Thanks for reading!!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing all belongs to Ron Moore, sci-fi ect.
"Be careful Starbuck," Apollo said through the helmet com.
He was just like an overprotective big brother. Of course, Apollo was hotter than any imaginary big brother.
"Yes, mother," she mocked from inside her Viper.
She followed the tiny black dots on the coordinates sent from Galactica to her Viper. Her gloves crinkled as they tightened around the controls of the ship. She silently prayed that the old man knew what he was doing. The first black dot matched up to the space station right in front of the formation of Vipers. Kara took some comfort in knowing if anything did go wrong Apollo was right behind her with his sights set on the station.
"Okay, I can do this," she said to herself with a short exhale. "Galactica Actual this is Starbuck. Preparing to enter at specified coordinates."
The Viper rocked slightly to the left as Starbuck inched the controls forward. The silver space stations grew larger inside the window of the Viper. She crossed the line into the cylon territory. Her fingers again tightened on the controls. Her heart began to pound in her ears. There was nothing like the thrill of being in a Viper on the verge of having to run for you life.
Starbuck turned her head to study the large motionless tower in space as her Viper drifted past it without incident. Though the station was technologically advanced somehow it didn't quite seem cylon. Rust had gathered on the outer most spires and even from inside her Viper Starbuck could hear the creaking of large metal straining to hold together.
"So far so good," Starbuck reported, imagining Adama's facing glowing in green light as he looked up at the dradis in the CIC and listened to her.
"Moving to second coordinate," she said.
With a deep inhale she let her shoulders relax a little. From the smoothness of the mission so far it seemed the coordinates Adama had given to her signaled which of the stations were friendly and which weren't.
"Kara, get the frak outta there now!" Apollo yelled in her ear.
She stopped her Viper dead in space in order to turn around. Once she stopped she saw the lights from the second Station power on and she could hear the sound of cannons charging. She hit the acceleration and moved out of range but once she was moving again the lights turned off.
Kara tilted her head to the side and clenched her teeth.
"Guess you don't like a moving target," she said to herself.
When she passed the first station on her way out she saw the formation of Vipers scattering in every direction. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the fleet in the direction Apollo and the other Vipers were scattering.
"Not good," she said and hit the acceleration once again, racing with the others back toward the fleet.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Roslin entered her office on Colonial One to find Tory laughing. The sound of Tory's laughter was as foreign to Roslin as the sight before her. Samuel T. Anders, Kara Thrace's husband, was smiling and had obviously said something that made Roslin's young assistant laugh. Upon the rescue from New Caprica Roslin had assigned Tory to work with Anders in finding possible ways to rally the civilian fleet to arms if such action was ever necessary again.
The two had devised a required course for all civilians that included basic survival training as well as instruction on using a weapon. Roslin hadn't been sold on the idea but persuasion from Adama and Anders made her go along with it. Apparently, Tory and Anders had become good friends during the course of the assignment through Roslin believed they had hated each other to begin with. But, as she well knew, hate is not the opposite of love…
"Good morning Madame President," Tory said, hopping from her leaning position on Roslin's desk and standing rigidly.
"Hello, Tory. Mr. Anders what brings you here," Roslin asked looking up at the handsome young man.
"Tory and I just finished the last of the…" Anders began but trailed off as he looked out the window.
The tall athlete brushed passed Tory and ducked down to look out the window. Roslin frowned.
"This is not good," he said.
Roslin and Tory exchanged glances. Tory joined Anders and the window and Roslin was not far behind. She peered out to see a white flash as seven or eight Cylon Basestars appeared out of the blackness of space.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Admiral we have multiple contacts on dradis," Dee said as Adama looked up at the screen.
One thing Adama always prided himself on was keeping in cool in a bad situation. This qualified as a bad situation.
"Call the recon Vipers back to the fleet," Adama ordered.
He saw Tigh give him a look from the corner of his eye.
"Sir, I'm registering six, no, seven Basestars jumping in behind a raptor and a Viper," Dee barked out.
Her voice carried over the other noise in the CIC. Adama clenched his teeth. He knew it was Sharon and Helo returning from their rescue mission. Judging by the kind of firepower they had on their trail they must have freed their child.
"We can't go up against seven Basestars," Tigh pointed out to Adama as if he hadn't realized the obvious.
Adama remained motionless and thought. He thought hard. There was no way he would let humanity be destroyed because of his decision to let Sharon and Helo go after their baby.
"Call the Vipers back and prepare for jump," Adama ordered.
Back-up jump coordinates always came in handy in such situations.
"Admiral," Gaeta began, with all kinds of papers in his hands, "Interference from the stations is blocking our FTL drive."
"Work through it," Adama ordered, leaning over the command station.
"I can't. I can't even get a clear enough signal to enter the coordinates, let alone jump," Gaeta stated with hidden panic in his voice.
"Basestars launching raiders," Dee's voice again rang out.
"The fleet won't last long, even with us covering them," Tigh said in a low voice to Adama.
For a brief instant all Adama could think about was how pissed Roslin was going to be with him if they lived through this. His hand clenched into a fist.
"Starbuck," Adama said into the air and waited.
"Yes Admiral," her voice came over the com system.
"How close are you to Galactica," he questioned. Adama noticed Tigh lift an eyebrow.
"Still closer to the space stations sir," Starbuck replied in a tone laced with frustration.
"Turn around. Start transmitting the coordinates to the fleet and lead them through," Adama ordered, "Let's see if this really is cylon technology."
"This is crazy," Tigh told Adama.
"You said yourself we won't last against seven Basestars," Adama replied.
The Admiral knew the move was rash and dangerous but he had no other choice. Death was certain if they went up against the Basestars but not a confirmed fact if they entered the space occupied by the stations.
"Dee, tell our Vipers to hold off the raiders for as long as they can. Bring Galactica around and ready cannons," Adama commanded.
"Aye, sir," Dee answered.
Common old girl, Adama thought, hold together for just one more fight. Adama often found himself thinking those words to his ship. By some stroke of luck she had listened to him in the past. He hoped luck was still on their side.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I don't believe it," Starbuck heard Apollo say.
All she could see in front of her was more and more space filled with the enormous space stations. How did she get stuck leading the civilians through when there was a battle going on? The urge to see what was happening was too over powering. Starbuck flipped her Viper around, still traveling forward but facing backward so she could see behind them.
Galactica had taken a severe pounding and was just passing the third station with three Basestars in close pursuit. The Basestars were coming at the old battle cruiser from three different directions. Once they crossed over the threshold of the space stations Starbuck watched as the lights flickered on. By the time Galactica was passing the fifth station marked on the map the weapons of the first stations began to fire.
Starbuck was nearly blinded by the huge explosions reflecting in the glass of her helmet. Three of the Basestars were completely destroyed in fiery eruptions so large that one of the stations was destroyed as well. Debris flew everywhere, even as far out as Starbuck was now. Small pieces of Basestar sprinkled the civilian ships like a Caprican rainstorm.
Kara couldn't remember seeing a sight so lovely. She smiled and her wails of joy joined in with the other pilots celebrating. The other Basestars stopped at the edge of the stations, not daring to follow. For the moment the fleet was safe. Kara's smile faded when she looked up at the station looming above her. Perhaps safe wasn't the right word. They were out of immediate danger as long as the ships kept moving along the specified trial.
"Just like following bread crumbs," Starbuck reasoned to herself and turned her Viper back around.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A week and a half after the narrow escape from the cylon Basestars Adama sat behind his desk rubbing his weary eyes and leaning over a damage report. The fleet had been extraordinarily lucky so far. For the time being it seemed the cylons had given up the chase, though Adama doubted they had given up completely. Each day he saw Sharon and Helo's happiness over the return of their child his stomach turned with an eerie feeling. The cylons would be coming, it was as sure as death and Colonial taxes.
When he heard a faint knock on his office hatch the last person he expected stepped through after granting permission to enter. Had the knock been forceful and urgent Adama would have expected Roslin to appear. For three days she hadn't come and from the brief, nearly ice capped, conversations he had with her over the wireless he knew a battle was about to be waged inside the fleet.
Adama sighed loudly as he thought about the fight awaiting himself and his…well, whatever she was…
"I hope I'm not intruding," Bianca Marks said as she timidly approached his desk.
Adama took his eyes from the damage report grateful they met with Bianca's warm smile instead of Roslin's scowl. He gestured toward the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
"No. Thank you, I'll stand," Marks said giving him a distrustful look.
Women doubting Adama's intentions was really beginning to get on his nerves. He watched her expectantly wondering why she was here and cursing himself for musing to himself that Laura was still prettier. Many would probably disagree with him but his tastes couldn't be helped. He didn't want them to be helped either.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you."
Marks did not ask but rather stated the remark with the hint of a smirk playing on her perfect lips. Adama wasn't sure he liked the presumption. After Roslin's behavior a week ago he didn't have any way to defend their relationship to the not inebriated woman who had observed it all.
"What brings you here?" he asked, changing the subject and hoping it wasn't too obvious.
Judging by the knowing glint in Marks' dark eyes he could tell he wasn't fooling anyone. She gave him another warm smile. Every time she used that smile he got the feeling it was a precious gift she was holding in her hands offering it to him with selfless charity. Actresses.
"Two reasons, actually," Marks told him and walked over to the wall to examine a painting of the Caprican skyline.
Adama's eyes followed her. He folded his hands on top of his desk and decided he didn't altogether trust the actress. She was a little mischievous, which could mean big trouble for himself and Roslin. If she spoke to the press about the inebriation….
"She sent me a gift basket with a rather lengthy apology," Marks began.
Adama sat up taller, unsure where the woman was about to take the conversation.
"It was unnecessary. We all have our moments, even the President," Marks mused.
Her eyes perked up as if she was holding in a laugh. Adama was relieved that blackmail wasn't on Bianca's agenda for the day. His shoulders fell back and he relaxed a little.
"What I would like," she continued, "Is to meet her again, to talk to her about a few things. You see, I come from a long line of oracles. My mother persuaded me into a career on the stage rather than taking up the family profession. Oracles are still as hated and feared now as they were a hundred years ago. Mother always said, better to be burned by critics than burned at the sake."
Adama pondered the words. He really didn't want Roslin buying another line of bull from another crazy religious fanatic. Religion turned Roslin into a raving lunatic without encouragement from a seemingly sane being.
"You think Laura is the leader in Pythia's Prophesy," Adama said low in his throat.
Taking about religious crap had never been his favorite past time.
Bianca's smile faded for the first time since he had met her. In fact, Adama only now noticed Marks' entire presence seemed tainted with an indefinable sadness. She brushed a tightly curled strand of hair away from her eye.
"I want to know if she is going to the planet," Marks said.
Adama did a double take, sure he missed what she had just said. He unfolded his hands and readied himself to spring from the chair at any second.
"How did you know about that?" He drilled as if she were one of his officers.
Marks calmly answered, her eyes glittering with secrets.
"Because I've seen it too."
Adama had trouble believing that. Maybe Bianca had found out about Roslin's dreams from Dr. Cottle or Tory. While he was trying to swallow what he still believed to be a hoax Marks stepped closer to his desk. His muscles were so tightly wound now that her movement made him jump.
"This planet holds the key to finding Earth," Marks explained.
"I've heard that before," Adama sarcastically mocked, avoiding eye contact.
"All of this has happened before—"
"Spare me," he ordered.
He didn't request, he didn't ask as a gentleman. He ordered. Like an Admiral. Marks did seem surprised at that. She tilted her head to the side and studied him with her dark enticing eyes.
"You don't believe Laura Roslin is the foretold leader?" Marks questioned.
"I don't believe in the ravings of bloodthirsty imaginary gods."
Adama knew few truths in his life but this was one of them. There were no gods. There was no destiny. Laura Roslin was a woman not a prophet. Human beings made choices of their own free will and paid the consequences. If you were a decent person and worked hard then with luck you might find a little happiness, do a little good for the world, or make a little mark in history. This was his religion, his truth and judging by the look on Marks face she didn't like hearing it.
"None of that matters if you love her," she said.
The actress could be just as smooth and unpredictable as the woman she claimed was the leader. Adama smirked and thought of the writing on the scroll in his desk. The scroll Roslin still hadn't seen. The scroll he would make sure she never saw for good or ill.
He fingered the handle of the desk drawer and watched Bianca Marks stare at him with a wary smile. There was certainly more to her than an actress with a lust for a Caprican Theater Statuette.
"But enough of that," she said flippantly, dismissing the heavy weight that descended on his office with a flick of her white hand, "I also came to invite you to a little celebration music show I'm doing for your crew, in about oh…" she glanced at the tiny silver watch on her wrist, "ten minutes."
Adama's mouth dropped.
"I see Colonel Tight didn't mention it. I knew it. Many of your crew wrote me with requests. I thought, hell, I can still sing, might as well share the wealth. When I asked permission to use the mess hall the Colonel granted it but obviously didn't tell you," Marks explained.
Adama smiled. He had finally figured Marks out. She was a masterful actress, worthy of a Statuette after all.
"No, he didn't tell me," Adama said. He stood up with a smile still on his lips and walked around the desk.
"May I escort you," he asked with an offered elbow.
"You're not angry?" she asked innocently with large lovely eyes.
She was brilliant. All the right touches, all the right words.
"Not at all. Anything to boost morale. Shall we?" Adama asked.
Marks took his arm and they left the room.
When they reached the mess hall Marks left Adama side, drawing some lifted eyebrows, one from Kara and one from Lee in particular. The rest of Adama's crew cheered her to the front of the room where Tyrol was still fiddling with a lone microphone.
Adama spotted Tigh in a dark corner near the back holding a glass. His long time friend gave him a sidelong glance with a toothy grin.
"You didn't approve this without telling me, did you?" Tigh asked.
Yes, Bianca Marks was a good little actress and obviously used to getting her own way no matter how she had to do it.
"She's an actress," Adama remarked as he watched the petite woman draw laughs from her audience.
"Well," Tigh shrugged after taking a drink, "If we're going to be had might as well be by a beautiful woman."
Adama nodded and turned his attention back to the show. The delight on the faces of his crew forced Adama to forgive Marks' deceit. Tigh chuckled. No doubt the XO found the entire situation funny.
One thing Adama would say for manipulative singer, she was at home on the stage. Her voice was distinct and drew passing crew members into the mess hall like water calls to a beached guppy.
On stage in front of people is where Bianca Marks seemed most comfortable. Adama wished Roslin hadn't been so drunk during their tête-à-tête with the actress or the President might have noticed how uneasy Marks had been in their company. Large groups of people seemed to frighten Marks less than a few individuals, though she had a way of putting people at ease even if she herself wasn't. When on stage that sadness about Marks seemed to disappear in the waves of love and applause that washed over her.
After a few songs Adama excused himself from the concert and was about to head back to his office when he felt a hand on his arm right out side the mess hall.
He turned and came face to face with a tight jawed Apollo. They stood there like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything. Adama could tell by his son's eyes his actions had something to do with Roslin. Perhaps Lee had given in to the rumors about Marks and himself. With a smooth movement Adama pulled his arm away from his sons grasp. He walked away, but felt satisfied in knowing his son had put Roslin back on her pedestal.