Chapter 22 - First Blood

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Unknown System, Colonial One - July, 2249

Gina Invierre leaned back in the pilot's seat of Colonial One, and sighed contentedly. She looked out the window at the beautiful scenery beyond. Behind her, the pounding on the locked cockpit door was becoming quite violent. Someone out there had found something to use as a battering ram. She propped her feet on the dead body of the copilot, the only one who had been in the cockpit when she had entered, and waited.

The door frame began to splinter, and the whole thing finally gave way with a crash. Armed officers rushed in training their weapons on her. The President was barely a step behind. Gina smiled at her. "Madame President. Welcome."

"I might have known. Can you give me any reason I shouldn't have you tossed out the nearest airlock?"

"Oh, go ahead, if you feel you must. But I'd guess that they might have something to say about the matter." Gina gestured behind her, out the cockpit screen.

Roslin glanced over to where Gina had indicated, and her face went pale. One of the officers was softly cursing, "Frak. Frak. Frak. Frak." Over and over again, unconsciously. Gina looked back over her shoulder at three dozen visible Basestars, the nearest less than five kilometers away. As she looked, she just caught sight of the Heavy Raider, surrounded by a dozen Raiders, swooping in directly above Colonial One. The Centurions were efficient, no doubt they'd be aboard in less than a minute.

The Captain rushed in. "Maybe we can jump."

"Sorry, Captain," Gina offered. "I fully powered down the engines. It'll take at least half an hour to get them powered back up. I don't think you have that long." Heavy clanks were heard on the hull, and the sound of armored feet marching along the outside of the hull, uncaring of the vacuum.

Roslin put her arms out and pushed down the guns the officers still had pointed at Gina. She took a deep breath. "We surrender."

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Unknown System, Refugee Fleet, Battlestar Galactica - July, 2249

"Action Stations, Action Stations. Set Condition One throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Repeat, Action Stations, Action Stations. Set Condition One throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Launch the alert squadron."

It took Adama less than a minute to reach the CIC. Everything was running smoothly, with most everyone already at their assigned stations. This far into their journey, they had all had plenty of practice. "I need a Sit-Rep," he commanded.

Lieutenant Gaeta turned to face him, reviewing various data printouts. "Admiral, a fleet just jumped in at the edge of DRADIS range. Closing in on us now. We got lucky. The CAP was out that way, at the edge of their patrol range, and were able to identify those vessels. Cylon basestars."

Adama nodded and looked up. The Cylons being at long range would explain the uncertainty of the DRADIS display. Right now it just showed one large contact, designated 'Unknown.' "How many?"

"CAP reports six basestars, Admiral."

Bill grunted as if gut-punched. Six. Even Gaeta, always the professional, clearly looked worried. "We've never seen six together for their hunting and search forces. Not since the Fall. This is no accident. They knew we were here."

"Yes, Sir." Gaeta glanced up from another report that Dualla had just handed him. "All ships reporting in. We are ready to jump upon your order."

Adama hesitated. That would certainly be the smart move. "No. Get all birds in the air, and have them link up with Pegasus squadrons between the fleet and the Cylons." Gaeta nodded and carried out the orders, but then turned questioning eyes on his Admiral. Bill didn't owe the man an explanation, but gave it anyway, loud enough for the whole room to here. Might as well let them know the Old Man hadn't gone off his rocker. "The drive system the Earthers uses can't evac a system as fast as we can. If we jump now, we'll be leaving them to the Cylons. And even if they do escape, the odds of us finding each other again are pretty slim. We're sure as hells not going to allow the Cylons to wipe out a few million more humans." Adama paused for a moment to let that sink in. "We buy time for the Earth fleet to pull out, then we follow them through into this 'hyperspace' of theirs. We keep the fleets together." Bill thought Lieutenant Gaeta looked worried. He wasn't the only one. Hells, he was worried, and it was his plan.

"Admiral," Gaeta began cautiously, "we're still not sure what kind of stresses 'hyperspace' will put on our ships. Or if they're even compatible at all."

Adama sighed and removed his glasses. "Guess we're gonna find out. No time like the present."

"Admiral," Dualla called out, "the Earth Alliance is attempting to hail the Cylons."

Bill glanced up sharply, but before he could say anything, Gaeta had a further report. "EA fleet does not appear to be evacuating. The Nova and Lexington are moving forward to place themselves between the fleet and the Cylons."

"What the frak is Sheridan up to?" Bill muttered under his breath. "That boy is gonna get us all killed." I wish Saul was here. He needed the man's confidence, his insights. "Have the Cylons sent any broadcasts to the Earth fleet?" he asked Dualla.

"Not that we've detected, Sir."

"Put me through to Commodore Sheridan." he snatched up the handset without looking, his eyes glued to the DRADIS display, and pressed it to his face. The line was dead for just a moment, and then a static filled hiss indicated the line was live. "Commodore Sheridan, this is Galactica Actual. Over."

"Actually over what, Admiral?" Sheridan sounded more distracted than confused.

Bill bit off a sharp retort. The man wasn't in his chain of command, and couldn't be blamed for having different comm protocols. "This is Admiral Adama. Commodore, it is urgent that you cease all communication attempts with the Cylons, shut down your computer networks, and as many of your data, communication, and information processing systems as possible. I also strongly urge you to withdraw your vessels. Let our Vipers and Battlestars handle the threat while we evac the civilians. My fleet is committed to following yours through your Jump Points and into hyperspace. The Galactica and Pegasus can act as rearguard."

"I appreciate that Admiral. But I can't comply. I know you're going to have a hard time with this. If our positions were reversed, I'd have a hard time with it. But we have to try to make peaceful contact with the Cylons. Meeting your Sharon Agathon and reviewing the science you shared with us made one thing very clear. These people are more human than you give them credit for. We didn't create them. We didn't enslave them. Perhaps they will respond to that. Perhaps we can broker a peace."

"Dammit, the Cylons aren't interested in peace."

"That remains to be seen, Admiral."

Bill lowered the handset and cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. Turning to Dualla, he snapped, "Order Starbuck to push forward with all squadrons to screen both fleets, including the Nova and Lexington. This is gonna go south fast." Pivoting to Gaeta, he continued, "Move the Galactica and Pegasus into screening positions directly in front of the fleet. We need to provide the largest flak cover possible, which means we need to be close. Hopefully Sheridan will see reason and pull those ships back. If not, they're on their own." He paused for a moment, then added, "And make sure all Colonial ships have the emergency jump coordinates programmed in. The Cylons will be in firing range in a minute or two. Worst case, we're not going down with the Earthers." He waited only long enough to get nods of acknowledgement, then raised the handset back to his mouth. "Commodore Sheridan, are you still there?"

"We're a little busy over here, Admiral. Perhaps we could resume our conversation after this First Contact is completed?"

Bill turned bewildered eyes towards Dualla. "Confirmed," she acknowledged. "The Earthers just transmitted their first contact package. Still trying to make contact with the Cylons."

In frustration, he barked into the handset, "At least pull the Lexington and Nova back behind our screening forces. They'll at least stand a chance when the Cylons attack. In case you missed it, they're advancing in a combat formation." He glanced up at the DRADIS to confirm the Basestars' current position and heading.

Sheridan seemed unphased. "The job of those ships is to guard the fleet, and to show the strength of our forces. Both of those duties require them to be where they are. Rest assured, Admiral. My officers are prepared should the Cylons pick a fight."

Adama wanted to shout...to shake the man, to force him to listen. Instead, he tried one final tack. "Your vessels aren't equipped for the kind of fight the Cylons will bring, John," he said, quietly but passionately, into the handset. "Your Starfury pilots are inexperienced at fighting Cylon Raiders. Your warships mount too few point defense cannon. Those massive cannon on the Nova...they're certainly impressive, but you yourself acknowledged they were short ranged. The Cylons will sit back at long range and pound your ships to scrap with massed missile and fighter launches."

Sheridan spoke, sounding confused. "If that was the case, then why didn't they…"

Bill stopped listening. Expression turning grim, he watched as the DRADIS display of the Basestars blossomed with a mass launch. Switching the frequency over to the Viper channel, he Barked, "Starbuck, report!"

"We're not quite into position yet, Sir. Still behind the Nova and Lexington, but moving up fast. I'm looking at a massive missile and Raider launch from every Basestar. There's gotta be hundreds….no, thousands of Raiders. A crazy number of missiles as well. Point defense isn't stopping that." She paused for a breath. "At least the EA vessels have launched their full fighter screen, but... HOLY FRAK BALLS!"

"Starbuck! Starbuck, come in! Talk to me, Kara."

"They're….gone." Her voice came back in an awed murmur.

Bill glanced up at the DRADIS display sharply. The Basestars were no longer displayed, though hordes of missiles and Raiders still littered the screens. "A launch and withdrawal? The Cylons are playing it cautious. Must be because of the Earth ships. They don't know what to expect. Our odds just went up."

"No, Sir. You don't understand. The Basestars didn't jump out. They were blown away."

"What? Kara, you're not making any sense."

"Those giant guns on the Nova. They aren't just cannons. They're some kind of energy weapon. It looked like there were two turrets….four guns, aimed at each one of the Basestars. One salvo….just one salvo and they were all reduced to…. just…. rubble. The Lexington and Starfuries are opening up now. Those guns are some kind of energy discharge as well….different than the Nova's though. My gods...look at that accuracy. There may not be many guns on the Lexington, Sir, but a high fraction of those shots seem to be hitting something. The Starfuries seem to be about the same. Not many of those missiles are going to get through. Maybe none at all, Sir. There's still a hell of a lot of Raiders in play though. The Nova and Lexington are starting to pull back to buy some more space. Pegasus and Galactica squadrons will be entering the fight in ten seconds."

"Roger Starbuck. Good hunting. Galactica, actual, out."

From that point, Bill was relegated to being nothing more than an observer. Reducing the Raiders took far longer than eliminating the Basestars had. But, in the end, they never even made it as far as the Galactica and Pegasus flak shells. The little damage they did to the Nova and Lexington was more or less cosmetic; and given the Earth Alliance fleet's resources and supplies, probably easily repaired. It hadn't been entirely one sided. He'd lost a few more of his precious Viper pilots, and heard that at least a couple of Starfuries had also been destroyed. At the end of the battle, Bill stood grim faced as everyone else in the CIC cheered around him. The mood was exuberant, but it tasted like ashes in his mouth.

"Admiral," Dualla called, "I have Commodore Sheridan for you."

Bill picked up the handset. "Galactica, act...this is Admiral Adama. Congratulations on your victory. It seems you were correct. Your people were certainly prepared for that fight."

"Yes," came Sheridan's response. To Bill's ears, he sounded both proud and weary. That was completely understandable. "But you were correct also. The Cylons weren't interested in peace."

"I understand why you felt you needed to try," Bill conceded. "But now I need you to understand that I may have been right about something else."

"Alright, I'm listening."

"I need you to take the Nova, and preferably the Lexington as well, and move them outside of weapons range of the fleet. Either fleet."

"Alright, Admiral," came the surprised response. "You definitely have my attention."

"John, you opened yourselves up to communication from the Cylons. Your ships run on computers and networks. I don't doubt that you have computer network security specialist who are great at their jobs. I don't doubt that you have rock solid firewalls protecting everything vital. So did we. It didn't matter. The Cylons still went through our firewalls and past our specialists like they weren't even there. During the fall, they just shut down our entire military. The Cylons aren't computer specialists, Commodore. They're computers.

"In order to stop them, we've stripped out every network possible. We use computers your people think are jokes. Recently, in combat against the Cylons, we were forced to briefly establish a small computer network on the Galactica. We put up five concentric firewalls. The Cylons went through all of them in less than a minute. We thought we had disconnected in time...only to have a Cylon virus nearly take control of the Galactica and kill us all.

"Tell me Commodore, now that I've seen the impressive firepower of your Dreadnought...if those guns just started targeting and firing on their own...how long would it take the Nova to wipe out your entire fleet? Or mine?" Around him, the celebration in the CIC went silent as people picked up on the conversation. "How many shots to destroy one of your White Star liners? And what would you do if the Nova just decided to vent its own atmosphere? Commodore, you need to quarantine the networks and computers on those ships, and move them to a safe distance until you've had a chance to completely purge your systems back to defaults."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Sheridan replied, his voice still light, but now deadly serious. "Alright Admiral. That seems like a sensible precaution. I've got several others I can think of that we will implement immediately. The Nova and Lexington will get underway shortly. Is that satisfactory?"

"Completely, Commodore."

"Good." Some levity entered his voice. "Now, we've got a lot to do, but I do have one question I'm hoping you can answer before I sign off."

"I'll endeavor to answer it."

"I'm just curious. If the Cylons' basic strategy is to stand off at a distance and hammer a vessel with long range missile fire...why did they jump in at point blank range?

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Unknown System, Cylon Fleet, Basestar - July, 2249

Things were about to go from bad to worse. Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and the most powerful Colonial human alive, with the possible exception of the invariably frustrating William Adama, felt powerless to stop it. She watched the Cylon activities with no little trepidation. She was not afraid for herself. She had already lived more life than she was supposed to. But the people under her care, all those persons who had been aboard Colonial One, for them she was terrified.

When they had first been herded up and taken aboard this monstrosity of a vessel, the Cylons had been...almost pleasant. Condescending, self superior, and demeaning to be certain...but not overtly hostile. Even the Model One named Cavil, whom she'd recently had put out an airlock, hadn't gone farther than a few insults. They all had been far more interested in hearing the reports of the Model Six named Gina Inviere, about the humans from Earth. And then they had somehow learned that the infant named Hera was a half Cylon….a fact which had shocked her own people, almost none of whom had been aware. In fact, in the excitement of the past few days, the Cylons had almost seemed to forget about their Colonial prisoners.

They had been given their own small section of the Basestar, and allowed to roam freely. The perimeter of their zone was demarcated by posted Centurions. Those did nothing but stand there unless someone tried to bypass them. And if someone wandered to close and those claws and guns came out….it was fine, so long as the individual backed off immediately. So far, there had been no significant incidents.

But something had changed. Over the past few hours, a tension had fallen over the Cylons. She hated to anthropomorphize Cylons, but about half of the models seemed visibly upset about something. The other half appeared to be angry, enraged, or even coldly furious. She had little doubt that these emotions would soon be taken out on her people.

And she was correct. The marching metal footed cadence of a Centurion tread echoed through the halls, grabbing everyone's attention long before the party came into view. Twelve Centurions, lead by a single One. Perhaps Cavil himself.

He was smiling, appearing to be in a brighter mood than at any time since they had come aboard. "Ah friends. We need to have a chat. Discuss the future. Oh, so many things to discuss. Who wants to go first? How about the President?"

Captain Eversun, the always helpful, ever supportive chief pilot of Colonial One, came to her defense. "Now just a moment," he said, stepping in front of her.

He didn't get a chance to say more. In less than a second the nearest Centurion unfolded those terrible, razor sharp claws, and slashed them through the Captain's face and chest. A horrible spray of bright red arterial blood splashed across Roslin and half a dozen others. Some ran into Laura's eyes, burning there, giving her an excuse for the tears that welled up. The poor man was dead before his body hit the floor.

Cavil's smile never so much as flickered. "Hmmm. Guess we won't be asking him any questions. Now, Madame President...shall we?"

Without a word, Laura stepped forward and followed the man out of the room.

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Unknown System, Refugee Fleet, Battlestar Galactica - July, 2249

Bill Adama always enjoyed coming down to pilot country. It made him feel younger. It made him feel like Husker again. But he wasn't here on a sightseeing trip, or even to let the crew know that the Old Man was always around. No, he needed to speak with his CAG...unofficially.

He found her in the Pilot's Mess. She was sharing a meal with the Resistance Leader and Pyramid Ball player she had rescued from Caprica...Anders. The meal seemed rather...intimate. He felt like a heel interrupting, but this was important, and his time was limited. He walked up to the table.

Starbuck noticed him first. "Admiral," she said in surprise, rising. Anders followed suit. Kara had clearly been drinking, though she wasn't too far gone yet.

"As you were. Mr. Anders, my apologies, but I need to borrow my CAG. It'll just be a minute."

"Of course," Anders said, not terribly graciously. But then, he had clearly been drinking as well, and knowing Kara, he was probably a lot further gone than she was.

He led Starbuck out of the room, to walk down a deserted stretch of hall beyond. "What's on your mind, Admiral?" she asked brightly.

"I'm a little troubled by things we've been learning about the Earth Alliance. It seems some of our initial assumptions about them may have been misplaced."

"Such as?" she asked with concern. "Are you thinking they might be hostile? Or even Cylons?"

"Nothing like that. But we all assumed this telepathy some of their people have was a bunch of superstitious nonsense. It hasn't been proven definitively yet, at least to me, but the evidence that it's true is starting to look pretty convincing. That alone could have significant repercussions for our relationship with these people. And then there's their level of technology. All of our initial assumptions were that they were centuries behind us technologically. That only our regression due to the Cylon threat had us anywhere close. And then the Cylon attack happened, and we saw them using energy weapons with the power of nukes."

"That was a hell of a sight," she agreed. Adama had gone over her gun camera footage to witness the event, but clearly seeing it person had even more of an effect. It took a lot to awe Kara Thrace.

"Then there's the range of those big guns. Unless I misunderstood the Commodore, their range isn't rated in tens of kilometers….it's rated in tens of thousands of kilometers. And that point defense targeting capability of theirs… it's every bit as ground shaking. Clearly we underestimated their technological advancement."

"I'll say."

He glanced over at her sharply. "That sounds like you've had additional experiences Starbuck. You have something to add?"

"Well, just one, Sir. It was really odd, and I didn't know how to put it into a report, so I was planning to come and see you soon anyway."

"Explain."

"I had Russki work up some patrol routes for the CAP. But when I reviewed them, the numbers were all wrong, and I mean way off. The routes went further out than should be possible, and the timeframes were way too short. So I had her check them again, and she came up with the same figures. She's really smart, so I knew it wasn't just a stupid mistake. I had her go over the math with me." Starbuck paused for several seconds as they continued to walk. "She was factoring in Inertial Dampening."

That got Bill's full and instant attention. "Say that again."

"Inertial dampening, Admiral. A roughly 90% reduction in inertia, which means when their pilots pull 6 Gs...they're really pulling 60. I asked her more about the system. Apparently their warships have it along all axes. The Starfuries, however, only get it along their main axis of thrust, so it's generally unusable in combat. However, for ferrying and patrols...it makes a hell of a difference.

"I had to tell her to redo to routes without inertial dampening, because we didn't have it. She seemed... pretty stunned. Apparently, going off of the other species they've met, they considered inertial control to be nothing more than a precursor to gravity control. The fact that we have the latter and not the former...well, she couldn't make sense of that at all."

He stopped and turned about, taking her back towards her dinner date. "Which means she's probably reported it in."

"Probably."

They walked in silence for the next minute, while Bill considered the ramifications. "Ok, Kara, I have a job for you."

"Sir?"

"Once Russki submits the corrected patrol routes, have her lead one of them. But make sure you stay on the ship."

"Ok...why?"

"You said Russki was a student, correct?"

"Yeah. She claims to be both a serving officer and a cadet at the same time. She's certainly young enough. And she keeps a stack of textbooks in her footlocker. She's always working in them whenever she has a spare moment. Honestly, it's kind of a drag. Makes me feel bad about drinking in front of her."

"Kara," he said warningly.

"Sorry, Admiral, but if I don't feel right drinking in front of her, you can imagine what it's like trying to spend any time with Anders with her hanging…"

"Starbuck!" he snapped. "Focus."

"Sorry, Sir. You had a job for me?"

"When Russki's out on that patrol...I want you to pull her textbooks, and image every page. You can requisition a camera from the Marines."

She seemed surprised. "Aren't we trying to build up trust with the Earthers, Sir? It seems like this might jeopardize that trust."

"We're just doing a little investigation. She'll probably never know."

"But she's a telepath."

"And apparently she stays out of peoples' heads. She only picks up on 'leaked' thoughts. Do you remember your SERE training?"

"Yes, Sir. The best way to hold onto information when you are being tortured is to keep it out of your thoughts."

"Practice that skill. If I understand how this telepathy thing works from the information the Earthers gave us….she'll probably even appreciate the effort."

"Yes, Admiral."

He stopped, just outside the door to the Pilot's Mess. As he had promised Anders, they hadn't been gone long. "This isn't meant as a hostile act, Starbuck. But we do need to know more about their technology and capabilities. I trust those textbooks to have that information more than I do the newspaper files the EA handed to us. If anything, this may help us to better build this relationship."

She just nodded, clearly not convinced. But she was still Kara. "I'll get it done, Sir."

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Unknown System, Cylon Fleet, Basestar - August, 2249

How long had it been. Days? Weeks? Things had been far from perfect, but she had been close to the power elites. And then, capture by the Cylons. And so she found herself here. With this man. Grunting out his lusts beneath her.

"Yes. Yes. Come on. Don't stop. Come on. Come on. You son of a bitch. Son of a bitch." Ellen Tigh, reduced to this. He spasmed and shouted beneath her, then broke into gales of laughter. Finished with the task at hand, she rose from him, fighting back the shame. She would do what was necessary. Necessary to survive. As she always did. Necessary to protect her family. As she always did.

She began to dress as he continued to chuckle. This man. This Cylon. Cavil. Bastard. "I must admit, I quite enjoyed that."

"I'm so glad. And...when do I get what I want?"

"I believe that's happening right now." Having dressed himself, he motioned for her to follow him, then led her on a long and winding route through the Basestar. These ships were every bit as large and confusing as the Galactica. Perhaps more so. He left her at a junction that looked no different than a thousand other, but was, he claimed, at the edge of the detention and interrogation facilities.

She stood there, alone, for what felt like hours. Probably was hours. Alone, except for the watchful gaze of a Centurion. Not daring to move, but still nervously fixing her hair and straightening her clothes. Over and over. She used the inane activity to continue to tamp down the regret. The shame. She would do it all again, if necessary. As many times as necessary. Only two things mattered. Survival, and getting him back.

As if summoned by her thoughts, he appeared around a corner. Hobbled, really, his clothes nearly as battered and torn as he was. And...gods, his eye… "Saul," she shouted, running to him. "Oh gods, what did they do to you?"

He embraced her tightly. "It's alright. I'm out. That's all that matters. Let's get out of here." The nearby Centurion straightened, then began to walk down one of the identical corridors. Silently, they followed. Going back to where the others waited. They'd still be captives. But at least they weren't torturing Saul anymore. He had made it out. Quite a few others had not. Too many. And it would only be a matter of time before the Cylon eye fell once more on Ellen and Saul Tigh.

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Unknown System, Exodus Fleet, Dreadnought Nova - August, 2249

Lee Adama and his father floated, weightless through the corridors of the Earth Alliance warship Nova. It was good practice, Lee reflected. He wasn't getting to spend nearly enough time in a Viper cockpit, and any maneuvering in zero G helped, even if it was only in his Commander's uniform, rather than with a hot rod fighter wrapped around him.

His father wasn't doing quite as well in the environment. He was really rusty, but Lee could see his sea legs coming back. And Commodore Sheridan, who had welcomed them aboard and was giving them the tour, was taking it easy. Still Lee felt relieved when they reached the Bridge, and the Admiral was able to step down into the gravity of plates ripped out of one of the Pegasus's auxiliary cargo holds.

"Admiral on the Bridge!" the Marine at the hatch barked. The entire Bridge crew rose to their feet and snapped to attention.

Captain Sinclair, who had been seated in some sort of silly Command Chair, turned and strode across the bridge to stand before the Admiral, then fired off a salute. Once it had been returned, Sinclair extended his hand. "Welcome to the Nova Admiral."

Lee's father shook the Captain's hand. "Glad to be here. You run a tight ship. Most impressive. Your crew as well."

"Having gravity in key areas like the Bridge has done wonders for the crew. It took a while for people to get used to it. We even had some torn muscles and ligaments and a couple of bone fractures from crew who had atrophied too far. But we're past the worst of it. We owe you a lot." Turning to Lee, he again held out his hand, "Commander Adama. Good to finally meet you. Or should I call you Apollo?"

"Apollo's fine. And I hear I should refer to you as God?"

"Not my call sign," he replied with a smile. Lee found himself liking the man "It's just what my flight trainees call me. Captain Sinclair if we're being formal. Jeff if we're not."

Lee nodded, but before he could respond further, his father cut him. "Captain Sinclair, Commodore Sheridan, I hate to impose further, but I was hoping we could go somewhere to speak privately."

"Of course," Jeff replied. "The Captain's quarters are just aft of the bridge. It's often used for meetings, so we decided to spare some grav plate for it as well. If you'll follow me?" It took less than half a minute for them to leave the bridge and cross to Sinclair's quarters. As it turned out, he had been planning to bring them here anyway, as there were drinks and a light snack laid out on the table. Jeff indicated that they should each grab seats around the table. Once seated, he simply asked, "What would you like to discuss, Admiral?"

"The hunt for Colonial One."

"And how has that been going?" Sheridan asked.

"Not worth a damn. Sending out a few Raptors at a time, so as to 'ensure the continued security of the fleet'...just isn't covering enough territory."

"And you're sure she survived the nuke?"

"I've shared the reports with you. No traces of debris found. That's just impossible, unless she wasn't there. And by now, even if damaged, they should have found their way back."

"Unless they were destroyed by the affects of the nuke they absorbed before they jumped," Sinclair noted, "or landed inside of a star or planet. I understand blind jumps can do that."

The Admiral paused, then gave a sharp nod of affirmation. "I don't find that to be the likely case. Numerically, jumping into a stellar body is somewhat unlikely. No, the most credible reason for their continued absence is that they are being prevented from returning. They've been captured by the Cylons. It's certainly the most likely explanation."

"But not the only one," Sinclair pressed again.

"No. But running off of that assumption...an educated assumption...our course is clear. We need to rescue our people. And a few Raptors just aren't going to cut it." Lee's eyes widened, though he remained silent. His father hadn't discussed this with him.

"I assume you have discussed this with President Zarek?" the Captain asked.

"Yes. Acting President Zarek reiterated his order that we only use minimal forces in any search and rescue attempts, so as not to endanger the fleet. However, I don't consider it within the acting President's authority to order me not to rescue the actual President. There's a clear conflict of interest.

"Well, since you brought up conflicts of interest...," Sinclair began, but Sheridan held up his hand and gave a minute shake of his head. Captain Sinclair cut short his response, which Lee very much appreciated. No doubt it would be a comment on the clearly growing personal relationship between William Adama and Laura Roslin. Instead, Jeff frowned for a moment, then asked, "So what you are saying is that you see Acting President Zarek as the legitimate authority of your fleet...just not in military disposition, particularly in regards to rescuing President Roslin." Receiving a nod from the Admiral, he commented, "that's an awfully slippery slope you're walking."

"It is," the Admiral agreed, ignoring the byplay and simply answering the question. "I've walked plenty of others."

"So what exactly are you saying?"

"It is my intention to take the Galactica, locate a Cylon vessel, and covertly track that vessel back the Cylon fleet….where presumably Colonial One and her passengers are being held. We will then enact a rescue."

"What!?" Lee asked in shock. This certainly shouldn't have been the first he was hearing about this. His father should have discussed it with him before bringing it to outsiders.

"Sorry to spring this on you, son, but this wasn't a conversation that could be had just anywhere. And you needed to be a part of it."

"What do you need from us?" Sheridan asked, taking over the Earth Force side of the conversation from Sinclair. "Munitions? We can't help with your Battlestar weaponry. But I know you've got shortages for your fighters. We've been working on some adapters to allow our Starfury munitions to mount on a Viper or Raptor. Hotdog tells us there's something of a range advantage over your own small ship missiles."

"That would be appreciated, Commodore, but it's not why I asked for this meeting." When neither Sheridan nor Sinclair chose to respond, he continued. "Given the continued presence of your fleet, and the firepower displayed by this ship...I think it's safe to say that the temporary absence of the Galactica will not materially diminish the security of the fleet. So you see...I'm not literally ignoring Zarek's order...though I doubt he will see it that way. Which is why I need you." he paused for a long moment, considering his words. "It is my intention to break off task force Pegasus and detach them temporarily to your command, Commodore Sheridan. I have to go back several decades, prior to unification under the Articles of Colonization, and draw from Caprican military law. Under those laws, a member of the Admiralty can, at need, detach forces under his command to an allied command, where they will serve as part of the allied nation's military structure until such time as that Admiral, or his replacement, recalls them, or they are released by the allied command. There's nothing saying I can't do this in Colonial military law, because once the Colonies were united, there was no one to loan forces to. Which means Zarek won't be able to do anything about it. He won't be able to legally withdraw those forces...or, at the very least, it would require a lengthy and intricate litigation effort. He can fire me, but not until I return, since I intend to be gone before he realizes what has happened. And, of course, it is my hope that upon my arrival, he will no longer have the authority to do so, President Roslin being back in her role. And if we fail...if I return without the President..then I'll be deserving of whatever discipline he chooses to enact."

"Dad...," Lee began, but his father interrupted.

"I'm sorry Lee, but I can't put you in charge of the fleet. You've been doing a great job on the Pegasus, but you don't have the experience to lead the entire fleet. Nor am I certain that you would stand up to acting President Zarek, if he starts giving orders."

"No, I'm with you. I don't want that responsibility. But...I have a request." Lee waited for his father's nod, then continued. "Take the Pegasus. If you're really going to try to rip them out of the arms of an entire Cylon fleet….you're going to need the extra combat ability. The Galactica's a fine ship, but she's not up to the job."

The Admiral bristled at the slight to his ship but, after taking a deep breath and thinking for a moment, nodded again. "Alright. Take care of my ship." Turning to face Sheridan directly, he said, "Of course, this all depends on whether or not the Commodore will accept the detachment of the Galactica."

Sheridan glowered. "You realize, of course, that you are putting me in a very tenuous position. Should your mission fail, you would be simultaneously negating all of the time we have put into establishing a working relationship with you, Admiral, while also creating bad blood between us and President Zarek, and probably whoever your replacement ends up being as well. I don't see the President putting Commander Adama in charge. Not after this little stunt." He took a deep breath. "There's an old saying from Earth. 'In for a penny, in for a pound.' Maybe you had something similar." He stood up and extended his hand to the Admiral. "I'm in, Sir. Good luck and good hunting to you. When do you intend to depart?"

"The sooner the better. I don't want this leaking out. Within the next couple of hours, ideally."

"Admiral," Lee cut in, "could you give me four? There is a personnel disposition I need to deal with. His father gave him a curious glance, but simply nodded.

.

.

And so it was that, a couple of hours later, Commander Lee Adama found himself striding through the halls of the Galactica, down in the family residential quarters. Once he had located the correct room, he rapped twice on the hatch. However, when no response came, he simply walked through.

He immediately noted the recumbent form on the room's sole bunk, completely ensconced under the blankets. "Get up. You have a mission."

"Frak you," came the muffled voice. "Get out."

"Better pack fast," he continued. "Your transport departs in fifteen minutes."

"Transport?" There was a thrashing in the bunk, until finally a feminine arm pierced the blankets and peeled them away from a bleary eyed face. "Commander Adama. In case you forgot, I'm a prisoner here. I may no longer be locked in a cell, but if I try to go on any 'mission,' the Marines on the other side of that hatch are going to be less than amused."

"I've already reassigned the Marines," he said, "and officially reinstated you as a member of the crew."

"That's hardly your call to make, Commander, and I doubt Daddy would approve."

"It becomes my call when I officially take command of this Battlestar, which happens in…" he glanced at his watch, "just over thirty minutes. We're just getting this meeting out of the way a little early."

"Besides, why would I want to be part of this crew. The Admiral had me thrown in the brig...again. The only reason I was released was the Earth Force Commodore."

"You hurt him."

"For the last time, that wasn't me. That was Boomer. I'm Sharon. A completely different person. This shouldn't be that hard. It's not like you people don't have twins or triplets or even more on occasion."

"It's not. We'll figure it out. But you know that's not what I meant. Your betrayal hurt him. He took a major chance on you. A great many people told him not to trust a Cylon…"

"I earned that trust," she snapped.

"And what did you do with it?" he barked back. "The very first mission, the very first, you allowed a Cylon to sneak aboard this vessel. That's what hurt him. But he would have forgiven you, given time. We just don't have the time anymore."

She glared at him and hissed, "He stole my baby, and lied about her death. And then dangled hope of a reunion in front of my nose just to tell me once again that she had died in a nuclear blast. I have no interest in your mission. I have no interest in helping that man. Just leave and let me die in peace."

She started to bury her face in the blankets again, so he plowed on. "We think Hera's alive." That got her immediate and undivided attention. "There was no wreckage from Colonial One in the blast. We think a Cylon agent may have hijacked the vessel. That or they managed an emergency jump out and somehow ended up in Cylon hands. He's taking the Pegasus to rescue them."

She looked stunned. "So he...lied to me. Again. He lied about my baby being dead...again."

"We didn't know. It took some time to put together the facts. And then we didn't want to get your hopes up, only to smash them again. Think what you want about us, but we're not cruel. This is your chance to get Hera back."

"He's not going for Hera," she spat. "He's going for her."

Lee had no need to ask who she meant. "He's going for all of our people...and that includes Hera. And the odds are against him. He needs you. You want your daughter back? You want your family back? You want Hera to grow up with her mother and father, rather than surrounded by Cylons who can't possibly love her the way the two of you do? This is you chance to make it happen."

She hesitated. "So...why did he send you instead of coming himself?"

Now it was Lee's turn to hesitate. What now? That was obvious. There was really only one viable option. Tell the truth. "He doesn't know I'm here. It didn't occur to him to bring you in."

"Oh, it occurred to him. And he clearly rejected the idea. He doesn't want my help. If I try to force it, he'll just have me thrown back in the brig. No thank you."

"Like I said, you hurt him. But he's far too practical to turn down the help. He'll come around. Especially if he doesn't know you're there until after the Pegasus departs."

"The Pegasus?" she asked in confusion.

"I convinced him to take the Pegasus. I figured he could use the added firepower. That's why I'm taking command of the Galactica. Now quit stalling, your transport leaves in ten minutes." She leapt out of the bunk and rapidly began to dress. It turned out she'd been mostly undressed under those blankets, and he spun rapidly to face the wall.

However, he heard her pause in her movements. "What about Helo?"

"He's on duty. I'll inform him of what's happening after he comes off shift."

"When it's too late for him to object, or insist he come along."

"You're godsdamned right."

She once more began to dress and pack, but then paused again. "I can't...I can't lose my baby again. I can't be told that she's dead again. It will kill me."

He didn't hesitate. "Bring our people home, Sharon, and I will personally ensure that never happens."

"Not even if your Admiral or your President demands it?"

"Not even if the gods demand it. You bring our people home, and I will go to the wall for you."

.

Unknown System, Cylon Fleet, Basestar - August, 2249

When the council of Cylon models gathered, it was rarely an overly formal affair. However, today the atmosphere felt a good deal more serious. And Cavil, as always, was just a bit grumpy. "Well? We're all here. What was so urgent that we couldn't wait for the next scheduled meeting?"

D'Anna was unimpressed by his irritation. There was very little that Cavil said or did that impressed her. "Adama is searching for Colonial One."

"Yes. We all knew that. Are we done here?"

"And did you know that he is now committing the Pegasus, and specifically hunting for us?"

"He couldn't possibly know we have Colonial One."

"Perhaps not...but he suspects, and that's enough."

Cavil glared at her suspiciously. "How exactly do you know this."

She scoffed. "How do we know anything that happens on that fleet? Spies. One of our sisters embedded in the fleet managed to get off a report."

His eyes narrowed. "And why didn't I hear about that?" He swept his glare around the table, at all of the other Cylons sitting silently there. Some of them seemed to wither under that gaze. Others just looked back unconcernedly.

"You're hearing about it now," D'Anna responded. "The moment it came in, I knew it was important enough to be brought...to everyone."

Cavil raised his hand and flicked his wrist, as though shoeing the matter away. "Fine, fine. It's hardly a matter of concern. In fact...this could work out very well for us."

"Adama is coming after us with the humans' most powerful ship, and you think it's hardly a matter of concern?" Caprica broke in.

"But it's not their most powerful ship, is it?" he responded grimly. "Not anymore. Not since the people claiming to be the 13th Colony arrived. They're not, by the way."

"So you've told us," Boomer cut in, "but how do you know?"

"I just do. Maybe God told me."

"Don't blaspheme," Aaron Doral advised. "So if they're not the 13th Tribe, who are they and where did they come from?"

"I don't know. Not yet. But we'll find out."

"We're getting distracted from the main issue," D'Anna snapped. "Adama is coming. And he's going to try to take back the Colonials...and Hera."

"And, as I said," Cavil replied, a predatory smile on his face, "it's not a problem. We won't let him take anyone. Since that disaster of an attack against the human fleets, we've been forced to keep our ships in large task forces, in case we should have to fight them again. That alone threatens to allow the humans to escape. We don't have enough ships to maintain a proper search if we have to keep them in groups of ten or twelve. But now, if Adama is coming after us….well, there's not much he can do besides die spectacularly. This fleet will crush the Pegasus like a bug. In fact...we'd better send some ships away, so we don't scare him off. Keep just enough to ensure there is no possibility of loss, but few enough that, given his clear desperation, he'll still be willing to try an attack.

"Honestly, this is a gift. Not only does this weaken their overall fleet, and remove a thorn from our side….but it also locks the rest of them in place. Their fleets can't move on, or Adama wouldn't be able to return to them once his mission is completed. Which neatly solves our tracking problem. And with Adama and the Pegasus gone...we'll have a much better chance at taking out that new fleet. They won't have the experience to counter our tactics. You worry too much D'Anna. This is wonderful news."

"Celebrate all you want. But even if you don't want to admit it, there's still a danger here. Those people are some of the highest ranking Colonials in their fleet. They hold it together. We can't afford to give them back. And there is no way I am letting Hera go. She's too important to our people. She's our future." The birth of Hera had been celebrated by the Cylons as a path to the future. And her death had been taken hard. It had been D'Anna who had noticed the baby on board the Colonial One, and demanded to be allowed to hold her...more out of curiosity than anything else. Babies weren't a part of being Cylon. And she had gotten a feeling...a certainty really. She'd immediately insisted on testing the child, and been awed to discover that the child was actually half Cylon...Hera. That possible future was not closed off to them. It lived and breathed in the tiny infant.

"Yes...how is your little side project going."

D'Anna scowled at him again, but replied, "We still have no idea how she was conceived."

"Oh...do we need to talk about the Birds and the Bees? I thought we covered that already."

"This isn't funny," she snapped. "If we can't learn how to reproduce…"

"Then we'll just keep producing our current models," he interrupted. "And we'll improve them the old fashioned way...engineering and design iteration."

"Hera could also be the key to the humans' survival. I won't give her up, and I won't take chances. They're not getting her back."

"You did just hear me say we were going to draw in and then destroy the Pegasus, right? I'm not just talking to myself here."

"We need insurance," she demanded flatly.

Cavil paused, looking at her curiously. It was Boomer who asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"I want to install one of our bombardment nukes in the heart of our main reactor. If it looks like Adama might actually succeed in taking Hera and our other guests...we blow up the ship...along with anything even remotely close."

"You do know that if you blow up Hera, you don't get to keep her, right?" Cavil asked in a rather sarcastic tone.

"Better than giving her to the Colonials. Imagine what the humans would do to her."

"Just making sure. It's a complete and utter waste of time. But, if it makes you feel better, fine. Install as many nukes as you like."