people.
"Oh dad, the request for those advanced AAA guns came back. They approved them." he said showing Eric the forms.
"Well, looky here..." Eric grinned and laughed. "I just hope we get them soon, I cant put my finger on it boy, but everything inside me says that somethings in the air..."

0600 Planet Virgon

D-Day

Eric was still getting his morning reports back in order when he glanced at the Tri-D set. The screen was showing Caprica being attacked. He ran from his office, grabbing his flight gear from his locker and screaming for the Officer of The Day to start the alarms. Moments later the air-raid alert went off. The OOD began to call the flight members on the instant alert response list. They would each call three others, who would call three others themselves before reporting in. In a matter of twenty minutes, every member of the squadron would be alerted to the air-raid and be assembling.
He was jogging out to the flight line when he saw his son already starting up his own Viper and getting ready to fly. His XO, Captain Douglas Richtlin was half dressed running to his Viper as well. They exchanged looks and both finished dressing under the nose of one of the huge cargo transports. "What the hells going on skip?" the XO asked calling Eric skip, short for skipper, a Naval term officers in charge generally inherit with command.
"Caprica has been nuked Doug, were probably next." he said nervously. The alert officer on base, having been contacted by the OOD had alerted the civil defenses. They were already instructing people to report to the nearest shelters. "Damn I wish we had those new Vipers and better SAM's." Eric grumbled as he climbed into his Viper.
The take off was quick, and within one hour and fifteen minutes they had the squadron assembled over the city of Athena. He assumed that other Virgonian Defense Force squadrons were assembling as efficiently as the 301'st did, but he doubted it. When he saw the assault wave, he had the squadron form up on his fighter, he led them in straight and fast. "Ok kids, we don't have a second chance, we have to hit them hard fast and often. Don't think of it as being out numbered, think of it as having a WIDE shot selection." he joked. The pilots cheered, their bravado winning out over their terror at the moment. "Tally ho, good hunting boys!" he signaled for the pilots to break up into "loose deuce" teams. Two Vipers were always more than a match for several Cylon Raiders. These Cylon Raiders coming in, and he had to believe they were Cylons, looked nothing like the old ones.
The battle was confused, and not as long as it could have been. Initially they scored well against the Cylons. For some reason, the Raiders didn't seem to fight back, then after several attempts to flash some sort of laser like weapon, which had no effect on their old Mk3's the Cylons engaged them ship to ship.
Again the pilots of the 301'st Air Superiority Wing enjoyed success, as the Cylon Raiders didn't handle nearly as well in atmosphere as their Mk3's, which differed from the Mk2's with larger wings, set at a less sloped angle, a larger top fin, and more efficient thrust vectoring. In atmosphere, it was a remarkable Viper. Still, fuel ammo and numbers eventually caught up with the Colonials. Of the eighteen Vipers to launch from Athena VDF air station "Alamo", only seven returned from the initial wave. The base itself, as well as the city of Athena, sustained moderate damage, the antiquated AAA guns, courtesy of the civilian government being too cheap to buy the computer controlled interlinked ones that other colonies with large military forces bought, had defended better than expected. The Cylons, clearly, had not expected such stubborn resistance. Eric was refueling when he saw the first of many Cylon troop ships landing. He rallied his Warriors and they changed from flight gear to ground action gear. Those months and years of Special Forces like training that they complained about, were about to come in handy...

Meanwhile, in the present:

Pegasus had jumped with the fleet. Her pilots were ready, they were trained, and they too had a plan. When they left jump, they would launch and disburse into a wedge to protect the fleet. The stealths would launch just before to give them the time to get out in front of the faster Vipers.
Ensign Brandolyn Mercx wasn't thrilled about being in one of them. She just happened to be the right size.
"Sapphire to Phaedra, were almost in position, get ready for the Vipers to arrive." the flight leader flashed to her with the tight beam fiber optic light gun. She nodded. Sapphire was a hell of an officer. She was easily twice the pilot Phaedra was. Still, it didn't take skills to fly the stealth, it took courage. It took LOTS of courage to ride the stealth into battle. They had no advantages in battle except that you couldn't find them or lock onto them, but if you were good enough to stay on a stealths tail, you could go guns on it and destroy it easily. Of course, it was argued, nothing in the universe could turn inside the stealth. Phaedra wasn't convinced, but she was brave enough to test the theory.
The planet they were approaching was a beautiful blue green one with lights on its surface, proving that it had some form of intelligent life on it. Electronic noise was pulsing from it in waves, the sensors on the stealths were trying to adapt to the millions of signals. She, as well as Sapphire had to limit their interception to just what the Pegasus and Galactica decided were the military frequencies. The rest was static. She was so interested in the noise that she didn't even notice the Vipers had caught them. She looked up and saw lights, but these were from the planet itself...