Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire

by GunnyStacker

199 days after the Cylon attack on the 12 Colonies, a chance encounter brings the Colonial Fleet in contact with the UNSC Spirit of Fire after the events of the Forerunner Shield World. Can they work together to reach UNSC space before the Cylons wipe them all out and manage to overcome the odds without killing each other first?

6. Chapter 6

Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 2

Heritage: Part 2

With

Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter

Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders

Courtenay Taylor as Serina

Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov

Rob Mayes as Jerome-092

Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen

Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green

Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Isaac Larson

Michael Peña as Petty Officer Blake

Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant Travis

And Introducing Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott

AUTHOR'S NOTE: On purely speculative science-fiction technology… "Get your facts first and then you can distort them as much as you please." -Mark Twain

APRIL 16 2534, 2220 HOURS (UNSC TIME)

199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK

COLONIAL ONE

OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE 12 COLONIES OF KOBOL

UNKNOWN SYSTEM

49,564 SURVIVORS

In the busting belly of Colonial One, a press conference had been called for by President Roslin, much to the eager anticipation of the reporters who had been as in the dark as the rest of the Colonial Fleet as to what exactly had transpired recently. Now the assembled journalists sat down in the economy seating section-turned conference room fidgeting like hungry cats while they waited for the President to make her appearance. The wait however, did not last too much longer as the former Education Secretary and her Chief of Staff appeared with two members of the President's security team escorting them from out behind the curtain. Without a word said, she approached the podium emblazoned with the Colonial Seal while the reporters started their recording devices to review the speech afterword for anything they may have missed. It was an act done out of habit rather than necessity seeing how it had been announced beforehand that President Roslin's address would be broadcast live for everyone in the Fleet to hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, thank you all for coming on this most auspicious day, and to the people of the Twelve Colonies currently listening throughout the Fleet. I am here today to speak on a matter of great importance regarding the events that have transpired within the last seven hours." She began. "When our fleet came to this solar system on our scheduled jump, every ship picked up a wideband transmission of unknown language and origin. Shortly after, Admiral Adama elected to take the Galactica to investigate the source of this transmission which I can now report to you, belonged to a ship that is called the Spirit of Fire. And it is now with certainty I can say that the Spirit of Fire is from and is currently crewed by military personnel belonging to the Thirteenth Tribe."

That shocking announcement brought on a wave of sudden blurted out questions from the press from reasonable queries to the wildly speculative. Billy Keikeya then stepped in to interject. "Please reserve all questions until after the conference." He spoke into the microphone mounted on the podium. The questions died out a couple seconds later, allowing President Roslin to continue.

During early communications between the vessels, an ambush was initiated by the cylons as five basestars then jumped in the vicinity of the ships and I am happy to say that all five basestars and their Raiders were destroyed in a joint action by the Galactica and Spirit of Fire, themselves suffering minimal casualties during the battle."

"I have since then met with the Spirit of Fire's commander, whose name is James Cutter and he has agreed to escort us to Thirteenth Tribe controlled space where we will be granted asylum from the cylons once his ship is FTL capable once more. Now this does not mean we are close to Earth, the Spirit of Fire jumped out here purely by accident over three years ago due to an FTL drive malfunction and they have since been without one on their way back to their territories which could still take considerable time to reach after she has been refitted with the spare FTL drives acquired by the Battlestar Pegasus. This is not a time for us to get cocky and start the festivities just yet." Roslin stated with a joking edge to her tone. "The Pegasus has detected large amounts of various metals in this system's asteroid belt and with cylon forces in the area destroyed, we're going to take our time and gather what materials we can for the long road ahead while the Galactica and Spirit of Fire undergo repairs suffered during the battle with the cylons. I will continue meeting with Captain Cutter in the coming days to discuss further matters and the Spirit of Fire's future role in the Fleet. Now, questions?"

APRIL 17 2534, 0405 HOURS (UNSC TIME)

199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK

RAPTOR 718 EN ROUTE TO SPIRIT OF FIRE

UNKNOWN SYSTEM

"Galactica, this is Raptor Seven-One-Eight, we are clear of the flight pod and outbound for Spirit of Fire." The Raptor's pilot, Lieutenant Jay Finnegan communicated to the battlestar.

"Copy that Raptor Seven-One-Eight, Galactica confirms. Spirit of Fire has been informed of your departure." Dualla's voice returned. "Be advised, Spirit of Fire has informed us she has commenced mining operations but they say the air traffic will be clear for your arrival."

"Copy Galactica, Raptor Seven-One-Eight out. So, Chief, ready to see her?" Finnegan called back to the rear compartment where Chief Tyrol was seated against the back wall.

"What does she look like, I haven't seen any of the pictures yet?"

Back in the cabin, Finnegan's copilot, Jesse Esrin began making what looked like pre-jump checks. Had the Spirit already traveled off that far? "She's long, got over seven-hundred meters on Pegasus but looks like a damn sports car compared to her."

"Huh," Galen acknowledged. So, it was pretty on top of everything else, it wouldn't matter a damn thing if he couldn't make her jump capable in forty days, his current estimate given by Admiral Adama as the timeframe for the mining op. "Hey are we jumping there? I didn't know she was already that far out."

Finnegan peaked around his seat to address Galen more directly. "Oh yeah, that thing can haul major ass. Covered thirty-K in just a few seconds back when those basestars jumped in. She's clear on the other side of the system next to the largest titanium deposit on the belt. Don't think the Old Man wasn't too pleased about that."

A beep on the main console signified the end to their conversation as Esrin cut in. "Alright, jump coordinates set, next stop Thirteenth Tribe central." She said with an upbeat tone that gave Tyrol the impression she might have been grinning. 'Gods Boomer would have loved this before…' Galen thought, his mood turning dower at her memory.

The two pilots, oblivious to Galen's internal distress, continued their duties as Esrin began the countdown. "Jump in three…two…one!"

A bright flash of light enveloped the canopy, sweeping away the image of the Fleet, replacing it with a very large asteroid three-ish kilometers out, which then promptly exploded.

"HOLY FRAK!" Esrin cursed as Finnegan pulled up on reflex. Galen might have been a knuckledragger by trade but he knew a weapon impact when he saw one, even on a mountain sized hunk of rock. The circular spray pattern of the material flying off was too uniform to be a random impact by another asteroid. To their front, large cracks in the asteroid's surface grew ever larger as a fair fraction of it was splitting off of its parent rock as result of the violent forces inflicted upon it.

Back in the flight cabin, Finnegan was fighting with the controls to get the Raptor turned around. "C'mon you fraking…" The DRADIS alarmed with hundreds of contacts. Debris flying right at them at hundreds of kilometers per hour. "Hold on! Esrin, we can't outrun all that, we're doing this the hard way!"

"Shit, copy, I got the DRADIS!" she responded with barely controlled distress. Galen felt the Raptor stabilize and then shoot forward as he held himself as tightly to his seat as he could.

"Contact incoming, two-o'clock, six seconds!" Esrin alerted to her partner who responded by pushing the Raptor's nose down to avoid the collision, narrowly avoiding it. "Two more, carom zero-four-four and zero-one-one!"

"Got it!" Finnegan confirmed as he banked the Raptor down and then sharply to the right to avoid getting clipped in the tail. The pilot's head was on a swivel, trying to figure out just what the hell they had ended up in, did they botch the jump? These questions however were quickly put on hold when he sighted multiple smaller impacts on the broken off portion of the asteroid. "Frak, more impacts! Gods what in hades is going on?" the bewildered Raptor pilot begged.

"It's the Spirit!" Chief Tyrol yelled up over the din of the DRADIS alarm. "They're cracking the asteroid!"

Finnegan edged his helmet back slightly, being careful to keep his eyes forward. "What? That's been illegal for a hundred years!" he yelled back.

"Well, I don't think they've fraking heard." Esrin piped in. "We got more debris coming in!"

"Frak, Chief get on the wireless! I don't think the Spirit knows we're here with all this debris." Finnegan yelled back before pulling at the controls to dodge another incoming asteroid.

With a quick breath, Galen unstrapped himself from his seat to have himself instantly thrown to the deck as the Raptor bucked up, nearly smashing Galen's nose against the deck. Instead he could feel a sharp sting on his right cheek, skinned from the floor plating's rough texturing.

Picking himself up, he crawled over to the console, activating the COM systems and cranking the transmitter to full power. "Spirit of Fire, Spirit of Fire, this is Raptor Seven-One-Eight, hold your fire, repeat: hold your fire. We are in the area. Requesting immediate-" Galen was cut off as the Raptor rolled, throwing him backward to the floor.

"Watch it, watch it!" Esrin cried out from the left as the Chief tried to rise again.

"Frak, there's too many!" Galen was floored again when he felt an asteroid impact them on the tail. It must have only clipped them, otherwise he'd be in vacuum right then, he reasoned. "Right engine is gone!" Finnegan called out. "I'm getting sporadic response from the left!"

"Raptor Seven-One-Eight, this is Spirit of Fire, we read you. Help is on the way, hold tight." Galen barely heard a female voice over Finnegan and Esrin.

The next few minutes were a blur to Galen as he was tossed around by the maneuver induced g-forces of the Raptor's evasive flying, tumbling around on the floor like a can of beans in a truck bed. It seemed to never end until Galen heard the telltale alarm from the DRADIS alerting of incoming missile fire. And indeed, four missiles were streaking in, launched from a pair of Longswords escorting an SAR Pelican in. The missiles struck upon the incoming asteroid debris, destroying the smaller rocks and diverting the path of one equal in size to an Elephant Recovery Vehicle.

The turbulence temporarily over, Galen was finally able to get back on his knees, bracing against the wall behind Finnegan's seat.

"Raptor Seven-One-Eight this is Pelican Search and Rescue Bravo-Two-One-Five do you copy? Over."

"Raptor Seven-One-Eight copies," Finnegan replied. "Our engines have taken damage requesting immediate assistance. Over."

"Rodger that, Raptor Seven-One-Eight, we are inbound to assist, kill your engines and standby for pickup. Over."

"Wilco, Pelican Bravo-Two-One-Five. Powering down engines now, we will maintain our course." A relieved Finnegan said. With the Longswords in the area to intercept any potential threats, the crew and passenger of the Raptor could breathe a sigh of relief.

"Frak, what the frak was that?" Esrin swore her terror now replaced with anger and confusion. "Galactica fraking hailed them, they knew we were coming! What the hell happened?"

"I don't know." Finnegan replied with a frustrated shake of the head while behind him, the Chief put some thought to it.

"The jump," he finally said. "They didn't know we were jumping to their position."

Esrin turned around as much as she could in her seat. "That ship was thousands of kilometers away, of course we were going to jump there, that's standard operating procedure for distances over ten-thousand kilometers." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah well, looks like we didn't tell them that either." Galen said with a tight-lipped expression.

Finnegan fell back in his seat exhausted. "Frak." He cursed, seeing the Chief's logic clearly.

Not long after, the Pelican arrived, magnetically latching the Raptor under its long tail, the purpose of that particular oddity now revealed. The ride then after that harrowing arrival went quietly. From the limiting position behind the Pelican, Galen, Esrin and Finnegan observed dozens more Pelicans, Longswords and other craft including at least two massive boxy ships pass by. DRADIS cited almost one-hundred-and-ten contacts total with more on their way into the debris field to retrieve stray chunks of ore to bring back to the Spirit for processing. Asteroid cracking was a messy business but it looked like the Spirit was well equipped to deal with that problem.

As the Pelican banked right around the Spirit, Galen got his first good look at her and damn she was a sight. Sleeker and longer than any Colonial warship he'd ever seen. The fighter hangars were built high into the main body protecting them well from hostile fire and negating the need for excessive armoring like the flight pods on a battlestar. And with what looked like a dozen other launch bays to deploy dropships from like they all were now, it was clear to Galen that Spirit of Fire would be an absolute terror to anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end when it came to planetary assaults. Her Marine compliment must have been sizable, a battalion or more, the Chief estimated. The Pelican came around to the Spirit's portside where he got a good look at the damage on the futuristic wing while their glorified Thirteenth Tribe tow truck made its final approach on the bay they were to land in near the bottom of the ship. It definitely looked like damage from a large impact and not anything artillery fire could have done; the Admiral might have just been paranoid for once when he asked Galen to access it for him.

Entering the bay, the Pelican pilot hailed them on the wireless. "Raptor Seven-One-Eight, do you read? Over."

Finnegan engaged the transmitter on his console. "Raptor Seven-One-Eight copies Pelican Bravo Two-One-Five, send traffic, over."

"We will be touching down on launch pad five momentarily to set your bird down. From there, we will disengage magnetic lock and move to land launch pad four. Do not attempt disembark until you are clear of the airlock, a Marine medical team will be on standby. Do you copy that? Over."

"We copy loud and clear Bravo Two-One-Five, see you inside. Over and out."

The Pelican came in gently over the yellow outlined pad. In an instant, the mechanic and two pilots felt the Pelican's electromagnets disengage when they unceremoniously dropped to the deck. While it was only at the most ten centimeters, being inside the multi-ton spacecraft when it fell still made for a rough landing. The Pelican then moved off to its own pad adjacent to them, giving the Chief a good look around. The bay was a good size, with two rows of six launch pads, Galen estimated the dimensions to be around one-hundred-fifty meters wide by another hundred in length and twenty meters from the floor to the ceiling. Admittingly, Galen had wondered if the Thirteenth Tribe had some kind of invisible energy shield acting as a bay door but upon seeing a few figures in spacesuits wandering about that thought was put to rest at almost the same moment the Raptor began to rise up toward a door in the ceiling he hadn't noticed before, equal in size to the launch pad the Raptor sat on. Looked like the Spirit's launch bays operated in the same method as Galactica's flight pods did, though reversed in the direction of their elevators. It didn't take long to pass up into the aircraft hangar.

A mechanical thunk signaled the halt of the aircraft elevator, revealing an aircraft hangar that wasn't all that dissimilar to Galactica's, though she did not have racks for aircraft that stretched up potentially seven or eight rows high. Ahead a squad of olive armored Marines came jogging up, four of them sporting dark red crosses on their left pauldrons clustered around two gurneys.

Several minutes passed as the medics looked the three over for injury, with Galen in particular who was the only passenger with a visible wound. Currently he was sat down on the Raptor's wing while one medic examined his eyes with a flashlight for concussion while another used a miraculous machine the size of a portable vacuum to heal the scrape on his cheek with a strange burst of odd colored light. It burned and stung like hell, but it worked.

The Medic shined the damn light in his eyes for longer than a minute, making the mechanic worry he'd be seeing spots for the next few hours. When the Marine finally turned it off, Galen found an elderly gentleman in a dark green uniform staring down at him with a friendly smile cocked up on the left side of his mouth under the bristly silver mustache that looked like considerably past regulation length. He held out a beaten looking headset out to him which Galen promptly dawned.

"Rough ride?" he asked in a drawling accent before offering his hand to Galen.

"I've had better," Galen replied, taking the hand and pulling himself up, bringing the attention of the Marine Medic once more who wanted to check his pupillary response just one more time. The Deck Chief held out his hand in a stopping gesture. "Please, if you shine that thing in my eye one more time, I think I'll go blind." he said, not caring if the Marine understood him or not.

"He'll be fine corpsman, I got him from here." The older man said to wave the Marine off. Distractions out of the way, he offered his hand again for Galen to shake. "Andrew Prescott, Spirit of Fire's Chief Engineer."

"Galen Tyrol, I'm Galactica's Deck Chief and uh," he cocked a playful smile. "Unofficial Chief Engineer."

Prescott chuckled. "Sounds like one heck of a heavy load you've got yourself there."

"Well, caffeine is a big help," Galen admitted, he had long since lost count of the all-nighters he'd pulled since the attack.

"Always is." Prescott agreed. "I'll get to the tour right after you tell your buddies there we have to report to the Bridge, Captain's orders. I'll make sure we pick up some headsets along the way down, they'll want to hear what the Skipper has to say."

\\\\\\O

The slim door to the Bridge parted open automatically unlike the heavy manually operated doors on Galactica. To their front the Spirit of Fire's command center was revealed, half the size of Galactica's CIC but several times larger than Pegasus'. Prescott lead then inside, Galen's attention immediately taken by the holographic projection upon the table in the room's center displaying the local area of asteroid field Spirit was occupying and Galen had to restrain himself from going on an extended tangent to learn every minute detail on its operation.

Unknown to them, the Bridge's shutters had been sealed for the duration of the mining operation as to not potentially risk the impact of micrometeorites, giving them the impression that the Spirit's Bridge was like Galactica and hidden in the center of the ship.

"Skipper, come take a look at who I found just sitting on the front porch." Prescott greeted with a holler.

An officer younger than Prescott came forth from overlooking some information at another Bridge officer's station wearing a combat-ready uniform which caught Galen and the Viper pilots off guard, expecting someone in much more formal attire as the Spirit of Fire's commanding officer. The subtly decorated cap under the headset he wore being one of the few features that distinguished his uniform from the other officers. Prescott offered the man a relaxed familiar salute, Galen, Finnegan and Esrin taking slightly longer salute after they overcame their surprise.

Captain Cutter returned it, locking eyes with the three Colonials before he lowered his hand. "At ease." He granted before setting his sights on Galen who was still in his orange engineering coveralls. "You must be Chief Tyrol, I'm glad yo have you aboard." He greeted, shaking hands with Galen.

"Uh, that's correct Commander." Galen blinked and shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, Captain. I mean…" He amended, confusing Colonial ranking structure for the obviously differentiating military ranking organization the Thirteenth Tribe used. "Chief Galen Tyrol reporting to offer assistance, Captain." He stated as he stood himself at attention, apparently rousing a bit of humor in the Captain as a smile creased his face.

"I said at ease Chief, you're not on trial here. I just need you and Mr. Prescott here to figure out a way to get the Spirit jump-capable again using a Colonial FTL drive and do so inside a month. Think you can accomplish that?"

"The timeframe will have to depend on my inspection of the Spirit but I can get to work immediately sir."

Cutter nodded in return. "That's good to hear, so I'd better not keep you waiting any longer. You and Mr. Prescott are dismissed." Cutter saluted.

Galen returned the salute, not minding the briefness of his first meeting with the Captain given that they would likely be seeing quite a bit of each other in the coming month. "Thank you Captain." He replied before leaving, passing the Raptor pilots on his way out the door with Chief Prescott.

"Now," Cutter began, directed at the two Colonials still in the room. "Would you two explaining what happened out there?"

The male pilot saluted crisply. "Sir, Lieutenant Jay Finnegan, sir. I was the pilot, the mistake was mine, sir. I was responsible." He admitted.

"Ensign Jesse Esrin, sir. I was the copilot and I was just as responsible as the Lieutenant."

Cutter held a neutral expression as he crossed his arms behind his back. "Explain Lieutenant."

"Sir, its standard Colonial protocol for journeys exceeding ten-thousand kilometers for the craft to initiate an FTL jump to the target location to reduce fuel consumption, sir."

There was a slight disapproving twitch on the Captain's face. "Does this look like a Colonial Uniform, Lieutenant?"

"No sir."

"Is this a Colonial ship?"

"No sir." Lieutenant Finnegan replied again.

"Do you think in the few hours we have known each other that the crew of this ship would be well-versed in Colonial protocols?"

"No sir!" Finnegan replied, fully realizing the stupidity of his mistake and failure to communicate. He had been so excited following the battle, so thrilled knowing that his fellow humans belonging to the Thirteenth Tribe were among the fleet, he had completely overlooked that they still were an entirely different civilization with a different language, customs and military protocol.

"Spirit of Fire is not a Colonial ship, it is not a battlestar. This is a Phoenix-class Support Vessel of the United Nations Space Command Navy." Cutter stated solidly before stepping within arm's reach of the two. "Now I don't blame either of you for anything, this was an accident, but one that could have been avoided." The Captain then said in a calmer, more personal and forgiving tone. "You were lucky to survive or maybe you're actually just that good on the stick." He said, cocking a slight playful smile that gave the Colonials some ease. "As much as I know you want to right now, I can't send you home yet. With your damaged Raptor, it'll have to be carried back on a Pelican and until I've got fighters to spare for an escort flight through the asteroid field, that won't be possible for at least half a day. In the meantime until then, I'd like to request that the two of you brief a few of my Air Force officers on any information relating to Colonial protocols you believe is pertinent to the safety of ongoing flight operations between us and the Colonial Navy so accidents like the one that happened today won't happen again."

The Lieutenant and Ensign shared a brief glance before Lieutenant Finnegan spoke up. "I would be happy to help sir but I need to talk with Galactica first on the matter."

"I've gone ahead and spoke with Colonel Tigh on the matter and he agrees." Cutter responded, expecting the young Lieutenant's response. "A Marine escort will be down momentarily to escort you up to Lieutenant Colonel McCullen's ready room. Do you have any questions?"

"Sir," Lieutenant Finnegan spoke with an air of hesitance. "Um, would it be possible for us to take back a souvenir, a picture or something to show the other pilots?" Finnegan asked sheepishly as the Bridge door opened for the pair of Marines meant to escort the Colonials.

Cutter's slim smile grew a bit more. "I'll see what I can do, Lieutenant. You are dismissed." The pilots saluted the Captain and Cutter returned the gesture and with that, they left, allowing the Captain to put his attention elsewhere. "Serina?"

"Yes Captain?" she answered as the AI appeared at her holotank.

"Inform Colonial One I won't be able to attend any negotiation meetings at this time and continue monitoring the Fleet's communications, especially the civilian traffic." Cutter ordered with a more serious tone. "I want to know who we're getting in bed with before we commit to anything further than what we've already agreed to so far. I have a feeling that President Roslin was holding back some serious propositions during our first meeting. For now, transmit some bare specifications on the Spirit of Fire to keep her happy."

"Aye sir, anything else?"

"Just keep an eye on the Colonials on the ship and make sure they don't either deliberately or mistakenly do or know anything they shouldn't."

APRIL 20 2534 1438 HOURS (UNSC TIME)

203 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK

COLONIAL ONE

49,564 SURVIVORS

It had been four days since the first meeting between Laura Roslin and Captain Cutter but at long last he had returned aboard Colonial One after an extensive mining operation undertaken by Spirit of Fire on the far side of the system's asteroid belt, stripping out titanium, copper, gold and a list of other metals needed for repairs by means of the illegal practice of asteroid cracking under Colonial law, a practice that nearly saw to the deaths of three Colonial Military personnel. It was a matter Laura wished to broach during today's meeting as well as a number of others.

Captain Cutter passed through the curtained doorway to Laura's office with Billy closing it behind, giving her a brief glance at the black armored soldier that was the Captain's bodyguard.

Laura rose from her seat as Cutter walked up to her desk and they again shook hands pleasantly. "Madam President,"

"Captain," she greeted warmly.

"Where is Admiral Adama?" he asked, not noticing the older man's presence in the room, or Baltar's for that matter, though it seemed to matter far less.

Laura seated herself and Cutter followed suit, sitting himself on an office chair in front of her desk. "The Admiral won't be joining us today." Laura said with a tone of slight hesitance. "I was hoping for today's discussion it would just be between the two of us. I notice you decided not to bring miss Anders along either."

"She's still going over some of the inconsistencies she noticed in your scrolls." Cutter said, prompting Laura's brow to wrinkle in interest of Cutter's statement. "It's nothing," he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "She's just a bit obsessive when it comes to the smaller details at times, that's all."

"Well if she would like any help, I'm sure I could find a priest that would be more than willing to offer the Professor some guidance." Cutter cracked a smile that was just a hair restrained from a chuckle and Laura smiled politely in reaction. "You're not a spiritual man, I'm guessing?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't mean to offend."

Laura's disingenuous politician's smile turned more genuine, seeing the humor in the moment. "It must seem pretty odd to meet a bunch of people still worshiping a dead religion." she said, still withholding those feelings of insult in the name of her Gods against the Thirteenth Tribe's apparent strong distaste for polytheism.

"It's just a novelty, it'll pass with time. And we're being honest, this entire situation does seem stranger than fiction." Cutter admitted.

Laura chuckled. "I bet it would read like a third-rate novel written by some trashy author."

"You want trashy, I should let you watch this ancient show one of my crew members brought aboard as a joke. They actually called it Star Trek."

"Oh, that sounds awful." Laura chuckled again.

"You have no idea." Cutter said, joining her for a moment in enjoying the levels of dark and absurd humor they felt, though for perhaps entirely separate reasons.

"So," Laura spoke with a pause to redirect the conversation back to where she wanted to head. "How goes Chief Tyrol's evaluation of the Spirit of Fire?"

"He says the Spirit definitely has the structural integrity to handle the strains of a jump but I could have already guessed that. The UNSC doesn't build its ships with brittle bones." He assured. "But given her mass, Chief Tyrol assesses she'll need three drives working in unison to jump successfully. Right now, he's still working with my Chief engineer to figure out where to place them throughout the ship where they can be networked in and won't compromise any other systems."

"Well, it's good to hear progress is being made." Laura commented. "I'm actually grateful I've had these extra days to prepare and had time to speak with the quorum. We've since all come to a decision regarding the Spirit of Fire." Laura said with nervous excitement and perhaps a bit of apprehension, catching the Captain's attention as she pulled a formal looking document from a folder containing only it alone. "I as the President and on the behalf of the members of the Quorum of Twelve, I would like to extend an offer to you Captain and your crew to join us as formal members of the Colonial Government under the Articles of Colonization. With full Quorum representation of course." She offered, hoping Cutter would happily accept and join with their long lost brethren after these thousands of years apart. Cutter took up the paper containing the Articles and began reading it over while Laura continued with the speech she had prepared. "And with that briefing packet you sent over on Spirit of Fire's capabilities, it has given me several ideas on how she can help the fleet." Roslin began flipping through some octagonal papers off to the side of her desk. "Oh yes, and I also wanted to ask you how many refugees the Spirit could potentially take on. The Cybele, Gideon and the Thera Sita are all suffering from overcrowding and we don't have anywhere else to put them."

Cutter's response was not what she hoped for as he dawned a cautious and skeptical expression, as if he had been expecting her proposal. "I can't agree to any of this, madam President." He spoke much to Laura's sudden and surprised disappointment. "If I were to sign your Articles of Colonization, I as an officer of the UNSC Navy would be committing an act of treason by agreeing to obey Colonial Law and place myself under the command of your government and I am assuming Admiral Adama's. Secondly, the majority of the crew aboard Spirit of Fire are military personnel, with very few civilians serving under circumstances like Professor Anders is. Your proposal also has me a bit confused. Four days ago, you requested me to grant you asylum in the UNSC and now you want us to join your government?"

"Well surely it would be a temporary arrangement until we reach Earth." Laura reasoned feeling distressed at the Captain's rejection. "The Fleet needs to see that we are unified in purpose, they need a show of unity with their Thirteenth Tribe and no one has heard a single word from anyone aboard your ship besides the crew of the Galactica."

"You keep on calling us that, the Thirteenth Tribe, but that's not how we see ourselves, madam President. Until four days ago, we thought we were the only humans in the whole universe. We never had any Lords of Kobol or fraternal colonies living on other worlds. We are the UNSC, we're from Earth, Tribute, Arcadia, Coral, I was born on Reach, colonies founded by Earth." Cutter listed to illustrate his point. "The UNSC is made of over eight-hundred planets, moons and asteroid colonies and now you're asking me just to forget all of that in the name of your fleet? A fleet that is barely held together by your government where there is a previously imprisoned terrorist on your governing council," He said with bewildered emphasis on Tom Zarek's position on the Quorum. "Where crime is rampant, where the commanders of military vessels can be assassinated by crime lords." Cutter said referring to Commander Fisk's death at the hands of a criminal organization that ran the fleet's black market.

"That is speculative rumor, Captain." Laura interrupted, not liking shadowed path down which this conversation had traveled to.

"I don't intend any disrespect, but I'm not a fool madam President, I know what bullshit smells like. I turned down a promotion to Admiral because I couldn't stand the politicking that came with it. Its why I wear combat BDU's instead of a dress uniform every day, so my crew knows I'll choose them over my career no matter what. Personally, I am shocked and a bit appalled that Admiral Adama hasn't instituted martial law in the face of the catastrophe that's happened. But maybe he has a distaste for politics as well." Cutter deviated for a moment. "I might not even be speaking to you in eighty days with the upcoming elections which I honestly can't believe you agreed to."

Laura simply sat and listened, quietly stewing in her own frustration behind her mask, brought on by the unfortunate turn the conversation had taken. She wanted to see it his way, Cutter was a military man, like Bill Adama, of course he would feel the way he did about the Colonial government just like Adama had in the early days. But she had her duties as well to the people of the fleet, the 49,564 survivors of the cylon holocaust. To her he was being obstinate and to a degree apathetic to the fleet's obvious suffering. Bill had been right, Cutter would always put the men and women of his crew ahead of any person in the Colonial Fleet in spite of humanitarian needs and it was almost infuriating.

"I am willing to help you and this fleet as much as I am comfortable with but any relationship between it, under whatever administration that runs this fleet, and my ship is going to be a two-way street. Spirit of Fire will exist as its own independently operating entity separate from the fleet and that's how it will remain until we arrive in UNSC space to grant you the asylum you requested of us. Not the other way around."

Laura continued to sit silent for a moment still before she removed her glasses, suppressing her feelings of indignation, chaffed by the Captain's rejection and harsh assessment of the Colonial government which she would fight to the death to defend. She wanted to act bitterly, retaliate by withholding the Hyperlight Drives from Cutter as blackmail until he agreed to her terms but that wasn't fair or even realistic seeing how the Spirit of Fire outgunned both the fleet's battlestars in terms of pure destructive capability and had the only map with the relative position of Earth on it.

"Then I propose you select an ambassador to speak on the behalf of your ship, Captain. I believe it will make these…ongoing negotiations less of a waste of our time." She cleared her throat. "I think that will be all for today, Captain. I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

Cutter curiously looked at his wristwatch but said nothing on the apparent disparity between the Fleet's time reference and the Spirit's. "Alright, feel free to send any messages to Spirit of Fire if you need to contact me." Cutter said as he stood. "Madam President."

"Captain." She said considerably colder than at the start of today's meeting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So Roslin just lost her rosey view of Cutter and the Thirteenth Tribe, which is a theme you'll continue to see as the Fleet realizes the crew of the Spirit of Fire are just as humanly flawed as themselves and that they might not be the altruistic saviors the Colonials had hoped for. Both Adama and Starbuck already lost that in prior chapters but Starbuck is still hopeful in building good relations between them and the Spirit of Fire because despite her chronic angst, Starbuck's hope is what helps keep everyone going in the series.

I also hope I got a bit of Cutter's character across that he identifies with and is far more open emotionally toward military personnel verses civilians and politicians. He believes in the UNSC and its unity through strength philosophy. Crime leads to insurrection and Roslin's administration has let that flourish dangerously in Cutter's eyes. Will he do anything about that, given that he has a very large Marine compliment at his disposal? That's yet to be seen.

The technology in the device used to heal Chief Tyrol's cheek is canon, it appeared in Mortal Dictata. And since the Spirit of Fire is an older ship, it wouldn't have any energy shield doors for its hangars which didn't appear until the 2540's, so it's launch bays and airlocks for her.

Oh and for fans of BSG, I highly recommend you check out House of the Dying Sun on Steam. It's a space flight sim with RTS elements made by ex-Bungie employees, heavily influenced by Battlestar Galactica and its dogfights. It's incredibly fun to pull off what the Blackbird did against the cylon resurrection ship on an enemy Battlecruiser with your nukes or drift strafing around a destroyer as you dodge its oncoming fire.