Battlestar Galactica 2003 is a copyright of the Sci Fi Channel. Battlestar Galactica is a trademark and copyright of Universal Studios. Ron Moore re-imagined Glen A. Larson's original idea; but then again, most people who would be reading this already know that. My use is in no way intended to challenge or infringe upon any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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Author's Note: Thanks to Elentari2 for beta duties on the third scene. She's a great one to ask when I'm wondering if what I wrote made any kind sense whatsoever.

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XI – Need to Know

"Mr. President," Adama said with a perfunctory nod.

"Admiral," Baltar replied with a nod of his own. "Interesting place for a meeting," Baltar commented with a glance around the Raptor. The only other person onboard was Racetrack, freshly off her reassignment to head the presidential transport detail, and she was conspicuously disinterested in the conversation.

"Things being what they are, I didn't want anyone to know we were meeting," Adama admitted. Things being what they are, he thought with amusement. No doubt Baltar thinks I'm referring to his political problems, while all I can think about is the infinite number of ways my operation could still get fouled up.

"So why all the secrecy?" the president asked.

"It's because of the topic of discussion," Adama said, deciding to get right to the heart of the matter. Their cover story was that Baltar was indulging in the pomp of the office by making his first presidential review of one of the warships – in this case, the recently dragooned Aether. Adama had ordered the Aether as far away from Colonial One as possible, but he still knew he had only a matter of minutes to say all that needed to be said.

"And what is the topic, Admiral?"

"I'm planning to launch a military operation," Adama said.

"A military operation," Baltar repeated. "You mean an attack."

"Yes."

"Where? Against what?"

"That's classified," Adama said, ignoring his brief amusement at the dumbfounded look on Baltar's face.

"Classified?" Baltar asked. "I'm the president."

"Yes, you are," Adama agreed.

"I expect to be filled in, Admiral."

"This is a military operation conducted by military personnel," Adama explained. "Tactics were never within the purview of the civilian government."

"But strategy was," Baltar responded curtly. "If I decide on a strategy of steady retreat, then you have no business organizing tactical offensive battle plans."

"The decision of whether to attack is a military decision, Mr. President."

"And unless you're planning on taking the entire fleet with you, your attack involves leaving the civilian ships defenseless."

"That's correct."

"Given that the entire human population lives on these unarmed ships, I think your decision to abandon them to satisfy your lust for combat makes this rather more than a simple military decision."

"My lust for combat," Adama grumbled angrily, unconcerned with the possibility of offending the president with his attitude. "Is that what I've been serving by retreating all these months? Is it my lust for combat that made me run away from the Colonies with my tail tucked firmly between my legs?" He watched the president closely for any non-verbal clue to the man's thoughts, surprised at how quickly Baltar withered under his stare.

"Perhaps my words could have been chosen better," Baltar relented.

"Perhaps."

"What's the target?" Baltar asked, wringing his hands nervously as he tried to regain some semblance of authority in the conversation.

"New type of cylon ship," Adama explained, trying to keep the details to himself. "We're still figuring out the specifics, actually."

"Is this a preemptive strike, Admiral?"

"You're asking whether we could avoid this battle," Adama surmised.

"As I explained, I'm not comfortable with leaving the vast majority of our remaining population defenseless during your attack," Baltar said.. "And that's assuming you win, survive, and make it back to us. There's still the possibility that Galactica could be destroyed."

"I wouldn't risk it if I wasn't completely confident." Adama focused his efforts on keeping his face an unreadable mask; he hated to admit it, but he was impressed at Baltar's ability to rebound from his anxious insecurity and take a more aggressive posture in their exchange.

"But you can't guarantee victory, can you?"

"No," Adama admitted. "It's going to be a battle, Mr. President. Anything could happen."

"So you see my position."

"Of course," Adama said. He had hoped to avoid this, but he saw now that there was no other alternative. It's all or nothing, he decided. "I see your current position quite well."

"Meaning?" the president asked, catching Adama's implication that he was open to discussing more than just military matters.

"You've been having problems with the Quorum," Adama responded, rubbing his eyes wearily so that he wouldn't have to look Baltar in the eye as he made his offer. "I might be able to help relieve some of the tension."

"I'm listening," Baltar said.

"You let me conduct my operation, and when the shooting's done, I'll come back and do everything I can to help you put an end to Zarek's games." Once he was done speaking, he finally settled an unnerving stare on the president.

"Interesting," Baltar commented, this time holding up far better under the admiral's gaze. "There are a great many people who respect you, Admiral, who have a great deal of faith in you. You can count me one of them. I simply hope this operation is successful enough to justify that faith."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Adama said. "My people will get it done."

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"Deacon, sit down," Tom Zarek said, motioning to the leather chair in front of his desk. The young man made himself comfortable as Zarek looked him over. He's still hungry to prove himself, he noted, satisfied that Deacon was not one of those men who settled for making a good first impression. He's in it for the long haul, just like I need him to be.

"What do you need?" Deaq asked.

"I need you to watch someone for me."

"That's it?" Deaq looked surprised that the request was so simple.

"This isn't any ordinary person," Zarek assured him. "I need you to watch Ellen Tigh."

"Colonel Tigh's wife."

"Yes," Zarek confirmed. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all."

"She's almost always in public places, and any soldiers in the room have a way of noticing her and keeping their eyes on her," Zarek explained. "The colonel made it perfectly clear that he was not pleased with her ending up in the middle of a hostage crisis, and everyone's looking for a way to advance his career by being the first one to save Ellen from harm."

"I understand," Deaq said. "I have to be one of many people watching her, and I have to make sure that I remain unobserved by Ellen and by all of the people watching out for her."

"Exactly."

"Is there anything in particular that I'm watching for?"

"I want to know who she meets with," Zarek said, thinking back on the message he'd intercepted from Major Rutger. "If possible, I want you to find out what she's doing, and I want to know if she's not sharing everything she finds out."

"You think she's holding out on you?"

"I have concerns," Zarek admitted. Since getting off of the Astral Queen, Zarek had accrued power not only through providing favors and doling out the occasional helping of violence, but by amassing a large network of informants. As always, information was power, and he made a point of knowing more than anyone else. Having Ellen Tigh keep things from not only weakened his position, but also increased the likelihood that Ellen would be able to start developing an agenda of her own. Zarek had always accepted that Ellen liked to play games of her own choosing, and he had always tolerated her diversions in exchange for the information she provided, but that arrangement had been made under the assumption that her schemes would never affect his. And now I can't be sure.

"And if you can't trust her?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Zarek answered noncommittally. "Keep in mind that she's the XO's wife. I don't want you getting any ideas about taking some initiative. You're only to watch her – nothing else."

"I understand," Deaq assured him. "But if it turns out that she's playing you?"

"Then more may be expected of you," Zarek said. "But like I told you – we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

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"At ease," Starbuck said, noting that her words only seemed to increase the tension in the briefing room. She didn't need to turn around and look at the tactical photos posted to the wall behind her to remind herself why everyone in front of her was on edge. This is it, she told herself. This isn't a desperate scavenging mission at an abandoned Colonial weapons cache, or a raid on a small-scale cylon fuel depot. This is an all-out tactical assault, the Galactica leading two support ships and all of its Vipers into combat. A lot of these pilots were civilians the last time we were in a pitched battle against the cylons… no way to know how they'll react.

Despite her best intentions, she found herself staring at the empty chair in the middle of the front row. The seat for the highest-ranking pilot after the CAG. The pilots had kept the seat vacant since Apollo's death. It's not like we can't afford an empty seat here and there, anyway, Starbuck admitted silently, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, trying not to think about how much faster it would be to count the full seats than the empty ones.

"Viper pilots are heading down to the flight deck as soon as we're done here," Starbuck explained, "so that any cylon spies won't have time to figure out what we're doing and get some kind of warning to their comrades. Raptor pilots will make a short stop for an additional briefing with Colonel Tigh and Major Rutger. We'll all launch within the hour."

"What is that?" Kat asked, predictably the first one to break protocol. She was pointing toward the tactical photos of what Sharon had labeled the Resurrection Ship, and Starbuck silently thanked the gods that Kat's question helped her get right into the nuts and bolts of the pre-op briefing.

"That's our primary target," Starbuck answered. "Our intelligence indicates that that ship is the cylons' greatest asset out here. It's what they call a Resurrection Ship, and it helps keep them alive. It and its escort are currently in geo-synchronous orbit around a planet we've designated LV-426."

"How does it keep them alive?" Kat asked.

"You've probably all heard the rumors that the cylons can download their consciousnesses from a destroyed body into a new one, and that rumor is true," Starbuck replied, unable to stifle an inappropriate grin as the admiral entered the back of the room, a proud smile spread across his face as he gestured her to continue as if wasn't there. "This far from the Colonies and their own home bases, they can't download unless they have a specially designed and equipped ship; this is that ship.

"From what we've been able to learn – we take this out, and the cylons stop getting extra lives. We take this out, and the cylons start dying for good."

"Just like us," Hotdog said.

"Yeah," Starbuck agreed, trying not to dwell on the fact that some of the faces in front of her wouldn't be there the next time they had a briefing. "But this operation is far more complicated than just destroying that ship," Starbuck continued.

She turned and looked over the array of photos on the wall. "The Resurrection Ship doesn't appear to be heavily armed or armored, but it has an escort. It's orbiting what appears to be a cylon outpost and weapons cache on the planet below. Getting photos of the planet surface was tough, but after looking over what we have, we guess there are four squadrons of cylon raiders planetside." She pointed at two large hangars on the surface that they presumed housed the cylon fighters.

Starbuck took a deep breath before she added the last part. "In addition, there are four basestars."

"What?" Kat asked, an incredulous sigh escaping her chest as she stared in stunned disbelief. "The Galactica against four basestars, a cylon outpost, and whatever defenses that Resurrection Ship has?"

"Yes." Starbuck looked over her pilots and knew that while Kat was alone in expressing surprise and uncertainty, she was definitely not alone in her sentiments.

"So what's the plan?" Ares asked from his customary seat in the back row. His voice was calm and professional; he seemed as unconcerned with the coming attack as he likely would be if Starbuck had instead announced the pilots were going to repaint the flight deck.

"Right," Starbuck said, smiling as practically every pilot in the room turned around to look at Ares like he was crazy. "The plan is relatively simple," she explained. "We're dividing our Vipers into two strike forces – red and gold. I'll head gold squadron; Catman, you have red."

"Right," Catman said.

"Gold squadron will fly into the planet's atmosphere and give cover to the Raptors and cargo shuttles that'll fly marines down to the surface."

"Why are we using troops?" Kat asked.

"We're hoping to use the confusion as cover to grab some supplies from the weapons cache on the planet," Starbuck explained. She didn't bother to mention that the supplies included two-dozen nuclear warheads. "There'll be six of us in gold squadron. The rest of you will stay up above to give Galactica as much cover as you can."

"We don't even know how many raiders each of those basestars carries," Kat pointed out. "How long do we have to last to get the mission completed?"

"Unknown," Starbuck answered curtly, though she also grinned slightly when she realized that Kat had obviously resigned herself to the situation and was looking for a way to get the job done. "But what we do know is that the basestars themselves are extremely lightly armed compared to a battlestar. They have missiles for long-range combat, but they rely on their raiders for short-range defense. If Galactica gets close, it'll tear the cylons to pieces with its KEW cannons and short-range weapons."

"But it has to get that close," Kat commented. "How, exactly, are we supposed to pull this off?"

"Listen up," Starbuck snapped, "because we don't have time to go over this twice. We've already considered the possibilities and our tactics. The basic plan is simple – Galactica jumps in and launches its ships. Gold squadron and the transports will go to the surface. Red squadron will stay close, taking up a purely defensive posture.

"Now Kat," Starbuck said, staring down the other pilot, "you'll have jumped into the area first in the Blackbird."

"I'm gonna do what!" Kat asked with wide eyes, clearly shocked that she'd been singled out for something important. And potentially suicidal.

"A good deal of our attack depends on you, so pay attention," Starbuck said, trying not to focus on the fact that if Apollo were still alive, he would be leading the Vipers and if would be Kara, not Kat, who would be flying the Blackbird. "We expect that the Resurrection Ship will jump out as soon as Galactica arrives, and obviously we don't want that to happen. So one of your objectives is to frag the FTL drives," Starbuck explained, pointing to several targets on the Resurrection Ship.

"One of my objectives?" Kat asked.

"Before you do that, we need you to drop a signal beacon," Starbuck answered. "It's been specially designed for this mission – one single, high-energy pulse that Galactica can use as a target for a jump."

"Got it," Kat responded with a nod, and Starbuck was surprised to see that she did.

But not everyone does, she reminded herself, knowing she would have to spell it out for the others. "Like I already explained, the basestars are vulnerable in short-range combat, but they can pummel the Galactica from long-range. The signal beacon will allow the Galactica to jump in as close as possible. Without it, she'd jump in and start getting nuked, and even if Galactica somehow survived that, the Vipers flying around her would be vaporized. The only way this works is if we jump in as close to gun-range as possible. Understand?" she asked the pilots, hoping they were starting to realize that the attack might not be as crazy as they'd first thought.

"Now, like I said, Kat, you'll be taking out the Resurrection Ship's FTL drive as soon as Galactica jumps in," Starbuck said, once again focusing her attention on Kat. "That'll be the end of your responsibilities. The Galactica and our Vipers can take care of the rest, so don't get heroic. Just do your job and get out of there."

"Got it," Kat said.

"Because the Blackbird is rigged for silent running – our pilots aren't going to be able to see you any better than the cylons will, so you'll have to watch out for friendly fire."

"And you're sure the cylons won't see me?" Kat asked.

"How do you think we got all this tactical info?" Starbuck responded with a devilish grin.

"Cool," Kat muttered.

"Now for the rest of you, this is important – the third and fourth basestars are orbiting on the other side of the planet, making sure no one can jump in unseen on the opposite side of the planet and get the drop on the cylons. We figure it'll take between three and seven minutes for the other ships to join the fight. One of them has been in combat and has extensive damage, but we believe it's at least partially capable of combat operations; the other one, of course, is fully prepared for battle. The first two battlestars have to be destroyed or neutralized before the other basestars join the fight; otherwise, there's no way the Galactica will be able to hold them off. With the numbers we're facing, it won't take long to go from wrong to catastrophic, so we all have to be as close to perfect as we can be."

"What do you mean, neutralized?" Catman asked. "How do you neutralize a basestar?"

"New weapons technology," Starbuck answered. "I doubt anyone on the ship hasn't heard about Dr. Drake, the engineer who's been interrogating Sharon Valerii. Drake is a weapons designer, and he cooked up a weapon that should disable the cylon ships; unfortunately, like the kinetic weapon cannons, they're short-range weapons. What they lack in range they make up for with target area – it's a wide dispersion weapon, so we'll be able to hit the basestars and their raiders."

"If we get close enough," Catman commented.

"Yeah, if we get close enough," Starbuck confirmed, giving a sideways glance to Kat to remind her once again, as if she needed it, of the huge role she was playing. "We constructed four large prototype cannons on the Archimedes," Starbuck continued. "The Galactica is being fit with two them, one fore and one aft, as we speak. The Myrmidon and the Aether are each getting one of the others. The two support ships are due to jump in once the basestars have committed to battle with Galactica. The idea is to get them pinned in the planet's gravity well, and then pound them with our ships. Simple hammer and anvil maneuver."

"And the other basestars?" Catman asked.

"Like I said, the first two have to be either destroyed or neutralized by the time the other two get a firing solution on the Galactica," Starbuck answered. They'd considered countless alternatives while planning the operation, from keeping the Resurrection Ship intact but crippled and using that as a shield, to opening up the battle with a full salvo of every nuke Galactica had left in its stores, and they kept coming back to one simple fact – they had too few resources to get creative. Just take out what we can, and hope we do it fast enough, she remembered the admiral saying as she, Tigh, and Ares kept proposing alternate strategies.

"Well, assuming we get the first two destroyed before the second two get us in their sights, what do we plan to do?" Catman asked, pressing the issue.

"That's going to be a straight-up fight," Starbuck answered, trying not to grimace as she said the words. "The Galactica, Myrmidon, and Aether against one-and-a-half basestars." She knew Catman's concerns – she had the same ones, herself – but she trusted the admiral when he said he had an ace up his sleeve, and that the situation wasn't as dire as it appeared. He wouldn't go into a battle like this unless he knew he could win, Starbuck assured herself, consciously avoiding any of the thoughts she'd had that maybe grief over the loss of Lee was causing the Old Man to get careless, or even reckless.

A collective groan rose from the pilots, and that was when the admiral strode to the front of the room. "Stow it," he growled, glaring at each of the suddenly respectful – and fairly intimidated – faces in front of him. "We have a mission to do, and every man, woman, and child in this fleet needs us to do our best. As long as we do that, and as long as we stick to the plan, we can get this done. Of that, I assure you."

"Yes sir," Ares said from the back, rising from his chair and snapping the admiral a salute.

Kat was next on her feet, Catman only a blink of an eye slower. Within seconds everyone in the briefing room was standing, each one of them a statue, frozen in mid-salute.

"As you were," Adama said, turning on his heel and striding toward the door. "I'll be in C.I.C.," he called out to Starbuck, who could only stand and marvel at the unquestioning loyalty and admiration the admiral commanded from his troops.

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"Do they look nervous to you?" Starbuck asked Colonel Tigh, surprised that she was turning to him for an opinion. Maybe Ares struck a nerve when he compared me and Tigh.

"Yeah," Tigh grumbled. "Better get them into their Vipers before they piss themselves."

"Huh?" Starbuck asked incredulously, turning to stare at the XO. She'd heard him make many off-color, inappropriate comments over the years, but never to her. They were always at or about me, not to me.

"They'll be fine once we make the jump and you launch," Tigh assured her.

"Yeah," Starbuck agreed, suddenly realizing that she had her own nerves to start dealing with. I'm the CAG by default, she reminded herself. I'm not some grizzled veteran who's done this a hundred times. Tigh and the Old Man are the only ones who qualify for that distinction. Other than Ragnar and Chiron, I haven't been in more than three battles that didn't involve launching as one of the alert fighters. It's different when you have time to sit around thinking about what you're getting yourself into.

"You'll be fine, too," Tigh commented, almost as if he could suddenly read her mind.

"Yeah," Starbuck muttered. "So the admiral send you down here to see us off?"

"That's the story," Tigh responded. "Fact is that there's a problem with the cylon prisoner."

"Sharon?"

Tigh nodded, clearly disappointed that Starbuck had taken to calling the cylon by name.

"What's wrong?"

"She was just transferred to medical," Tigh said. "She started to hemorrhage."

"You tell Helo?"

"No," Tigh answered. "The admiral is leaving that up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Pilots, ECO's, and marines are loading up," Tigh said. "Galactica's about five minutes away from our jump, and then we're going in. The Old Man said it's your call – can you do without Helo?"

"Frak," Starbuck hissed. "How bad's the situation?"

"Don't know for sure, but Cottle said he may have to deliver the… baby," he spat, uncomfortable with the word he was forced to use.

"Frak," Starbuck repeated. She looked across the deck and caught sight of Helo right away, badly bruised face and all, running his hand along the wing of his Raptor, clearly thrilled by his promotion to pilot. We're in dire enough straits to turn our veteran ECO's into rookie pilots, and then replace them with anyone who has computer experience. Frak… "No," Starbuck decided. "We're prepping to launch; it's too late to tell him. With any luck, he'll land to find a child waiting for him."

"Uh-huh," Tigh responded, still unhappy with Starbuck's thoughts regarding Sharon and Helo's baby.

"That all, Sir?"

"No," Tigh said. He looked Starbuck up and down, and a thin smile crossed his lips. "You've done a good job planning this," he told her, extending his hand.

"Thank you," Starbuck said, finding herself shaking Tigh's hand before she really knew what she was doing. It's almost surreal.

"Don't be surprised by anything you see out there," Tigh advised her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I told you," Tigh said. "The Old Man's not out of tricks yet; expect the unexpected."

"Umm… okay," Starbuck said, slowly walking away from Tigh and toward her Viper. She made eye contact with as many of her pilots as she could, giving a thumbs-up or a supportive nod wherever she thought it necessary. She tried not to feel guilty when she saw Helo wave to her from the pilot's seat in his Raptor, and then she finally climbed up the ladder to her own Viper.

"Here we go," she muttered to herself, her hand closing over the lighter that the admiral had lent to her. "Showtime."

To be continued……………………………