BSG 73, CIC

At the same time

"Sir?" Terry frowned from the DRADIS station. She shouldn't have been there, but often she was; she liked to keep her hand in, and Raine gave her a free hand as long as she got the job done. Hell, she'd been known to do maintenance on the Vipers and Raptors; the deck hands were always glad to see her, pleased to see an officer gettin' down an' dirty. "Got a bogey on DRADIS, extreme range, on 229 carom 061. Can't make it out yet."

"One of ours?"

Now she shook her head. "No Colonial ID. I don't think it's a Cylon ship, though. Hold on - we're receiving a transmission."

"Let's hear it."

There was a sudden screech. Like one of the old modems, she had time to think.

And then everything went to hell.

Abruptly CIC's doors slammed shut and locked - bisecting an unlucky comms tech who'd been passing through them. There was a spray of blood, and horrified screams from a comms tech. The safety overrides should've stopped that, she thought, repulsed.

Then the CSO frowned. "What the -? Commander, my system's going crazy! And - FTL One is spinning up, but FTL Two isn't! I -" His panel exploded, sparks flying.

Terry tried the doors, but they were securely locked. "Commander, we're in lockdown! What the frak -?!"

John Raine was something of an officious slacker as commanders went. But sometimes he found resolution and got the job done. This was why Admiral Masters hadn't demoted him: the times when he didn't slack off more than made up for the times when he did. This was one of those not-frakking-up times. "Sound Action Stations!" he rapped.

Nodding, Terry did so - and then his console exploded in his face, killing him.

BSG 73, Flight Deck

Same time

As the Action Stations sounded, Sallis commanded, "Bellringer, your Viper! Launch stations!" he ordered her and the entire deck.

All business now, as she always was whenever flight was involved, Belinda raced to her Viper III. But as she started to clamber into the cockpit, there was a sudden flash as she was catapulted out by an electric shock. So were several other pilots boarding their Vipers as ordered. One, screaming in agony, was transfixed, unable to let go of the stair rail owing to the involuntary convulsion of her hand. She collapsed, her eyes still open, but clearly dead.

"Bellringer!" Sallis cried as she hit the deck unmoving. He rapidly examined her - he could see severe electrical burns.

Her eyes were open, but she wasn't breathing.

"CPR!" he snapped to a stunned Adama, laying her flat on the deck - only to scream as the electricity hit him, too. Adama was spared only because he was standing on an insulated strip. But Raptor Two-Nine was close. He gathered himself not unlike a cat and sprang, landing inside the Raptor. He called out to the few deck officers still standing on similarly insulated strips, "The floor's electrified! Don't stand on it unless you're insulated!"

"Sir," an ensign cried, "what's happening?!"

Frakked if I know, Adama thought. "Can you get to a phone, call CIC?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so," she ventured, stepping carefully along the strip. Michelle Fairweather reached the phone and quavered, "CIC, Flight Deck, Ensign Fairweather here. We've got several casualties from an electrical fault! What the frak's going on?"

BSG 73, CIC

"It's not a fault," Terry, now the CO, answered bleakly. "Sabotage. Before CIC sealed us in and went down, we picked up a bogey. It put out a signal, there was a screech like an old modem and then our software went haywire. Must be a new Cylon weapon, subverting our systems. It seems to be spreading through the network. Ensign, are any ships viable?"

"Uh, Raptors Two-Six and Two-Nine were offline for maintenance when whatever the frak that was hit, sir," she replied. "So they weren't affected. Every other ship was, though. I think we can reboot those Raptors. I have a pilot for Two-Nine at least, and," unseen by McAndrews, another ensign gave her a thumbs-up, "yes, Two-Six also has a pilot."

"Survivors?"

"Uh, I think no more than ten, sir," Michelle despaired, "including three civvies who were visiting relatives."

"Okay. Here are your orders - yeah, I'm the CO now," she cast a regretful glance towards the huddled form of her former commander, "Raine is dead - he was caught by his exploding console. Your orders: Abandon ship. I say again, abandon ship. Every computer system on Pacifica has been compromised - frankly I'm amazed our comms are still working, maybe the toasters didn't think of the internal com systems. Regard everything as dangerous and get the frak off this ship. Is that clear, Ensign?"

"Y - yes, sir. Are you okay?"

But Terry sighed. "No. We're sealed in, CIC is in total lockdown. Nothing we can do - the doors locked and the lock fused, so they're welded shut. We've no gear to open them."

"Sir, we could -"

"Ensign, I appreciate you thinking of us. But there isn't time - FTL One is spinning up on its own. Damn toasters got to that, too. Pacifica is about to explode. So get off this ship. Alert the Fleet. And," she sighed, "may the Gods have mercy on us all."

BSG 73, Flight Deck

Adama, stepping carefully along the strip just as Michelle had, overheard Terry's order. "We have our orders, Ensign. As the ranking officer -"

"You're a lieutenant, and you're not even assigned here -"

"As the ranking officer," he overrode her forcefully, "I'm taking command! So carry out the CO's orders! Anyone still alive on this deck," he yelled, "get into Two-Six and Two-Nine! We're taking off! Ensign, with me!"

"Sir, CIC -"

"There's nothing we can do," he said in a lower voice. "McAndrews knows that. That's why she gave that order. We can honour her sacrifice back at Fleet. We have to warn them about this new Cylon weapon." He shook her. "So come on!"

"Captain Bellringer -" she tried to protest, seeing Belinda's corpse. Though no-one knew it, she and Belinda had been FWBs for about a yahren after Michelle was commissioned and, by sheer good luck, assigned to Pacifica (she was an avionics expert, and the Battlestar just happened to need one). Though their affair had come to a natural and amicable end, with the two remaining friends, Michelle still harboured feelings for the older woman.

"She's gone," he cut her off with regret. She'd seemed a fun officer, but now she was dead.

Michelle choked back a sob and complied. May the Gods keep you safe, my love. Kill the toasters in heaven, if toasters have one!

They made their way back to Two-Nine. Three harried-looking maintenance techs and another ensign were now seated inside, the ensign looking frightened. Adama glanced over at Two-Six, which was powering up under her pilot's direction. He had - were those three civvies? - with him. Rapidly he brought the Raptor online. "Hang onto your hats!" he ordered as he pushed the throttle forward. Some sixth sense warned him as his ship and Two-Six darted out of Pacifica's starboard pod. "Two-Six, evasive!" he snapped.

None too soon, as Pacifica's defences opened up on the two Raptors.

"Sir, she's firing on us!" Michelle screamed in incredulous horror.

"Hadn't noticed!" he shot back, wrenching his controls in a 2-D skew flip. Two-Six did the same, but took a minor hit. "Nearest Battlestar! Come on, Ensign, get with it!"

"Uh - the - the Atlantia should be in the Proxis system, sir," she quavered.

He nodded. "Two-Six, set FTL for Proxis!"

"Two-Six, roger," her pilot answered.

"Jump in twenty!" Adama rapped. The ensign was looking back sadly at Pacifica. Abruptly she gasped in horror.

Pacifica's main drive was glowing strangely, one-sided. It looked...wrong.

Suddenly she knew what was going to happen.

Adama saw it, too - and instantly reached the same correct conclusion. "Forget twenty! Jump NOW!" he roared, and did so.

Just as Pacifica tore herself apart and exploded violently, as the vibrations from her totally unbalanced FTL drive rippled through her. It was more than her superstructure could take, and it didn't.

The ensign sobbed. Now Belinda couldn't even be buried, Gods preserve her.

Raptors Two-Six and Two-Nine

Coming out of jump

The home star of Proxis showed yellow-white as they emerged from jump, the system's single planet shadowed by it. In orbit of Proxis One, he hoped, would be the Battlestar Atlantia. She was Mercury-class like Pegasus, a newer Battlestar. But give me the old Jupiters any day, he thought fondly. He looked back into the cabin. "Everyone okay?"

"Shaken up," Ensign Quentin Ash nodded unsteadily, "but we're still here, El-Tee."

"Good," he nodded. "Two-Six, Two-Nine - do you read?"

"Five-by-five, Two-Nine," Ensign Glen Harker responded. "Ensign Glen Harker here."

"Were those civvies I saw with you? What were they doing on Pacifica?"

"Yes, sir. One of our techs had relatives visiting, they were cleared as per SOP. Sir, what the frak happened?"

"I'm not sure," Adama frowned. "Seems Pacifica was hit by something new from that bogey. Anything on Atlantia?"

"Uh, not yet, sir. Wait - got a trace on DRADIS coming from the far side of One. Got her!"

"Colonial ID confirmed, sir!" Michelle cried happily. "BSG 64! That's Atlantia, sir!"

"Setting course," he affirmed, seeing Atlantia on his own screen. "Good job, Ensign. By the way: Lieutenant William Adama, callsign 'Husker', Battlestar Galactica."

Battlestar Atlantia BSG 64, CIC

Same time

"Commander?" a junior officer piped up. "I have two bogies on DRADIS, closing fast on 089 carom 347."

"IDs?" Carmen Citona, colloquially known (to her disgust) as "3C", requested.

The officer frowned. "Strange. They read as Raptors, sir - Two-Six and Two-Nine. They're listed as Pacifica craft, Commander. Hold on - Two-Nine is hailing us."

"On speakers."

"Battlestar Atlantia, Raptor Two-Nine. Do you read? Urgent you respond!"

Citona replied, "Two-Nine, Atlantia Actual. What the frak are you doing here?"

"Sir, are you picking up another bogey apart from us and Two-Six?"

Now Citona frowned. "Nothing showing on DRADIS."

"Good," Two-Nine said, relieved. "Commander, if you detect any transmission coming from an unidentified bogey, DO NOT PICK IT UP! Instead, you should destroy the bogey ASAP! That's what happened to Pacifica - she picked up a transmission and everything aboard went crazy. Pilots were electrocuted, CIC sealed off, she fired on us when we left the hangar and worst of all, one of her FTL drives spun up...but the other one didn't."

Citona could easily picture the result. Unless both FTL drives spun up simultaneously, uncontrollable stress would rapidly start to build up in her drive chamber. Early tests of the Tylium Drive had established that this plus its dependence on tylium was its fatal flaw. "Gods," she breathed. "How many got out?"

Please say Belinda did. Please.

Raptor Two-Nine

"Ten total, sir - three visiting civvies, three ensigns, three techs and myself. I'm Lieutenant William Adama, sir, callsign 'Husker'."

BSG 64, CIC

The junior officer nodded. "He's listed as a Viper and Raptor pilot on Galactica, sir."

"Then what the frak is he doing on a Pacifica Raptor?" she wondered. No...

"I received a transfer order with a code starting with DX-723," he answered when she asked.

"Oh, that thing," she sighed. "Yeah, Saul Tigh passed through on DX-723. Well frakked-off when I told him it was a mistake," she chuckled.

Raptor Two-Nine

But Adama shook his head grimly. "Commander, I don't think it was a mistake. Not on our part. I believe the Cylons may have compromised Fleet systems somehow. Sir, is Atlantia networked?"

BSG 64, CIC

"She's about to be," Citona nodded. "In fact I have techs working on that very thing right now."

Raptor Two-Nine

Adama's heart leapt into his mouth.