WSG-1: Fall of the Twelve Colonies

by Kelso323

As the Cylons unleash their genocidal strike upon the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, disparate groups of survivors struggle to defy bleak odds and the cold, calculating wrath of the Cylons; aged veterans and a new generation of inexperienced warriors band together to safeguard the addled survivors in their care. Their only mission; ensure the survival of humanity.

7. Part 6 - Outside The Box

Raptor Zero-Seven-Five
Final Approach on Starboard flight pod of Battlestar Pacifica

Commander Sean Kelso watched as the Raptor lined up for final approach.

Too tense to sit down in the co-pilot seat, he instead stood there between the seats, much to Lieutenant Cetina's consternation, his eyes never leaving the sight of what half his mind still considered a near impossibility.

The Battlestar Pacifica, long ago converted into a museum, and now pressed into service to evacuate refugees by the guile and determination of her wartime veterans, had survived the Cylon holocaust.

As the Raptor swept in along the flight deck, settling in over one of the active lifts, Sean Kelso anxiously began to pace the cramped rear compartment.

"With all due respect, Commander," began Ensign Petrovich. "That is getting to be very annoying."

"Just concentrate on getting us aboard, Ensign," sighed Kelso, his own tone a touch irritated. "Last thing we need to do right now is crash."

Within moments, the Raptor had touched down on one of the lifts and begun its descent down into the hangar deck.

While he wasn't quite sure exactly what he'd been expecting to see once the Raptor was aboard, Commander Sean Kelso was nevertheless quite surprised when a team of uniformed personnel rushed forward and moved the Raptor off the lift into the main service hangar.

As the taxiing Raptor was brought to a stop, Kelso began impatiently motioning to Petrovich to open the side hatch.

While Cetina and Petrovich continued to secure the Raptor's systems, Kelso himself ducked out under the still-opening side hatch and out onto the winglet and found himself looking out into the mixed crowd of people that had begun to gather around the Raptor. Uniformed personnel, civilians, men, women, children, literally hundreds of expectant faces stood staring back at him from around the hangar deck. A good number of them looked tired, many more carried expressions filled with sorrow, and yet in their eyes, as they stood looking to him, there also seemed to be what he might almost consider a glimmer of hope.

As he took a few more pensive steps out onto the winglet, Commander Sean Kelso looked up past the surrounding sea of humanity in time to see another uniformed individual quickly making his way down a ladderwell from the upper gantry area.

Hopping down off the winglet, Commander Sean Kelso took a few steps forward as the man just about leapt off the ladderwell and began pushing his way through the crowd.

Within moments, Commander Sean Kelso was face to face with the last person he'd ever expected to see again amid this catastrophe; Adrian Kelso, his father.

For a moment, they both stood there, hesitant, uncertain of what to say, of whether anything in fact needed to be said.

And then, quite deliberately, Commander Sean Kelso raised his hand and saluted his father.

His own hand almost shaking, Adrian Kelso slowly returned the salute, then reached over and practically swept up his son in a firm embrace.

After a few moments, the elder Kelso slowly let go of his son, surreptitiously wiping away the tears welling up in his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here, Sean?" asked Adrian, his grin ear to ear as he wiped at the tears in his eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing," chuckled Sean as he looked down and noted the uniform his father was wearing. "…Commander."

Glancing down at the uniform he was wearing, Adrian waved dismissively and grabbed his son back up in his arms.

"You don't know how damned glad I am to see you, son."

As the two Kelso's finally composed themselves, Sean Kelso glanced back around at the crowd gathered around them. As he looked over at one of the uniformed crewmen who'd helped move the Raptor off the lift, he finally noted the vessel assignment patch on the man's uniform.

"Battlestar Vanguard?" he muttered, glancing back over to his father.

Shrugging slightly, the elder Kelso likewise looked back over to his son.

"We've been a little busy the last couple days," he said simply.

"I can see that," sighed the younger Kelso. "We need to talk."

---

Battlestar Pacifica
Command Operations Center

As he stood leaning in over the massive operations planning board in the Pacifica's old Command Operations Center, Commander Sean Kelso could hardly believe what he was reading on the printouts his father had given him.

While Galactica's recovery of survivors and materiel from the Heracles and Anhur had been impressive considering the circumstances, what his father and the dedicated veterans and civilians under his ad hoc command had managed to accomplish was nothing short of epic.

With little more than their cunning and will to survive, they'd cobbled together a fleet of derelicts and civilian transports, evacuated literally tens of thousands of refugees from the surface of Sagittaron, carried out the rescue of still more survivors from the wrecked Battlestar Vanguard, and escaped.

All right under the nose of the relentless Cylon juggernaut.

While he had always harbored a deep respect for his father's service and accomplishments during the war, with this tangible evidence of his father's command abilities, Sean Kelso was now left nothing short of awed.

As he continued to go through the list of supplies and equipment the refugee fleet had managed to secret away, Sean Kelso heard the main entry hatch open up.

Glancing up from the clipboard, Commander Sean Kelso watched as his father ushered in an entourage of people, some in uniforms, most in civilian attire, presumably the commanders of the other ships.

As the new arrivals settled in around the large situation table, Commander Sean Kelso still felt amazed by what this disparate group had managed to accomplish over the last few days.

With his father settling into place beside him, the elder Kelso quickly went around the room introducing the refugee commanders.

When that was done, taking a deep breath, Sean Kelso looked around at the faces surrounding the table.

"It would seem you have all been quite busy," he grinned.

Thankfully, this managed to elicit the reaction he'd hoped for, a few chuckles and generally a relaxation of the evident tension many of the others around the table clearly carried.

"And while I wish there was adequate time to give due praise to what you've been able to accomplish, I'm sure you'll all agree that time is not on our side."

At that, several of the people assembled around the table nodded their heads in agreement.

"Here's what we know; just over fifty hours ago now, the Cylons returned in force and executed a wide front assault throughout the Twelve Colonies, either destroying or otherwise neutralizing the bulk of our forces," began Commander Sean Kelso. "Reports also show that the Cylons have engaged in massive orbital bombardment of most if not all population centers. All communication links with surface installations locations, military and civilian authorities, even amateur wireless operatores, have been severed."

"That does about sum it up," sighed Adrian Kelso dourly as he leaned in over the plot table.

All around the room, there were others who seemed to agree with little more than a grim nodding of heads, a stoic acceptance of the terrible facts in hand.

"Now, based on this manifest, the Proteus was in the process of being decommissioned, but is in fact still combat-capable, is that correct?" continued Commander Sean Kelso.

"Correct," replied one of the few around the large situation table in a Colonial uniform.

"And you are Major Tyle?" asked Sean Kelso.

"That's correct, Commander," replied the Major evenly. "The Proteus had only just arrived at the Sagittaron depot when the attack began. All of our primary and secondary weapon batteries were still in place, as well as all the launch facilities for Viper operations."

"And how many Viper's are currently embarked aboard Proteus?" asked Sean Kelso even as he quickly flipped through the manifests he'd been given.

"We have forty Mark Two Vipers and sixty Mark Six Vipers, all combat ready, transferred up from the depot before we departed Sagittaron," replied Major Tyle evenly as she looked through a small notebook of her own. "We also recovered ninety-two Mark Sevens from the Vanguard. But, since we don't know exactly why the Mark Sevens have been shutting down in combat, we've been relying on the Mark Twos and Sixes."

"Good call," sighed Sean Kelso evenly. "What about Raptors?"

"Eleven total, Commander," answered Tyle. "Though there are some Raptors on the other ships as well."

"Well, on the upside, Major, my own people have been able to determine why our systems have been so easily compromised by the Cylons," began Sean Kelso evenly as he looked over at Tyle. "Once we're finished here, I'll have our computer expert, Major Macedo, get in contact with your CAG and Deck Chief on how to bring the Mark Sevens back to combat ready."

"Very well, sir."

"How are you for munitions, both for the shipboard weapons as well as for your air wing?"

"We managed to extract a good amount from the Vanguard in those areas, sir," replied Tyle evenly. "We're not fully topped off, but we could put up some stiff resistance if it came down to it."

"While I appreciate your bravado, Major, let's hope that for the time being we won't have to test it," sighed Sean Kelso as he looked up around to the other assembled commanders. "How are each of your ships set for personnel?"

"All the decoms, Pacifica included, are running short in the engineering and flight deck sections," began Adrian Kelso. "But thus far we haven't run into any problems that are insurmountable."

"And how about the refugees, how are they holding up?"

"Scared, understandably, and packed in pretty tight on some of the ships," replied Director Paul Bess. "Some of our escapes have been pretty narrow, but so far we haven't had many problems with the civilians. Some have even volunteered to assist with the more mundane duties, but most are simply in shock, too stunned to do much more than wait the situation out. We are looking at ways to spread them around a bit more evenly, so they're not packed in as tight. With things as bad as they are, we could be aboard these ships for a while, people are going to need room to settle."

"Agreed, Director Bess, but I'm sure you'll also agree that defense is priority number one right now," sighed Commander Sean Kelso as he scribbled a few annotations down onto his clipboard. "It would be suicidal to dock your ships together unless we have our defenses organized first."

"Absolutely," replied Bess as he nodded his head. "We just have to keep in mind, long term, we're not just dealing with military personnel, we have thousands of men, women and children that don't know the first thing about shipboard life milling about in the corridors."

"I'm sure the unisex heads aren't going to go over well with a good number of them, either," interjected one of the civilian ship masters, the comment eliciting a few chuckles from some of the others around the table.

"No doubt the first of many things to consider," grinned Commander Sean Kelso as he looked out at the assemblage around the table. "Now to the next question I have."

Pausing, Commander Sean Kelso couldn't help but grin a bit wider.

"How in the hell did you find yourselves way out here at Leto's Twins?"

"That was my call," replied his father flatly. "While we were salvaging what we could from the Vanguard, DRADIS picked up the intermittent interference being put out by the pulsars."

"And so you thought it might be a good place to hide," finished Sean Kelso, gently nodding his head in understanding.

"Precisely," replied the elder Kelso. "With only one armed ship with us and several boatloads of civvies crammed aboard thin-hulled transports, we figured escape and evasion was the best course of action to take."

"Can't argue with that," muttered Sean Kelso.

"And why exactly did you come out here, Commander?" asked Bess evenly. "As far as any of us were aware, this was just a convenient stellar formation, a place to hide. What would a ship as powerful as yours being doing way out here?"

"With all due respect, Commander, I was wondering that myself," interjected Major Tyle. "In fact, sir, I'm more curious as to where your ship even came from. I've never even heard of a 'Warstar', much less a 'Warstar Galactica'."

"Considering how much she cost to build, it amazes me that no one we've come across so far has heard of her," muttered Sean Kelso, his tone almost mockingly indignant. "In any event, the Battlestar Galactica was slated for decommissioning this week, my Galactica was more or less her replacement. We put out of Scorpion Shipyards a couple days ago for initial shakedown trials."

"Do you have a full complement aboard, sir?" asked Major Tyle.

"I hope I don't burst your bubble with this, Major, but no," replied Sean Kelso evenly. "In fact, much like you, most of the crew we currently have aboard were picked up from the Heracles and Anhur. We found their battlegroup all but destroyed at one of the emergency rally points listed in our EWO's."

"Fleet Command didn't recall your ship when the attack started?" asked Director Bess.

"The attack was already over by the time the first wireless messages began reaching us at the proving grounds," replied Commander Sean Kelso evenly. "We were over a light-day from Caprica when the attack started, none-the-wiser until it was already over. In fact, we didn't have any idea how bad the situation had gotten until we stumbled across a Scimitar gunship that had jumped out near us by mistake."

"What Scimitar?" asked one of the civilian liner Captains, his name, embarrassingly, escaping Commander Sean Kelso even though he'd only just been told what it was.

"One of yours, actually," replied Sean Kelso as he gestured across to Director Paul Bess. "Apparently they were part of your evacuation effort from Sagittaron."

"So they survived?" interjected the same liner Captain.

"Do you know something about this, Jack?" asked Bess as he looked over to the man.

"When we lifted off from the airfield, the Marines holding down the area were attacked by a force of Centurions," began Captain 'Jack' evenly. "The Marine CO ordered the Scimitar to escort us into orbit, but they turned back to give the Marines on the ground some assistance with breaking the Centurion assault. Last we heard over the wireless they'd broken the attack so that the Marines were able to break contact, after that we lost communications with them."

"That sounds like our wayward bird," nodded Sean Kelso. "After they broke up the ground assault, they tangled with a couple Raiders, dropped one, took some damage, but still managed to execute a jump that brought them out to us."

"Good to know they made it," sighed Captain 'Jack'.

"So you knew we'd managed to escape?" asked Adrian Kelso evenly.

"We knew you'd managed to escape from Sagittaron, yes," replied Sean Kelso evenly. "We even managed to retrieve the initial coordinates you jumped to from the Scimitar's nav computer. We sent a recon Raptor but apparently you'd already moved on."

"How did you figure out we'd jumped here?" asked Bess.

"We didn't, actually," replied Sean Kelso flatly as he looked over at the Bess. "We came out here for an entirely different reason."

"And that is?" asked the elder Kelso, his brow furrowing a bit.

"Torvik," replied Sean Kelso.

Looking around, Commander Sean Kelso could see the name had little if any meaning to any of the assembled ship commanders.

"The Torvik Anchorage," continued Sean Kelso still seeing little comprehension from the assemblage. "Fifteen years ago, the Colonial Fleet built an emergency supply anchorage out here similar to the one in orbit of Ragnar, only much larger."

"We're light-years from the Colonies," interjected another one of the liner Captains. "Why would the fleet put an anchorage way the frak out here?"

"Two reasons," snapped Sean Kelso. "First, Command felt that putting an anchorage this far out opposite of Cylon territory would decrease the likelihood of it being compromised during the early stages of an attack. Second, it was thought that the massive radiant emissions put out by the pulsars would have a debilitating effect on the Cylons if they got close."

"So far it only seems to be playing havoc with our own DRADIS and communications," observed Bess. "If there is a station nearby, how can we possibly make anchorage when we can't even navigate towards it?"

"We have the coordinates for the Torvik Anchorage aboard the Galactica," answered Sean Kelso as he glanced around at the assemblage. "As soon as we're done here, we'll can pull the fleet back out of the nebula enough to regain our navigational fix, then we'll set course for the entry corridor with your ships in trace."

"Supply-wise, how much materiel are we talking about here?" asked Bess evenly. "From what I recall, the Ragnar Anchorage only had enough materiel to service maybe, what, one Battlestar Group?"

With that, Sean Kelso smiled.

---

"I wish I could have gotten a picture of your faces," chuckled Sean Kelso as he and his father stepped out into the corridor.

The other ship commanders had already filtered out of the Command Operations Center and were doubtless on their way back to their respective ships.

"Well what did you expect?" replied Adrian Kelso as he reached over and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "My gods, four Battlestar Groups worth of materiel, hell, you might as well have told them there were four brand-new Battlestars waiting at anchor."

"Well, we haven't reached the anchorage yet," stated Sean evenly as he continued on down the corridor. "I wouldn't dare say as much in there, but we do have to be prepared for the possibility that Torvik could have been compromised."

"If you believe that, why bother coming out here?"

Taking a deep breath, Sean Kelso looked over into his father's eyes.

"Arrogance," he finally said.

"Who's arrogance, exactly?"

"The Cylons," continued the younger Kelso as he made a turn he knew would eventually lead him back down to the hangar deck. "They've managed to hit us so hard, devastate our civilization so completely with their attack; flush with victory they might just overlook Torvik's existence."

"And you're betting that since they've managed to eviscerate our fleet, they won't bother with the depots because there should be no ships left to reach them."

"Efficient as they are, the Cylons are merely machines with one obvious, overwhelming flaw, Dad," continued the younger Kelso.

"And that is?"

"We built them," answered Sean flatly. "They might think of themselves as perfect, but they can't escape that one truth; we flawed humans are the reason they exist, which means, by definition, they are also flawed."

"You seem to have this pretty well planned out, son," he muttered, glancing over at his son, grinning.

"Hardly," scoffed Sean. "Something else I would never have said in there, but I'm making this up as I go."

"Whoa now, just stop for one second," said Adrian Kelso as he over and took hold of his son's arm, stopping him in the center of the corridor.

As Sean turned back to his father, he noted the curious smirk on the elder Kelso's face.

"What makes you any different from any other battle commander in history?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said you were making this up as you go as if every other commander in history knew step for step what they were doing when they sailed into harm's way," countered the elder Kelso, crossing his arms slightly. "If I've never told you this before then let me take this opportunity to set you straight on the dirty little secret carried by everyone who's ever had the conn during a firefight; we were all making things up as we went."

Chuckling slightly, it took Sean Kelso a moment to read through his father's expression and realize the elder Kelso was being absolutely serious.

"Haven't you ever heard the expression that no plan ever survives the first contact intact?" asked Adrian Kelso evenly.

Nodding his head slightly, Sean Kelso took half a step back to allow two crewmembers by.

Looking about, the elder Kelso noted that several more crewmembers were approaching, a large pallet of supplies in tow.

Glancing over his shoulder, Adrian noted that he and his son were right beside an old weapons locker which under the circumstances would likely be empty.

Reaching over, the elder Kelso gave the entry hatch a shove and motioned with his head for his son to follow him inside. As Sean stepped inside the dimly lit space, Adrian closed the hatch and locked it.

Turning back, the elder Kelso once again folded his arms.

"Now, where were we?"

"No plan ever survived the first contact intact," answered his son dutifully, smirking slightly.

"Oh, yeah," muttered the elder Kelso, chewing a bit on his inner lip. "A bit simplistic sounding perhaps, but not very far off the mark. Manuals, battle tactics, drills, preparations, these are all just tools; nothing ever really prepares you for real combat, son."

"Maybe, but I am literally outside my element here, Dad," replied Sean evenly. "I'm an Engineer, not a line officer. My XO would likely be glad to point that out for you were you to ask."

"Frak him, I don't care about his opinion," burst the elder Kelso.

"Her," corrected Sean with a smirk.

"Sorry?"

"Her, Dad; my XO is of the double-X chromosome persuasion," stated Sean.

"Oh, well, in that case, frak her opinion," continued Adrian stubbornly. "In any event, it's irrelevant. My point is this; we can train, we can study, but when the bullets start to fly, what counts is the character of the person at the top."

"And what if I'm not the right person?" asked Sean as he leaned against the bulkhead.

Adrian Kelso paused, his expression curious.

"And what would make you think that, Sean?"

"If I hadn't been in command of Galactica, by pure chance, I'd have died with everyone else at Scorpion Shipyards," replied Sean evenly.

"And if we hadn't been aboard the Pacifica, by pure chance, as you so eloquently put it, we'd all be dead too," countered Adrian. "Let me try and put this as simply as I can; when you learned about the attack, what was your first thought?"

"Fear."

"Perfectly normal; next thought after that one?"

"That I needed to locate other survivors and get Galactica into the fight."

"Exactly my point," continued Adrian Kelso evenly. "You could have simply sat out there waiting for orders that were never coming or for the Cylons to find you, but you didn't; you acted. Seems so simple, but when it means risking one's own survival, sometimes making a choice is the only difference between a leader and follower."

"And if I were to ask you what I should do now, what would you say?"

"I would say that what I think doesn't matter."

"Fine, what does your experience say I should do?"

"You already know the answer."

"Do I?"

"Sean, I could give you my advice, I could even try and tell you what you should do, but why would I?" continued Adrian as he reached up and massaged a knot in his shoulder. "The only thing that matters now, right now, is that you are now in command of this fleet."

"I'm sorry?" muttered Sean Kelso, pushing off the bulkhead slightly.

"You heard me."

"Dad, this is your fleet; you are the senior-most…"

"No," snapped Adrian Kelso flatly.

With his father's tone coming across like a crisp slap to the face, Sean Kelso stood there looking over into his father's resolute stare.

Taking a breath, Adrian stepped closer, reached across, and grabbed hold of his son's shoulders.

"You are in command, Sean," began Adrian, looking his son squarely in the eye. "It doesn't matter how, or why, the only thing that matters is what you plan to do with that fact; will you act, or not?"

"And if I do act, what makes you certain that I will make the right choices?"

"Because," began the elder Kelso, smiling slightly as he gave Sean's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're my son."

---

Warstar Galactica
Nearing the entry corridor to Torvik Anchorage

As he made his way through Galactica's corridors back to the CIC, Commander Sean Kelso continued to digest what his father had told him, his father's words echoing around in the thoughts ever since he'd climbed aboard the Raptor for the flight back from Pacifica.

Rounding the last corner, Commander Sean Kelso looked up at the Marine posted outside CIC. As he stepped up, the Marine dutifully reached over and began to open the CIC hatch only to have Commander Kelso motion for him to stop.

As Commander Kelso simply stood there looking at him, the Marine likewise looked back over at him, his expression uncertain, curious.

"What's your name, Corporal?" asked Kelso evenly.

"Daniels, Commander."

"Corporal Daniels, can I ask you a question?" sighed Kelso as he took a tentative step closer.

"Yes, sir?"

"Did your parents object at all when you told them you were enlisting?"

"My parents, sir?"

"Yes, your parents, what did they say when you told them you were joining the military?"

"They thought it was a mistake, sir," shrugged Daniels, his expression still somewhat perplexed.

"Can I ask why?"

"My father served as a unit priest with the Marines during the war," replied Daniels evenly. "I guess he didn't want me to ever see some of the things he did."

"Why did you enlist then?"

"College, sir," replied Daniels, smiling slightly. "Tuition fees are high for a priest's salary; the Fleet offered to pay my way after my term of service was up, so I signed up."

"What did you plan to study?"

"Actually, I'd thought about being a teacher, sir," replied Daniels.

"A teacher, really, what subject?"

"Primary school, actually," said Daniels, smiling slightly himself. "I don't know why, but I've always liked being around kids; kind of enjoyed the thought of maybe even being able to teach my own kids one day."

All of the sudden, the smile on Daniels' face began to fade.

"Don't suppose there's much chance of that now though, Commander."

Reaching over, Kelso gave Daniels' shoulder a quick pat.

"Don't count us out of the fight yet, Corporal."

Pausing one last moment, Kelso gave Daniels a reassuring smile, before turning to open the CIC hatch.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"If I may ask, Commander, why did you want to know?"

Smiling, Kelso looked back over at Daniels.

"Chances and choices, Corporal Daniels, just wanted to know why you were here."

"I'm not sure I understand, sir."

"It's not important, Corporal," sighed Kelso as he looked at the formidable looking door leading into CIC. "Just don't give up on your plans, there are a lot of children among the refugees; when this all plays out, they'll still need a teacher."

With one last pat of Daniels' shoulder, Commander Sean Kelso reached over and opened the hatch into CIC.

Stepping in, he glanced around CIC, then made his way quickly over to the plot table.

Without a word, he stepped up to the table and cast his eyes towards the overhead DRADIS screens. Although they'd pulled back out of the nebula, there was still a good amount of interference on DRADIS, nevertheless, a neat formation of ships, the refugee fleet, could be seen holding tight astern of Galactica.

"Status, Major Burke?"

"All systems nominal, Commander," began Burke as she looked across the plot table at him. "We are approaching the entry corridor; ETA ten minutes."

"Has Major Macedo finished retrofitting the Mark Seven Vipers with the software from the older ships?"

"Affirmative, Commander, all ships are now operational in case we run into the Cylons."

"Very well."

His eyes still locked on DRADIS, Kelso kept his eyes on the trailing refugee fleet.

His fleet.

While he had to admit that having another combat-capable ship, the Proteus, now at his disposal was heartening, he still felt daunted by the idea that the survival of tens of thousands of people, potentially the last humans left alive, now rested on his decisions.

"Have we plotted out the entry corridor to Torvik Anchorage?" asked Kelso evenly as he glanced across to Burke.

"Lieutenant Cortez has all turn points plotted, Commander," replied Burke. "However, with a ship this big, we'll have very little room for error after we enter the corridor. Assuming the charts we have aboard are accurate, we should be able to navigate the full length of the corridor in a little over three hours."

"Then prepare to thread the eye of the needle, Major," said Kelso as he cast his eyes back up to DRADIS.

---

Battlecruiser Enceladus
Raptor recon mission rally point

"Colonel, all stations, all ships report ready for jump," called Lieutenant Martin Thorpe.

"Very well," replied Runel evenly as he looked up from the lone printout he was holding. "Start the clock, Lieutenant."

As Thorpe began to call off the FTL checklist, Runel looked back down at the printout.

In spite of the extra time he'd afforded them, the two remaining overdue Raptors had not reported in.

But as disheartening as that fact was to him, the report he'd just received from sickbay was even more so.

Ensign Janice Krieger, the ECO from the shredded Raptor that had barely made it the deck of Enceladus, was recovering from a long list of injuries; extensive burns, a punctured lung, multiple fractures. Her prognosis for recovery was generally fair, though she'd never be able to fly again.

Lieutenant Al Crandle, the pilot who'd violated Runel's orders and placed the Raptor in jeopardy in the first place, ended up being the one who'd paid the steeper price, dying on the operating table less than an hour ago. According to Doc Branford, the shrapnel that had ripped into the brash young pilot had lacerated his aorta; he'd simply lost too much blood by the time he'd smeared the wounded Raptor's nose across Enceladus' hangar deck.

The one factor that prevented the entire affair from being an unmitigated disaster was that the Raptor's communication logs did indeed indicate bonafide contact with survivors on the surface of Sagittaron. Unfortunately, even perversely, rather than clearing his conscience, knowing that there were in fact men and women still alive on the surface of Sagittaron actually made things more difficult. Beyond delivering back the wireless intercepts, the demolished Raptor's DRADIS logs quite clearly showed the formidable Cylon forces that lay between him and those survivors.

Six confirmed Basestars sat in orbit around Sagittaron, with hundreds of patrolling Raiders near each Basestar.

With only a battered battlecruiser, two destroyers and a lone Combatstar to oppose that much enemy hardware any attempt on his part to execute a rescue would be tantamount to suicide.

Taking a deep breath, Colonel Runel lay the lone sheet down onto the plot table, casting his eyes up towards the overhead DRADIS as Lieutenant Thorpe called off the last few moments to the FTL jump.

As the disorienting sensation of the jump itself came and went, seemingly abating more quickly with each successive jump, Runel simply blinked his eyes to overcome it as the DRADIS overhead became obscured.

"Jump completed, Colonel, we are now within nominal range of Leto's Twins," called Lieutenant Thorpe.

"Very well, Lieutenant, prepare to plot…"

Overhead, DRADIS suddenly let out a low alarm, cutting off Runel mid-sentence.

"Contact!" shouted Lieutenant Thorpe, his voice cutting through CIC as he bolted back over to the Operations console. "Correction; multiple contacts, Colonel!"

Overhead, through the hash of interference, Runel was barely able to discern the contacts themselves, but nevertheless felt a surge of adrenaline at the sight of the intermittently appearing icons labeled 'unknown'.

"Lieutenant Thorpe, initiate an IFF interrogation," snapped Runel.

"IFF is negative, Colonel," replied Thorpe almost instantly. "We're not picking up any active Colonial transponder signals from the formation."

Snatching up the handset on the side of the plot table, his other hand toggled the switch for the ship's overhead One-MC.

"This is CIC, all hands, man Action Stations," snapped Runel as he continued to focus in on the intermittent signals on DRADIS. "Battery plot prepare firing solution, all main batteries, for ship-to-ship engagement; suppressive batteries prepare to repel Raider assault. Away all DC, medical and Marine teams to your assigned sections."

As Runel reached down to hang up the handset, Petty Officer Templeton called out to him from the communications station.

"Sir, I have a Priority Communiqué from Savitri-Actual for you."

"Pipe it here," sighed Runel as he lifted the handset back to his ear. "Make this quick Savitri-Actual."

"Your orders, sir?" snapped Colonel Webber over the wireless.

"Three fold," replied Runel flatly. "One; have your Tac Ops Officer begin plotting an escape jump. Two; prepare all your birds for immediate sortie in case they come at us with more Raiders than triple-A can handle. And three; be prepared to initiate full battle maneuvers on my order."

"Copy that," said Webber simply a moment before terminating the connection.

As he slowly reached down to hang up the handset, Runel couldn't help but be slightly taken aback at how Colonel Webber had simply accepted his orders without argument.

She'd never just taken his word without an argument, especially not while they were a couple.

Cutting through his distraction, the overhead DRADIS began chiming for his attention.

"Colonel, looks like one of the ships has broken formation and is turning to close with us," called Lieutenant Thorpe.

"Lieutenant, I need you to cut through this hash and give me a clear picture of what we're dealing with out there," snapped Runel as he glared up at the interference on DRADIS.

"Colonel, this close to the pulsars and surrounding nebula, getting a firm lock is going to be difficult."

"Don't tell me what you can't do, Lieutenant, show me what you can do," snapped Runel, his acid glare never leaving the screen overhead.

Seconds continued to tick away as Lieutenant Thorpe feverishly began attempting to adjust DRADIS for a clearer image.

"Lieutenant?"

"Colonel, confirm one contact CBDR, estimate it will reach maximum engagement line in nine minutes," replied Thorpe. "Remainder of the formation is maintaining their original heading near the nebula perimeter."

"Number, type and heading, Lieutenant," snapped Runel as he glanced over impatiently at Thorpe.

"Six capital-size warships, fourteen smaller ships, possibly transports," replied Thorpe. "Course projection shows them heading towards the entry corridor for the Torvik Anchorage."

"Do any of the ships match the DRADIS profile of any of the Cylon vessels we've encountered so far?"

"Inconclusive, Colonel," replied Thorpe, shaking his head slightly as he continued, fruitlessly, to adjust DRADIS.

Taking a deep breath, Runel glared back up at the screen overhead.

If they were Cylons, then they not only had Runel's battlegroup outnumbered, but they'd also blocked off any chance of reaching the badly needed supplies stored at the Torvik Anchorage.

Nevertheless, Runel noted that even with the numerical advantage, the Cylons had apparently only committed one warship to engaging his ships.

Why?

To be sure, the vessel that was closing with them had the largest DRADIS signature he had ever seen before, but why would the Cylons hold back the bulk of their forces, why not just attack in force and wipe them out?

And then it hit him; the fourteen smaller ships, the ones Thorpe thought were transports, they must be carrying something vital, something the Cylons really wanted to protect.

And by default, anything the Cylons wanted to protect that badly was something he wanted to destroy even more.

"Get me the other ship commanders," snapped Runel as he snatched back up the handset.

"You're on, Colonel," replied Templeton a moment later. "Savitri, Adroa and Ikenga all on the wireless."

"Enceladus-Actual to Savitri, has your Tac-Officer completed calculating our escape jump?"

"Affirmative, Enceladus-Actual," replied Colonel Webber over the wireless.

"Good, because we're going to need to get out here pretty quick before too long," replied Runel as he looked back up at the closing contact on DRADIS. "Here's the deal, the Cylons are only committing one ship to engage us; as I see it there must be something they're trying to protect on those smaller vessels."

"And anything with that many capital grade vessels protecting it is a target worth taking down," interjected Colonel Webber thoughtfully.

"Precisely."

"How did you want to proceed?" asked Ikenga's CO, Major Jasper.

"Three prong attack," snapped Runel as he watched the large contact continue to close in. "Savitri will maneuver around astern of their formation; hold off launching your air wing until you've closed to well within their air-defense envelope."

"Understood."

"I want the Adroa and Ikenga to break off and maneuver in forward of their advance," continued Runel. "Cross their T and hit them hard with a full broadside down along their formation."

"Copy that, Enceladus."

"Remember, avoid the capital vessels as best you can; your targets are those transports," said Runel as his gaze shifted hungrily to the formation of small ships.

"And what about you, Enceladus-Actual?" asked Colonel Webber pointedly.

"Someone's got to draw away that big mother-fraker bearing down on us," replied Runel flatly as his eyes returned to the large contact, now only six minutes away from engagement range. "Enceladus is going straight up the gut at flank speed; ship that big, I can't imagine they'll be able to come about very quickly once we sail by."

"Good luck, Enceladus-Actual," sighed Webber.

"To us all," replied Runel simply. "Go with the gods, and we'll see you on the other side. Enceladus, out."

As he hung the handset back up, Runel felt his mouth going dry.

Adrenaline; fear; resolve…

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for what he was about to do.

If by the grace of the gods his battlegroup was able to pull off this attack, and it was by no means certain that they could, they'd potentially be striking a damaging blow to the Cylons. If they didn't survive, then at least they'd go down fighting. One thing was for certain; after nearly three days of retreating and evading, Colonel Thadius Runel was tired of running.

"We've received the escape jump coordinates from the Savitri, Colonel," called Lieutenant Thorpe. "Savitri, Adroa and Ikenga have broken formation with us and are maneuvering in accordance with your battle orders."

"Helm, bring us around to engage the closing enemy contact," called Runel as he slowly stood up ramrod straight at the plot table. "Increase to flank speed."

Pausing, Runel took a moment to look around the CIC, look into the eyes of his crew, and while he saw fear in them, he also determination; clearly they too were tired of simply running.

"Adjust course to take us close to redline; minimum engagement distance," continued Runel. "I want to be so close they'd be able to look out a window and see the rivets in our hull."

"Aye, Colonel," replied Petty Officer Pardi, no hint of hesitation in her voice.

"Advise all main batteries to prepare full barrage, hot load, AP ordnance only," said Runel as he returned his eyes to the DRADIS screen overhead. "Let's bring the fight to them, people."

---

Warstar Galactica
Nearing the entry corridor to Torvik Anchorage

"Colonial?" muttered Commander Sean Kelso, his eyes still locked on the contacts spreading out across the DRADIS overhead. "Are you certain, Lieutenant Cortez?"

"Confirmed, sir," snapped Cortez. "I can't run a full verification because we don't have the latest recognition codes in our database, but their navigational registries tag them as Colonial."

"If they're Colonial, why are they breaking off into an attack spread?" asked Major Burke as she leaned in over the plot table.

Glancing across to Burke, Commander Sean Kelso thought about it, then glanced back up at DRADIS.

The decommissioned ships didn't have any active transponder systems, and the civilian transports had all turned theirs off to decrease the likelihood of detection.

Even Galactica's own transponder wouldn't tag her as a Colonial Warship to any other fleet vessel; until she was commissioned, only her civilian-registered navigational tag would be detected. And like the civilian transports, Galactica's nav-transponder was turned off.

"Frak," he muttered, visibly surprising Major Burke. "Harris, get on the wireless and order the civilian ships to reinitialize their transponders and then hail the closing ships over the wireless."

"Aye, Commander," replied Harris as she set about the task.

Within moments, Kelso watched as the transponders aboard the civilian transports began reactivating one-by-one, their 'unknown' labels changing to their civilian registries.

Reaching down, Kelso picked up the handset on the side of the plot table, motioned for Harris to open the wireless channel he'd asked for, then raised the handset to his ear.

"This is Warstar Galactica, to the approaching Colonial warships," began Kelso evenly, fighting to keep his voice even as he cast his eyes back towards DRADIS. "Do not attack, I say again, do not attack, this is a friendly convoy carrying civilian refugees."

With baited breath, Kelso watched DRADIS, waiting, hoping for a response.

If the approaching ships had heard his transmission, they gave no indication, they simply continued to fan out.

"I say again, to the approaching Colonial warships, this is the Warstar Galactica, cease your advance and respond immediately."

Again, he waited; again, the ships did not change course.

"Why won't they answer?" muttered Burke as she scowled up at the screen overhead. "Is it possible this is some sort of Cylon trick?"

"Possible, Major, but why would the Cylons need to trick us?" countered Kelso evenly as he continued to watch the contacts spread out. "With most of the fleet destroyed, they could simply mass their forces here for an all out attack if they wished, why bother trying to deceive us?"

Nodding her head slightly, conceding to his point, Burke nevertheless kept her eyes glued to DRADIS.

"Maybe I should try something more direct," he muttered, moving the handset mic back to his lips. "This is Commander Sean Kelso, Colonial Fleet Serial Number Four-Zero-Four-Three-Two-Seven, to the approaching Colonial warships; I know you can hear me, I know you can see the transponders on the civilian ships, break off your attack and respond on this channel immediately or we will be forced to open fire on you."

Glancing across to him, Burke was visibly surprised.

Matching her gaze, Kelso continued to wait.

On the speakers overhead, the gentle crackle of static suddenly gave way to a voice.

"This is the Colonial Battlecruiser Enceladus," began the firm voice on the other end of the wireless. "If you are who you say you are, and I have my doubts, authenticate ident with Colonial recognition codes immediately."

At that, Kelso let out a long sigh.

"Enceladus, be advised we do not have the recognition codes you reques…" began Kelso evenly.

"Then be advised, we will not break off our attack," replied the voice evenly.

"With whom am I speaking?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information," replied the voice flatly.

"Commander, if that ship at their center does not break off, they'll be within engagement distance in less than four minutes," muttered Burke evenly.

Nodding slightly, but nothing more, Kelso kept his eyes keenly locked on the closing contacts.

"Since you'll be within weapons range in four minutes, let me make this point as bluntly as I possibly can," began Kelso. "Unless you break off your attack, you will be firing on friendly forces, more importantly, you will be firing on unarmed civilian transports carrying tens of thousands of refugees. Break off your attack!"

"Unless you provide me with properly authenticated recognition codes with your next transmission, that will not happen," replied the voice on the wireless flatly.

"Gods dammit, listen to me…" began Kelso angrily, a split second before he heard the speakers overhead go silent.

"They've cut the transmission, Commander," called Harris.

Looking up at DRADIS, then at the handset in his hand, Kelso slowly placed the handset back in place, leaned in over the plot table, and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Three minutes to engagement range, Commander," said Burke.

Looking up at her, then around at the crew in CIC, Kelso stood up, folded his hands behind his back, then looked back up at DRADIS.

"Sound Action Stations, Major," he said evenly.

Shocked, Burke simply stared at him for a moment.

"Major, I gave you an order," said Kelso as he looked across the plot table at her.

"Aye, sir," she muttered.

Reaching down, Major Burke lifted the handset on her side of the plot table to her ear, took a breath, then toggled the switch for the One-MC.

"This is CIC, all hands, Action Stations," she began, her voice strained. "I say again, Action Stations, set Condition One throughout the ship; secure all hatches and egress points; bring main and secondary batteries online and prepare to attack."

As the overhead alarm began to echo throughout CIC, throughout Galactica, Burke gently lowered the handset back to its place, and then looked back across at Kelso.

"Do you really intend to engage them, Commander?" she asked evenly.

"Unless they break off their attack, they leave me with no choice, Major," replied Kelso as he returned his gaze to DRADIS. "There are tens of thousands of civilians on those refugee ships."

"Main and secondary batteries have been deployed, Commander," called Lieutenant Cortez. "Flight deck reports all active Vipers manned and ready to deploy on your order."

"Very well," replied Kelso evenly, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back across at Burke.

"Sir?" muttered Burke weakly, her eyes darting back and forth between the Commander and the screens overhead.

"We can't let them fire on those transports, Major," said Kelso evenly his eyes not leaving the screen overhead. "It's as simple as that. Even if it costs us the Galactica herself, those civilian ships have to survive."

Swallowing hard, Burke glanced back up at DRADIS, back up at the fellow Colonial warships arraying themselves to wipe out the civilian refugee fleet.

"Aye, sir," she said simply.

---

Battlecruiser Enceladus
Nearing the entry corridor to Torvik Anchorage

"Sir, the civilian transponders are in our system," said Lieutenant Thorpe evenly as he glanced up at DRADIS.

Beside him, Colonel Thadius Runel stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

"But those are only on the small transports," replied Runel evenly. "There are still six capital-grade vessels out there that aren't squawking at all, including the one bearing down on us right now."

Taking a deep breath, Runel looked over at Thorpe. There was doubt in the young officer's eyes. To be sure, there was doubt creeping in at the corners of Runel's own thoughts.

But doubts got people killed.

"No, Lieutenant," he muttered evenly. "If they can't provide us with the proper recognition codes, I must assume those are enemy ships out there. Computer problems aside, we have no way of knowing whether the Cylons managed to use a ruse like this against other elements of the fleet during the initial attack."

Looking back up at DRADIS, Runel wrung his fingers together as he took a deep steadying breath.

"Prepare to fire full salvo from main batteries," called Runel. "Rapid dominance, people, let's try and stun them with our first barrage and continue on to the prime targets."

Without a word, Lieutenant Thorpe turned and began making his way back over towards the Operations console.

"Two minutes to engagement range, Colonel," stated Thorpe evenly as he dropped back into his seat.

---

Warstar Galactica

"Frak," muttered Kelso bitterly.

In less than two minutes the closing ship would be in range to lay down a devastating barrage against Galactica.

Large though she may be, damage was damage, and people, his people, would be wounded and killed.

"Prepare for full counter-barrage," stated Kelso evenly.

"Sir, Proteus-Actual is requesting instructions," called Harris. "Do you want them to turn and engage as well?"

"Negative," snapped Kelso. "They are to hold position with the fleet. Order Proteus to launch all available Vipers and deploy them in an air-defense posture around the civilian fleet, but they are not to leave that formation."

---

Battlestar Pacifica

"My gods, I can't believe this is happening," muttered Ensign Cole as she watched the contacts on DRADIS draw ever closer. "The civilian transports have their transponders on now, gods damn; can't they see we're Colonials as well?"

"Without transponders on the decoms and no warship recognition codes to transmit to them, they have no way of verifying that, Ensign," replied Adrian Kelso soberly as he watched his son's ship continue to close with the other Colonial ship advancing in the center.

They'd monitored the wireless transmission between Galactica and Enceladus, for all the good that had come of the exchange. He'd even fought the urge to break in over the channel himself, thinking maybe his 'renowned' status as a Cylon War icon might do some good.

But no…

If the commander of the opposing Colonial warships was intent on carrying out his attack, then nothing short of full, by-the-book protocol would deter him.

"We have to do something, sir," said Cole, her voice almost pleading.

Looking across at her for a moment, seeing the near-desperation in her eyes, Adrian Kelso truly wished there was something he could do.

But, then again, maybe there was…

"Capshaw, get on the wireless," he snapped, glancing over his shoulder to his old Communications operator. "Order Asterica, Limnos and Kilkis to redeploy as best they can in a protective sphere around the transports. Our hulls are armored, can sustain more damage, maybe it will buy some time in case this madness gets out of control."

"Aye, Commander."

---

Warstar Galactica

"Sir, the decoms are redeploying around the transports."

"Very well," replied Sean Kelso.

It had to be his father's doing, he knew, redeploying the armored decoms to protect the civilian transports, but Commander Sean Kelso simply didn't have time to muddle with the details of it.

"One minute to engagement range," said Burke, reflexively gripping onto the plot table, bracing for ordnance impacts she was sure were about to come.

It was then that Commander Sean Kelso realized that he was doing the same thing as well.

Seconds continued to tick away, precious time; did he truly have the will to fire on fellow Colonials? Would they truly be leaving him with any alternative if they carried out their attack on the civilians?

There had to be another way…

"Frak it; helm, nose about hard a-Starboard," he snapped. "Keep us just outside their engagement range, wide turn, bring us back around in behind them after they pass."

"You're going to let them sail by, Commander?" asked Burke. "If we turn, we might not be able to catch back up to them before they've closed to engagement range on the civilians."

"Would you rather I fire on them?" replied Kelso flatly as he felt the massive ship begin to turn beneath his feet.

Turning away with little more than seconds to spare, Galactica and Enceladus remained just outside one another's weapons range as the Warstar began her wide turn away from the approaching Colonial warship.

---

Battlecruiser Enceladus

"Sir, their turn will bring them back in to our stern," called Lieutenant Thorpe.

"Maybe, but not before we've reached the primary targets," replied Runel evenly as he watched the massive ship turn away on DRADIS.

In spite of his even tone, Runel's doubt only deepened.

Why had they turned away? If they were Cylons, why turn away?

"Status of the fighters deployed around the convoy?" called Runel as he kept his eyes locked on DRADIS.

"Still holding air-defense positions around their fleet, sir," replied Thorpe, glancing over at Runel.

"Time to intercept of the main body?"

"Three minutes, sir."

---

Warstar Galactica

"Three minutes till they reach the civilian transports, sir," called Lieutenant Cortez.

"They'll be entering the maximum engagement range of Proteus before we're able to catch back up with them, sir," said Burke as she leaned in over the table. "She could turn to intercept them."

"There are two other maneuver elements out there, Major," replied Kelso evenly, his eyes locked on the screens overhead. "Proteus has to hold her position otherwise the civilians will be exposed from at least two other directions."

"True, but she will be in a position to fire some warning shots," countered Burke.

Glancing over to her, Kelso grinned slightly.

"Issue the order, Major; warning shots only."

"Aye, Commander."

---

Battlecruiser Enceladus

His brow furrowed in a scowl, Runel watched the dazzling, if ineffective barrage being laid down by one of the larger ships in the group ahead.

With just under two minutes to engagement range on the main body, one of the ships in the opposing flotilla had opened up with flak loads, directly, purposefully into the path of the approaching Enceladus.

"Warning shots?" he muttered, surprised, unsure. "Why the hell…"

If these were Cylons, they were sure giving him one hell-of-a mind frak.

Perplexed, doubt eating away at his resolve, Runel prepared to issue order to slow their approach…

Overhead, DRADIS suddenly let out a shrill alarm announcing two more contacts entering range.

"Contacts!" burst Lieutenant Thorpe. "Two contacts have just jumped into range, Colonel, by their DRADIS signature, two Cylon Basestars confirmed at one-three-zero carom five-five; range, eighty-two hundred-K."

---

Warstar Galactica

"Confirmed, Commander," snapped Lieutenant Cortez. "I ran the ID against the DRADIS files we copied from the civilian fleet; two Cylon Basestars CBDR at this time."

"Helm, change course, one-three-zero, bow up fifty-five," snapped Kelso evenly, a fresh dump of adrenaline surging into his system. "Major Burke advise all batteries to prep me a firing solution on the double."

"Aye, Commander."

Reaching down, Kelso snatched up the handset on the side of the plot table.

"Harris, raise me the Pacifica."

"You're on, sir."

"Galactica-Actual to Pacifica, prepare to initiate evasive maneuvers, Proteus will maintain cover of the formation but you need to try and make your way back down inside the nebula perimeter."

"We copy you, Galactica," replied his father over the wireless. "What about you?"

"This ship is going to do what she was designed to do," replied Sean Kelso evenly as he cast his eyes back up to the two, confirmed enemy ships on DRADIS. "She's going to attack."

---

Battlecruiser Enceladus

"The large ship is maneuvering into an attack posture against the Cylons, sir," called Lieutenant Thorpe. "The other ships are changing course, dropping back down within the nebula perimeter."

Dropping his head slightly, Runel took a deep breath. Which should he trust; his training or his instincts?

Doubt. Doubt got people killed. But so did blindly following rigid orders…orders which were written by men and women now long dead.

Thumping his clenched fist against the plot table, Runel cast his eyes back to DRADIS.

"Orders, Colonel?"

"I said we were going to attack the Cylons, and that's what I still aim to do, Lieutenant," he said evenly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the screen overhead. "Order Savitri to alter her approach, assume a defensive posture near those civilian ships and follow them down into the nebula."

"Aye, sir," snapped Thorpe, audibly relieved that Runel was breaking off the initial attack.

"Templeton, advise Adroa and Ikenga to come about, bring up our rear," continued Runel as he watched the large warship he'd almost been forced to engage bear down on the Cylon Basestars.

"Aye, sir."

"Helm, bring us about one-three-zero degrees, CBDR with the Cylon Baseships and advise fire control to ready a firing solution for the main batteries."

As a new wave of purpose swept over his CIC, Runel reached down and picked up the handset on his side of the plot table.

"Templeton, get me a wireless channel over to that big-fraking ship," said Runel evenly as he raised the handset to his ear.

---

Warstar Galactica

"Never thought I would ever say as much, but thank the gods for the fraking Cylons," muttered Commander Sean Kelso as he watched the Enceladus and the other ships break off their attack run on the civilian convoy.

"Sir, Enceladus is on the wireless for you," called Petty Officer Harris.

Quickly snatching up his handset, Kelso kept his eyes locked on the two Cylon Baseships as they rapidly neared Galactica's maximum engagement line.

"Glad to see you finally believe me," said Kelso evenly as he brought the handset to his ear.

"Jury is still out on you," replied the voice on the other end flatly. "For now, though, there's two Cylon Baseships out there and I aim to kill them."

At that, Commander Sean Kelso's lips curled a bit.

"Not if we kill them first," he replied.

"How do you want to play this?"

"Depends; what can you bring to the table ship-wise?"

"I've already ordered our carrier, the Savitri, into a defensive posture around your civilian convoy," replied the voice over the wireless. "Along with Enceladus, I have the Adroa and Ikenga coming about, but we'll both be fully engaged by the time they're able to bring their weapons to bear."

As he listened to the Enceladus' commander, Kelso snatched a printout lying on the plot table, flipped it over to the blank backside, grabbed the pen from his pocket and quickly began scribbling down a few quick notes.

"Well I appreciate the assist," said Kelso as he briefly glanced back up at DRADIS. "For further verification, give me type and status of the ships in your group."

"Savitri is a Combatstar carrying a heavy deck of Vipers and Raptors," replied Enceladus' CO. "Enceladus is an Erinyes Class BC; Adroa and Ikenga are both Ophan Class DD's."

"Copy that, Enceladus," replied Kelso as he finished scribbling down the latest info.

"Sir, both Port and Starboard flight deck report ready to launch our birds on your order," said Burke as she stood with her hand over the mic on her handset.

"Keep them on hot-standby, let's see how the Cylons react first," replied Kelso evenly as he glanced back up at DRADIS.

Two minutes to weapons range with the Cylons…

Enceladus pulling in another two minutes behind the Galactica…

"Okay, Enceladus, here's how we'll play this," began Kelso evenly as he set the pen down on the plot table. "Galactica will pull a hard-ninety turn parallel to the Cylon advance and lay down a full broadside barrage. And taking a page from your playbook, bring Enceladus in on their Starboard flank, with Adroa and Ikenga pulling off their Port. As long as your ships can maneuver into position before the Cylons recover from our initial volleys, we should be able to box them in and hit them from all three sides."

"New contacts, Commander!" snapped Lieutenant Cortez. "Cylon Baseships are launching Raiders; three hundred plus inbound!"

"Secondary batteries are coming up now, Commander," said Burke. "We'll be able to rake them with a full triple-A barrage the moment they reach engagement range."

"Sir, change in aspect and bearing on the Raiders," interjected Cortez. "Half of the Raider force has broken off and are inbound on the civilian convoy."

"Time to get our birds out of the tubes, Major," snapped Kelso as he watched half of the Cylon Raiders turn in towards the civilians.

Reaching down, Burke toggled the switch for the One-MC.

"This is the XO, launch all fighters, I say again, all fighters into the air; good hunting, people."

Within moments, the Warstar Galactica blossomed with dozens, tens of dozens of her own craft; her first combat sortie of Vipers.

"Major, order our Vipers to pursue the Raider force closing in on the civilians," snapped Kelso.

Burke paused.

If all their fighters broke off in pursuit of the Raiders closing on the civilians, there'd be none to help fend off the attack bearing down on Galactica.

Burke knew this.

Commander Sean Kelso knew this as well.

But Galactica was armed, the civilian ships, save for the protection provided by Proteus and Savitri, were not.

"Aye, sir," replied Burke evenly.

"The first Cylon Raiders will be on us in thirty-five seconds, Commander," called Lieutenant Cortez.

"Helm, zero-nine-zero turn a-Port," replied Kelso evenly. "Since they want to dance, we'll set the music."

---

Cylon Raider

Cutting a path through space, the sleek Raider, an entity unto itself, raced in towards the large Colonial Warship. Spreading out behind it, above it, to its sides were tens of dozens of similar craft. Aware, but not definably sentient, it nevertheless felt the rush, the thrill of the chase.

This was what it had been designed to do, this was what it longed to do; to hunt, to kill humans.

As it raced in towards its target, its enemy, the small cover plate over the front optical array slowly slid open, exposing the oscillating red eye so synonymous with everything it meant to be Cylon.

Like others had done before in so many other attacks against the humans, the racing fighter accessed that part of its consciousness that carried the computer override code signal which had already doomed billions of humans to nuclear oblivion.

As the Raider sent out the signal, its animalistic mind didn't anticipate anything so much as the base thrill of chasing down its prey.

Had its designers allowed the primitive Cylon mind that was the Raider's awareness to evolve into something approaching cognitive sentience, the Raider would have realized that the signal it had sent out had not had the intended effect on the massive Colonial Warship towards which it raced.

It would have realized that without that signal, the warship would still be operating as its human builders had intended. It would have realized that it was now flying directly into a veritable wall of cannon emplacements training in upon it.

It would have realized that it was about to commit suicide.

---

Warstar Galactica

"Commence fire, Major Burke," said Kelso evenly as he watched the first of the closing Raiders cross into Galactica's engagement zone.

As DRADIS began registering the blinding cannonade being laid down by the massive Warstar, Commander Sean Kelso couldn't help but begin to grin with absolute satisfaction.

Without any seeming regard for their own survival, the Raiders flocked en masse directly into the ship's firing solution, right into the withering barrage of heavy flak and armor-piercing triple-A shells that raced into the darkness of space.

Dozens, tens of dozens of the advancing Raiders were immediately ripped apart, shredded, pulverized. Those that survived the initial volley continued to penetrate deeper and deeper into a withering wall of shattering fire that quickly racked up a punishing toll on the Cylon fighters.

"I can't believe they just flew into it," muttered Burke, shaking her head slightly as she watched the Raiders continue their suicidal charge right into Galactica's baptismal barrage.

"Ten cubits to one they weren't expecting us to be able to fight back," replied Kelso evenly as he watched the Cylon Raiders continue to evaporate from DRADIS.

And then, quite suddenly, all the Raiders turned away.

"Fire control reports our fire has turned back their initial thrust, Commander," called Lieutenant Cortez.

"They're retreating!" burst Burke, her tone lost in disbelief as she leaned in over the plot table.

"But those Baseships are still coming on hard," countered Kelso as he watched the two imposing Cylon ships begin to open the distance in between them. "They're going to try and come in to our fore and aft."

"Enceladus will be in engagement range in less than four minutes," said Burke as she absently pointed up at the ship's icon on DRADIS.

"True, but if the Cylons manage to box us in fore and aft, we'll be inside Enceladus' firing solution right along with them," countered Kelso as his eyes narrowed in concentration. "I'd prefer not to play their game."

As he continued to mull over his options, Kelso's eyes drifted over to the visibly hairy engagement going on between the second force of Raiders and the Vipers launched from Galactica. As he watched, Kelso also noted that in spite of his orders, perhaps even on his father's orders, a large reinforcement force of Vipers were charging in from their position around the civilian fleet to join the fray.

Engaging the Cylons not on their terms, but on the Colonials' own terms…

"We could pull back, give Enceladus, Adroa and Ikenga time to close the distance and then engage the Cylons in force," offered Burke.

"If we pull back, the Cylons will be able to see why; I doubt they'll just allow themselves to be engaged while outnumbered two-to-one," replied Kelso evenly as his eyes drifted back over to the two Cylon Baseships closing in. "They're just as likely to just spin up their FTL's and jump away, return later with reinforcements. No, we need to end this right now on our terms."

As Burke stood there looking across the plot table at him, Commander Sean Kelso straightened up, gave his uniform tunic a curt tug, and focused his eyes in on DRADIS.

"Helm; ahead full flank speed, bring us around zero-nine-zero a-Starboard," began Kelso evenly as he slowly clasped his hands together behind his back. "If the Cylons want to be on either side of us, we'll oblige them."

"Aye, sir, answering all ahead flank speed," called Petty Officer Chapman as he input the commands into the helm. "Coming around zero-nine-zero to Starboard."

"That turn is going to take us in between them, Commander," muttered Burke as she leaned in closer over the plot table.

"Yes it will," replied Kelso lightly, his eyes never leaving DRADIS.

"They'll have us bracketed in a crossfire."

"But instead of just one broadside, we'll be able bring everything but our static bow emplacements to bear," countered Kelso evenly. "Take us up the center, Major."

"Aye, Commander," replied Burke evenly as she cast her eyes back up at DRADIS.

As the bow of the massive Warstar came around, the two Cylon Basestars gave no indication of countering the maneuver.

For a moment, Kelso wondered exactly whom was playing into whose hands.

No, he wanted to own this engagement.

As the turn quickly brought the new Galactica in between the two Basestars, the two ships suddenly erupted in a hail of new signals.

"Missiles inbound!" called Lieutenant Cortez. "Approximately forty-plus!"

"Brace for contact!" shouted Kelso as he reached over and gripped onto the plot table.

All around CIC, crewmembers likewise reached over and clutched a hold of their stations.

Even with all the ship's countermeasures enabled, it was inevitable that some of the missiles would still find their mark.

Even as several of the missiles veered away or around the massive Warstar, their guidance scrambled by electronic jamming, some of the missiles stayed true to their mark, at least twelve in total, slamming hard into the large warship's midsection to both Port and Starboard.

His grip on the plot table unwavering, Commander Sean Kelso's eyes never left DRADIS as the ship shuddered, weathering through her first enemy punches.

And she weathered them well.

"No damage, Commander," called Lieutenant Cortez as the shuddering abated.

"She's sturdy," muttered Burke, the surprise evident in her tone.

Finding Burke's comment unexpectedly annoying, Commander Sean Kelso glanced over at her momentarily.

"Primary fire control reports a firing solution for main batteries both to Port and Starboard, Commander," called Lieutenant Cortez as the Cylons launched off another volley of missiles.

"Commence fire, all main batteries, full salvo," replied Kelso evenly.

Even as another series of missile impacts reverberated through the Galactica, the ship replied in kind, launching off a punishing cannonade that tore through the two Basestars.

"Confirmed impacts on both targets, Commander," said Burke as she leaned in over the plot table.

"Now that they've had a taste, let's serve them the entrée," replied Kelso evenly. "Lock in firing solution, all batteries, fire for effect."

As the sound of Galactica's own weapons firing reverberated through CIC, increasing in tempo, Commander Sean Kelso watched in supreme satisfaction as the DRADIS returns indicated that the two Basestars were beginning to crumble.

Overwhelmed by Galactica's volume of fire, the two enemy warships suddenly began to turn, attempting to try and escape the punishing fire. Nevertheless, the focused attack from the Warstar's heavy emplacements kept pouring high explosive and armor-piercing ordnance into the two crumbling hulls.

With victory growing all but certain, the Battlecruiser Enceladus charged in, her bow emplacements delivering another punishing cannonade into one of the Basestars as her dorsal batteries swung around and opened up on the other with a full broadside.

Finally, the mounting destruction became too much for the enemy to withstand, with both Cylon Baseships succumbing within moments of one another, disappearing in dazzling explosions that lit up space around the two victorious Colonial warships.

The enemy vanquished, a surreal calm settled in over Galactica's CIC, a hesitant anticipation that hung over them for a moment.

"Status of Cylon Raiders?" asked Kelso evenly as he watched the radiation distortion from the destruction of the Basestars fade away into the background distortions generated by the nebula surrounding the twin pulsars.

"Our squadrons report the second Cylon Raider force has been smashed, Commander," replied Lieutenant Cortez a moment later. "All enemy forces have been destroyed."

With that, the tension around Galactica's CIC was shattered by shouts of unabashed jubilation.

With his crew around him shouting in celebration, Commander Sean Kelso let out a long, relieved sigh as he leaned forward over the plot table.

Glancing up, Kelso caught sight of Major Burke looking back across at him, gently shaking her head, a slight grin on her lips.

Slowly, she reached a hand across to him.

"You did it, Commander," she said.

"No, Major," replied Kelso evenly as he took hold of her hand. "We did it."

---

Serenity Valley
Sagittaron Colony

"Cease fire, cease fire!" shouted Captain Gaines over the din of gunfire echoing through the air.

After a few last sporadic shots, the air fell silent. Looking out past the trench line, Captain Gaines saw three chrome figures lying near the tree line at the bottom of the slope in the early morning light. Two were still, the third was twitching slightly, small sparks shooting out for a second or two from the bullet holes ripped in its torso.

"Team leaders, give me a report!" shouted Gaines as she watched the third Cylon Centurion finally fall still.

Crawling out of the trench, her wary gaze locked on the tree line, Gaines began making her way along the parapet as her Team Leaders called out the status of their people.

Thankfully, no one reported having any wounded.

Turning around, Gaines began to make her way back towards the courtyard at the center of the abandoned town of Serenity. In a very real sense, the area surrounding the town's old cistern had become her de facto command post. Centrally located, she was able to rush out to any point along the fortifications when contact with the enemy was made. As she stepped up to the old cistern, Gaines slowly brought her rifle around from her shoulder, cradling it as she put her hand on the cistern's wall and prepared to sit down.

"That's the fifth probe, Captain," said a grizzled old voice from behind Gaines.

Turning around, she found herself looking into the tanned and aged face of Corporal Marius, the old Marine chewing lightly on a long blade of grass between his teeth.

"Yeah, that's the fifth probe of our lines," sighed Gaines as she lowered herself down against the small brick wall around the cistern's opening. "At least we didn't lose anyone this time."

Reflexively, Gaines' eyes wandered over to the four bodies lined up beside one of the town's dilapidated structures. No flags, just an old poncho covered each of the still forms.

The first two had died during the first probe the Cylons had made of their lines roughly an hour after sunset the night before. Another had died during the second probe two hours later. The fourth had died, coincidentally, during the fourth probe by the Cylons.

"For better or worse, they'll probably leave us alone during the daylight," continued Marius as he looked out towards the growing light on the horizon. "Better to attack at night when they have the advantage of IR."

"That's a wonderfully insightful observation, Mister Marius," sighed Gaines as she leaned her head back and closed her tired eyes.

Realizing her tone had been a bit harsh, Gaines opened her eyes and looked back up at the old veteran.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Never mind the apology, Captain, it's not necessary," replied Marius evenly. "Hell, back during the war, I actually told a General to frak-off during the battle of Medra. Though looking back the General really didn't have much of a choice but to just let it go, after all, she was cowering down next to me in a fighting hole at the time."

At that, Captain Gaines chuckled softly.

"Nice to know even a General can be human," she muttered as she closed her eyes again.

"More than you know, Captain," replied Marius. "The General actually crapped her pants when a mortar shell landed a little too close for even my comfort."

Again, Gaines let out a chuckle.

"What happened to her?"

"Took a round right between the eyes," replied Marius as he casually tapped his forefinger against his forehead.

"Sorry I asked."

"Yeah, it wasn't a very pretty sight, then again, neither was she, not even after six months in the field," replied Marius as he pulled out a small ration package of nuts and began chewing on them. "Looking back though, that round might have actually improved her looks a little."

"I hope you're not trying to make some round-about comparison right now, Corporal," sighed Gaines as she sat, eyes shut, the gentle warmth of the rising sun starting to sweep across her.

"Not at all, Captain," sighed Marius as he continued to chomp down on a mouthful of nuts. "Haven't seen you cower yet."

"If that's your idea of a vote of confidence, you need to work on it a bit."

"To be blunt, Captain, if you're depending on me to buoy your confidence, you're looking at the wrong Marine for that job."

Tired as she was, Captain Gaines opened her eyes and looked back up at the wizened old face of Marius. His gaze was locked on the rising sun, his eyes distant.

"What exactly is the story with you anyways, Marius?" she sighed, gently shaking her head. "After the war, plenty of guys like you sat down, wrote out their memoirs or just tried their best to forget the war."

"Never much figured myself a writer, Captain," replied Marius evenly, his eyes still locked on the rising sun, the barest hint of a smile on his lips as he reached out, snatched up an long blade of grass and began to gnaw on it.

"That's not what I meant," sighed Gaines as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "From everything you've said about what happened here, everything your apparent protégé Mister Bowman has read about the battle that took place, I have a hell-of-a time trying to wrap my head around the idea that you would choose to come back."

"Well, Captain, suffice it to say I could tell you…"

"So why don't you?" shot Gaines pointedly.

Chuckling slightly, Marius reached up, grabbed the blade of grass, and tossed it to the ground.

"I could tell you, Captain," began Marius again. "But I don't think you would quite understand."

With that, Marius hefted up his weapon, the one he'd curiously named Vera, and slowly began making his way out to one of the parapets surrounding Serenity.

---

Corporal Dwayne Bowman slowly rose out of the cluster of bushes in which he'd taken shelter.

The sound of the not-so-far-off gunfire had echoed through the ravine for a little over two minutes. Faintly, he'd heard the voice of Captain Gaines calling out ceasefire and assumed that at least for the moment the defenses had held.

Not that the Cylons had really committed themselves to making a break through, thus far the nuisance attacks, the probes of the defensive lines around Serenity, had consisted of only two or three Centurions at a time.

How much longer the Cylons would be hitting them piecemeal was anyone's guess.

"Way above my pay grade," muttered Bowman as he looked back over his shoulder and motioned the rest of his team to get back on their feet.

"That's the fifth probe they've made," muttered Lance Corporal Sims as he looked warily around at the surrounding underbrush.

"I can count," muttered Bowman as he pulled out a compass and map.

"How much longer we going to be out here?" asked Lance Corporal Auric as he stood, rifle at the ready peering out into the thick canopy of trees.

"We've still got about four clicks to go," replied Bowman as he shot a resection off a nearby hilltop with the compass.

"One big circle," muttered Sims.

"Quit your bitchin'," said Bowman as he stuffed the map back inside his cargo pocket. "At least we haven't run into any Toasters."

"So say we all to that, Corporal," sighed Auric. "I thought there was supposed to be a clearing around here?"

"There is, just up ahead," replied Bowman as he dropped the compass back into a pouch on his gear. "We'll skirt the edge, remain in the thick for cover."

"Damn, I was hoping we might get out of this fraking brush for a bit," groaned Sims. "I swear to the gods, I've twisted my ankle three times."

"Open space makes a perfect kill-zone," muttered Bowman as he hopped up over a fallen stump and began making his way through the underbrush. "Now let's move, the sooner we finish this patrol, the sooner we can get some shut-eye."

With that, the three Marines set back off on the patrol route, making their way through the underbrush. In spite of their fatigue, the trio nevertheless kept their eyes on the surrounding forest for the merest hint of glinting metal in the early morning light.

Truth be told, if they'd run into Centurions, there was little they would be able to do. Even three on three, the new breed of Centurions that had been stalking them since the airfield would have them outmatched. The best they could hope for was to see the enemy first and get the drop on them before they could fire back.

Before long, Bowman, Auric and Sims reached the edge of the clearing they'd been looking for.

Taking a knee at the edge of the large open space, it at first seemed like nothing special, totally unremarkable; simply a small patch of land that someone, likely settlers from the long since abandoned town of Serenity, had cleared of trees, possibly for use in farming.

Reaching into his cargo pocket, Bowman again pulled out his map and compass.

As he again prepared to shoot a resection in order to verify his position on the map, Bowman caught sight of something in the clearing.

Not the glint of polished metal, but something that stuck him as odd nonetheless.

Quickly shooting the resection with his compass, Bowman verified that they were more-or-less on the assigned patrol route. As he stuffed the map and compass back away, Bowman returned his gaze to the object that had caught his attention.

"What you got?" muttered Auric, noting the attention Bowman was giving to the clearing.

"Hell if I know," muttered Bowman, shaking his head slightly.

"Looks like a bunch of rocks," said Sims as he too looked out into the open space.

"Looks like," muttered Bowman, glancing about the rest of the clearing.

"Well, you're the boss, if you've got a hunch, how do you want to play it?" asked Auric evenly as he settled in beside a tree stump.

Looking around the clearing, Bowman's gaze kept settling back in on the objects lying in the open. He could just dismiss it, continue the patrol, but Bowman couldn't help his nagging curiosity. Looking down at his rifle, Bowman pulled the bolt back just enough to verify that a round was in the chamber, then looked over at Sims and Auric.

"You two stay here, keep me covered, I'm going to snoop out there a take a quick look," said Bowman as he hunched down a bit and began stepping towards the edge of the clearing.

"Don't take too long," muttered Sims. "There's a nice little shady spot back in the town square I have my eye on for a nap when we get back."

"Just keep an eye out for Toasters," countered Bowman as he pushed his way into the tall grass.

With slow, deliberate steps, Bowman pushed his way into the clearing, the tall grass rustling a bit as he made his way forward. With the rising sun still just barely over the horizon, the early morning dew clung to his uniform, dampening it just enough that some of the budding grass seeds adhered to the black cloth.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Bowman barely saw Sims and Auric, the two hugging tight to the underbrush as their eyes alternated back and forth between him and the surrounding clearing, wary for any signs of the Cylons.

Content that his back was covered, Bowman pushed ahead the last couple of meters to the object that had caught his attention.

As he reached it, Bowman saw that Sims' description had been accurate, if incomplete.

Indeed, there was a large stone sitting there in the clearing, several smaller stones surrounding its base.

On the face of the large stone a symbol had been carved, rough as it was, but nevertheless recognizable as the temple emblem of the goddess Demeter.

Goddess of the Hearth and Motherhood…

And Goddess of the Blessed Afterlife…

With a chill running up his spine, Bowman realized the stone was the marker for a grave.

Glancing around, Bowman soon realized that the marker was not alone; others lay obscured beneath the grass, dozens more, perhaps a hundred.

With the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand up, Bowman suddenly realized where he was.

This wasn't just some random clearing in the forest; this was a graveyard.

As he stood there looking at the headstones, Bowman heard something in the air, a slight chiming, the gentle clang of metal on metal.

Not a Centurion, not mechanical, instead almost melodic in the early morning breeze, akin to a wind-chime.

Pushing further into the clearing graveyard, Bowman followed the sound to its source.

It was a pair of Colonial dog tags resting gently on one of the markers.

Reaching out, Bowman gently took hold of the tags, careful not to pull them free of the headstone.

Turning them over, he felt another chill run through his spine as he read the name.

Marius, Kieran, serial number one-two-zero-six-one-three.

For a moment, Bowman began to panic.

If this was the gravestone of Marius, then who the frak was the man claiming to be him back at Serenity?

No.

Looking down at the grave marker, Bowman saw that a name had been meticulously carved into the stone beneath the symbol of Demeter.

A name and an inscription…

Vera, so cherished in spirit, whose beauty and spirit in life outshined even the brightest stars in the heavens.

Letting the dog tags fall back against the stone marker, Bowman felt his heart racing.

"Vera?" he muttered, glancing about at the other stone markers.

Glancing down one last time at the tags as they again jangled in the breeze, Bowman hefted up his rifle and quickly made his way back over to Sims and Auric.

As he stepped back into the relative cover of the tree line, Bowman paused long enough to glance back over his shoulder.

"So, spill, Corporal, what was it?" asked Sims as he huddled down beside Bowman. "Or do I need to say please?"

"It's a graveyard," muttered Bowman as he pulled out the map.

"Told you the place gave me the creeps," muttered Sims as he glanced over at Auric.

"Let's just finish this patrol and get back into the perimeter," said Bowman as he oriented himself to the map.

As the trio set off again along the patrol route, Bowman cast one last look back over into the clearing, at the headstones, at Vera's headstone.

To be sure, Marius had a secret, on the face of it, one that might be poetic, but one that presented questions the old veteran needed to answer.

---

Warstar Galactica
Final Approach to Torvik Fleet Anchorage

Gently drumming his fingers on the plot table, Commander Sean Kelso watched as the massive Warstar Galactica finished the final turn on approach to the Torvik Anchorage, the fleet supply depot nestled deep within the pulsar wind nebula surrounding the dual pulsars known as Leto's Twins.

In spite of the significant interference, Kelso was able to discern the long line of vessels, active and decom, civilian and military alike as they followed the large warship through the narrow channel plotted through the blinding nebula.

With the ship's first engagement behind them, Commander Sean Kelso tried not to reflect too much on anything so much as finding the path forward. While none of the ships themselves, either civilian or military, had suffered any casualties during the battle, a total of twenty-one Vipers had been lost in their first head-on tangle with the Cylons as a unified group.

Military fact told him that the deaths were unavoidable, even so, Sean Kelso the only solace he was able to glean from the engagement lay with how mercifully few those losses were considering the potential catastrophe that could have been had he not acted.

Overhead, DRADIS flared with an intense pulse of energy from one of the pulsars, followed a moment later by the gentle shaking of the vessel itself; the minor gravity flux of the pulsar's rotation.

"I thought this was supposed to be the eye of the storm," muttered Burke as she held firm to the plot table.

"It took eight months to plot this entry corridor, Major," replied Kelso evenly as he watched the massive signature of Torvik Anchorage emerge from the interference on DRADIS. "Four Raptors were lost during the survey. Believe me, this is the eye of the storm."

Another shudder passed through the warship as DRADIS flared yet again.

"For better or worse, just be glad you're aboard the Galactica," continued Kelso evenly. "Those civvies are probably weathering a great deal more chop."

"I've located the primary docking collar for the Torvik Anchorage, Commander," called Lieutenant Cortez.

"There should be three more," replied Kelso evenly. "Harris, get on the wireless and advise Proteus, Savitri and Enceladus to go ahead and dock at the other three."

"Aye, Commander."

His eyes locked on DRADIS, Kelso watched as Galactica, Enceladus, Savitri and Proteus all maneuvered in and docked with the massive station.

"Major Burke, go ahead and call down to Chief Copeland and verify that she's got the resupply teams ready to move aboard the station," began Kelso as the indicators showed the Galactica had achieved a firm seal with the station airlock.

As Burke reached down and picked up the handset on her side of the plot table, Kelso made his way over to Harris at the Communications station.

"Harris, get on the wireless and advise all ship commanders to rendezvous aboard Galactica as soon as we've completed the docking maneuver."

"Aye, sir."

Making his way back over to Burke, Kelso glanced back up at DRADIS.

"Copeland and her people are ready to start moving the supplies aboard, sir," said Burke as she too looked up to DRADIS. "Putting a CAP up is going to be a bitch in that much chop."

"Hold off on the Vipers," replied Kelso evenly as he watched the interference on the screen. "No point risking the loss of any of our birds when we don't have to. As soon as Copeland's people have started moving the supplies aboard, order the Adroa and Ikenga into a blocking position on this side of the chute."

"Getting a firm fix on anything coming down the corridor is going to be difficult at best," noted Burke as she glanced over at Kelso.

"All the more reason to have the two destroyers watching the door for us," replied Kelso as he turned and began making his way towards the CIC entryway. "As soon as the other ship commanders are aboard, advise them that I've gone over to the station to oversee the resupply, have them meet me there."

"Understood, Commander."

---

Although he'd been a part of the engineering team that had overseen the construction of the Torvik Anchorage some years before, Commander Sean Kelso had to admit, if only to himself, that he'd forgotten just how large the facility was.

Capable of resupplying literally four full Battlestar groups, the Torvik facility dwarfed other resupply depots. Stepping into the primary staging hall, Commander Sean Kelso found himself straining to see the figures on the gantries high overhead, the outlines of his crewmembers difficult to discern against the cavernous backdrop.

"Commander!"

Her voice echoing out through the space, Commander Sean Kelso turned to see Chief Petty Officer Maria Copeland as she stepped out from behind a sizeable stack of ordnance pallets.

"Commander, I didn't expect to see you over here watching us knuckle-draggers at work," said Copeland as she stepped up to him. "Hope this doesn't mean you intend to micromanage every little detail, respectfully, sir."

"Not at all, Chief," smiled Kelso as he looked back out at the myriad of crewmembers setting about the task of moving the literal mountain of supplies. "Just consider me a spectator."

"Not exactly a Pyramid match here, but whatever suits the Commander," shrugged Copeland as she turned her attention to a cluster of crewmen attempting to move a pallet. "If you'll excuse me, sir."

"By all means, Chief."

"Hey, watch out with that lift!" barked Copeland as she stepped away. "You drop those warheads you'll send up this entire fraking station!"

Chuckling slightly, but frankly none-too-concerned, Commander Sean Kelso was content to watch as the work moved forward. His hands clasped behind him, he began pacing along the periphery of the activity as the first of several pallets began making their way out of the cavernous area towards the Galactica.

As he watched the activity, Kelso caught sight of his CAG, Major Culver, as the man stepped up to Chief Copeland. Although he couldn't hear what the two were saying to one another over the din of the activity, it was plain that something had Culver particularly excited.

He was about to step over to them when Copeland herself turned and pointed over to Kelso, both her and Major Culver quickly making their way over to them.

"Major Culver, you look a bit out of breath," began Kelso as Culver and Copeland stepped up to him. "Did you go for a jog or something?"

"Not quite, Commander," replied the almost breathless Culver, a small grin creeping across his lips.

"The Major found something you might be interested in, Commander," interjected Copeland as she lightly tapped Culver on the back with her clipboard.

"What's that?"

"Vipers, sir," said Culver, his grin growing even wider. "There are Vipers on sublevel four."

---

Even as the overhead lights in that section of corridor flickered to life, half a dozen crewmembers continued their way forward to the large doorway at the end of the passage. As they reached it, one crewmember hefted up a sizeable pair of bolt cutters and with the aid of two others, quickly snapped the large lock on the door. As it fell to the deck with a large thud, the other crewmembers fought to open the sizeable doorway.

With each space nominally sealed from one another in case of emergency decompression, the door took a bit of effort to open, but nevertheless swung wide after several moments of concerted effort. As the swinging doors kicked up a thin layer of dust, the small team tentatively stepped inside, Chief Copeland making her way over to a series of switches on the bulkhead. Tripping the circuits for the lights, the assemblage watched as overhead flood lamps within the compartment flickered to life.

As he stood there with the others, Commander Sean Kelso watched as the light began casting shadows down onto the rows of tarp-covered figures. As the dust continued to swirl gently around their feet, Kelso slowly stepped forward, followed closely by Major Culver. Stepping up to one of the tarps, both Kelso and Culver took hold of one edge, and with some effort, pulled it free, revealing the sleek and unmistakable form of a Viper. Letting the tarp fall to the ground, the two of them began slowly making their way around the revealed fighter.

"Looks like a Mark Four," muttered Culver as he ran his hand along the distinctive nose. "Why would there be Mark Four's at a reserve depot?"

"Someone at Headquarters must have gotten behind on his inventory review," muttered Copeland as she glanced around the area.

"From what I understand, some of the civilians aboard the Proteus are flying reconditioned Mark Two's," stated Kelso evenly as he too ran his hand along one of the triangular wings. "Times like this we can't be too picky, Major."

"Found the manifest, Commander," announced Chief Copeland as she stepped up with a binder she'd pulled from a shelf beside the switches.

"What's the book say we have, Chief?" asked Kelso as he looked out along the other tarp-covered outlines.

"Forty Mark Four Vipers; ten Raptors; four Mark Two shuttles, and frak me, ten Warthog dropships."

"That's a respectable amount of firepower," muttered Kelso evenly. "Make sure they make it aboard safely, Chief."

"Aye, Commander."

As Chief Copeland pulled out a portable handheld wireless set and called over to Galactica for additional crewmembers, Major Culver stepped up behind Kelso.

"Not to sound ungrateful or anything, sir, but we don't have any spare pilots for these birds," said Culver.

"Most CAGs would be overjoyed to have a few spare ships on the deck," smiled Kelso as he glanced over at Culver.

"Spares are good, sir," replied Culver instantly. "But right about now we could use the actual hitting power."

Taking a deep breath, Kelso returned his gaze to the rows as Copeland and two other crewmen began pulling the tarps from a few more of the dormant ships, the Chief checking the serial numbers on the tails with the manifests in the binder.

"So far we've been pretty lucky, Major," began Kelso as he continued to watch the activity. "At least as lucky as anyone could be under these circumstances. Like everything else, we'll just take this one step at a time. We'll load the birds for now and find the pilots when we can."

"Aye, sir."

---

Torvik Anchorage
Main Staging Hall

As he stepped back out into the main staging hall of Torvik Anchorage, Commander Sean Kelso was pleasantly surprised to see the almost feverish efforts by the myriad of personnel had begun to show results. It had been just over an hour since they'd first opened the airlocks into Torvik, but already a sizeable amount of materiel had already been moved out of the cavernous space.

As he continued to move along the service alleys between the stacked pallets of munitions and supplies, Kelso quickly realized that along with personnel from Galactica, including those rescued from the Heracles, there were now work details moving about sporting patches from several other ships as well.

Enceladus…

Savitri…

Republica…

Each ship patch similar in design but distinct in its color scheme. Stopping several times, stepping aside to allow crewmembers to pass with pallets of supplies, Kelso nevertheless continued to make his way back towards the main airlock back to the Galactica.

As he came around one last stack of munitions, Kelso caught sight of Chief Copeland conversing with a small assemblage of Colonial Officers and civilians. Most he already recognized as the various commanders from the refugee flotilla, including his father. The others were presumably the commanders from the recently arrived Colonial warships.

Glancing over her shoulder in time to see Kelso approaching, Chief Copeland motioned the unknown officers towards him as he continued making his way over.

"Commander, thought I'd have to send out a search detail for you," joked Copeland as Kelso stepped up to the assemblage.

"If I ever got lost, I'd just need to listen for your hollering, Chief, and I'd be sure to find my way back," replied Kelso as he turned to face the newly arrived officers. "I'm Commander Sean Kelso, commander of the Warstar Galactica."

With that, he extended a hand to the nearest of the group, a Colonel from the insignia on her collar.

"Colonel Brianna Webber, Combatstar Savitri," replied the woman evenly as she turned and motioned her head towards another officer in the group, also a Colonel. "This is our group commander…"

"Colonel Thadius Runel, Commander," began the man as he in turn reached over and took hold of Kelso's hand. "CO of the Battlecruiser Enceladus."

"Enceladus, eh," smiled Kelso as he briskly shook the man's hand. "You mean that stout little warship that threatened to put a salvo into my ship?"

"Little?" muttered Runel, a momentary scowl crossing his features. "Maybe in relation to that monster you're helming, Commander, but we've managed to hold our own thus far in a fight."

"Of that I have no doubt, Colonel," replied Kelso as he stepped aside to allow a resupply team by. "Maybe we should move this little gathering to a less-crowded location, before we get run over. If you'll follow me, please."

---

Stepping into the Command Operations Center of Galactica, Commander Sean Kelso was struck momentarily by the contrast between this space and the Command Operations Center aboard his father's vessel, the Pacifica. Fifty years of warship design and hard-learned lessons separated the two ships, and yet there was still an air of similarity. Newer perhaps, different color scheme, less austere, more lights and computer screens, but nevertheless fulfilling the same function; conference room slash gods' eye view of the battlefield.

As his observations gave way back to the here-and-now, Sean Kelso continued his way through the large space, the other ship commanders following close on his heels, quickly filing into the compartment and stepping up around the massive combat operations board.

Quickly looking around at the assemblage, Commander Sean Kelso had half a moment where he wondered just how cliché having everyone there must have seemed. Mentally shrugging off the thought, however, he looked out at the assembled faces.

"Since we will hopefully have ample time to get to know one another later, and since time itself right now is running at a premium, I suggest we forgo the social foreplay and get right into the thick of business," stated Kelso evenly. "Colonel Runel, go ahead and give us the run down on your situation."

"For the sake of brevity, I'll leave the details for you to read in my after-action reports, Commander," began Runel as he too leaned in over the table. "Suffice it to say, we've had our fair share of 'excitement' since the attack began."

With that, Colonel Runel quickly went over the events that had brought his group to Torvik; the orders detaching them from escort of the Battlestar Galactica, the first engagement with the Cylons out at Armistice Station, the next engagement at Rhapsody Station and rescue of Savitri, the engagement at the Ragnar Anchorage and fate of the Republica and her crew.

"Sounds like you've been busy the last couple of days, Colonel," said Commander Sean Kelso evenly. "You and your people have my sincere respect on taking out two Baseships."

"On behalf of my crew, I thank you for that, sir," sighed Runel as he glanced over at Webber. "But, I'd be lying if I said that our journey has been without cost."

"Of that I have no doubt," replied Kelso soberly. "But the accomplishments of you and your people are impressive nonetheless."

"Sir," nodded Runel.

"Now, I do have a question," began Kelso, taking a deep breath. "Considering you weren't aware of our presence here at Torvik, what course of action had you originally planned to take once you'd resupplied your ships?"

"Originally, I had intended to link back up with the Galactica, Commander," began Runel evenly. "The Battlestar Galactica, that is, sir."

"Are you saying she survived the attack as well?" asked Adrian Kelso, himself also leaning in over the plot table as he stood beside his son.

"We have reason to believe so, sir, yes," replied Runel. "The first day of the attack, we picked up a communiqué sent by Commander Adama ordering all surviving units to rendezvous at Ragnar Anchorage, that's why we went to that location following the evac from Rhapsody Station."

"But you said you found the Republica there, not Galactica," chimed in Commander Sean Kelso evenly.

"True, sir, but we did rescue two pilots from the Galactica after the Cylons withdrew," continued Runel. "They indicated to us that Commander Adama and the Galactica were providing escort for a fleet of civilian ships that arrived at Ragnar not long after the attack began."

"Nice to know we aren't the only ones to make it out of this Cylon mess," interjected Paul Bess. "Did these pilots have any idea where Commander Adama was escorting these civilian ships to?"

"According to the pilots, the President of the Colonies ordered little short of a complete abandonment of the war effort," stated Runel, taking a deep breath as he attempted to stretch his aching back a bit. "Galactica and the civilian ships have withdrawn completely from Colonial territory."

"Any indication where Galactica may have withdrawn to?" asked Sean Kelso evenly.

"Not an exact location, no, but somewhere in the Prolmar sector," replied Runel.

"But President Adar is with the civilian fleet?" asked Bess.

"Not President Adar, no," replied Colonel Webber evenly, casting a sideways glance towards Runel.

"But you said the President…" began Bess, his voice suddenly trailing off as he glanced over at Commander Sean Kelso.

"Case Orange?" asked Sean Kelso, raising an eyebrow slightly, somewhat weary of the answer he'd get as he glanced over at Runel.

"Affirmative, sir," replied Runel, gently nodding his head.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but just how far down the line of succession?" asked Adrian Kelso evenly.

"Secretary of Education, sir, Laura Roslin," answered Runel with the barest hint or a smirk.

"You're fraking kidding?" burst the elder Kelso.

"I said just about the same thing," replied Runel, grinning slightly. "But, that is where we are, I suppose."

"Indeed," muttered Sean Kelso evenly as he paused, slowly nodding his head as he thought the situation over. "You say Commander Adama jumped his fleet out to the Prolmar sector?"

"Yes, sir."

"Even if you were hot on their trail, the Prolmar sector is a lot of territory to search for one lone Battlestar," noted Sean Kelso as he looked back over to Runel. "Three days after the fact, the chances of finding them now are approaching nil."

"Granted, sir," replied Runel, nodding his head momentarily. "But with all due respect, Commander, do you have a better plan in mind?"

Taking a deep breath, Commander Sean Kelso glanced around at the other faces assembled around the large operations table, his gaze finally settling on his father.

For his part, the elder Kelso gave only the slightest of shrugs.

"Strength in numbers," offered Adrian Kelso.

Looking back out across the table, Commander Sean Kelso began lightly drumming his fingers on the tabletop, much to the muted amusement of his father. Slowly looking around at the expectant faces assembled there, the younger Kelso thought the situation over.

"If we do attempt to locate the Battlestar Galactica, we ourselves will be admitting that the Colonies, our homes, are irrevocably lost," began Paul Bess evenly as he too slowly looked around to each of the faces around the table. "Are we prepared to do that?"

"Would we all be huddled up aboard a handful of ships if we weren't ready to admit as much?" interjected one of the civilian liner captains, the one Kelso knew simply as Captain 'Jack'. "Let's be honest with ourselves here for a moment; our homes are gone, nothing left but radioactive debris. Are the charred cinders that were the Colonies worth risking the few of us who remain, especially considering we can't hope to match the Cylons militarily?"

Slowly, the heads around the table began to nod, a silent but pained concession to that point.

"Far be it for me to ever delve into any subject that might be construed as religious," began Paul Bess evenly as he took a deep breath. "But let us just try and keep in mind, gods aside, humanity is no stranger to exodus. As we all know well, life here on the Colonies began out there on Kobol."

"And so long as we have the courage to take the step, who's to say it might not yet be able to continue and thrive somewhere else?" interjected Adrian Kelso evenly.

Glancing over at his father, Commander Sean Kelso took a deep, steadying breath.

"However, in the end, this is your decision…," continued Adrian Kelso as he looked back to his son. "…Commander."

And with that, the die had been all but cast.

It was not so much his father had seemingly placed this burden in his hands as it was the underlying truth of the situation that they faced; should they fight or should they flee?

This was a decision that had to be made with finality.

And as his father had been so clear to point out, a fleet could only have one Commander.

Looking back around at the officers and civilians around the table, Commander Sean Kelso realized, much to his own profound surprise, that they were all waiting for him alone to make the decision. Letting out a long sigh, Commander Sean Kelso straightened up, looked one last time around at them, then gently clasped his hands behind his back.

"Once we have completed resupplying here at Torvik Anchorage…" he began, drawing in one last resolute breath. "…all ships will make preparations for FTL jump to the Prolmar sector where we will attempt to link up with the Battlestar Galactica and her group."

The decision made, Commander Sean Kelso felt, curiously, as though a weight had been lifted from him, a catharsis not dissimilar from the one he'd felt when he'd first decided to bring his own Galactica back into Colonial territory to search for survivors.

A plan, any plan, was better than uncertainty.

"Okay, if there is nothing else, I thank you for coming, get back to your ships and make them ready to get back underway," finished Commander Kelso.

With that, the large assemblage began to disperse back out the entryway.

Turning to his father, Sean Kelso couldn't help but gently shake his head as he looked into his father's face.

"Should I thank you now or later for dropping that particular hot rock in my lap?" smirked Sean.

"One fleet, one Commander," replied the elder Kelso evenly. "Last I checked, you had the biggest ship around so…"

With his father's voice trailing off, Sean Kelso noted the curious look on Adrian's face, and following his gaze, turned around to see that Director Paul Bess stood with Captain "Jack" at one end of the table while Colonel Runel stood at the other end, all of them watching each other rather curiously, even expectantly.

After a moment of glancing back and forth at the lingering men, Sean Kelso motioned them all closer.

"Can I presume since you are all still here there's something on each of your minds that you didn't want to discuss in front of the others?" asked Sean Kelso evenly as the much smaller ensemble stepped in around him.

"I can't speak for Colonel Runel, but Jack Foster and I did have something, yes," stated Paul Bess evenly.

"Foster, okay, good, Jack Foster," muttered Sean Kelso, eliciting a somewhat perplexed glance.

"Commander?"

"Your name, Captain Foster, forgive for saying as much, but your name had slipped my mind before," amended Sean Kelso. "I was beginning to think I'd be doomed to referring to you simply as Captain 'Jack'."

"Oh, I see," mumbled Foster, still apparently half-confused by the explanation. "In any case, Director Bess and I were just curious what you planned to do, if anything, about those Marines we spoke about earlier."

"And what exactly do you think I should be doing?"

"You said it yourself, Commander," interjected Bess evenly. "That gunship crew you picked up said they got away from the airfield, they could very well still be holding up somewhere on Sagittaron."

"Are you suggesting a rescue operation?"

"I think we owe it to them to try, sir, yes," replied Foster evenly

Taking a deep breath, Commander Sean Kelso leaned back against the table as he looked over at Bess and Foster.

"Gentlemen, as much as I hate to say it, any information we have on the status of those Marines is stale at best," stated Commander Sean Kelso. "Under the circumstances, it's as good as worthless; not only do we not know that they're still alive, we can't even be certain of where they might be holding out if they are alive."

"We could send out a recon mission," offered Foster. "Hell, if it would help, I'll fly it myself; I was certified in Raptors long before I starting flying that civilian crate."

"Forgive me for butting in, but what exactly are you two gentlemen talking about?" interjected Colonel Runel, casting a curious glance over to Bess and Foster.

"When we evacuated from Sagittaron, we were forced to leave a sizeable Marine ground team behind when the airfield came under attack," replied Bess. "A Scimitar gunship broke up the Cylon attack, allowing the Marines to retreat."

"We picked up the Scimitar crew after they mistakenly jumped out to our location at the testing range," continued Commander Kelso.

"In any event, I think we should try and retrieve them before we jump out to the Prolmar sector," interjected Bess.

"And believe me, I can appreciate that sentiment, Paul, but my son…" began Adrian Kelso, pausing. "…but the Commander is correct, we have no way of knowing if they're even still alive."

"Even sending a recon mission is risky," finished Sean Kelso evenly, apologetically. "We have no intel on enemy activity in the area, we have no idea where the Marines might have escaped to, and we have no way of attempting to communicate with them that wouldn't compromise a recon mission."

"Actually, Commander, if I may, that might not be the case," began Colonel Runel, an almost bemused expression on his face.

Unexpected as it was, Runel's statement drew not only the attention from Foster and Bess, but from both Kelso's as well.

"I take it you have a suggestion, Colonel?" asked Bess evenly.

"Better," replied Runel, almost chuckling. "In fact, it's what I was waiting to discuss with the Commander myself."

"I'm not sure I follow you, Colonel," said Commander Sean Kelso flatly.

"The Marines that Director Bess was forced to leave behind," continued Runel, smirking slightly. "I might just know where they are."

---

Serenity Valley
Sagittaron Colony

"Thank you for the report, Corporal," said Captain Gaines as she began folding her map back up. "Go ahead and get you people some chow and rest, but be prepared to take over post five in about four hours so Kaplan can prep his people for their patrol."

"Aye, Captain," replied Bowman as he stood up, slung his rifle and began making his way over towards one of the old buildings where Sims and Auric had flopped themselves down.

Although it was still well before noon, between exhaustion and the high humidity, Bowman felt sapped of energy as he dropped the bulk of his gear down beside the two other members of his team. Nevertheless, after passing on the order to get some chow and rest to Sims and Auric, Bowman began searching the area for Marius.

Although he'd passed on the information regarding the location of the graveyard itself to Captain Gaines, Bowman had withheld the information regarding the dog tags and the grave marker he'd seen.

For his part, he wanted speak with Marius about it first.

After wandering around the parapets for nearly an hour, he finally caught sight of the old Marine over near one of the heavy machine gun positions.

Crouched down with the team manning the gun, Marius was apparently well involved in reciting some old war story, for as Bowman approached, all of them let go with a loud, boisterous laugh.

"And that was the last time I ate the corned beef hash," chuckled Marius, whatever story he'd been telling making the two Marines he'd been speaking too grimace slightly, as the old Marine glanced up and noted Bowman's approach. "Ah, Corporal Bowman, glad to see you made it back from your patrol."

"Corporal Marius, I was wondering if I could discuss something with you right quick," said Bowman evenly as he motioned for Marius to step over towards one of the abandoned structures.

Stepping inside, as much to get out of the sun as for privacy, Bowman slowly turned back to Marius.

"So what's on your mind, Corporal Bowman?" asked Marius evenly as he stood there just barely inside the entryway.

"Vera," replied Bowman flatly.

Slowly, Marius slid the weapon down off his shoulder, held it in his hands, his expression somewhat dubious, curious.

"What do you want to talk about my weapon for?" asked Marius evenly as he stood there, almost cradling the rifle.

"Not your rifle, Marius," countered Bowman, holding Marius' gaze. "The real Vera."

For a moment, Marius didn't respond, his expression going almost blank.

"Out on our little nature walk today, my team came across a clearing," continued Bowman as he held Marius' gaze. "Never expected I would find a graveyard there."

In an instant, Marius' blank expression gave way first to fear, then anger.

"You little son-of-a-bitch, you'd better not have disturbed that area, you had no right..!"

"We came across the graveyard by accident, might not have if you'd fraking told us it was there in the first place!" snapped Bowman, pausing when he realized that his voice had attracted the attention of the two Marines manning the machinegun post just outside. "Now, I told the Captain the graveyard was there, but not about Vera's grave marker, or your dog tags. But, I will unless you convince me right now that I shouldn't."

Angry, clearly fuming inside, Marius stood there glaring across at Bowman. On the one hand, it clearly infuriated Marius that his little secret, whatever the actual details were, had been at least somewhat found out. But as his anger slowly gave way to resignation, Marius bowed his head slightly.

"Vera was my wife," he finally said, his tone growing somber. "She died when the Cylons attacked Serenity, along with our unborn daughter."

Somewhat surprised by the revelation, Bowman took a couple tentative steps towards Marius.

"Is that why you never left here, why you stayed after the war ended?"

"Mostly, yes," replied Marius meekly as he turned and looked out the entryway towards the forest beyond. "Truth is, with them gone I had no real reason to return to what you call 'civilization'."

"Lots of people lost loved ones during the war, you could have tried," offered Bowman.

"You don't understand, Bowman," replied Marius, shaking his head slightly. "Back during the war, the Cylons hit a lot of targets, constantly, routinely. Every time they did, defending places like Serenity dropped further and further down on command's list of priorities."

Turning around to face Bowman, Marius was clearly pained.

"When I learned that the Cylons had landed a force near here, I knew that command wasn't going to 'waste' their effort on defending such a small hamlet, in order to hold the depot, they'd already written Serenity and all its residents off," stated Marius, his tone taking on a bitter edge.

"But command sent the Two-Hundred-and-First and the Fifty-Seventh up here to defend the pass," countered Bowman.

"No, they didn't," replied Marius flatly. "The Two-Hundred-and-First marched their way into Serenity Valley because I had taken the Regimental CO hostage and brought him here."

"You what?" sputtered Bowman, making no attempt to hide his shock at Marius' revelation.

Nodding his head slightly, Marius slowly sat down in the entryway, cradling his rifle in his arms.

"The CO's orders had been to hold at the depot and defend the perimeter," continued Marius. "When I found out they were content to let the Cylons slaughter everyone in Serenity just to hold some damned line on a map, I knew I had to do something."

"And taking the CO hostage seemed the proper solution?"

"At the time, yes."

"So they followed you up here in order to rescue the Regimental Commander?"

"Yes," nodded Marius as his eyes glazed over a bit from whatever memories were filtering through his mind. "But by the time they caught up with us here in Serenity to rescue him the Cylons were already on the move down the valley."

"If what you're saying is true, why isn't it in any of the history books?"

"After the war, the battle took on an almost mythic status," began Marius, a sardonic smile crossing his lips as he lightly shook his head. "In spite of the casualties, it was great press for the Corps; Marines making a gallant stand, fighting to the last to defend a poor hamlet of lowly Sagittarians."

"They turned a criminal act, hell and act of treason, into a PR campaign?"

"Wars need heroes," muttered Marius somewhat bitterly. "And myths are hard to shatter once they've taken hold in the public's imagination."

"And what about you?"

"Battles like that, most people just count the bodies when it's said and done," stated Marius with a slight shrug. "I just allowed myself to become lost in the aftermath. War was over, so I just disappeared."

"And you stayed here."

"My wife and child died because I couldn't..," began Marius, the threat of tears evident in his voice. "…because I failed to protect them. There's no 'moving on' when your wife and unborn child die because you couldn't save them."

Taking a deep breath, Bowman stood watching Marius, looking at the old man's slumped shoulders as he sat in the entryway.

"So what happens now?" asked Marius, his eyes still locked on the distant forest.

Slinging his weapon up onto his shoulder, Bowman let out a long sigh.

"What happens now is that I'm going to get some rest before I go back out on post," replied Bowman evenly as he stepped past Marius out into the mid-morning heat.

"And the Captain, what do you plan to tell her?"

Turning back around, Bowman looked over at Marius.

"History says the Marines held this valley to defend the people of this town from the Cylons," began Bowman evenly. "And like you said, myths are a hard thing to shatter. Frankly I'm too tired to try. I'll keep your secret, but only until you give me a reason not to. Are we clear?"

"We're clear, Corporal Bowman," replied Marius.

With that, Bowman turned and began making his way back towards Sims and Auric, intent on getting some sleep.

---

Warstar Galactica
Command Operations Center

"Based on the wireless fix, they're holed up here in Serenity Valley," stated Colonel Thadius Runel as he pointed down at the chart.

"That's your backyard, Paul, do you know that area very well?" asked Adrian Kelso as he glanced over to the Sagittaron Depot's former Director, Paul Bess.

"Not as well as I'd like," replied Bess evenly as he leaned in over the chart. "Most of that area was declared a historical preserve after the war by the Sagittaron government; no entrance, strictly no-fly. Except for satellite passes, I doubt there's been any intel on that area in decades."

"What can you tell us?" asked Sean Kelso as he too leaned in over the chart.

"Mountainous terrain, dense forest, this time of year a little thicker due to the spring bloom," stated Bess as he continued to ponder the chart. "Except for the depot and the community, it's hundreds of kilometers removed from any population centers. If they made it there, they should have a good chance of holding out, for a while at least."

"At least until prevailing wind patterns start pushing more fallout over that area," continued Runel.

"That is, presuming the Cylons haven't already found them," amended Adrian Kelso evenly.

"Intel is a couple hours old, but under these circumstances it's about as good as any we could expect," countered Runel evenly.

"What about enemy forces and disposition, did your Raptor get any hard data of the Cylons themselves?" asked Sean Kelso as he leaned back against a rail surrounding the upper gallery. "If we do go in, what kind of resistance could we be looking at?"

"At last report, six Baseships confirmed in dispersed orbital positions on the near side of the planet, two within ten minutes orbital transition," replied Runel evenly. "Each Baseship appears to be supporting between three and five full squadrons of Raiders."

At that, Adrian Kelso let out a long whistle, shaking his head gently.

"That's a lot of firepower," muttered Bess. "And there could still me more Cylons lurking on the far side out of direct DRADIS range."

"What about maneuvering a ship back in amongst the derelict fleet in orbit?" offered the civilian liner captain, Jack Foster.

"No good," replied Adrian Kelso evenly, shaking his head. "After you all jumped, the Cylons realized we'd been using the derelicts to hide our escape, they ripped the remaining hulks to shreds."

"There's bound to still be some debris, enough to muck up DRADIS," offered Runel.

"But jumping a ship into that much chaotic movement is risky at best," countered Sean Kelso. "We simply can't afford to lose a whole ship in a collision with a tumbling hulk."

"So we have to find another way," said Foster evenly. "What about sending in a Raptor force?"

"We could be looking at as many as three hundred and fifty Marines and civilians down there," stated Bess evenly.

"That's at least, conservatively, thirty-five to forty Raptors," muttered Sean Kelso as he stood there, arms crossed, mulling.

"Didn't I see some of your deck gang moving over some heavier Warthog dropships?" asked Runel. "They're older, but they should be able to retrieve a good chunk of those troops with no trouble what-so-ever."

"They could, except that we have no pilots aboard right now qualified to fly them," replied Sean Kelso, shaking his head lightly. "An active mission is a bad time to be learning your ship's controls."

"So we're back to sending in a force of Raptors," interjected Bess.

"They could jump in intra-atmo," offered Jack Foster. "Radiation from the bombardment should mask them from orbital detection."

"True, but the Scimitar we picked up reported Cylon Raiders operating within the atmosphere," replied Sean Kelso. "If they are still flying patrols over the target, and we should assume as much if they're searching for our Marines on the ground, those Raptors would be easy pickings, especially loaded down with personnel and gear. They'll need fighter cover."

"So we have to take in a carrier," nodded Runel.

"One carrier, against a minimum of six Baseships?" scoffed Adrian Kelso. "Speaking from experience, those are bad odds."

"With escort, they should be able to hold them off long enough…" continued Runel, pausing as Sean Kelso held up a hand.

"They'd be in obit as much as an hour and a half," began Commander Sean Kelso. "Even if we took in every last combat-capable ship we have, we might be able to hold off the Cylon forces already deployed in that region, but that's more than enough time for them to call in reinforcements."

"We can't just give up on them, sir," snapped Jack Foster. "Not without even trying."

Looking over at the civilian captain, Sean Kelso tried to hide his anger, not so much at Foster's outburst, but from his own frustration. He didn't want to leave anyone behind he didn't have to; too many people had already died. But he couldn't risk the survival of his fleet, the tens of thousands under his charge for only a few hundred.

So it was, standing there, at the center of the assemblage, all eyes on him that Sean Kelso continued to grapple mentally with the problem.

How could they rescue those Marines?

As everyone stood there, silent, mulling over the chart, Commander Sean Kelso's gaze began to wander, absent of focus as he continued to mull the problem. Finally, his eyes settled on a lone object, a Viper, or rather, the situation table marker used to show Viper positions on the table during operations.

Any force they sent would need air cover, but how to get it there without risking the loss of an entire ship?

His eyes still locked on the Viper marker, Kelso began hearing a slight clicking noise.

His gaze shifting slightly, he saw that Jack Foster had begun absently playing with another object in his hands.

It took a moment for Kelso to realize what it was; it was a nametag.

As Foster continued to glare down at the chart on the table, he was absently pulling the magnetic attachment device on the back of the nametag free, only to let it snap back into place a moment later.

Click…Click…Click…

Suddenly, out of the distraction, Commander Sean Kelso had a thought.

The Viper…The nametag…

Reaching over, slowly taking the nametag from Foster's hand, much to the curious surprise of Foster himself, Sean Kelso himself began to pull the magnetic device on the back free, then let it snap back into place.

"That just might work," he muttered as he again pulled the magnet free and let it again fall back into place on the back of the nametag. "That might just fraking work…"

As a slow smile began to spread across Sean Kelso's lips he clasped his fingers tightly around the nametag.

"What might work?" muttered Adrian Kelso dubiously as he watched his son hand the nametag back to Jack Foster.

"Okay, bear with me here…" began Sean Kelso as he snatched up a sheet of paper.