Here is chapter 4 and O'Neill joins the game. Next chapter, they'll finally meet again. But they won't have much time to chatter.

PS: Thanks for all your nice reviews. Cool to know that you like it.

PPS: After this chapter, it's clear that this is indeed a Battlestar Galactica crossover. The re-imagined series from 2003. This covers what happens in the miniseries.

PPPS: To all who also read my other story, taking place in the Walking Dead universe, there's finally a light on the end of the tunnel! I've finished the next chapter, alas in german, and now I just have to translate it. Because engish is not my native tongue I write everything in german first and then translate it into english. It's takes much time, but is easier for me that way.

Now, hope you'll like this chapter too. If yes, feel free to let me know. If not, tell me too.
Have a nice week!

Chapter 4: Triadface*

The air in the small room was thick with the smell of Kara "Starbuck" Thrace's fumarella cigar as she blew a steam of smoke right into Karl "Helo" Agathon's face. The man pointed his lolly accusingly in her direction. "Stop that Kara, it stinks!" The addressed young woman just smiled challengingly and send another little grey cloud of smoke in his direction.

Major Jack "Titan" O'Neill watched Starbuck's antics with a good natured smile. He knew what Thrace was up to. She had a bad hand and tried to bug Helo into loosing his concentration. And it worked like a charm. When the scratchy smoke encased his face a second time, Helo threw his cards on the table and launched himself on her. The two pilots wrestled in a jest for some time.

The other players on the table, Sharon "Boomer" Valerii and Marcia "Showboat" Case, held their triad cards patiently in their hands and watched the mock struggle. O'Neill knew that his best Viper pilot and his best Raptor pilot were displaying quite a show and in his position as their CAG he really should stop them, but today he didn't particularly feel like following the orders.

It may be their last card game together…heck…it was their last card game together. When this day was over, they'd all follow their respective transfers and vanish in all directions. So he decided to lean back and enjoy the last few hours with his pilots. They were great guys, every single one of them and together they were a great team. The best, as far as he knew -and cared.

But that hadn't saved them and Galactica from falling victim to budget cuts in the Colonial Forces. Disarmament was a done deal and the former flagship in the first Cylon War was to be converted into a stupid museum ship. Even the highly decorated and respected Commander, William Adama, had been unable to reverse Richard Adar's, President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, decision to remove Battlestar Galactica from service.

Galactica was considered an outdated and ineffective Battlestar and therefore it seemed illogical for the politicians to spend money, time and expensive equipment to update a ship when they could just order a brand new one at Scorpion Fleet Shipyards. The fleet already had a new crown jewel that seemed to fit the requirements of the new politics far better than the martial appearing Galactica. Battlestar Pegasus was everything Galactica was not. Smaller, but equipped with the newest technical knickknacks, this new flagship with it's very young and very ambitious crew was supposed to be the new spearhead of the Colonial Forces. A position, that Galactica had possessed for more than 40 years. But this time would come to an end on this very day. A big decommission ceremony was planned, a superficially respectful appearing shindig. But for O'Neill it felt like dismissal.

Sure, some big brass secretary had announced his or her presence and surely there would be some lengthy speech and maybe even a buffet. But in the end, even this 'festivity' couldn't hide the fact that the bureaucrats in the council were eager to close the cause Galactica once and for all. For them, the battle worn ship was no sign of strength and will, but a troublesome remnant of a brutal past that didn't fit well with the desired holier than thou policy. Today's society was tired of listening to decades old stories about the dark hours of war and especially about how they'd barely dodged complete annihilation by the Cylons. What counted was no longer retrospection and caution, but career advancement, the newest technical doohickey and fun. And he could understand it to some extent, really. Bloody and almost overwrought heroic stories about pilots flying willingly into death for their loved ones. It reminded him about those boring legends about Zeus, Apollo on all those other godly guys that he had to suffer through in school. Who wants to hear something like that again, again and again? Especially when you're twenty something and the furthest thing from your mind is war. Galactica was like a dinosaur and dinosaurs belonged in the past. That's the way the cookie crumbles.
But still, it just felt wrong to ignore and deny anything blindly that didn't fit into this new and shiny polished worldview.

The eggheads at the capitol had even rationalized the annual risk analysis of Cylon activity. Superficially, those measures of retrenchment looked good on the budgets, but politicians who were responsible for the security of not less than 12 planets should think further than to the next election. Just because they had heard nothing about the screw heads for years, didn't mean that they weren't lurking somewhere. Many would stamp him as simply paranoid, but O'Neill preferred to be rather save than sorry. The Cylons were still dangerous and what made them even more menacing was the fact that they knew next to nothing about them and their activities. All of their data was decades old. What kind of policy was that? You had to know your enemy, troop strength, tactics, technical capabilities and most of all, possible goals. But this let's-bury-our-heads-in-the-sandy-sand-tactic was nuts.

Instead of sitting back and relaxing in apparent safety, they should do their utmost to strengthen their defenses and gather information about the Cylons. What's the use of a brand new, ultra modern flagship when no one knew how to use it? Their politicians were naïve. The colonies hadn't acknowledged that a war was possible for years. Most of the fleet was shiny new, but tactically untrained. If the moment ever came, this combination would be their downfall.

But it was pointless to wrack his brain. No one was listening to him, anyway. The political and military course for the next decades was set and approved. In a few hours, Galactica would face her boring future as a dusty museum and her crew would scatter in all directions. It was the end of a great chapter of colonial history, despite the war and its consequences. Jack was no sappy guy, but he would miss the old lady.

Although he was no stranger to the feeling of parting, it didn't belong to his usual range of emotions. Rather than letting worry and sadness rule him, he preferred to see new situations as challenges. But today, this strategy didn't really work. It was not just this frakking goodbye party for a ship that had been his home for almost five years now. What had him thinking was more like a dark anticipation. He couldn't put it into words. Something gnawed at him violently, making him wish that this day was already over.

Beside him, Helo and Starbuck had settled their dispute and reached a dubious truce. Although, knowing Thrace, she probably saw herself as clear winner. Her triumphant grin proved this assumption. Helo wisely refrained from responding to her comradely provocation and instead garnered his playing cards that lay scattered on the floor. When he was finished, they continued their little game of triad.

The next rounds were filled with appraising eyes, meaningless insinuations and jokes. Marcia Case had already said goodbye to the game and watched the rest of the players with the relaxed face of someone who was glad to have copped out before losing half her salary. Starbuck and Helo still fought some kind of personal vendetta and outdid each other with stakes. This was a thing between the two of them and Jack was willing to stay out of this fight.

Their job was dangerous. They were pushed towards and over their limits every day and Galactica's crew had to function like a well oiled machine to master the challenges. As CAG, it was O'Neill's job that the flying squadrons could keep up. And more than that, he wanted his men and women to be the ones that set the pace. They were the best and they led the way. Therefore, it was good that they challenged each other regularly. It prevented them from being satisfied and lazy. And due to close quarters, it was impossible to leave those productive rivalry inside the Viper cockpit. It also spread onto a personal level and as long as the tension didn't escalate into fistfights, Jack wasn't going to interfere with this special kind of stress relief. Admittedly, Starbuck was in need of a bit more supervision than others, but at the moment it seemed that she kept her temper in check

Across the table, O'Neill's and Shannon Valerii's eyes met and they agreed mutely, to exit the game. Kara and Agathorn could work this out between them. Both officers popped their cards on the table and no one was more surprised than Starbuck herself, that Helo actually won the game. The young man threw his hand in the air and cheered boisterously, while his adversary eyed the cards incredulously.

"Woohoo! Take that, Kara!" Agathon cried and then furrowed his brows ruefully as he noticed something else. "Oh damn, why didn't we bet on something?"
While the two other women at the table rolled her eyes, Jack hid a wide grin behind the back of his hand. He felt Agathron's regret. Starbuck could be unbearably self confident and downright arrogant, but she had every reason to be. Not only was she one of the best pilots onboard, maybe even in the whole fleet, but also a damn good triad player. Normally, it was just not possible to beat her. Playing with her was like a hara-kiri to your wallet. Defeating Starbuck in something was about as likely as the Caprica Buccaneers* winning the final against the Tauron Wild Springs*. Too good to be true. So it was understandable that Helo mourned the opportunity to relieve her of some cash.

"Shut up, Helo. I want a rematch!" Thrace countered and immediately began to shuffle the cards vigorously. Apparently she had the strong urge to restore her good reputation as bad ass card player. Agathorn shrugged his shoulders and tried to appear generously.
"Why not? I'm a nice guy. After all, it must be hard for you to lose. Not used to that, huh?"
Kara stared at him with twinkling eyes as she planned her counter attack.
"No, I'm not used to losing. Contrary to others on this table who are very well versed in being second best. Right, Helo?"
One had to give Helo credits for his great deal of self control. Starbuck could be a real bitch right up to hurting those around her. She was the master of finding and hitting other's sore spots. Maybe exactly that made her the great pilot that she was. But instead of accepting her provocation, Helo kept an unimpressed face.
"Stop talking Trace and gimme my cards."

In a matter of seconds, the pilots were back to bluffing and haggling. When they played cards, O'Neill was much less aggressive or ambitious than his younger colleagues. But he rejected the idea that his advanced age was the reason for that. Rather than that, he wanted to believe that he was so much more experienced than them. It was simply no longer necessary for him to prove himself. He already knew himself, what he could do and what not. Their weekly games were not about simply winning or proving that he was still the boss. He didn't feel that he had to defend his superiority in front of them. He was their immediate superior, their CAG, the direct link between the pilots and the highly respected, almost worshipped, Commander Adama. Although Jack enjoyed his work and his rank, he was not the typical officer.

He could do very well without scaring off the junior officers. He didn't want them to think that their opinions didn't matter. He wasn't their enemy and he was not only their CO, but also their mentor. Someone they would follow willingly because they trusted his judgment and not, because they feared being charged with insubordination. He wanted to be one of them, not someone who was untouchable. O'Neill tried very hard to form a team. Every pilot was an egoistic and smug individual. They all thought that they were invulnerable. They needed this kind of exaggerated self confidence, or else they'd die of fear. His job was to lead by good example and show them the benefits of teamwork. The military academies produced lone wolfes, he changed them into a pack. To do this, he preferred the achievement of mutual goals over strict superiority. He led them with guiding authority rather than and squeezing them into an antiquated pecking order.

Of course, he also didn't accept disrespect of any kind, but a little bit of fun or a sarcastic comment here and there was allowed. After all, they spend lots of time in the confined space of this ship with no one else but your buddies as distraction. So, humor was essential to prevent them from going crazy.

Boomer's relaxed tone as she spoke to him a little sloppy was proof, that Jack had managed to convey this team spirit to his people.
"So Boss, out with it, where are they sending you?"
Four pairs of curious eyes met him when he peered over his cards. As soon as it was clear that Commander Adama had no more favors to call in to prevent the disarmament of Battlestar Galactica, Fleet Command had started to transfer the crew to other ships. By now, everyone had received new orders. But O'Neill had avoided this issue thus far.

On one hand, It really made no difference where they would send him. No ship, no Commander and certainly no crew could hold a candle to Battlestar Galactica. He was loyal like that. On the other hand, he simply really didn't want to deal with it. The dismantling felt personal somehow. Like it was not just the technology that was regarded outdated, but the crew too. He knew he had a little problem with suppressing stuff, feelings most of all, but Jack still refused to think about his new orders until the time was up. Now, there was probably no more need for that, because within the next 24 hours the live he'd lived for the last five years would finally be over.

"Pegasus." Was his cryptic response. He was waiting for their reactions and his young officers did not disappoint him. Starbuck literally dropped her jaw and her face shone with pure envy. Valerii and Case gave him the thumps up and Helo applauded appreciatively.
"Not bad, CAG. Battlestar Pegasus, the fleet's new flagship, commanded by the great Admiral Cain. Not bad at all." He praised effusively and then turned quite sincere when he held out his hand to congratulate. "Congratulations, Sir. Honestly. That's great. You've earned it."

O'Neill accepted the outstretched hand and tried to cover the sentimentality the young man's sincere joy caused with a humorous comment.
"Pfft…no biggie. A job like any other."
Helo wanted to disagree, but Jack's ego was saved by Starbuck's harsh interruption.
"Are you boys finished pampering each other? Let's play already! Mama needs a new pair of boxing gloves and I intent to buy it with your money."

Jack gave her a grateful look. He hated praise and he didn't need it. It was embarrassing, plus he knew damn well what he was good at and what not. Thrace knew that because she knew him an vice versa. No wonder, considering that Jack had been her instructor and that they regularly flew patrol together. She was his wingman…woman…whatever. What he wanted to say was, they were close. She was like the little sister he never had. He felt responsible for her, even if she was regularly driving him to desperation with her cocky attitude.

For the next few minutes, the pilots concentrated on their game and no other words were uttered than 'I raise by five' or 'I wanna see'. This particularly round dragged on and on and on because no one wanted to quit. Or maybe they simply knew that this was their last card came and wanted to prolong it as much as possible. Ironically, it was Starbuck who interrupted the focused silence.
She hid her head behind the cards in her hand and whispered conspiratorially.
"Enemy contact at 6 o'clock. I repeat, empty bottle of rum advancing."
Although O'Neill sat with his back to the door, he didn't have to turn around to know who this 'empty bottle of rum' was. This code was universally understood throughout the whole ship.

It was Colonel Saul Tigh, Galactica's XO. The man was tall, thin and almost bald. He was one of the oldest officers on board and considered part of the inventory. Cynics suggested that the only thing that kept him in service was his friendship with Adama. The old man, as the Commander was called lovingly from his men and women, stuck with his old friend. Although it was often difficult to understand why. Even Adama must have noticed that Tigh had a serious drinking problem. The whole ship knew. The result was that Tigh's orders were often openly doubted, prompting the Colonel to make up for that with ridiculously overblown authority. More and more crewmen asked why they should follow the orders of a guy that was drunken all of the time. Starbuck was the best example. The colonel's exaggerated arrogance, mixed with the knowledge that the man was hardly a role model of discipline, didn't get along well with Kara's naturally rebellious attitude. Just like last week. Jack had been moving heaven and earth to get his best pilot out of the brig because she'd threatened Tigh to put a control stick up his…well, where the sun didn't shine.

O'Neill himself didn't suffer under Tigh's antics like the rest of the crew, because his position as CAG came with a decent amount of autonomy among the chain of command. He and he alone was responsible for everything that could fly and no one meddled with him, well, except maybe the Commander. Tigh knew this and was smart enough not to try to boss him around. Still, the two men didn't like each other. But over the years of serving with each other they had agreed to some kind of non-aggression pact. Actually, Jack felt more pity towards him than anger. It was well known that Tigh was punished with a wife that used every opportunity to embarrass and cuckold him. It was a real shame, considered that Tigh was a veteran of the last Cylon War. They owed men like him a big deal. Pilots like Tigh and Adama had sacrificed a lot to save their worlds from destruction.

Tigh's presence finally made itself known through the gaunt shadow his body threw at the table.
"Good morning in the morning, Colonel Tigh, Sir. How are you today and how is your beloved wife?" Starbuck asked too sweetly while grinning broadly. Jack stared at her with a quiet warning, leaving no doubt whether he would tolerate such a behavior or not. Tigh was hardly an officer and gentleman, but he was still a Colonel and XO of the ship. One didn't have to appreciate Tigh personally, but his rank and post still deserved utmost respect. Jack expected that much from his people.

Starbuck understood immediately, though extremely reluctantly, and lifted her hands in an apology. Jack turned towards the older man with an expressionless face, even when he saw that Tigh's uniform jacket was buttoned up wrong.
"Can I help you, Colonel?"
"Yes, you can." Tigh answered in his typical growl and gripped the backrest of O'Neill's chair to steady himself. The smell of stale sweat poured out of him and Jack guessed that his breakfast had consisted of one or two drinks.
"The GDD just contacted us. They've caught two of that damn terrorists again and want to get rid of them a-sap. They requested one of our Raptors to take the two bastards to Astral Queen."
"Why can't one of their agents do that?" Jack wanted to know and casually took a new card while Helo thoroughly scrutinized firstly his cards and then Starbuck's game face, concluding that he had already lost and throwing his cards frustrated on the table. So, it was just O'Neill and Thrace left in the game. What a finish!
"They're all busy with preparations for the Pyramid Final. Guess they can spare no one." Tigh stated and grimaced.

His reasoning seemed plausible. This weekend, the 12 Colonies celebrated the Apollo days and the highlight of said festival was this year's Pyramid Final. The Caprica Buccaneers, the local heroes, played against their longtime rivals from Tauron. Due to the fierce rivalry, all worlds were exited and sympathies for the teams had divided the sports-mad population into two sets of fans. The betting odds clearly saw the Tauron Wild Wings as winner, but wonders never cease. Every game began 0-0 and had to be played.

Of course O'Neill was not very happy about the prospect of flying to Caprica now. Whoever had to play taxi, would almost certainly miss the game. But the GDD had made an official request for help and so they had to react immediately. Now, one would think that a CAG could pass this pesky assignment on to some of his pilots. But as fate would have it, today's decommission ceremony featured a pompous air show and the last training started soon. Jack had planned the duty roaster himself and therefore knew that there were only two pilots that could fly a Raptor and weren't included in the show. Ironically, both of said pilots sat at this table, opposite each other.

Jack himself had been supposed to lead the show. But a few days ago someone at the ministry had decided that it was a wonderful idea to fly in the Commander's son, Lt. Lee Adama, so he could do his father the compliment of leading the squadron. Thus, Jack was out of the show and could watch the spectacle together with the political and military bigwigs. Starbuck lost her place in the squadron as a disciplinary action. Tigh had insisted on punishing her for the rude stick-pushing-comment and the Commander excluded her from the ceremony, knowing full and well that this was not a very big problem for Thrace. The old man was quite keen on Kara. Despite her blunt behavior, there was something about her that caused a crazy duality. Either you liked her, or you wanted to hit her.

So, it was him or her. But how to decide? O'Neill concluded, that it was only fitting to let the cards decide.

"Okay, Thrace, lemme see what you've got."
Jack laid his cards at the table. Starbuck's face remained perfectly expressionless until she, too, showed her cards. But then she immediately broke into a spontaneous dance of joy while O'Neill groaned. Boomer and Showboat mimicked his reaction, Helo muttered something that sounded like 'Lucky sod'. The blonde poison, as Starbuck was called among the crew, had won.

Of course, he was still CAG and if he ordered Kara to go, there was not much she could do about it. But a true CAG honors his debts, especially gambling debts. He straightened in resignation and gave Tigh one of his patented sloppy salutes.
"Consider it done."

*Triad=popular card game; similar to poker
*Caprica Buccaneers and Tauron Wild Springs=the two most popular Pyramid teams