Chapter 7

Location: Ragnar Anchorage

Date: December 2, 2021

Time: 2000 Lima

The Colonial fleet was in chaos, the massive Command Battlestar was still badly damaged from the sudden tear in its starboard flight pod and its bow from the collision with an escorting frigate and now command of the fleet fell to the next most senior officer until the Triton had its situation under control. Rear Admiral Cain now grouped the fleet around the Triton to protect it and had scrambled damage control parties from each ship to be ready to assist the flagship should they be needed. However, the Earth Battlecruiser General George Hammond had left the formation and was hovering nearby with every one of its systems fully activated and ready for action.

Colonel Carter had been going over a status report from engineering when the Triton's pod had burst open and sent debris, small craft and people floating into space. She then maneuvered the Hammond to get out of the way of the spinning goliath as the entire formation split and dodged away. They had no idea if this was an attack and if it was she didn't want Earth caught up in the middle of it. After seeing the damage with the Hammond's superb scanners she'd put the ship on high alert and activated every sensor they had. What they found was quite curious. A single small contact not too far away had appeared out of nowhere at the exact same time as the Triton was damaged. So the contact was marked and Carter decided to divert the incoming Alaska Battlegroup to take a quick peak at what the contact was.

"Colonel," Major Harrison called from his station, "I'm getting an incoming call from the Battlestar Pegasus."

Carter nodded, I knew they'd want to speak with us, "Put it through."

"Yes ma'am."

"This is Colonel Carter," she said into the mike she always had in her ear, "What's the situation?"

"I can't tell you that right now Colonel, I'm not sure myself," the voice of Admiral Cain replied, "I'm going to have to ask you to return your ship to the safety of the formation."

"I'm sorry Admiral I can't do that. I'd feel safer with my ship in open space with room to maneuver."

"Colonel, I have explicit orders to keep the Hammond tucked away in our formation. I understand your reasoning, but I have my orders," Cain said, keeping an even tone.

"So do I. I also feel the need to inform you that an Earth Battlegroup has been dispatched escorting our civilian delegation. The Hammond will join that formation when it arrives. But first I must know what the situation is," Carter replied, trying to keep an even tone as well.

"I'll tell you what we know as of now; there was an unauthorized FTL jump within the hangar of the Triton. She's suffered quite a bit of damage to her number three flight pod as you can probably tell. But it seems that Lieutenant Adama was aboard that Raptor, reports are sketchy so far, but we believe she was abducted."

"Abducted?!" Carter said back in surprise.

"We don't have solid facts yet, but so far it seems to be the case."

"Well, if that's true we can collaborate the report of an FTL jump. Our sensors picked up a small contact relatively nearby. It appeared at the precise time the Triton took that damage."

"Can you give us the coordinates? This is a Colonial matter Colonel, it's our job to go after her," Cain demanded.

"We've already rerouted our Battlegroup to investigate; they'll be there in a few moments."

"Colonel, I have to tell you give us the coordinates, this is a Colonial matter," Cain repeated again.

"Fine, we're sending you the coordinates. Admiral, she was with us for quite a while, and to us she's not just some pilot. She was a friend. Listen, we have a great deal of experience in operations like this and have the technology and ships nearby to make it happen."

"Colonel, I'm not sure if you have any idea whose territory those coordinates are in. That space is controlled by the Cylons," Cain breathed out, fury inching into her tone.

"Cylons?"

"Our enemy, we fought a war against them forty years ago that cost us millions of lives. You have no idea what you're up against in dealing with the Cylons. Only Battlestars can take a Cylon Basestar one on one."

Carter wanted to quip back at Cain with a retort about how the Hammond could rip apart anything the Colonials could throw at them but resisted, "Are their ships anything like yours?"

"During the war they were slightly larger in terms of overall mass with a different doctrinal design and combat philosophy, but comparable in all categories except for speed, but they still dwarf yours, they also have a much larger fighter compliment and are more focused on missiles instead of cannons."

"Then we won't have a problem, we've fought ships your size and we're still here."

There was a pause on the other end as the Colonials were no doubt laughing at the audacity of the Earth ship's commander. But when Cain came back she had a tone in her voice that would have made a Gou'ald cringe in fear.

"Colonel we appreciate you Earthers are trying to impress us but let's be realistic, your ships might be able to put up a fight but it's a fool's errand."

"Then we invite you to send over an officer with explicit knowledge of Cylon weapons and tactics, because we're going to help our friend," Carter snapped.

Battlestar Pegasus CIC

Cain slammed the head set onto the plotting table in front of her, enraged at the audacity of Colonel Carter to say that something like the Hammond could beat more than one Battlestar at one time. Several crewmen had laughed out loud at the proclamation from the gutsy Earther, while others had been genuinely intrigued. But it seemed that try as she might they were going to mount their own rescue mission with or without the Colonials' consent.

"So what do we do? It's clear we can't stop them from trying," Colonel Belzen carefully spoke, "To do so would entail hostile action."

"If they're so adamant about fighting the Cylons let them."

"Admiral?" Belzen questioned, not expecting that.

"If Earth goes and starts a war between us and the Cylons because they were unprepared it's a scenario we can handle. The Fleet knows how to fight the Cylons, that's an enemy we know, we've prepared for that for decades. But Earth…we know a whole lot of nothing. If they're right and we try to stop them, we've only made an enemy with them having all the advantages. But if they're right and we let them go they live up to their own hype and knock the Cylons down a peg, war will be avoided entirely. The toasters aren't stupid, they won't knock their heads against a wall only to lose every time to Earth while fighting us at the same time."

"How do you figure that?" Belzen asked, speaking quietly as he walked close so Cain could speak frankly and quietly.

"The Cylons know that if they fight Earth we'll declare war in defense of Earth. They can't possibly prosecute a war on two fronts. If they could do that then they could roll us over. And if they could annihilate us, they would have done so by now. But they haven't, which means that the Cylons are the ones who have made the mistake. But, we still need intelligence on both the Cylons and on Earth, and Colonel Carter just gave us our opportunity to get someone in there to get a perfect idea of what they've got under the hood. But if we send an intelligence officer, they'll know what the real intent is right off the bat, it needs to be someone who won't necessarily be seen as having ulterior motives."

"Admiral if I may?" Captain Fisk piped up.

"Let me hear it Fisk."

"Admiral only one man has that kind of experience with fighting the Cylons, and he also has a personal stake in this."

"Adama?" Belzen summarized.

"He's the most experienced officer in the entire Fleet, if anyone knows how to beat the Cylons it's him," Fisk replied, "And the Earthers will know the rescue mission will come first for him."

Cain nodded, appreciating what it was Fisk was saying. It was true, Commander Adama was the most seasoned senior officer in the Fleet, he'd fought the Cylons in almost every battle the Galactica had fought since the Ghost Fleet campaign halfway through the war. So if these Earthers wanted to prove themselves by tangling with Basestars then only one person could give them a fighting chance if something were to go wrong. And Cain also understood one other point Fisk made, he had a personal stake in the success of the mission, it was his daughter that was the focus of the mission. But, it gave the Colonial Fleet their eyes in the other camp so that they could get a feel for these Earthers where it mattered.

"Get me the Galactica."

USS General George Hammond

"Colonel Carter, we've got a positive ID of the contact. It's a Colonial Raptor alright," came the voice of the commanding officer of the Alaska Battlegroup, "But it's rendezvoused with four large ships that appeared right after we showed up. We're out their sensor range and they're holding position. However, we lost her among some weird life signs readings. Ma'am I don't know what to make of it but we have no idea where in the ship she is. Awaiting orders."

"Very well Colonel, we're bringing aboard a few Colonials who knows all about these Cylons. We'll be there in just a moment," Carter replied ending the transmission.

She walked away from the screen in the back of the bridge and then started fiddling with a tablet, going over her ship's status for herself. But then she heard Mitchell enter the bridge with the familiar imposing figure of Commander Adama behind him along with two of his Viper pilots. Adama was wearing his normal blue and maroon dress uniform while his pilots were wearing flight gear. Each had a pistol holster that was empty thanks to the security personnel of the Hammond removing them. But the four Colonial Marines back on the flight deck were armed, along with four Galactica deck crew, plus Chief Tyrol, to make sure nothing broke on their Vipers or their Raptor. They were restricted to the hangar if they wanted to keep their weapons. But they could use 'the facilities' if they handed off their weapons before they left with one of Hammond's marines in tow. Their role wasn't just the stated one, they were there as observers, taking mental notes, making observations, and making certain the Colonial assets were respected from outright analysis.

Carter had been barely allowed to let Commander Adama aboard. O'Neill had at first been hesitant that the Colonials were not to see them in action unless it was absolutely necessary for them to defend themselves. Landry had been more amiable to the recommendation, however Jackson had gone on to point out the Colonials had been getting more and more pushy and aggressive thanks to the fact they had ships quite a bit larger than the Hammond. Carter also stated that Kelsey had seen quite a bit of Earth technology and if these Cylons were as hostile as the Colonials said then that kind of information was critical to Earth's security, the institutional fear of artificial intelligence that enemies such as the Replicators had instilled at the SGC did the rest. Jackson also wisely stated that a show of force against the Colonials' enemy to rescue Kelsey would be a good step towards establishing friendly relations and making the Colonials back off a bit by showcasing the capabilities Earth could bring to bear. But that still didn't do it for O'Neill, so Jackson pulled out the "he's family" card, which guilt tripped O'Neill, who knew the connection between a father and his children, into giving the go ahead. So, without consulting the IOA in any manner O'Neill and Landry approved, after all time was of the essence.

"Commander, welcome aboard the Hammond," Carter greeted holding out a hand.

"It's an honor, may I introduce Captain Lee Adama, call-sign Apollo, and Lieutenant Kara Thrace, call-sign Starbuck," he gestured to the man and woman staring out at the window of the Hammond's bridge.

"Are you Earthers' trying to kill yourselves?!" Starbuck blurted, saying it in a way that made Apollo groan internally at his fellow pilot's bluntness.

"Excuse me?" Carter replied.

"The window, how have you been in combat and not compromised your ship?" Apollo reasonably added.

"Well, we don't rely on armor like your fleet does," Carter said back, taking a seat at her chair, "We have something…different."

"Different?" Apollo asked, his mind starting to turn and began suspecting the alternative but didn't say so.

"We're ready to make the jump to rendezvous point," Major Harrison reported.

"Thank you Major, open hyperspace window," Carter ordered.

Immediately the purple greenish tint of hyperspace enveloped the ship and within a matter of seconds the Hammond reemerged in front of a formation four Earth Battlecruisers and a single Earth Battleship. The Colonials were quite perplexed by the odd method of faster than light travel but before any of them could say a word Carter spoke up as the Hammond maneuvered into formation. But they also took a very close look at the much bigger Earth warship taking the forefront of the formation. This was a vessel that merited further inspection for the Colonials, who recognized just by scale that this was no cruiser-sized vessel, even by Colonial standards this was a capital ship, albeit a small one.

Even before the direct threats to Earth itself had been defeated and the fleet began growing it seemed necessary to fold the more experienced Battlecruisers and their veteran crews into new formations to make sure that in every formation of Earth ships so there was some experience to back the arduous training every single crewman and pilot received. Normally the Hammond was attached to the Alaska Battlegroup, along with its newer All-American sister ships, the Gemini, Endeavor, Phoenix, and Prometheus (It was decided that Earth should always have a Prometheus in the fleet to honor the memory of Earth's first starship.). But the central ship of the formation was the Alaska, the first of the Taur'i Fleet's Battleships, commanded by Colonel Marks, who'd finally earned his own command. This was a ship whose development cycle had begun right at the same time as the BC-304's had gone into service.

At one thousand and fifty meters long it was quite a bit larger than the escorting six-hundred and fifty meter long Battlecruisers in formation around it and outmassed them by double the raw tonnage. These figures made Alaska-Class the largest implement of war ever constructed by Earth, being built in sections in vast underground facilities hollowed out using Asgard transporter arrays to burrow their way effortlessly into the Earth for the initial construction phase. The hull followed the same style as that of the BC-304's, with a proportionally longer and relatively smoother neck section and a more substantial main hull and larger hangars which were actually designed like that of a Colonial Battlestar, being able to launch forward and recover fighters from the rear openings in their hangars, although they didn't have the sideways launch tubes of the Colonial vessels. On top of the shell section of the ship was a much more substantial superstructure with more sensors and radars for controlling the ship's weapons and guide its fighters. In the stern was a dedicated portion of the hull for its engines and power plant, which, while larger than a BC-304's, were not nearly as energy-efficient due to the fact the Alaska-Class was Earth's first major combatant vessel designed without the aid of the Asgard. Even with the Asgard's knowledge core Earth had yet to reach even the first tier of the potential the Asgard computer core would one day provide the sciences present were so advanced. Still, Stargate Command and Homeworld Defense had quite a warship in the form of the Alaska.

The armament of the ship was divided into three different types, first were its direct kinetic guns, most numerous being sixty-eight twin turret point-defense rail gun turrets, same as the standard point defense guns for the rest of the Battlecruiser fleet. But this point-defense armament had been scaled up, twenty-eight armored turrets housing one of two new railgun designs unique to the Alaska-Class were present. The guns in these mid-sized weapons were 3-inch 60-caliber weapons, capable of firing thirty rounds a minute. But the Alaska's primary heavy battery had twelve twin heavy anti-ship railgun turrets, with both guns in these turrets being upscaled versions of the type that the SGC loved so much, but instead of their ubiquitous thirty-millimeter weapon, the Alaska's heavy turrets used 8-inch 60-caliber guns, which fired a long trinium-jacketed tungsten slug which hit with the same sort of energy as one of the Army's old 1950's tactical nukes when the gun was pushed to max velocity from the slugs' heavy weight and a jagged segmented construction meant a splintering effect would occur and send heavy energetic shrapnel in all directions, which worked very well against their primary intended targets, Wraith Hive Ships, at least so the theory went, but the guns had the ability to be toned down to reduce their lethality when disabling shots were required. These gun turrets were positioned with four of them behind the VLS cells in the main forward hull with two next to each other on sponsons with the other two on the ventral side of these sponsons. The other eight were split evenly with the ship having four on the top of its "shell" section in the main body of the ship while the other four were on the bottom of the hangars facing forwards and backwards. These turrets and their sensor packages were the most long-lead weapons items on the ship, leading to a major production bottleneck, second only to their engines and hyperdrives and the associated subsystems.

Then the ship had its missile batteries. Its main battery was three hundred and twenty vertical launch missile tubes, an SGC version of the Mk. 41 VLS, and then it had eight hundred Space Dome point defense missile tubes in recessed cells spread across the ship with three spare cells present where the empty cell would eject and be replaced. But, the primary ship-killer weapons system remained a familiar one, eight Asgard Plasma Beams. Together with all these weapons, it was the most powerful known ship in the known galaxy. It also carried a fighter compliment of forty F-302's, three squadrons-worth plus a few spare airframes with hangar space to spare along with a ventral bay with space for four U-306's. The ship's total size, armament suite, and fighter compliment also made it the largest in terms of crew, most of its systems were highly automated but it still needed a standard compliment of five hundred. But another advantage the Alaska and her sisters had was it could replenish ammunition, fuel, food, and some basic spare parts and tools with a matter synthesizer built into the design for both itself and the other ships in the formation, so long as it wasn't in combat where this power-hungry and computer-heavy replenishment system would actually work as intended. And to top it all off, their shields that were fifty percent stronger than a Battlecruiser. It seemed that the state of Alaska now had a true Battleship bearing its name, even if secretly.

"Commander, perhaps you'd like to inform us of what we might be facing?" Carter swiftly asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"I would as a matter of fact. I assume you've never fought the Cylons?" Adama said tactfully, rolling his shoulders back and got into the zone, time to earn your pay Adama.

"No, that's why you're here."

"The Cylons' primary ship of the line is what we call a Basestar. They're big, not terribly fast, and they prefer to use massed waves of Raiders and missiles. Their armor is decent, but in our experience have lacked the necessary strength to really shrug off repeated broadsides from our Battlestars. If you can draw away their Raiders and intercept or at least shrug off their missiles there's not much they can really do, which means they're as good as dead."

"And what sort of missiles can we expect to see coming our way?" Colonel Carter said.

"The Cylons have four basic types but there are subtle differences between some of them, but nothing too major. Two are ship-launched, two are Raider-launched. The first and most deadly are their nuclear warheads, and the second are their high explosive missiles. What they'll do is they'll launch a salvo of nukes before they launch their own Raider squadrons, it's designed to force the target's fighter screen to intercept these missiles and draw them away from the swarming Raiders that are always coming right behind the nukes. They're quite high yield, repeated strikes are more than enough to cripple or even destroy a Battlestar. The next missiles to be launched are their standard armor-piercing high explosive warheads. They try to target these into hanger bays, gun batteries, and weak points from any hits their nukes managed to open up so that boarding parties can then infiltrate and then destroy the target ship from within. The guidance system on these warheads is complex and accurate, if you give them a straight shot, they'll hit their target within inches, and each missile has independent tracking and evasion and they have lots of them."

"I see why your ships are so heavy on flak cannons," Mitchell grumbled.

"They do the job," Adama nodded.

"You said they carry fighters? What can you tell us about them?" Carter replied.

"We call them Raiders, the ones I fought were fast and maneuverable, equal to our Vipers in almost every respect except in atmospheric flight and vertical maneuvering due to a shorter nose. Thanks to a Cylon at the controls, they were impossibly well-coordinated and have no fear, which presents a weakness. They had a habit of luring a smaller force of Vipers into a trap and use sheer numbers to swarm and destroy their intended target. They are armed with cannons and missiles. A smaller more pinpoint nuclear warhead, and an anti-fighter missile. But it's been nearly forty years since I fought them, so they are bound to have made some improvements."

"And the Cylons themselves?" a deep burly voice grumbled from the hall, all heads turned to see Teal'c, standing with his hands behind his back.

"They're robots, we call them Centurions, around six and a half feet tall, heavily armored but aren't that fast or particularly innovative opponents in a firefight. They can be fairly easily outwitted so long as they are going into a situation with limited intelligence about the lay of the land or without overhead recon. However, whatever they aim at they tend to hit, one of the perks of being robots. If they manage to board a ship their primary target tends to damage control centers where they will vent a ship's atmosphere, economically destroying the vessel's ability to continue operations."

"What kind of weapons work against them?" Mitchell demanded.

"Heavy machine guns, armor piercing rounds, and explosives. But in a desperate situation I've always found a good old-fashioned beatdown works just as well," Adama informed them.

"Have you fought these Cylons in close combat?" Teal'c asked.

"Once or twice," he grumbled as he surveyed the gathered fleet of Earth ships, "But it was a long time ago."

"Thank you, Commander," Colonel Carter spoke up, then she placed her had to her ear to contact the other ships in the fleet. She turned away from the Colonials standing looking out at the amassed Earth fleet and began talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Do you think she's still alive?" Apollo was the first to speak.

"To be honest, I don't know," Adama whispered, checking over his shoulder at Carter who was speaking to the commander of the Earth flotilla, a fellow colonel, apparently getting command delegated to her "In the last days of the war the Galactica was part of a task force that participated in Operation Raptor Talon."

"Yeah, I remember that the Colombia was destroyed with all hands," Starbuck recalled herself, her own officer's schooling included having to do a report on that action.

"When the Columbia went up, I chased a pair of Raiders into the planet's atmosphere and I collided with one in the clouds, so I ejected and landed inside a Cylon lab on the surface. What I saw was…" the old man paused trying to find words to describe it, "They'd been experimenting on humans, trying to build something. A hybrid of biological and mechanical material. It wasn't the first time I'd seen something like it, but back then it looked like a mere meat locker. What I saw there was…a different kind of disturbing."

"Oh Gods…" Apollo said quietly, afraid of what might have befallen his only sibling, "We have to get her back before…"

"Nothing will happen to her," Starbuck hissed, "I'll see to it."

"No offense Starbuck but I don't think even you can take on a group of Basestars," Commander Adama grumbled.

"Watch me," the cocky blonde grinned as Colonel Carter walked up to them.

"Alright we've pinpointed which Basestar she's aboard and the fleet is prepped and ready. I suggest that your pilots man their fighters."

"Captain, Lieutenant, man your planes," Adama ordered, and received salutes from the two pilots who'd be joining the one hundred and twelve F-302's. As they left Carter walked up next to Adama and quietly said to him.

"Commander, I didn't want to bring this up with your pilots nearby. But when you arrived we scanned your Vipers and the Raptor you came in on and noticed something in its programming as a security precaution. A foreign virus, we took the liberty of removing it after running simulations on what the effects would be."

"A virus? What did it do?" Adama hissed, making sure Lee and Starbuck were indeed gone so they didn't hear him.

"It would have basically shut down every system on your ships. We have reason to believe that the programming is Cylon if the difference in the virus's structure and language was anything to go by. So, after the mission you'll need to alert your superiors, because it might have infected your entire network. I can have a full report on it if you'd like."

"Get me my people in the hangar?" Adama asked.

"Right here," Carter offered him a comm line to the hangar and Adama quickly picked it up, and there before him was Chief Tyrol, who'd volunteered to go with them to lead his best flight deck knuckle draggers, "Master Sergeant, Commander Adama to speak to his people."

"Yes ma'am," the voice of the Hammond's port deck chief called back, and soon Chief Tyrol was handed the phone.

"Chief Tyrol."

"Chief, this is the Commander, listen carefully, disable all networked connections aboard our planes and deactivate the Command Navigation Program. No time to explain, get it done chief."

"Yes sir," Tyrol said and immediately began giving orders over his shoulder and Adama nodded to Carter.

"Thank you, Colonel, now, shall we begin?"

Cylon Basestar

The Raptor was easily flown into the bay of the massive gaping hanger of the Cylon Basestar with the Cylon Number Four and a bound and dazed Kelsey Adama inside. She couldn't help but gaze out at the insides of the Cylon ship and be both disgusted and mesmerized. It wasn't the cold chromed appearance that she'd heard about and seen in film and documentaries. Instead, it was a gritty, fleshy biological material that made up the inside of the hanger. The Raptor just descended and landed with a soft squishy thump.

"Welcome aboard Lieutenant," Pyre chirped, then calmly walked to the hatch and opened it.

A million thoughts flooded her brain as she tried to make a guess at what would become of her. She was roughly hauled to her feet despite her thrashing and was shoved out of the Raptor. However, her foot caught, and she tripped and tumbled forward roughly striking her head on the steel wing of the ship before rolling off and flopping down onto a soft slimy floor. She groaned lightly as the pain in the side of her head throbbed about violently, just another bit of head trauma to add to her misery as she lay there, feeling the blood on her face already trickling down her eyebrows.

As she tried willing the pain to die away a soft hand brushed aside her hair over the place she'd hit her head. She could feel the sensitive stinging pain of the growing lump on her head already as a rather pleasant almost calming accented voice spoke.

"It's just a bad bump, no permanent damage," the masculine voice said rolling Kelsey onto her side with a jab from a polished dress boots.

She came face to face with a Cylon Number Five, his black hair slicked back and he had on a leather jacket and jeans with black boots. But it was what was silently standing behind the man was what terrified the young Colonial. A pair of massive Cylon Centurions stood side by side awaiting orders. Their red glowing eyes were swaying from side to side, scanning back and forth. They were not like the Centurions portrayed in museums and films, they were more streamlined, smooth edges, and much more armored.

"Bring her," Pyre ordered, and Centurions took several loud steps forward and hardly struggled to grab both of Kelsey's arms and lift her to her feet.

She was a little out of it to say the least as she tried resisting the Centurions' iron grips. But that didn't mean that Kelsey didn't fight, she did her best, digging her feels into the soft membrane of the Basestar's fleshy construction. More than once having her boot cut through the fleshy membrane that was the floor and getting stuck in the metallic piping and electrical wires underneath. The two Cylons led the way confidently, talking about the latest innovations, news, and most importantly, the contact the Colonies had recently had with the people of Earth. But none of that mattered to her, she had other things to be worrying about, like how she was going to get out alive. The Cylons seemed to be getting a perverse enjoyment out of watching her struggle. Soon they had entered a more hospitable and friendly part of the ship. But it was still cold, lifeless, devoid of anything remotely near what Kelsey was used to. The walls practically glowed with pulsating light, the floor was smooth and polished, it was like a hospital in its cleanliness. But that just added to the sheer feeling of danger that kept being added to the situation as she was dragged deeper and deeper into the belly of the metal beast.

But what she was most disturbed by was that there were humans working with the Cylons, no, not working with them, commanding them. The Centurions obeyed the orders of the men explicitly and without complaint. It was almost enough to make her boil herself with rage at these traitors to their own kind. But before she did that the two humans stopped at a door and opened it.

"I'll take it from here, why don't you go relax. She'll be talking in short order," the man replied, patting the other man on the back.

"Oh I know, I still remember the last Colonial you interrogated," he chuckled as he strode away.

"If you'll have a seat you and I can have our little chat," the other man taunted, walking in with a smile that was starting to creep onto his smug face.

Kelsey struggled vainly, her own body starting to tire from the constant fighting against the steel monsters holding her in vice grips that if held any tighter would break bone. But as she was dragged in she saw a single console and a chair with metal harnesses on it along with some sort of thing she guessed her head would go into. Her screams did no good as the Centurions cut off the zip ties holding her arms behind her back and very quickly and roughly shoved her down onto the chromed-out chair. Each Centurion expertly snapped on the cuffs, holding her to the chair securely and then strapped down her legs that were weakly thrashing about, hardly even bothering the Centurions.

"Comfy?" the man smirked as he came sauntering over.

"You frakking traitor!" Kelsey screamed, defiantly after spitting at the man.

"Now no need for language Lieutenant Adama, after all, you'd best not get on my bad side…" he grinned as he walked over to the console and then activated something on it.

And with a single twirl of a finger a single coursing pulse of pain rocked Kelsey's senses. It was like every kind of pain that could be felt was being sent through every muscle and nerve in her body. The pain was excruciating and she convulsed and let out a pained scream that she had never allowed escape before now. She thrashed against the metal cuffs as the pain subsided and she gasped for air trying to recover from the sheer mental trauma she'd just gone through.

"Now that I have your attention, I will explain how this shall work. I ask you a question, you give me answer. That shouldn't be too hard, right?" she growled, twirling her finger again on the console for a split second, sending another jet of pain that made Kelsey gasp out loud as she tried to suck in a gasp of air in reflex, "right?"

Kelsey just managed to croak out a defiant, "Frak you."

"Spunky, I like that."

"Why are you helping the Cylons? Why are you betraying your own people?!" Kelsey tried speaking up.

"Well, it's hard to betray something like Humanity, after all, it is a complete cesspool, so I chose something more my style, perfection, purposeful, without emotion and without pity. The last of which we have in common."

"What?" Kelsey groaned, fighting off the still throbbing pain while trying to digest what she was being told.

"You see, the Cylons have evolved in the intervening years since you saw them last. They've gone from destroying Humanity to letting it destroy itself. Poetic isn't it? Now, the Cylons are the superior beings."

"Impossible, Cylons are machines, you can't be…AH!"

The pain returned again in waves, it pulsed from the worst thing that she'd ever experienced to biblical proportions in long increments for nearly thirty seconds. She tried to hold back screams of pain but they still slipped out in the form of cries of agony to teeth gritting and hissing whenever the pain waves dulled down slightly. Her eyes clamped so tightly together she doubted they'd ever open again. But mercifully it ended as the man spoke again.

"What did you see of Earth?"

"A…a day spa," Kelsey managed to valiantly squeeze out.

Another burst of pain, this one much more intense practically overwhelmed her senses and this time, no amount of discipline and mental strength could keep the screams of pain from flowing like a river.

"You were there, you are the only Colonial to ever see Earth. Tell me now."

"Frak…you…" Kelsey groaned, now her every word came out as barely a whisper. She couldn't focus on anything outside of the pain flooding in from every nerve in her body.

"Oh you'd prefer the rape tactic would you?" the Cylon chuckled as he dialed up the pain again but let go as he tapped a finger against his chin in fake contemplation, "All in good time, when we're done here I might see if we can have a little fun before you're disposed of."

Every nerve screamed out in agony and desperation as the Cylon device tortured her like nothing ever before conceived. She couldn't hold back a few tears the pain was squeezing out as well. Blood started to drip from her nose and ears as the device intensified its effects for longer and longer periods of time. It wasn't easy to remain defiant in the face of such pain and utter misery. But she had to be strong, not just for her own people, but for Earth's people as well. If the Cylons found Earth it would all be over, and it would be her fault because she couldn't take physical pain.

Kelsey continued to be racked by the unbearable pain coursing through every fiber of her being. Her body flailed against the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. The only thing that prevented her from rubbing them raw was her thick flight gear.

"Am I interrupting?" a voice suddenly called out as footsteps began to approach.

"Speak of the devil…" the man rolled his eyes and turned to an old man who was walking in, "What is it Cavil? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry to ruin your fun, but we have a situation. Six ships matching the configuration of the Earth ship we detected have just entered DRADIS range. We need you in the command center."

"Very well," the Cylon grumbled, "Don't get your hopes up Adama, we'll continue shortly."

"A pity," Cavil mumbled, "You might have had quite a life as the girl who found Earth."

Cavil gently brushed a stray strand of hair out of Kelsey's face without resistance. She was just too exhausted, the torture had been effective, her energy levels were at an all-time low, her thoughts were sluggish and couldn't even make sense of what she could try mumbling to herself. Sweat was beading all over her body, and her heart was racing as the adrenaline finally subsided. All she now wanted was sleep. But she knew she couldn't not while she was still a prisoner. The two Cylons left, and the door shut tight and she was left alone once more.

USS General George Hammond

"All ships are in formation Colonel," Major Harrison called out.

"Launch all fighters, prep rail guns for long range anti-missile fire. Load up half our missile tubes with Mark Nines and the other half with standard warheads," Colonel Carter said, "And hail the Cylon ships."

"Yes ma'am, you're on."

"Attention Cylon ships, this is the Earth Defense Ship General George Hammond, please respond over."

"No response, Cylons are launching Raiders. Sensors are detecting over a thousand."

"How many fighters do you have?" Commander Adama asked.

"One hundred and twelve."

"You won't be able to take that many Raiders head-on. I would suggest that you use your flak to thin them out some."

"We still haven't let diplomacy run its course," Carter said.

"You can't negotiate with the Cylons, we tried once. It didn't work out so well. For over a decade we fought a war to prevent our own extinction, our worlds were nuked, and our people were murdered in the millions. There's only one alternative for the Cylons, and it won't involve negotiating."

"Nonetheless, we have our rules of engagement."

"I understand," Adama nodded, not liking it, but adhering the fact he wasn't in command here.

"Attention Cylon ships, we know that you have a Colonial hostage aboard your ship and we demand that you turn her over, respond in sixty seconds or you will be treated as hostile and engaged as such," Carter called over the radio, trying to keep her voice even and professional.

There was a moment of utter silence until the Lieutenant next to Carter suddenly piped up.

"Colonel I'm detecting an attempt at forced entry into our computer network from the Cylon ships. Attempted entry matches the type of digital architecture of what we found on the Colonial systems."

"Is there a threat?" Carter asked.

"Negative, our firewalls stopped it cold."

"Looks like they have no intention of being diplomatic," Commander Adama grumbled as he watched the clouds of Cylon Raiders glisten in the distance as the prowled around, staying close to their motherships. Then came trails from missiles that began to emerge from the Cylon formations of Raiders and the Basestars themselves.

"Incoming missiles, signature matches nuclear weapons, I count over sixty incoming warheads interspersed with over two hundred conventional warheads. Looks like they're trying to swamp us."

Adama paled at the figures. Not even Battlestars could take out that many missiles coming their way, and then they had to take into account over a thousand Raiders that would certainly be closing to engage with guns. Then these Earth ships had tiny fighter compliments to pick up the slack for these small ships. Things weren't looking good at all. If only Galactica were here. But as he looked out at the Earth personnel with him on the bridge he was astounded by the calm demeanor displayed by them all.

"All batteries commence firing."

Torrents of armor piercing slugs went soaring from the batteries of the Earth ships towards the swarms of missiles as their own missiles lanced out in addition to their guns. Immediately the excellent targeting systems of the gun batteries of the Battlecruisers and the Battleship's two different weapons types together began swatting away the Cylon missiles rapidly at long range as the kinetic contact Space Dome missiles smacked into the enemy nukes, launching with such frequency that they appeared like Atlantean Drones, swarming in the dozens and dozens towards their targets. But the Cylon warheads were attached to a more developed and advanced space-capable missile than the Earth versions, and some began to slip through, the independent maneuvering computers of the missiles innately dodging their pursuers and predicting the ballistic trajectory of their guns and began getting more erratic and activated their terminal velocity motors as they came in close.

"How many left?" Carter asked as the missiles started to spread out and seek their individual targets.

"Four left aiming to hit us, the other ships are facing similar numbers. The Alaska could be hit by as many as eight."

"Then she's probably had it," Adama said watching the missiles swirl towards the Earth flagship, impressed by the balance the Earth formation was displaying in engaging with a mixture of missile and gun battery weaponry.

The nuclear warheads snaked their way towards the Earth ships Adama couldn't help but say a silent prayer for the crew of these ships and himself. What they were doing was valiant and noble. This fleet had risked itself for someone they had only known for a couple months. Or was there a different reason, one that the Earthers didn't want to share, one which Admiral Cain had told him to be on the lookout for. And remembering this Adama realized that the gamble they were taking was now coming true, the Earthers were flexing, and the Cylons were the ones to pay the price.

But the thoughts left his head as the first Earth ships were hit. He saw it at first when a conventional warhead hit a whitish-blue object ahead of the lead Earth ship, the Endeavour. But this was soon masked by the next hit and he pulled a hand up over his eyes. The Endeavour took three simultaneous hits from the Cylon nukes just as it managed to swat away the fourth. Bright brilliant light enveloped the entire ship as the nukes detonated. But soon the Phoenix took two more hits, followed by the Gemini with five nukes. Then the Alaska took eight hits in rapid succession from each other. Then the Hammond rocked and rumbled as two nukes hit her forward of the bridge. Light nearly blinded everyone on the bridge but the screen darkened to lessen the bright light's effect on their retinas. Adama was stunned to see that the ship was not breaking apart from the hits she just took, then two more nukes struck them, splashing against the shield of the BC-304. The fragile window he thought could have killed them all was still there, in fact, there was something else out there. A bright blue bubble surrounded the Hammond, as well as the other ships in the formation. The Prometheus in the rear of the formation made out without taking a hit thanks to having more time to knock out the nukes that were aiming for it, so the shielding of the Battlecruiser was not nearly as prevalent.

"What the…" Adama managed to say quietly as he examined the result of the Cylon attack, or rather, the lack thereof.

"Shields are holding at ninety eight percent."

"All main systems are still operating at one hundred percent."

"What'd they hit us with?" Carter asked, arching an eyebrow at the fairly high-yield nuclear weapon that the Cylons had hit them with.

"Likely a tylium-spiked nuke. We use them in our heavy anti-ship nukes as well," Adama informed her.

"Interesting," Carter said, hearing the name tylium and as she looked over at the radiation signature she saw something familiar on her sensor station's readouts, the same family of radiation wavelengths produced by Taur'i naquadah-enhanced nuclear weapons, albeit less pronounced in their presence.

"All ships accelerate to battle speed and close on the enemy ships. All weapons to target Cylon Raiders, launch nukes in ripple fire. Set them to go off within the Raider formation. Prepare the rescue team," Colonel Carter ordered calmly and serenely.

"What happened? What did I just see?" Adama asked, his mind clinically analyzing the situation, knowing that this was not a big development, it was a huge development and one that he wanted to know more about.

"We don't have nearly as thick the armor plating your ships do, but we have something else entirely, a powerful energy field that can deflect anything from a solar flare to a nuke, as you just witnessed," Carter said as the other ships accelerated straight towards the Cylon ships.

"Then I have to wonder why you bothered intercepting the missiles," Adama quipped.

Missiles jetted out of vertical launchers and flew straight towards the oncoming tide of Cylon Raiders as more and more Cylon missiles were launched against the Earth formation. Dozens of standard warheads were completely ignored as rail guns opened up with a vengeance on the Raider squadrons. Dozens of the sleek crescent-shaped craft were knocked out of the fight as they swarmed against the Earth ships and the nuclear missiles that had been launched against them. Their Hybrids had ordered them to protect the Basestars against the oncoming nuclear barrage but had failed to take into account the fact they too were targets. The Cylons targeted the nukes with missiles, trying to knock them out from long range, but the speed and numbers of the Earth warheads prevented success. When the remaining missiles in the first wave of nukes detonated in the midst of the Raider fleet the Hybrids in their tanks convulsed and cried out in pain at the sudden and disastrous losses incurred on them. More than half the Raider fleet was vaporized by the modified Mark IX warheads which enveloped them in a heat wave and radiation field so massive the DRADIS on the Basestars shut itself within an armored shell to protect itself from frying, although many of the hybrid biological-mechanical Raiders were not nearly so fortunate. Most of the fleet of Raiders was utterly stunned, floating around as more nuclear warheads exploded in their midst further hampering their ranks' ability to fight.

Then, the formations of Earth fighters joined the fight, keeping their distance but launching missiles. Wave after wave of Space Sparrow missiles impacted the helpless Raiders and practically wiped out what was left of the formerly twelve hundred strong attack waves, leaving barely four hundred dazed and malfunctioning Raiders to stop the tide of battle that had now turned very much against them. Their attention was now split, many now recovering and vectoring to engage the Earth warships while others, a lesser number, went after the F-302's.

The Basestars began moving to screen the ship in the rear of their own formation and began firing just about every missile they had. But the flashing of the explosions against the shields proved that they weren't doing anything to dissuade the Earth warships. The Alaska was now engaging, its railgun turrets firing from long range. The target of the warship was the FTL of the target Basestar, then began working over its compatriots to prevent an escape. Whitish-blue lances slamming into the ships in volleys. The Earth ships began breaking formation, swinging around their flanks to bring more of their deadly weapons to bear.

"Fire Mark VIII's on the nearest Basestar," Carter ordered, "Target the central core of the ship."

And before Commander Adama he saw a missile launch from the body of the Earth ship and speed away, swerving randomly before it struck the Cylon Basestar, and enveloped the vessel in brilliant white light. The explosion itself basically ripped the port side of the Basestar wide open and tore off one of the bottom arms. When the light faded the Basestar was almost entirely disabled with fires and smoke radiating away from it. The Basestar's hull began to fragment as the explosions continued to rip it open. The entire top half of the pointed ship was then blown clean off, with explosions gutting it as the dogfighting Raiders and 302's swarmed around it.

The Earth fighters were having a field day with the Cylon Raiders, thanks in no small measure to the advice they had gotten from Commander Adama, not to get into a close turning fight with the Raiders. Each pilot had scored several kills with only about a dozen of their own number succumbing to the diminishing force of Raiders, although no pilots had been reported killed, the large wings of the fighters providing alternate targets and the cockpits were armored enough to protect the crews. The 302's had a much tougher hull that was able to remain intact from the hits from the small-caliber cannons that the Cylon fighters connected with on rare occasion. It was only a missile or hits to their engines that brought them down. But with the Raiders it was like cutting butter with a hot knife. Their fragile wings and 'cockpit' were easily ripped apart by the F-302's cannons and missiles. The two Vipers amongst them were having an even better day. Starbuck and Apollo had far superior maneuvering and dogfight training in zero gee, while the Earth pilots were maneuvering like they were in atmosphere. Each Colonial pilot had by now become a double ace, downing more than a dozen Raiders with ease. The nuclear blasts, coupled with enormous casualties flooding their neural processors had made the Raiders sluggish and unresponsive to orders from the remaining Basestars.

Then the Alaska opened up with its guns and missiles, the heavy slugs of the medium and heavy railguns knifing through the arms of the ship, tearing pieces of them completely off. Blooming explosions followed the slugs' passage and gutted the Basestar's main hull and the ship finally succumbed to the overwhelming fire and its main reactor detonated in a colossal explosion the ripped the ship completely into pieces. The Hammond likewise followed suit, blasting away at close-range, much like that of their Colonial cousins intended on doing.

"We have a transporter lock Colonel," Major Harrison piped up.

"Send the team," Colonel Carter ordered.

"Yes ma'am."

Adama watched as the three other Earth Battlecruisers swarmed the third Basestar and virtually vaporized the entire ship with a total of three nukes hitting the ship all in sequence alongside railgun rounds and conventional missiles. What he'd just seen would have made the best science fiction director drool with envy. But more importantly what he'd just seen would have taken an equal sized group of Battlestars nearly twenty minutes, and quite a few casualties if not the loss of one or two Battlestars. Yet these Earthers had easily swept away the Cylons with a flick of the wrist and the push of a button. The proof was floating lifeless before him, the remnants of a Cylon fleet and a formation of Earth ships surrounding a damaged Basestar that had his daughter aboard. By now the F-302's had finished off the Cylon's once mighty fighter compliments and were roving the hull of the Basestar, smashing its missile batteries and engines to prevent it from jumping away.

"Colonel," Major Harrison called out, "They're in."