Raptor Two-Nine

A few minutes later

Their Raptor carried them into Virgon's upper atmosphere, as Three-Two did for Citona. By her own request, Simone was her pilot.

"Tell me about her," Adama requested.

Simone sighed. "Being a Virgon, you probably expect she was strait-laced, always prim and proper. Not the younger sister I knew," she managed a chuckle. "She found her clit before I did. She was wayward, unconventional, a rule-breaker to the core. Oh, she was very bright, don't get me wrong, an early IQ test showed hers was nearly off the charts."

"Classic class clown pattern," he nodded, "they get bored in class when the lessons are too easy for them, so they devise entertainments. I had one in my Tactics class."

"Yeah, she wasn't getting the grades we felt she should," Simone agreed. "Instead she was partying way too much for a girl her age - hells, it was too much for me, and I was eight yahrens older! No discipline, no focus...in Virgon society you're supposed to decide what you're going to be at the Age of Clarity, fifteen yahrens. But at first she hadn't the first frakkin' clue what she was going to be, or do." She shrugged. "Didn't frakking care, to be brutally honest.

"But one day I was on shore leave - I'd signed up with the Colonial Fleet five yahrens previously, after signing up with the Peace Officers at fifteen - and she dragged me down to the mall. But on the way we passed a Colonial recruiting station, where they had a modified Viper I on display."

"Modified how?"

"For a two-man cockpit," she explained. "For thirty cubits the recruiter, who was also a veteran pilot, would take you up in the Viper to give you a taste of Colonial Fleet life for thirty minutes. But I'd already been recruited, so I wasn't interested, I just walked past." She paused. "Ten metrons down the path, I realised I was alone. I looked back...and Belinda was looking at the Viper. I say looking, she was more...devouring it with her eyes.

"I said, 'Hey, you dragged me on this trip, you minx. Let's go!' But she didn't reply. She was just looking at the Viper. She'd never seen one before - I tried to get her a pass to come onto my base during my training, show her around, but my CO wouldn't have it." Her voice softened. "I could tell she was in love. Finally she turned to the recruiter and asked him, 'Who do I have to frak to fly this beauty?'

"She left me totally nonplussed. I was stunned. I asked her, 'Where'd this come from?' She said to me, 'Simone, you fly these?' I answered, 'Not this model, she's a Viper I - I've flown everything from a II up to a IV.' She asked the recruiter again, and he said, 'For thirty cubits I'll take you up for that many minutes, show you some basic manoeuvres.' Then she asked me, 'You got any cubits?' I had, about a hundred. She whipped thirty out, asked, 'Could you lend me another thirty?' and asked the recruiter, 'An hour? Please?'

"I can count on one hand the number of times she'd said 'please' in her life. But for the first time in, oh, ever, she was being polite. He could tell she was interested, so he started talking about the Viper. But she was asking intelligent questions - her fire rate, max speed, range, comms facilities. Not the usual felgercarb like 'Isn't that cockpit cramped?' or 'Isn't she a bit slow by modern standards?' Oh, she was, even a II can run rings around a I. But Belinda was genuinely interested. It was the first time I'd seen her interested in anything other than 3B - boys, booze and blow," she elaborated.

He smiled. "Heard that before."

"And," she continued, awed, "she was speaking to him respectfully, another first. She never did that, even with Mom or Dad. She was listening to him. It was as if that Viper had, I dunno, awoken something in her. They went up, spent an hour up there - and she even flew the thing, he trusted her enough to pass control to her. When they touched down and got out, I expected her to kiss him, as she usually would have if someone did her a favour. But she saluted him, and as the Gods are my witness, I swear, William, it was straight out of our textbook.

"We never went on the shopping trip. Instead we went home. She'd never been so quiet. When we got home she got on her laptop and sent a request to her faculty adviser, asking him to completely change her curriculum. 'Everything I need to study to qualify as a Colonial pilot', she told him. 'What kind of a joke is this?' he sent. 'Simone, are you joining in your sister's shenanigans for once?'

"She sent 'It's me, sir. I am not joking. By Athena and all the Gods, I swear I'm serious. Please assign me whatever courses I'll need.' She had never sworn on the Gods before.

"That evening was her Ceremony of Clarity. After dinner she stood and said, 'Dad, Mom, I'm sorry I've frakked about these last few yahrens. That stops now. I want to be a Colonial pilot.'" She chuckled. "Mom fainted. I swear some of Dad's hairs fell out, he was going bald anyway. But she was deadly serious. You won't believe the difference to her school work - instead of C and D grades, she was getting A and A+. However hard it was, she was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. No more class clown. By the time she graduated, it was as Valedictorian. I can't tell you how proud I was of her."

"She turned her life around," he noted approvingly.

"And all it took was an obsolete Viper I," she agreed. "A Colonial recruiter called at the school. Hers was the first name he called out. Next thing you know, she's earned a commission and she's assigned to the Pacifica. How many shavetail rookies do you know who get a Battlestar as their first posting, huh?"

"Not many," he agreed, "competition is fierce. Actually, most recruits don't even see a Battlestar until at least their third posting, never mind serving on one. I was lucky - a terrorist bullet nicked my throat on Caprica, that's why I'm husky-voiced. But I blew away the terrorist who did it. Got an award for bravery, which singled me out. The Galactica was my very first posting."

Simone smiled knowingly. "You love that old rustbucket, don't you?"

"Does it show?" he grinned.

She grinned back, and continued:

"In the Flight Academy on Caprica, oh, she went from strength to strength. Still boy-crazy, though I heard she frakked a couple of girls, too, but whenever she was studying...Gods, it was like she turned into a toaster. Laser-like focus. Never once asked a stupid question. I'd expected her to get through at least partly on her looks, and I won't say they had no effect. But one time she was offered a bye if she'd frak the guy offering it. Next thing I know, she's being court-martialled for breaking his arm.

"But her defence counsel kept it secret until then that she was only defending herself. The Academy commandant was a woman, and she was right on board with self-defence. Far from getting sympathy, the guy was dishonourably discharged, and she told him, 'If she kills you, I'll look the other way, you frakwit!' The whole thing was excised from her record. From then on, no-one ever even suspected her of using sex to get by."

"And, I bet, no-one dared to offer," he read between the lines.

"Every merit she accrued, she damn well earned," Simone agreed proudly.

Colonial Fleet Flight Academy, Caprica

On the last day of Cadet Bellringer's court martial

"So," Harriet Duquesne, the Academy Commandant and JAG, pronounced, "the evidence seems clear that Cadet Bellringer did break Instructor Michaels' arm. Indeed, the cadet has freely confessed to this. Are there mitigating circumstances?"

Andrea Hollis, Counsel for the Defence, nodded. "Yes, Your Honour, there are. What my colleague has failed to disclose," she carefully didn't say 'my male colleague', "is that Cadet Bellringer's actions were precipitated by necessity, as she saw it. To wit: the instructor was offering her a bye on a test even she would find difficult and challenging."

Reading between the lines (which wasn't difficult - Duquesne had some 40 yahrens' experience dealing with men), the JAG inquired, "In return for...what? As if I couldn't guess."

Counsel Hollis confirmed her suspicion. "The use of her body, no less," she answered simply.

At that Duquesne looked both resigned and angry. "It's been millennia since we founded the Colonies. You'd think by now we could find a better motive for corruption than sex. Lords of Kobol, forgive us. But she refused." It was not a question. Then she shook her head. "Sorry. Obvious that she did - one can hardly construe breaking a man's arm as being consent to sex," she said dryly.

"She did, Your Honour. With respect, the outcome of her refusal is the exact reason why we are here."

"Touché," Duquesne almost smiled ruefully. "Has she taken the test?"

"Not just yet, Your Honour," Andrea shook her head. "She was arrested before she could. On my advice she exercised her right to remain silent."

"Until now," Duquesne noted dryly. Then she looked fierce. "Because of sexist opposition, I almost didn't become a Colonial officer. I will not see a woman brought down by such opposition. Bellringer, front and centre! As of now," she ordered as Belinda hurriedly stood and made her way to the Bench, "you are taking that test. However, I am not doing you any favours - you pass it on your own merits, or you do not. Clear?"

Belinda stood ramrod-straight and ripped off a textbook salute. "Sir! Your Honour!"

Duquesne found a smile. "Pick one. But I appreciate the respect." She looked sour. "As for our erstwhile instructor...once he's on his feet, have him report to my - no, why bother, we already know he's guilty of gross misconduct - he is to be dishonourably discharged. All benefits disallowed. And Cadet Bellringer is free to press criminal charges if she so desires. Cadet?"

The young woman briefly considered it, but shook her head. "On my home world of Virgon, Your Honour, we think little of vindictive people. I'm gonna be bigger than he deserves. He's out, let's leave it at that." Now she looked fierce. "Unless he decides to push the issue...and then, Your Honour, again by Virgon custom, all bets are off. Plus I know my sister will back me up - she's in the Fleet, too. Knows more than her instructors about unarmed combat."

"Your decision, Cadet," Duquesne nodded. "I now address the Court: This case is to be excised from Cadet Bellringer's record, which will remain entirely unblemished. I refuse to allow her future career to be held back by a frakwit who couldn't keep it in his pants. If she fraks up, that's on her - though I'm sure she understands that. But not something like this. The verdict is: Cleared of all charges and specifications." She banged her gavel. "Case dismissed!"

The Academy Mess Hall

An hour later

"I even got some compensation," Belinda grinned over a coffee. "There are laws - Colonial laws, not just Caprican - about asking for sexual favours. If we'd been on Picon or Scorpia or even Tauron, it would've been the same. Michaels really got the book thrown at him."

"You were lucky the JAG's a woman," Simone observed. She'd barely gotten there in time, having heard of her sister's impending court martial and having begged Commander Citona for time off.

BSG 64, Commander Citona's quarters

"Please, sir," Simone pleaded, "she's my sister."

"You haven't even been aboard that long," Citona observed, "but...family. Nothing more important to a Virgon. I should know, I am one. And," she looked compassionate, "believe it or not I have two younger brothers, neither of whom I've seen in a daggit's age. I'm fighting for them. So I totally get where you're coming from." She sighed. "Truth to tell, I wouldn't want an officer under my command who wouldn't drop everything for family." She wrote rapidly on a slip, handing it to Simone. "Go. Commandeer a Raptor on my authority. Caprica's only a few light-yahrens away."

"Thank you, sir," Simone gushed.

Citona barely smiled. "Don't push it, Bellringer."

Simone saluted and hurriedly left.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Belinda denied. She hugged her older sister. "Gods, I've missed you."

'Time was," Simone said carefully, "you didn't give a frak about anyone else."

"I was younger then. Stupid. If the two aren't the same," Belinda admitted.

"Got a point," Simone allowed, and both laughed. Her voice softened. "I've missed you, too, sis. This felgercarb aside, how're you doing?"

"Pretty well," Belinda yawned.

Her best friend, Kate Ripley, laughed. "She's too modest! Sir, she got 98% on Spatial Recognition, she was the only cadet who didn't toss her cookies on the Vomit Comet, and she's the only cadet ever to pass Tactics with a perfect score!"

"Meh," Belinda shrugged, "I'm doin' okay."

"Okay?! Bell, in a few yahrens I'd expect you to be commanding a Battlestar! You've got what it takes, girl!" Kate praised, still laughing. Then she caught herself and gasped, "Frak, I got a Tactics seminar! Gotta run! Great news, Bell!" She hurried off.

Belinda chuckled fondly. "She's got plenty of time, Gods bless her. She's a worrier, but she always gets there early. You gotta love her. But I think she's got what it takes, too. I think you want a worrier in command - she'll worry about her crew, the way she should, won't be such a glory hound. Me," she stretched and yawned, "I get by with a towering intellect, overflowing charm -"

"- and a total lack of modesty," Simone finished. Both laughed and hugged. But then Simone sobered. "Belinda, this is me you're talking to. Your sister. Are you really okay?"

Now Belinda looked serious, and yahrens older. "I'll admit I was upset by this motherfrakker, Simone. But it's a minor hiccup, really. I'm okay. Eyes on the prize...and the prize is my pilot's wings." She looked determined. "I will fly a Viper. I promised myself. After that, I dunno. Command? Well, maybe. I've got the smarts for it, my instructors say. I hope I've got the attitude."

"You have," Simone nodded. "You're disciplined, focused, determined…" Then her sober mask slipped. "All the things you weren't at your Age of Clarity."

But Belinda was near tears. "Sis, I wasted yahrens frakking about. All the things I should've done, could've done...I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a disappointment to you."

Touched, Simone hugged her again. "Honey, you weren't. Even then, I knew you had to find your own path. All the 'frakking about' you talked about? You had to do all that, to learn better, to figure out how to apply yourself. And you did! By Athena I swear, Belinda, I am proud of you, and I always will be. You turned your life around. Not some frakking priest on Virgon. Not some 'advisor' who only expected you to spread your legs. You. Most of all I'm proud of the way you turned it around. Maybe you did make mistakes. But you frakking well learned from them. I love you."

"I love you, too," Belinda sobbed, and the two hugged even tighter.

"Gods, look at the time," Simone said, concerned. "Even in a Raptor, I'll never make it."

Belinda asked, "Did your CO give you a specific time to be back?"

"Well, no," Simone admitted.

"By all accounts, Citona's pretty easygoing, so you'll be okay," Belinda decided.

"Until you cross her, then watch the frak out!" Simone returned.

They hugged one last time, then Simone raced for her Raptor.

BSG 64, Commander Citona's quarters

After Simone returns

"You're a little late," Citona observed. It wasn't critical, there was cover, but still.

"I know, sir, I'm sorry," Simone apologised. The protracted farewell with Belinda had cost her some time. "Family, y'know?"

Citona rolled her eyes, but both knew she was kidding. "Family. Inspired by your example, I called my brothers; they're both okay. The younger one's getting a daggit."

"Aw, that's nice, sir," Simone approved. "I like daggits."

Now Citona looked serious. "It's things like the right to own a daggit and offer moral support to a sister that we're fighting for, Major. We should never forget that."

Simone saluted. "No, sir. Never."

"Return to the Flight Deck," the Commander ordered.

"Aye, sir."