BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: Why She Isn't Wireless Or Networked

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My muse is, yet again, off on a tangent. I cannot control her. Not even the rebooted Galactica is exempt from her attentions. Help me!

Plus the surname Citona is pronounced with a hard 'k' sound, as if spelled 'Kitona', not with a soft 'c'. That's Virgons for you. :)

Then again, 'knife' is spelled with a k...or, according to Picard, an n. ;)

And just how did Adama get that husky voice? This is answered here!

Finally, I always thought Virgon was short-changed in the series, only mentioned once, and by a Hybrid at that: 'The forests of Virgon are burning'. So I thought we'd have a Virgon family, show a little Virgon culture. Hey, it's my fic! 😋

President Roslin's quarters

Late at night on Colonial One

After Cain is murdered by Gina Inviere

Laura Roslin answered the phone, replying to a councillor's query about her latest policy announcement. As she finished the call and hung up, she regarded the phone with mild contempt. "On Caprica we were accustomed to non-physical communication media. William -"

"As long as I live, Galactica stays wired," he interrupted her brusquely. "Going wireless makes hacking far too easy for the Cylons."

"I suppose," she sighed. "How did that start, anyway?"

"With me," he smiled.

She looked askance at him. "You'll forgive me if I don't act surprised."

He chuckled. "It was a long time ago. I was still a lieutenant in the Colonial forces on Galactica. At that time we were, in fact, considering a networked system. Then I got mistakenly transferred to the Pacifica."

"Transferred?" she frowned. "That's not mentioned in your record."

"I know," he nodded, "by order of 3C -"

"Who?"

He chuckled. "Commander, shortly afterwards Admiral, Carmen Citona. She told me once she was actually relieved to be promoted - she could ditch that frakking nickname. Anyway, by her direct order it was redacted."

Laura looked thoughtful. "Hmm. She commanded the Atlantia, didn't she?"

Adama raised an eyebrow. "With respect, Madam President, I'm surprised you'd know."

She shrugged. "Legislation to equalise women's opportunities, rights and authority was put in place a couple of hundred yahrens before either of us was born, and rightly so," she began.

He nodded. "I agree. Nothing to stop women doing well in the military - there are ways to compensate for the difference in upper-body strength which even the most rabid feminist like you must admit to."

Laura swatted him. "I am not rabid." He chuckled. "Of course there are differences, only a fool would pretend otherwise. And you're right, a woman can overcome them. Starbuck is the best example, and no-one with any sense would ever believe she was less than capable. But the law is one thing - however, the attitudes against women took longer to fade, which is why I made it a policy yahrens ago to keep myself apprised on women in such high posts, military and not. I met Carmen at a soirée once, about a yahren after her promotion. A very impressive woman, as I recall."

"Yeah. Admirals don't usually command single Battlestars, but she did. Actually," he recalled, smiling, "one of the Joint Chiefs once tried to query her assumption of command. She said, 'Do I have authority or do I not?' He conceded that she did. 'So frak you and the daggit you rode in on!' she told him." Both chuckled now. "By all accounts she was as good as Masters on Columbia. I entirely agree - she knew what she was doing." He paused. "Then, and on the mission she commanded which helped to defeat what the Cylons were doing, and their new networking advances. I'm proud to say I flew on that mission."

"Go on," Laura requested.

"Actually, it didn't start on Atlantia."

"Do tell," she encouraged him, fascinated.

He did.

Battlestar Galactica BSG 75, Wardroom

8th Yahren of the First Cylon War (before Adama met Jaycie McGavin)

"Hey, Husker," Gambit (Captain Tony Brittain) called, "get your ass to CIC right now."

Rising from his bunk, Lieutenant William Adama ('Husker,' his callsign had become, given his gravelly voice, the result of a Caprican terrorist getting lucky with a stray shot and nicking his throat before he returned fire and blew the frakker away) inquired, "What's up?"

"Transfer orders," Gambit frowned.

"Now?" Husker too frowned. "Talk about bad timing - we're on a push against the toasters."

Gambit shrugged. "Ours not to reason why."

"Guess not."

BSG 75, CIC

Shortly after

"Lieutenant Adama reporting as ordered," he saluted the XO, Colonel George Makin. Commander Silas Nash was down temporarily with a mild fever, so Makin was the acting CO.

Makin nodded, wasting no time. "Fleet FUBAR, I suspect, but orders are orders. You're to report to Pacifica immediately - not sure in what capacity." He shook his head. "Every order headed with code DX-723, I wonder 'what the frak is Command playing at now?'. I heard tell of a guy, Saul Tigh, got transferred three times in one day - and every time his CO hadn't a frakkin' clue as to why. Same auth code. Dunno what HR's up to these days."

"Maybe the Cylons got to it, sir," Husker joked. Had he known just how prophetic his words were, he'd have stayed on Galactica, orders or no orders.

"As likely an explanation as any," Makin shrugged, acknowledging his joke. "Still, there it is in black and white," he gave Adama the printout.

Husker too shrugged. "Has to be a mistake, sir. But as you say, orders are orders. I'll go."

He went.

Battlestar Pacifica BSG 73, CIC

In orbit of Scorpia

As he had earlier, Adama saluted his superior officer, Commander John Raine, who didn't look pleased to see him.

"What the frak are you doing here, Lieutenant?" he groused.

Adama frowned. "Orders, sir." He proffered the printout.

Raine also frowned. "No-one said anything to me," he complained. "I have a full complement. Don't need a pilot, even if he is rated on a Raptor. Hey, Terry," he addressed his XO, a tall willowy blonde with green eyes, "you know anything about this?"

Colonel Terry McAndrews did indeed, and sighed like the long-suffering officer she was. "Let me guess: the order's auth code starts with DX-723?""

"Sight unseen," Raine marvelled, "that, Lieutenant, is why McAndrews is my XO. If she lives that long, I see her commanding her own Battlestar."

Terry sighed again, and turned to Adama. "We've had a spate of orders like that coming out ever since the last upgrade, Lieutenant - officers being transferred for no reason. If we had a shortage of pilots I could understand it, but if anything we're top-heavy right now." She checked, and shook her head. "Nope. Nothing in our system, Commander."

"Then it is a mistake," Adama nodded. "FUBAR. Thought so. Sir, permission to disembark."

But Raine shook his head. "I don't believe in wasting personnel, even if it is a mistake. You're rated on a Raptor, I can tell by your insignia. So get down to the Flight Deck for your patrol assignment."

"Sir, I -"

"Clearly you have no problem obeying orders. So here are mine: report to the CAG ASAP for patrol duty. Might as well use you while you're here. Meanwhile, Terry," he turned to her, "query this with Command. As soon as we get the all-clear, his ass is going back to - which is it, Galactica? Yeah, there."

Adama sighed, but saluted. "Sir."

But Adama didn't miss the XO's apologetic look. As he was leaving, Raine ordered, "Okay, Terry, make our scheduled jump to Deltris."

"Deltris, aye, sir," Terry nodded, and they jumped.

"Report."

"Jump complete; all decks read nominal, sir," she reported.

"Deploy the pods, JIC," he instructed; it was SOP for a Battlestar to deploy her pods after a jump - Just In Case, so the top brass had it.

She nodded and did so. That was one of the last normal things that would occur aboard Pacifica.

BSG 73, Flight Deck

"Hey," Adama addressed a pair of (shapely even in Colonial uniform, he couldn't help but notice) legs sticking out from under a Raptor, "I'm looking for the CAG."

The figure cursed and hauled herself out. "What d'you want that waste of skin for?" She stood, and he appraised her.

Gods, she was gorgeous.

Very tall - a little taller than him, in fact. Widely spaced grey eyes with a spark of amusement, as if she were having a private joke with the universe. High cheekbones and a practical crop of blonde hair. With his practised eye for the ladies, he readily noted her 36Cs.

(Author's Note: The Twelve Colonies have a measure of length, the incon, which is the Colonial equivalent of an inch. Thus Colonial womens' bra size measurements are exactly the same - a 36C on Caprica is the same as a 36C on Earth.)

Her hips, too, were broad, indicating she'd be a good mother in the (as he soon discovered) unlikely event she ever had kids. The smudge of grease on her cheek detracted not one bit from her attractiveness.

Her eyes were bold.

She noticed his scrutiny and preened. "You like?"

He chuckled. Women had long been awarded equal status in the Colonial Fleet. Many Admirals were female...and hard as nails, like Sasha Masters, commanding Columbia. Imply that they were anything but equal and you'd earn a sock in the jaw at the very least. Hell, there were female Colonial Marines, many of whom were as gung-ho as their male colleagues - if not more so. "Sorry. Old habit."

"Oh, I'm not offended," she smiled, "I like being appreciated. Captain Belinda Bellringer," she half-bowed, "callsign 'Falcon'."

"Bowing isn't exactly SOP," he observed.

She frankly leered, and returned saucily, "As you'll find, neither am I. Hmm, you're from Galactica, I see," she read his insignia. "She's Jupiter-class, right?"

Adama nodded. "She's getting on a little, but I'd rack her up against the toasters anytime. Lieutenant William Adama, callsign 'Husker'," he introduced himself. "Sir, I have orders from Commander Raine to report to the CAG ASAP."

She sighed. "Lemme guess: you're here by accident, the usual kinda Fleet frak-up, but Raine wants to put you to work anyway. He's like that. Yeah, I hear a couple of Battlestars are receiving people they haven't asked for. Still, we'll find somewhere. Husker, huh? Yeah, it fits. I like it."

"I think Raine wants me to go on patrol in a Raptor," Adama informed her.

She grinned. "What he wants with a mistakenly transferred pilot is one thing. What he'll get," she licked her sensuous lips, "is another. Hey, sexy!" she called, startling Adama.

A tall, handsome officer in a major's uniform sighed in exasperation. "How many times, Cap? Officers and sex do not go together!"

"They do in my book," she purred, stroking his chest.

"I thought you Virgons were supposed to be pure," he complained.

Bellringer chuckled. "Pure metals are strong, but alloys are stronger."

"If we're using a metal analogy, you," he reproached her, "have impurities."

"Which make me more fun, and you know it," she riposted.

He gazed tiredly at Adama. "Total sexpot. If she wasn't the hottest pilot I have, in line for CAG, I'd be busting her ass so far down she'd be saluting civvies. How's Two-Nine coming along?" he indicated the Raptor she'd been working on.

"Done, as is Two-Six," she smiled. "They just need a reboot."

"Lieutenant…?"

"Adama, sir."

"...Adama, you're on Two-Nine," Major Ian Sallis ordered.

"Yes, sir," Adama nodded. He addressed the Captain again. "That's a traditional Virgon name, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Yeah, it is, dating all the way back to the Exodus from Kobol. Well done. Yours...you sound Caprican, the huskiness notwithstanding, but I'm sure 'Adama' is a Tauron name, just as old, rooted in the soil."

He nodded. "My father was a Tauron immigrant - well, a refugee, actually, from the Tauron Civil War."

"Ouch," she winced. She spoke softly in Tauron, saying, "My sympathies."

"Thanks. Not many people speak it nowadays," he complimented her.

Bellringer grinned. "Oh, I don't - I picked up a few words from my Colonial History teacher, she was Tauron." Now she looked lascivious. "You know the old stereotype of Virgons being pure, spiritual and chaste?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's mostly true...in every case except one." She licked her lips in a way that could not be interpreted as anything other than sexual.

I bet she's fun in bed, he couldn't help thinking.

"Behave, Bellringer," the CAG chided.

"Make a change," she quipped, and Adama chuckled.

Damn right it will, Sallis couldn't help thinking wryly. But as mischievous as she often was, one thing she never kidded about was her flying. At the Academy she held at least three flight records, and had briefly served as a test pilot for the brand-new Viper V, which had a lot of bugs to work out. During a briefing she was always absolutely silent unless asked a question by the CAG, and she never gave a facetious answer. Pilots often competed for the right to be her wingman...because it was almost a 100% guarantee that they'd make it home alive. She had never, ever left a wingman.

And no wingman had ever left her.