Kaset e vin diouzh e alan
I will be pulled away by its breath

Pell gant ar red, hervez 'deus c'hoant
Far away by its stream, wherever it wishes

Hervez 'deus c'hoant pell eus ar bed
Wherever it wants, far away from this world

Etre ar mor hag ar stered
Between the sea and the stars

-'Gortoz a Ran',

Black Hawk Down Theme

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Contact

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Honestly…

Baltar took a swipe of wipes and he cleaned the rim of the toilet until it had been cleaned of all gross human liquids and grime. The last person obviously did not wipe after himself.

Down went his pants, and down went his ass on the toilet. And so began to—

Actually, Baltar just reminded himself. If anyone ever started to write about a man (or a woman) doing his (or her) business on the toilet in such discrete detail, the readers would be disgusted.

Mental note: never write about dirty business in the toilets.

After Baltar was finished with his business and all the tidying of himself, he pulled his pants up, cleaned after himself, and then vacated the stall and shifted towards the sink. On went the faucet, and so Dr. Baltar proceeded to clean his hands. He looked up into the mirror in front of him and looked at himself.

He grinned. I guess I am such a handsome man; very handsome… that hair that just happens to curl at the shoulders…

"Yes you are, Gaius," he said to himself. He laughed.

What the universe needs is a good looking man such as myself.

He chuckled. "Yes, funny thought."

Well, actually, I guess the universe needs a man like me. I am smart… intelligent…

"Handsomeness is a very attractive factor in a man… a good leader could get away with looks… now if he were the President…"

Baltar shook his head. "Nah… a good president does not talk to himself in the loo… or does he?" he inquired.

He laughed. He was talking to himself; he was actually talking to himself.

No doubt everyone thinks I talk to myself anyway. But, still… funny.

"Gaius…" said a voice.

Pause.

A big pause.

Who… was that?

Baltar looked behind him. He did not know who that voice was; he had never heard it before!

As much as he looked, he did not see anyone in the bathroom with him. He was the only one present.

But he could not shake off the feeling that he had company. Could it be good or bad company? If it was good company, then it was probably a crewmember.

Bad company?

"Don't even think about it," he said to himself, shaking his mental nerves. "Just don't…"

"Think about what?"

Baltar jumped at the sight of her. One blink, and she was there; Six. She looked curious.

He took a deep breath. "Thought I heard a voice, darling."

Six thoroughly looked around. "Honestly, Gaius, you must be hearing things…"

Baltar glared at her. "I don't find any mirth in that, I'll have you know."

Six smiled widely, showing an incredibly perfect quality of a smile. Sometimes it was too much to look at; it was so gorgeous.

"Gaius…" she purred. "You have an unmatched wit, my dear."

She turned him away from the mirror to face her, pulling herself close to him until her face was practically pressed up against his. Her lips grazed his lips in a very distant kiss.

"Gaius?" she asked.

Baltar was preoccupied in his own thoughts. He was looking straight into Six's eyes, as though trying to find answers.

"Gaius, what's wrong?"

He broke his trance, seeming quite shaken up and slightly nervous. "I… I don't know. Didn't you hear anything?"

"Hear what?"

"A voice. It called my name."

"Could it be possible that it was, me, by any chance?" she said with a grin.

Baltar shook his head. "No, definitely not. This voice… It… it was different."

Baltar did not move from his imaginary friend. He always found her company friendly.

"What did it sound like?"

"I think it sounded human… but, it was too...'"

"You can't remember?"

"No; I've been thinking too much that I just forgot it."

"Gaius," she said, kissing down his neck. "You think too much. Now you know the problems that can cause for you."

"W-w-well…" Gaius stuttered; her breath down his neck… oh yeah. It was like having a jumbo-charged flamethrower blast a streak of flame down his flesh. It was good.

"But…" she said, kissing more of his flesh. "Can you recall… how you heard it, maybe?"

What a thought.

"Yes… yeah! Yeah, I can," Baltar realized, looking at the wall as though gazing at his own mind; he was onto something. "But…" he could not withstand thinking and feeling the urge for sex fighting each other. It was either sex or thinking.

… Sex.

Baltar took Six's face into his hand, cupping her cheeks gently, and focused on her. "But… I think we should consider new grounds of our… sexcapade."

Six liked the sound of that very much; enough to make her hands traverse the clothed bodice of her lover. "mmmm…" she purred. "In the john?"

Baltar grinned. "I know of a stall… that's just been cleaned."

"Oh, do you?'

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"New idea?"

"You might say that."

Six playfully licked his lips in glee, making his senses go nuts with anticipation. Baltar was grinning like mad.

"Which stall?" she inquired.

Baltar immediately led her back to the stall, and then close the door in haste.

Like before; some things are not meant to be written about: especially when they take place in the loo.

This was by far no exception… well… maybe.

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"Commander…" Tigh called.

Adama, busy trying to entertain the President, almost ignored the Colonel. But the look on his face seemed to draw Adama. So, he pardoned himself from the President (who was talking to Gaeta), and went over to Tigh, who was looking over the space charts.

"What is it, Colonel?"

"Well, sir, with the help of Gaeta's reports and these charts, I may have an idea where we are currently swimming into.

"Swimming into?" repeated Adama.

"If you look at this chart—" Tigh impatiently wrestled a chart out from the messy piles of charts laid strawn on the table and revealed it to the Commander. "—this is where we were attacked. About thirty miles from the border of the chart, that was when we last encountered the Cylons. We were at the border around 1700 hours, a day and two weeks ago using the FTL. Over the past few weeks, we have decreased our speed gradually, and are now at a decent traveling speed. NOW, using information from stats, after calculating length over time with the location we started with and the location we ended with plus the FTL and then calculating length over time with interval speeds, and blah blah…" Tigh was tapping the chart with the butt of his pen as he did the math in his head. "…we were 500 miles from the border of this chart— as of yesterday."

Adama looked straight at him. "500 miles?"

Tigh nodded. "500 miles."

"As beneficial as that information may come to be when updating our charts is," Adama began making his point; "that still does not leave us with a definite location, Colonel. Do, you, or, do, you, not, know, where, we, are?"

Tigh irrevocably sighed. "Not exactly."

"Then where are we, Colonel?" Adama was getting impatient.

"Other than being perhaps 520 miles from the border of the charts we cannot know. It would take more groundup work with the charts history to figure that out."

"Then, by all means, do so. Right now… I'm keeping the President entertained. I would really appreciate it if you allowed me some room to do so, Saul."

"Mm-hmm…" murmured Tigh.

Adama turned to go, but then looked at Tigh. "Don't you get any funny ideas, now…"

"It's not my idea, Commander, when the rest of the ship thought it up beforehand."

"…thank you, Colonel. Get to work on those charts."

"Aye, sir."

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"How is everything on board the Galactica, Lieutenant Gaeta?" Laura asked friendly.

"It has been… well, very quiet, sir," the young man replied, sidetracked with work.

Oh gods… please let there be some REAL news…

But, nevertheless, Laura put on her smile; that friendly but fake smile of hers.

"Has everything been alright on the Colonial One, Madame President?" Gaeta asked. "That is, if I may ask."

Laura lightly laughed. "Well, since you HARDLY gave me chance to let you ask—"

Gaeta shut his eyes. "Oh, oh, oh, I do apologize, Madame President—"

"No, it's alright," she said, assuring him. "Really, nothing has happened."

Gaeta opened his eyes. "Oh. Well… I guess that is good news."

Great; good news…

Again, Laura put on her smile.

"However, Lieutenant, I do want to ask," she put in almost up front; "do you have any idea where we are?"

Gaeta was dead silent.

"Lieutenant?"

Gaeta opened his mouth to speak.

"I believe the Lieutenant is currently working on that, Madame President," Adama had cut in.

Gaeta, relieved, looked back up at the DRADIS and resumed his work.

Laura turned towards Adama, giving him the same smile she gave to the lieutenant.

"Commander," she started, sounding as if making a request; "If I am to get a general idea on our current status, I think it would be much more courteous if you did not interrupt me every time I ask a question."

"Any questions go to me," Adama countered.

"So, really, you do not know what the status is?"

Adama was silent a moment. "Currently, we are working on that."

"You can't make a guess?"

"It would be unwise to do so, Madame President. I believe facts would benefit us more than guesses."

Laura looked at the DRADIS a moment. The actual DRADIS was positioned over the Commander and Control Center in CIC; in the direct middle of the room. Hanging from the ceiling, it consisted of four computer monitors that displayed the DRADIS (Direction, Range, and Distance). A semicircular line stretched from left to right on the screen, serving as the border of one third of a circle. Inside the border were more lines the circled around until it reached the center (which was at the bottom of the screen). Every second, a three-dimensional line, extending from the bottom of the screen to the end of the border, came around revealing new information in the field of sight. It could show Commander Adama (or any other officer present, for that matter) what ships were in their range; and could tell if they were friendly or not.

Fifty ships were recognized on the DRADIS. All of them Colonial.

"Madame President?" the Commander spoke, noticing that the President had come into a distracted state.

Laura flashed back to the present. "Yes, Commander, you… you're right. But the people need an answer; and they would want it immediately."

Adama's lips came into a thin line once more. "There is no shame in saying we do not know."

"But you seem to think otherwise," she rebutted; "even a commander such as yourself would still want a statement that left everyone in the know."

Adama removed his spectacles and looked straight at her.

Laura flashed her smile again.

Caught you, didn't I?

"I know you, Commander Adama," she said. "You're a man who wants a firm answer, regardless if there is no definite one."

She half-expected him to stay quiet for a moment as he recuperated from her statements, and next reply by agreeing with her.

But, unexpectedly, that was not the case at all.

"I believe we all still do not know. I cannot answer you as of this moment."

Damn…

Laura's smile dropped for a moment.

Adama lightly smiled.

But, feeling that she still had the upperhand of this conversation, Laura brought up her smile again.

"Commander—"

"Madame President," the commander spoke quit suddenly. "I think you would be more interested in another matter.

Laura's smile faded. She had obviously been beaten this round.

Adama was obviously hiding a smile; he knew he won.

"Um, yes, Commander," Laura spoke subsequently; "I would like to see how things down on the deck are doing."

Adama nodded. "Tigh, you have CIC."

Tigh was watching them both from afar. "Yes, sir…" and then shook his head as he looked back down on the charts.

"This way, Madame President," he said, turning the other way already.

As Laura followed, she thought to herself how she could get back at him; just because she felt a tinge of amused curiosity when doing this meaningless battles with him; she felt Some kind of heat from him whenever they fought.

It was very addictive.

Smile now, Commander. I'll get you back.

And they were ready to head out of CIC…

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"Crossing out into sector G7… heading near an asteroid belt," he reported.

"Alright, Slipper. Careful flying in there," replied Galactica,"

"Will do. Slipper out."

The engine of his Viper Mark VII roared behind him as he delved into the deep space. Deep uncharted space. He was, specifically, flying beside an asteroid belt, staying maybe five clicks away from any potential danger (in the form of a huge asteroid).

Patrolling can really bite…

"What do you think is in there?" inquired his wingmate; his Viper was flying nearby his.

"Rocks and more rocks," chuckled Slipdog.

"That's it?"

"You bet."

"I mean, seriously—"

"I know; you're asking a serious question, and I'm giving you a serious answer."

"I don't mean that, Slip."

"Come on, let's keep the comm chatter down,"

"Okay."

"Just… I wanna hear the sound of space."

"You mean your engine?"

Slipdog shook his head. "Could you be quiet for a moment?"

His wingmate had cut the chatter, but Slipdog could see him laughing in his cockpit.

But Slipdog seemed to think about what his wingmate was egging on about. What was in there?

They started drifting closer to the asteroid belt to get a better look. So far, all they saw were clumps of rock. To be honest, it began looking like one huge group of rocks.

"Gods, I can't see frak in there."

His wingmate glided closer, almost in range of entering the belt itself.

"Don't you think about it!"

"Come on, Slipdog! Can't I just slip in and out for a moment?"

"Hey, that's my gig."

"Well, let it be mine for a moment, 'Dog. I'm going in."

"Don't do it, Lieutenant…" warned Slipdog.

"Nothing's gonna happen!"

As much as his heart told him to, Slipdog couldn't stop his bud. He was not exactly the best when it came to coming down hard on his subordinates; especially those who were his friends.

He let his wingmate do his dangerous patrol. He was a pretty good pilot after all.

Slipdog had probably glided up and down the strip, glaring at the point at the wall of rocks where his friend went in, more than fifty times when he grew anxious. And Slipdog did not get nervous easily.

His wingmate had not come out for twenty minutes.

"Zapper, do you read?" he spoke in the comm..

Nothing.

"Zapper, Slipdog, what's your status?"

Silence.

What the frak's going on!

He stared at the wall of rocks for the longest time, wondering what could possibly keep his wingmate in there for so long. Zapper may have been a curious fellow, but he couldn't have been this curious.

Maybe he got caught between some rocks?

Slipdog sighed.

"Galactica, do you read?"

"Yes, Slipdog."

"My wingmate flew into the asteroid belt about twenty minutes ago and has not turned up. I am going in for pursuit."

"Be careful, Lieutenant."

"Hey, I'm SLIPDOG. I slip wherever I want."

"Just watch yourself."

"I read ya. Slipdog out."

With that, he turned himself into the direction of the asteroid belt. With careful piloting, he managed to squeeze himself in.

Gods, this is madness!

He was flying blind! Everywhere he looked, there was a rock. No space. No nothing. Rocks. Rocks and rocks!

He had to—

FRAK ME!

He PULLED hard to the right and just dodged an asteroid— then he dodged to the left! It soon became a combo of lefts, rights, ups, downs, rights, ups, and etc. for Slipdog, and he began dreading the worst for his wingmate.

"Jacobs, you BETTER be alive; 'cause if I ain't, I'm choking you in hell!" he yelled.

He suddenly began hearing static going off and on. Like someone was trying to connect him.

Thank Gods!

"Jacobs! Where are you!"

"…g….h….Slip…!"

"JACOBS, WHAT, IS, YOUR, POSITION!"

"Get… go… GET OUT!"

"What? Speak clearly! I can't see or hear you in this mess!"

Suddenly, he broke out into an open space in the belt. But what he saw there made him say 'My Gods' in a very horrified tone. And he finally found his wingmate.

"RUN, DOG!"

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"CONTACT!" shouted Dualla.

Adama, the President, and everyone else in CIC halted at the sound of that.

"We have contact!" she said again.

Suddenly, everyone's hearts began to thump against their chest in surprised shock.

On the DRADIS, seven dots appeared. One of them was Colonial.

"What's the status on those six unknown ships?" Adama said calmly but with anticipation apparent in his voice.

"The Colonial pilot has announced that they are enemy," replied Dualla.

"Patch me through to him," Adama requested, grabbing the receiver already.

"Aye, sir."

The minute the connection was made, all everyone could hear was the pilot screaming and shouting.

"Galactica, do you read me! Galactica!"

"This is Commander Adama; what is going on!"

"Sir! Thank Gods! I— me and my wingman were— GYAH! Holy Gods! But me and my wingman were on patrol near the asteroid belt— FRAK! That almost got me— HOLY—" static.

"Lieutenant!"

Static… "Krypter— Krypter— Sir— I— wha— Gala— what— FRAK—" Adama kept getting mixed messages from the pilot.

"LIEUTENANT, CALM DOWN! GET A HOLD OF YOUR SHIP!" Adama said forcefully. "ARE THEY CYLON!"

"S— enemy— within sector Alpha— need help— they are— killed my wingman— Cylon— weapons— offline— need assistance— STAT—"

Slipdog's Viper started moving in all direction on the DRADIS. The other two ships were beginning to make maneuvers to take him out.

They were getting closer to the fleet.

"Lieutenant, repeat, are they Cylons?"

Pause.

"N— they are not but—" Static.

"Lieutenant, you'll have to bring them closer to the ship," said Adama. "That way we can take them out with our turret barrage."

"Sir— I'll— best."

"Set Condition Two throughout the ship, Gaeta."

"Aye, sir!" Gaeta replied. "Set Condition Two throughout the ship. Incoming unknown fighters. Prepare for enemy attack."

"Move us away from the fleet by four clicks," ordered Adama. He was getting nervous; these were not Cylons. The Pilot was getting scared.

"Sir— they're gaining— need help— they're smart— FRAK!"

The pilot was flying like a madman; he was lucky he wasn't getting shot.

"HOLY— they're unlike— seen. They— look like spiders—"

"How far are we from the fleet?" Adama said.

"Two clicks, sir."

"oh frak— guided— weapons!"

"Lieutenant! You've got to stay alive—"

"Losing stabilizer contr— SHIT! They've got my wing!"

"They're coming closer to us faster than we are to them," said Gaeta.

"Lieutenant, we're about to start firing!"

"Ready— anytime!"

"Firing cannon turrets."

"MOVE!"

The Colonial's ship moved hard to the right on the DRADIS. Two of the enemy ships suddenly vanished.

"You got 'em!"

"Start heading for the port landing pod, Lieutenant!"

"Aye sir!"

"Opening port—"

"No, not yet Gaeta. Wait for the enemy to break off."

Soon enough, all the enemy dots had vanished.

"Halt cannon fire."

:Halting cannon fire."

Silence.

The pilot began speaking clearly on the channel, now.

"Sir, I visibly saw you take down three of those things."

"What about the other three?"

"…either they probably exploded alongside each other or used an FTL drive to fly out. Otherwise, I don't see anything else."

"Can you land?"

"I think I can crash into the landing bay, but I'll be alright sir!"

"Do what you can, Lieutenant; come home."

"Aye sir!"

Adama took a breath to himself. Then he looked at everyone; they were watching him expectantly.

"Gaeta," Adama spoke. "Return to condition three and get that pod opened."

"Aye sir. Set Condition Three throughout the ship. Threat is diminished. Opening port landing pod."

"Retract the cannon turrets."

"Retracting, sir."

"Dualla, do we have any more Colonial ships on patrol?"

"Lieutenant Hicks and Lieutenant Antilles are patrolling behind the fleet while Lieutenant Smith and Lieutenant Do are checking on the sides. Boomer and Racetrack are patrolling ahead of the fleet."

"Send Smith and Do to check out the scene Slipdog's talking about, and have Boomer and Racetrack check with them."

"Aye, sir. Slipdog's in."

"Good. How was his landing?"

"Tyrol reports the ship is wasted."

"Must have been one hell of a task with half his ship gone."

"Aye, sir."

A sense of calm had started to ease throughout the people in CIC.

Adama looked at the President, who had been breathing heavily for a while.

"Are you alright, Laura?" he said, not realizing he said her name.

She seemed to notice it. "I'm fine, thank you... Commander."

When he did realize it, he did his best to not look as if he did.

Why did I do that?

"We are probably going to need a service," said the President.

At the top of his head, Adama would have asked 'what', but realized she was referring to Slipdog's wingmate. How could he forget that?

"Yes, we are," he said; "Madame President."

The President was escorted back to her quarters, with Billy asking her what had happened. Everyone onboard could hear the gunfire.

Adama returned to CIC to resume his post. He noticed some people were looking at him.

He realized something very spectacular about the events that just happened. He needed to speculate it with his people.

"I have to say, although we have been tired from a sense of boredom, and in fatigue of running from Cylons we have not seen, for two weeks, you have reminded me that I am leading some very brilliant people. Through fatigue and total relaxation, you all have managed to pull yourselves together and stand up strong for the moment once again. For that, I am immensely proud of you all."

Everyone began realizing it as well, and they looked amazed with themselves.

Adama was very proud. "Thank you all." He knew he could depend on these people to do what he needed them to do; and in such great time.

He was grateful.

He nodded his head, issuing them to resume their posts.

"Commander," spoke Tigh.

Adama met him near Command and Control.

"We need to find out what we just dealt with," said Tigh.

"What we are dealing with now, you mean."

"You think we'll see them again?"

"Maybe, but if we are going to investigate this issue, we are going to have to carefully tiptoe our way through this."

"Like we're sneaking around a sleeping cat, right?"

"Or five hundred."

Tigh looked at him, comprehending that message. "Aye, sir."

"We're going to need to have a flyby CAP every two hours, now. Get Kara out from the brig and have her replace Slipdog and Zapper."

Now Tigh was looking at him cautiously. "Are you sure you wanna do that, Bill?"

"Yes, and I'm not going back on my decision."

"…alright… but you gonna leave Kara to take on two posts at once?"

Adama blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Aren't you gonna have her fly with someone?"

"…oh, right, right. Has Hotdog finished today's painting?"

"Actually he hasn't begun. Thankfully."

"Get him flying with Kara."

Tigh nodded, motioning to leave. Then he stopped.

"Oh, uh, Commander."

"Yes, Colonel?"

"You're not gonna release Lee, are you?"

Adama paused. Was he going to?

"Let him fill out his week in hack."

Tigh blinked this time. "And you're releasing Starbuck!"

"She's the best pilot."

"So's Lee," reminded Tigh. "Both of them make a deadly pair even on a CAP."

"Lee will stay in the brig," Adama said rather calmly.

Tigh could not understand Adama. But he could not go against his order. "Aye, sir." And then left.

Adama, looking up at the DRADIS, began thinking to himself.

Lee cannot afford to be in any kind of fight. He just can't.

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The colonel came in to the brig, accompanied by a drowsy Hotdog. The two Marines immediately came to attention and saluted.

"At ease," uttered the old colonel. He could see the detainees.

The two privates were giving each other the cold shoulder, managing to leave the other out of his or her life. And, surprisingly, Thrace and Lee were refusing to acknowledge each other as well.

Couples' quarrels, Tigh dimly thought.

The four prisoners looked at the Colonel, wondering why he and Hotdog were here.

"Lieutenant Thrace is to be released," Tigh said to a Marine.

"Aye, sir!" said the Marine, moving to the cells.

As soon as the Colonel told the Marine to release her, Thrace gave a short glance at Lee before leaving her cell. Lee looked baffled.

"Wait, what's happening?" he demanded.

"Lieutenant Thrace and Lieutenant Constanza are flying a CAP together," the colonel replied. "It's your day off, Captain."

"But wait, we both fly the CAP together," Lee said defensively.

"Now you're not."

Lee was starting to get angry. "Colonel—"

"CAPTAIN," Tigh came close right up to Lee's cell, looking tense.

Lee's jaw tensed. "Colonel."

Tigh took a moment to calm himself, looking at the ground and sighing. "Your father does not want you to fly the CAP."

Lee blinked. "He doesn't."

Tigh shook his head, looking at Lee. "Lee, I'm, well... I'm sorry. I can only determine that he is still mad at you for the fight."

Lee shook his head. "I wasn't even a part of the fight; I was trying to break it up. Can't you see that?"

"Captain, I've heard your father talk about your school fights and your scuffles when you were a young schoolboy and even as a private. What makes either myself or the Commander believe your statement now, even if you have the bars to prove it?"

Lee was infuriately silent.

"Thrace, on the other hand," said Tigh, gesturing to her. She was giving him a nonplussed look.

"She… she's expendable," he said. He looked at her; "Sorry for saying so."

She said nothing.

"But Lee," Tigh continued, looking back at him. "Just make it easy for your father and be a good boy in hack?"

Lee remained silent. He shot a glance at Thrace, who looked at the ground. Then Lee, back to Tigh, sighed.

"Fine."

Tigh nodded his head to him. Then, as he took Thrace and Hotdog out, Lee just watched in disbelief and sunk onto his bunk. He buried his face in his hands, trying to massage all the sore muscles he irately tensed during that conversation.

The two privates were looking at him pitifully.

Lee didn't feel like talking to them. He didn't feel like talking at all. He wanted this whole thing to brush off so that he could fly again.

He wished his father could just forget it; forget it all! It felt humiliating to have this done to him. From what he believed, his father was trying to discipline him.

But he did not even listen to Lee; he barely gave him the chance. Why was he doing this?

He thought about what Kara must have been thinking. She was probably still angry at him for accusing her of starting a fight; for being spontaneously angry with her.

He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to fly with her. He thought it was probably for the best she flew with someone else. Maybe he'll be the next to feel angry at her sometimes.

But to some extent, Lee wished that wouldn't happen.