Author's Notes: I've sorted out the details for the next couple of chapters, and things are going full steam ahead. Expect another update tomorrow!

Thanks for the reviews everyone.

Also, a continuity error has popped up in this story (that i can tell of anyway), for those of you who care. A couple of chapter ago, i wrote that the Galactica and fleet got suprised by Cylon Raiders sneaking up on them, and that Kara was in the blackbird and couldn't do anything except turn around and trynot to be noticed. Now, because of (SPOILERS FOR GALACTICA 2x11 and 2x12) said episodes, where the Blackbird has the ability to jump, this coudl have been avoided. And later, in keepingg with the show, i have the blackbird jumping to Earth here... so, contunity error. I don't really care, it's there, it serves a point, it's not changing.

Chapter 17 – Catalyst

One Day Later

Flight Lieutenant Samuel Johnson sat in the cockpit of his new Osprey class ship, with his new crew, and diplomats from Turkey who were on a mission to Paris, France, to discuss the recent assassination of Quinn Geraldini, a leading member of the 'Friendly Colonies' Faction of political leaders world wide. The PDO had decided to 'intervene' in the dealings, and had provided escort for the Turkish officials, and thus they supplied Turkey with an Osprey class shuttle and a Falcon squadron for escort.

They were half an hour out from French airspace when Johnson found himself staring out of the front window of the Osprey aircraft, his mind drifting back to the events that had landed him in the Triton's brig, facing charges of treason. He couldn't get her image out of his head, the image of Sharon Valerii; his weapons officer aboard the Osprey. She had been one of the 'them', one of the enemy; Cylon or a Zodacian (Colonial), it didn't really matter. She had been working for the enemy right from under their noses, and she'd killed Captain Organ, the navigation officer, and had set him up to take the blame for it.

What he couldn't get over was that there was another one out there which looked exactly like her. It had been the television broadcast of the captured enemy soldier, which looked exactly like Sharon Valerii, which had sprung her. If it wasn't for that broadcast, he'd probably still have her and Captain Organ as his crew, onboard their old Osprey. Instead, he was training two rookies, fresh out of an accelerated training program that the PDO had set-up. Some good it did too, they barely knew jack from shit.

Once he had revealed the presence of a hidden enemy base on the far side of the moon, he had been released from the Triton's brig and given a full official apology, and an attractive pay rise. He hadn't been promoted in rank, because he didn't want it. He didn't want to be a Squadron Leader, he didn't think he had what it took to be responsible for the lives of an entire squadron. They had reinstated him as an Osprey pilot, and had given him three and a half months off; this was his first mission back from vacation.

"We're approaching French airspace. French F-35 Joint Strike Fighters on approach for escort to Paris," the sensor/navigation officer said to Johnson. He looked down at the small, basic Radar screen that he had in front of him and saw the fighters on approach.

Red Falcon Flight Wing

Flying Officer Henry O'Connell was the leader of Red Wing, and today they had been put on the most backwards and boring mission that the PDO could muster up; escort duty. They were escorting an Osprey class shuttle which had Turkish diplomats within it to Paris for talks about the recent assassination of Quinn Geraldini. It would be a simple and relatively easy mission, he could have the fighter on auto-pilot for the majority of the trip, but it was boring. They weren't even leaving the atmosphere; not that every mission they undertook needed them in orbit, or beyond, but it still did thrill him to know that he could easily leave the Earth in a craft a little bigger than an average fighter plane. He looked out of the front of his cockpit and he could see Paris on the horizon; they were almost there. He needed to get out of the cockpit and stretch his legs a little. At the speed they were travelling, they were at the airport in no time at all. He had ordered his wing to begin landing before him, as the Osprey craft landed on the Heli-pad. He circled the airport, looking down at the military facilities that it possessed. He was surprised to find, from what he could see, that the PDO's facilities in Paris were less than what had been at the Turkish airbase from where they had come from. As his fighter circled, he was looking down at some Albatross bombers, which he could just make out from the height he was flying. It was then that all hell broke loose.

"Red Leader, this is Red Five, I'm on final approach to the tarmac and I've lost all control of my aircraft. I've got no control, weapons, thrust, navigation, anything, only my radio. The fight computer is saying that there's an active data uplink to Red Seven, over," Henry heard over the radio.

"Red Leader; Red Seven. Confirmed active data uplink. I am beginning to lose control of my fighter, over," he heard Red Seven say.

"Red Leader, Red Leader, this is Red Four. I've lost control of my aircraft. It's like it's controlling itself. I'm climbing," Red Four said frantically.

"Red Leader. Red Two. I have no such malfunctions with my craft, as of yet, over. Confirmed that Red Four, Five, and Seven are flying erratically, over," Red Two said. O'Connell and Samantha Jones were the only two surviving members from the original Red Wing, which fought in the opening battle with the Zoadiacians.

"Red Leader. Red Five. My fighter is climbing and turning away from the airport. I can not regain control, over," Red Five said.

"Red Squadron, close down all non-essential computer functions. Fly manually, and climb into a safe altitude for those who can, over," O'Connell replied. "What the hell is going on," he said to himself.

"Red Leader. Osprey 084. What the hell is going on?" he heard the communications officer say from the Osprey containing the Turkish officials.

"Osprey 084, Red Leader. Some of my wing has lost control of their aircraft and they seem to be piloting themselves, cause unknown, over," O'Connell replied.

"Red Leader, this is Red Four. My fighter is targeting the French F-35s. I can not disable the weapons or veer off course, over," he heard over the radio. He pulled back on his stick and rolled the craft around so he could see the majority of his wing. He looked down to the radar screen and located Red Four, according to their IFF signature. He looked out of the cockpit, and in the distance he could see a craft flying almost vertically upwards, followed by another.

"This is Alpha Leader to Red Leader. What is going on, your fighters are targeting mine and flying very aggressively, over," he heard over the radio. He was about to reply when all the power drained out of his ship, shutting down the engines, radar screen, and all of his control.

"What the hell," he said to himself. "Alpha Leader, Red Leader. We have lost control of our ships due to unknown reasons, and they appear to be flying themselves, over," he said. He just heard a string of words that he couldn't understand, guessing that they were in French. Moments later, power returned to his craft and he could hear and feel the engines ignighting again. He grabbed the stick and pulled back on it, to get himself out of the nosedive that his ship had started to take, but nothing happened. "Red Leader to Red Squadron, I have lost control of my ship, over." He fought with the controls, but the Falcon wouldn't do anything. He was racing towards the ground, when suddenly the fighter pulled up and veered off, the G-Forces almost crushing him in his seat.

"Oh my God, my ship's firing at the French," he heard a voice say over the radio. He saw a flash out of the corner of his vision and quickly turned his head to see the picture of a French F-35 blowing up in a ball of fire, rail-gun rounds streaking past it. A light suddenly started flashing on his dashboard, and he could see that it meant that there was a missile lock on. Moments later, the rear sensors in the craft alerted him that a missile had been fired towards his craft, and he was guessing that it was an F-35. He had lost track of the radio communications ages ago, words being shouted both ways, in a couple of different languages.

"Red Leader to French F-35s. Break off and try to make a run for it. I repeat, break off and make a run for it. We do not have control of our fighters. We do not have control of our fighters, over," O'Connell said into the radio. There was a reply, but it wasn't understandable. Suddenly, he jerked forward in his harnessing as the fighter rapidly decelerated and banked right, avoiding the missile. His Falcon was almost at stalling point, and he watched as the missile overshot the craft. His nose automatically came up, and ammunition started pouring out of the twin-rail guns on his craft, destroying the missile eventually.

All of the French F-35's had been destroyed, and any other aircraft they had tried to launch had been shredded to pieces with rail-gun rounds before they could get off the ground. His entire wing of eight fighters had effectively taken out more than thirty aircraft. The ships had piloted themselves, denying control to their pilots. The flying style was unique, like nothing he had ever seen before. There were tactics that the Falcon fighters had used, which he had never dreamed of; basically because there had never been a fighter capable of such things until now. A number of ground facilities had been attacked and sprayed with rail-gun rounds, which had probably travelled right through the facilities.

They were now cruising at five-thousand metres, and O'Connell was starting to panic. He had already tried the eject lever, but nothing had happened. He wasn't in control of his fighter, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had never had such a feeling of helplessness in his entire life time.

His onboard computer beeped at him, and he looked down to the radar screen to see seven more contacts approaching them. It was then that his craft was rocked and he was frightened out of his mind as a loud bang occurred next to his fighter. He looked to where the sound had originated, and could see a small cloud of black smoke dissipating. Another bang rocked his ship again, and immediately it started to climb upwards, and O'Connell realised that they were being fired upon by anti-aircraft guns. He was thrust backwards in his seat as the large engine on the back of the craft kicked in, and he realised that they were going to head into orbit.

He watched the radar display as they raced higher and higher into the atmosphere, and he could see a large number of contacts in orbit, most of them satellites. He had a hard time discriminating the satellites out, but he could see that there was at least two Falcon wings heading straight towards them.

"Red Leader, this is Orange Leader. Safely exit the atmosphere and stand down. Repeat, safely exit the atmosphere and stand down," he heard over the Radio. He winced as there was no response from the craft. He could see that the sky in front of him was turning darker and darker, and soon enough, they were in orbit.

"Red Leader. Triton command. Stand down, or we will be forced to take action, repeat, stand down or we will be forced to take action," the voice said over the radio. Henry looked down at his radar screen and could see that the Triton was waiting for them only a couple of thousand kilometres away, and that more fighters were launching from it.

"Red Leader. Red Eight. My fighter's computer systems have shut down…." He heard over the radio. "My velocity is decreasing and I am drifting back down to Earth. Trying to manually reboot the computers, over," Red Eight said. Moments went by until O'Connell heard from Red eight again; "Red Leader. I now have control of the craft, repeat, I now have control of the Falcon. Powering up engines and proceeding to an escape velocity, over," Red Eight said.

"Red Leader, Red Three. I now have control of my craft, over," Red Three said. It was then that Henry's craft completely shut down. He tried to manually reboot the computers, as Red Eight had done. The computer systems came back online, and Henry managed to regain control of the aircraft. Right in time to be head to head with two other Falcon aircraft, and a Tiger stealth fighter.

Poseidon Class Ship Solaris – Sol. System

Commander Galtua was sitting in the briefing room looking over the reports of their last mission to the closest star system in the direction of the constellation of Capricorn. A number of times they had seen an unidentified contact on their radar systems, but it was only moments before it disappeared again. They had guessed that it was either a piece of space debris, which was only being picked up by radar once it had an adequate profile, or that it was an enemy contact which was trying to hide from them. Either way, the contact didn't bother them and neither did they. Well, they had tried anyway; the Falcon wings had been dispatched and had tried to trace the contact down, but had failed. Apart from that, nothing else too exciting had occurred on the mission, except being able to witness the Adriatic's FTL drive in action. The Earth people aboard the ship had said that, as far as they could tell, the trip had been instantaneous. What had taken the Soperta, Solaria and Chu-Jung days to travel, the Zoadician Adriatic had done within seconds.

Apart from iron, methane and hydrogen sulphide, the only resident planet in the system didn't possess any valuable resources from what they could tell, and there was no conceivable way to terraform the planet; that they could see yet. They were hoping for a planet like Mars, another planet on which the theories of terraforming could be tested on, but they had travelled to the system in vain.

Commander Galtua heard a knock on her door and invited the person in. She looked up to see Dr. Bruce Miller of the PDO and personal friend at the door.

"Come in, come in. I knew that you were coming to see me, I just thought that it wouldn't be so soon," Galtua said.

"Thankyou for seeing me anyway. I'm afraid I'm here more on business than pleasure," Miller replied. Galtua motioned for him to have a seat, and then she moved around behind her desk and took her seat.

"How are you holding up since the funeral?" Galtua could hear herself asking, referring to the funeral of Ivan Wotresser, who was killed upon the research vessel Copenhagen. Wotresser was Miller's nephew, and had been a close friend to Galtua herself.

"I'm alright. I didn't know him too well, you know? Amanda's a wreck, after losing her husband, and then her son only a couple of years later," Miller replied. The pair sat there in silence, Miller remembering the last time she had seen Amanda Wotresser, and Galtua imagining how she must have been holding up.

"You said you were here on business?" Galtua probed after a few long moments. She watched as Bruce cleared his throat had looked at her.

"I need a favour. A very big favour, which could get you in a lot of trouble," Miller said straightly to her across the desk.

"What do you need of me?" Galtua asked him.

"Things aren't looking too good at the PDO and IAO right now and their stance towards these people of the Twelve Tribes. They're convinced that it was them that attacked us, but I have clear evidence that shows that it was another race. I have accounts from every member aboard the Adriatic, who all cleared a polygraph test, that it was not them who attacked us, but rather their enemy," Miller started. Galtua just sat there and listened, waiting to hear where this was going. "I need you to look out for the people aboard that ship Heidi," Miller said. "And any other ships like theirs that you stumble across. I need you to prevent them from being destroyed… unless they fire the first shot of course," Miller explained. Galtua could feel herself nodding her head slowly.

"Why?" she said after a few moments.

"Because they're not the same people who attacked us. They're a different race. They're enemies of our attackers…" he started. "They obviously are more technologically advanced than us, just look at the Adriatic's hyperdrive system. There's no way in the world that we'd be able to create that, or even reverse engineer one. We've looked at it, and we don't know what we're doing," he said. There were a couple of moments pause before he continued. "Most of all, if we attack them without knowing who they are, and they would be a potential ally, then we've started a war with two space-faring races, and we can't survive that," Miller said.

"It's done," Galtua replied.

Triton class ship Triton – Earth Orbit.

She tried to look over the heads of the people in front of her, as they were all crammed in the hangar bay trying to see what had happened. All that anyone knew was that the order had come out for the Triton's Falcons to escort a wing of hostile Falcon fighters aboard which were attempting to leave Earth's atmosphere. That's what most people knew, but she knew better. Those Falcons had just attacked Paris's airport under remote control, and the authorities were pissed. She had just received an upload minutes ago, informing her of her new mission and objectives once the fighters were aboard. Number Six pushed her way through the thin crowd until she was face to face with a marine who was holding everyone away from the craft once the airlock had been closed. She held up her toolkit and said that she was one of the techies, and he let her through. Luckily for her, she was positioned aboard the Triton as a techie and it wasn't actually a lie. She was told to wait by another marine as the pilots were handcuffed and taken out of the hangar bay.

She walked up to the first Falcon fighter and climbed into the cockpit. She reached under the front and felt around on the back of one of the Earth's computers until she found the plug that she was looking for. She then followed it up to the device, the cylon device, which had all of the Falcon's computer systems networked through it and had been planted by a number eleven model, Simon Walker in turkey. It had been plain luck that the Falcon fighters had landed in the Triton, or any other airbase where a Cylon agent was posted, there were only a select few around the planet, but they had backup plans just in case that the rogue Falcon wing had been escorted somewhere else. The events which took place today were meant to be the beginning of a chain reaction of tests, of which the result would determine the fate of humanity. They had started the chain reaction themselves, today's actions by the Cylons were only to act as a catalyst to speed up the process. Nita Davidson put the device into her toolbox, got out of the cockpit and moved onto the next Falcon.

Authors Notes: If you're wondering where Dr. Wotresser and The Pegasus, Rycon and Cerebus are, don't worry, they'll pop up sooner or later. Also, no 'Galactica' part in this chapter… honestly I forgot and haven't been able to think of a bit to do about it. Each chapter from here until Galactica meet earth is meant to have a little 'monologue', or at least, delve deep into the thoughts of one of the crew members of Galactica (ie, the bit with Helo 2 chapters or so ago, and then with Apollo), after all, it is a character driven show.