BSG 64, Wardroom

That night

To rapt attention, Commander Citona described Masters' plan. "Our Master Plan, you might say," she smiled grimly.

The CAG nodded. "Should work."

"Except for the part where I'm flying support, sir," Simone ground out. "I appreciate you trying to spare me in my grief. But sir...I do not wish to be spared. I do not need to be spared. Belinda would never stand for it, and neither will I!"

"Simone -" a doubtful Citona began.

"Commander," Simone intoned coldly, "this is not revenge. Yes, my sister - and 2,793 other people - on Pacifica are dead. Yes, the Cylons are responsible. Yes, I loved her dearly and I miss her with all my heart. And yes, I want those frakking toasters to burn in whatever hell they have," she went on, fierce now. "But," now she fought for and regained control, "going out hell-bent on revenge will get me and a whole lot of other people killed. Belinda wouldn't want that, and I know better. No, sir. This isn't revenge. This is payback." She gazed earnestly at Citona. "Request permission to lead the flight."

"You're not the CAG, Hussy," Citona pointed out, utilising her callsign (an ironic tribute to her being a Virgon - Simone wasn't a virgin, but neither was she a slut).

Simone shook her head. "I don't care."

But then Deadshot, who was the CAG, stood. "Commander, I say let her do it." He glanced at Simone. "Never seen a pilot more motivated."

Simone raised an eyebrow. "You'll let me?"

"The mood you're in right now, Simone, I'd put you in command if I could," he readily confessed.

She smiled, touched. "Thank you, Dave." She turned to her CO. "Sir?"

Citona nodded slowly. "So be it. Take 'em, Bellringer. For this mission only, you're the CAG."

"Thank you, Commander. Also...request Husker as my wingman."

Now Citona frowned. "He's only assigned to Atlantia temporarily. Anyway, he'll be more use on a Raptor, flying recon and giving early warning."

"Maybe, sir," Simone conceded, "but he's better in a Viper. And he's more used to the II, so that saves us a III or a IV."

"I know the II inside out, Commander," Adama agreed. "She's older, but she's a classic." He smiled. "Like Galactica."

Dave grinned. "So say we all!"

The crew echoed him. "So say we all!"

"So say we all," Citona agreed quietly. "Alright. Deadshot, Raptor recon. Hussy, CAG. Husker, wingman. Get out there and do it. Good hunting."

"May the Gods be with us," Simone intoned.

BSG 64, Flight Deck

"Uh, this'll be my first combat, sir," the Libran Pete Brewer (Royale) admitted, nervous but eager. "Any advice?"

But it was Adama who spoke. "Rule One: Stick with your wingman. Rule Two: Stick with your wingman. I'm saying it twice to emphasise it, Royale. Two pilots together are five times as effective as they are apart, and ten times safer. Stick with him, even if he's going straight down to hell. Who is your wingman?"

"That's me, Husker," Lieutenant (j.g.) Anna Lennox of Canceron (Hawkeye) piped up. "I've been in six dogfights, injured twice, and he's dead right, Pete," she turned to him. "I'll do the same for you. Just follow my lead and you'll be okay. Scared?" she asked conversationally.

"Uh, yeah, a little," he confessed.

But Hawkeye and Husker both smiled. "Good," they said together. "You should be scared," Hawkeye went on, "frakkin' Raiders are scary. No-one with a lick o' sense wouldn't be scared. But you're not letting that stop you. That's bravery: not being unafraid, but being scared enough to pee your pants and doing your job anyway." She ruffled his short black hair. "You'll be okay, kid."

He was. She wasn't. But nine Raiders would never see a Base Ship again thanks to her. Royale got three plus an assist, and was personally congratulated by Citona (plus he took a bit of ribbing from his squadmates because he did pee his pants a bit, and briefly acquired 'Wet Nurse' as his callsign).

Husker, twelve - a double Ace and then some.

Hussy...twenty-seven, one of the Fleet's few Quintuple Aces, an Ace of Aces.

And for every single Raider or Heavy she took down, she thought savagely, For you, Belinda.

BSG 64, CIC

At the start of the battle

"Contact!" Ferris reported sharply. "Unidentified bogey on DRADIS, 257 carom 196, extreme range. Characteristics match those of the bogey the CAG fried earlier, sir!"

"Signal to Columbia," Citona ordered, "'enemy bogey on DRADIS. Preparing to receive transmission.'"

"Flag acknowledges, sir," Ferris nodded.

"All ships, Atlantia Actual. Stand by to engage. XO, is our network layer in place?"

He nodded. "Might be a little spillover, sir, but we're ready for it." He looked grim. "FTL is isolated."

"Very well. Ferris, open 'er up."

The young tech nodded tensely and complied. Instantly they heard the screech Adama had told them about.

"Invasive software aboard!" Ferris cried. Her fingers flew over her keyboard. "We're losing the lights!" And indeed CIC went dark.

"Emergency lighting until the layer's wiped," Citona instructed. CIC went red.

Aboard the Lead Cylon Base Ship

"OUR SOFTWARE HAS TAKEN CONTROL OF THE LEAD BATTLESTAR," a Senior Centurion reported to the Leader.

"STAND BY TO ATTACK," the Leader responded.

But then the unexpected occurred.

BSG 64, CIC

"Now!" Citona snapped.

The XO executed the programmed command. The aggressive purge routine seized upon and erased the entire affected software layer. Beneath the firewall, Atlantia's native software was entirely unaffected. "All systems online!"

"Launch Vipers! ALL SHIPS OPEN FIRE!"

The Heavy Raiders approaching Atlantia, expecting to make an unopposed landing, were instead handily shredded by her guns opening fire on them. Deadshot's Raptor, launching a tactical nuke into their midst, was the coup de grâce.

The dozens of Viper IIs, IIIs and IVs firing on them and the hundreds of Raiders weren't exactly welcome, either.

Columbia executed a mini-jump to bring her closer to a Base Ship in a surprise tactic, launched multiple nukes and jumped back to her previous position, resuming covering fire for her birds. The Base Ship was hit and crippled, and tried to jump out. But an unbalanced FTL drive was as dangerous for a Base Ship as it was for a Battlestar, and the vessel exploded in mid-jump. She emerged from jump as a mere shower of débris.

Another Base Ship was engaged and destroyed by the Viper Vs from Pegasus; Forrester had decided without orders to pitch in and help. Most of the V's issues had now been resolved, and the V was specifically built to carry nukes. She was in fact designed with Base Ships in mind, and Harry's squadron did exactly what they were supposed to do.

("We might've managed without you," Masters later told him, "but that was what I call initiative. Damn good job, Harry."

He grinned. "Thank you, sir.")

Free space

In the middle of the dogfight

"Holy frak, can't remember the last time I saw so many toasters!" Hawkeye called, wrenching her III around.

"Think of it as a TRE and you'll be fine," Highball returned.

"What the frak's that when it's at home?!"

"Target-Rich Environment," Husker filled in, winging a Heavy Raider. Hussy fired a single shot down her drive tube, destroying her.

"That's how it's done," Hussy sent coldly.

"Nice shot," Husker responded, then banked sharply. "Hussy, on your six!"

"You wish, motherfrakker!" Hussy cursed, hit her maximum braking flaps and reverse thrusters to go backwards, and snap-rolled to avoid a collision. Taken by surprise, the Raider found itself in her sights.

For 0.2 seconds, that is, until she blew it away.

"Royale, break left!" Hawkeye cried, and fired to cover him. Too close, the Raider chasing him erupted into flame. But some débris hit her Viper, and her instrumentation went crazy as a fragment lanced through her cockpit...and her. "Bingo, Bingo, Bingo!" she yelled as her Viper gyrated wildly, but she felt the blood bubbling up in her lungs and knew with bleak clarity that she was done.

"Hawkeye!" Royale screamed.

"You can't help me, kid," Anna pronounced calmly.

"No! You don't leave your wingman!"

"You do when she's done," she sighed, and coughed, blood on her lips. "You did great, kid. Team up with Siren. Me, I got an appointment with the Gods. Remember me to Canceron." Somehow she managed to regain some control. "First, though..."

He sobbed as she engaged the closest she could to full throttle - her high engine was out, port erratic - and hit a Heavy Raider. He almost couldn't see through his tears as her Viper exploded and the Heavy was crippled. In fury he exhausted his ammo as he fired multiple bursts at the Heavy, tearing her apart.

But his running out of ammo turned out not to matter.

Aboard the Lead Cylon Base Ship

"TOO MANY LOSSES," the Leader decided. "THEIR SURPRISE TACTIC WORKED PERFECTLY. IT APPEARS WE UNDERESTIMATED THEM."

"OR OVERESTIMATED OURSELVES," the Senior Centurion suggested.

"THAT IS LOGICALLY POSSIBLE," the Leader allowed. "THE LOGIC IS OBVIOUS. RECALL ALL RAIDERS. WE HAVE FAILED."

"BY YOUR COMMAND."

Raptor Three-Two, Deadshot piloting

"Actual, Three-Two! They're breaking off! I say again, the toasters are disengaging!"

BSG 64, CIC

Ferris looked up. "It's true, Commander! All Raiders and Heavies pulling back! The last Base Ship reads as spinning up her FTL! WE FRAKKING DID IT, SIR!" she whooped. Then she hurriedly caught herself. "I - I'm sorry, sir, I -"

"- let yourself go in an entirely understandable manner, Ensign," Citona soothed her. "Been there, done that."

"Atlantia, Husker," Adama addressed CIC. "Request clearance to pursue and destroy."

"They are still in range, sir," Sara contributed.

Citona considered it for only half a second. "Negative, Husker. Frak me, that was a rough one. No. At least one of you is reading 'out of ammo'. We didn't lose many, but there were casualties among the birds of Galactica and Columbia. Let's not have any more. All birds return to base. Hussy, that a problem for you?"

"Negative, Actual," Simone answered serenely. The dogfight had been exactly the catharsis she'd needed. She was done grieving.

Belinda would've approved, she knew.

Gods bless and keep you, sis.

BSG 64, Wardroom

After the battle

"Great plan, huh?" Deadshot approved as they broke out the ambrosia.

"Took down those frakkin' toasters!" Highball cheered, and hammered on a bulkhead. "Way to go, Atlantia!"

Then Hussy saw the Commander, and stood. "Attention on deck!"

All stood and saluted the Commander; Citona returned it. "At ease, kids, you've earned it today." She sobered. "One casualty on Atlantia, I gather."

"Yes, sir," Simone confirmed sadly, "Hawkeye didn't make it home." She looked fierce. "But neither did the nine toasters and the Heavy Raider she got!"

"Gods keep her," Citona prayed. Then she brightened. "Much lower losses than usual. And I hear Wet Nurse got three, plus the assist on the Heavy. On his first hop, too. Says a lot for his instructors," she praised Hussy and Deadshot.

A couple of pilots ruffled Royale's hair affectionately, and he sheepishly confessed, "Had a little accident, sir." He mock-glared at his buddies. "Hence my callsign, you dozy frakkers!" A couple of them laughed, but with him and not at him.

But Citona kindly dismissed it. "I've seen worse, Brewer. Hell," she confided, "I've done worse. My first mission? I took out one Raider, plus an assist, my pants were a latrine, and I tossed my cookies all over the deck. Should've heard the Chief chewing me out. 'Godsdamn nuggets spewing on my nice clean deck!' was the least I got!" They all laughed. "Don't sweat it, kid. You did just fine," she told him gently; he beamed.

Carmen Citona was a maestro when it came to dealing with people. She had a firm policy of chewing folk out in private and praising them in public. Having been a pilot and CAG herself, Citona knew full well what they went through from their very first hop, hence her gentle treatment of Royale. A Commander determines the morale of her crew. Not for nothing was Atlantia's the highest in the Fleet. Officers had been known to fight for a posting to Atlantia...often literally.

She turned to Husker. "Our uninvited guest did us proud, too. Twelve Raiders," she approved.

"And he did things with his bird that I didn't think the II could do, sir," Deadshot enthused. "That end-to-end skew flip? Never saw the like. Guess that Raider hadn't, either!" All laughed.

"You briefly pull some serious G's," Adama informed them, "but as a surprise tactic it works. Once." He sobered. "Saw a pilot once who forgot that. Damn toaster skewered him."

"Nice job, Husker," Citona nodded. "My cousin works in Planning. Might just suggest that that little trick gets worked into the manual."

(She did. It was. Starbuck would later tell a group of nuggets, "This is the Viper Mark II. It's as manoeuvrable as a jackrabbit and can flip end for end in point...three...five...seconds. You have never flown anything remotely like it, so don't think that you have.")

"But the hero of the day, without a doubt," Citona told them proudly, "is definitely Hussy. The heroine of the day, I should say. Twenty-seven, including no less than six Heavies, and four assists. That is some serious flying and shooting. Your sister would be proud, Simone," she finished quietly.

"Every one was for her, sir," Hussy replied as softly.

The pilots unanimously voted that her callsign be changed to Ace Five - and with Deadshot's gracious permission plus Citona's hearty approval, she remained as Atlantia's CAG. "I know when I'm beat," he told Citona, "and I have never seen shooting like that." He passed the CAG's mug to Ace Five, saluting her with another. "Way to go, Ace Five!"

"So say we all!" the cry went up from every Viper jockey - including Husker.

Drinking from the CAG's mug, Simone thanked them. She raised it. "To the honoured dead of the Battlestar Pacifica. May the Gods cherish their souls. Death To Toasters!"

"SO SAY WE ALL!" they cheered as one.

The Cylon Base Ship

Same time

"WE HAVE ONE MORE BASE SHIP IN JUMP RANGE. WE CAN DESTROY THEM."

"NO. WE SHALL MOUNT WHAT THEY TACTFULLY CALL A STRATEGIC WITHDRAWAL AND WHAT THEY SCORNFULLY CALL A RETREAT. LET THEM HAVE THEIR TEMPORARY VICTORY. WE STILL HAVE THE VIRUS IN PLACE."

"BY YOUR COMMAND."

But then they received disastrous news: the virus had been discovered, and their agent eliminated. Apparently Admiral Citona hadn't even bothered with a court martial, having acquired incontrovertible proof - she simply shot him there and then.

From now on, the Leader vowed with almost human savagery, Citona would be a primary target!