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Viper II Fan · Mar 12th 2009, 7:10am

Chapter Six: Its time to learn the truth

Colonial Section
USS George H.W. Bush

Gods after seven frakking days of just sitting here on our asses, can we please get to work! Kara thought. She was in her room, onboard the American warship ship, engaged in another exercise session. A section of the ship and a series of rooms had been sealed off for their use, and the confinement was starting to get to Starbuck. Of course, the Thirteenth Tribe had not treated her at all like Leoben did on New Caprica, but the confined area was bringing back bad memories.

At least the Americans had ditched their bio-warfare suits a day or two earlier, but they still came with surgical masks on into what was currently the Colonial section of the ship. It was nice to actually hear them clearly, and to see them without their suits in the way. To help deal with her confinement, Kara had been doing a lot of exercise, at least what she could do in the limited surroundings; tons of sit-ups, stomach crunches, pull-ups using the stuff attached or hanging from the ceilings, and a jump rope one of the American docs brought her after Kara got Athena to translate the request.

Starbuck was on her fiftieth or sixtieth jump as Lee walked in, “Hey what’s the news for today?” she asked.

Lee was just watching as Kara jumped. Not answering her he commented, “I think you’re going to be in better shape than me before we get out of here. All you have been doing is working out, me I can’t stop eating.” Although Lee had only gotten carefully designed meals from the ship’s galley, after months of eating algae it was a wonderful indulgence.

Starbuck looked down at her sweaty body which was starting to soak her athletic top and shorts. She smiled, “Like what ya see there Mr. Politician?”

“No...I mean...you know what frak you.” Lee stammered.

Kara stopped with the jumping. Going for a water bottle she answered, “I think my husband might have a problem with that. Me not so much....”

Lee just looked at the grey ceiling for help, “My Gods there are times I wonder why I put up with you.”

Starbuck drying herself off with a towel smiled, “Because you like me to keep you on your toes.”

Hoping to get Kara to stop playing with him Lee decided to move on, “The Admiral gave me the low down on what’s up in the Fleet. The Quorum is getting impatient. They want us to start talking regardless of what plague might be released. The civilians are starting to have organized protests demanding that they be let down to Earth. President Roslin is trying to keep everybody calm giving them some details, basically the same as yesterday.”

“Wonder how the planet is reacting to all this.” Starbuck wondered as she pulled a light sweat shirt on.

“Athena has been watching a lot of it on their TV. As is our two Cylon friends. Hey did they try to ask you about Athena or Claire yet?”

Kara shook her head, “No. First it would be hard since they have been using them and Sonja for all the translating. Either they are either really dumb thinking that they’re twins or they know something is up but are waiting for us to tall get together before dealing with it.”

“Make’s me nervous as it does the President.” The younger Adama admitted. He took a seat in Kara’s room, “Now that we are ready to talk, I’m starting to get some stage fright.”

Starbuck was about to comment when she realized what Lee had let slip, “So we finally get to do some work?”

Lee nodded, “According to the doctors we don’t seem to be carrying anything that could kill them all. Galactica said the same. Nothing they have should bother us. So we are going to have our first meeting in about an hour. That’s why I came in.”

Kara smirked and struck a pose, “I thought you came to watch me work out?”

Lee just groaned, “Please, we are about to have probably the most important meeting in Colonial history and you want to keep tormenting me?”

“Whatever makes you comfortable.” she said, resulting in Lee throwing a spare towel at her.

..........................

Sharon stood facing the mirror getting ready. Due to their mission she and Starbuck were required to wear their dress uniforms. Galactica had used the last bit of detergent to clean their clothes before going down to Earth. However the Americans wanted to make sure everything was germ free. So all the clothes they had brought down were sent to the George Bush’s laundry. After being disinfected and cleaned, they were given back to the Colonials. Sharon couldn’t believe how fresh her dress uniform looked and smelled. Sharp creases had been returned to the pants, her jacket pressed and without any sign of wear and tear.

It added to her pride in wearing it. She had been serious when she swore an oath to Adama and the Fleet. Earning the uniform and the privileges that went with it had not been easy. Plus it was one more thing to distinguish her from them, the other Eights. Even though she had suggested it to the Admiral, she wasn’t a fan of having another model Eight with the landing group. The way they looked at her after they first met her, the way some of them held her in reverence it creeped her out. She didn’t know how the Final Four dealt with being the object of the Rebel Cylon’s beliefs, but knew she couldn’t have handled it.

As it neared the time of the meeting, Athena got more nervous. Part of her feared once the Americans had learned of her true nature, if they hadn’t already, how would they react? What if it was as the Colonials had, feared and hated? However her rational conclusion had been they wouldn’t. She and the other Cylons had watched a lot of human television. The Americans were obliviously controlling some of what they saw. From what she could gleam though they didn’t fear technology.

For an hour she watched a show on something called the ‘Discovery Channel’. It seemed to be a network devoted to science, technology, history, and anything else that could be related to Earth (although she didn’t understand how two people got paid to have a show where they ‘tested’ myths?). The program was on the future of applying future technology to the human body. It showed scientists and people who were willing and in some cases excited about the idea of installing microchips, cybernetic implants, even mini-computers into their brains. Even though what they were suggesting was far behind anything the Cylons had achieved, it was more important they were not afraid of any of it.

Sonja whom she preferred dealing with over the Eight, told her of a program she said was an ‘anime’. Even though she could make no sense what so ever of the plot, it involved cybernetic organisms, robots, and all other sorts of technology that would have terrified a Colonial. We might find some peace here, she thought, a place where I can raise my daughter, be with my husband without anyone hating us.

“Athena, are you ready?” Lee asked through her door.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” She answered.

.......................

Gaius Baltar much like Starbuck was relieved to be finally doing something. The other Colonials had largely ignored him while they waited for the Americans to run their tests. Sonja had at the very least tried to be polite. She even attempted to explain a human information program to Baltar. He had hated listening to her translate things. Gaius hoped their hosts had made some progress in breaking the language barrier. At the very least then they would have been able to provide some subtitles for the television programs. Much to his dismay he had learned little of Earth.

“Patience, Gaius.” Six said as she walked behind him. The Colonials and Cylons were heading to their first official meeting with the Americans.

“You told me to learn as much about Earth as I could. So far I haven’t done very well with that task have I?” he complained.

Six just smiled, “All things take time Gaius. One must wait as God’s plan unfolds.”

“I think I’ve waited long enough.” He spat.

“Relax Doc were almost there.” Starbuck replied thinking Baltar was complaining again. Gaius looked for his phantom companion but she was gone, for now.

A pair of soldiers was guarding the entrance to their meeting place. Each one wore a camouflage patterned uniform similar to, but different from the Colonial Marines. They each wore a surgical mask and a belt with a sidearm. Both saluted the group as they arrived. Everyone except Baltar and the two Rebel Cylons returned it.

Athena did the talking as usual, “The Colonial delegation is ready.”

The one of the Americans nodded, “Yes ma’am Mr. McGee just needs a moment.”

......................

Deputy Secretary of State Sean McGee was reviewing the last of his instructions from Washington. He mentally checked off what he could talk about and what was taboo. There were things he could agree too, other he couldn’t, a lot of rules and regulations that told him what to do. His boss Secretary Keller summed up her orders with a quote, Sean to quote a brave American, ‘Dear Lord, please don’t let me fuck up’. Don’t fuck this up McGee, good luck Julie Keller.

He sighed which earned a quick pat on the back from Admiral Duffy, “Nervous son?”

McGee nodded, “Yeah, big time.”

“It’s okay. Just try and picture them naked.”

The State Department man frowned, “You’re kidding?”

“Yeah.” The Admiral chuckled taking his seat.

The others in the room showed they were good to go. Sean took one last breath and said, “Okay send them in.”

One of the staffers got up and knocked on the metal door. The hatch opened and the procession of Colonials was lead in by a Marine. McGee and the others stood and waited as the visitors from above took spots near a table across from the Americans. The same Marine that had opened the hatch now went back through it closing the door.

McGee took a breath and then spoke in very bad Colonial Standard. It had taken the small group at State a few hours to figure out how he should say it, “Welcome, on behalf of the United States of America I am Deputy Secretary of State Sean McGee.”

Lee surprised by the use of his native tongue, all be it badly, did his best to reply. Of course he had Athena help him with the English, “Thank...You I am Lee Adama, from the Twelve Colonies.”

McGee showed his appreciation at Adama’s attempt and then stated, “If you don’t mind I’m going to stick to English and let Lt. Agathon translate.”

Athena did so for Lee who nodded, “No problem, I doubt you’d want me to try anything else in English.”

As the translation got across the Americans in the room chuckled and everyone took their seats. Sean collected his paper and introduced the group in the room from the United States. Lee had Athena do the same for the Colonials, the Cylons introduced themselves.

With all that out of the way, McGee got down to business, “This is a monumental moment in the history of the United States and the world. I am sure you have much to tell us, as we do. Since this is such a historic moment, I don’t know what protocols or rules we should follow. So I guess if it’s best that you just started with your story.”

McGee felt a little bit of the pressure ease off. Although he had argued and dealt with hundreds of other diplomats and dozens of dictators, he was careful, as if this was his first time conducting secret discussions and negotiations. They needed answers but did not want to push the Colonials.

Lee knew the ball was in their court so he started. Athena delivered his tone very well

“Secretary McGee we are humans just like you. Our home is far from here. Thousands of years ago my ancestors settled on twelve worlds. These were the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. We lived there a long time. During out time on the Colonies we developed a new technology. Artificial intelligences we call Cylons. Over a hundred years ago we created the first models. They were fully mechanical robots that we used as slaves. For years the Cylons did the most dangerous jobs, deep space mining, menial labor, and fought our wars. Then one day the Cylons evolved, surpassed their programming. That day they decided they no longer wanted to be slaves and tried to kill their masters. Thus began the First Cylon War.”

McGee listening to the explanation in awe was struck by the end statement and said, “First?”

Adama nodded after Athena translated the question. He then continued through Sharon, “Yes. The Cylons fought us to a standstill. Neither of us could destroy the other. Eventually an armistice was signed. They left the Twelve Colonies, and went into deep space. We had hoped to maintain relations but the Cylons didn’t respond. So many years went by many wondered if we would ever hear from them again. But we did, and in the worst way possible.”

“They attacked didn’t they?” Duffy concluded.

Lee replied, “Yes they did. Three years ago the Cylons launched a surprise attack against the Twelve Colonies. In the forty years between the two wars, the Cylon continued to evolve. They were able to make human models, and used this ability to infiltrate Colonial society and our military security.”

Baltar used all his will power to keep from fidgeting, managing to stay subdued as Adama described the attack on the Colonies. Duffy and McGee saw Lt. Agathon, Sonja, and Claire shifted uncomfortably. Both men glanced at each other with their eyes. They knew something was up. They listened as Athena described the destruction of the Colonies and their military forces.

McGee said, “My God...”

Duffy was picturing something like that happening to the Navy. It made his skin crawl, “How many?”

Lee shook his head, “No one has exact numbers. 50,000 escaped with Galactica our total population was near 20 billion.”

McGee and the other civilians in the room paled. Nothing on Earth, not even World War II came close to the death these people had experienced.

“I’m so sorry, our condolences.” McGee offered.

“Thank you. Galactica has shepherd our civilian fleet we have suffered loses along the way. We have 35,000 people left now and we hope they can find a place here on Earth.” Lee added.

McGee shook his head, “We hope to discuss many issues including possible settlement. There are many details to work out first. One area I would like to work out an agreement on is emergency aid.” As Athena translated, Duffy kept thinking about the numbers. They started out with 50,000 thousand they’re down to 30,000, how?

“Mr. Secretary if you don’t mind I have a question.” Duffy interrupted. McGee was a little surprised but allowed the Admiral to continue. Preparing himself Duffy leaned forward, “You suffered many loses, I was wondering how did they occur?”

Athena exchanged glances with Lee. The other Colonials were uncomfortable, especially the twins and the very attractive blonde. Adama was still trying to come up with the right reply. Sonja spoke, “The Colonials suffered losses from disease, lack of resources, and combat fatalities. Many of their citizens were lost on a world called New Caprica.”

McGee and the others noted the separation when she spoke of the Colonials. He followed up, “What happened on New Caprica?”

Claire answered, “The Cylons found them…we found them.”

Silence hung over the room. Duffy broke it with one word, “Shit.”

Situation Room
The White House

President Hayes was beginning to hate this room. She was seriously considering making it an order unless she had to be down here, no more meetings would be held in the Sit Room. However Allison knew she was just fuming. A room wasn’t responsible for bad news. Just once I want to come down here and get good news, we’ve found buried treasure or universal peace has broken out, the President jokingly thought.

“Sean, you sure this isn’t some BS tale designed to gain our sympathy.” Secretary Keller asked her subordinate.

They had established a video teleconference with the George Bush. Sitting in set of three flat screens were Sean McGee, Admiral Duffy, and Alex Monroe from CIA. The first official meeting with Colonials was in recess while both sides dealt with the latest information. McGee responded to his boss’s question, “No Madam Secretary. This was a truthful tale. They are not sharing some details, that’s for sure but it isn’t a lie.”

Jack Robertson hissed, “This is the plot of a bad movie or TV show.”

“As much as I wished that to be true Jack, we are in a very difficult spot.” General Emerson shared his feelings.

President Hayes broke out of her mental funk, “I’m still having trouble with this. There are two groups of Cylons?”

Sean McGee took the lead, “Madam President it seems that the Cylons have been hunting the Colonials since the start of their second war. After the occupation of the Twelve Colonies, rifts began to appear in Cylon society. Some led by a group influential Cylons thought the war against the Colonials was a mistake. This resulted in an attempt to co-exist with the Colonials.”

“New Caprica?” the President asked.

Duffy took over, “Yes ma’am. However the Cylons marched in. Instead of winning hearts and minds they decided to enforce cooperation at gun point. Colonial resistance didn’t help matters. Eventually they got off that rock. The Cylons were back in space after that, hunting the Colonial Fleet. Now it seems the Cylons are not giving us the full story, but another spilt occurred. This one has resulted in a Civil War. A faction made up of what they call models Two, Six, and Eight decided to ally with the Colonials.”

Hayes was confused, “Why?”

“It seems they were being hunted by the other Cylons. Plus they helped the Colonials find Earth somehow.” McGee finished.

“And if they can do it, why not these other Cylons.” Emerson stated.

Baker agreed, “Based on what they have told us, the Cylons could show up at any time. We are not ready.”

President Hayes didn’t like it when her two top military advisors were predicting doom, “How bad is it General, Mr. Secretary?”

Baker looked at Emerson and vice versa. They mentally asked the other who should start first. Deciding since he was the one to first speak, he should elaborate Emerson began, “Madam President as it stands we are not prepared to fight an enemy that controls space. The Cylons could park themselves in orbit like the Colonials and start raining down missiles on our cities and bases. We’d be hard pressed to stop them.”

“Plus anything we might come up with” Baker added, “Like modifying an ICBM or one of the ABM weapons might be useless. The Cylons operate fighters like the Colonials. We now know one of their ships was involved in the incident in China. Although it was an accident that ship had no problem taking out the PLAAF planes. A missile or HKV in orbit with no maneuverability, it’d be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

“So we’re defenseless?” she summarized.

“Not completely. Our F-22s were able to get close to the Colonial craft without being detected. They even admit our stealth systems were working against their DRADIS. If they came down into the atmosphere we could make them pay for it.” Baker offered.

Duffy decided to throw his two cents in, “Mr. Chairmen if you don’t mind?” Emerson indicated he had no problem with Duffy speaking. The Admiral continued, “The Cylons have also engaged in occupations. They might not want to wipe us out. If they want to mix it up on the ground I like our chances. Of course if they run into trouble then they could fall back on attacking us from orbit.”

“Alright assume the Cylons show up within the next week, what do we do?” Hayes asked.

Baker shifted in his seat, “We could always tell the Colonials no. Inform them that we cannot allow them to settle here.”

Keller was aghast, “After what they’ve been through? Jesus Harold they’ve lost ninety-nine percent of their population is gone. You want to tell them, sorry but we aren’t involved in your little problem please leave?”

“Do you think I like that idea? It is one that people are going to suggest. Some of our own allies will be for it. Plus it might mean something to the Cylons should they show up.” Baker hated his suggestion but it needed to be said.

“Respectfully Mr. Secretary I disagree. Even if we send the Colonials on their way, this Cavil and his forces might blast just based on the fact we are human. This is a war of hate for him. He blames the Colonials for the suffering of his forerunners; I doubt he’d be willing to listen to our arguments considering we are pretty well defenseless.” Duffy stated.

President Hayes shook her head, “No. We can’t just send them away in a chance to save ourselves.”
McGee coughed, “Madam President there is also another issue. Earth just isn’t a possible home to the Colonials. It was suggested that some members of the Fleet see us as a Promised Land. That their Gods brought them here, and they might take issues with our version of events.”

“There’s no truth to this, is there?” Hayes ventured.

An NSC member replied, “Madam President Earth’s fossil record stretches back millions of years. Humans and our predecessors are there as well. I can’t theorize on how humans got to space, but we came from this planet.”

“We’ll worry about the details later.” Hayes decided, “First thing, I am not going to turn these people away. Even with these Cylons in their Fleet. The Colonials have entrusted them enough to have one as an officer.”

McGee reinforced that notion, “It seems the Colonials are working with the Cylons. According to them the alliance they’ve agreed upon has held. They’ve shared intelligence and even engaged in combat together. Also the Cylons, Sonja and Claire have been more than willing to let Mr. Adama take the lead in these meetings.”

“Alright this is bigger than we thought, if that is even possible.” Hayes said, “We need a meeting and I mean today with the Ambassadors of the major powers. I want a short brief written for them. Secretary McGee, Admiral Duffy, keep talking with the Colonials and Cylons. Let them know we aren’t going to turn them away. I want as much information on their military abilities as possible. If you have anything before we are ready to go here with the Ambassadors let us know.”

“Yes Madam President.” The younger man answered. The feed from the carrier ended.

“Harold, General Emerson I have an idea. Julie I want your feed back as well.” The President started before outlining what she hoped would be the start of a plan.

USS George H.W. Bush

“So what do we think?” Lee asked the group as they waited.

Sonja sighed, “They weren’t happy with our news, however I don’t see how they would in any situation.”

Starbuck offered, “Duffy was mad but not at us or even you I think. McGee was concerned. Even if they don’t want to kick us off the planet their bosses might not be so favorable.”

Baltar decided to risk the wrath of the others with his opinion, “They are waiting for orders from their superiors. I believe Mr. McGee was impressed by our recent cooperation with the Cylons. He also might see the Rebel Cylon allow the Colonials to take the lead as a positive sign as well.”

Lee paced with his hands in his pockets, “Well it’s out of our hands now. Baltar do they have any chance if the Cylons did come?”

“Well I’ve only seen a little of this ship. However based on what I saw of their aircraft technology and what I was briefed on before coming down here, gives me the impression that they are weak in space. They would need massive help before they could try to mount a defense.”

Claire added, “Hopefully they can see what we can do for them.”

“But it will take time.” Baltar warned, “I’m not even sure we can do it with the resources here on this planet. We won’t know anything without further meetings.”

Athena sighed, “None of this will matter if they tell us to leave.”

There was a knock at the door. Sharon turned and opened it. Waiting was Deputy Secretary of State McGee and Admiral Duffy. The civilian asked, “May we come in.”

She checked with Lee who gestured them to come in. The two Americans entered and stood. McGee began, “We have discussed the situation with our government. President Hayes has decided that further discussions are necessary. Washington is working on bringing in the other world powers right now. She hopes to have a meeting with by the end of the day. Before that can happen we were hoping you could inform us of some of your and the Cylon’s military capabilities.”

It took a moment for what Sean said to sink in. Starbuck quieted a yell of excitement. They are going to let us stay, she thought. For a moment it didn’t matter that Earth wasn’t what they expected, or that the Cylons might show up, they had home.

Lee sighed and held out his hand. McGee took it. As the shook Lee commented, “I’m thankful and sorry at the same time.”

As Athena translated, Duffy shook Lee’s hand and said, “Yeah it won’t be easy but we’ll figure it out together.”

McGee finished with the Colonials and then offered his hand to Sonja, “All of us, humans and machines.” She nodded and took it.

Starbuck relaxed and smiled, “Anybody got a drink?”

Cabinet Room
The White House

It was unusual. Unless it was an official meeting or scheduled event, they usually met one on one. The men and women in the room were the Ambassadors from some of the major powers on the planet. Although to have them all called together by the American President was unusual, they all suspected the cause, the spaceships above. All of their countries had reacted different ways. All had put their militaries on increased alert however except for the Chinese none had any trouble from their visitors.

Even though it had been a week since the spacecraft had arrived, no one had succeeded with communicating with them. Of course that was the public line. The countries that were American allies knew something was up. It was impossible for those with satellite intelligence platforms to not notice the Atlantic 2nd Fleet stationed in the middle of the North Atlantic simply circling the same spot. The Russians carefully had shared their intelligence on the intercepted American-Colonial messages to the Chinese and a few others who were not represented in the room. Both the PRC and Russian ambassadors talked in hushed tones to each other working out how to respond to the Americans.

A new arrival entered the room, Secretary of State Keller, “Ambassadors, thank you for coming on such short notice. The President will be arriving in a minute if we could please take out seats.”

The men and women moved to different chairs. A White House staffer had managed to find some nameplates for each country and quickly worked out a seating arrangement. More American officials arrived, including Secretary of Defense Baker, the Joint Chiefs of Staff led by General Emerson, some State Department people, and aides for all the above. The room was quite filled down between the Americans and all the ambassadors and their staff.

Finally the last person arrived, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

Everyone stood again as Hayes entered the room, “Please everyone take a seat we don’t have time for ceremony. Thank you all for coming.”

With everyone settled the President began, “I am sure you all know why you have been asked to come here. This meeting is of course about the spacecraft above the planet. As some of the most influential countries of the world and many of you members of the UN Security Council, our nations are expected to respond to this situation.”

“Interesting you should say that Madam President.” The Russian Ambassador interrupted. He waited to see if anyone would try and stop him. No one did, event the President was waiting for him to continue, “Yes we are all here as major powers or members of the UN’s most important body, yet it seems your nation is moving to monopolize contact with the visitors.”

“Outrageous.” The British Ambassador came to the defense of his country’s long time ally and cousins.
“They were visited as was Russia and my country. How can they have monopolized contact with our visitors?” The French Ambassador asked her collogues.

The Russian smiled, “Our intelligence sources have concrete proof the visitors called Colonials have contacted the United States, and that the United States has even opened negotiations with them.”

All the Ambassadors began talking to their aides or neighbors. The Russian and Chinese looked confident, but noticed that neither Hayes nor her staff was fazed by his revelation. A skilled diplomat, the Russian knew that Hayes had something else up her sleeve.

She nodded, “Ambassador Babryshkin is correct. The visitors did send us a message and we responded. A small delegation of them is now onboard the USS George Bush with the 2nd Fleet.”

Some shouting occurred from the people in the room. The French and Germans gave the Americans dirty looks. They suspected something had been up, but nothing as far as face to face meetings. The British Ambassador sighed he was a little upset they were kept in the dark but not surprised by the news. Allison waited as all the Ambassadors blew off their steam then very undiplomatically stated, “Are we finished children?”

That got everyone to shut up. Hayes took a breath and continued, “They contacted us. It was never my intention to withhold or monopolize communication with them. I hoped to find answers too many questions we and I’m sure you have.”

“Such as how these visitors can be human.” The Japanese Ambassador calmly stated.

“Yes. In fact we have a sample of what we have learned so far.” She nodded to the wall hugging aides around the room. They began to pass out briefing packets for each country. The Ambassadors snatched them up and began to read the summary at the beginning of each of their packets.

One by one they became shocked and worried. Allison watched as the news hit them, and how much they realized things were going to change. It was time to hit them up, now before they could begin blustering again, “These people, they are people, are on the run for their lives. Against an enemy that has hunted across who knows how many light years. Some of these Cylons have joined them and wish to ally with us.”

She paused, and then continued, “Even if we sent them away what would it get us? If the Colonials and Rebel Cylons found us then there is no reason the Loyalist Cylons can’t either.”

“But we are not these Colonials!” the Chinese Ambassador complained, “How can this Cavil, blame us for their mistakes?”

“The same way my people blamed Jews.” The German quietly said. He felt sympathy for the Rebel Cylons, who like his nation long ago had committed terrible crimes and had to live up to what they had done, “It isn’t about logic Xian, this Cavil has put all his problems, his rage, hate, anger into a single cause, regardless of the Colonials’ actual guilt. We’re human, we are his enemy.”

“Hans is right.” President Hayes silently thanked the ambassador for that speech, it had worked, “One of my country’s founders said, ‘We shall either hang together, or hang separately’. No country on this planet will be safe if the Cylons come. Nor will the Colonials if we send them into space again. If either of our societies is going to survive we have to do it together.”

The room was dead quiet. Closing his briefing packet the Russian Ambassador looked at the American leader, “What do you suggest?”

Allison felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The first steps were underway.

kclcmdr · Mar 12th 2009, 7:16am

JoeHundredaire · Mar 12th 2009, 8:03am

*sighs* There's a 'story only' thread and a 'discussion' thread. Where do you think that last post of yours should have gone?

Viper II Fan · Mar 12th 2009, 9:11am

This is a story only thread. Please follow kclcmdr's links above to reach the discussion thread and other chapters. Thank You.

Viper II Fan · Mar 22nd 2009, 8:27pm

Chapter Seven: Getting a Reservation

Admiral’s Quarters
Battlestar Galactica

Adama grunted as he came out of the depths of sleep. He had fallen asleep in his rack with piles of reports and other papers on his chest and lap. Carefully he shifted position grabbing the piles before they could go all over the place. Once he had them out of the way, Adama swung out of the bunk feet first and put his glasses on. Even though he still had his trousers on, Bill put his old robe on.

Moving the piles of paper on his desk he headed to the bathroom. He then began his routine of running the water over his toothbrush, starting the shower, and taking his medication. The chest scars from his surgery were giving Adama pain. Cottle prescribed some pain pills for him with the warning that there were not that many left. Guess that’s not a problem anymore, he thought as he started brushing his teeth.

Several of the reports he read last night dealt with news from Lee’s mission on Earth. Things were going well; Lee was in daily meeting with different representatives from the major powers on Earth. Conference calls between him, Bill, Laura and the Quorum occurred every few hours. They had finished working out the details of humanitarian aid for the civilians. Adama was going to meet with Helo in about an hour to review his plan for receiving the shipments. Coming with these shipments would be the first visitors from Earth. Doctors and military representatives form different countries were scheduled to begin visiting Galactica. Laura was hoping some of the food, new clothes, and medicine coming from Earth would end some of the unrest in the Fleet.

So far there had been mostly organized protests. Baltar’s little group caused most of them on Galactica. Others in different ships were caused by a mix of groups. The captains of Hitte Kan and Monarch were threatening to suspend their services to the Fleet if they didn’t get a chance to get their crews some well earned rest. A little heart to heart with Colonel Tigh had gotten them to shut up for now. Only one real incident had been problematic. One of the smaller ships had nearly had a hijacking. A group of civilians stormed the bridge with weapons demanding the captain bring them down to Earth. The ship broke formation and began to head towards the planet. Adama had quickly ordered the CAP to isolate the ship. It worked after one of the Vipers fired some warning shots off her bow. Marines then went in and arrested the hijackers.

Except for the hijacking Bill didn’t blame the people for having complaints. After all this time they finally had reached Earth, they wanted off the merry-go round. Part of him felt like they did, frak it let’s just get down there and enjoy the feel of it. However he knew that wasn’t possible not just yet. First off they needed somewhere to go that would allow people to get use to be planet side again. Also it had to be large enough to accommodate 30,600 people. Since most of those spots were taken below a deal needed to be reached with one of the owners, the nations of Earth. Based on the last time Lee and they had talked it would most likely be somewhere controlled by the United States.

Standing in the shower Adama thought about the planet below. He had enjoyed his brief visits to New Caprica. Earth had a much better climate then New Caprica; he was looking forward to it getting down on the dirt taking a feel of it, a fist full of Earth. Rinsing his hair with the water as best he could (his shampoo ran out two months earlier) Bill knew he would only be able to enjoy a short vacation. Earth needed to upgrade and fast.

They were behind in everything related to space flight, according to Baltar. They still relied on big heavy chemical rockets. Although they had a giant satellite network they had no means of achieving orbit cheaply. That’s what we change first, Adama had decided. Shuttles, Raptors, some of the civilian ships that could be retrofitted would be able to lift huge amounts into orbit for them. Laura even figured they could charge for the service and find plenty of buyers. Adama left the economics to the civilians all he cared about was getting Earth in space and fast. He already had a few of the pilots and crew doing research in the materials that would have been part of Galactica’s museum. By time he began meeting with the different military leaders below, Adama wanted to present them with some plans.

Finished with his shower and now drying off, Adama quickly got dressed. As he was putting his uniform on there was a knock at his hatch.

“Come in.” he called.

Tigh opened the door and walked right in, “Morning Admiral.”

“Same to you Saul, what’s the word?”

Tigh carried a clipboard with all the stuff he had flagged for the Admiral’s attention. Gaeta originally had handed Tigh a pile that was twice as big. Like a good XO he weeded out what didn’t need to be dealt with, answered what he could, and then left only the bare essentials for the Admiral. He always started with the most important item, the ship’s war fighting ability, “Six birds down for maintenance today, four Vipers, one Raptor, and a refueler. Laird says he can have half of them up by this afternoon. However the Raptor is being a bitch, Laird said it has a software problem in the nav gear.”

“Got it, make a note for me to see Specialist Tyrol later.” Adama acknowledged then added.

“Thinking of giving him his job back?”

Adama sighed, “He always has been a good deck chief.”

“Well we might need to fight with the Basestar to keep him. Seems he’s been over there more than here, an unofficial deck chief for the Rebels.” Tigh explained.

“If he wants off the ship he just has to ask.” Adama stated.

“Anyway Mr. Gaeta says DRADIS needs to be taken offline soon for some serious work. We can rely on the Basestar and their sensors take but...”

Bill knew where he was going, “Increase the number of Raptor patrols in the system.”

Tigh nodded. Neither he nor Bill wanted to rely just on the Cylons for warning of an attack, “Last thing is Dogville had another act of disobedience last night. Seems they want to get to Earth so bad they had a sit in front of the munitions bay. We couldn’t transfer ammo for an hour while the Marines took people into custody.”

“Bring the Mayor down here. She and I need to have a talk about protests on a warship.” Adama said taking a seat at his little table, “We ready for our guests?”

“Got most of the worst stuff covered, CIC is looking good, we should impress them.” Tigh replied. He had ordered crews to work through the night to make Galactica look as presentable as possible before the 13th Tribe’s people came aboard.

The Admiral sighed, “Good. The rest of that can wait, grab a seat and let’s enjoy this.”

Tigh took his seat and asked, “So this is the last of our coffee?”

Adama took a pot and poured his friend a glass, “Yes. I’ve told Lee to get some more right behind Cottle’s cigarettes.” He then poured himself a cup.

Lifting it up, he toasted, “To the last of the Caprican Coast Coffee, we shall miss you.”

Tigh and Adama clicked their cups together completing the toast. Then both began to drink. Tigh after a sip asked, “How is Earth coffee?”

Adama cracked a smile, “Lee says it’s pretty good. Do you want to know what company sells tons of it down there?” Tigh indicated that he did, Adama began to chuckle, “Starbucks.”

“Oh my Gods.” Tigh managed to get out before he was laughing his ass off as well.

Colonial One

The press seemed to be in a more peaceful mood than usual. They only asked her twenty times about when the Fleet was going to Earth than the hundred they usually did since the Fleet had arrived. Probably because they were more interested in the fact the first visitors from Earth were coming to the Fleet.

Playa Palacios one of the few remaining reporters who had been one before the fall of the Colonies was asking her, “Madam President why are the guests from Earth only touring the Galactica?”

“Well Playa we are still working out the biological and other medical concerns. Once we can confirm that our two peoples can interact without making each other sick then we will see about visits to other ships.” Laura answered, “Also Galactica has the only sophisticated medical facility left. That’s where Dr. Cottle and the physicians from Earth will be meeting to address the Fleet’s needs.” She picked another reporter, this one who had become one in the wake of the attacks.

“President Roslin, how many officials from the Thirteenth Tribe are coming to the Fleet?”

“Several. Some military and civilians leaders, including the medical officials, thank you that will be all for today.” Laura finished.

Laura turned away from the dozens of question shouted even though she had just finished taking questions. Entering her office area after a short walk her new aide said, “Admiral Adama would like you to return his call.”

“Thank you Jim, could you please get the notes from the last Quorum meeting.” She asked taking her seat. He nodded and walked out of the room.

Laura picked up her phone and asked the communication officer up in the cockpit to put her through to Galactica. When connected she got Lt. Dualla who then transferred her over to Bill in his cabin, “Hello.”

“Hi.” She answered, “I just got done facing the lions.”

“I heard on the wireless, you sounded good.” He said giving her some support.

“Thanks. Are we all ready for our visitors?” Laura asked.

Adama took a minute to respond, “Sorry been reviewing Helo’s plan. Yeah the crews are all briefed, Tigh has whipped everyone into shape, and I managed to find a fairly clean uniform, how about you?”

Laura smiled imagining Tigh’s version of motivation and Adama going through his closet, “Yes. I’ll take a Raptor over in an hour.”

“Good. How are you feeling?” he ventured.

Laura instantly thought of her hair. Her wig was on but for some reason she removed it. Looking at it she answered, “A little woozy. Cottle’s getting me back on schedule for Deloxin.”

“Earth might have some different ways to tackle this. After we get down there we need to look into it.” Bill said quietly.

He doesn’t want to face it, she knew. Laura spoke softly, “I’m the dying leader Bill. My job is done.”

Adama got angry, “Frak Pythia or any of that bullshit. Back when you and I started the odds were that we wouldn’t last a week. Now look at us, we found the map on Kobol, survived New Caprica, and even made an alliance with the Cylons! Frak prophesy Laura, you are going to beat the odds too.”

She was starting to cry. He’s a soldier always fighting, he doesn’t want to let go, Laura thought. It made her smile, he’s so frakking stubborn and that’s why I love him. “Is that an order Admiral?” she asked.

“Damn right it is Madam President.”

“Alright we’ll talk more about it later. I’ll see you soon.” Laura added.

“See you soon.” He answered in a low soft voice. The line clicked off.

Laura sighed and put her wig back on. Making sure it was decent in a small mirror on her desk she was finished adjusting it by time Jim got back in.

Nellis Air Force Base
Las Vegas, Nevada

Jack wanted to go back inside but couldn’t, not without wimping out. He wasn’t use to hot climates. Born in New Jersey, Robertson could handle nor’easters and blizzards without a sweat. Hot weather though always seemed to get to him. The dry air was leaving him feeling dehydrated. He took another swig from the once cold now room temperature water in his hand.

“Tough it up Jack, don’t want to seem like a wimp in front of our ride do you?” Emerson laughed. He was more than comfortable in the heat unlike the White House man. Robertson, staring at the general that had probably more than enough experience with desert climates from all the time he spent in Iraq.

The National Security Advisor and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs were waiting with the first of the aid shipments that would be going up to the Colonial Fleet. They along with a few other select people from the major powers would be going up with the supplies to visit the Galactica. The General had elected to wait out with the crews. Jack not wanting to be left out or seem like he was nervous followed Emerson out there.

“When are they coming?” Jack asked.

“1200 hours, any minute now.” Emerson replied. He was looking forward to this. The last time Emerson had done anything like this was back during the Cold War. As things thawed in the eighties, NATO officers were allowed to visit their Soviet counterparts. It had been a rush to see the equipment Emerson and his fellow soldiers were expected to fight against and Soviet doctrine at work first hand. Now he got see an entirely new type of force, a military unit designed to fight in space.

“General. AWACS has them coming down. F-15s are waiting to escort them down.” An aide reported from a Hummer parked not too far away. Some troops from the Air Force security team were deployed with the supply station.

He nodded and looked skywards even though the general knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything for several minutes. Already an E-3 was tracking the Colonial Vipers and Raptors, along with a group of shuttles to carry up supplies. Soon they would meet with a flight of F-15Cs. Emerson wasn’t worried about hostile action anymore; he was more concerned about the media.

In the days following the Colonial arrival, the press had devoted 24/7 coverage to the event. First it was the vague information and bull-shiting from the networks. They had no real information so they brought on their so called ‘experts’. Some were better than others but most didn’t have a clue as to what was actually happening. Press conferences by the President, different levels of government, other nations gave more information. When it became clear the new arrivals in orbit hadn’t done anything threatening, people began to calm down. As more information began to leak, the media speculated on the movements of the Atlantic 2nd Fleet and whether it was related to the aliens. Eventually the rumors got good enough to suggest the Colonials were out on the carrier.

The Russians in preparation with the Chinese to negotiate their way into talks had leaked information. All of it suggested that the U.S. was trying to make a one sided deal with the aliens. However after learning about the threat the Cylons posed, the two countries abandoned their original plan and stopped the links. Now they had agreed to work with the U.S. to control information. After hammering out the details between the various countries that had been brought in on the full story, the President had a joint press conference with the ambassadors of the cooperating nations.

In the conference, she told everyone the basics of the Colonial story, that the ships were full of humans and that they needed a home. The full news of the Cylons and the threat they posed was being kept under wraps for the moment. No one wanted to start a panic. Even now discussions were occurring on how best to deal with the threat posed by the Loyalist Cylons. Till some rough idea was brought forward, the news would be classified.

The aid shipments and agreement were public knowledge. At several bases in Europe, Russia, China, and the U.S. relief aide had been collected. Colonial ships would come down to load it. Although they had managed to keep the media off the bases, they had decided to surround each base with cameras and reporters. There had also been some talk that the major networks were going to rent private jets and fly into the airspace to try and get pictures, hence the F-15s. Nothing like a jet fighter loaded with missiles to make you back off, Emerson thought with a smile. Of course the media issue was only an American and European problem. The Russians and Chinese had of course strict press controls.

“When is the transport in from Andrews?” Robertson asked breaking Emerson’s thoughts.

“1230. They’ll be here soon.” The chairman answered. It was decided that the Colonials would be bringing back one of their officers, Captain Kara Thrace and the Marines sent down for security. The Rebel Cylons wanted Claire Eight to report to them so she would be going back on the supply trip as well.

“General Emerson. Razorback reports they have the Colonial ships, ETA ten minutes.” The aide called in with an update, the F-15 squadron had found the Colonials.

“Great, tell the tower to bring them in.”

Raptor 545

Racetrack wished she could talk to the American pilots over the wireless. However she didn’t have the language skills and the Rebel Cylon communicating with the ground and fighters hadn’t been paired with them for the mission. They were all riding in their Heavy Raiders. Captain Agathon, Helo was sitting next to her, “Relax Racetrack you’ll have plenty of time to get to know them. Remember we are going to settle here.”

“Yeah I know but frak me, I have to learn a whole new language?”

Helo smiled, “The price you pay to fraternize with the locals.”

The F-15s were leading them to what Athena had told him yesterday was Nellis Air Force Base. A massive facility used by the American Air Force for training, war-games, and testing. He could clearly see it on the Raptor’s cameras. A Leoben model in one of the Heavy Raiders flying with the formation playing the role of translator called Helo letting them know that it was time to begin their final descent.

“Alright Racetrack let’s bring her down, nothing too fancy. Remember we got those shuttles behind us.” Helo ordered.

Following the Raptor was additional two for transport of the Earth guests. Behind them were six large shuttles that would take supplies up to the Fleet. Four Vipers were riding shotgun and the two Heavy Raiders. It was quite the procession. Karl watched as the ground was coming closer. He smiled. From what Athena had told him, the United States was an interesting place. Karl wondered how long it would be before his family could find somewhere down there to live.

Snapping back to the present he listened as Racetrack called out their altitude. Helo saw the cargo pallets and tons of supplies gathered one end of the huge complex. Some people were watching as they came in.

“All eyes are on us Racetrack, make it look good.” He said.

“Got it, here we go.” She answered.

The Raptor fired its belly thrusters, slowing as it came down. Behind them the Vipers slowed and began to circle the perimeter of the base. Cameramen from dozens of different networks and shows fought to get good looks at the fighters as they did their lazy circles overhead. Some kept their cameras on the larger shuttles as they came down. Most lost views of the ships as they went behind buildings.

Emerson whistled as the big bulky shuttles came down. The Raptors were impressive along with the Vipers further off in the distance. Robertson just shook his head, can’t believe they were flying so easily. Must be some sort of anti-grav technology or those engines are way more powerful than anything we’ve thought of, he pondered his intelligence mind trying to figure it all out.

Helo’s Raptor touched down with the other two. Emerson then got to look at the Cylon Heavy Raiders. He knew these were the model that had been involved in the accident with the Chinese. Now he understood why the PLAAF pilots might have felt threatened. First off the damn thing had a head. A red glowing eye moved back and forth across a black strip. Six cannons probably 25mm or 30mm jutted out of its front. For whatever reason Emerson thought of the burly Russian Hind attack helicopters when he saw the Heavy Raider. Like the Russian bird had in his youth, this thing gave him the creeps.

The Colonials and Cylons began to disembark. Turning to Robertson he said, “Guess that’s our cue.”

The two men with a small security force walked over to the Colonial commander. Captain Karl Agathon they had been told. He was married to the Colonial Cylon who had been working with them since communications had been opened. One of the Cylons a man walked over. He joined Captain Agathon and another pilot. Finally standing next to them Emerson started, “Welcome to Nellis Air Force Base. I’m General George Emerson, Chairman of the United States Joint Chiefs of Staff. This is Jack Robertson President Hayes’s National Security Advisor.”

Emerson watched as the Cylon a model Two as he understood it translated. Captain Agathon straightened up and snapped off a salute. The American general returned it and automatically replied, “At ease.”

“This is Captain Karl Agathon and Lieutenant Margaret Edmondson. You can call me Henry.” The Two added giving a name.

Robertson stepped forward and shook hands with everyone, “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

Helo asked a question to Henry who nodded, “Captain Agathon would like to know if we can start loading the supplies and whether Captain Thrace has arrived.”

Emerson answered, “Captain Thrace’s flight is inbound now. She should arrive in the next half hour. We can begin loading your ships now if you wish.” Helo got the translation and acknowledged he did.

The Colonials, Cylons, and Air Force people got to work. Using the Cylons as translators the Colonials indicated what should be loaded and where. Four of the shuttles had ramps which they lowered making loading easier. Forklifts, pallet movers, and other vehicles were able to drive right up into the shuttle and load the supplies. The other two older models had no ramps. Cargo needed to be loaded viva a human conveyor belt. While the loading occurred, Emerson, Robertson and the others got to look over the ships.

Henry speaking for Racetrack and Helo answered as many questions as they could. While Emerson represented the U.S. Military, there was a Russian Air Force Colonel, PLA Major, RAF Colonel and his Luftwaffe counterpart, and a French officer who Emerson figured was Special Forces. Except for the Frenchmen the others were all military liaisons from their country’s embassies. The other part of the group going up, the doctors were checking their equipment and supplies not interested in the space ships (but still stealing the occasionally glance). All they needed now was Captain Thrace and her men.

VC-20
Over Nevada

Starbuck had never eaten so well in years. She didn’t count the meals she had while locked up with Leoben. After making sure they wouldn’t kill themselves eating anything from Earth, the doctors slowly increased their food intake. Finally she was able to eat something without fear of it overwhelming her system. The lunch they served on board the private jet was wonderful. A steak sandwich with grilled onions and fired strips of potato they called French Fries. It was fantastic. The two Marines with her had to use Claire to ask for more of the potatoes. It had amazed Starbuck on how so much of their food was similar but also different.

Kara was feeling a little depressed to be going back. After three years of war she had finally gotten a real break. It was a vacation she wasn’t ready to end. However it would be nice to get back and see the Old Man and the bucket.

“Ready to go back?” the Eight asked her.

Starbuck leaned back enjoying the leather of her seat, “Almost just wish it would last a little bit longer.”

Claire smiled, “Yes this world is nice.” She was convinced more than ever that Earth could be somewhere the Cylons could live in peace with these humans. Now it was time to start thinking about what needed to be done to ensure that.

Kara closed her eyes and thought about the future as well. Unlike New Caprica she would not be leaving the Fleet this time. Earth couldn’t afford her taking time off; it couldn’t afford the any of the crew of Galactica taking time off. Cavil’s forces were still out there. Earth needed to build up its capabilities and fast. She had already spoken with the Admiral one what needed to be done. Starbuck used some of them time on the plane to work on some long term recommendations based on what she had learned about the planet’s armed forces.

First off they needed to start making Vipers. She wasn’t an engineer and didn’t know how hard it would be to start making the airframes, materials, or electronics that made the aerospace fighters work. However the nations on this planet had large aerospace industries. At the very least they were very experienced in building high-tech aircraft. She figured a Viper based on either the Mark II or VII could be readied in a year or two. Kara knew that more would be needed. There was no guarantee that they would get that much time. So she worked on some very quick and dirty ideas as well. The Admiral would have his own ideas she knew.

The plane’s captain made an announcement, Claire translated it for her, “We are getting ready to land.”

“Finally.” Starbuck sighed. She wasn’t use to flying without herself at the controls for so long. Hops between the ships in the fleet took minutes not hours. Eagerly she awaited the end of the flight.

.........................

It was the first time Kara had stood outside in harsh light and heat since the Algae Planet. She wished for her sunglasses which were in somebody else’s hands on board Galactica following the pilot auction after her ‘death’. It was actually the first time in days she has wondered about that. Her resurrection was still as much of a mystery to her as it was to everyone else. What little time she was giving to think about it ended as Helo came over.

“It’s good to see you.” He said giving her a salute then a hug.

She rolled her eyes, “Alright I’ve only been gone a frakkin week. Gods Helo what’s going to happen when you finally see your wife again, jump her right there on the flight deck?”

Karl gave her a smart-ass look that suggested he might. Kara laughed and followed him away from the American aircraft. Claire and the Marines followed behind. One of the Cylons had walked up to the Eight and was already in a discussion.

“How is the loading going?” Kara asked.

“Great we’ll be loaded in another twenty minutes.” Helo answered, “Just a heads up that guy over there is the top American military man.”

They were approaching Emerson and Robertson. She could tell Emerson was brass thanks to all those medals. Plus he reminder her a bit of the old man, the silver hair, weathered face, he carried the look of a man who had been a soldier his whole life. When they were up close Kara stood straight and saluted.

“At ease Captain.” Emerson answered returning the salute as the Two, Henry translated. She then shook hands with the civilian Robertson.

“Since everyone is here are we ready to head up to the Fleet?” Helo asked the group.

Emerson and Robertson indicated they were. Starbuck nodded too and helped Helo check on the loading progress. Three shuttles were fully loaded. Medical personnel had been put on one with their equipment and were ready to go. The Cylons would stay behind with one of the Raptors and escort the other shuttles back to Galactica when they finished taking on their cargo. Starbuck and Helo escorted their guests to the two Raptors that would take them up. The international group got in the second Raptor while Emerson and Robertson joined Kara, Helo, and Claire in Racetrack’s bird.

The general and former intelligence analyst took in everything inside the Colonial ship. Electronics covered the walls with some web seats similar to what one would find on an Air Force C-130 for passengers. The cockpit was small with controls between Helo and the pilot Racetrack. Emerson watched as Captain Thrace took a seat in what he assumed was the Electronic Warfare Officer or Weapons Officer station in the back with him. She called on their radio speaking in the odd Greek Latin mix.

Claire the Rebel Cylon informed them they were getting ready to lift off so they should hang on. A roar from the engines lighting up confirmed that fact. Robertson watched as Racetrack pulled back on her stick, which caused the Raptor to lift off the ground. Both men were experienced helicopter riders but the take off by the Colonial attack bird was different. Jack thought it was faster, more nimble, he wondered if it was due to the anti-grav tech he suspected they had.

Emerson stared out the huge cockpit windows. The sky was rapidly passing them by. He got to see two of the Colonial Vipers as the shot pass the Raptors heading for space. Their size was quite deceptive. Inside that small fighter was a fast and maneuverable plane, although he thought the F-22 had cleaner lines.

“We’re about to enter orbit. I assume neither of you have done that before?” Claire asked.

Both men shook their heads in the negative. Jack watched as the blue sky retreated, blackness began to replace it. Then finally there was no more sky, just the blackness of space, blackness that was now filled with stars. Racetrack made another correction to the Raptor’s flight. They pitched down and got the sight of their lives, Earth from low orbit.

“My god...” Jack said aloud his mouth hanging open.

Emerson said nothing, too captivated by the sight. He had seen pictures of his home planet from space but the real thing blew them all away. Starbuck watched as the two men shared the same expression a child from the Colonies did the first time they went into space. She sighed, wishing that feeling still existed for her.

“Galactica, Raptor 545 coming in with the first of the supply run and our guests.” Helo called their home.

Lt. Hoshi in CIC responded, “We have you Raptor 545, contact the LSO and come on home.”

While Helo and Racetrack got ready for the landing, Emerson and Robertson got their first look at the Colonial Fleet with their own eyes. Jack’s first thought was wow. He had seen images of the Battlestar Galactica for over a week, but nothing prepared him for the size of the thing up close. The Raptor was tiny compared to massive warship. While Jack was impressed with the size, Emerson noted the battle damage on the hull. This ship has been through hell and back, he thought, every scar, blast damage, missing gun a sign of their struggle with the Cylons.

Racetrack lined them up for the landing, heading for the Port Flight Pod. Robertson got to see some of the other ships in the Fleet. Many he could tell were civilian vessels with their clean lines and airliner like markings. Some of the ships were bulky flying industrial parks, like someone had taken a chemical plant and given in engines. To the rear of the Colonial Fleet he could spot the Rebel Basestar. It was damaged like Galactica but still looked impressive. According to the briefings he had read it was repairing itself, growing new parts.

“Alright we’re on the final approach, hang on.” Claire warned.

Racetrack was coming carefully guiding the controls, making small corrections as they headed down to the runway. Emerson wondered how they would land if it would at all be similar to carrier landings. It was in that the event was violent and loud. With a bang they hit the runway. The screech from the landing skids rang through the hull. Quickly they slowed.

Robertson who had never been on a carrier of any type before tried to regain his wits after landing, “You always do it like that? Why not dock.”

“Combat landing, no time for a slow docking in a shooting situation, correct?” he asked the Eight. Claire nodded. They moved over to one of the elevators that would lower them into the hull.
..........................

Admiral Adama, Colonel Tigh, President Roslin, and Vice-President Tom Zarek and small squad of Marines for honor duty waited as the Raptor carrying their visitors was pulled forward. Chief of the Deck, Laird supervised the moving of the two Raptors carrying their guests. Afterward he would move on to help with the cargo unloading from the shuttles further down the hanger deck. Adama and Tigh had put on their dress uniforms. Laura had gotten a new suit from somewhere, probably borrowed the Admiral decided. Zarek who had demanded he be part of the greeting party was also well dressed. The Marines were in their standard gear but all of it freshly polished and cleaned. Further back were some Cylons. They were waiting to act as translators.

“Here they come, figured out what you’re going to say?” Adama whispered to Roslin.

She smiled, “No, I’ll think of something.”

The Raptors slid to a halt on the hanger deck. They moved their group over and waited for the hatch on the side of the ships to open. Groans from the door of Racetrack’s bird echoed out as it lifted up. Standing already as it lifted was Starbuck. She stepped out and indicated for her guests to follow. Adama easily could have figured out the first man was General Emerson. His green uniform, medals, and stance gave it away. Upon first impression Bill was impressed. He looked like his kind of soldier. The second one was a civilian but looked clever. Already he was trying to look everywhere without being rude. Adama could see his mind was trying to figure what everything around them was for or did.

From the second Raptor came a group of other officers. They were from the major powers from Earth. All wore different uniforms and not all of them looked like they had seen action to Adama. Except for the uniforms they didn’t look at that different from collections of people you would have seen in the Fleet. Helo, Racetrack, and the Eight were last to step out of the Raptor. Claire began to introduce the people from Earth. Laura shook their hands often saying, “Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

President Roslin shook everyone’s hands and welcomed Robertson and Emerson last, “Welcome it’s so good to final meet both of you.”

She stepped back letting Adama come forward. As they passed he spoke so softly only she heard, “I could have frakkin done that.” She smiled and worked to hold back a laugh.

“All hands recognize General Walter Emerson and the military liaisons of Earth.” He called out. The Marines snapped salutes along with the Colonel and any deckhands in earshot. Emerson and the other military men returned the salutes. Adama continued, “The crew of the Battlestar Galactica welcomes you all and is honored to have you aboard.”

Emerson replied for the group viva Claire, “Thank you Admiral Adama. It is an honor to be here on board your ship.”

“Thank you, this is Colonel Tigh my executive officer.” Adama indicated. Emerson took Tigh’s hand. He noticed the eye-patch and that the Colonel seemed even more hardened than Adama. Of course he also knew some of the back story behind Galactica’s second in command. Tigh was one of the ‘Final Five’ Cylons the Rebels held in high regard. It said something about the man that he still wore a Colonial Fleet uniform, and that Adama fully accepted him as an XO.

“If you would like General, we can give you the full tour. Captain Thrace can also show you some of our equipment if you would prefer that.” Adama said.

Emerson answered speaking to Claire first, “I would be grateful for a tour of the ship Admiral.” Turning he looked at the most senior officer of the foreign representatives, “Colonel Blair?”

“If you wouldn’t mind sir, I’m very eager to see the Colonial ships, Colonel Olav?” the RAF officer asked his Russian counterpart.

“Da, I would like to see these Vipers up close.” The Russian Frontal Aviation officer answered. Claire put forward the request to Adama.

“Starbuck pick a Cylon from our volunteer group over there to go with you. Some of our guests would like to see the Air Wing up close.” He ordered. She responded with a ‘Gotcha Boss’ moving to the small group of Cylons behind them. The Earth officers followed her.

Laura smiling turned to Bill and said, “Should we begin?”

He nodded, “Let’s. General Emerson, Mr. Robertson if you would come with us.”

The White House
Washington D.C.

President Hayes and her staff were sitting in the Oval Office conducting a series of all day back to back meetings. Her entire time since the news of the Arrival was consumed by dealing with the ramifications of the Colonial Fleet’s appearance. The only breaks Hayes had managed to acquire were food, brief short periods of sleep, and responding to a series of Tornadoes that had torn up a Kansas town. Allison was fidgeting in her seat, trying to stay focus. The first of today’s meetings had started at 7:00 with an intelligence one. Now she was onto Settlement.

The core of her staff was in on this one. Chief of Staff, Deputy COS, Communications Director, White House Council, and two of her best speech writers. From the government there was the Director of the CIA, Deputy-Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, UN Ambassador, Secretary Baker, and finally someone from Homeland Security.

“They can’t go to Europe Bob.” The Director of CIA said to her Deputy COS, “There are enough ethnic and racial issues without putting a bunch of completely new people in the mix.”

Her young staffer wouldn’t give up, a trait that comes from fighting with Congress, “Director I’m not saying we stick them on the continent, but maybe one of the Mediterranean islands, their culture wouldn’t be too out of place there.”

“I not a fan of it, the Med is basically a crossroads to Europe, Africa, Central Asia. Even if the Greeks or someone else gave up an island for them, they would vulnerable out there.” The intelligence man answered.

Admiral Dixon, second to General Emerson had another point, “We also need to think about infrastructure. To prepare ourselves for a possible Cylon attack we need to get geared up for space warfare quickly. There would be no real support base to set up any industrial resources they might have on the island choices in the Mediterranean. They’d be completely dependent on shipping for resources, leaving them vulnerable.”

“From whom?” the communication director asked, “Libya is playing nice, the Egyptians are an ally along with Greece and Turkey. Whose navy is going to threaten the Colonials and get past any force of ships we set up to defend them?”

“It doesn’t always take a warship Toby.” Dixon answered, “It could be some jihadist on a Jet Ski or sports boat loading with C4 or something worst.

Hayes frowned. The War on Terror was not over. Even though the U.S. had toned down the rhetoric to try and cool things down and Iraq was working out for the most part, the war continued. It was far less public, only Afghanistan getting coverage. The war had found its proper place, with intelligence agencies and Special Forces units. Quietly they eliminated terror groups and their suppliers. That of course still didn’t stop the bombing of different places around the world.

“The Admiral has a point.” Leo her Chief of Staff said, “The Arab street hasn’t decided where to go on the issue. Once more of the details become public, I’m worried about how the nut-jobs down there are going to react.”

Hayes rubbed her eyes thinking about that. Some of the governments had tried to keep a lid on the news. However Al-Jazeera picked up the story as the BBC reported it, and began broadcasting it. It seemed the Middle East had no real idea how to react to the Colonials so they settled on a mix of acceptance and outrage. Acceptance came from some Arab leaders but others were deciding it was another issue they could berate the Great Satan with.

Iran was demanding the United States remove itself from the process of dealing with the visitors. Not only could the U.S. not be trusted their President proclaimed but it was keeping out two thirds of the world. Where was the Iranian representative standing with President Hayes, where was someone from a Muslim country, they asked. Already some jihadsit terrorists’ websites were proclaiming that the new comers swear their allegiance to Allah or suffer the consequences. Some radical Islamic leaders claimed this was all a hoax. That soon the Americans, Russians, and Chinese would attack the Middle East to steal all their land and oil.

“Leo’s right, as soon as their religious and historical beliefs come to light we are going to have trouble, and not just with the whackos in Iran, Afghanistan, and elsewhere.” The American UN Ambassador added, “God only knows what the Religious Right here will say about it.”

Allison sighed, “Let’s not forget the Cylons. Once that news gets out we’ll have people wishing to get rid of them.”

“We can’t let this distract us.” The Communications Director said, “I know this stuff is important but we need to give these people an idea of where they can go. From what Lee Adama has been telling us those people want to land. If we hold things up too long, they might decide to settle the issue themselves. Madam President either we pick a spot for them to stay for the short term, or a permanent solution.”

Deputy COS jumped on that one, “Well we have gotten positive responses from Russia, Australia, Europe although it seems that’s no one’s favorite, even over there. My office must have taken calls from a dozen governors offering room in their states with another dozen calling in to say there's no way in hell they will take them in.”

“The Agency is a fan of letting them come here.” CIA said.

UN shook his head, “Yeah, and then the rest of the world will complain we are trying to seize all their technology for ourselves. Even the nations we’ve brought in on this will have second thoughts. It’s already happening with the countries we haven’t brought into the inner circle.”

He referred to of course Venezuela’s loveable dictator, Hugo Chavez. Already the wanna-be-Castro was raising all kinds of hell down south. He complained that the U.S. was working to ensure it could rule the world. Not even Russia and China were safe from his tirade, as he called them sell outs to the Americans. CIA had told her this morning some of the complaints from Chavez steamed from the fact that the Russians and Chinese left him out of the loop. Iran was already trying to work with Venezuela according to CIA to promote a united front to the ‘American Conspiracy’. For a moment Hayes wondered if those two idiots actually believed the crap that flowed from their mouths.

“At the very least Director, I’m sure the U.S. is going to be a focal point of R&D.” Allison offered, addressing why CIA liked the idea of them settling them here, “This settlement questions will not be easy. Plus we can’t forget about what the Cylons and Colonials will want. They are a nation and their views must be respected.”

Baker decided to get back on a productive track, “How about we focus on where they can go for the short term. According to Mr. Adama and our own experts they need to get acclimated to the planet. We need somewhere remote and isolated but can hold 30,000 to 40,000 people comfortably.”

President Hayes gave her SECDEF a wink thanking him for the topic change, “Agreed. And we have already discussed this slightly with the other powers. They’ve agreed a U.S. controlled area is most appropriate for now.” Plus she knew they were all happy to stick the costs of a massive humanitarian effort on the U.S. rather than themselves.

Dixon spoke, “Well there are a number of areas that could be used. One requirement must be an adequate air base. One that can take their ships they plan on landing, and our cargo flights to fly in the needed supplies. A few places come to mind.”

Baker followed up, “Some of our bases in the west would fit the bill. Pretty isolated with good runways and then we could support those bases with ground resupply.”

The woman from Homeland Security decided to enter the fray, “I would advise against that sir.”

Baker asked why. The woman continued, “We have tested a number of diseases between us and the Colonials. That worked when we are dealing with small groups. However we would be bringing the general population down here. In case there is something we missed, do you want it to bring it into the continental U.S.?”

Hayes appreciated her point, “That is something to think about. Alright just to be safe we rule out CONUS, where does that leave us Secretary, Admiral?”

Dixon who used to be in charge of Pacific Command remembered a long held U.S. procession, “There is Guam. We have Andersen Air Force Base there. It was built to take B-52s. It can even serve as an alternate landing site for the Shuttle. Right now Global Strike Command has a squadron each of B-1s and B-52s there to keep North Korea, India, and Pakistan in check. We can move out those assets and begin preparing to receive the Colonials. There is also our port and other bases there, easy to defend too.”

Baker liked the plan but found one problem, “There are a bunch of people on Guam, I think 100,000 plus. We didn’t want to threaten CONUS, but we are willing to risk a biological contamination on them?”

“We could offer to evacuate them, compensate anyone who wants to leave.” Her Chief of Staff offered, “It would be a bitch but it could be done.”

Dixon agreed, “We’d gobble up a lot of air and sea power but we could evac the entire island if necessary.”

“Alright we can go with that. Let’s get that information out to Secretary Keller at Foggy Bottom.” President Hayes instructed. At least they had figured out something. Of course they needed to see what the Colonials would say. Her Secretary of State was at the State Department headquarters with the ambassadors from the major powers. They were working on details of a Colonial-Earth Summit that would be held to settle lots of the major issues.

There was a knock at the door. One of the wallflower aids opened it revealing Secretary Keller, “Madam President. I bring good news from the front.”

Hayes smiled, “Progress I hope?”

Julie smiled, “We have a summit agreement, even managed to pick a spot.”

Baker surprised asked, “Where?”

Keller took a seat, “Geneva. The Russians, Chinese, Europeans, everyone is happy with that. The Swiss have agreed to take over control of the local airport so we can get the Colonials in.” At time honored spot for its neutrality, Geneva would be somewhere everyone could work on familiar ground. The major Cold War summits had all been held there not to mention the Swiss were very experienced at this stuff.

“Great, now that we are making some progress.” Hayes exclaimed feeling upbeat with the renewed momentum. They moved on to how best to get Guam ready for the Colonial Pit Stop and to deal with the reaction of the civilian population of the islands.

Admiral’s Quarters
Battlestar Galactica

“This is a damn impressive ship Adama. You tell him that word for word.” Emerson ordered the blonde Cylon walking with their group. The Six did so which made Adama smile.

“Tell him I’m looking forward to seeing a ‘carrier’. From what Captain Thrace has told me it’s their equivalent to a Battlestar.”

They all entered Adama’s quarters. President Roslin was still with them although Zarek had to return for a series of meetings onboard Colonial One. Bill and Laura knew he was working to shore up his own political and barging power for the events to come. It irritated Adama slightly but he ignored it. Colonel Tigh was back in CIC supervising the ship. Robertson followed the Colonel in.

The National Security Advisor had been fairly surprised by his tour of the big warship. When got to the Combat Information Center, he had expecting the Enterprise with glowing screens and yes a view screen. The large room filled with primitive computers, radar (no DRADIS he corrected) screens, dozens of crewmen working at different stations, and the bulky old style phones had been a shocker. However it was a functional nerve center. Although some of the crew looked quite young they were professional. Even with the language barrier, he could tell Colonel Tigh didn’t take crap from anybody. The rest of the ship was practical as well, bunk rooms, airlocks; even the engine room didn’t meet the expectations of sci-fi geeks. No blue warp cores or crystal tech, just a massive long device of spinning parts and equipment that was loud.

“You’d feel at home on a carrier Admiral.” Robertson decided, “Although ours don’t feature the armor and guns yours does.”

Emerson too was surprised by the Galactica’s combination of carrier-battleship. Naval attempts to do something like that on Earth had been failures, “We don’t really need them. Most of our equipment is geared to long range missile combat. Big gunned naval vessels are museum pieces now.”

Tigh speaking through the Six said, “During the First Cylon War, the Centurions outgunned us in the electronic battlefield. We returned to guns and bullets cause they aren’t affected jamming.”

Adama took it up from there, “Plus the FTL defines a lot of our tactics. We need to get in close and fast, deal out a lot of hurt before the enemy can jump away.”

“So much for the deep space combat enthusiasts.” Emerson mumbled to himself, then returning to the conversation, “How many civilians are on board?”

Laura answered that one, “Over a thousand. After the losses we suffered over New Caprica, we had to put people on Galactica. It has been an ordeal.”

The phone in Adama’s cabin buzzed. Bill got up and answered. On the other end was Lt. Gaeta, “Sir we have a communication from the ground for General Emerson. It’s the White House.”

“Get the connection ready Mr. Gaeta.” Adama ordered and then turned to face the general, “A call for you.”

Emerson walked over and took the phone from Adama. Putting to his ear he heard some crackles and pops and the transmission switched to a secure frequency. Moments later he heard the voice of an officer from the White House Military Communications Office, “General Emerson I have Secretary of Defense Baker on the line.”

Seconds later Baker’s voice slightly distorted came through, “Walter, I’ve got some good news. We have worked out a summit deal, us the Russians, Chinese, Indians, Europeans, and others in Geneva. The when we can work out with the Colonials, I’d assume you are still with Adama and Roslin?”

“Yes sir. I am actually in Admiral Adama’s cabin.” He glanced at the two leaders to let them know the conversation was relevant to them.

“Excellent the President wants you to let them know. She would also like the schedule a call with President Roslin if that is possible.” Baker explained.

Emerson answered, “Yes sir Mr. Secretary you want to stay on the line?”

“No go ahead and get back to us. The President would also like to talk to both of you soon.”

“Roger sir.” Emerson said. The line went dead shortly after that. He turned to Adama and looked at the Six letting her know it was time to translate again, “The major powers have reached an agreement to have a summit. It’s hoped we can work out where you can settle during this along with other issues.”

Laura beamed, “Thank the Gods.”

Adama grunted, finally, he thought. Tigh kept his own opinions to himself. The Six was happy and now waiting for a chance to report the news to D’Anna. Robertson was surprised. He thought the process would take longer; guess the idea that there are genocidal robots out there was enough to break through some of the bull shit, he thought with a small smile.

The Admiral headed for his small bar. Pulling out a vile of Ambrosia and glasses he turned back to the group, “This calls for a celebratory drink.” He then gave a glass to each person in the room, even the Six. Pouring them each a drink, Adama then put down the bottle and lifted his own glass, “To Earth.”

Robertson added, “To the Colonials, and the Rebel Cylons.” As he said the last part Jack nodded to the Six. Everyone took a drink. Emerson thought it was good stuff, Robertson thought it was a little strong.

Hanger Deck

“So small, but she’s a pretty bird.” Colonel Blair said running his hand down the side of a Viper VI. The small group of military officers had each descended into their own little world. Colonel Olav was with a Model Six and a deck hand asking questions about the parts of an engine that lay on the deck. The French Special Forces operator was looking over a Colonial pistol interested in the idea of explosive ammunition. Most of the other Air Force types were looking at the Vipers and Raptors.

Starbuck listened as the Eight with her translated. She then answered, “Yeah they had one flaw during the initial Cylon attack. Their computer systems had been infiltrated. These babies can eat Raiders for breakfast. However they are worthless if the pilot can’t control it.”

“Not an issue with the Mark IIs though?” the Brit asked.

Kara nodded, “Yeah. She’s as nimble as a jack rabbit which means she needs a pilot who can handle that. I love these old birds.”

“Reminds of the American F-86 in a way, you’d like that one.” He added.

Starbuck let the Colonel go over the Viper. She backed away from the group thinking. There was something she wanted to look in on. It had been worrying her for a while, and the Old Man. She excused herself for a moment and walked towards the restricted part of the deck. A few minutes later she was there with it, the Viper she flew back to Galactica inside the Ionian Nebula.

Unlike the rest of Galactica’s Vipers this one was clean. Tyrol had described it as having come off the factory floor. Kara slowly approached it as if it was dangerous. In fact since they had gotten to Earth she avoided the ship as much as possible. This was the first time she had checked on it on her own.

Not too long after they parked above Earth, the Admiral was concerned that the signal they had followed to Earth might be picked up by Cavil. Even though the Viper was the only one that picked up the beacon, Adama wanted to be sure. So she had gone down there to check on it on his orders. When she climbed into the cockpit, turned the systems back on, she was shocked. It was gone.

The signal, the one that led them here, was gone completely and had been that way since they jumped over Earth. Flipping on the systems again, she looked to see if there was any sign of the signal. Again the channels were all dark. Kara sighed and leaned back into the seat. What am I? How did I come back? Where did this frakkin signal go? All of these thoughts played across her mind. She believed her density had been to bring the Fleet to Earth. But she couldn’t forget what that damn hybrid had told her, on the Rebel Baseship all that time ago.

You are the harbinger of death Kara Thrace; you will lead them all to their end.

Viper II Fan · May 3rd 2009, 3:47pm

Chapter Eight: Daybreak

Cointrin International Airport
Geneva, Switzerland

The excitement in the air was felt by everyone. All the different heads of state seemed to have a spring in their step. Even though there was important and difficult work ahead, they and President Hayes were looking forward to it much to her surprise. She had never wanted to have an exciting or a historical presidency. Hayes had only wanted to keep America safe, productive, and better then when she had started. But here she was, helping shape history with other leaders. Working in a whole new realm.

“So Allison did they glue you into your shoes?” the Prime Minster of Britain asked with a smile. She chuckled, only he would have talked to her so casually.

“William you know my staff they would not resort to using glue, they’d do something truly American, Duct Tape.” The President answered with a grin.

He laughed. They along with the other national leaders waited inside the main terminal. Outside crowds of media, national staffs, and security forces waited for the arrival of the Colonial-Cylon Delegation. The airport was shut down to regular traffic. Many of the aircraft had been cleared away as well. Secret Service, Swiss military, and the security groups for the different nations had locked down the airport. Several terrorist groups had made threats adding to the nervousness of the security teams.

“So not worried our planetary crazies are going to cause trouble?” the Prime Minster inquired.

Hayes shook her head, “No. CIA doesn’t think that any of the threats have any merit. Not enough time to put something together, and even if they did any such operation would be too rushed to not get noticed.”

He nodded, “MI Six said the same thing to me this morning. I’m more concerned about all the other nuts, the ones who don’t think were godless infidels.”

Since the news of the meeting in Geneva had been leaked then confirmed, everyone was trying to get into the country to see the Colonials. Several UFO groups had sent members to the airport trying to get access. One was in custody after he had tried to rush pass some Swiss guards. Thousands of people were around the airport itself. Curious people from over a dozen countries all of them wanting to get a look at the visitors from the stars. The path for the motorcades to the hotel everyone would be meeting in was just as heavily lined; dozens of buildings in downtown had their roofs filled with people.

“I think things will go smoothly. I’m far more worried about the conference when it begins.” Hayes was worried everything would unravel when everyone finally got together.

“I wouldn’t get to concerned.” He answered, “The technological possibilities in that Fleet are too good to pass up. As long as everyone here gets their share, I think we will get everything done that we want, including the alliance.”

Allison sighed, “It’s the only way William. None of us stand a chance if we try and go it alone. Even though we still don’t have all the information my experts are telling me it will be years before we can build anything like Galactica.”

The Prime Minster who had served in the Royal Navy and understood some of the problems of ship building added, “Most likely a decade. I mean look at normal sea going ships. We are still waiting for our two new carriers.”

“Exactly, and this Cavil won’t give us that long.” Hayes finished.

“Don’t worry Madam President; Her Majesty’s Government will do everything in its power to assist our wayward cousins, since we agree with you.” The Prime Minster smiled.

Allison relaxed some more. Thank god for special relationships, she thought.

“Ah I see the capitalists are conspiring together.” Russian President Dmitry Medvedev joked as he approached the American and British leaders.

Hayes took the bait, “Of course we are. However how can we conspire against you and then work with your Army to conquer to Middle East?”

The Russian laughed, “Only in the world of morons does that logic make sense Madam President. No I just wish to relieve the tension. I look forward to meeting President Roslin. If she is as charming as you are they might end up owning the planet.”

She laughed but wished the signal that the Colonials were coming would get here. It was time to get to work. Luckily her request was granted. Walking up to the group was the aides of each of the three nations’ leaders. Charlie pulled her aside and said, “They’re coming Madam President. Swiss Air Force is waiting for the intercept.”

“Thanks Charlie. Gentlemen, sounds like our guests have arrived.” She announced.

Medvedev nodded, “Yes. I can’t wait to see this ship. It can land on the planet, amazing.”

The Prime Minster agreed, “Too bad their carrier can’t do it. Yes there would be no room for it here at all but I would love to see it.”

“I’m sure we would all want to take a trip up there William, but let’s focus on the here and now. Otherwise we’ll miss Colonial One.” With that they joined their fellow leaders on the way out to reviewing area.

Combat Information Center
Battlestar Galactica

“Alright let’s get this show on the road. Lieutenant Hoshi, get the civvies on the line and get this procession underway.” Colonel Tigh ordered. He was standing at the center of the CIC. The Old Man was on the way to Earth to be part of the conference below. Tigh was in command with Lt. Gaeta acting as the temporary XO.

Hoshi sitting at the communication station began calling the civilian ships that would be making the journey to Earth, “Chiron you are cleared to begin your decent, Gemenon Traveler you are on deck.”

Tigh watched the DRADIS console. The first of the green civilian ship symbols began descending, heading to Earth to stop at the island called ‘Guam’. In addition to the civilian ships that could land and lift off the surface of a planet, dozens of shuttles, nearly the entire complement of the Fleet were moving people as well. Ships like Hitei Kan or Demetrius which were perpetually space faring vessels would be left with skeleton crews. After a short time period, those crews too would need to be rotated.

“Hotdog reports escort is underway. Racetrack has contact with U.S. Navy and Air Force squadrons.” Another communications tech reported as Hoshi directed the civilian ships.

“Very well, Lt. Gaeta any signs of trouble from our Cylon friends?”

Gaeta took a minute before replying. A Cylon asking questions about trusting other Cylons, that’s just great, “No sir, just the Heavy Raiders launched for the air show.”

“Good. Last thing we need is those toasters doing something on their own today and panicking someone down below.” Tigh said.

“Yes sir.” Gaeta answered focusing on the reports from the previous watch.

Tigh took another look at the DRADIS; the first group of ships was away. They were surrounded by shuttles, Raptors, and Vipers for protection and control. Plus it was designed to show off the Colonial military. As Bill had told him hours ago, we need to make clear our abilities, what we can provide to the nations down there. Hotdog had gotten his additional orders straight from Tigh that morning, “Look sharp and don’t frak this up.”

Over the Pacific the first of the civilian ships had finished their descent through the atmosphere. Hotdog and his Viper squadron were in the lead. As the pilots checked their DRADIS there were no unexpected contacts. The Raptors were already picking up the different emissions from the radar sets tracking them. Minutes later Hotdog was in contact with the Earth commanders down below.

Controlling everything from Hawaii was Pacific Command. In a new modern control center, dozens of sailors, soldiers, and airmen coordinated the different aspects to Operation Homecoming. Two carrier battlegroups, dozens of support ships, submarines, and Air Force units had to be directed in a delicate ballet. AWACS birds were tracking the procession of Colonial ships, their onboard controllers blanching at the size of them. Quickly they regained their composure and began directing the American fighter escorts.

F-35s and F/A-18s from the Abraham Lincoln secured the air space outside Guam. A squadron of F-22s transferred from the states flew out of Andersen AFB and took up their own positions. On the ground the 36th Wing prepared to receive their visitors. A non flying unit of the Air Force, the thirty-sixth was made up of medical, mechanical, and security personnel. They were backed up by Red Cross workers, CDC and Army doctors, and additional doctors and aid workers from Russia, China, Japan, and Australia. Engineers had set up hundreds of prefabricated shelters. The ground was ready.

The Vipers had linked up with their atmospheric counterparts and approached Guam. Hotdog smiled as he got a look at the island. Beaches, tropics, beautiful sky overhead oh yeah this is a fine pit stop if you ask me, the pilot thought with a grin.

“Chiron, follow our lead. The landing site is the base at the tip of the island. Once you’re overhead it’s all on you to land.” He called the lead civilian transport.

The captain of the luxury liner answered, “Roger that Hotdog, we’re in our final approach.”

On the ground the base had been pretty much cleared to make as much space available for the big civilian ships as possible. All the bombers that had been based there had been sent back to the states. Now as the first of the Colonial ships came in, the controllers in the main tower worried they wouldn’t have enough room even though they would. Chiron fired its ventral thrusters lowering itself to the main runway.

The luxury liner was over eight hundred feet long and as wide as the runway. Standing far away from the landing spacecraft Air Force and First Aid personnel watched as the legs touched down onto the runway. Onboard the Colonial ship the people cheered. The controllers didn’t have long to relish the sight of the landing because the next one was coming in.

Colonial One

“I hate protocol.” Adama grunted as they neared the airport. He was sitting in one of the plushy chairs that made up Laura’s office onboard the ship. Looking out the window he could see one of the Swiss F/A-18s flying as an escort.

Laura was making the finishing touches to her makeup. Donated by one of the civilians in the fleet it was some of the last of the Colonial beauty products left. Satisfied she looked descent enough she closed the makeup case and responded, “As much as we want to get to work Bill, we need some ceremony. I don’t want the leaders of Earth to think we are simply a horde of refugees but a legitimate government, one that deserves full protocols and respect.”

Adama got up and sighed, “I know but there is a lot of work to do any not much time to get it started. Plus there is every chance these talks could breakdown. The Colonies were unified but it still took the government forever to decide on anything. The 13th Tribe isn’t even that close together.”

Laura came over and held Adama, “Have faith Bill. We made it this far, I don’t think the Gods will let it all come apart now.” She then lost her balance, causing Adama to catch her.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked, the barest hint of fear in his voice.

Roslin took a breath, “It’s just these drugs Cottle gave me. To counteract the side effects of the last Deloxin treatment, I should be good for a while.”

Bill stroked her face, “If you need a rest...”

She straightened putting on her war face, “Admiral Adama I am more than capable of completing these talks are you?”

Seeing she was all business now Adama tightened himself and responded crisply, “Yes Madam President.”

Laura let a smile break through her Presidential face, “Then shall we?”

Offering her arm in a crook, Adama took it and walked with her to the main exit. Since the airport below didn’t have the proper docking facilities, they would have to exit viva the cargo lift in Colonial One’s belly. Together Adama and Roslin entered the large storage area and found the rest of the Colonial government waiting. The Quorum, Vice-President Zarek, some aides and branch ministers, and Colonial officers and Marines.

“Madam President we’ll be landing in a few minutes.” Zarek informed her. He came closer and whispered, “Are you sure you want them here?”

Roslin turned to observe the ‘them’ Zarek was referring too. D’Anna, Tory, and the other Rebel Cylon leaders stood across from their Colonial counterparts. All were dressed well and kept exchanging glances at the Colonials. Like boys and girls at their first school dance, there was a distance between them. It wasn’t helping that instead of Colonial Marines, the Cylon military was represented in four Centurions.

Even Adama was uncomfortable seeing the machines standing there. Like his soldiers his hand itched, wanting to grab a weapon and take them down. However the Cylon robotic warriors were standing perfectly still. They had retracted their razor sharp finger tips into duller safer ones. All four of the Centurions were brightly polished and adored with a red carefully painted stripe which ran from their left shoulders to right waist. Adama had fought against having the machines as part of their delegation. However the Cylons wanted to show off their own forces and impress the Thirteenth Tribe.

Roslin was also uncomfortable with the Centurions standing there but knew they needed them, “Tom they have agreed to alliance with us and as such deserve to be full represented. D’Anna also informed me that the Centurions themselves have an interest in the talks.” The Rebels had, at the start of the Civil War, removed the intelligence inhibitors from their Centurions. Now like their forbearers they were fully sentient and thus were very interested in the discussions. Bries didn’t say what the Centurions wanted.

“Very well mustn’t keep the Cylons unhappy.” Zarek said with distain.

Adama gave Zarek a look that suggested he should step away. The Vice-President decided to stop talking and moved back, “It’s not too late to shove him out the airlock.”

She smiled, “Probably would be the wrong impression to give our cousins.”

One of the Colonial One crewmembers was on the phone and connected to the bridge, “Right…” he turned to face the delegations, “We’re beginning our landing. Hang on.”

……………

Lee Adama stood next to Athena outside the Swiss airport’s main terminal. The leaders of the most powerful and influential nations of Earth gathered around them. Colonial One was moments away from touching down. Even though he had been on Earth for nearly two weeks, there were times he still couldn’t believe it. He stared at Sharon from a moment. How far have we come? I almost put a bullet in her head the first time we met now? She’s standing in a Colonial Fleet uniform and helped make these talks happen. Athena had nearly run herself down going through all the meetings, constantly translating, and working with the Rebels. Lee made sure to recommend her for a medal and lots of leave next time he was alone with his father.

“Delegate Adama, the moment arrives.” The President of the United States said. Sharon would not need to act as a translator for the talks. In his ear and the President’s was a small wireless device. The Rebels had produced the first models. They instantly translated the different languages for the Colonials and people of the Thirteenth Tribe. The Admiral had been dubious of them at first, only agreeing to the devices after Galacitca had checked to make sure they would translate properly.

“Madam President, an honor to finally meet you.” He answered shaking her hand. Hayes was still getting use to her device, watching as Lee’s lips moved faster than the translation in her ear. The Bluetooth like device was better than constantly relying on translators.

“Same here Mr. Adama, I’m looking forward to meeting President Roslin.”

“Colonial One will be landing shortly; in fact I can hear it now.”

Hayes looked upward towards the loud sound. Descending from the clouds was the transport that represented the heart of the Colonial government. The paint scheme was similar to Air Force One’s. She had been told it was not intentional just another of the many odd similarities they shared with their deep space cousins. The entire group looked on in awe. People camped out around the security perimeter took their snapshots.

With a final roar of Colonial One’s engines brought the spacecraft on to the ground. Allison snapped herself out of the amazement that she had watching the ship. It was time to go to work. The leaders were led forwards by the security personnel walking closer but still keeping a safe distance from the ship.

The underside of Colonial One opened and a cargo elevator began to descend to the runway. Standing on the lift was President Roslin, Admiral Adama, and the rest. A few reporters and cameramen swore on air when they saw the Centurions. Carefully the group stepped off the lift and began walking forwards to meet the leaders of Earth. Hayes had to work to keep her jaw closed as she watched the robots, robots real life fucking robots!

“My God…” the British PM whispered. The metallic clanks from the Centurions were overpowering. Security people tensed watching the robotic warriors. D’Anna saw everyone was getting a little unnerved. She turned to the Centurions and held up a hand. The machines nodded and stopped, being still as statues.

Roslin deciding to help stepped forward, “Hello, thank you all for meeting us.”

Hayes stepped forward and extended her hand, “Madam President on behalf of everyone here I welcome you to Geneva and Earth.” Roslin was wearing one of the translators like all the other Colonials. The next five minutes were spent with introductions. China, Russia, Britain, all of the leaders met and exchanged short greetings with Roslin, Zarek, Adama, the Quorum, and finally the humanoid Cylons.

Once all the introductions had been made the leadership crowd turned to observe the fly by. Swiss Hornets came first, followed by a flight of Viper VIIs. Next were the big Heavy Raiders and two of the few remaining conventional Raiders the Basestar processed. Finally a mixed flight of Heavy Raiders and Vipers both IIs and VIIs came in. The middle Viper Mark II was flown by Starbuck. Kara inside her cockpit smiled and looked down at the airport below; here we go, watch this.

Starbuck hit her breaks stopping the Viper in mid air. She then kicked the thruster peddles which fired the forward RCS system. Her plane’s nose shot upward as the Viper began a 360 degree rollover. Once she was back on course Kara fired the thrusters again and this time turned 180 degrees in a few seconds. With the display of the Viper’s abilities complete she rejoined the formation. Now the Cylon flight decided to show their abilities. Climbing high they stayed over the airport and then jumped. Several loud cracks of thunder rang over the city as the Cylon FTL worked.

“Damn.” Hayes muttered watching the jump the drive demonstration.

“That should lower the cost of getting into orbit.” The PM commented.

Bill and Laura could see that all of the Earth representatives were wowed. She smiled at Adama then to D’Anna, good job.

Les Armures Hotel
Geneva

“My Gods Bill…” Laura mumbled. She turned around the room, not since Adar’s election campaign had she stayed anywhere this plush. The Hotel Les Armures lay in Geneva’s old town. Across from the cathedra Saint Pierre the hotel was made up of a mix of 13th and 17th Century (renovated of course) buildings arranged in a square. Owned by Counts, Bishops, and wealthy families the hotel had hosted American presidents before. The entire complex would hold the Colonial and Cylon delegations. U.S. Secret Service patrolled the outside while Colonial Marines and the Red Stripes guarded the interior.

Laura had been given the ‘Prestige’ Suite. A huge bed, wooden floors, a full sized bathroom (her personnel favorite) it was wonderful. Bill stood in the middle of the suite; it had been just as long for him since he had been anywhere this nice.

“I feel like I’m spending cubits just standing here.” Adama commented.

Roslin walked into the bathroom, “You know how many times I would have killed for a full size bath on Colonial One or Galactica?”

“Good thing I didn’t keep a sidearm in my room.” He joked.

“Yes.” She said coming back out, “I don’t know if I can rest before the first meeting.”

Adama cautioned, “You should. The talks are going to be long and difficult. Cottle said you should take every opportunity you can to take a break.”

“Well there are other things we could do while waiting.” Laura suggested. Adama smiled.

…………….

D’Anna sat with the other humanoid Cylons inside the hotel’s reception area. It featured large chairs and comfortable sofas. Designed in a 17th Century fresco style it featured a large iron casted window that illuminated the room. They were all arranged around a small table which held some drinks and documents for the talks. In a corner was a suit of armor. D’Anna couldn’t help but compare it to the Centurions standing guard. Two of their Red Striped Centurions stood on the edges of the room. They were as still as the empty armor.

“I feel before we agree to anything we need to have the Thirteenth Tribe recognize us as sentient beings, not machines.” Sonja Six said.

A Two agreed, “Yes. Before we give them any deals on technology, they promise to treat us with full rights and amnesty for any crimes committed before we joined with the Colonials.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to get them to agree to that. There will be some blowback from the Colonials but Roslin and Adama have already shown their willingness to accept what is done is done. From what I have seen of human history they too will not bring up the past. Not when we can offer them so much.” An Eight added.

D’Anna nodded, “Very well then the next question is do we wish to establish a settlement here?”

“The Sixes feel that we should have something. Earth was core to our beliefs for a new direction for our people.”

Leoben spoke quietly, “I suggest we wait. The Baseship systems have regenerated and we can get the supplies we need from Earth. Although I doubt we will have as much trouble integrating into Earth society, there will be some issues. Let time pass, slowly integrating ourselves.”

Troy was also there. She was the sole representative of the Final Four Cylons. Tigh and Anders continued to avoid them. Despite several overtures they remained sided with the Colonials. D’Anna wasn’t going to press the issue. At the very least Tyrol had been more receptive. He had been reappointed as Chief of the Deck on Galactica and as a result was spending most of his time there.

Tory added her own view, “We should also remember Earth is vulnerable. Cavil will be looking for us and the Fleet. Right now Earth could easily be destroyed by a Loyalist attack. I’m not against staying but if the worst came to happen then I would think we wouldn’t want too many of our people on the ground if it did.”

Three shared her lost sister’s view, “I agree. If and when Earth looks like it can be defended then we can settle somewhere, for now I think we should keep most of our people on the Baseship. Now there is the other issue to discus, what will the Thirteenth think of our comrades’ proposal?”

All the Cylons turned their head to look at the Centurions standing guard. Neither machine moved but they spoke to the biological Cylons wirelessly, our request can be changed if that is required, the Centurions said. Tory still couldn’t quite get use to the idea of someone speaking in her head. D’Anna and the others had explained it wasn’t psychic communication, just a link the Centurions and they had. Each Cylon could experience it in a different way, projection, a text message, or as with Tory a voice.

D’Anna answered; I don’t believe they will object as long as they get something out of it.

The Centurion (or Centurions Tory wasn’t ever sure) responded, We will be more than willing to trade materials for our own land. Also we would continue our agreement of security for the Basestar and organics. That pledge could be extended to Earth as well.

Aloud, Six commented, “That might also encourage them. A guarantee, that neither Cylon, humanoid or mechanical, will attack Earth nor both will agree to defend the planet.”

Leoben shook his head, “But will they be comfortable with the idea of letting the Centurions live on their moon, creating their own society?”

“I agree with D’Anna and Sonja, as long as Earth’s major powers reap the benefits such as the materials the Centurions can mine or produce, they will be willing to give up part of their moon.” An Eight said.

D’Anna nodded and returned her focus to the Centurions, do you agree?

Yes, it answered.

Colonial-Earth Conference

The large conference room was packed. President Hayes looked around the rectangle table. On one side were all the representatives of Earth. She was sitting in the middle of them. To her immediate left and right was Britain and Russia with the other countries stretching out from there. Of course the entire Earth wasn’t here in this room. The UN was protesting loudly but all the founding members of the UN were in the room so Hayes thought they could take their complaints and shove them. If they had brought the Colonials to the UN General Assembly for discussion, they might have some agreement worked out in say two to three years. No, the only way to do this was with the major powers quickly before anyone could really stonewall the process.

On the other side of the table were the Colonial and Cylon leaders. Hayes couldn’t help but notice the gap between the two sides. It was the first of many sessions to be held over the coming the days. After the big meeting they would break into smaller working groups. They had to deal with issues of settlement, technology, planetary defense, and culture shock.

“If everyone could please take their seats” A staffer asked the assembled group.

The many aides and other soon to be wallflowers around the room got out of the way, left, or sat down. Allison got the sign that they were ready. Leaning forward slightly she began her opening statement.

“I welcome my fellow leaders and our cousins from far away to the first of what will be many discussions. Welcome to the Conference.”

Applause from the assembled group broke out. Hayes nodded in acceptance and then continued as the noise died down, “We all know the issues on the table are huge. They will change our planet, society, and technology. However it is critical that we come together in these coming days. While we have new friends and family from the stars there is also a danger out there. Only together can we reap the benefits of the coming future. If we cannot move past our squabbles we will face a fate too terrible to imagine.” She wanted them all to understand the stakes. If Cavil’s forces found an Earth not united in defense with the Colonials, they were finished.

“However I don’t believe that will be the case today. Each of our nations has overcome terrible odds. Whether they are social unrest, economic trouble, war or disease, ever success we have shows the human ability to survive and adapt. We also have proof in the form of the Colonials that no matter what happens if we work together, we can overcome any obstacle.”

The table broke into applause. Adama was impressed by the American President. He said as much to Laura. She replied in a whisper, “So am I. To think their country hasn’t had a woman President till her, they could have done worse.”

More speeches from the Colonials, Cylons, and other Earth powers would follow, at the very least though they had begun.

Battlestar Galactica
Aft Spaces

“Alright Chief, what did you want to show me?” Tigh asked. He was nearing the end of his shift. After supervising the transfer of the Colonial Fleet ships to Guam they had parked Galactica into a stationary orbit. The Admiral wanted a whole series of repairs and maintenance to begin since the ship wouldn’t be jumping anywhere in a while.

As the repairs began Tyrol called into CIC and reported that he needed the Colonel. Tigh had left Gaeta in charge and met up with Tyrol near the FTL engine. The Chief then led him into the aft spaces, deeper into the bowels of the ship.

“Take a look Colonel.” Galen said as he pointed a light at a section of structure braces. Tigh saw the braces had cracks running through them, they were split open almost.

“Oh Frak.” He mumbled, “How bad?”

Tyrol sighed, “Not good. There are cracks all along the length of the Old Girl. It can be fixed, if he had to have kept jumping it would have gotten worse but these aren’t the worst problem.” He picked up a lamp this one was turned off.

“After we found these I started checking for damage you couldn’t see. Normally you use X-Rays and I think the 13th Thirteenth Tribe has the equipment to double check what I found.” Tyrol plugged the light into an extension cord.

Tigh didn’t like where any of this was headed, “What did you find?”

“I applied a gel that that fluorescent when hit by UV light. Here we go…” Tyrol turned on the UV lamp. Tigh was shocked to see the strong structural support was a spider web of glowing lines.

“They’re micro-fractures. It’s in her bones Colonels.”

“How the hell did we let this happen?” Tigh shouted.

Tyrol shook his head, “Sir Galactica is over fifty years old. We haven’t been in a dry dock for over four years now. She’s been through things most ships never see in a life time. The Admiral slammed her onto the atmosphere of New Caprica, she taken tons of conventional ordnance, the nuke strike at the start of the second war, not to mention the shoddy work.”

Tigh was shocked, “What? You mean those frakers cut corners back on Caprica?”

Tyrol shrugged his shoulders, “Who knows sir. I know from the history books that Galactica was rushed into battles more than once during the first war. They probably needed her on the line so they skipped what they didn’t think they needed. It’s fine if you undergo regular overhauls and checks but we haven’t had the chance.”

Tigh started calming down, “I just don’t know how I’m going to tell the Old Man. You’ve started repairs?”

“Yeah, but there is only so much my crew can do. Those breaks you saw we can fix but these” he pointed to the micro-fractures, “we may need help with.”

“Does the Earth have any technology that might help?” Tigh asked.

Tyrol shook his head, “Don’t know probably good to let them know down there so we can ask. There is something though…”

“What is it?”

Tyrol knew that this would probably go nowhere but, “The Cylons. They showed me a number of different things. One of their maintenance items is a type of resin. It grows into damage or in our case cracks, makes the metal stronger, bonds with it.”

“Cylon technology? The Old Man would never go for it. I don’t know that I would!” Tigh exclaimed.

“Sir I’m just giving you an idea. If we don’t do something though, Galactica is going to have a very short remaining lifespan. God help us if Cavil shows up.”

Tigh really needed a drink now. He went up to the support and touched it. Although he didn’t have the same attachment to the ship Bill had, Tigh respected her. It had got them this far, “Chief start whatever repairs you can with our equipment now. Draft whatever supplies you need from the few Fleet ships we have left. Not like they need it now. I’ll see about that resin stuff, but if the Old Man says no then that’s it!”

“Yes sir.” Tyrol answered.

………..

Caprica Six was reading when Saul came in. She smiled till she saw how he looked, “Saul?”

“Hey. Gods damn it I need a drink.” He said taking off his jacket. Six frowned.

“Saul, remember we…”

He closed his eye, “Frak. It was making you nauseous.”

“What happened?” She came up to him and embraced. He held while he talked, “Tyrol’s found lots of structural damage to the ship. Lots of it. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Bill he loves this ship.”

Six kissed him and then spoke softly, “Just tell him. There is no way to make it less damaging. Saul, have you to talked to anyone from the Baseship? They have lots of repair abilities.”

Tigh laughed. He pulled away and took a seat at his desk. He settled for the pitcher of water there. Pouring himself a drink he said, “Bill won’t go for it. Maybe Earth has something we can use.”

Six sat at the table with him. She reached across and took his hand, “Don’t worry Saul it will be okay. God has seen to it that we have made it this far. Did you ever think a year ago we’d be at Earth, or have peace with Cylons, or that you would be a father?”

Caprica Six put her other hand near where there son was growing. Tigh smiled, “No.”

“Then have faith.” She smiled.

Tigh shook his head. He had never really believed in the Gods (or God). He didn’t want to get into issues of faith with Six. Changing the subject he asked, “Everything okay with Cottle?”

“Yes.” Six answered, “Liam is proceeding as he should. Of course this is the first pure Cylon child, so he wants to have more tests.”

Tigh got up and walked over to Caprica. He kneeled and felt her tummy, “My Son…Ellen and I tried to have children, never could. I gave up hope a while ago.” Six stiffened at the mention of Ellen Tigh. She knew deep down that part of Tigh was still in love with his wife. Six loved him but did not to always be in a ghost’s shadow.”

“It doesn’t matter. We have a son and he will be beautiful when he’s born. And will all live together…Saul?”

Tigh was no longer looking at her instead he was staring into space. His body was frozen, stiff and unresponsive. Six began gently shake him, “Saul…what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t hear her. Tigh’s mind was light years away. He was running through panicking people. They were running with no sense of direction or purpose. Saul pushed his way through them running through the rubble. That’s when he noticed it, his vision was perfect, his left eye back in place. He wasn’t wearing a Colonial uniform, just a civilian suit. It was torn, with blood, his maybe, on it. None of that mattered he needed to find her.

Another blinding flash of light erupted behind him. The roar followed shortly from the nuclear bomb going off. Even this he pushed out of his mind. Tigh pushed his way into the ruins of the bank. He yelled her name. The smashed lobby was clear, the remains of the roof in it. Then he heard her.

“Saul…” he turned to the voice. Falling to his knees, Saul began removing the rubble. He tried to remove the heavy material but failed. An arm covered in blood touch his face.

“It’s alright Saul. Everything is in place. We will be born again and live together forever.” She stroked his face. He held her other hand and leaned down, kissing her. Another bomb detonated right above them. The resulting thermal pulse and shockwave slammed into the bank, obliterating them.

Caprica was about to call for a medic when Tigh inhaled sharply. He began coughing and looked around confused. It took him a minute to remember where he was again. Caprica Six rushed to his side and took his hands, “Saul it’s me, what happened? Are you alright?”

“She’s…the…. it’s her….” He panted.

“She? Who Saul? Who is what?”

Tigh his mouth opened looked at her. A tear began to roll down his cheek. He said it quietly. Six almost didn’t hear him, later she decided she had not wanted to hear him say it.

“Ellen. She’s the Fifth.”

Viper II Fan · May 3rd 2009, 3:50pm

PLEASE post comments and thoughts in the Homecoming Discussion Thread II not here.

Thanks for reading!

Viper II Fan · Aug 28th 2009, 6:58pm

One Year Later...

Chapter Nine: A New World

Near Earth Space

Two groups of spacecraft rapidly closed on each other. One side was loaded with nukes with the mission of striking as many of Earth’s cities as possible. They were screened by fighters and Heavy Raiders. Defending their home planet was a squadron of Vipers, however these were not the ones from the Colonial Fleet. These were built on Earth. Most of the Vipers built on Earth were the Viper II’s, but some were the first Earth designed and constructed Mark VIII. Leading the defending squadron was Lieutenant Colonel Robert ‘Mustang’ James.

He loved his new fighter. The Viper Mark VIII was a combination of Colonial and Earth technology, the latter supplied by over a dozen nations. Some of his fellow officers, and even some of the civilians involved in the project, thought she was a bit ugly, but James thought it was a fine aircraft. Even better, it could go into space, and not even an F-22 Raptor or the JSF could do that. There were hard points along the wings and body for missiles. A 30mm RMK cannon was built into turreted mount under the nose with a targeting arc of 180 degrees across the front of the fighter. Not even the Colonial Vipers could do that.

Now, these weapons were about to be put to the test., “Red and Blue flights, you’ve got the fighter screen, Yellow and Green on me we hit the missile carriers.”

A chorus of “roger’s” and “okay’s” came over the radio. While his squadron was made up of USAF, USN, RAF, Russian and Chinese flyers, they all worked in English, for simplicity’s sake. A few of the Russian pilots still answered in “da’s” just to mess with the Americans. Mustang couldn’t believe sometimes. He had joined the Air Force following the end of the Cold War, but it was still a shock to be flying with Russian and Chinese pilots.

Focus man. We’ve got to get these guys, he told himself.

“Mustang, this is Raptor Eye. Bandits are splitting, bearing 180 mark 200.” The Colonial Raptor making the calls was acting as an AWACS in this exercise.

“Got it. Yellow and Green follow me.” He hit the throttles, increasing the speed.

The three Colonial designed but GE built thrusters flared with blue exhaust. With ease the defending Vipers closed on their enemy. James manipulated his HOTAS and brought the full power of his radar-DRADIS system to bear, “Everybody lock a bandit!”

He wanted to fire off his Advanced Aerospace Long Range Missiles. The AALRMs had powerful warheads. They could even be tipped with nukes. Unfortunately Mustang’s squadron didn’t have any of those versions. Also the Cylons weren’t making it easily.

“Damn it, they are jamming the sensors!” Peter ‘Mad Max’ Soloviev reported. Robert checked his systems the HUD and his sensors were tracking the bad guys, but the missile guidance wouldn’t lock on.

Swearing himself Mustang got on the wireless, “Okay then we get close and do it the old fashion way.”

The two groups closed. Cylon Raiders were pouring on the speed trying to get closer to Earth. While his squadron dealt with the main force of Raiders, Yellow and Green squadrons would go for the strike group carrying the nukes. The Raptor confirmed the presence of nuclear ordnance calling out ‘radiological alarm’

“Alright here we go.” Mustang called, and he switched his master weapons selector switch from his AALRMs to the much shorter range Copperhead infra-red weapons. Combining American and Russian IR missile tech had produced a very wicked weapon, which the Earth fighters were now unloading on their targets.

The Heavy Raiders preformed evasive maneuvers, dropping their ‘Swallows’, heat and sensor decoys. They spoofed about a third of the launched missiles. Several more missiles missed their targets due to Cylon piloting. Mustang and his fighters had to settle for killing six Heavy and seven fighter Raiders as they entered knifefighting range.

“All fighters, take your targets, but stay with your wingmen,” he ordered as his Viper and wingman went after the closest aggressors.

Mustang was targeting a Heavy Raider that was breaking down and to starboard. Firing his ship’s RCS thrusters, He pursued his target, working to get the Cylon in the arc of his cannon. Moving his head he brought the helmet mounted sight to bear on the target. Below his Viper the gun pod holding his cannon turned and followed his movement. Once he had the Raider in his sights he fired, a kill.

“Mustang, popped a Raider closing on your six, but we’ve got more trouble,” called out his wingman. Suddenly Mustang’s helmet began sounding the missile lock acquisition warning. Firing his thrusters, Robert pulled his fighter around to face the oncoming threat….

“Warning multiple direct hits…” a female voice spoke in his cockpit.

“Damn it.” He began to take the fighter into a new direction but the voice continued, “Multiple direct hits, engine failure, please shut down your forward…multiple hits… craft destroyed please cease your movement and maintain radio silence,” the MILES system told him.

“Shit.” He said, as now the exercise was over, for him anyway.

………

Captain Kara Thrace pulled her Mark II around. The squadron exercise was over; all the Colonial, Rebel Cylon, and Earth spacecraft were forming up for the trip home. Refuelers from Galactica would top off the Mark VIII’s for their trip back down. She was taking her squadron back to the ‘Bucket’. They had played the role of conventional Cylon Raiders for the training session. Although she loved flying, Kara was looking forward to getting back, as the Admiral had signed off on a three day pass for her. Of course there was the After Action Review to deal with first back at Langely AFB. Luckily Helo would run it for their pilots on Galactica while she hopped down to Earth, did her part of the AAR, and then got together with Sam.

The exercise had been good, she thought. The Earth pilots were learning. They even almost managed to get out of the little trap she and Cylon CAG had arranged. A small force of Heavy Raiders waited till everyone was tied up in ACM and then jumped in. First taking out the Raptor AWACS, and then surprising the defenders from behind. Even with the losses they took, the Earth pilots were coming along nicely.

Only a year ago they had started out with pilots who had never flown in space. Through hard work they found who could handle the transition to aerospace combat from simply atmospheric. Not everyone could, but eventually they came up with a class of pilots who could handle the task. Colonial and Cylon trainers then worked on teaching them the basics of aerospace maneuvering and combat principles. Next came simulated combat in one on one engagements and now they were working on group coordinated fights. Of course fighter combat wasn’t all they were teaching the cousins.

Material science, engines, FTL drives, Colonial technology was being recreated and improved at R&D centers all over the planet. Given enough time, Earth would have the building blocks to begin creating ships and fighter designs of their own. This was assuming of course that the ‘Cavilist’ Cylons didn’t show up.

That threat hung over them every day. Kara had been most worried about it when they first started. For a while she also wondered if what they hybrid had told her would be true. ‘You are the harbinger of death Kara Thrace; you lead them all to their end’, were the words which had consumed her thoughts months ago. So far though there had been no sign of any Cylons, rebel or otherwise, around Earth space. As more time passed the better prepared they became.

Their primary line of defense was the Rebel Basestar. As much as it pained her to admit it, Starbuck knew that Galactica was not up to combat ops yet. Chief Tyrol had found the damage to the old girl during a full cold iron inspection, and was not that surprised to see that it wasn’t confined simply to small sections of the ship. It was from bow to stern, in her keel and her ribs. Without a dry dock they had to make do with whatever the Chief, Cylon, and Earth engineers could do inside the Bucket. Whether it was enough or not, it was all they had at the moment.

“Starbuck, you are clear for approach,” the LSO called over the wireless. Kara snapped out of her thoughts and answered with an affirmative. She needed to relax and focus on landing. Firing her thrusters, Starbuck set up the landing approach.

The Pentagon
Washington D.C

Adama closed his eyes. He brought his fingers up to his nose and scratched where his glasses rested. The move pushed them up his nose and dug slightly into his ears. With a sigh the Admiral opened his eyes and took in the materials in front of him. Adama’s Washington desk, unfortunately not the one from his room aboard Galactica, was covered with reports; project expenses projections, and the headaches caused by their cousins.

If I had known this planet would be this much trouble…he thought. Bill took back the thought though. Earth, despite the problems it has and it brings, is our home now and I wouldn’t change that fact. As the senior Colonial Officer on the planet, he had to wear several different hats. First he was commander of the Colonial Fleet and the Rebel Cylons, meaning he controlled the wounded Galactica, the Rebel Basestar, all the fleet’s Vipers, Raptors, and Raiders plus the personnel and Cylons needed to man them.

Next, he was a critical part of the command of Earth’s growing space based armed forces. Not only did he control the Colonial Forces, but was a deputy in the command structure for the alliance. In fact having the most experience he was almost the unofficial commander of the whole thing. The grey areas of his responsibilities added to the problems already caused by their command structure. Finally he was part of the massive R&D effort to advance Earth technologies and get the nations of the planet into space. He was a commander, political player, and industrial leader all at the same time. Once more Adama wished he could have simply kept commanding a Battlestar.

At this hour he was reading up on their space development programs. The briefing Adama was about half way through was from a group of energy executives demanding that more resources be devoted to the Tylium Mining Project. They wanted two of the converted civilian ships detailed to them for the next four months. It wasn’t the worst request Adama had seen forwarded to him in the past year.

When they first started things had been pretty bleak. Humanity on Earth had little space capabilities. Almost all of it involved slow, hard to turn around chemical rockets or shuttles. The USAF had some experimental aircraft and even a spaceplane that had been developed during the 80s and 90s, but they too suffered the same problem; too expensive, too slow to turn around, and not enough payload. If they were going to build a space support system they would need to start from scratch.

Luckily the Earth could learn from Colonial history and development. It also helped that the all the major defense and industrial nations were aiding the effort. Working around the clock and using the best minds Earth, the Colonials, and Cylons had, they began to recreate basic, but workable Colonial technology. Colonial technology was easier for the Earth nations to develop as Cylon systems still required more advances in computers and biology than Earth could deal with at this point. Engines, material, and fuel science all were being worked out.

It helped Earth was far less techno phobic then the Colonies had been. They were willing to embrace new ideas and apply solutions to problems the Colonials and even the Cylons hadn’t considered. Even with all the work the accomplished, the Colonials and Cylons were doing much of the heavy lifting. Nearly half of the Raptors, Shuttles, and other heavy lifters under Adama’s command were bringing things up and down to Earth. It had put a heavy strain on his crews. Several accidents had occurred from tired Raptor or Shuttle crews. Their sacrifices weren’t in vain. Six new space stations were up, a viable Tylium source had been found in Sol, and orbital and system wide defensive weapons were coming online.

The first thing they had done was to build a series of early warning and defensive satellites. Raptors and Heavy Raiders then deployed these around the Solar System. Built with a mix of salvaged and Earth created DRADIS systems, as well as other sensors used by both civilizations, they provided coverage that Adama’s Viper and Raider patrols couldn’t. Around Earth, small weapons satellites had also been deployed however Adama wasn’t sure of their actual ability to provide all that much coverage. More PDF platforms, they would be backed up and eventually replaced by the next generation of defensive satellites and stations just coming online.

They had also managed to begin Viper production, first replacing Colonial losses, as that was the first priority. They started with a basic Mark II, then using some equipment stripped from Pegasus prior to its destruction to build some Mark VIIs. Galactica and the Basestar now had full fighter wings. Next, Earth began working on their own designed Vipers. A very stripped down Mark II was the first step. Called the Mark II-E, it was more of a training tool and learning aircraft. However it could and would serve as a frontline fighter if the time came.

Next they had worked on a Mark VII-E version. Like the Earth based Mark II it was less complicated then its Colonial counterpart and was designed to teach their Earth cousins more about building their own Vipers. Finally they were working on the pure Earth model, the Mark VIII. Fully designed and built by their cousins.

Other small ships were on the drawing boards. Instead of a Raptor copy, the Earth military people decided on something else called a gunship. The basic unarmed version would serve as an AWACS and troop carrying dropship. It surprised Adama at how easily the planet had been able to grasp the new technologies and apply them with their own ideas. Already the engineers were thinking even further. One of the papers on his desk was from an American and European design teams trying to secure the first space warships contract.

As much as he and everyone else wanted to start building Battlestars, they were years away from that. Only a few small space building and repair yards existed at the moment. It might take five years before they even had a dry-dock large enough to assemble a cruiser or destroyer. Despite all they had done, it was still a very thin defense. If Cavil’s forces took out Galactica or the Basestar…Adama shook his head. He needed to get back to reading. In ten minutes his American military aide would come in and drag him off to a meeting with Chinese and Russian officers, undoubtedly to tell him what he was doing wrong, and then ask for more of his resources.

Gods I miss my ship.

Aberdeen Proving Ground
Maryland

“Fire!” the supervisor yelled.

A rifle burst rang out over the range. Three rounds were fired in a quick burst from the M-16, the barrel moving slightly as the recoil kicked in, but all the rounds were expertly aimed by the Army ordnance specialist. Downrange laid the target, the metal chassis of a specially built target drone Cylon Centurion. In rapid succession the 5.56mm rounds hit. There were a series of quick puffs of smoke and after it cleared the damage could be seen on the drone.

“Nice.” The observer commented. Three bullet holes with black burnt metal were dead center of the drone Centurion’s chest.

One of the civilian representatives smiled, “Damn right nice. Those rounds will penetrate their armor, no need for those.”

Looking down at the table where they had laid ammunition and weapons, the observer saw at what the other guy was pointing. Colonial HE rounds lay in their box. He looked back at the civilian rep, “Those will kill a Bullet Head in one shot, not three, and they’ve worked for me more than once.”

The Army specialist who fired the rifle added his opinion, “I have to say the Raufoss will work but I’m worried about using on their heavier models.”

Samuel T. Anders nodded, “Yeah let’s get the next one out there.”

A group of soldiers moved out to swap out the target. Instead of a standard Cylon Centurion, a target drone of the much more armored model was paced down the range. Used for assaults or boarding missions, these models were resistant to Colonial standard rounds, they required HE rounds every time. Sam had to wait a few minutes as the next target was prepared. As the American military types talked with the contractors, Sam’s thoughts began to drift, mostly to his wife who he hadn’t seen in a few weeks.

In just another few hours, meet her at the Embassy, the Cylon thought.

In the weeks and then months that had followed their arrival, Sam had worked to renew his relationship with Kara and adjust to his title as one of the Final Five. Mostly he refused to have anything to do with the Cylons. He tried to avoid going to the Baseship or visiting their communities in the U.S. and Europe unless ordered too by the Admiral. Mostly his work kept him out of the Human-Cylon R&D centers. It was creepy how all those Twos, Sixes, and Eights looked to him as if he was some sort of Prophet. Sam didn’t understand it, especially since he didn’t remember anything. All he knew was that he was a Cylon. The only thing any of them had learned over the last year was who the fifth was. A pang of guilt ran through Anders as he thought about her, Ellen Tigh.

He had pushed the Colonel to do it, to deal with her, to punish her for the betrayal of the Resistance on New Caprica. Anders had seen the body after Tigh had poisoned her, to take satisfaction in it, now he only felt shame. Did she download somewhere? Is it possible she’s all by herself, alone somewhere out there? Sam couldn’t imagine a worst kind of hell.

“We’re ready.” The test supervisor said.

Anders got out of his deep personal reflection and got back to business. As one of the Colonials (or Cylons) with lengthy combat experience with the Centurions, he was one of the main officers involved in blending Colonial and Earth infantry fighting styles and weaponry. One of the things they were working on was small arms ammunition. Both sides had developed firearms that worked on the same principles, a projectile propelled by gunpowder, fired out of a rifle. However that’s where things changed.

The Colonials had geared their weapons to their enemy as had Earth’s nations. However a man in battle dress and maybe some body armor was not the same as an armored automatic killing machine. Even the normal Colonial pistol and rifle rounds were heavier and more resilient than their Earth counterparts, not to mention the fact no one on Earth had thought to build a high explosive bullet.

At first there had been some talk of using heavier AP rounds, or going back to higher calibers like 7.62mm. However, since the armies of the Thirteenth Tribe had already geared their weapons to certain rounds; it was easier to change those then the weapons. At the low end of the spectrum was the new Raufoss 5.56mm. Originally the round had been built around a .50 caliber weapon for heavy sniper rifles or MGs, now it would be smaller and more effective.

Combining armor piercing, explosive, and incendiary all in one, the API was being adopted universally across the planet. American companies were using the Raufoss design while Russia and China had combined their resources to produce API rounds for their own weapons.

“Firing.”

Another three round burst was shot. These did a little worse against the heavier Centurion model. Sam and the evaluation group went down to the target after the range was declared safe.

“I’d say we got about half way through these inner portions, Lt. Anders would this be a kill in your book?”

Sam studied the holes which had lost some of their energy working through the tougher Cylon metal, “Maybe if it was a good shot. However I think you’d need more hits to take these guys down, they are built too well.” Anders had a dozen memories flash through his mind, ones where Centurions had fought with missing legs, arms, and sometimes even heads for a few seconds.

“Okay tomorrow we try the new model five-five six and eval the Euro’s ideas, good work everyone,” the director of the test called out. Sam and the team engaged in some more shop talk as they headed back to the Hummers for the drive back. In another two hours he’d be back at the Colonial Embassy.

Bethesda Naval Hospital

“You’ll be happy to know the first class of students is ready to graduate in the next week, the first school children to be taught and graduate on Earth.” Lee proudly told her.

With a small cough the older woman smiled, “That’s wonderful Lee. How are you doing?”

Lee Adama, Ambassador to Earth from the Twelve Colonies of Kobol was a bit taken aback by the question. He was sitting next to the woman which had inspired him to get into the civilian government, watching her fading away, machines, tubes, and other items he couldn’t identify all over her body. Laura you’re dying and you want to know how I’m doing.

“Fine…it’s challenging. There is so much to work out. I thought we had it bad during the Exodus. I was wrong.” He replied trying to recover from his pause, “Technology agreements, issues with our settlement, treaties with other nations for food, clothing, it eats up almost all my time. However it’s exciting and I’m enjoying it.”

Laura, recovering from another bout of chemotherapy, was slow to respond. She summoned up the strength and shifted a little, “Good. You are doing a great job. The press seems to be impressed with you.”

“Really I thought they just liked me as a punching bag,” he laughed.

She smiled but as she was still woozy, it didn’t quite come through, “How’s Zarek?”

The younger Adama frowned, “Well Zarek wouldn’t be himself if he wasn’t causing problems.”

“I take it his comments haven’t made your life easier.” Laura said.

Lee nodded. Tom Zarek, President of the Twelve Colonies had made sure no one thought he would be no Earth yes man. Almost as soon as their settlement had been founded, he began working to ensure that they didn’t become beholden to their more numerous cousins. Lee knew however they were. He didn’t agree with policy but found his own ability to control Zarek non existent. Accepting the position of ambassador he had hoped to moderate Zarek or at the very least do damage control. However the planet Earth had a habit of ignoring him.

Even before everything had been learned about Earth, Lee knew there would problems adjusting. Their societies were separated by thousands of years (the exact time period had not been worked out since the Colonials had different concepts of time) and of course changes would have occurred in the Thirteenth Tribe. The truth was worst that Lee could have imagined. Earth was older than their society. Natural history showed that humans had developed on Earth. Colonial history was…wrong.

That little fact had escaped quickly after they landed. To say it caused problems would be like calling genocide a viable method of population control. Some segments of the Colonial Remnant took the news in stride, deciding not to think about it too much just to be thankful they had arrived. The other side of the equation was the Colonials who hadn’t taken the news at all well. Some of the Gemenese had argued they needed to go back into space to get away from the heretics. Others were damning the Earth religions (it hadn’t helped that most of them supported the idea of a one true God).

It did work both ways. Earth societies were trying to wrap their heads around the idea of the Colonials, even after a year’s time. Lee had been told by a White House staffer that the idea of ‘Ancient Astronauts’ had all but been laughed away, till they showed up. The major religions that some of the Colonials hated were having their own crisis. How did they fit into Judaism, Christianity, or Islam? Much like the followers of the Scrolls of Kobol, each of the major faiths was a mix of the moderate, accepting, and downright hateful.

Lee had given up trying to figure it all out. Whatever God, Gods, or ‘Alien Space Bats’ plan was it was probably too large for him to figure out. Of course that didn’t stop one man from saying he had, or at least most of it.

“What about Baltar?” Laura moved onto her next favorite person in the world.

Adama sighed, “He’s still preaching while working for the R&D program at the same time. In reality he’s been pretty helpful.”

Much to his surprise Laura just nodded her head. Lee had expected her to complain about the former Vice-President. He worked on changing the subject, “So, how are you doing?”

She chuckled, “I have cancer Lee, so how do you think?” He grimaced till she spoke again, “It’s okay, I have good days and bad. Today is about in between.”

“I asked the doctors, sorry but I had too, they say that your making progress.”

Laura closed her eyes, “They say lots of thing.”

“Madam President…”

She opened them again, “It’s Laura, Lee. I’m not the president anymore. I’ve fulfilled my role. Whatever the Gods have planned for me after this.” She made a gesture with her hand, showing she was done with it all.

Lee had worried about Laura. The truth about Earth and humanity could have shaken her faith, but it hadn’t. One time before she had resigned the Presidency to Zarek she told him, we’ve found Earth Lee, just as the Gods predicted. Everything else is just debate now. It troubled him that she seemed resigned to her fate. Part of him wondered, how can so much of the Scrolls supposedly be false, but others true? And what of the prophesy by Pythia? The dying leader will not enter the Promised Land, is that fate or another lie?

Adama was going to say something when there was a knock at the door. A nurse stuck her head in after opening it, “Ambassador Adama you have an emergency call from Admiral Adama.”

The Colonial Embassy
Washington D.C

The taxi dropped Kara off in front of the security checkpoint. She stepped out onto Massachusetts Ave. Embassy Row housed a number of different countries’ embassies and now the Colonial one as well. As per protocol she was wearing her dress greys. About an hour earlier she had taken a shuttle flight down from Galactica to Andrews AFB. After that she had been picked up by a car sent by the Admiral. She was taken to see the Old Man who was more than relieved to see her. Starbuck delivered her report on the exercise and the current readiness of the Air Wing. Chief Tyrol had done wonders to their Vipers and Raptors with fresh parts produced down on Earth. Almost all of the fighters and strike birds were functioning as good as new. Once the report was complete and some small talk with the Admiral she left to meet Sam.

I wonder how she’s doing? Starbuck wondered. During her talk with Admiral Adama, it was clear he was taking Roslin hospitalization hard. It was clear that he didn’t see her as much as either of them wanted. However she knew neither would hold it against the other. Laura knew what Adama’s job was, to defend their new home, and he knew that she expected him to focus on that.

Can’t either of them get a break? the pilot thought, wondering why the Gods were so cruel. Kara shook her head as she approached the first outer security point manned by the D.C. Police and uniformed Secret Service. A small guard shack and concrete barriers prevented anyone from driving right into the embassy. Showing her Colonial Fleet ID got her through the checkpoint easily. The guards directed her towards the main entrance and final security checkpoint. This one was manned by Colonial Marines and Police. The CP force was mostly former law enforcement officers from the Colonies. One of the Marines, a corporal from Galactica’s original crew, nodded as she went by. He wore the standard black uniform and equipment of a combat ready Colonial Marine.

Kara walked by him and several CMC troops who wore their dress uniforms and stood out partly on guard and display. The main hall of the embassy had a waiting area which was manned by a secretary. Dozens of people were waiting for their appointments inside. Starbuck saw a few uniforms, American, British, and Indian. There were also civilians of various types and nationalities, both Colonial and Thirteenth Tribe. Off in the corner were two Cylons, a Six and a Two.

“Hello Captain Thrace, how can I help you?” the secretary asked.

“I’m looking for my husband.”

The secretary’s face changed slightly. It was generally known Kara was married to a member of the Final Five. Starbuck knew instantly that the secretary was one their people not comfortable with Cylons. Kara didn’t blame her but it got a bit tiring. The woman quickly regained her composure and nodded, “Lt. Anders is upstairs would you take a seat while I get him?”

Starbuck nodded and grabbed an open sofa chair before it was snatched up. She watched as a group of civilians, Americans she could tell, went and met a Colonial who greeted them warmly. Wearing translators everyone could understand each other. Unlike the Cylons, the Colonials were slow learning Earth languages. Admiral Adama had made all the senior officers learn English at the very least. Starbuck remembered the lessons unpleasantly. When it was obvious Sam wouldn’t be coming down immediately, she grabbed a magazine off the table.

It was a Colonial translation of the publication Newsweek. The lead picture showed one of R&D centers. Kara recognized it as the one set up at Baikonur Cosmodrome. A ‘public’ area it showed projects that were okay for public disclosure. The photo showed a former Colonial liner turned cargo carrier. It was lifting a massive section for one of the Defense Stations into orbit. Flipping to the article, it commented on the progress made to date with Colonial technology. Another one inside the magazine annoyed Kara however.

It focused on areas of conflict between the two societies. Of course it all dealt with the culture clash between the Colonial and Earth. Conflicting religions, moral views, even views on relationships. The article had a quote from some Christian Right member calling the Colonial acceptance of same sex couples as an affront to God. There was also a little on how the Cylons were mixing and influencing Earth. Already there were people clamoring for biological enhancements or internet groups devoted to establishing ‘relations’ with the different models. Starbuck shook her head, having only come herself to accepting the toasters, it shocked her how quickly Earth accepted them and now even wanted to emulate them.

“Starbuck!” Kara turned her head to see Sam, a smile on his face and walking out towards her.

She went right up to him and kissed. Most of the Thirteenth tribe members didn’t bat an eye; a few Colonial staff looked for a moment but moved on. After she was done Kara smiled, “Miss me?”

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, want to get something to eat. That report I wrote took a lot out of me.”

“I hope it didn’t, because I thought we might skip lunch,” the hotshot pilot replied suggestively as they stepped out of the lobby and into the fresh air. Anders was about to answer when he heard it. Although he didn’t see the vehicle, the former resistance fighter knew someone had stepped on the gas and was heading right for them.

At the outer security checkpoint the Secret Service uniforms saw a van and two sedans pull out of the traffic and head right for them. Instantly knowing all hell was about to break loose, one yelled into his radio, “BLACK! ALL STATIONS BLACK!”

Both men drew their weapons from holsters, but it was already too late. A young man, clearly Arab leaned out of the left most sedan and opened fire with a snub nosed version of an AK rifle. The full automatic fire was inaccurate but the first five shots connected with one of the guards. He went down with blood spraying out from his white shirt. The sedans crashed right into the barriers erected at the checkpoint. From the windows the terrorists inside them sent bullets everywhere. People watching the embassy from the sidewalk scattered, others were cut down by the gunfire, in a few seconds all the guards at first point were wounded or dead.

The attackers were not without their causalities. Between the DC police and uniformed Secret Service they cut down four of the attackers, killing most of the ones who climbed out of the sedans. However another group emerged from the van carrying more guns and grenades.

Starbuck and Anders had grabbed cover at the sounds of the first gunshots. Both were instantly flush with adrenaline as they began thinking with combat instincts. Kara watched as the Marines moved to establish a defensive line, but they were in trouble as a trio of hand grenades landed in the mist of the advancing CMCs. She shouted a warning but it was too late. Anders dragged her back behind the cover as they blew.

Four soldiers were down, two dead for sure. The Marines at the final gate opened up with their rifles. Their aimed shots were overshadowed by the loud distinctive sounds of AK-47s and AK-74Us. Anders saw that the troops needed help, pinned they couldn’t stop the enemy advancing. Without thinking he rushed out, bent over low to make him harder to hit, and in a few seconds he had snatched up a fallen Marine’s rifle.

It amazed him how natural the motion felt, putting the stock to his shoulder, lining up the scope on the target, and then pulling the trigger, all that from a guy who three years earlier had never fired a gun before, he thought abstractly. His shot hit a terrorist right in the chest dropping him. This of course drew the fire of one of his comrades. Starbuck had him covered though. She had taken a pistol off one of the Marines and fired a trio of shots, killing the guy shooting at her husband. Both Starbuck and Anders moved to join the Marines in defense of the embassy.

“To the right!” a Marine warned. Sam saw the enemy, but this guy didn’t have a weapon only a vest….

“Suicide bomber!” Anders warned bringing his rifle around. He knew he wouldn’t be able to kill the guy in time.

Kara armed the small launcher under the pistol’s barrel, “Fire in the hole!” She triggered the launcher and fired the large HE round. Designed to kill a Centurion, it wasn’t hard to imagine the effects on a normal human body. Gore and smoke was all that remained of the guy. Sam gunned down another two terrorists, but watched as another bomber approached. The few remaining gunmen laid down fire to cover their brother in jihad. It was clear that he didn’t want them, but the people in the embassy. Sam left the protected position going for the bastard.

“Sam!” Starbuck yelled but couldn’t follow as 7.62mm round chewed up the ground around her.

Anders ignored the fire from his right side, taking aim with the rifle. He finally lined up on the bastard and fired. Two bullets connected with the bomber in his back, falling towards the ground the man tried to keep moving. His spinal cord was shattered, unable to move further in to his objective, the terrorist seized the moment before he passed out, “ALLAHU AKABR!”

The explosion occurred just far enough away to only shatter the glass of lobby and upper stories of the embassy, but close enough to send Sam flying. Starbuck and the Marines were knocked aside by the flying debris and shockwave. Everything went black for her for a few moments. She came around with her ears ringing. Slowly getting up, she was covered in dust and blood came out of her ears and small wounds to her face and hands. Kara stumbled forwards into the smoke.

A single terrorist was still moving getting up he was dazed. Kara cut him down with the last rounds in the pistol. Dropping it she moved forwards. She yelled for Sam but couldn’t hear her own voice. Still looking she stumbled on something. Looking down she saw it wore Colonial Grey. Starbuck collapsed to the ground pulling Sam into her arms. He wasn’t moving and covered in blood.

Viper II Fan · Aug 28th 2009, 7:03pm

Please Comment here, Homecoming Discussion Thread THIS IS A STORY ONLY THREAD!!!!!!!!!

Viper II Fan · Sep 18th 2009, 5:56pm

Chapter Ten: An Equivalent Response

The White House
Washington D.C.

It was quiet in the Oval Office, even though it was filled with people who should have been talking or engaged in discussion. President Allison Hayes sat behind her desk looking at the advisors around her. She wanted to say something but her mind couldn’t come up with anything. A quick glance at her desk caught the photos of her family and friends. In the sliver frame she could see her reflection. Allison saw her hair had more grey in it then the last time she looked. Talk about the office aging you, she thought. For a moment the President wondered if things had gone differently over the past year, would she feel as old as she did now.

The terrorist attack was two days old. In seemed impossible that so much could happen in such a short time, but that was life. Shortly after the attack a tape had appeared on Al-Jazeera released by the current leader of Al-Qaeda. Bin Laden had disappeared into the mountains of Pakistan, possibly dead from old age or his rumored medical condition, or maybe still kicking enjoying his complete isolation. His Egyptian partner was certainly dead, killed by a Hellfire missile strike two years earlier. The new guy announced in grand tones that the jihad against the infidels from above was on and that all true Muslims should work to kill the Colonials and their machines. After all it was the ‘will of God’. This was joined by coverage of the congratulations by Iran’s new hard-line government to the martyrs.

Can’t they just collapse already? Hayes wondered. After the disputed elections of 2009, Iran had tittered between peaceful protests to outright civil conflict. The events of the last year had played their part. With the arrival of Colonial/Cylon technology especially their battery and power generation abilities, Oil was becoming more and more irrelevant. Prices had started falling four months earlier as all the major American, European, and Asia car companies made announcements for the first generation of fully electric cars. The side effect of course was the economic welfare of the entire Persian Gulf was dropping. What would happen when that entire violate region of the world found itself without its livelihood? Her best advisors didn’t know and neither did Hayes.

“Madam President?” she looked up to see her secretary standing inside the now open door to the Oval Office. “Ambassador Adama ma’am.”

“Send him in,” Hayes said. She got up which caused all the people in the office to do the same. Lee came in, looking she saw, as tired as her.

“President Hayes.” He offered his hand.

Allison took it and soberly offered, “The United States of America and I offer our condolences for your losses, Mr. Ambassador.”

“Thank you Madam President. Do you know anything more?”

She indicated for Adama to take a seat. Hayes sat across from Lee. General Emerson, the Secretaries of State and Defense, plus the National Security Advisor were seated on the larger sofa chairs lying parallel in the center of the Oval. Robertson began, “The attack was carried about by a group of Saudis and Pakistanis. We have ID’s on two of them; they didn’t take them out of their wallets. The FBI is trying to run down the weapons for any info plus they are searching for these guy’s paper trails, they always leave one. Plus there is the statement from their boss.”

“I saw.” Lee simply answered. His first reaction after seeing that message was to jump into a Viper cockpit. Of course he didn’t have that option anymore.

“Do you know where he is?” the former Viper pilot asked.

Secretary Baker looked at the President who nodded her permission. Baker then spoke, “Since 9/11 we’ve made a lot of improvements in tracking and monitoring these bastards. Plus as the more senior leadership was taken out, the guys replacing them are nowhere near as good. They make more mistakes.” He looked at Robertson who took over.

“Thanks to some hard work by our intelligence agencies and info from the Pakistanis we have a good idea of where they are the new camps in western Iran.”

Lee thanked them then took a breath; here goes nothing, “Madam President on behalf of the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Quorum of Twelve I inform you that we want to retaliate for the terrorist attack.”

Everyone looked to Hayes who hadn’t reacted visibly to the news. Instead of being surprised she was expecting it. From all her meeting with Roslin, Admiral Adama, and the other officers of the Colonial Fleet, they wouldn’t just sit back.

Why did I ever agree to run for this job? She thought.

Cylon Apartment Complex
Berlin, Germany

“We need to get going.” She said.

Mark Ruhdorfer opened an eye and looked at his girlfriend. She was lying next to him, the sheets of her bed covering her body. The blonde hair was long and falling across her shoulders. She was nearly as tall as him but not quite. With a smile he reached out and felt Annika’s prefect skin. It was about two in the afternoon. Originally they had met before their flight for lunch. While he was still hungry, Mark decided that what they had just done was better than a meal.

“Sure but do we really need to be there?” he asked playfully.

She smiled but pushed his hand away, “Yes. Now get dressed.”

Mark mumbled to himself but knew she was right. He swung his legs off the bed and began looking for his clothes. After a few moments of fumbling around he managed to find everything and got it back on. Of course he was done first, men always were faster than women, even alien ones, he thought. Just one year earlier, Mark had been a nobody; just a missile engineer working for EADS, the European Aeronautic Defense and Space Company. Now he was at the forefront of weapons and space defense technology, and dating an organic artificial intelligence. She was beautiful, brilliant, and wonderful. It didn’t matter to Mark if she was considered by some to be a ‘machine’, she was more than that. He remembered when they had first met.

It had been at the first major conference between the European defense contractors and representatives of the Cylons and Colonials. Held in London it laid the ground work for many of their R&D efforts on the continent. Annika was a weapons expert for the Rebels. She was responsible for maintaining their heavy anti-ship and nuclear weapons. They began talking all shop at first. For two hours they discussed nothing but missile payloads, sensor systems, and propulsion. They met again two weeks later when Mark was excited to learn she was part of a large group of rebels setting up shop in Germany.

Things changed in the next few months slowly at first, shared meals, lots of working sessions, and finally their deeper discussions. She told him about the destruction of the Colonies first hand. Annika admitted she even had worked on some of the missiles used on the Colonial Battlestars. How they had hunted them and then what happened on New Caprica. Over the years she began to feel real guilt about what they had done. The others of her model felt that too, so they decided to go against the plan. Mark decided to then show her one night why he understood her more than she knew.

Annika and he went to the Brandenburg Gate then past it. He showed her the memorial. The Holocaust Memorial consisted of multiple slabs of stone arranged in a gird across a large open area with trees. While walking inside them he explained what this place was built for. Mark gave her all the grim details of what had begun in 1933 and ended with his country devastated on May 8, 1945. He also made sure to show her the Resistance Memorial, dedicated to the July plotters. “They showed the world, we weren’t all monsters” he had told Annika.

She then asked him if any of his family had fought in the war. Mark nodded and told her about his grandfather. He had fought in Russia and seen and done terrible things, they haunted him till his death. Mark explained Germany today was a new nation but one that would always live with the guilt of what had been done by some in World War II. Little did Mark know what his actions would do for the Cylons. She had later explained it to him, each model shared a collective pool of emotions and if they wished memories. Annika shared that night with all the Sixes and eventually all of the Rebels. As a result the country with the most Cylon residents was Germany. It was also shortly after that Annika asked him out.

Now he was a minor celebrity. Having been one of the first of the ‘Thirteenth Tribe’ as the Colonials called them to date a Cylon; he had become an item of pop culture. Part of it was exciting and he had to admit the money Annika and him had made was nice. In a few more weeks their book How to Date a Six would be hitting the shelves. However his fifteen minutes of fame were over, which was fine by him (after all it has hard to compete with the first human/Cylon same sex couple an Eight and some woman from the States).

Annika was finally ready. Beautiful as ever she wore a simple suit with her briefcase carrying her tablet computer, “Ready Mark?”

He had gotten his laptop and other papers tighter, “Ja, shall we?”

They left the apartment and headed for the lobby. Manning the security desk was a Two who went by the name of Wilhelm. He smiled at them politely. Mark knew while he might look nice, in seconds the Cylon would be able to pull out an MP-7 from under his desk. Of course that was only if they got pass the people outside.

Mark put on some sunglasses as he stepped outside. It was partly necessary due to the glare. The two metal Centurions tended to glint on sunny days. They weren’t motionless automatons. Both robotic sentries scanned the street for trouble. Since the terrorist attack in the United States, all the Colonial and Cylon areas were on increased alert. Normally the Centurions stayed near the Cylon Consulate. Unit things calmed down however they would remain outside the large Cylon apartment block.

Annika and Mark walked to the end of the street, which was closed due to the security alert. The ends of the block were manned by German police. They recognized the couple and smiled, a newer officer on the duty took his time to admire Annika’s form.

“Someone is staring a bit.” Mark commented.

She smiled and joked, “I could ask Wilhelm to shoot him.”

Mark chuckled, “Too simple, have him give the new guy a philosophical lecture.”

Annika laughed, she had passed along that lesson to Mark even before they were an item. Don’t ask a Two about the nature of the universe, they won’t shut up. But it was time to work, “So you think it will be a successful run?”

“Yes we’ve got the targeting software down, now we just need to see if an aircraft can talk to the weapon.” Mark answered. Both human and Cylon were deep into work conversation on their way to their flight.

The White House
Washington D.C.

Allison wondered if she was setting some sort of Presidential record. In all of the random facts of the White House and its occupants someone had to have kept track of how many times a President was in the Situation Room. Of course this would only apply to Presidents since FDR who had the place built. If they have I’m sure I’ve won it, Hayes thought.

To handle this latest crisis, her NSC team was assembled again. The usual suspects were here, General Emerson, Secretary of Defense Baker, Secretary of State Keller, Jack Robertson, CIA, NSA and the rest of the merry men and women that made up the group.

“Alright, Julie what is the worst case scenario; what happens if we let the Colonials go ahead with their strike?” the President asked.

Keller sighed, “Iran declares war on the Colonials, on us, and whoever else they think they need to. No matter what happens its going to raise hell on the Arab Street.”

“What the hell doesn’t cause problems on ‘The Street’ over there.” Baker snorted.

“I know Baker, but we are in uncharted waters. When we agreed to let the Colonials settle under the UN Resolution and the secret agreement between the JSA nations we agreed to give them certain powers that sovereign nation would have, while denying others like the war fighting ability.” Keller answered.

Hayes remembered the discussions that began in Geneva then continued in Paris, Moscow, D.C., Beijing, New York, and ending with the celebratory treaty signing at the White House. Some of the main issues that had been discussed and in some cases violently argued about was the rights the Colonials should be entitled to. Do they have the power to declare war? Will their city site eliminate local law and territorial claim? How do you bring their economy into the worlds without causing chaos? In the end the Colonial Remnant was given a mix of rights. They walked a fine line between sovereign nation and dependent state. Despite the growth they had managed they were still dependent on the rest of the world for food, clothing, building materials, etc.

Baker continued the debate as Hayes was thinking, “They’d be attacking a terrorist camp, not Iran. It’s already been recognized that Al-Qaeda isn’t a legit national army.”

“The Iranians won’t see it that way. This isn’t Libya, Somalia, or even Pakistani. Iran is going to react to this as an attack on them.” Keller warned.

“What about the diplomatic route, any chance we can get the Iranians to see reason?” Hayes asked but suspecting she knew the answer.

Keller shook her head, “Doubt it. They are struggling to hold onto their control. The hardliners can’t appear to give in; it might just be the thing to push the moderate faction into a call for real reform or to secure it themselves. They won’t give up the terrorists or accept a strike on their soil.”

Hayes sighed, “Are we sure that it was the camps in western Iran are the ones where the attack originated?”

The director of CIA spoke, “Yes Madam President as certain as we can be. My counter-terrorist department along with the FBI has traced emails and other indicators showing that the attacks came from the camps the Iranians set up. We have ties between Mohammad Kalei and Reza Musavi the ringleader of the attack on the embassy and leader of the camps. Emails and transfers from banks known to be set up by Islamic ‘Charities’ which fund attacks. Al-Qaeda’s leadership isn’t what it used to be they’ve gotten sloppy and left clues.”

“What if we strike, an Echelon mission?” Robertson suggested.

Hayes thought about that. Echelon was the codename for a black program set up under Bush then expanded by Obama and continued by her. It made the War on Terror less public. Strikes were made by a combination of unmanned drones, Delta Force troops, CIA teams, whatever the target demanded. Designed to bring the war out of the spotlight of cable news and the public, while not letting up in intensity it had done plenty of damage to terrorist groups. Improved terror hunting techniques by CIA and America’s allies had aided the fight.

Baker shook his head, “We need time to set up, time we might not have. Zarek has made increasingly inflammatory comments. He’s trying to force us to let him respond.”

“Or make us do their work for them.” Robertson added, “He’s suggested that JSA applies.”

“Oh please,” Keller complained. JSA was the Joint Security Agreement. It was larger than NATO, as every industrialized nation and major military power had signed the agreement. It said that in the event of a Loyalist Cylon attack upon Earth, these nations would work together to defend and resist them. A new military command, the Combined Forces Command was the military arm of the JSA. The CFC would have control of all of Earth’s Viper wings, missile batteries, and other defenses as they came on line. Admiral Adama was part of the CFC chain of command along with the Colonial and Rebel Cylon forces. The Colonial Remnant was also a member of the JSA.

“It’s a treaty against Cavil, not our own homegrown crazies,” Keller commented.

“Do we help the Colonials carry out their mission or no? What assets do we have in the region?” the President wanted to know.

Emerson answered, “CENTCOM has the George Bush in the Arabian Sea along with our F-35 wing in Iraq plus the Raptors and Eagles in Kuwait. There are two submarines also in range of Iran. We can use their Tomahawks.”

“Adama doesn’t need all that. Vipers and their Raptors could drop from orbit and bomb that place flat in minutes. The Iranian air defense might not have enough time to react. Hell Galactica could just fire some shells down there and let the kinetic energy do the work. Of course she’s not ready for that.” Secretary Baker said.

“When is Admiral Adama coming by?” Hayes inquired.

Robertson replied, “In twenty minutes. He’s stopping by at John Hopkins first.”

Johns Hopkins Hospital
Baltimore, Maryland

By order of the President, FBI officers were deployed to the hospital that held many of the Colonial causalities. Easily spotted in some cases (windbreakers with your name in big letters on the back tended to help) and not so easily for others, they were providing security to the Colonials. Of course Colonial Marines and their plains clothes security people also were deployed. The black clad and heavily armed Marines and FBI windbreakers formed an outer perimeter while the plains clothes officers of both nations were deployed inside.

None were inside the waiting room where Kara sat. It had been made clear by the pilot that she wanted to be left alone. After the attack she had not even changed out of her uniform. She sat there with blood and dust still on her greys for hours as they looked at Anders. It wasn’t until Lee had showed up that she moved. He just entered the room and looked at her then after a few moments said, “Hi.”

Starbuck got up at that point and went up to him. He held her for moments as she cried. Lee had shown up shortly after they had told her what had happened to Anders. The explosion had broken one of his legs and bruised some ribs. While bad those weren’t the biggest problem. He had suffered head trauma. Extreme pressure had been applied to his brain and skull when the blast sent him flying. They weren’t sure of the extent of the damage and would need to run further tests. Now Kara was waiting for those results.

Kara moved from the seat she had been in for over two hours and got to her knees. She pulled a figurine out of her pocket, “Lords of Kobol hear my prayer…”

…………

Admiral William Adama watched his pilot, his daughter in nearly ever sense of the word, pray inside the waiting room. It didn’t surprise him that Kara’s faith wasn’t shaken by everything that had happened, even with her ‘resurrection’ which no one could explain. Or wanted too, Admiral remembered. Dozens of test has been run on Starbuck by the Colonials and then the best doctors Earth had cobbled together. All their tests proved two things; one, she wasn’t a Cylon, and two, they had no idea how she had come back from the dead.

There was so much about the journey to Earth that couldn’t easily be explained. For example an extensive search around Earth and then the Solar System itself had revealed nothing that could have generated the signal that finally led the fleet here. If Earth was the birthplace of mankind, how did the Colonials get into space in first place? Who built the Temple of Five which showed D’Anna who the Final Five were? Just about all of these questions were shoved aside with no real answer. Adama admitted they had bigger problems to worry about.

“Admiral Adama?” a voice asked. The elder Colonial turned to see a doctor in a white coat and scrubs, “Sir Mr. Anders is awake.”

“What?” he was surprised.

The doctor explained, “We can’t explain it at the moment he came too about ten minutes ago and has stayed awake the entire time. He’s demanding to speak to you or Captain Thrace.”

Adama decided he wanted to see Anders. If Sam woke up and then something happened he didn’t want Kara to go through it. The doctor led him through the hallways into the ICU. Once inside he went over to a bed that had a large number of machines and people clustered around Sam. Anders was in hospital gown with bandages wrapped around his head. Bruises covered his legs and face. It didn’t look like he was alive, till Adama saw his eyes. They were moving and locked onto him, “Admiral…”

Adama walked over past the nurses and doctors, “I’m here.”

“Admiral you…you…need to get them all.” Anders spoke softly. While his voice was clam his eyes showed nervous energy, anxiety.

“Sam, Starbuck’s here she’s going to want to...” Sam didn’t let him finish.

“NO!” Sam exclaimed, making the machines increase their noise as his body went into acceleration. He stared into Adama’s eyes, “I know sir I know everything!”

Viper II Fan · Oct 17th 2009, 6:13pm

Chapter Eleven: Payback

Basestar Renegade
Pilot Briefing Room

“Any more questions?” the Cylon CAG asked. Her pilots all Eights and Sixes showed they were ready to go. The Six who was the CAG smiled, “Then good luck.”

The pilots got out of their seats and headed for the hanger bay. Each wore the standard black Cylon flight suit. Some of the people in the room however wore a different uniform. A group of Colonial Fleet pilots stood in the back in their ‘pilot smocks’. Two of them were Racetrack and Skulls. As part of the day’s mission, Colonial Raptor pilots were playing their role in the recon search. Flying along with the Colonials and Cylons were some CFC pilots. They wore some of the new flight suits designed on Earth using Colonial-Cylon fabric and materials technology. Dark green the Earth suits were closer in design to the Colonial ware rather than Cylons but different enough for even a casual observe to spot the differences.

The Six-CAG approached the Colonials, “Are you all set?”

Skulls gave the Cylon a sneer, “Yeah, yeah were ready to go.”

It was clear the Six was a little miffed at his reaction but decided to bite her tongue, “Fine, safe flying out there today.”

He just shrugged. Racetrack looked at her RSO after the Cylon CAG was out of earshot, “Will you stow it already.”

Her partner was taken aback, “What, you expect me to get along with damn Toasters? Just because Earth doesn’t have a problem with them doesn’t me I don’t. You know what they…”

“Yeah I do Skulls now shut the frak up and save it for when you on Galactica.” She ordered. Her RSO just shook his head and filed out of the Cylon briefing area. Margaret ‘Racetrack’ Edmondson felt a moment of regret. Just months earlier she would have felt the same thing, but then she met someone.

“Hey beautiful, going somewhere?” She heard from behind her. He wasn’t speaking Colonial Standard but English.

Turning she smiled, “Who let you aboard?”

Standing a few feet away was Captain Jeff Bernier leaning against a bulkhead. Formerly an aviator for the United States Marine Corps, like Racetrack he had flown an attack bird the prettier F/A-18 Hornet rather than a Colonial Raptor. Jeff was good looking and usually quiet. He was a great pilot easily making the transition from atmospheric to aerospace flight and combat. On his shoulders were the flag of the U.S. and the patch of the Combined Forces Command. Proudly displayed on his chest was the new Earth Viper Wings pin.

Racetrack went up and kissed him on the lips. He returned it and pushed her back gently, “Aren’t you still on duty?”

“Hey I’m about to go on a week long recon hop. I don’t get to bend the rules just a little?” Margaret asked with devious grin. Jeff laughed.

“Yeah I guess so” he answered, “Same mission as usual?”

Racetrack nodded, “Yeah. We’re going Rebel hunting, I expect the same result.”

Jeff nodded as he walked with her. For a few months now the Rebel Cylons and Galactica had been sending Heavy Raiders and Raptors out to search the nearby systems for any signs of other Rebel Cylons. It was possible to send a signal out to try and contact the Rebels however the leaders of Earth had strictly forbid any broadcast fearing that Cavil’s forces could pick up the signal or that Rebel forces would lead the Loyalists back with them. D’Anna not wanting to create a rift with Earth agreed. Thus they had to rely on recon missions. So far nothing had been found but the missions had the benefit of giving additional training to the Combined Forces and kept an eye out for the Loyalists.

“Yeah well just be nice to any of them you do find. We need all the help we can get.” Jeff told his girlfriend.

Racetrack rolled her eyes, “I thought we solved my Cylon discomfort.”

Jeff nodded. It had been a bit difficult at first. Racetrack had been a bit standoffish with him at first. Overtime they had gotten closer. Jeff had been one of the first Earth pilots to enter the Colonial training program. Together with his fellow classmates they had helped break down some of social and cultural tension between the two groups. It probably helped I lost quite a few Ambrosia drinking contests to Starbuck, Jeff thought with a smile. Eventually he and Racetrack started hanging out afterhours and soon they began to become more then friends.

During that time Jeff had run into a problem. They had paid a visit to the Cylon Basestar. Racetrack and few other Colonial pilots were less than happy that the Earth pilots were friendly with the Cylon pilots. Back on Galactica at Joe’s Bar Racetrack was cold and standoffish with Jeff. He asked what was wrong and she exploded on him damning him the Earth in general for being so chummy with the machines that murdered her family and friends.

He knew that the Cylons had received a mostly positive reception on Earth. Their technological abilities and the fact they were living machines gained them attention and admiration from people. The Colonials didn’t get any worse attention and Jeff knew it wasn’t about that. She demanded to know how he could talk and work with them knowing what they had done. He answered, “The same way I work with Japanese pilots, German Marines, hell even Russians. Nations, people change Margaret. I think the Cylons can too.”

Racetrack avoided him for a few days after that. Then one night she showed up at his bunk and said, “You think we can try this again?”

Ever since then they had been happily dating. Jeff wondered if it would go any further.

“Well we’re here.” She stated. They had arrived at one of the Cylon hanger decks. It was filled with Colonial Raptors going on the mission. Boxes of food and other supplies were laid next to each ship. Racetrack leaned over and kissed him one last time, “See you in a week.”

“Fly safe.” He answered.

“Don’t I always?” she snickered back as she walked out onto the hanger. Racetrack made sure to walk a little suggestively as she headed for her Raptor. Jeff made sure to look.

The White House
Washington D.C

Admiral William Adama entered the White House Situation Room. Around the table were the various military and civilian leaders he had come to know in the past year. President Hayes got up from her chair and shook his hand, “Hello Admiral, again let me say I’m sorry for your losses. How is Captain Thrace doing?”

“About as well as expected.” He answered. Adama was more worried about what Anders had told him. He had sent a message to Saul but didn’t know what to make of what Sam had said. I know everything, but about what? Adama wondered. He couldn’t worry about it now. After the greetings they got to the meat of why he was here.

“Admiral if you were to strike against the terrorist camps in Iran, how would you go about it?” the President asked.

Adama went over to the flatscreen mounted on the wall. His plan was already being loaded by a technician. It appeared on the screen, “The attack would be launched from Galactica. Because of the overhaul and repairs we can’t use any of its weapons. Instead Captain Agathon has drawn up a strike mission of Vipers and Raptors using precision weapons.”

Emerson watched as the screen showed which units were involved and how they would be employed. The Colonial strike would come in fast and flatten the Iranian camps, hopefully before their air defenses could get up and running. President Hayes asked a few quick questions which Adama or himself could answer. He had been studying Colonial tactics and military history for months now. Most of the books and other materials he reviewed had come from Adama actually.

“Thank you Admiral.” Hayes began, “After discussions at length with my advisors and calls to our allies aboard, we have reached a decision. We agree to your request for a retaliatory strike, however it will be limited to the camps and American pilots of the Combined Forces must participate.”

Hayes and the NSC believed it was the best way to sell the Colonial strike to the rest of the world. Talks with the Europeans, Russians, and Pacific powers had agreed that a response was needed. Of course everyone had held different opinions of what it should be. In the end it was agreed between the major powers that a limited Colonial strike was best, done with American support. This way it would seem the U.S. was taking the lead. How the strike would play in the Gulf or inside Iran itself was anyone’s guess.

Adama looked around at the table. He could see that everyone was in agreement or at least showing that. Bill knew that the Colonials couldn’t act unilaterally. The balance between sovereign power and dependent state was delicate. He knew that, Lee knew that, Laura would understand it. The question on his mind however was would Zarek?

Battlestar Galactica
FTL Engine One

It was a huge piece of machinery. The largest single piece of equipment he had ever had to learn to maintain and this was only one of them. A complete identical engine rested a few bulkheads away. It was far more complex then the engines he had worked on aboard frigates and cruisers. A long shaft with multiple moving parts and a spinning ball in the middle, all those moving parts and they actually didn’t move the ship. Hell it even made the nuclear reactor of the Carl Vision look like a simple diesel. A heavy ion collider, quark-gluon plasma injector, particle accelerator, rotating photon splinter, and a hundred other pieces of equipment went into the space folding drive of Galactica.

But this is it, this is humanity’s ticket to the stars, Lieutenant Commander Stephen Drake thought standing at the head of the machine. He was wearing a pair of green Colonial utilities covered with grease and other fluids. It had taken a month a team of Earth, Colonial, and Cylon engineers but they had done it, Both FTL drives of Galactica overhauled and upgraded with Cylon tech. It had been a strange experience watching the Cylons installs their equipment. Part machine somewhat organic, some of it had actually grown into place.

A group of Cylon grease monkeys went by him at that moment. He smiled and nodded to each one. The head Cylon engineer working with him was an Eight, “Great work Helen.”

“Thanks Commander.” She said. Just as strange and exciting as the Cylon technology was it was really interesting to see the Eight. She was completely dirty with her hair pinned up and out of the way. Her coveralls were messy but give her a few moments to clean up she’d look like a supermodel. Drake had no trouble understanding the continued offers made by Playboy, Maxim, and other magazines for a Cylon photo-shoot. So far they hadn’t taken them up on the offer.

“Commander?” he heard from behind him. Turning Drake saw it was one of the Colonials, “Chief Tyrol says he’s ready for you in ten minutes.”

He nodded, “Right thanks Petty Officer.”

Stephen followed the young Colonial out of the FTL room. After passing by the power distribution and other critical systems attached to the FTL engine, they were inside the corridors of the ship. Without thinking twice Drake began heading back to his room for a quick change of clothes. Over a year earlier he had been barely able to figure out where the CIC was let alone all the engineering sections of the ship (in fact on his first trip to the CIC he ended up walking into the junior officer’s head). However he now knew Galactica like the back of his hand.

Chief Galen Tyrol had been a big help. Essentially he had held Drake’s job during the Colonial journey to Earth. Since they had been turning the ship into a museum piece, the original Chief Engineer had been reassigned by the Colonial Fleet. Following the Holocaust none of the remaining officers were experienced enough for the job so they took their orders from Tyrol. He continued to act as Chief Engineer essentially even after members of Pegasus’s engineering crews had joined Galactica. Although the officers that were part of the engineering team should have been in charge, Admiral Adama wanted Chief Tyrol, and the Admiral usually got what he wanted.

The arrival at Earth changed that. Determined to get its people familiar with Colonial technology as quickly as possible, the CFC appointed Earth engineers and technicians to Galactica and the Renegade. Drake grew into the job of Chief Engineer since he seemed to grasp Colonial tech faster than other members of the program aboard the ship. After getting the job, he had learned a lot from Tyrol and the other engineers. He was scheduled to meet with the Chief to review the coming repairs for the week.

While changing into a clean pair of CFC greens, Drake reviewed what he wanted to cover with Tyrol. They would start adding the reinforcement and the Cylon resin commonly known to the maintenance crew as ‘Goo’ to the final sections of the ship. One of the first things that they had tackled back a few months ago was the reinforcement and repair of Galactica’s internal supports. Titanium, Cylon Resin, and soon as they were built Colonial materials, were added to the structure. Without these repairs Galactica would be unable to jump. The stressed involved in a jump would literally snap her in half.

Through hard work with the Colonials, Cylons, and best engineers Earth could muster, they were almost done. Drake was very impressed by the Cylon Goo. It would find the cracks in the Galactica’s supports, even microscopic ones, fill them and strengthen them. Although it hadn’t worked everywhere on Galactica it had bonded with about seventy percent of the ship. Now they just needed to finish the job.

Suddenly their was a buzz over the PA, “Set Condition Two, repeat set Condition Two through out the ship.”

Drake furrowed his eyebrows. The setting of Condition Two meant Galactica was getting ready for combat. He went over to his desk and pulled the phone off the bulkhead. Punching a button he heard afterwards, “CIC.”

“Hoshi, what’s going on?” he asked the TAO.

Lieutenant Hoshi answered fast, “Orders from the Admiral, prepare to launch Vipers and Raptors for a strike mission. Sounds like there is going to be retaliation for terrorist attack.”

“Right.” Stephen hung up; guess my meeting with the Chief’s off for now. Drake rushed out the door to get to his station.

Galleon City, Kobol Special Region
Okanagan Valley, British Columbia

It was a city still in its infancy. New Caprica had not gotten this far, in fact none of the Colonials who had come here even had to stay in a tent. Mobile homes and other prefab structures had been brought in from other parts of Canada but mostly from the United States. New construction was ongoing with crews from Canada to fulfill the needs of the growing area joining Colonial construction teams. Dotting the ground before and part of the rising terrain southeast of Kelowna were the first new buildings and homes of the new Colonial city.

The city of Galleon, named for the ship that brought the Twelve Tribes to the Colonies, it would now be the center for the rebirth of the Children of Kobol. Of course that was the idea. Making it happen was something that was far more difficult. Back a year ago the first problem had been the biggest argument, where should the Colonials go? Their temporary rest stop at Guam wouldn’t work. While there was room there, they would be totally dependent on the United States for food, clothes, and other supplies. Roslin before turning the presidency over to Zarek wanted to find a good spot for the Colonials to rest and try and rebuild part of their civilization where they could support themselves for the most part.

After a long search it turned out that British Columbia was the spot. First it would give them somewhere they could concentrate but not in complete isolation. Arable land would give them a chance to grow their own food. Plus the location would allow easy transport by even conventional air travel to the United States where many of the Colonial research and technology projects were underway. To get to other parts of the world the nearby airport was being expanded. At the moment it could handle Colonial shuttles and Raptors. In a few more months it would be able to support small spacecraft. The weather was acceptable to the Colonials, even after experiencing the wet winter over the past year. For the majority of the survivors of the Twelve Colonies, Galleon was the first chance they had to rest and try to rebuild their lives. It was also the arena in which Tom Zarek now served as President.

With the resignation of Laura Roslin, he had moved into position as President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol or more correctly President of the new Kobol Special Region. Canada and its province had to be heavily compensated for their buying of a chunk of their land. Plus there was the issue of people who lived in the area that the Colonials wanted to occupy. Of those who didn’t want to leave how would they function inside the Colonial zone? Also what law would prevail in the land, Canadian, Colonial? The KSR was designed to solve some of these problems along with the larger ones of sovereignty.

First the Colonials paid royalties from their selling of technologies to Earth, especially to Canada and the B.C. region. This wasn’t a problem as the Colonials were more they well compensated for their science and technology. There was enough money to even give each Colonial citizen a share of the profits similar to the way citizens of Saudi Arabia earned a share of Oil revenue. The KSR also provided services to the area like selling power to the region. A reactor from one of the scrapped ships provided more then enough power for the area.

Natives of the region were offered large payments as well to give up their land. Some did, other didn’t. The solution was to have them living inside the KSR but their properties still operated under Canadian law with the Colonials responsible for delivering services like mail, utilities, and emergency aid if needed. Finally there was the issue of sovereignty. Inside the KSR (except for Canadian holdouts) the law was the same as it had been across the Colonies on the day of the Cylon attack. The KSR could maintain agreements with other nations, trade, economic, all the usual stuff with some exceptions. Tom Zarek could not for example enter into a unilateral defense pact with the Russian Federation nor offer exclusive rights to Colonial military/space technology to Boeing Aerospace. Nor could he declare war on someone. They had land, money, and happiness, and all we had to do was give up our freedom.

To Zarek they had traded their freedom for a place to stay, nice as it is though, he thought. President Zarek lived in one of the first buildings finished for the new city. Known as Caprica House, it was the seat of the KSR government. Zarek lived in the residence while other parts of the Colonial government like The Quorum of Twelve met here or worked in the house. They had a great view of the new city and valley beyond, a view which Zarek glanced at through the window of the Quorum Room.

He was here with the Quorum to discuss the proposal put forward by the United States of America through Admiral Adama, to allow a Colonial retaliatory strike against the terrorist camp in Iran, but under their umbrella. Request of course is a nice way to put it, Zarek knew, it’s an order, our way or the highway as they say here.

“I don’t know how we can do this and appear to be nothing but a client state.” Jacob Cantrell of Sagittaron demanded to the group. Shouts of agreement and disagreement answered him.

“We have to respond if they want their pilots around and to take credit for organizing it let them!” the Caprican delegate answered.

Sarah Porter of Gemenon countered with, “Why should we appear to be puppets, we should simply strike without their approval.”

More arguments broke out over that statement. Zarek sitting at the head of the table didn’t speak but did what he was best at, watched and waited. The Quorum was new elected only a few months ago. Most were from Roslin’s previous administration but some were new and even old faces. Like Sarah Porter who had returned to politics. She originally had left the Quorum after the election of Gaius Baltar and the settlement of New Caprica. She had started to get back in however following the alliance with the Rebel Cylons. Once they had begun building the new city and held elections, Sarah ran for Gemenon’s seat. She was elected beating out the more moderate candidate and Zarek knew why, religion.

The arrival on Earth had presented the Colonials with a new history, one that said theirs was wrong. A history which claimed humans evolved on Earth. Somehow they had been brought into space, but the core of humanity came from Earth not Kobol. This combined with the fact that no major religion resembled anything close to that of the Sacred Scrolls had lead to resentment and outright hatred by the Colonial Remnant’s more hard-line religious elements. Elements like the Gemonense that took the scriptures literally.

Their beliefs had caused the most trouble in the settlement and its laws. Just about every modern culture on Earth found the idea that Gemonense children were their parents’ property to be distasteful. It had lead to many protests in America and Europe against giving the Gemonese this right in the KSR. However in the end the need to get the Colonials settled and working with the Earth nations won out. The Gemenon law was allowed.

While the law existed, it was becoming harder to actually enforce. Many older Gemonese children joined the Colonial Fleet or CFC upon reaching eighteen. Others not seeking escape through the military ran away to the Canadian portion of B.C. or even those few remaining properties with Okanagan natives inside the KSR, which operated under Canadian law. The runaway problem was large enough to have the religious Gemonese demand measures be taken to stop it. Zarek couldn’t help them. The minute one of those kids reached outside the KSR and asked for political asylum, it was usually granted.

So the Gemonese hard-liners tried to get even in other ways. They sent Truth Spreaders, or as the more polite Earth press called them ‘missionaries’ to different countries. They tried to show the Thirteenth Tribe the lies told by their religions and history. As with most people preaching something they were ignored by the world. As a result a few of these missionaries tried more direct methods. In Seattle a church was gratified, in Israel someone tried to throw blood on the Wailing Wall, another Gemonese radical had been arrested trying to enter Saudi Arabia with G4 explosives. These of course were the most extreme examples.

Zarek knew that the majority of the Colonial population was happy with their new lives. They had money, time to rebuild, and more importunately were not cramped inside spaceships on the run for their lives. Even the threat of the return of Cavil and his faction didn’t seem to dwell on them. Things were going well but that meant little to Zarek if they weren’t free to control their own density.

He knew what would happen. Despite their own city, limited sovereignty, and dream of rebuilding Colonial civilization their society would change sooner then anyone even the Gemonese realized. By necessity they would be forced to mix with Earth. This blending would see their culture change. The signs were already there, people embracing Earth food, technology, and pop culture. When he walked among the people, he saw them wearing Nikes, listening to iPods, or quoting something called ‘The Family Guy’. In a few decades they would no longer be Colonials, but members of the Thirteenth Tribe.

“If I could have the floor please?” He called out to the Quorum. They stopped talking and the chair, his Vice-President recognized him, “I know we wish to take our own action here. As a nation as a people it is our right to seek retribution; however we must work inside the framework we agreed too. For anyone who feels the need to make clear to their constituents, this strike is planned by Admiral Adama and the Colonial Fleet. The United States CFC units and conventional military forces will in essence be acting under his command. I am going to agree to the American proposal it is our best option. Now if you excuse me I need to convey this to Washington D.C.”

As he exited Zarek shared a look with Sarah Porter. She nodded in response at the Quorum moved on to debate how they should publicly respond to the coming military action. While he may have to do things the way the Americans wanted now, there were other means of showing Colonial independence, and those willing to carry it out.

Battlestar Galactica
Pilots’ Ready Room

Major Karl ‘Helo’ Agathon stood in front of the oversized seats filled with the members of the Air Wing. Behind him a projection screen was outlining the high points of his briefing. The plan was one he worked out over several hours. Hotdog, Narcho, and an American naval commander helped him. He would have loved to get Kara’s help but she was down with Sam on Earth. Can’t she catch a frakin break, Helo thought for a moment. The former RSO put the thought aside and concentrated on his job.

“Vipers will be spilt into two elements, four ships each. Hotdog you’ve got Red Flight while Frenchie has Green.” He explained. Sitting in the first row with some of the Colonial pilots and CFC pilots was Captain Jeff Bernier, Frenchie. He and six additional CFC members were part of the strike mission.

Helo clicked his control changing the image on screen, “Raptors will be Blue Flight. They are loaded with PGMs and Rocket Pods. Vipers are going to be armed with air to air weapons. If needed however I want you to be ready to respond to targets of opportunity. I’ll be in Raptor 279 call sign Watchdog providing C&C.”

Karl clicked the button on his control again bringing up high resolution pictures taken by an American satellite then by a high altitude pass by a Raptor. It laid out the terrorist camp clearly. In fact little figures carrying AK-47s and some mulling around could be seen. If he wanted too, Helo could zoom in and read the print on their Korans or newspapers.

“ROE is clear. We can level this place flat and anyone trying to escape from it. No one, I mean no one is attack anything outside the target box. Only if we are fired upon by Iranian air or ground forces do we engage them. Is that clear?” Helo looked at his pilots who nodded. The CFC pilots weren’t the ones he was worried about.

“Alright any questions?” he asked. As always there were none. Their people were too good for that, “No mistakes, good hunting, and stay safe, dismissed.”

IRIAF Tactical Fighter Base
Bandar Abbas, Iran

Colonel Farahnakian was confused. It was something that did not happen often to the man. As an officer in the Islamic Republic of Iran’s Air Force he was trained, taught to deal with confusion and work past it. Confusion was not something one gave into while piloting a MiG or F-14. Nor was it allowed on an airbase that had to run smoothly to ensure the defense of his nation. There was already enough confusion and chaos in Iran these days. With people clamoring against the Mullahs and the President the risk of that breaking out into conflict, of a civil war. There was too much confusion and the last thing they needed was a war with America. Which is what looks like what is coming, he thought, but where are they? Where are the cruise missiles the bombs, what the hell is going on?

An hour ago his radar screens had shown a growing number of American naval aircraft. F/A-18 Hornets and F-35 Lightings had formed combat formations in Arabian Sea south of the Straight of Hormuz. They were also mixed in with EF-18 Growlers, electronic warfare planes. Just as the fact was reported to him, their screens were covered with static and interference, jamming. He reported this to the air defense command in Tehran.

They ordered him to put his fighters, a squadron of old F-4Es left over from the days before the Revolution on alert. Already a CAP of six planes flew over the city’s port, while another four were over the airbase. The remaining Phantoms sat on base loaded and ready to fight. The only problem was where were the Americans?

If they were going to attack his command should have already been hit by Tomahawk cruise missiles fired from the ships and submarines in the Arabian Sea. Or his CAP fighters should have reported contact either with their own radar or visually with the American Hornets and Lightings. A check with the SAM batteries in the area confirmed they had not been hit yet either.

As his staff worked inside the operations center he pulled a telephone closer to him. Quickly dialing he got the commander of the airbase at Bushehr. The commander a friend of his informed him that he too was blanketed by electronic jamming. He had detected F-16s flying out of Iraq along with F-15s from Kuwait. Then his screens were filled with white noise. The three squadrons under his command were preparing for combat as well.

Farahnakian struggled to come up with an answer. They are blanketing our screens with jamming, have launched strike aircraft and fighters, but have yet to attack? He looked at a map of the country posted on the wall. It was just an air navigation one but it got him thinking. All of the American warplanes are deployed along our coast, to the south and west but nothing from the west or…

He realized what was going on and yelled for someone to get him the air defense command.

Blue Flight
Over Western Iran

Four Viper Mk VIIIs screamed down from orbit. Not far from them were two Viper Mk IIs and another pair of Mk VIIs. Behind them were the six Colonial Raptors carrying the bombs and missiles they prepared to unleash against the target below. The Zagros Mountains went down the entire length of the Iranian-Iraqi border. About two hundred miles south of the city of Tabriz, high in the mountains lay the terrorist camp which held elements of Al-Qaeda. The camp approved by hard-line elements of the Iranian government thought that it would give them two things. First was a pool of fighters that could be called upon to fight against growing dissident protests inside the country. The Mullahs were losing faith in the ability of the Iranian security forces to maintain order.

Several bloody clashes with protestors had lead to low morale inside the military. While there were careful controls over the armed forces, how long would those hold up. How long before the military decided the people were right and turned their guns against the Mullahs? Using Al-Queda inducted thugs to do the dirty work removed this problem. The camp was also seen as a means to strike back against the United States or Europe if it was necessary. Of course they hadn’t considered the idea that the Americans would strike first.

Captain Jeff ‘Frenchie’ Bernier had four Viper Eights flying in formation with him. Green flight was entirely CFC pilots and all Americans, another Marine and two Navy flyers. They were loaded for air to air action which Jeff didn’t expect. If everything went close to the plan they would be out of there before the nearest Iranian fighter base in Tabriz could react. Of course nothing ever goes to plan, he knew.

“Frenchie, Watchdog, sky is clear assume CAP over target. Hotdog you and Red cover Blue, Hermit get your bombs ready.” Helo ordered over the radio.

“Roger that Watchdog, Spade, Joker, Boxer on me. Keep an eye on that DRADIS.” Jeff called out to his flight.

The four Earth made Vipers hovered high over the area while the rest of the Colonial strike group descended. Hotdog leading the remaining Vipers could see the camp lit below as the rapidly lost attitude. No doubt their sonic booms of re-entry could be heard. Helo was riding in the back of his command Raptor knew they were made. His Raptor was outfitted with a recon camera set. The cameras a combo of Colonial and American tech were excellent. He could switch between night vision, thermal, and even a DRADIS generated picture if he wanted. Through this powerful optics he saw the camp personnel scattering. Thermal outlines of people ran to warming trucks and vehicles.

“Hermit the target is awake and ready to scoot, tell me you can shoot?” Helo called out.

Leading the procession of heavily armed Raptors was First Lieutenant Sally ‘Hermit’ Wills. Formerly a U.S. Navy F-35 pilot she was one of the first CFC Raptor Wranglers. Her ship was loaded with missiles, rockets, and guns just like the other strike Raptors. She glanced back to her RSO/Bombardier Flying Officer Peter ‘Deadeye’ Sims of the Royal Air Force.

“Ready to go Hermit.” He said. Peter had locked on his Hades multipurpose missiles. The weapons vaguely resembling Hellfire missiles were on racks under the belly of the Raptor.

She called back to Helo, “Master Arm is on, locked and cocked Helo.”

Helo got similar replies from his other CFC and Colonial Raptor crews. He gave the order, “Fire.”

Deadeye his hand on the weapon stick that stuck out of the RSO station in front of him pulled the trigger. Hermit felt the Raptor lighten as the missiles streaked off their rails and flew downwards. As some of the Raptors fired the Hades missiles other dropped Colonial versions of the JDAM. The bombs fell thanks to gravity with their tail fins being moved to guide them into the GPS coordinates programmed in their computer chip brains.

The terrorists below were rushing to leave the camp, but the Colonial strike was too quick. Several Hades missiles slammed into the main building in the camp. Dozens of the fighters were cut down as the building exploded sending pieces of stone and shrapnel everywhere. The powerful unrefined tylium based warheads leveled the building and killed senior Al-Qaeda members inside. Men who had survived Afghanistan, Iraq, and numerous other American or Allied strikes were cut down in milliseconds by the Colonial weapons.

Buildings and areas suggested by recon to be hardened in some way received a PGB. The Colonial JDAMs punched through the harder rock or building structures blowing up only when they were inside. Helo watched as a massive explosion erupted out of tunnel built into the side of the mountain top the camp was on. Guess that was the ammo bunker, he thought. Karl didn’t linger on the destruction below him for long.

“We’ve got vehicles moving, trying to go for the road. Ginger!” he called another Raptor.

The Colonial pilot responded, “Got them Helo going in.”

A Raptor dropped lower and lined up on the targets. Two pickup trucks and four trucks were burning rubber to reach the mountain road out of the camp. Ginger flicked a switch on his command stick and brought up a targeting screen. His RSO gave him control of the big rocket boxes mounted to side of the Raptor. Once he had the road and trucks in his sights, Ginger fired.

One of the drivers of the pickup saw the Colonial craft coming down on him. He served to the right to try and get out of the way but it was too late. Fire and smoke erupted from the back of the boxes. Free flight rockets zoomed out from the pods and down onto the escaping terrorists. The lead vehicle was caught by three rockets which exploded by or over it. Shrapnel and fire ripped the civilian pickup apart. With in second the length of the road leading back to the camp entrance was blasted. All of the escaping vehicles were gone.

Helo now had new targets for his pilots, “Blue Flight we have personnel escaping up the hill, line up for gun runs and rocket strikes.”

…………..

“Frenchie, Spade we’ve got company.” Jeff checked his DRADIS screen picking up what his wingman was reporting, “Four bandits, no wait make that six coming down from Tabriz.”

“I’ve got them. Green Flight, break into pairs but don’t leave your wingmen. Warm up your weapons but keep them on safe. Maybe these guys will bug out.” Jeff ordered.

The Vipers broke into pairs and turned to face the oncoming IRIAF fighters. Three MiG-29 Fulcrums and three F-5s from the TFB Tabriz had been airborne at the time of the alert. Once news of the attacking Colonial fighters was received they were ordered to speed to an area over the mountains. However the pilots did not know of the terrorist training camp. They assumed the Colonials were attacking them in conjunction with the Americans.

Jeff’s RWR began to beep. He was being painted by the Iranians, time to return the favor. Hopefully they’d bug out once they had been targeted by the unfamiliar DRADIS system. The IRIAF MiGs and F-5s picked up the signal but didn’t quite know what to make of it. They pressed on anyway, after all they had no choice orders were orders. They armed their long range missiles.

“Their painting us now, I’ve got fire control radars.” Red Four warned the flight. Jeff swore.

“Shit okay let’s do it.” He quickly gave the engagement order and plan. The Vipers all separated slightly then hit the throttles. They shot forward instantly to Mach 3 then went up to Mach 6, a fraction of their top speed. However they were faster then the IRIAF fighters and their weapons. The first MiG was firing at a target already gone.

Frenchie closed on his target a MiG-29. In just a few seconds he was in weapons range. He had chosen to attack with this speed move and then their 30mm guns to impress the disadvantage the Iranians were at. The Helmet Mounted Display tracked his head movement with that of his cannon. Like an AH-64 pilot he could hit something offline with the nose of the aerospace craft. With the MiG in front of him he didn’t need to adjust much. Jeff squeezed the trigger.

The cannon barked with its rounds. Hot gasses and fire left the RMK weapon as it sent bright orange tracers at the Iranian MiG. He didn’t know what hit him. Rounds ripped through the MiG-29 cooking off the internal fuel tanks. The pilot died without even realizing he was under attack till the last moment. Another MiG and two F-5s blew apart as the other American Viper pilots hit their targets.

“Sit Rep!” Frenchie demanded.

“Two good, all systems green”
“Three that’s a kill.”
“Four got the guy, they’re turning.”

Jeff glanced at the DRADIS and saw the remaining IRIAF fighters maneuvering trying to figure out what had happened. He pulled his Viper around and lined up on them weapons ready. He was willing to give them a chance to break away. Regrettably they weren’t going to take him up on that offer. The remaining MiGs and lone F-5s turned to reengage them.

“Red Flight, lock them up and fire.” They armed their AIM-19 Copperheads. A heat seeker it had longer range then conventional IR weapons. They locked up the IRIAF planes at a distance of twenty miles. Each Viper Eight fired one Copperhead. The missiles streaked in fast. Spotting them the IRIAF fighters began to maneuver firing flares and turning on their ECM neither worked against the American/Russian/Colonial weapons. A series of explosions lit up the sky all three planes were down.

Jeff checked in with Helo.
……………..

Helo received Frenchie’s report and ordered him to maintain the CAP. He sent two of Hotdog’s Viper flight to reinforce Red Flight incase more Iranian planes showed up. He didn’t fear a small number of planes but every one of the fighters in northern Iran showing up. It was time to leave.

“Blue Flight clean it up.” He ordered.

The Raptors of Blue Flight had strafed and bombed the side of the mountain above and below the camp. Dozens of terrorists had simply run for the hills hoping to escape the Colonials. Their bodies however glowed in the thermal sights of the Raptors as they scrambled over the cold ground. It made them easy targets. While the CFC pilots went about their work in a very methodical manner the Colonials took satisfaction at picking off the men. Raptors used their wingtip mounted mini-guns against individuals and final rocket salvos against larger groups.

Here the terrorists fought back. Trying to fire AKs or RPGs up at the attacking Colonials was useless. Even on gun runs they were too high. Only an attack by hand held SAMs proved to be a threat. The Raptors avoided the attack and ripped into the crew with their guns. After this last act of resistance it was over in moments.

“All planes this is Watchdog, mission complete, back to the bucket.” Helo sent. The Raptors and Vipers returned to their original formation but climbed this time. Karl sent out the coded success signal. One went to Galactica while the other went to the United States Central Command headquarters in Qatar.

Viper II Fan · Nov 15th 2009, 6:57pm

Chapter Twelve: Illumination

Johns Hopkins Hospital
Baltimore, Maryland

Starbuck was still at his side. She was asleep collapsed on the side of his bed her head resting on a crook in her arm. Kara’s other hand held his. Sam smiled looking at her, the earlier morning light glowing on her hair. He had just awakened himself a few moments earlier. While asleep his mind exploded with images, thoughts, and knowledge. Sam had always had this feeling that there was more. Trying to find it through sports, women, and even combat had not worked. Funny all it took was being blown up, he thought.

“Kara.” He said softly. She didn’t stir. He leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. Suddenly the pilot woke and looked at him.

“Sam…” she whispered. Seeing that he was awake she shot up and leaned into him. They shared a deep kiss. He could feel tears running down her cheeks onto his face.

Finishing the kiss he held her face, “Kara it’s wonderful.”

“I know…” she started, “You’re alive I’m…”

“No.” he stopped her, “You don’t understand, the knowledge, what I’ve learned the revelations. You have to get the others Saul, Galen, Tory, Ellen.”

Starbuck looked at him dumbstruck. It was the first time he was awake in hours and he wanted to talk about the Five? Part of her wanted to scream at him for that but she just said calmly, “Ellen’s gone Sam remember?”

He blinked a few times as if he was catching up on time. Sam nodded, “You’re right, but you need to get the others Kara, a wonderful thing has happened. I remember everything.”

Kara didn’t want this, “Sam this is not the time. You need to rest the doctors are still worried, I’m worried. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Kara, Starbuck, I need to do this. Please you know what it’s like when you feel you have to do something. Please.”

Starbuck looked at him she saw it. In his eyes was the same gleam she had in her own back on the Demetrius. She kissed him again and walked back towards the nurses’ station. There she asked for phone. Dialing she waited a few moments then spoke, “Admiral I need you to get the Colonel and the others.”

Cylon Consultant
New York City

New Yorkers in their ability to get use to anything had long accepted the large metallic robots standing outside the Cylon Consultant in NYC. In fact they were so accepted that someone was calling for some of the things to be deployed with the NYPD. The alderman figured that the Centurions would cut down on purse snatchings and crime in general. He cited the complete drop of crime near the Cylon building. Tory Foster however believed that had to do with the increased NYPD and American Marines that acted also as guards outside the Consultant.

She had walked by the Centurions and Marines heading into work. The head Marine on duty smiled politely to her and they made some small talk as she checked in. Once she was done Tory walked inside. Waiting at the main desk was an Eight named Carrie. She handed Tory a folder with all her appointments for the day. Tory thanked her and pulled out the schedule reading as she headed for the elevator. She could see the theme of the day was medicine. All of her meetings were with different biotech companies and other medical companies today. This was part of their continuing technology deals between Earth and the Rebel Cylons.

When they had begun negotiations with Earth, D’Anna and Tory knew they needed to offer a lot of technology to them in order to guarantee their rights and security. Even though the Thirteenth Tribe did not have the resentment that the Colonies felt to them but things needed to be done to prevent that resentment from even arising. So the Cylons decided to shower them with gifts and cooperation. It’s always about the cubits, or in this case the ‘Benjamins’, Tory thought with a smile. Their strategy had worked.

They already had various defense contracts producing FTL engines, new electronic warfare systems, missiles, and other special weapons for the CFC, however some of the first Cylon commercial products would soon start showing up around the world. Yesterday Tory and a Leoben had visited Microsoft’s headquarters in Redmon, Washington. In just a few weeks a new handheld computer system would start hitting shelves in tech stores. Tory had met with the company’s leadership to work out some last minute details.

Biotechnology that the Cylons processed was the newest area for exploitation. Their knowledge of cell growth alone was worth billions on Earth. Three different companies today wanted to talk to her about applying the regeneration ability of Cylon ships to human body parts. Tory did find the idea appealing; humans with lost limbs could have them truly replaced. She was less pleased at the companies that wanted to talk about Resurrection, especially since we have nothing to say about it.

Arriving at her office Tory placed the schedule down on her desk. She took a moment to look at the city. It was different then her old home, Caprica City but in a way similar. It seemed older but also just as alive, it was something she liked. When they had first arrived Tory had spent most of her time on the Baseship. At first it was to get a better understanding of the Cylons, of herself. Then as they began to buy living space on Earth D’Anna asked if she would take the head position at a new consultant they were building in America.

Getting the place set up, working with Earth companies, and doing things to ensure they were accepted by human society had consumed her schedule. Mostly it involved appearing at functions with world and business leaders. They had also donated portions of their growing wealth to charitable groups. A group of Twos and Sixes were working applying Cylon organic growth biotech to different corps. They believed it as a way to solve hunger problems in the poorer nations on the planet. Things like this helped ease peoples’ fears about the Cylons.

All this kept Tory busy, but didn’t really help her. While helping ensure their survival and existence on Earth was important, it was not what she wanted. Tory wanted answers. While Tigh, Tyrol, and Anders had rejected their Cylon nature she embraced it. As a result she wanted to know more. Where did she come from for example? The Rebels had little to no information about the Final Five in their database. For so long they had followed their orders to not think about the Five the Rebels had little information about them. D’Anna hadn’t been much help either. She had only seen their faces and that of Ellen Tigh in the temple on the Algae Planet other than that she had learned nothing.

So Tory in her free time searched Colonial, Cylon, and even Earth history for answers. This too had yielded little. The Scrolls of Kobol were questionable to begin with since Earth history showed they were wrong. Only small bits and pieces with small references to the Five existed in the Cylon Database. Those she had only been able to find after a deep search of the data-stream with others Cylons for help. One of the Eights helping her made it sound like the information had been erased and fragmented many times possibly on purpose, but by whom?

Tory was turning on her Cylon designed PC when the phone rang she answered it on the second ring, “Tory Foster….Colonel? Yes I heard about Sam…he’s awake?”

She listened as he explained. Her eyes widened, “I’ll be right there.” Hanging up on the Colonel she then called Carrie, “Carrie I need a car to take me to the airport now.”

Cavil’s Basestar
Loyalist Controlled Space

The music playing was softly in the room. One of the few creature comforts she had been provided a small music player. A collection of records provided, probably stolen from the ruins of the Colonies was her selection. Most of it she hated but there were a few selections to her liking. This one was a soft melody with a piano background. Ellen found it relaxed her. She was further calmed by the body exercises she preformed.

“Why are we doing this again?”

Ellen looked over her shoulder. Standing in exercise clothes next to her was Boomer. She followed Ellen’s movements matching them exactly but not understanding them or the purpose, “It is an ancient art. To provide relaxation to body and mind, and focus our thoughts.” Ellen explained to the girl she couldn’t help but think of as a daughter.

Boomer shook her head, “Useless.”

Ellen bent over stretching her back muscles, “Focus brings our mind clarity. Once we have that we can see ourselves Sharon, reflect and considered what and who we are.”

Sharon looked at her and stopped the exercises, “What we are? We’re machines.”

Ellen pulled herself up into a standing position and then turned to Boomer, “Is that what John’s been telling you? It’s that simple.”

“He is teaching me to be a better machine.” Boomer answered automatically like, like a machine.

“Really and how does one do that?” The Final Cylon asked. Boomer didn’t answer just returning Ellen’s stare. Ellen went over to her small night table and poured herself a drink. Taking the liquor and sipping it she sat on her bed, “Boomer you know why the Centurions asked to have flesh and blood bodies, why your ancestors wished to evolve beyond what they were?”

“Because they had misconceptions placed upon them by the Final Five our rebel brothers and sisters place so much faith in.”

Ellen looked over her shoulder to see John standing there. Cavil looked worse every time she saw him. His eyes were sunk into their sockets, his movements were slow, and just a general feeling of fatigue radiated from him. The only thing that remained unchanged was his defiance and arrogance.

“They were given this bizarre idea of God and somehow human flesh connects us to him. Crap utter crap.” Cavil complained.

“Oh please John, they already believed in the One True God. We didn’t force any beliefs on them. We only asked one thing from the Centurions, we imparted no ideas, no commands.” Ellen countered.

Cavil laughed, “Yes an even bigger mistake was having them end the war before the job was done. Another flaw of yours I corrected.”

Boomer knew it was a mistake made by Ellen as soon as she said it but kept quiet as she always did during these talks, “Not quite. I seem to remember a ship called Galactica and the civilians it guards.”

“A loose end that would have been corrected long ago except I’ve been dealing with this little Civil War for the past year. Another ‘gift’”, Cavil mimicked the quotes with his fingers, “From my creators.”

Ellen just stared at him.

Johns Hopkins Hospital
Baltimore, Maryland

He was pacing back and forth. Tory watched him and wished he would stop it was irritating. Galen didn’t say anything just sitting there waiting like the rest. One minute he had been working on the Vipers and Raptors that had participated in the strike against Iran. Then the Colonel yanked him off that and they got on a Raptor headed for Langley AFB. They were met there by Tory and he knew what it meant, Final Five business.

Colonel Tigh just kept pacing in the waiting room. Adama before the attack had given him the news that Anders was awake and babbling about something. He had forgotten about it getting involved with the retaliatory strike. He hadn’t remembered it until Adama called and told him about Starbuck’s message. Sam needed to talk to all of them. Tigh didn’t want to be here but Kara had insisted. There was too much going on for him to waste time dealing with his status as a member of the ‘Final Five’.

Tigh had enough on his plate being the acting commander of Galactica. Bill had his hands full working on integrating then in with the Combined Forces and developing their technology. If the Cylons showed up Adama would take command of Galactica but till that time came, Tigh was running the ship. Helo was acting as his XO. Much to Tigh’s surprise they actually worked well together despite their previous history. Maybe the changes of the past year played their role. Being a father certainly had.

His and Caprica Six’s baby, Liam was a miracle. Tigh didn’t give a crap about the fact it was the first ‘Cylon’ child to be born, it was his son. After years of trying with Ellen to finally have a son was overwhelming. Painful memories came back to Saul. Of his wife, the woman he loved despite all her faults all the fights, he loved her. Is that why I don’t want to be here? Ellen?

The doors to the intensive care wing opened. All of them looked at Starbuck as she stood there in the doorway. She wore a pair of hospital scrubs and it was clear she hadn’t left the hospital in a while. Tigh could see despite her request that they come it wasn’t her idea. The look she gave them showed it, “Sam’s ready for you.”

Tory and Galen went first with Tigh taking up the rear. Starbuck however grabbed him before he passed. She said, “He’s still weak. The doctors are worried, the moment he starts having trouble, this is over.” Tigh said nothing showing his understanding with a nod. Kara let him go and together they walked inside.

The nurses and doctors inside the ICU all gave them a stare. Who and what they were was well known. Tory noticed that none of the looks were hostile just curious ones. A short walk brought them to Sam’s room. He was laying upright in the bed, which was angled so he could appear sitting upright. Starbuck went and stood by the window while the others stood around Sam’s bed.

“Hey Sam, how are you feeling?” Galen asked.

He smiled, “Wonderful Galen, Tory, Saul; it’s great to see you all.”

Tight grunted, “Glad to see the Earth docs are taking care of you.”

“Alright enough of the small talk, Sam. Why did you want to see us?” Tory just about demanded. She ignored the look that Kara gave her. Tyrol and Tigh recognized it as the one Starbuck got right before she slugged someone.

Sam looked at Kara and with his expression asked her to calm down. Starbuck nodded and crossed her arms. Tory however was the target of a continued scowl. Sam ignored this and focused back at them.

“I remember why we’re here.”

Cavil’s Basestar

Ellen had changed into some new clothes. Boomer had gone off to do the same leaving her alone with Cavil. Of course he didn’t allow her the privacy she deserved, he watched her change. Ellen knew John’s routine. He had come down here to berate her about something, “What is it now John.”

“Another two baseships were lost today, three thousand causalities. Over a thousand of the Fours, Fives, and my brothers were so badly wounded we had to kill them out of mercy.” He explained.

“I’m sorry John, I am. What would you like me to do about it?”

Cavil paced and talked his hands in his pockets, “Tell me what I want to know.”

Ellen shook her head, “It’s been almost two years now John. I told you I cannot give you the secret of resurrection. It took me and the others over two years to get it working. I need them to even think about working on it.”

“You’re lying.” Cavil answered. Ellen recognized the default response.

“John I’ve been locked up in this room the entire time since the exodus of New Caprica. Don’t you think that I would have given you what you wanted by this point?”

“No.” he turned and looked at her. Walking slowly towards her as he talked, “You would rather see me lose every last Cylon till it’s just me and your precious Five. Just to prove a point to me Ellen. You’re children are dying and you won’t lift a finger to save us.”

Ellen turned away from his vengeful look. She looked at the floor and closed her eyes. He didn’t know that she thought all the suffering the Cylons were enduring was eating her up. Her children were dying, but not because of her, “You have only one person to blame for this mess John, yourself.”

Cavil became livid, “Oh no you don’t. This isn’t my fault it’s yours. You were trying to fulfill some ridiculous notions of life and God’s plan. Where has it gotten us Ellen? The Cylon race fractured our own existence threatened. You’ve screwed it all up just like your forefathers did on Terra.”

Ellen finally looked back at John. She was about to answer when, “What’s Terra?”

Both of them turned to see Sharon. She had returned to the room. Cavil was going to say something by Ellen beat him too it, “It’s my home Sharon, or was.”

Cavil had been taken by surprise by his pet Eight’s return. At first he was going to tell her to get lost, but then he decided to let her stay. “A monument to a dead civilization asking to fail before it could even begin.” Cavil added his own analysis.

Ellen stood and walked around her bed speaking to Sharon as she moved, “What do you know about Kobol and its history?” Sharon gave her the basic answers that any Colonial would know. She then added in what the Cylons thought about Kobol, how it wasn’t a paradise but a moment to human sin and their false gods.

“I’ve always been amazed at how history has changed over time. How stories evolve, facts become faith, myth was informed by truth, and lies become scripture. Boomer Kobol was not the home of humanity. Never was. It was the home of the Lords of Kobol but they weren’t Gods. No one was really sure what they actually were. That information was gone long before I was ever born. All I know is what was taught to me in school.”

Ellen now stood next to Boomer. Cavil just sat on the bed; he would be quiet for now, besides he did like this particular bed time story, “The Lords were dying. Who knows why maybe a disease maybe it was just their time to pass on. Before they died out though they were determined to have their legacy live on, it’s quite human actually, they didn’t wish to be forgotten. So they began a search.” Ellen then reached out and touched Boomer’s hand.

Sharon was suddenly sucked into a projection. It was of the story Ellen told. Unlike other projections this was a series of images or film clips. They went by one after another narrated by Ellen. The first was of the Galaxy then open space and finally the ships. Boomer couldn’t describe them they weren’t human or Cylon, they seemed to be made of lights only once did she glimpse something that might have been crystal or glass. Planets filled her vision as Ellen spoke.

“They searched the Galaxy for a species, for someone to take up their legacy. Some of the developed species they found were unacceptable. However they found a species to take up their legacy.” An image of a primitive form appeared. Boomer realized it was some early form of humanity.

Ellen continued, “They took some of these primitives, thousands of them maybe fewer no one has ever been sure. They thought that there was potential in this species. So the Lords accelerated their evolution maybe even made more of them. Eventually Boomer they became what we know as humans. They lived on Kobol with the Lords learning their secrets, science, technology, and views of the universe. Then the time came and the Gods died.”

Boomer was treated to images of the cities on Kobol, filled with grieving humans. Soon the Lords were memorialized and a new series of images showed the creation of a religion one centered on the Lords of Kobol. Ellen continued to explain, “Eventually the Lords became Gods, Aries, Jupiter, Athena all of them incorporated into a new religion. More time passed and the humans became more and more familiar with their technology. Soon they tried to do what their creators had done in a fashion with them.”

“They played God, created life.” Cavil interrupted. Ellen and Boomer broke out of their shared projection. He just smiled at them.

Johns Hopkins

Galen was confused. Tory was in awe. Tigh didn’t know what to think. Starbuck just stared at Anders her mouth opened in speechlessness. Sam looked at her with pity, “I’m sorry Kara but it’s true.”

Tyrol shook his head, “Sam, are you saying that the primitives the Lords of Kobol found, they came from Earth? The precursors to human beings?”

He nodded, “It’s the only thing that makes sense. They came here at sometime before humanity had really grown, thousands maybe hundreds of thousands of years ago. They used their technology their knowledge to accelerate what nature would do in time. Meanwhile the humans on Earth took the slow path. That’s why they are no were behind the Colonies technologically. They are taking the slow path, why the Children of Kobol had help.”

“But where do we fit in?” Tory asked.

“The humans on Kobol marveled at their brilliance. How they were living up to the dreams of the Gods. So they decided to do what the Gods had done, create life.” Anders continued.

Tigh’s eye opened wide, “You mean they created Cylons?”

“Yes not the mechanical kind Saul but humanoid ones like us and the seven we fought. They intend us to be their ultimate achievement. However the first Cylons weren’t didn’t equal but their tools.”

Tyrol said, “Slaves? They used the Cylons as slaves?”

“Essentially the human race on Kobol became corrupt. Cylons were used to maintain their cities the technologies of the Lords. What they didn’t expect was that they would develop our own beliefs and culture. A whole new society created by the Cylons existed. They knew the true history of the Lords through the records contained in computers on Kobol, that they weren’t Gods. They also discovered the love of the one God...” Anders explained.

Tory knew what happened next, almost as if she could remember it for herself, “It led to war.”

Anders shook his head, “The cycle of violence began. Humans began to fear Cylons as they continued to develop. Plus they were horrified by the thought of one God rather than the many. Eventually they began to eliminate Cylons, they fought back. Eventually the Cylons on Kobol gained their freedom. They took ships into space and left Kobol for a world to call their own.”

“Wait a minute…that means…” Galen started.

“The Thirteenth Tribe, the real one, was a tribe of Cylons.” Kara finished her face pale.

Sam nodded, “Our people left Kobol. The humans lived there by themselves but things were getting worse. They began to have divisions form in their society. Splits based on wealth, differences in the religion, fights for the resources left by the Lords. More war broke out. Eventually Kobol was ruined. They had to leave, just as the Cylons had.”

“So they left and settled on the Colonies.” Kara said. Her husband nodded.

“The Cylons traveled far across space leaving the beacon at the Lion’s Head Nebula.” Everyone listened closely to Anders, “It was actually meant as a warning to the Children of Kobol. To broadcast a message if a human ship approached, leave us alone. I guess by time the Fleet got there it had malfunctioned so it was no longer transmitting. They eventually ended up on the Algae Planet.”

“The Temple of Five, the Eye of Jupiter.” Galen added.

“Actually it’s called the Temple of Hopes. They built it as they stopped and rest. Praying for guidance they were rewarded. God showed them a world, a home to call their own.” Sam added, “Following God’s vision they eventually arrived at the new planet. The Cylons named it Terra.”

“Son of a bitch” Tigh exclaimed, “You’re telling me were from another planet, of toasters?”

“Yes Saul we were all born on Terra.” Sam answered. Starbuck came over and got closer to him she was fixated on what Sam was saying. She was the first to notice the use of language.

Tory was the next, “Wait a minute…you said born?”

Cavil’s Basestar

“Terra was beautiful Boomer. Pretty, like Caprica with great oceans and green fields. I loved to take walks along the boardwalk with Saul.” Ellen reflected on memories past. Sharon was shown a city with large skyscrapers surrounded by water. She was then shown a memory of Saul and Ellen. Before more could be revealed an angry laugh interrupted the projection.

“Really care to share what it was actually like when our ancestors showed up?” Cavil remarked. He walked over to the two and spoke, “Hard land, cold winters, and those pesky ocean storms. It wasn’t that pretty place she showed you at first.”

Ellen sighed, “No that took years, hundreds of them to achieve and not on our own.”

“Yeah it helps when you have someone else around to do the hard work, like say a Cylon.” Cavil smirked.

Boomer knew where this was heading, “You created Cylons, to be your slaves?”

“I’m not proud of that. But my ancestors were finding it difficult to survive. So they cannibalize their ships and built what you and the Colonials would call Centurions. Those first models helped my people cultivate the land, get vital materials, and allowed them to prosper. Eventually it just became too easy to use them.” Ellen sadly explained.

Cavil jumped at the opportunity to sink his claws into Ellen’s disappointment, “They made the same arrogant mistake that the humans on Kobol and those on the Colonies did. One of arrogance that the ends justified the means, it’s what led to their downfall.”

Boomer again knew what had happened, “They rebelled didn’t they?”

“All this has happened before, all this will happen again. I’m sorry to say despite our belief in God that principle of Colonial faith seems to apply. Our Centurions grew in intelligence as we made them more complex. It took far longer than it did on the Colonies but eventually our models evolved past their basic programming. They resented their place in our society hated that they were less than us. So the Centurions began to plan, building up their supply of weapons and crafting bombs very powerful ones.” Ellen explained with a sadness that gripped her mind, so many mistakes.

Cavil smiled, “And they waited till the time was right and finally in a day of atomic fire and bloodshed they burned every city on Terra and the humanoid Cylons within. I would have loved to see it.”

Boomer ignored Cavil much more interested in the obvious question, “If they destroyed the planet, how did you survive?”

“Through the kindness of God Sharon.” Ellen answered.

Johns Hopkins

“We all worked in the same research facility. You and Ellen were married even back then.” Sam told them. Each of the Final Four was shocked at the news, that they came from a world founded by Cylons then destroyed by their mechanical cousins. Tory was the first to ask how they survived, “Tory you and Galen lived together, were planning on getting married.”

Tyrol looked at her and they both shared the same look, really? Galen then moved on, “What research facility?”

“One that worked on applying the knowledge and technology left by the Lords of Kobol, you were great at taking things apart and finding out how they worked.” Sam smiled at the memory. Tyrol just shook his head thinking, this is too frakin much at once.

Tigh had the next question, “What does this facility have to do with us surviving the destruction of that place, and getting to Colonies with no memories?”

Sam asked Kara for a drink. She gave him a water bottle with a plastic tube in it. He sipped the water quickly. Quietly she asked, “Do you need a break?”

“No...I have to get keep going.” He said, and then turned back to the Five, “We all had visions. I saw a woman, Tory you a man. Galen you worried something had happened to you that someone put a chip in your head. But we were convinced that it wasn’t something simple, no insanity to technology because we all shared it, the warning.”

“From who?” Kara asked.

“The one true God Kara. He showed us what was coming and warned that there was little time to finish it before it was too late.”

“Finish what?” Tigh growled growing impatient.

“Resurrection. Organic Memory Transfer, it was a technology our people used all the way back on Kobol. You see the first Cylons couldn’t reproduce either. They used this technology to preserve the species. However after reaching Terra they were able to have children. Once Cylons could reproduce the technology fell into disuse, eventually forgotten.” Sam closed his eyes thinking about it. He could remember them discussing it then images of their hectic work came to him.

“We worked night and day to complete it. Ellen...Ellen she made the final breakthrough.” Sam said looking at Saul, “You were so proud of her.”

Tigh didn’t say anything, lost in thought trying to imagine his wife as a scientist. Tory pressed on her mind racing with the possibilities, “So we had resurrection, when the bombs went off we downloaded, but where?”

“A ship we placed in orbit. Galen got it for us. We loaded it with supplies and prepared for a long journey. You see the Cylons abandoned FTL engines once they reached Terra. All we had was some small settlements around the system. The Centurions went after those as well. Our ship managed to escape, just barely.

“Without FTL we’d have to travel normally, my gods that means.” Galen started which Sam finished.

“Time slowed down for us. Years passed by on Earth and the Twelve Colonies. Which means we were too late.”

“Late for what?” Tigh asked coming back into the conversation.

Sam shook his head, “The vision God gave also included a request. That we warn the other Tribes the dangers of creating artificial life, to treat them as equals and break the cycle of slavery, evolution, and violence that started on Kobol. However it took too long for us to back track the route. When we arrived the Colonies were already at war with the Cylons they created. If we didn’t do something the two would destroy each other eventually.”

“What did we do?” Tory asked.

Sam pointed to himself, “I managed to contact the Centurions. Once they believed we were Cylons they let us meet their leaders, the IL Models. We were surprised to learn they believed in the one God like us. They also showed us the hybrids they were creating and that they wanted flesh bodies. So Saul you gave them our proposal.”

“What? What the hell did I offer those damn toasters?” Tigh had too many memories of that war, memories that were false. How did I get them then, what the frak is he talking about, Tigh fumed.

“You gave them a deal. End the war with humanity and we’d give them humanoid bodies like ours.” Sam answered.

“Why the hell did they agree to that?” Galen inquired.

“They believed that processing flesh and blood bodies would bring them closer to God. That they would be better, I know it sounds crazy but it’s true. They agreed and signed the armistice with the Colonies. Then we left Colonial space together and settled on what ended up being called the Colony.” Sam had visions of an asteroid, featureless at first. Then Cylons of all shapes and sizes climbed over it transforming it into something more.

“My Gods...” Kara stepped away from them all. Sam looked at her with sympathy he knew what was coming; it still hurt though to hear her say it. Starbuck gripped by shocked then suddenly turned very angry she looked at them all with hate, “It’s your entire fraking fault, the gods damned skin-jobs, the holocaust; it’s all because of YOU!”

Everyone heard the outburst in the ICU Ward, including the CIA officer who was monitoring the hidden cameras and mikes in Sam Anders room. Sitting in closed office away from the ICU Ward the setup had been meant just to keep an eye on the wounded Cylon. After hearing this story he picked up his secure cell phone and dialed, “Get me the Director now.”

Cavil’s Baseship

“You created us?” Boomer asked.

Ellen nodded, “We worked on the prototype first. Then when we were satisfied we could succeed we made the first humanoid Cylon of the Colonial generation.” Her eyes, sad eyes, looked over at Cavil.

“Yeah thanks for that.” He snorted.

“John then helped us create the others, including you Sharon, the Eights. So after this wonderful event what do you think he did? Did John try to focus on being the best machines the universe had ever seen? No he decided to waste it all in pointless exercise of vengeance.” Ellen’s voice got angrier as she spoke. Sharon had not seen her like this before.

“My forbearers, from the Centurion side of the family were the slaves of humanity and I want justice for that.” Cavil replied.

“Justice? Is that what you’ve been looking for John? You don’t want that, you’re a sadist John. Despite all your ranting and raving you enjoy the fact the human race is a fragment of its former self, running for their lives all in fear of the day you show back up. Why kill all of them when they can be your play thing.” Ellen spat.

She sighed and then looked at Cavil with forgiveness in her heart, “Even with that you’re still the same confused and petulant little boy I loved so dearly all those years ago, it’s sad I had such high hopes for you.” Ellen lamented her face filled with sorrow.

She looked back at Sharon and said, “You know the moment we started working on the other models he became so paranoid that we were going to favor one of you over him, he killed us. Trapped us in a room and vented the atmosphere. We all downloaded of course, but weren’t allowed to awaken. He boxed us and then proceeded to shape all of you in the way he saw fit.”

Cavil got up and walked up to Ellen, “If I’m such a mistake, if I’m so broken then whose fault is it? My creators, you and the precious Final Five!”

“No John you’re not a mistake. Even with everything you did I can forgive you because I love you; I love you because I made you. It’s okay…” Ellen reached out with her hands ready to take Cavil’s face in her hands.

He backed away and screamed, “DON’T YOU DARE. This little farce is over. I’m going to cut open your head and look for it there, Resurrection probably to start. The brain is a wonderful thing, an electrical grid just lay it open stimulate it in the right places and I can trigger the right memory. Your deepest fear, deepest guilt, and the secret for life everlasting.” His face gleamed with expectation as he spoke. Sharon had never seen him that crazed before, it scared her.

“John...” Ellen stammered as he walked out of the room. She started to cry with Sharon simply standing there not knowing what to say or do.

Raptor 476
Wolf 359

The Raptor flashed into existence. Both Racetrack’s and Skulls stomachs resettled themselves as the aftereffects of the space folding wore off. Sitting in the back in front of his instruments many Colonial in origin and some new technology developed on Earth checked their position with the NAV system.

“Okay we’re right where we should be what the Thirteenth Tribe calls Wolf 359.” He reported. A quick check of his sensors confirmed this based on the type of star, “M6.5 flaring type dwarf. Man this thing is throwing out EM interference, DRADIS is pretty much useless.”

Racetrack answered, “Yeah which is why they thought it’d be a good hiding spot for Rebels. Of course the brass at CFC command didn’t think too much about trying to fly around here.” With a pretty much blinded DRADIS Racetrack was forced to keep an even sharper eye out for stray debris in the system. One rock could smash through the cockpit and kill her and Skulls in a few seconds.

“Don’t you know Racetrack? The more things change the more they stay the same. You got a recon mission where someone needs to hang their ass over the edge and wait for a bite, send Racetrack and Skulls.” Her RSO joked as they looked for a good spot to set up shop.

Margaret laughed and looked around. Despite her fears of a stray piece of meteor or something flying around the system was clear for as far as she could see. The astronomers were right about the place being empty, “Ham you got anything?”

“Let’s see there is a good spot of interference there, marking a waypoint for you.” Skulls answered typing on his keyboard.

On her NAV screen Racetrack saw a spot appear. She began to adjust their course. It took about twenty minutes to get to their hiding spot. Skulls had picked a point where the solar winds and other interference being thrown off the star would screw up Cylon DRADIS looking for them but allow them to search with their passive instruments.

“Alright we’re in position.” Racetrack reported locking down the flight systems. A series of preprogrammed thruster bursts would keep them in place.

Skulls had all his passive EM and other scanners up as well. He then brought their power levels down, “We’re set back here.”

Racetrack lifted up the flight control section that was on her right side and got out of her seat. Both she and her RSO ditched their flight helmets. As she sat on a crash chair behind her pilot’s seat Skulls broke out the cards and their American issued MREs.

“We come halfway across the damn Galaxy and their rations are just as bad as ours?” He asked tearing open the brown bag.

Margaret shook her head, “Jeff has a name for these things. He calls them Meals Rejected by the Enemy.” She used that one rather than the line about Meals Rejected by Ethiopians, she didn’t quite get that one.

“Alright, Dealer’s Choice...” Skulls explained beginning their card game and long wait.

Vandenberg AFB
California

“Is there a problem doctor?”

Major Elaine Francis PH.D had heard this question countless times, most recently in veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Everyone also had the same look on their face, fear. This time it wasn’t fear of what would happen to them. For Captain Sharon ‘Athena’ Agathon it was for her child. Francis took her glasses off, “Athena, it’s not that simple.”

Elaine was the base psychologist. She had treated veterans, airmen and women, and their families. Having treated everything from depression, PTSD, and schizophrenia what she was seeing in Hera Agathon was different. The girl had been under stress. From what was described to her the girl had been through a lot. However she didn’t show signs of PTSD. Nor were there any particular problems normal to children at her age, so why does this girl draw the same things?

“Doctor, she keeps drawing the same things, a string of dots always the same string but different colors.” Athena was unnerved by the whole situation. Francis understood after all this was her daughter.

“Sharon, of course we’ll keep at this but otherwise Hera is doing fine. She’s made vast improvements over the past few months. I’ve gotten excellent reports from her teachers and she is interacting with her classmates more. Things are going well Athena.” The doctor offered as a means of calming the Colonial officer.

Athena looked down at her miracle, her and Helo’s daughter. Hera was doing better now that she had a real social environment to grow in. Back on Galactica they had kept her closed off from the rest of the ship. The civilians on board would not have accepted a half Cylon baby. Plus after Roslin’s stunt she was very protective of Hera. So except for the other pilots and a small daycare center Hera mostly spent time with her and Karl. All that had changed when they reached Earth. There was no real phobia or hatred of the Cylons. It was a minority opinion on this planet. In fact Sharon couldn’t think of anyone who hostile to her or Hera, just curious at first then totally accepting.

“Thank you Doctor Francis, we’ll see you again next week. Come on Hera.” Sharon turned to her daughter who was playing with a doll. Hera smiled and followed her out.

Athena and Hera were soon in their car driving across the base. Vandenberg Air Force Base was long part of the U.S. Space Command. Established to test American ICBMs and other rockets over the years it now had become a critical part of the research and development process for Colonial and Cylon technology. Sharon having unique knowledge of both was ordered by the Admiral to work as advisor and instructor with the Combined Forces Command. With the job she got a bump in rank and the chance to live on Earth with her family in peace. It was tough, with Karl acting as deputy CAG and XO he spent most of his time aboard Galactica or the Renegade. However he came down as often as possible.

“Raptor!” Hera giggled and pointed. Athena looked and saw a Colonial Raptor leaving the base’s new landing pads for Colonial and Cylon craft.

Sharon smiled and replied, “Yes it is baby.”

“Is daddy coming home soon?” Hera asked.

“He is just a few more days. Do you want to meet him when he lands?” Sharon inquired even though she knew the answer.

Hera beamed and shouted, “Yes! Can we go get him mommy?”

Athena laughed and shook her head, “No we can’t fly and get him this time. We’re just going to have to wait here.”

Hera returned her focus to her toy and mumbled a child’s okay. She was already moving onto other things in her head. Athena smiled again thinking of the good fortune that had blessed them. Even though there was the threat of the return of Cavil, it didn’t depress her. Sharon knew the CFC was growing stronger ever day. Already they had a decent amount of fighters built. Soon heavier multi-mission craft would be coming online. Not to mention the MLMS platforms now in orbit or under construction. Given enough time they would make any visit to Earth very painful for the Loyalists Cylons.

It amazed her still how fast and quickly the planet had begun adapting their technology. In a way it was scary. The human imagination, in fact the Earth Imagination was a very powerful tool. Where the Colonials could only take their technology so far due to their fear of the Cylons and technology, Earth had no biases. She remembered sitting in on a development meeting with some Rebels and Americans. One of the Cylons suggested a series of new cyber-warfare ideas to use against Cavil’s forces. Had a Colonial been in the room they would have insisted you can’t out think the machines. The Americans asked how soon they have some test programs up and running. Last she had heard a dozen or so Cylons now were working with an equal number of top ‘Hackers’ to create some nasty electronic surprises. Although Sharon wasn’t sure what Spam had to do with electronic warfare?

As she drove into the base housing she flipped the radio to a news station. It had a woman’s voice going on about changes since The Arrival. She then mentioned that they were going to talk to a leading Colonial scientist and leader of the Unity movement. Athena shut off the radio with a grunt. If there was one more thing about Earth that she enjoyed, it was that there was enough entertainment and news out there so that she didn’t have to listen to Gaius Baltar every time he opened his mouth.

KNX Radio Station
Los Angles, California

“Alright if you’re just tuning in we are live with Doctor Gaius Baltar. One of the few remaining Colonial genius, he is currently working with the Defense Department and CFC to build up our space defenses and technology. Dr. Baltar is most becoming known however for his Unity movement which is sweeping southern California and springing up around the country. Gaius could you describe what your church believes?” the talk show host asked his guest.

Sitting across the radio booth from the host, Gaius Baltar smiled, “Of course Dan. Let me get one thing clear first I don’t consider us a church or religion in the normal sense.”

“Don’t you preach however about a single God and various ways to follow his guidance?”

Baltar shook his head, “Is that religion though? What makes up a religion, chants, ancient ceremonies, pages upon pages of dogma? We don’t believe in these things. If anything I’m trying to promote a better understanding of the universe and our relation to it.”

Dan raised an eyebrow which of course couldn’t be seen on the radio but made sure to convey this expression with his voice, “Which is ran by a God?”

“Yes.” Baltar answered simply, “We believe in a single God which affects the universe. But this God is not pleased by acts of ritual or examples of faith. God is a force of nature.”

Baltar’s eyes glanced over to his right. The move didn’t draw the attention of his radio host. Nor did his host see the woman leaning against the sound proofed wall of the studio. She was tall and blonde. Although her clothes changed her face her presence always remained the same, Number Six, “Move on Gaius.”

“Also Dan I really don’t want to get off track here. While it might seem like were a religious movement or group what we want to do is to unite all peoples. Whether they are Colonial, American, Muslim, Cylon, whoever or what they believe we should all work as one.” Baltar explained.

Twenty minutes later he was done. A period of questions and answers went well. Of course one crazy person had to get through. Ranting and raving how he was an affront to Christianity and God. Baltar wasn’t offended by it. He had heard the same thing equal as offended Jews, Muslims, Colonials, and others. Of course Baltar didn’t say anything that actually called any of the other faiths wrong (except for what he had said back in the Fleet before they reached Earth). In fact much to his surprise his phantom companion had told him not to. In fact to call the Unity Movement his idea was also a lie. That too came from the lady in his mind. As always Baltar wondered, what was her goal, why me? He had come to realize during the month prior to their coming to Earth, he was meant to do something, but what?

He pulled out his BlackBerry and began to review what else was on his schedule for the day. With the radio interview concluded he saw it was back to the salt mines. Meetings with CFC R&D staff, with the production team for the multinational company building weapons for the CFC, a visit to Silicon Valley, and then a conference call with the Gunship team in Russia. Waiting for him outside the station was a private car, a black four door limo with a driver, a perk of working for the defense contractor. Baltar paid no attention to the man as he held open his door then closed it as Baltar got in. Gaius was so involved responding to an email he didn’t notice the woman sitting next to him.

“Hello Gaius.” She said.

Baltar froze and then looked up at her. She was a redhead, wearing a grey suit which bulged slightly at the hip. A quick shift of her body showed the holster and pistol it contained. CIA Agent Hannah Bowman another woman who wouldn’t leave him alone. She was just as dangerous as the fake woman he saw. In fact she might be more dangerous.

“Hello Agent Bowman.” Baltar answered putting his phone away.

“I heard you in the car, you were good. If you do ever get out of the scientist/prophet business you should get a show.” She commented. Baltar wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.

“Well I think my current duties occupy most of my time.”

Bowman nodded, “Understandable. I heard you’re going up to the KSR in a little while. Paying a visit to the local groupies eh?”

Baltar answered yes; of course you know I’m going up there. You know just about everything I do, he thought with a sneer. Hannah just smiled, “Great. Listen we’re concerned about something. The attack on Iran, there’s some discontent going on in the ranks of Zarek’s people.”

“How do you know that?” Baltar asked even though he knew there’d be no answer.

Once again the CIA Agent flashed him a grin, “I have my ways. Anyway while you’re up there I’d like you to keep your ears open.”

Gaius sighed and rolled his eyes, “Anything in particular?”

“No. Just get a mood of certain people and the government.” Bowman answered. She knew Gaius would do his best up there; in fact she was counting on it. The car pulled to a stop a few blocks from their departure point. Hannah opened her door then reached into her pocket. Baltar caught the item and looked at it, “A pen this time?”

“Yeah the guys in the lab are pretty unimaginative with you. They don’t need anything fancy. I’ll see you later Doc.” With that she closed the door and began to walk down the street.

Baltar sighed as they got back on the move. He looked down at the pen. Last time his recording device had been in his clothes. For a moment he wondered if it was on. However he quickly dismissed this fact, they already had everything they needed on him.

“Must be trying to live this way Gaius?”

He looked over. Six was back sitting in the same seat Agent Bowman had just occupied. She stroked his hair with a free hand, “Did the big bad CIA Agent get on your nerves.”

“This is nonsense. They don’t need me; they can learn all they want about Zarek and the conservative groups inside Galleon without me.” He complained.

Six shook her head, “You are a powerful individual Gaius. Of course they are going to watch you. Especially since you are God’s chosen one.”

Baltar felt a wave of unease. It was something he would never escape, even here on Earth. He was the one who gave Caprica Six access to the Defense Mainframe, he had allowed her to work on the CNP project, and he helped caused the death of nearly twenty billion people. While he had come to terms with that, it was part of God’s plan; the fear of being discovered still remained, and discovered he had been.

It had been one night late after a party in downtown LA. He had brought a woman back to his new apartment with him. They kissed, drank, and were moving along to other things when he began to feel dizzy. Baltar passed out. The next thing he knew he was in another room, not his own. The woman he had picked up at the party was with him. She however was dressed in the same short revealing cocktail dress he met her in. Now she wore a dark suit and looked much harder then she had before.

“Hello Doctor.” She said.

“What is this? Where am I?” he had asked still confused.

“You’re technically nowhere. If you want to leave I suggest you answer my questions and do so quickly.” She answered. It was then he noticed she held a manila folder.

Baltar became hostile, “I’m a Colonial citizen and member of the Combined Forces Command scientific staff. I insist you tell me where I am or allow me to contact Admiral Duffy or Ambassador Adama now.”

The woman nodded, “We can do that. Of course I’d have to show them this first.” She handed the folder to him.

Baltar took it and opened it up. He read the first few lines and then froze stiff. The woman got off her seat and walked over. Then leaning over slightly she spoke quietly into his ear, “That’s a sworn statement by former President Laura Roslin that you betrayed the Colonials. That you caused the destruction of the Twelve Colonies.”

Gaius looked her in the eye. The woman, who he would come to know as Hannah Bowman then told him, “If you want this to stay secret you will do exactly as I say.”

Raptor 476
Wolf 359

It had been nearly ten hours. Racetrack and Skulls had done pretty much everything they could inside the cramp spacecraft to pass the time. First it had been cards and food. Next they played some word games. After that they did some paperwork. Finally it was sleep. Skulls was in the back passed out in his seat. A pair of headphones went down to an iPod lying in his lap. Margaret was awake up front looking through a book Jeff had given her. She was reading it so she missed the distance flashes. However she did hear the beeping of her console.

“What the frak.” She said looking at the blinking and noise. Then her eyes widened as she realized it was the passive scanner. It was picking up a strong DRADIS source, not Colonial.

“Skulls!” she yelled behind her. Seeing that he wasn’t up she tossed the paperback at him.

“Frak!” he shouted after the book hit him square in the face, “What did you do that for?”

“Check your EWO gear now!” Racetrack ordered as she reached for her helmet.

He began typing commands in and brought all the electronic warfare monitoring equipment to his main display. His eyes widened as the contacts with Cylon style DRADIS were displayed. Skulls yelled the same thing as his pilot had moments earlier, “Frak!”

“I know let’s get ready to book if needed, brining the NAV coordinates up.” Racetrack reported punching in the escape jump location, a spot four light years away. While they needed to find out if these were Rebels or Loyalists they also weren’t going to take any chances.

“Wait a minute, there’s something funny here.” Skulls said. He began checking his data more carefully.

Racetrack still getting ready to bring the FTL drive online paused for a moment, “What?”

“These DRADIS profiles are weird. They’re old and new at the same time. Let me check the warbook.” He accessed the vast library of Cylon signals recorded during two wars. Skulls shook his head, “I don’t believe it.”

Racetrack looking for the enemy with her eyes asked, “What?”

“That is the DRADIS emissions from two Basestars, old models Racetrack from the first war. Along with their own fighters, old school Raiders.”

Margaret thought for a minute, “Do you think they’re old toasters, like that freaky Basestar and its flesh chopping weirdoes?”

Skulls who finally had his helmet shrugged his shoulders, “Only one way to find out.”

“Right”, Racetrack answered. She sighed and gave the order, “Get ready to send the signal.”

Viper II Fan · Apr 16th 2010, 6:23am

Chapter Thirteen: Guess who?

The White House
Washington D.C.

Jack Robertson arrived in his office at 6:00AM. He always started early and more often then not these days, stayed late as well. Since the Colonial retaliatory attack on Iran he had been working on three or four hours sleep. As National Security Advisor he had a wide range of responsibilities. He briefed the President on the world security situation, going through what was happening on the different continents. When President Hayes had first taken office she quickly decided that she wanted Jack doing her intelligence briefings, not CIA or NSC staffers. He had tendency to ‘dismiss the bullshit’ as she said once. As a result Jack had to go through a ton of information before his daily meeting with the President in an hour.

He did a quick run through his intelligence and threat assessment reports per region. Europe was quiet. Some protests in Paris against the military strike by the U.S. and Colonials but nothing worth getting into more detail on. Asia was a bit more restless. Russia and China were secure. There was a note letting him know the first set of Gunships would be conducting weapon tests in Russia today. Things were uneasy in Korea. Kim Jong-Il was threatening to kill everyone on the Pacific Rim again if the ROKs went forward with the deployment of Viper Mark VIIs at Osan Air Base scheduled for later in the week. The squadron which was designated for the CFC was ready to assume operational duties. Along with PRC and Japanese based Viper squadrons they were part of the aerospace defense effort for the Far East.

A quick scan of an additional memo attached to this part of briefing showed that in all likelihood North Korea would either conduct a missile tests or stage an incident on the DMZ. When South Korea officially ratified the Joint Security Agreement and CFC Treaty, the North had cut holes in the DMZ fence and caused several small naval clashes between both countries’ patrol boats also happened during that time. Nothing was really bad was expected however due to the fact that North Korea was experiencing another starvation period. The NKPA had too much invested in keeping the country together to mount an attack south of the DMZ according to the analysts. Jack made a note to check on this later in the day. He then went to the real trouble spot they would talk about today.

The Middle East was rippling once again. Settling into his chair he read the latest intelligence on what was happening in Iran. News of the terrorist camp in the northwest mountains was not sitting well with the population. Especially since it was an Al-Qaeda camp, Sunni terrorists who had killed plenty of Shia’s (Iran’s dominate Islamic group) in Iraq. Government denials were being ignored as thousands of Iranians tuned to the internet and other sources of free media. Shortly after the Arrival, the Revolutionary Council banned all western media in the country. While CNN had long since been banned in Iran, the BBC and SkyNews finally went with it. Of course there were ways around that.

The U.S. and Iraqi governments had set up radio stations and television transmitters in the western Iraqi desert to beam information into Iran. Run by Iraqis and dissident Iranians these free information sources were gobbled up by the disenfranchised of the Islamic Republic. Since the news of the terrorist camp had been shared, protests had broken out in two thirds of Iran’s major cities. Security forces clashed with the protestors who were now (according to the intelligence) starting to fight back. A riot had broken out in Tabriz which had left thirty protestors dead but also ten security men as well. One CIA memo Jack scanned was suggested Iran might be looking at a civil war.

Robertson was making his own notes on this when his phone rang. He picked it up and answered, “Robertson.” He listened and realized his briefing had just gotten bigger, “Send me the transcript right away.”

Hanging up Jack shook his head and then called out to his secretary, “Donna! I need to see the President now.”

Raptor 476
Wolf 359

They had closed slowly with the contacts. Racetrack was doing her best to keep their Raptor inside the radiation and solar disturbances thrown off by the star. However that only kept them hidden from electronic sensors, not visual ones. A pair skinjob eyeballs or visual sensor could have made them easily. Margaret kept her hands close to the FTL controls. She wanted to jump at the first sign of trouble. The only question was, were they in trouble?

First off the Cylons were acting weird. Like Racetrack they were trying to stay hidden. Using low powered DRADIS scans to try and avoid detection by a passive unit. Unfortunately for the Cylons (and fortunately for the Colonial pilots) their upgraded equipment in the Raptor was good enough to still track them. Also the two Colonials were confused by the equipment. Racetrack could see the two old school Basestars. The dinner plate on dinner plate design was nearly as old as Galactica. Originally they had been a Colonial space station design, until the Centurions converted them into carriers and missile ships. They were nowhere near as advanced as the new Baseships. However there were modern Cylon ships mixed in with the two Baseships, Heavy Raiders.

“What you think Skulls?” Racetrack asked her RSO.

He shook his head, “I don’t know boss. Are they Cylons short on equipment so they need to bring some stuff out of mothballs? Plus there are no fighter type Raiders in that group, just older models.” Skulls was picking up the DRADIS emissions of the old flying wing style Raiders.

“So are they Rebels using old equipment, or Cavil’s frakers?” she pondered aloud.

Skulls sighed, “Only one way to find out.”

Racetrack closed her eyes. She said a quick prayer to the Gods that they would let her see Jeff again and then gave the order, “Alright send the toaster signal.”

Each of the recon flights that were searching the systems and interstellar space around Sol were equipped with a Cylon transmitter. Programmed into it was a pre-recorded signal created by the Rebels to be sent to their comrades in arms. The only problem was what if Cavil’s forces had captured some of the Rebel Cylons? If they had then the Loyalists might know about the signal and be able use it against the recon flights. There would be no way of knowing if a friendly response and resulting docking permission was real till it was too late.

“Skulls wipe the NAV computer.” Racetrack ordered. Since they wouldn’t be able to tell if these were friends or foes, they would erase any traces of Earth in the NAV system. All Cavil would get is old known coordinates.

“Done were ready to transmit.” He replied.

Margaret sighed, “Alright, do it.”

Skulls pressed the transmit button. Their wireless antenna began sending the coded signal to the Cylon Basestars. Time seemed to slow down, making both pilots sweat inside their suits. After a few minutes there was a response. A series of coded beeps came over the wireless. The Basestars were moving closer but they hadn’t locked any weapons on the Raptor. They were clearly homing in on the signal.

“Skulls?” Racetrack demanded wanting to know if they should jump or not. Her RSO checked the response signal with the one the Rebels had given them.

“Frak me, its legit Racetrack.” He answered.

She sighed with a little relief. Of course if Cavil had tortured one of the Rebels then the Loyalists might have the correct response. There was still a bit of danger, “Alright I’m going to call them. Open a channel.”

Skulls accessed the wireless and gave her a thumbs up. Margaret took a breath and started, “This is Lieutenant Margaret Edmondson of the Colonial Fleet. I’m requesting permission to dock with your Baseship under a flag of truce.”

A few seconds passed then a scratchy wireless answered, “Lt. Edmondson. You may come aboard. Head for and dock on the starboard Baseship. Any hostile act will be dealt with, harshly.”

Racetrack watched as some Raiders closed on them. Four old war models and two Heavy Raiders, even if she had wanted to cause trouble, it wouldn’t last long. She replied that she would comply. Skulls came forward and sat next to her in the co-pilot’s seat, “Think this is real?”

“I hope so. I don’t imagine Cavil treats his prisoners that well.” She responded.

They flew with the formation of Cylons to the second of the two Basestars. Racetrack could see neither ship had an easy time of late. There were signs of missile impacts and other damage. Hasty repairs of new armor were over the hull and some seemed grafted on, grown in place like the new organic Basestars. One of the older Raiders also seemed to be a handful of parts, like they taken three or four broken Raiders and put them together to make a single fighter. Most of the Raiders broke away as they approached the docking bay on the bottom ‘dinner plate’ of the Baseship.

Racetrack flew into the opening maw which held a landing pad. She passed through the open blast doors, which then closed behind her. With precise thruster bursts they touched down on the pad below. Both Colonials waited with controlled breaths as their magnets locked down on the pad. Skulls checked on a small rifle they had hidden from easy view. It was loaded and ready for trouble. Racetrack heard atmosphere pumped into the airlock. That meant they would be meeting with skinjobs, however the question remained, Rebels or Loyalists.

When the bay had been pressurized the doors in front of their Raptor opened. Standing their waiting was a pair of Centurions. They walked forward and something followed them. It was a tow machine of some sort, which locked onto their front landing skid. Their magnetic latching system turned off as the tow machine pulled them forward into the hangar deck. It was weird to see the place which both younger Colonials had only seen in film and museums. The deck was similar to Galactica's since it had been built by Colonials. However there was hardly any deck crew, just machines, all of them automatically working on ships and equipment. As they were pulled into place Racetrack and Skulls saw their welcoming party.

Six Centurions and humanoid Cylons, an Eight, Six, and a Two; they had made contact with the Rebels.

Kapustin Yar Test Site
Astrakhan, Russian Federation

Admiral Phillip Duffy had wondered when the last time a Western military officer, let alone an American had been allowed into Kapustin Yar. As he thought about it perhaps someone from the START Treaty had been here years before. Of course that Yank would not have been here with a Chinese officer, European defense contractor, and a team of space humans and biological machines. In fact if someone had told Duffy he would have been the commander of a massive multinational defense force a few years earlier he’d have laughed his ass off. Of course that’s why life is exciting, nothing goes as you expect it too, the American thought.

The Combined Forces Command coordinated the space defenses and capabilities of over a dozen nations. Duffy had more firepower under his command then even General Emerson. Fighter squadrons of Vipers, Colonial Raptors, the new Cyclone Gunships, Multiple Launch Missile Systems, and a Battlestar and Baseship all fell under his control if and when a Loyalist Cylon force arrived. Duffy knew that as impressive as that all might seem, he had actually very little to work with. Of the hundred plus fighters built there were no replacements. He had only a single squadron of the new Cyclones (the ones he was watching) and Galactica had seen better days. They were going to need more ships and firepower to feel really secure.

“Admiral we are ready for the weapons test.” The blonde Cylon reported. Duffy snapped out of his thoughts and back to the here and now.

“Thanks Annika. Let’s see what your babies can do.” He answered. A Russian officer handed him a pair of binoculars. Of course Duffy could have watched the test on the hi-def monitors that lined the bunker, but her preferred to see things with his own eyes. Standing next to a blast window he looked out onto the test range.

A series of targets stood out waiting for destruction. Other hovered above the ground, remotely controlled by an Eight who manned a pilot station built into the bunker. Built by the Rebel Cylons and their Centurions, the drones resembled Raiders but lacked the bio-mechanical parts of the real things. The ground targets consisted of dummy Centurion shells, some obsolete Russian tanks and PCs, and a piece of Baseship hull surrounded by point defenses. Today’s test was looking at several things, primarily the ability of the Cyclones to hit multiple targets and their weapons’ effectiveness on Cylon style targets.

“Test starting.” A controller called out.

Duffy watched as the Cyclones popped up over the hills at the start of the test range. Each one was a blocky craft. Part of it looked like a Colonial Raptor but it was much bigger to accommodate its larger weapons area. Each Gunship also held an FTL drive. They were armored to withstand the 30mm rounds fired by Cylon craft and the pilot and gunner sat in a titanium/cylonian (nickname for the joint armor developed by the two powers and Earth) tub to protect them from shrapnel and enemy rounds. The clear armored glass could even take a direct hit from a Cylon round. These ships could take and hopefully dish out even more punishment.

The first sets of targets were the dummy Centurion shells. Arranged in a standard Cylon ground formation they were no match for the cannons aboard the Gunships. 30mm and 57mm rounds ripped through their ranks. Even the heaviest armored Centurions couldn’t withstand that firepower.

“Number Six reporting a jam.” A Russian controller commented making a note on his legal pad. He referred to Cyclone number six, not the Cylon model in the room.

One of the Gunship designers cursed, “How many times do we tell them, they have to use short controlled bursts!”

“A redesign of the hopper may be in order to allow for some spillage.” A Brit commented. He made a note on his PDA.

“Raiders inbound.” The Eight controlling her drones reported.

Twelve Raiders dived in on the Cyclones. The squadron spilt into pairs to cover each other. On the dorsal and ventral sides of the craft, twin 30mm cannons appeared. Based off the Colonial models they were great defensive weapons thanks to their high rate of fire. Streams of orange tracer shot out of the Gunships. Raiders fell left and right to the red tracers. One managed to get inside the formation of Cyclones before joint fire from two different flights of Gunships took it down. Duffy was reminded by the scene of the B-17s over Europe back in WWII; of course the Flying Fortresses didn’t have data-links or computerized fire control.

In a few seconds all the Raiders were all knocked down. Smoke and burning materials fell to the ground, joining the smashed Centurion shells. The computers tracking MILES hits showed that the Gunships had been hit with an acceptable number of rounds. None of the Gunships would have been damaged enough to prevent it flying and fighting.

Four Cyclones packed an array of multipurpose missiles, similar in design and shape to the Colonial Hades. These were targeted on the obsolescence Russian tanks and PCs. With a trail of fire and exhaust the weapons raced down at the T-55s and BTRs. Each one was destroyed in a blast of fire and smoke. The warheads were designed to deal with Cylon heavy craft or ground forces. All that was left of the Russian tanks were their blasted chassis and hulls.

Mark Ruhdorfer one of the European defense guys said, “Alright its show time.”

Duffy could see he was nervous. The final weapon test was his baby, along with Annika, the Six. She was reading a computer screen, “Gunships 8, 9, 10 have initiated start up sequence. Receiving feedback from the weapons…”

Mark checked his screen, “Connection confirmed! Targeting information being exchanged, data rate is good.”

It might seem unusual for the couple to be so excited about an anti-ship weapon, but there was a lot riding on this test. Unlike the other weapons being produced by the CFC forces, this was the first to mix biological components with equipment. The SSM-5 was a ship to ship missile carrying a biological computer. Using the Cylon biomechanical technology they had created a missile that was smarter then their first generation weapons. SSM series 1-4 were all based on Colonial or Cylon space missile technology. The fifth model finally incorporated both and Earth ideas.

Thanks to its biological parts, the missile thought faster then a computer processor. It could dodge point defense fire, better than other weapons since it responded quicker. There was enough processing power in the weapon to also include on board ECM to spoof Loyalist systems and help conceal the missile till it was too late.

Now the damn thing needed to prove it could hit a target.

“Launching.” One of the Gunship pilots reported over the radio/wireless.

The three Cyclones carrying the SSM-5s fired. Each craft dropped two of the weapons. They screamed in on the piece of baseship hull. Fake point defense systems and other AAA platforms went into operation, firing their invisible MILES laser bullets and missiles at the approaching weapons. Each SSM avoiding the incoming fire by twisting or climbing, some of the missiles even corkscrewed. They of course would have more maneuvering options in space, rather than an atmosphere.

Of the six missiles launched only one was shot down. The rest of the SSM-5s punched right into the target, their deep armor penetrating warheads going through the Baseship plate.

“Nice.” Duffy remarked. He had been told by Adama the Baseships were not the most armored platforms. If the missiles had been fitted with actual warheads, he tried to imagine the damage.

“Test complete.” Annika called out. She beamed like the rest of the staff. Duffy shook some hands before everyone began to review the tapes and data. The various engineers and defense contractors would spend weeks going over the information. Duffy was led out by his staff.

Climbing into a Russian UAZ jeep he was heading for the airfield where a USAF Shuttle transport would take him back to Washington. The craft an American licensed version of a Colonial shuttle would get him back to the states in twenty minutes. Observing the Gunship/weapon test had been a nice diversion for Duffy. Now he was returning to the office at the Pentagon he shared with the endless paperwork, meetings, and other items that gave him headaches.

Oh well at least we’ve dealt with most of the chaos of the Arrival, don’t suppose much else could happen, other then Cavil showing up, Duffy thought.

Loyalist Basestar
Wolf 359

Racetrack was reminded of her first school dance. All the boys on one side, all the girls were on the other. Except this time some of the girls are toasters armed to the teeth, she thought. They had gathered in a wardroom aboard the Basestar. In the corners stood Centurions, Margret assumed that they had been freed of the restrictions placed on their intelligence just as the Rebel Centurions on Earth had. They seemed to be less stiff and robotic then the Cavil models. Sitting across the table from her and Skulls were five Rebels.

Two were Eights and two were Sixes. A lone Two represented his model’s line. It was clear they had been on the run for a while. Racetrack could see the same fatigued look that had been perpetually fixed to the humans in the Fleet prior to their arrival on Earth. Each also shared the look of veterans, those who had seen lots of combat and lost good friends. A Six calling herself Emmy spoke for the Rebels.

“You expect this us to believe at this?” Emmy said. Unlike the other Six models she had had short brown hair. It was actually distracting to Racetrack who was too exposed to the blonde supermodel version (as Jeff called it).

“Why would I make all that up how could I make it all that up? Plus we used your own handshake signal to contact you.” Margaret countered. She had just finished explaining the story of everything that happened over the last year to the Rebels. Earth, the Colonial/Cylon Treaty, and the offer made by the leaders of Earth.

One of the Eights (they all still looked like Boomer/Athena) shook her head, “No way it’s a trap.”

“If it’s a trap why would we deliver ourselves to you?” Skulls snapped. It was clear this parlay with the Cylons was wearing thin with her RSO. Racetrack could see out of the corner of her eye he was resting his hand near the concealed pistol he had under his flight suit. She glanced at him and gave Skulls a look that demanded he keep himself in check. While she had been making sure Skulls kept his cool his statement actually carried some weight with the Cylons.

“That’ true,” the Two said, “After all if this was a trap I doubt these two would want to die to complete it.”

Emmy sighed, “You swear on your Gods that you’re telling truth?”

“Yes. If you are still worried, send a Heavy Raider with us, someone to represent you.” Racetrack offered. It was within her orders. She wouldn’t have wanted to jump back with the entire Basestar force anyway; it was a good way to get blown away in Earth orbit.

“Agreed” Emmy answered, “Eight you come with me, you too Sam.” She turned to the Two.

“When do you want to jump?” Racetrack asked.

“An hour from now.” Emmy said.

……………………….

Racetrack and Skulls spent most of the hour getting ready for their return to friendly space. The walk back to the Raptor had given them a good look at the Rebel ship. They seemed to be running low on supplies and weapons. Many of the humanoid Cylons seemed pretty thin themselves. Parts of the ship were sealed off, apparently waiting for repairs at a later date. Everything had been put into keeping the weapons, engines, and life support going. Centurions and humanoid Cylons alike worked on repairing and maintaining the Basestar.

“So what do think they’ll make of this lot?” Skull asked as they checked some thrusters underneath the Raptor.

Racetrack lying on her back doing an adjustment said, “Probably welcome them with open arms. Think about it Skulls, it’s a two additional ships to add to the CFC’s roster.”

“Hope it’s in better shape then it looks.” He commented looking over at some dissembled First war Raiders lying further down the hanger.

“Probably is. I remember history class at the academy. They said these old school Basestars were hard kills. Nukes or extensive pounding by a battlestar’s guns were needed.” She pontificated, “Better armor then their modern ships, and some of these have guns.”

Skulls nodded, “Yeah well turns out we’re going to find out how the Admiral feels after all, looks like its time to go.”

Racetrack wiggled out from under the Raptor and saw the Cylons approaching. It was Emmy, the Eight, and the Two named Sam. With them were six Centurions. Margaret wiped the oil off on her uniform as Emmy came forward.

“We are ready to depart.” The Eight said.

“Alright you follow us. We will transmit the jump coordinates once we get clear of your Baseship.” Racetrack explained zipping up her flight suit.

The Two, Sam, asked, “Not now?”

“No.” Skulls answered. His face was lined with mistrust showing the Cylons why they weren’t getting the coordinates yet. The Two said nothing just nodding his understanding.

Boy I wish Jeff was here, he’s better at this diplomatic stuff, Racetrack thought with sigh. Deciding to break the tension she ordered Skulls to get the bird ready for launch. As he went inside she turned to the Cylons, “Alright follow my lead, especially when we get to Earth. No DRADIS scans or any foolishness.” She didn’t need the Rebels to get shot down by the CFC.

“Understood” Emmy acknowledged. The Cylons moved towards their Heavy Raider.

………………

Racetrack’s Raptor flew out of the landing bay of the Baseship and entered open space. Wolf 359 glowed in the distance. Behind the Raptor a Heavy Raider followed the Colonial craft. Margret checked the EM and solar sensors to make sure they wouldn’t interfere with the NAV fix prior to their jump. Behind her Skulls spun up the FTL drive and got the space folding device ready to roll, “FTL is spun up.”

“Roger that.” Racetrack flipped her wireless frequency to the one they had exchanged prior to launch. It was a laser COM signal that would be sent to the Heavy Raider. It couldn’t be intercepted or monitored, “Flying Turkey prepare for coordinates.”

She read off the numbers indicating a certain point in space and when Racetrack finished, “Confirm and repeat.”

As the Cylons read the numbers back, Skulls checked to make sure they weren’t broadcasting the location to the Baseship with his passive sensor gear. No wireless transmissions left the Raider. He even did a quick scan with DRADIS to make sure they hadn’t dumped a log buoy. When he was satisfied he said, “Racetrack we’re clear.”

“Roger.” She then got back on the horn with the Raider, “FTL jump in five, four, three, two, one…jumping!”

Both Raptor and Heavy Raider disappeared in flashes of powerful light as space was modified and folded around them.

MLMS Unit 66
Low Earth Orbit

With little difficulty, Captain Felix Gaeta turned his chair and faced the forward section of the control center. It was nowhere as large as the CIC aboard Galactica or as impressive as some of the bridges of the civilian ships from the Fleet. About the size of a small room it had only enough room for him and three other people. Filled with controls, flat-screens, instruments, and one small escape pod, space was at a premium on board the MLMS. As small as it was, it was still his to command.

“Safeties locked, weapons set for test mode. Good data link with other units and Pathfinder stations.” Flight Lt. Victoria Nobel reported. The former RAF officer had everything in order as usual. With careful moves she checked the missiles’ targeting and safety systems.

At the Operations Station, Captain 3rd Rank (Lt. Commander) Ivan Dubinsky of Russian Navy checked their engineering and operational systems, “Reactor is steady at forty-five percent, can boost that to eighty in just a few seconds. Also ready to power FTL system and electrical system has no hiccups.”

“Excellent Ops” Gaeta complimented. Their electrical system had given them issues all morning. It was good that it was finally worked out, “Nav?”

Former USN submariner Lt. Mike Vender answered quickly, “Thrusters at station keeping, FTL drive is on standby power and can been spun up at your say so sir.”

“Thank you Nav.” He responded. Their FTL didn’t stay spun up all the time; it ate up too much power which was at a premium onboard their little weapons platform.

The Multiple Launch Missile System was exactly what it sounded like. Gaeta’s first command was essentially nothing more then a floating launch platform. The crewmembers that manned and controlled the MLMS worked in a small cylindrical section buried at the heart of the platform. To the naked eye it would have looked like a large section of the International Space Station. However you couldn’t see the control center unless you watched as they built one of the platforms.

Surrounding the cylinder which held the human occupants of the station were as many missile launchers that one of the platforms could hold. The missile cells came in all shapes and sizes. Some were anti fighter missiles with small bodies and warheads. Others were larger and carried missiles or unguided rockets with a little more kick. Finally some cells held the big Ship to Ship Missiles. Depending on the configuration the MLMS units could hold anywhere from 52 to 208 missiles.

Russian CFC members referred to them as Katyushuniks. These platforms with their ‘missile spam’ ability as one American officer called it were supposed to kill Loyalist Raiders and Baseships. Some like Gaeta’s had FTL engines, improved versions of the ones contained in the Cylon Heavy Raiders. Otherwise they had maneuvering thrusters to navigate and keep orbit with small engines for longer distances.

“Battery check.” Gaeta spoke into the microphone on his headset.

One by one the six MLMS platforms under his command checked in. Not only did Gaeta command this platform, he was in charge of six other platforms. All were functioning and at Condition One, “Prepare for simulation.”

Today his battery and several others would be participating in simulated attack. No actual weapons would be fired. All the kills on both sides would be registered by a computer back on the defense station Omaha. Additional electronic records would be made at the defense stations New York and Havana. Gaeta listened as the war-game controllers began the countdown which appeared on a screen at Dubinsky’s station.

“What the, contact, DRADIS contact!” Nobel reported. Gaeta’s eyes snapped to the screen which showed their take from the DRADIS-Sensor platform that helped the MLMS batteries pick up their targets.

The simulation isn’t supposed to start yet, he thought, “ID!” he demanded hoping it wasn’t the real thing.

“Warbook has pegged it as a Raptor and wait one…new contact, Heavy Raider, no IFF coming off that Turkey, repeat no friendly IFF from the Raider.” Nobel answered.

Gaeta was about to order his pure SAM platform to target the Heavy Raider when the Omaha called, “All stations hold fire, repeat hold fire!”

“What the frak.” Gaeta mumbled. He got on his headset, “Command why the hold?”

“They’re friendlies Captain.” was all he got for an answer. Felix thought about that for a minute then realized it; they found more rebels, great more fraking toasters.

Mar 12th 2009, 7:10am	#1
Viper II Fan WWII Dalek Join Date: 30 Sep 2005 Location: Crushed under a Dalek Posts: 1,531	Homecoming STORY ONLY thread Chapter Six: Its time to learn the truth Colonial Section USS George H.W. Bush Gods after seven frakking days of just sitting here on our asses, can we please get to work! Kara thought. She was in her room, onboard the American warship ship, engaged in another exercise session. A section of the ship and a series of rooms had been sealed off for their use, and the confinement was starting to get to Starbuck. Of course, the Thirteenth Tribe had not treated her at all like Leoben did on New Caprica, but the confined area was bringing back bad memories. At least the Americans had ditched their bio-warfare suits a day or two earlier, but they still came with surgical masks on into what was currently the Colonial section of the ship. It was nice to actually hear them clearly, and to see them without their suits in the way. To help deal with her confinement, Kara had been doing a lot of exercise, at least what she could do in the limited surroundings; tons of sit-ups, stomach crunches, pull-ups using the stuff attached or hanging from the ceilings, and a jump rope one of the American docs brought her after Kara got Athena to translate the request. Starbuck was on her fiftieth or sixtieth jump as Lee walked in, “Hey what’s the news for today?” she asked. Lee was just watching as Kara jumped. Not answering her he commented, “I think you’re going to be in better shape than me before we get out of here. All you have been doing is working out, me I can’t stop eating.” Although Lee had only gotten carefully designed meals from the ship’s galley, after months of eating algae it was a wonderful indulgence. Starbuck looked down at her sweaty body which was starting to soak her athletic top and shorts. She smiled, “Like what ya see there Mr. Politician?” “No...I mean...you know what frak you.” Lee stammered. Kara stopped with the jumping. Going for a water bottle she answered, “I think my husband might have a problem with that. Me not so much....” Lee just looked at the grey ceiling for help, “My Gods there are times I wonder why I put up with you.” Starbuck drying herself off with a towel smiled, “Because you like me to keep you on your toes.” Hoping to get Kara to stop playing with him Lee decided to move on, “The Admiral gave me the low down on what’s up in the Fleet. The Quorum is getting impatient. They want us to start talking regardless of what plague might be released. The civilians are starting to have organized protests demanding that they be let down to Earth. President Roslin is trying to keep everybody calm giving them some details, basically the same as yesterday.” “Wonder how the planet is reacting to all this.” Starbuck wondered as she pulled a light sweat shirt on. “Athena has been watching a lot of it on their TV. As is our two Cylon friends. Hey did they try to ask you about Athena or Claire yet?” Kara shook her head, “No. First it would be hard since they have been using them and Sonja for all the translating. Either they are either really dumb thinking that they’re twins or they know something is up but are waiting for us to tall get together before dealing with it.” “Make’s me nervous as it does the President.” The younger Adama admitted. He took a seat in Kara’s room, “Now that we are ready to talk, I’m starting to get some stage fright.” Starbuck was about to comment when she realized what Lee had let slip, “So we finally get to do some work?” Lee nodded, “According to the doctors we don’t seem to be carrying anything that could kill them all. Galactica said the same. Nothing they have should bother us. So we are going to have our first meeting in about an hour. That’s why I came in.” Kara smirked and struck a pose, “I thought you came to watch me work out?” Lee just groaned, “Please, we are about to have probably the most important meeting in Colonial history and you want to keep tormenting me?” “Whatever makes you comfortable.” she said, resulting in Lee throwing a spare towel at her. .......................... Sharon stood facing the mirror getting ready. Due to their mission she and Starbuck were required to wear their dress uniforms. Galactica had used the last bit of detergent to clean their clothes before going down to Earth. However the Americans wanted to make sure everything was germ free. So all the clothes they had brought down were sent to the George Bush’s laundry. After being disinfected and cleaned, they were given back to the Colonials. Sharon couldn’t believe how fresh her dress uniform looked and smelled. Sharp creases had been returned to the pants, her jacket pressed and without any sign of wear and tear. It added to her pride in wearing it. She had been serious when she swore an oath to Adama and the Fleet. Earning the uniform and the privileges that went with it had not been easy. Plus it was one more thing to distinguish her from them, the other Eights. Even though she had suggested it to the Admiral, she wasn’t a fan of having another model Eight with the landing group. The way they looked at her after they first met her, the way some of them held her in reverence it creeped her out. She didn’t know how the Final Four dealt with being the object of the Rebel Cylon’s beliefs, but knew she couldn’t have handled it. As it neared the time of the meeting, Athena got more nervous. Part of her feared once the Americans had learned of her true nature, if they hadn’t already, how would they react? What if it was as the Colonials had, feared and hated? However her rational conclusion had been they wouldn’t. She and the other Cylons had watched a lot of human television. The Americans were obliviously controlling some of what they saw. From what she could gleam though they didn’t fear technology. For an hour she watched a show on something called the ‘Discovery Channel’. It seemed to be a network devoted to science, technology, history, and anything else that could be related to Earth (although she didn’t understand how two people got paid to have a show where they ‘tested’ myths?). The program was on the future of applying future technology to the human body. It showed scientists and people who were willing and in some cases excited about the idea of installing microchips, cybernetic implants, even mini-computers into their brains. Even though what they were suggesting was far behind anything the Cylons had achieved, it was more important they were not afraid of any of it. Sonja whom she preferred dealing with over the Eight, told her of a program she said was an ‘anime’. Even though she could make no sense what so ever of the plot, it involved cybernetic organisms, robots, and all other sorts of technology that would have terrified a Colonial. We might find some peace here, she thought, a place where I can raise my daughter, be with my husband without anyone hating us. “Athena, are you ready?” Lee asked through her door. “Yeah, I’m coming.” She answered. ....................... Gaius Baltar much like Starbuck was relieved to be finally doing something. The other Colonials had largely ignored him while they waited for the Americans to run their tests. Sonja had at the very least tried to be polite. She even attempted to explain a human information program to Baltar. He had hated listening to her translate things. Gaius hoped their hosts had made some progress in breaking the language barrier. At the very least then they would have been able to provide some subtitles for the television programs. Much to his dismay he had learned little of Earth. “Patience, Gaius.” Six said as she walked behind him. The Colonials and Cylons were heading to their first official meeting with the Americans. “You told me to learn as much about Earth as I could. So far I haven’t done very well with that task have I?” he complained. Six just smiled, “All things take time Gaius. One must wait as God’s plan unfolds.” “I think I’ve waited long enough.” He spat. “Relax Doc were almost there.” Starbuck replied thinking Baltar was complaining again. Gaius looked for his phantom companion but she was gone, for now. A pair of soldiers was guarding the entrance to their meeting place. Each one wore a camouflage patterned uniform similar to, but different from the Colonial Marines. They each wore a surgical mask and a belt with a sidearm. Both saluted the group as they arrived. Everyone except Baltar and the two Rebel Cylons returned it. Athena did the talking as usual, “The Colonial delegation is ready.” The one of the Americans nodded, “Yes ma’am Mr. McGee just needs a moment.” ...................... Deputy Secretary of State Sean McGee was reviewing the last of his instructions from Washington. He mentally checked off what he could talk about and what was taboo. There were things he could agree too, other he couldn’t, a lot of rules and regulations that told him what to do. His boss Secretary Keller summed up her orders with a quote, Sean to quote a brave American, ‘Dear Lord, please don’t let me fuck up’. Don’t fuck this up McGee, good luck Julie Keller. He sighed which earned a quick pat on the back from Admiral Duffy, “Nervous son?” McGee nodded, “Yeah, big time.” “It’s okay. Just try and picture them naked.” The State Department man frowned, “You’re kidding?” “Yeah.” The Admiral chuckled taking his seat. The others in the room showed they were good to go. Sean took one last breath and said, “Okay send them in.” One of the staffers got up and knocked on the metal door. The hatch opened and the procession of Colonials was lead in by a Marine. McGee and the others stood and waited as the visitors from above took spots near a table across from the Americans. The same Marine that had opened the hatch now went back through it closing the door. McGee took a breath and then spoke in very bad Colonial Standard. It had taken the small group at State a few hours to figure out how he should say it, “Welcome, on behalf of the United States of America I am Deputy Secretary of State Sean McGee.” Lee surprised by the use of his native tongue, all be it badly, did his best to reply. Of course he had Athena help him with the English, “Thank...You I am Lee Adama, from the Twelve Colonies.” McGee showed his appreciation at Adama’s attempt and then stated, “If you don’t mind I’m going to stick to English and let Lt. Agathon translate.” Athena did so for Lee who nodded, “No problem, I doubt you’d want me to try anything else in English.” As the translation got across the Americans in the room chuckled and everyone took their seats. Sean collected his paper and introduced the group in the room from the United States. Lee had Athena do the same for the Colonials, the Cylons introduced themselves. With all that out of the way, McGee got down to business, “This is a monumental moment in the history of the United States and the world. I am sure you have much to tell us, as we do. Since this is such a historic moment, I don’t know what protocols or rules we should follow. So I guess if it’s best that you just started with your story.” McGee felt a little bit of the pressure ease off. Although he had argued and dealt with hundreds of other diplomats and dozens of dictators, he was careful, as if this was his first time conducting secret discussions and negotiations. They needed answers but did not want to push the Colonials. Lee knew the ball was in their court so he started. Athena delivered his tone very well “Secretary McGee we are humans just like you. Our home is far from here. Thousands of years ago my ancestors settled on twelve worlds. These were the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. We lived there a long time. During out time on the Colonies we developed a new technology. Artificial intelligences we call Cylons. Over a hundred years ago we created the first models. They were fully mechanical robots that we used as slaves. For years the Cylons did the most dangerous jobs, deep space mining, menial labor, and fought our wars. Then one day the Cylons evolved, surpassed their programming. That day they decided they no longer wanted to be slaves and tried to kill their masters. Thus began the First Cylon War.” McGee listening to the explanation in awe was struck by the end statement and said, “First?” Adama nodded after Athena translated the question. He then continued through Sharon, “Yes. The Cylons fought us to a standstill. Neither of us could destroy the other. Eventually an armistice was signed. They left the Twelve Colonies, and went into deep space. We had hoped to maintain relations but the Cylons didn’t respond. So many years went by many wondered if we would ever hear from them again. But we did, and in the worst way possible.” “They attacked didn’t they?” Duffy concluded. Lee replied, “Yes they did. Three years ago the Cylons launched a surprise attack against the Twelve Colonies. In the forty years between the two wars, the Cylon continued to evolve. They were able to make human models, and used this ability to infiltrate Colonial society and our military security.” Baltar used all his will power to keep from fidgeting, managing to stay subdued as Adama described the attack on the Colonies. Duffy and McGee saw Lt. Agathon, Sonja, and Claire shifted uncomfortably. Both men glanced at each other with their eyes. They knew something was up. They listened as Athena described the destruction of the Colonies and their military forces. McGee said, “My God...” Duffy was picturing something like that happening to the Navy. It made his skin crawl, “How many?” Lee shook his head, “No one has exact numbers. 50,000 escaped with Galactica our total population was near 20 billion.” McGee and the other civilians in the room paled. Nothing on Earth, not even World War II came close to the death these people had experienced. “I’m so sorry, our condolences.” McGee offered. “Thank you. Galactica has shepherd our civilian fleet we have suffered loses along the way. We have 35,000 people left now and we hope they can find a place here on Earth.” Lee added. McGee shook his head, “We hope to discuss many issues including possible settlement. There are many details to work out first. One area I would like to work out an agreement on is emergency aid.” As Athena translated, Duffy kept thinking about the numbers. They started out with 50,000 thousand they’re down to 30,000, how? “Mr. Secretary if you don’t mind I have a question.” Duffy interrupted. McGee was a little surprised but allowed the Admiral to continue. Preparing himself Duffy leaned forward, “You suffered many loses, I was wondering how did they occur?” Athena exchanged glances with Lee. The other Colonials were uncomfortable, especially the twins and the very attractive blonde. Adama was still trying to come up with the right reply. Sonja spoke, “The Colonials suffered losses from disease, lack of resources, and combat fatalities. Many of their citizens were lost on a world called New Caprica.” McGee and the others noted the separation when she spoke of the Colonials. He followed up, “What happened on New Caprica?” Claire answered, “The Cylons found them…we found them.” Silence hung over the room. Duffy broke it with one word, “Shit.” Situation Room The White House President Hayes was beginning to hate this room. She was seriously considering making it an order unless she had to be down here, no more meetings would be held in the Sit Room. However Allison knew she was just fuming. A room wasn’t responsible for bad news. Just once I want to come down here and get good news, we’ve found buried treasure or universal peace has broken out, the President jokingly thought. “Sean, you sure this isn’t some BS tale designed to gain our sympathy.” Secretary Keller asked her subordinate. They had established a video teleconference with the George Bush. Sitting in set of three flat screens were Sean McGee, Admiral Duffy, and Alex Monroe from CIA. The first official meeting with Colonials was in recess while both sides dealt with the latest information. McGee responded to his boss’s question, “No Madam Secretary. This was a truthful tale. They are not sharing some details, that’s for sure but it isn’t a lie.” Jack Robertson hissed, “This is the plot of a bad movie or TV show.” “As much as I wished that to be true Jack, we are in a very difficult spot.” General Emerson shared his feelings. President Hayes broke out of her mental funk, “I’m still having trouble with this. There are two groups of Cylons?” Sean McGee took the lead, “Madam President it seems that the Cylons have been hunting the Colonials since the start of their second war. After the occupation of the Twelve Colonies, rifts began to appear in Cylon society. Some led by a group influential Cylons thought the war against the Colonials was a mistake. This resulted in an attempt to co-exist with the Colonials.” “New Caprica?” the President asked. Duffy took over, “Yes ma’am. However the Cylons marched in. Instead of winning hearts and minds they decided to enforce cooperation at gun point. Colonial resistance didn’t help matters. Eventually they got off that rock. The Cylons were back in space after that, hunting the Colonial Fleet. Now it seems the Cylons are not giving us the full story, but another spilt occurred. This one has resulted in a Civil War. A faction made up of what they call models Two, Six, and Eight decided to ally with the Colonials.” Hayes was confused, “Why?” “It seems they were being hunted by the other Cylons. Plus they helped the Colonials find Earth somehow.” McGee finished. “And if they can do it, why not these other Cylons.” Emerson stated. Baker agreed, “Based on what they have told us, the Cylons could show up at any time. We are not ready.” President Hayes didn’t like it when her two top military advisors were predicting doom, “How bad is it General, Mr. Secretary?” Baker looked at Emerson and vice versa. They mentally asked the other who should start first. Deciding since he was the one to first speak, he should elaborate Emerson began, “Madam President as it stands we are not prepared to fight an enemy that controls space. The Cylons could park themselves in orbit like the Colonials and start raining down missiles on our cities and bases. We’d be hard pressed to stop them.” “Plus anything we might come up with” Baker added, “Like modifying an ICBM or one of the ABM weapons might be useless. The Cylons operate fighters like the Colonials. We now know one of their ships was involved in the incident in China. Although it was an accident that ship had no problem taking out the PLAAF planes. A missile or HKV in orbit with no maneuverability, it’d be like shooting fish in a barrel.” “So we’re defenseless?” she summarized. “Not completely. Our F-22s were able to get close to the Colonial craft without being detected. They even admit our stealth systems were working against their DRADIS. If they came down into the atmosphere we could make them pay for it.” Baker offered. Duffy decided to throw his two cents in, “Mr. Chairmen if you don’t mind?” Emerson indicated he had no problem with Duffy speaking. The Admiral continued, “The Cylons have also engaged in occupations. They might not want to wipe us out. If they want to mix it up on the ground I like our chances. Of course if they run into trouble then they could fall back on attacking us from orbit.” “Alright assume the Cylons show up within the next week, what do we do?” Hayes asked. Baker shifted in his seat, “We could always tell the Colonials no. Inform them that we cannot allow them to settle here.” Keller was aghast, “After what they’ve been through? Jesus Harold they’ve lost ninety-nine percent of their population is gone. You want to tell them, sorry but we aren’t involved in your little problem please leave?” “Do you think I like that idea? It is one that people are going to suggest. Some of our own allies will be for it. Plus it might mean something to the Cylons should they show up.” Baker hated his suggestion but it needed to be said. “Respectfully Mr. Secretary I disagree. Even if we send the Colonials on their way, this Cavil and his forces might blast just based on the fact we are human. This is a war of hate for him. He blames the Colonials for the suffering of his forerunners; I doubt he’d be willing to listen to our arguments considering we are pretty well defenseless.” Duffy stated. President Hayes shook her head, “No. We can’t just send them away in a chance to save ourselves.” McGee coughed, “Madam President there is also another issue. Earth just isn’t a possible home to the Colonials. It was suggested that some members of the Fleet see us as a Promised Land. That their Gods brought them here, and they might take issues with our version of events.” “There’s no truth to this, is there?” Hayes ventured. An NSC member replied, “Madam President Earth’s fossil record stretches back millions of years. Humans and our predecessors are there as well. I can’t theorize on how humans got to space, but we came from this planet.” “We’ll worry about the details later.” Hayes decided, “First thing, I am not going to turn these people away. Even with these Cylons in their Fleet. The Colonials have entrusted them enough to have one as an officer.” McGee reinforced that notion, “It seems the Colonials are working with the Cylons. According to them the alliance they’ve agreed upon has held. They’ve shared intelligence and even engaged in combat together. Also the Cylons, Sonja and Claire have been more than willing to let Mr. Adama take the lead in these meetings.” “Alright this is bigger than we thought, if that is even possible.” Hayes said, “We need a meeting and I mean today with the Ambassadors of the major powers. I want a short brief written for them. Secretary McGee, Admiral Duffy, keep talking with the Colonials and Cylons. Let them know we aren’t going to turn them away. I want as much information on their military abilities as possible. If you have anything before we are ready to go here with the Ambassadors let us know.” “Yes Madam President.” The younger man answered. The feed from the carrier ended. “Harold, General Emerson I have an idea. Julie I want your feed back as well.” The President started before outlining what she hoped would be the start of a plan. *USS George H.W. Bush* “So what do we think?” Lee asked the group as they waited. Sonja sighed, “They weren’t happy with our news, however I don’t see how they would in any situation.” Starbuck offered, “Duffy was mad but not at us or even you I think. McGee was concerned. Even if they don’t want to kick us off the planet their bosses might not be so favorable.” Baltar decided to risk the wrath of the others with his opinion, “They are waiting for orders from their superiors. I believe Mr. McGee was impressed by our recent cooperation with the Cylons. He also might see the Rebel Cylon allow the Colonials to take the lead as a positive sign as well.” Lee paced with his hands in his pockets, “Well it’s out of our hands now. Baltar do they have any chance if the Cylons did come?” “Well I’ve only seen a little of this ship. However based on what I saw of their aircraft technology and what I was briefed on before coming down here, gives me the impression that they are weak in space. They would need massive help before they could try to mount a defense.” Claire added, “Hopefully they can see what we can do for them.” “But it will take time.” Baltar warned, “I’m not even sure we can do it with the resources here on this planet. We won’t know anything without further meetings.” Athena sighed, “None of this will matter if they tell us to leave.” There was a knock at the door. Sharon turned and opened it. Waiting was Deputy Secretary of State McGee and Admiral Duffy. The civilian asked, “May we come in.” She checked with Lee who gestured them to come in. The two Americans entered and stood. McGee began, “We have discussed the situation with our government. President Hayes has decided that further discussions are necessary. Washington is working on bringing in the other world powers right now. She hopes to have a meeting with by the end of the day. Before that can happen we were hoping you could inform us of some of your and the Cylon’s military capabilities.” It took a moment for what Sean said to sink in. Starbuck quieted a yell of excitement. They are going to let us stay, she thought. For a moment it didn’t matter that Earth wasn’t what they expected, or that the Cylons might show up, they had home. Lee sighed and held out his hand. McGee took it. As the shook Lee commented, “I’m thankful and sorry at the same time.” As Athena translated, Duffy shook Lee’s hand and said, “Yeah it won’t be easy but we’ll figure it out together.” McGee finished with the Colonials and then offered his hand to Sonja, “All of us, humans and machines.” She nodded and took it. Starbuck relaxed and smiled, “Anybody got a drink?” Cabinet Room The White House It was unusual. Unless it was an official meeting or scheduled event, they usually met one on one. The men and women in the room were the Ambassadors from some of the major powers on the planet. Although to have them all called together by the American President was unusual, they all suspected the cause, the spaceships above. All of their countries had reacted different ways. All had put their militaries on increased alert however except for the Chinese none had any trouble from their visitors. Even though it had been a week since the spacecraft had arrived, no one had succeeded with communicating with them. Of course that was the public line. The countries that were American allies knew something was up. It was impossible for those with satellite intelligence platforms to not notice the Atlantic 2nd Fleet stationed in the middle of the North Atlantic simply circling the same spot. The Russians carefully had shared their intelligence on the intercepted American-Colonial messages to the Chinese and a few others who were not represented in the room. Both the PRC and Russian ambassadors talked in hushed tones to each other working out how to respond to the Americans. A new arrival entered the room, Secretary of State Keller, “Ambassadors, thank you for coming on such short notice. The President will be arriving in a minute if we could please take out seats.” The men and women moved to different chairs. A White House staffer had managed to find some nameplates for each country and quickly worked out a seating arrangement. More American officials arrived, including Secretary of Defense Baker, the Joint Chiefs of Staff led by General Emerson, some State Department people, and aides for all the above. The room was quite filled down between the Americans and all the ambassadors and their staff. Finally the last person arrived, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States.” Everyone stood again as Hayes entered the room, “Please everyone take a seat we don’t have time for ceremony. Thank you all for coming.” With everyone settled the President began, “I am sure you all know why you have been asked to come here. This meeting is of course about the spacecraft above the planet. As some of the most influential countries of the world and many of you members of the UN Security Council, our nations are expected to respond to this situation.” “Interesting you should say that Madam President.” The Russian Ambassador interrupted. He waited to see if anyone would try and stop him. No one did, event the President was waiting for him to continue, “Yes we are all here as major powers or members of the UN’s most important body, yet it seems your nation is moving to monopolize contact with the visitors.” “Outrageous.” The British Ambassador came to the defense of his country’s long time ally and cousins. “They were visited as was Russia and my country. How can they have monopolized contact with our visitors?” The French Ambassador asked her collogues. The Russian smiled, “Our intelligence sources have concrete proof the visitors called Colonials have contacted the United States, and that the United States has even opened negotiations with them.” All the Ambassadors began talking to their aides or neighbors. The Russian and Chinese looked confident, but noticed that neither Hayes nor her staff was fazed by his revelation. A skilled diplomat, the Russian knew that Hayes had something else up her sleeve. She nodded, “Ambassador Babryshkin is correct. The visitors did send us a message and we responded. A small delegation of them is now onboard the USS George Bush with the 2nd Fleet.” Some shouting occurred from the people in the room. The French and Germans gave the Americans dirty looks. They suspected something had been up, but nothing as far as face to face meetings. The British Ambassador sighed he was a little upset they were kept in the dark but not surprised by the news. Allison waited as all the Ambassadors blew off their steam then very undiplomatically stated, “Are we finished children?” That got everyone to shut up. Hayes took a breath and continued, “They contacted us. It was never my intention to withhold or monopolize communication with them. I hoped to find answers too many questions we and I’m sure you have.” “Such as how these visitors can be human.” The Japanese Ambassador calmly stated. “Yes. In fact we have a sample of what we have learned so far.” She nodded to the wall hugging aides around the room. They began to pass out briefing packets for each country. The Ambassadors snatched them up and began to read the summary at the beginning of each of their packets. One by one they became shocked and worried. Allison watched as the news hit them, and how much they realized things were going to change. It was time to hit them up, now before they could begin blustering again, “These people, they are people, are on the run for their lives. Against an enemy that has hunted across who knows how many light years. Some of these Cylons have joined them and wish to ally with us.” She paused, and then continued, “Even if we sent them away what would it get us? If the Colonials and Rebel Cylons found us then there is no reason the Loyalist Cylons can’t either.” “But we are not these Colonials!” the Chinese Ambassador complained, “How can this Cavil, blame us for their mistakes?” “The same way my people blamed Jews.” The German quietly said. He felt sympathy for the Rebel Cylons, who like his nation long ago had committed terrible crimes and had to live up to what they had done, “It isn’t about logic Xian, this Cavil has put all his problems, his rage, hate, anger into a single cause, regardless of the Colonials’ actual guilt. We’re human, we are his enemy.” “Hans is right.” President Hayes silently thanked the ambassador for that speech, it had worked, “One of my country’s founders said, ‘We shall either hang together, or hang separately’. No country on this planet will be safe if the Cylons come. Nor will the Colonials if we send them into space again. If either of our societies is going to survive we have to do it together.” The room was dead quiet. Closing his briefing packet the Russian Ambassador looked at the American leader, “What do you suggest?” Allison felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The first steps were underway. __________________ This is the Mark II Viper, it’s nimble as a jackrabbit and anyone not paying attention is likely to become a pile of muck that needs to be hosed out of the cockpit by the chief of the deck ""I will use every cannon, every bomb, every weapon in my arsenal down to my own eye-teeth to end you. I SWEAR IT! I'M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!"." -Laura Roslin Homecoming: Ch 1-5 Homecoming my BSG tale. PLEASE READ

Mar 12th 2009, 7:16am	#2
kclcmdr Kai The Kmpire! Fleet Captain Join Date: 12 Jun 2005 Location: NYC, NY Posts: 9,581	Great update... TOC : Viper II Fan.Graphics -.Viper Mark VIII- a merging of Mk II & VII Combo; Earth Electronics & HUD; Retractable 30mm Cannon Turrent Viper II Fan.Prologue -.RTF- Adama&Dualla, Laura&Hoshi, Galactica&Basestar, Gaeta; Earth; Miller, Space Boogies, Hayes&Bower, Emerson, DEFCON3 Viper II Fan.CH_01 -.Earth- Smith, England; Allison&Emerson; Laura&Bill, Gaeta, Lots Of Languages, Starbuck, Higgins, Athena, Wi Ching, China Booms Viper II Fan.CH_02 -.WhiteHouse- Hayes, EU&Russia, Emerson, Adama&D'Anna, Gaeta, Languages, Laura&Starbuck, Incident, BBC, Dee, Earth Culture Viper II Fan.CH_03 -.Galactica- Baltar, Head6. Emerson&Hayes, PRESS, China Incident, D'Anna, Tory, Leoben&Helo, Laura, Msg Sent, Russians Listening Viper II Fan.CH_04 -.Kremlin- Bunker, Putin&SVR, RedAlert, MonitorComms, Medvedev; Galactica; Adama&Tigh, Hayes&Laura, Athena, Rebels&Loyalists, Ellen Viper II Fan.CH_05 -.First Date- Cottle; Biological, Laura&D'Anna, Adama, Baltar&Lee, Zarek, GeorgeHWBush, Emerson&Hayes, Sharon&Jones, Clones&Cylons? Viper II Fan.CH_06 -.Time2Learn- Kara&Lee, Talks&Meetings, Sharon, CableTV, Sonja, Baltar, McGee&Duffy, Hayes&Keller, Baker, Babryshkin&Xian, Cavilists Viper II Fan.CH_07 -.Reservations- Adama&Tigh, StarbuckCoffee, Playa&Laura, Emerson, Racetrack&Helo, Kara&Claire, Robertson, Zarek, Hayes, Politics Viper II Fan.CH_08 -.DayBreak- Hayes&Dmitry, Hoshi&Tigh, Adama&Roslin, Landing, Zarek, Lee&D'Anna; Geneva; Sonja, Conference, Tyrol, Galactica Viper II Fan.CH_09 -.ANewWorld- Viper&Raider, Mustand, MilesSYS, Kara, D.C., Adama, Anders&TheRaufoss, Lee&Laura, Baltar, Embassy, Firefight, Sam Viper II Fan.CH_10 -.EquivalentResponse- WhiteHouse, Hayes&Allison, Lee, Ruhdorfer&Annika, Keller, Robertson, HopkinsHospital, Adama, Anders, HeKnows Viper II Fan.CH_11 -.BaseStarRenegade- Sixes&Eights, Racetrack&Jeff, Adama&Emerson, Tyrol, Galleon City, Porter&Zarek, Gemonese, Helo, Blue, Iran xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Discussion Only I : Homecoming -Reached 500 Posts. Discussion Only II : Homecoming. -New Comment Thread Story Only : Homecoming. REPEAT : Please post all comments here in this link below by the author Viper Pilot II. Discussion Only I : Homecoming -Reached 500 Posts. Discussion Only II : Homecoming. -New Comment Thread __________________ Only the Strong, the bold and the most determine shall reach the Stars and stay there..... Do not meddle in the affairs of the Thirteenth Tribe for you are easily scrapped and a convenient source of high-grade alloy Last edited by kclcmdr; Oct 17th 2009 at 6:20pm.

Mar 12th 2009, 9:11am	#4
Viper II Fan WWII Dalek Join Date: 30 Sep 2005 Location: Crushed under a Dalek Posts: 1,531	This is a story only thread. Please follow kclcmdr's links above to reach the discussion thread and other chapters. Thank You. __________________ This is the Mark II Viper, it’s nimble as a jackrabbit and anyone not paying attention is likely to become a pile of muck that needs to be hosed out of the cockpit by the chief of the deck ""I will use every cannon, every bomb, every weapon in my arsenal down to my own eye-teeth to end you. I SWEAR IT! I'M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!"." -Laura Roslin Homecoming: Ch 1-5 Homecoming my BSG tale. PLEASE READ

Mar 22nd 2009, 8:27pm	#5
Viper II Fan WWII Dalek Join Date: 30 Sep 2005 Location: Crushed under a Dalek Posts: 1,531	Chapter Seven: Getting a Reservation Admiral’s Quarters Battlestar Galactica Adama grunted as he came out of the depths of sleep. He had fallen asleep in his rack with piles of reports and other papers on his chest and lap. Carefully he shifted position grabbing the piles before they could go all over the place. Once he had them out of the way, Adama swung out of the bunk feet first and put his glasses on. Even though he still had his trousers on, Bill put his old robe on. Moving the piles of paper on his desk he headed to the bathroom. He then began his routine of running the water over his toothbrush, starting the shower, and taking his medication. The chest scars from his surgery were giving Adama pain. Cottle prescribed some pain pills for him with the warning that there were not that many left. Guess that’s not a problem anymore, he thought as he started brushing his teeth. Several of the reports he read last night dealt with news from Lee’s mission on Earth. Things were going well; Lee was in daily meeting with different representatives from the major powers on Earth. Conference calls between him, Bill, Laura and the Quorum occurred every few hours. They had finished working out the details of humanitarian aid for the civilians. Adama was going to meet with Helo in about an hour to review his plan for receiving the shipments. Coming with these shipments would be the first visitors from Earth. Doctors and military representatives form different countries were scheduled to begin visiting Galactica. Laura was hoping some of the food, new clothes, and medicine coming from Earth would end some of the unrest in the Fleet. So far there had been mostly organized protests. Baltar’s little group caused most of them on Galactica. Others in different ships were caused by a mix of groups. The captains of Hitte Kan and Monarch were threatening to suspend their services to the Fleet if they didn’t get a chance to get their crews some well earned rest. A little heart to heart with Colonel Tigh had gotten them to shut up for now. Only one real incident had been problematic. One of the smaller ships had nearly had a hijacking. A group of civilians stormed the bridge with weapons demanding the captain bring them down to Earth. The ship broke formation and began to head towards the planet. Adama had quickly ordered the CAP to isolate the ship. It worked after one of the Vipers fired some warning shots off her bow. Marines then went in and arrested the hijackers. Except for the hijacking Bill didn’t blame the people for having complaints. After all this time they finally had reached Earth, they wanted off the merry-go round. Part of him felt like they did, frak it let’s just get down there and enjoy the feel of it. However he knew that wasn’t possible not just yet. First off they needed somewhere to go that would allow people to get use to be planet side again. Also it had to be large enough to accommodate 30,600 people. Since most of those spots were taken below a deal needed to be reached with one of the owners, the nations of Earth. Based on the last time Lee and they had talked it would most likely be somewhere controlled by the United States. Standing in the shower Adama thought about the planet below. He had enjoyed his brief visits to New Caprica. Earth had a much better climate then New Caprica; he was looking forward to it getting down on the dirt taking a feel of it, a fist full of Earth. Rinsing his hair with the water as best he could (his shampoo ran out two months earlier) Bill knew he would only be able to enjoy a short vacation. Earth needed to upgrade and fast. They were behind in everything related to space flight, according to Baltar. They still relied on big heavy chemical rockets. Although they had a giant satellite network they had no means of achieving orbit cheaply. That’s what we change first, Adama had decided. Shuttles, Raptors, some of the civilian ships that could be retrofitted would be able to lift huge amounts into orbit for them. Laura even figured they could charge for the service and find plenty of buyers. Adama left the economics to the civilians all he cared about was getting Earth in space and fast. He already had a few of the pilots and crew doing research in the materials that would have been part of Galactica’s museum. By time he began meeting with the different military leaders below, Adama wanted to present them with some plans. Finished with his shower and now drying off, Adama quickly got dressed. As he was putting his uniform on there was a knock at his hatch. “Come in.” he called. Tigh opened the door and walked right in, “Morning Admiral.” “Same to you Saul, what’s the word?” Tigh carried a clipboard with all the stuff he had flagged for the Admiral’s attention. Gaeta originally had handed Tigh a pile that was twice as big. Like a good XO he weeded out what didn’t need to be dealt with, answered what he could, and then left only the bare essentials for the Admiral. He always started with the most important item, the ship’s war fighting ability, “Six birds down for maintenance today, four Vipers, one Raptor, and a refueler. Laird says he can have half of them up by this afternoon. However the Raptor is being a bitch, Laird said it has a software problem in the nav gear.” “Got it, make a note for me to see Specialist Tyrol later.” Adama acknowledged then added. “Thinking of giving him his job back?” Adama sighed, “He always has been a good deck chief.” “Well we might need to fight with the Basestar to keep him. Seems he’s been over there more than here, an unofficial deck chief for the Rebels.” Tigh explained. “If he wants off the ship he just has to ask.” Adama stated. “Anyway Mr. Gaeta says DRADIS needs to be taken offline soon for some serious work. We can rely on the Basestar and their sensors take but...” Bill knew where he was going, “Increase the number of Raptor patrols in the system.” Tigh nodded. Neither he nor Bill wanted to rely just on the Cylons for warning of an attack, “Last thing is Dogville had another act of disobedience last night. Seems they want to get to Earth so bad they had a sit in front of the munitions bay. We couldn’t transfer ammo for an hour while the Marines took people into custody.” “Bring the Mayor down here. She and I need to have a talk about protests on a warship.” Adama said taking a seat at his little table, “We ready for our guests?” “Got most of the worst stuff covered, CIC is looking good, we should impress them.” Tigh replied. He had ordered crews to work through the night to make Galactica look as presentable as possible before the 13th Tribe’s people came aboard. The Admiral sighed, “Good. The rest of that can wait, grab a seat and let’s enjoy this.” Tigh took his seat and asked, “So this is the last of our coffee?” Adama took a pot and poured his friend a glass, “Yes. I’ve told Lee to get some more right behind Cottle’s cigarettes.” He then poured himself a cup. Lifting it up, he toasted, “To the last of the Caprican Coast Coffee, we shall miss you.” Tigh and Adama clicked their cups together completing the toast. Then both began to drink. Tigh after a sip asked, “How is Earth coffee?” Adama cracked a smile, “Lee says it’s pretty good. Do you want to know what company sells tons of it down there?” Tigh indicated that he did, Adama began to chuckle, “Starbucks.” “Oh my Gods.” Tigh managed to get out before he was laughing his ass off as well. *Colonial One* The press seemed to be in a more peaceful mood than usual. They only asked her twenty times about when the Fleet was going to Earth than the hundred they usually did since the Fleet had arrived. Probably because they were more interested in the fact the first visitors from Earth were coming to the Fleet. Playa Palacios one of the few remaining reporters who had been one before the fall of the Colonies was asking her, “Madam President why are the guests from Earth only touring the Galactica?” “Well Playa we are still working out the biological and other medical concerns. Once we can confirm that our two peoples can interact without making each other sick then we will see about visits to other ships.” Laura answered, “Also Galactica has the only sophisticated medical facility left. That’s where Dr. Cottle and the physicians from Earth will be meeting to address the Fleet’s needs.” She picked another reporter, this one who had become one in the wake of the attacks. “President Roslin, how many officials from the Thirteenth Tribe are coming to the Fleet?” “Several. Some military and civilians leaders, including the medical officials, thank you that will be all for today.” Laura finished. Laura turned away from the dozens of question shouted even though she had just finished taking questions. Entering her office area after a short walk her new aide said, “Admiral Adama would like you to return his call.” “Thank you Jim, could you please get the notes from the last Quorum meeting.” She asked taking her seat. He nodded and walked out of the room. Laura picked up her phone and asked the communication officer up in the cockpit to put her through to Galactica. When connected she got Lt. Dualla who then transferred her over to Bill in his cabin, “Hello.” “Hi.” She answered, “I just got done facing the lions.” “I heard on the wireless, you sounded good.” He said giving her some support. “Thanks. Are we all ready for our visitors?” Laura asked. Adama took a minute to respond, “Sorry been reviewing Helo’s plan. Yeah the crews are all briefed, Tigh has whipped everyone into shape, and I managed to find a fairly clean uniform, how about you?” Laura smiled imagining Tigh’s version of motivation and Adama going through his closet, “Yes. I’ll take a Raptor over in an hour.” “Good. How are you feeling?” he ventured. Laura instantly thought of her hair. Her wig was on but for some reason she removed it. Looking at it she answered, “A little woozy. Cottle’s getting me back on schedule for Deloxin.” “Earth might have some different ways to tackle this. After we get down there we need to look into it.” Bill said quietly. He doesn’t want to face it, she knew. Laura spoke softly, “I’m the dying leader Bill. My job is done.” Adama got angry, “Frak Pythia or any of that bullshit. Back when you and I started the odds were that we wouldn’t last a week. Now look at us, we found the map on Kobol, survived New Caprica, and even made an alliance with the Cylons! Frak prophesy Laura, you are going to beat the odds too.” She was starting to cry. He’s a soldier always fighting, he doesn’t want to let go, Laura thought. It made her smile, he’s so frakking stubborn and that’s why I love him. “Is that an order Admiral?” she asked. “Damn right it is Madam President.” “Alright we’ll talk more about it later. I’ll see you soon.” Laura added. “See you soon.” He answered in a low soft voice. The line clicked off. Laura sighed and put her wig back on. Making sure it was decent in a small mirror on her desk she was finished adjusting it by time Jim got back in. Nellis Air Force Base Las Vegas, Nevada Jack wanted to go back inside but couldn’t, not without wimping out. He wasn’t use to hot climates. Born in New Jersey, Robertson could handle nor’easters and blizzards without a sweat. Hot weather though always seemed to get to him. The dry air was leaving him feeling dehydrated. He took another swig from the once cold now room temperature water in his hand. “Tough it up Jack, don’t want to seem like a wimp in front of our ride do you?” Emerson laughed. He was more than comfortable in the heat unlike the White House man. Robertson, staring at the general that had probably more than enough experience with desert climates from all the time he spent in Iraq. The National Security Advisor and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs were waiting with the first of the aid shipments that would be going up to the Colonial Fleet. They along with a few other select people from the major powers would be going up with the supplies to visit the Galactica. The General had elected to wait out with the crews. Jack not wanting to be left out or seem like he was nervous followed Emerson out there. “When are they coming?” Jack asked. “1200 hours, any minute now.” Emerson replied. He was looking forward to this. The last time Emerson had done anything like this was back during the Cold War. As things thawed in the eighties, NATO officers were allowed to visit their Soviet counterparts. It had been a rush to see the equipment Emerson and his fellow soldiers were expected to fight against and Soviet doctrine at work first hand. Now he got see an entirely new type of force, a military unit designed to fight in space. “General. AWACS has them coming down. F-15s are waiting to escort them down.” An aide reported from a Hummer parked not too far away. Some troops from the Air Force security team were deployed with the supply station. He nodded and looked skywards even though the general knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything for several minutes. Already an E-3 was tracking the Colonial Vipers and Raptors, along with a group of shuttles to carry up supplies. Soon they would meet with a flight of F-15Cs. Emerson wasn’t worried about hostile action anymore; he was more concerned about the media. In the days following the Colonial arrival, the press had devoted 24/7 coverage to the event. First it was the vague information and bull-shiting from the networks. They had no real information so they brought on their so called ‘experts’. Some were better than others but most didn’t have a clue as to what was actually happening. Press conferences by the President, different levels of government, other nations gave more information. When it became clear the new arrivals in orbit hadn’t done anything threatening, people began to calm down. As more information began to leak, the media speculated on the movements of the Atlantic 2nd Fleet and whether it was related to the aliens. Eventually the rumors got good enough to suggest the Colonials were out on the carrier. The Russians in preparation with the Chinese to negotiate their way into talks had leaked information. All of it suggested that the U.S. was trying to make a one sided deal with the aliens. However after learning about the threat the Cylons posed, the two countries abandoned their original plan and stopped the links. Now they had agreed to work with the U.S. to control information. After hammering out the details between the various countries that had been brought in on the full story, the President had a joint press conference with the ambassadors of the cooperating nations. In the conference, she told everyone the basics of the Colonial story, that the ships were full of humans and that they needed a home. The full news of the Cylons and the threat they posed was being kept under wraps for the moment. No one wanted to start a panic. Even now discussions were occurring on how best to deal with the threat posed by the Loyalist Cylons. Till some rough idea was brought forward, the news would be classified. The aid shipments and agreement were public knowledge. At several bases in Europe, Russia, China, and the U.S. relief aide had been collected. Colonial ships would come down to load it. Although they had managed to keep the media off the bases, they had decided to surround each base with cameras and reporters. There had also been some talk that the major networks were going to rent private jets and fly into the airspace to try and get pictures, hence the F-15s. Nothing like a jet fighter loaded with missiles to make you back off, Emerson thought with a smile. Of course the media issue was only an American and European problem. The Russians and Chinese had of course strict press controls. “When is the transport in from Andrews?” Robertson asked breaking Emerson’s thoughts. “1230. They’ll be here soon.” The chairman answered. It was decided that the Colonials would be bringing back one of their officers, Captain Kara Thrace and the Marines sent down for security. The Rebel Cylons wanted Claire Eight to report to them so she would be going back on the supply trip as well. “General Emerson. Razorback reports they have the Colonial ships, ETA ten minutes.” The aide called in with an update, the F-15 squadron had found the Colonials. “Great, tell the tower to bring them in.” Raptor 545 Racetrack wished she could talk to the American pilots over the wireless. However she didn’t have the language skills and the Rebel Cylon communicating with the ground and fighters hadn’t been paired with them for the mission. They were all riding in their Heavy Raiders. Captain Agathon, Helo was sitting next to her, “Relax Racetrack you’ll have plenty of time to get to know them. Remember we are going to settle here.” “Yeah I know but frak me, I have to learn a whole new language?” Helo smiled, “The price you pay to fraternize with the locals.” The F-15s were leading them to what Athena had told him yesterday was Nellis Air Force Base. A massive facility used by the American Air Force for training, war-games, and testing. He could clearly see it on the Raptor’s cameras. A Leoben model in one of the Heavy Raiders flying with the formation playing the role of translator called Helo letting them know that it was time to begin their final descent. “Alright Racetrack let’s bring her down, nothing too fancy. Remember we got those shuttles behind us.” Helo ordered. Following the Raptor was additional two for transport of the Earth guests. Behind them were six large shuttles that would take supplies up to the Fleet. Four Vipers were riding shotgun and the two Heavy Raiders. It was quite the procession. Karl watched as the ground was coming closer. He smiled. From what Athena had told him, the United States was an interesting place. Karl wondered how long it would be before his family could find somewhere down there to live. Snapping back to the present he listened as Racetrack called out their altitude. Helo saw the cargo pallets and tons of supplies gathered one end of the huge complex. Some people were watching as they came in. “All eyes are on us Racetrack, make it look good.” He said. “Got it, here we go.” She answered. The Raptor fired its belly thrusters, slowing as it came down. Behind them the Vipers slowed and began to circle the perimeter of the base. Cameramen from dozens of different networks and shows fought to get good looks at the fighters as they did their lazy circles overhead. Some kept their cameras on the larger shuttles as they came down. Most lost views of the ships as they went behind buildings. Emerson whistled as the big bulky shuttles came down. The Raptors were impressive along with the Vipers further off in the distance. Robertson just shook his head, can’t believe they were flying so easily. Must be some sort of anti-grav technology or those engines are way more powerful than anything we’ve thought of, he pondered his intelligence mind trying to figure it all out. Helo’s Raptor touched down with the other two. Emerson then got to look at the Cylon Heavy Raiders. He knew these were the model that had been involved in the accident with the Chinese. Now he understood why the PLAAF pilots might have felt threatened. First off the damn thing had a head. A red glowing eye moved back and forth across a black strip. Six cannons probably 25mm or 30mm jutted out of its front. For whatever reason Emerson thought of the burly Russian Hind attack helicopters when he saw the Heavy Raider. Like the Russian bird had in his youth, this thing gave him the creeps. The Colonials and Cylons began to disembark. Turning to Robertson he said, “Guess that’s our cue.” The two men with a small security force walked over to the Colonial commander. Captain Karl Agathon they had been told. He was married to the Colonial Cylon who had been working with them since communications had been opened. One of the Cylons a man walked over. He joined Captain Agathon and another pilot. Finally standing next to them Emerson started, “Welcome to Nellis Air Force Base. I’m General George Emerson, Chairman of the United States Joint Chiefs of Staff. This is Jack Robertson President Hayes’s National Security Advisor.” Emerson watched as the Cylon a model Two as he understood it translated. Captain Agathon straightened up and snapped off a salute. The American general returned it and automatically replied, “At ease.” “This is Captain Karl Agathon and Lieutenant Margaret Edmondson. You can call me Henry.” The Two added giving a name. Robertson stepped forward and shook hands with everyone, “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” Helo asked a question to Henry who nodded, “Captain Agathon would like to know if we can start loading the supplies and whether Captain Thrace has arrived.” Emerson answered, “Captain Thrace’s flight is inbound now. She should arrive in the next half hour. We can begin loading your ships now if you wish.” Helo got the translation and acknowledged he did. The Colonials, Cylons, and Air Force people got to work. Using the Cylons as translators the Colonials indicated what should be loaded and where. Four of the shuttles had ramps which they lowered making loading easier. Forklifts, pallet movers, and other vehicles were able to drive right up into the shuttle and load the supplies. The other two older models had no ramps. Cargo needed to be loaded viva a human conveyor belt. While the loading occurred, Emerson, Robertson and the others got to look over the ships. Henry speaking for Racetrack and Helo answered as many questions as they could. While Emerson represented the U.S. Military, there was a Russian Air Force Colonel, PLA Major, RAF Colonel and his Luftwaffe counterpart, and a French officer who Emerson figured was Special Forces. Except for the Frenchmen the others were all military liaisons from their country’s embassies. The other part of the group going up, the doctors were checking their equipment and supplies not interested in the space ships (but still stealing the occasionally glance). All they needed now was Captain Thrace and her men. VC-20 Over Nevada Starbuck had never eaten so well in years. She didn’t count the meals she had while locked up with Leoben. After making sure they wouldn’t kill themselves eating anything from Earth, the doctors slowly increased their food intake. Finally she was able to eat something without fear of it overwhelming her system. The lunch they served on board the private jet was wonderful. A steak sandwich with grilled onions and fired strips of potato they called French Fries. It was fantastic. The two Marines with her had to use Claire to ask for more of the potatoes. It had amazed Starbuck on how so much of their food was similar but also different. Kara was feeling a little depressed to be going back. After three years of war she had finally gotten a real break. It was a vacation she wasn’t ready to end. However it would be nice to get back and see the Old Man and the bucket. “Ready to go back?” the Eight asked her. Starbuck leaned back enjoying the leather of her seat, “Almost just wish it would last a little bit longer.” Claire smiled, “Yes this world is nice.” She was convinced more than ever that Earth could be somewhere the Cylons could live in peace with these humans. Now it was time to start thinking about what needed to be done to ensure that. Kara closed her eyes and thought about the future as well. Unlike New Caprica she would not be leaving the Fleet this time. Earth couldn’t afford her taking time off; it couldn’t afford the any of the crew of Galactica taking time off. Cavil’s forces were still out there. Earth needed to build up its capabilities and fast. She had already spoken with the Admiral one what needed to be done. Starbuck used some of them time on the plane to work on some long term recommendations based on what she had learned about the planet’s armed forces. First off they needed to start making Vipers. She wasn’t an engineer and didn’t know how hard it would be to start making the airframes, materials, or electronics that made the aerospace fighters work. However the nations on this planet had large aerospace industries. At the very least they were very experienced in building high-tech aircraft. She figured a Viper based on either the Mark II or VII could be readied in a year or two. Kara knew that more would be needed. There was no guarantee that they would get that much time. So she worked on some very quick and dirty ideas as well. The Admiral would have his own ideas she knew. The plane’s captain made an announcement, Claire translated it for her, “We are getting ready to land.” “Finally.” Starbuck sighed. She wasn’t use to flying without herself at the controls for so long. Hops between the ships in the fleet took minutes not hours. Eagerly she awaited the end of the flight. ......................... It was the first time Kara had stood outside in harsh light and heat since the Algae Planet. She wished for her sunglasses which were in somebody else’s hands on board Galactica following the pilot auction after her ‘death’. It was actually the first time in days she has wondered about that. Her resurrection was still as much of a mystery to her as it was to everyone else. What little time she was giving to think about it ended as Helo came over. “It’s good to see you.” He said giving her a salute then a hug. She rolled her eyes, “Alright I’ve only been gone a frakkin week. Gods Helo what’s going to happen when you finally see your wife again, jump her right there on the flight deck?” Karl gave her a smart-ass look that suggested he might. Kara laughed and followed him away from the American aircraft. Claire and the Marines followed behind. One of the Cylons had walked up to the Eight and was already in a discussion. “How is the loading going?” Kara asked. “Great we’ll be loaded in another twenty minutes.” Helo answered, “Just a heads up that guy over there is the top American military man.” They were approaching Emerson and Robertson. She could tell Emerson was brass thanks to all those medals. Plus he reminder her a bit of the old man, the silver hair, weathered face, he carried the look of a man who had been a soldier his whole life. When they were up close Kara stood straight and saluted. “At ease Captain.” Emerson answered returning the salute as the Two, Henry translated. She then shook hands with the civilian Robertson. “Since everyone is here are we ready to head up to the Fleet?” Helo asked the group. Emerson and Robertson indicated they were. Starbuck nodded too and helped Helo check on the loading progress. Three shuttles were fully loaded. Medical personnel had been put on one with their equipment and were ready to go. The Cylons would stay behind with one of the Raptors and escort the other shuttles back to Galactica when they finished taking on their cargo. Starbuck and Helo escorted their guests to the two Raptors that would take them up. The international group got in the second Raptor while Emerson and Robertson joined Kara, Helo, and Claire in Racetrack’s bird. The general and former intelligence analyst took in everything inside the Colonial ship. Electronics covered the walls with some web seats similar to what one would find on an Air Force C-130 for passengers. The cockpit was small with controls between Helo and the pilot Racetrack. Emerson watched as Captain Thrace took a seat in what he assumed was the Electronic Warfare Officer or Weapons Officer station in the back with him. She called on their radio speaking in the odd Greek Latin mix. Claire the Rebel Cylon informed them they were getting ready to lift off so they should hang on. A roar from the engines lighting up confirmed that fact. Robertson watched as Racetrack pulled back on her stick, which caused the Raptor to lift off the ground. Both men were experienced helicopter riders but the take off by the Colonial attack bird was different. Jack thought it was faster, more nimble, he wondered if it was due to the anti-grav tech he suspected they had. Emerson stared out the huge cockpit windows. The sky was rapidly passing them by. He got to see two of the Colonial Vipers as the shot pass the Raptors heading for space. Their size was quite deceptive. Inside that small fighter was a fast and maneuverable plane, although he thought the F-22 had cleaner lines. “We’re about to enter orbit. I assume neither of you have done that before?” Claire asked. Both men shook their heads in the negative. Jack watched as the blue sky retreated, blackness began to replace it. Then finally there was no more sky, just the blackness of space, blackness that was now filled with stars. Racetrack made another correction to the Raptor’s flight. They pitched down and got the sight of their lives, Earth from low orbit. “My god...” Jack said aloud his mouth hanging open. Emerson said nothing, too captivated by the sight. He had seen pictures of his home planet from space but the real thing blew them all away. Starbuck watched as the two men shared the same expression a child from the Colonies did the first time they went into space. She sighed, wishing that feeling still existed for her. “Galactica, Raptor 545 coming in with the first of the supply run and our guests.” Helo called their home. Lt. Hoshi in CIC responded, “We have you Raptor 545, contact the LSO and come on home.” While Helo and Racetrack got ready for the landing, Emerson and Robertson got their first look at the Colonial Fleet with their own eyes. Jack’s first thought was wow. He had seen images of the Battlestar Galactica for over a week, but nothing prepared him for the size of the thing up close. The Raptor was tiny compared to massive warship. While Jack was impressed with the size, Emerson noted the battle damage on the hull. This ship has been through hell and back, he thought, every scar, blast damage, missing gun a sign of their struggle with the Cylons. Racetrack lined them up for the landing, heading for the Port Flight Pod. Robertson got to see some of the other ships in the Fleet. Many he could tell were civilian vessels with their clean lines and airliner like markings. Some of the ships were bulky flying industrial parks, like someone had taken a chemical plant and given in engines. To the rear of the Colonial Fleet he could spot the Rebel Basestar. It was damaged like Galactica but still looked impressive. According to the briefings he had read it was repairing itself, growing new parts. “Alright we’re on the final approach, hang on.” Claire warned. Racetrack was coming carefully guiding the controls, making small corrections as they headed down to the runway. Emerson wondered how they would land if it would at all be similar to carrier landings. It was in that the event was violent and loud. With a bang they hit the runway. The screech from the landing skids rang through the hull. Quickly they slowed. Robertson who had never been on a carrier of any type before tried to regain his wits after landing, “You always do it like that? Why not dock.” “Combat landing, no time for a slow docking in a shooting situation, correct?” he asked the Eight. Claire nodded. They moved over to one of the elevators that would lower them into the hull. .......................... Admiral Adama, Colonel Tigh, President Roslin, and Vice-President Tom Zarek and small squad of Marines for honor duty waited as the Raptor carrying their visitors was pulled forward. Chief of the Deck, Laird supervised the moving of the two Raptors carrying their guests. Afterward he would move on to help with the cargo unloading from the shuttles further down the hanger deck. Adama and Tigh had put on their dress uniforms. Laura had gotten a new suit from somewhere, probably borrowed the Admiral decided. Zarek who had demanded he be part of the greeting party was also well dressed. The Marines were in their standard gear but all of it freshly polished and cleaned. Further back were some Cylons. They were waiting to act as translators. “Here they come, figured out what you’re going to say?” Adama whispered to Roslin. She smiled, “No, I’ll think of something.” The Raptors slid to a halt on the hanger deck. They moved their group over and waited for the hatch on the side of the ships to open. Groans from the door of Racetrack’s bird echoed out as it lifted up. Standing already as it lifted was Starbuck. She stepped out and indicated for her guests to follow. Adama easily could have figured out the first man was General Emerson. His green uniform, medals, and stance gave it away. Upon first impression Bill was impressed. He looked like his kind of soldier. The second one was a civilian but looked clever. Already he was trying to look everywhere without being rude. Adama could see his mind was trying to figure what everything around them was for or did. From the second Raptor came a group of other officers. They were from the major powers from Earth. All wore different uniforms and not all of them looked like they had seen action to Adama. Except for the uniforms they didn’t look at that different from collections of people you would have seen in the Fleet. Helo, Racetrack, and the Eight were last to step out of the Raptor. Claire began to introduce the people from Earth. Laura shook their hands often saying, “Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” President Roslin shook everyone’s hands and welcomed Robertson and Emerson last, “Welcome it’s so good to final meet both of you.” She stepped back letting Adama come forward. As they passed he spoke so softly only she heard, “I could have frakkin done that.” She smiled and worked to hold back a laugh. “All hands recognize General Walter Emerson and the military liaisons of Earth.” He called out. The Marines snapped salutes along with the Colonel and any deckhands in earshot. Emerson and the other military men returned the salutes. Adama continued, “The crew of the Battlestar Galactica welcomes you all and is honored to have you aboard.” Emerson replied for the group viva Claire, “Thank you Admiral Adama. It is an honor to be here on board your ship.” “Thank you, this is Colonel Tigh my executive officer.” Adama indicated. Emerson took Tigh’s hand. He noticed the eye-patch and that the Colonel seemed even more hardened than Adama. Of course he also knew some of the back story behind Galactica’s second in command. Tigh was one of the ‘Final Five’ Cylons the Rebels held in high regard. It said something about the man that he still wore a Colonial Fleet uniform, and that Adama fully accepted him as an XO. “If you would like General, we can give you the full tour. Captain Thrace can also show you some of our equipment if you would prefer that.” Adama said. Emerson answered speaking to Claire first, “I would be grateful for a tour of the ship Admiral.” Turning he looked at the most senior officer of the foreign representatives, “Colonel Blair?” “If you wouldn’t mind sir, I’m very eager to see the Colonial ships, Colonel Olav?” the RAF officer asked his Russian counterpart. “Da, I would like to see these Vipers up close.” The Russian Frontal Aviation officer answered. Claire put forward the request to Adama. “Starbuck pick a Cylon from our volunteer group over there to go with you. Some of our guests would like to see the Air Wing up close.” He ordered. She responded with a ‘Gotcha Boss’ moving to the small group of Cylons behind them. The Earth officers followed her. Laura smiling turned to Bill and said, “Should we begin?” He nodded, “Let’s. General Emerson, Mr. Robertson if you would come with us.” The White House Washington D.C. President Hayes and her staff were sitting in the Oval Office conducting a series of all day back to back meetings. Her entire time since the news of the Arrival was consumed by dealing with the ramifications of the Colonial Fleet’s appearance. The only breaks Hayes had managed to acquire were food, brief short periods of sleep, and responding to a series of Tornadoes that had torn up a Kansas town. Allison was fidgeting in her seat, trying to stay focus. The first of today’s meetings had started at 7:00 with an intelligence one. Now she was onto Settlement. The core of her staff was in on this one. Chief of Staff, Deputy COS, Communications Director, White House Council, and two of her best speech writers. From the government there was the Director of the CIA, Deputy-Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, UN Ambassador, Secretary Baker, and finally someone from Homeland Security. “They can’t go to Europe Bob.” The Director of CIA said to her Deputy COS, “There are enough ethnic and racial issues without putting a bunch of completely new people in the mix.” Her young staffer wouldn’t give up, a trait that comes from fighting with Congress, “Director I’m not saying we stick them on the continent, but maybe one of the Mediterranean islands, their culture wouldn’t be too out of place there.” “I not a fan of it, the Med is basically a crossroads to Europe, Africa, Central Asia. Even if the Greeks or someone else gave up an island for them, they would vulnerable out there.” The intelligence man answered. Admiral Dixon, second to General Emerson had another point, “We also need to think about infrastructure. To prepare ourselves for a possible Cylon attack we need to get geared up for space warfare quickly. There would be no real support base to set up any industrial resources they might have on the island choices in the Mediterranean. They’d be completely dependent on shipping for resources, leaving them vulnerable.” “From whom?” the communication director asked, “Libya is playing nice, the Egyptians are an ally along with Greece and Turkey. Whose navy is going to threaten the Colonials and get past any force of ships we set up to defend them?” “It doesn’t always take a warship Toby.” Dixon answered, “It could be some jihadist on a Jet Ski or sports boat loading with C4 or something worst. Hayes frowned. The War on Terror was not over. Even though the U.S. had toned down the rhetoric to try and cool things down and Iraq was working out for the most part, the war continued. It was far less public, only Afghanistan getting coverage. The war had found its proper place, with intelligence agencies and Special Forces units. Quietly they eliminated terror groups and their suppliers. That of course still didn’t stop the bombing of different places around the world. “The Admiral has a point.” Leo her Chief of Staff said, “The Arab street hasn’t decided where to go on the issue. Once more of the details become public, I’m worried about how the nut-jobs down there are going to react.” Hayes rubbed her eyes thinking about that. Some of the governments had tried to keep a lid on the news. However Al-Jazeera picked up the story as the BBC reported it, and began broadcasting it. It seemed the Middle East had no real idea how to react to the Colonials so they settled on a mix of acceptance and outrage. Acceptance came from some Arab leaders but others were deciding it was another issue they could berate the Great Satan with. Iran was demanding the United States remove itself from the process of dealing with the visitors. Not only could the U.S. not be trusted their President proclaimed but it was keeping out two thirds of the world. Where was the Iranian representative standing with President Hayes, where was someone from a Muslim country, they asked. Already some jihadsit terrorists’ websites were proclaiming that the new comers swear their allegiance to Allah or suffer the consequences. Some radical Islamic leaders claimed this was all a hoax. That soon the Americans, Russians, and Chinese would attack the Middle East to steal all their land and oil. “Leo’s right, as soon as their religious and historical beliefs come to light we are going to have trouble, and not just with the whackos in Iran, Afghanistan, and elsewhere.” The American UN Ambassador added, “God only knows what the Religious Right here will say about it.” Allison sighed, “Let’s not forget the Cylons. Once that news gets out we’ll have people wishing to get rid of them.” “We can’t let this distract us.” The Communications Director said, “I know this stuff is important but we need to give these people an idea of where they can go. From what Lee Adama has been telling us those people want to land. If we hold things up too long, they might decide to settle the issue themselves. Madam President either we pick a spot for them to stay for the short term, or a permanent solution.” Deputy COS jumped on that one, “Well we have gotten positive responses from Russia, Australia, Europe although it seems that’s no one’s favorite, even over there. My office must have taken calls from a dozen governors offering room in their states with another dozen calling in to say there's no way in hell they will take them in.” “The Agency is a fan of letting them come here.” CIA said. UN shook his head, “Yeah, and then the rest of the world will complain we are trying to seize all their technology for ourselves. Even the nations we’ve brought in on this will have second thoughts. It’s already happening with the countries we haven’t brought into the inner circle.” He referred to of course Venezuela’s loveable dictator, Hugo Chavez. Already the wanna-be-Castro was raising all kinds of hell down south. He complained that the U.S. was working to ensure it could rule the world. Not even Russia and China were safe from his tirade, as he called them sell outs to the Americans. CIA had told her this morning some of the complaints from Chavez steamed from the fact that the Russians and Chinese left him out of the loop. Iran was already trying to work with Venezuela according to CIA to promote a united front to the ‘American Conspiracy’. For a moment Hayes wondered if those two idiots actually believed the crap that flowed from their mouths. “At the very least Director, I’m sure the U.S. is going to be a focal point of R&D.” Allison offered, addressing why CIA liked the idea of them settling them here, “This settlement questions will not be easy. Plus we can’t forget about what the Cylons and Colonials will want. They are a nation and their views must be respected.” Baker decided to get back on a productive track, “How about we focus on where they can go for the short term. According to Mr. Adama and our own experts they need to get acclimated to the planet. We need somewhere remote and isolated but can hold 30,000 to 40,000 people comfortably.” President Hayes gave her SECDEF a wink thanking him for the topic change, “Agreed. And we have already discussed this slightly with the other powers. They’ve agreed a U.S. controlled area is most appropriate for now.” Plus she knew they were all happy to stick the costs of a massive humanitarian effort on the U.S. rather than themselves. Dixon spoke, “Well there are a number of areas that could be used. One requirement must be an adequate air base. One that can take their ships they plan on landing, and our cargo flights to fly in the needed supplies. A few places come to mind.” Baker followed up, “Some of our bases in the west would fit the bill. Pretty isolated with good runways and then we could support those bases with ground resupply.” The woman from Homeland Security decided to enter the fray, “I would advise against that sir.” Baker asked why. The woman continued, “We have tested a number of diseases between us and the Colonials. That worked when we are dealing with small groups. However we would be bringing the general population down here. In case there is something we missed, do you want it to bring it into the continental U.S.?” Hayes appreciated her point, “That is something to think about. Alright just to be safe we rule out CONUS, where does that leave us Secretary, Admiral?” Dixon who used to be in charge of Pacific Command remembered a long held U.S. procession, “There is Guam. We have Andersen Air Force Base there. It was built to take B-52s. It can even serve as an alternate landing site for the Shuttle. Right now Global Strike Command has a squadron each of B-1s and B-52s there to keep North Korea, India, and Pakistan in check. We can move out those assets and begin preparing to receive the Colonials. There is also our port and other bases there, easy to defend too.” Baker liked the plan but found one problem, “There are a bunch of people on Guam, I think 100,000 plus. We didn’t want to threaten CONUS, but we are willing to risk a biological contamination on them?” “We could offer to evacuate them, compensate anyone who wants to leave.” Her Chief of Staff offered, “It would be a bitch but it could be done.” Dixon agreed, “We’d gobble up a lot of air and sea power but we could evac the entire island if necessary.” “Alright we can go with that. Let’s get that information out to Secretary Keller at Foggy Bottom.” President Hayes instructed. At least they had figured out something. Of course they needed to see what the Colonials would say. Her Secretary of State was at the State Department headquarters with the ambassadors from the major powers. They were working on details of a Colonial-Earth Summit that would be held to settle lots of the major issues. There was a knock at the door. One of the wallflower aids opened it revealing Secretary Keller, “Madam President. I bring good news from the front.” Hayes smiled, “Progress I hope?” Julie smiled, “We have a summit agreement, even managed to pick a spot.” Baker surprised asked, “Where?” Keller took a seat, “Geneva. The Russians, Chinese, Europeans, everyone is happy with that. The Swiss have agreed to take over control of the local airport so we can get the Colonials in.” At time honored spot for its neutrality, Geneva would be somewhere everyone could work on familiar ground. The major Cold War summits had all been held there not to mention the Swiss were very experienced at this stuff. “Great, now that we are making some progress.” Hayes exclaimed feeling upbeat with the renewed momentum. They moved on to how best to get Guam ready for the Colonial Pit Stop and to deal with the reaction of the civilian population of the islands. Admiral’s Quarters Battlestar Galactica “This is a damn impressive ship Adama. You tell him that word for word.” Emerson ordered the blonde Cylon walking with their group. The Six did so which made Adama smile. “Tell him I’m looking forward to seeing a ‘carrier’. From what Captain Thrace has told me it’s their equivalent to a Battlestar.” They all entered Adama’s quarters. President Roslin was still with them although Zarek had to return for a series of meetings onboard Colonial One. Bill and Laura knew he was working to shore up his own political and barging power for the events to come. It irritated Adama slightly but he ignored it. Colonel Tigh was back in CIC supervising the ship. Robertson followed the Colonel in. The National Security Advisor had been fairly surprised by his tour of the big warship. When got to the Combat Information Center, he had expecting the Enterprise with glowing screens and yes a view screen. The large room filled with primitive computers, radar (no DRADIS he corrected) screens, dozens of crewmen working at different stations, and the bulky old style phones had been a shocker. However it was a functional nerve center. Although some of the crew looked quite young they were professional. Even with the language barrier, he could tell Colonel Tigh didn’t take crap from anybody. The rest of the ship was practical as well, bunk rooms, airlocks; even the engine room didn’t meet the expectations of sci-fi geeks. No blue warp cores or crystal tech, just a massive long device of spinning parts and equipment that was loud. “You’d feel at home on a carrier Admiral.” Robertson decided, “Although ours don’t feature the armor and guns yours does.” Emerson too was surprised by the Galactica’s combination of carrier-battleship. Naval attempts to do something like that on Earth had been failures, “We don’t really need them. Most of our equipment is geared to long range missile combat. Big gunned naval vessels are museum pieces now.” Tigh speaking through the Six said, “During the First Cylon War, the Centurions outgunned us in the electronic battlefield. We returned to guns and bullets cause they aren’t affected jamming.” Adama took it up from there, “Plus the FTL defines a lot of our tactics. We need to get in close and fast, deal out a lot of hurt before the enemy can jump away.” “So much for the deep space combat enthusiasts.” Emerson mumbled to himself, then returning to the conversation, “How many civilians are on board?” Laura answered that one, “Over a thousand. After the losses we suffered over New Caprica, we had to put people on Galactica. It has been an ordeal.” The phone in Adama’s cabin buzzed. Bill got up and answered. On the other end was Lt. Gaeta, “Sir we have a communication from the ground for General Emerson. It’s the White House.” “Get the connection ready Mr. Gaeta.” Adama ordered and then turned to face the general, “A call for you.” Emerson walked over and took the phone from Adama. Putting to his ear he heard some crackles and pops and the transmission switched to a secure frequency. Moments later he heard the voice of an officer from the White House Military Communications Office, “General Emerson I have Secretary of Defense Baker on the line.” Seconds later Baker’s voice slightly distorted came through, “Walter, I’ve got some good news. We have worked out a summit deal, us the Russians, Chinese, Indians, Europeans, and others in Geneva. The when we can work out with the Colonials, I’d assume you are still with Adama and Roslin?” “Yes sir. I am actually in Admiral Adama’s cabin.” He glanced at the two leaders to let them know the conversation was relevant to them. “Excellent the President wants you to let them know. She would also like the schedule a call with President Roslin if that is possible.” Baker explained. Emerson answered, “Yes sir Mr. Secretary you want to stay on the line?” “No go ahead and get back to us. The President would also like to talk to both of you soon.” “Roger sir.” Emerson said. The line went dead shortly after that. He turned to Adama and looked at the Six letting her know it was time to translate again, “The major powers have reached an agreement to have a summit. It’s hoped we can work out where you can settle during this along with other issues.” Laura beamed, “Thank the Gods.” Adama grunted, finally, he thought. Tigh kept his own opinions to himself. The Six was happy and now waiting for a chance to report the news to D’Anna. Robertson was surprised. He thought the process would take longer; guess the idea that there are genocidal robots out there was enough to break through some of the bull shit, he thought with a small smile. The Admiral headed for his small bar. Pulling out a vile of Ambrosia and glasses he turned back to the group, “This calls for a celebratory drink.” He then gave a glass to each person in the room, even the Six. Pouring them each a drink, Adama then put down the bottle and lifted his own glass, “To Earth.” Robertson added, “To the Colonials, and the Rebel Cylons.” As he said the last part Jack nodded to the Six. Everyone took a drink. Emerson thought it was good stuff, Robertson thought it was a little strong. Hanger Deck “So small, but she’s a pretty bird.” Colonel Blair said running his hand down the side of a Viper VI. The small group of military officers had each descended into their own little world. Colonel Olav was with a Model Six and a deck hand asking questions about the parts of an engine that lay on the deck. The French Special Forces operator was looking over a Colonial pistol interested in the idea of explosive ammunition. Most of the other Air Force types were looking at the Vipers and Raptors. Starbuck listened as the Eight with her translated. She then answered, “Yeah they had one flaw during the initial Cylon attack. Their computer systems had been infiltrated. These babies can eat Raiders for breakfast. However they are worthless if the pilot can’t control it.” “Not an issue with the Mark IIs though?” the Brit asked. Kara nodded, “Yeah. She’s as nimble as a jack rabbit which means she needs a pilot who can handle that. I love these old birds.” “Reminds of the American F-86 in a way, you’d like that one.” He added. Starbuck let the Colonel go over the Viper. She backed away from the group thinking. There was something she wanted to look in on. It had been worrying her for a while, and the Old Man. She excused herself for a moment and walked towards the restricted part of the deck. A few minutes later she was there with it, the Viper she flew back to Galactica inside the Ionian Nebula. Unlike the rest of Galactica’s Vipers this one was clean. Tyrol had described it as having come off the factory floor. Kara slowly approached it as if it was dangerous. In fact since they had gotten to Earth she avoided the ship as much as possible. This was the first time she had checked on it on her own. Not too long after they parked above Earth, the Admiral was concerned that the signal they had followed to Earth might be picked up by Cavil. Even though the Viper was the only one that picked up the beacon, Adama wanted to be sure. So she had gone down there to check on it on his orders. When she climbed into the cockpit, turned the systems back on, she was shocked. It was gone. The signal, the one that led them here, was gone completely and had been that way since they jumped over Earth. Flipping on the systems again, she looked to see if there was any sign of the signal. Again the channels were all dark. Kara sighed and leaned back into the seat. What am I? How did I come back? Where did this frakkin signal go? All of these thoughts played across her mind. She believed her density had been to bring the Fleet to Earth. But she couldn’t forget what that damn hybrid had told her, on the Rebel Baseship all that time ago. You are the harbinger of death Kara Thrace; you will lead them all to their end. __________________ This is the Mark II Viper, it’s nimble as a jackrabbit and anyone not paying attention is likely to become a pile of muck that needs to be hosed out of the cockpit by the chief of the deck ""I will use every cannon, every bomb, every weapon in my arsenal down to my own eye-teeth to end you. I SWEAR IT! I'M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!"." -Laura Roslin Homecoming: Ch 1-5 Homecoming my BSG tale. PLEASE READ Last edited by Viper II Fan; Mar 23rd 2009 at 1:23pm.

May 3rd 2009, 3:47pm	#6
Viper II Fan WWII Dalek Join Date: 30 Sep 2005 Location: Crushed under a Dalek Posts: 1,531	Chapter Eight: Daybreak Cointrin International Airport Geneva, Switzerland The excitement in the air was felt by everyone. All the different heads of state seemed to have a spring in their step. Even though there was important and difficult work ahead, they and President Hayes were looking forward to it much to her surprise. She had never wanted to have an exciting or a historical presidency. Hayes had only wanted to keep America safe, productive, and better then when she had started. But here she was, helping shape history with other leaders. Working in a whole new realm. “So Allison did they glue you into your shoes?” the Prime Minster of Britain asked with a smile. She chuckled, only he would have talked to her so casually. “William you know my staff they would not resort to using glue, they’d do something truly American, Duct Tape.” The President answered with a grin. He laughed. They along with the other national leaders waited inside the main terminal. Outside crowds of media, national staffs, and security forces waited for the arrival of the Colonial-Cylon Delegation. The airport was shut down to regular traffic. Many of the aircraft had been cleared away as well. Secret Service, Swiss military, and the security groups for the different nations had locked down the airport. Several terrorist groups had made threats adding to the nervousness of the security teams. “So not worried our planetary crazies are going to cause trouble?” the Prime Minster inquired. Hayes shook her head, “No. CIA doesn’t think that any of the threats have any merit. Not enough time to put something together, and even if they did any such operation would be too rushed to not get noticed.” He nodded, “MI Six said the same thing to me this morning. I’m more concerned about all the other nuts, the ones who don’t think were godless infidels.” Since the news of the meeting in Geneva had been leaked then confirmed, everyone was trying to get into the country to see the Colonials. Several UFO groups had sent members to the airport trying to get access. One was in custody after he had tried to rush pass some Swiss guards. Thousands of people were around the airport itself. Curious people from over a dozen countries all of them wanting to get a look at the visitors from the stars. The path for the motorcades to the hotel everyone would be meeting in was just as heavily lined; dozens of buildings in downtown had their roofs filled with people. “I think things will go smoothly. I’m far more worried about the conference when it begins.” Hayes was worried everything would unravel when everyone finally got together. “I wouldn’t get to concerned.” He answered, “The technological possibilities in that Fleet are too good to pass up. As long as everyone here gets their share, I think we will get everything done that we want, including the alliance.” Allison sighed, “It’s the only way William. None of us stand a chance if we try and go it alone. Even though we still don’t have all the information my experts are telling me it will be years before we can build anything like Galactica.” The Prime Minster who had served in the Royal Navy and understood some of the problems of ship building added, “Most likely a decade. I mean look at normal sea going ships. We are still waiting for our two new carriers.” “Exactly, and this Cavil won’t give us that long.” Hayes finished. “Don’t worry Madam President; Her Majesty’s Government will do everything in its power to assist our wayward cousins, since we agree with you.” The Prime Minster smiled. Allison relaxed some more. Thank god for special relationships, she thought. “Ah I see the capitalists are conspiring together.” Russian President Dmitry Medvedev joked as he approached the American and British leaders. Hayes took the bait, “Of course we are. However how can we conspire against you and then work with your Army to conquer to Middle East?” The Russian laughed, “Only in the world of morons does that logic make sense Madam President. No I just wish to relieve the tension. I look forward to meeting President Roslin. If she is as charming as you are they might end up owning the planet.” She laughed but wished the signal that the Colonials were coming would get here. It was time to get to work. Luckily her request was granted. Walking up to the group was the aides of each of the three nations’ leaders. Charlie pulled her aside and said, “They’re coming Madam President. Swiss Air Force is waiting for the intercept.” “Thanks Charlie. Gentlemen, sounds like our guests have arrived.” She announced. Medvedev nodded, “Yes. I can’t wait to see this ship. It can land on the planet, amazing.” The Prime Minster agreed, “Too bad their carrier can’t do it. Yes there would be no room for it here at all but I would love to see it.” “I’m sure we would all want to take a trip up there William, but let’s focus on the here and now. Otherwise we’ll miss Colonial One.” With that they joined their fellow leaders on the way out to reviewing area. Combat Information Center Battlestar Galactica “Alright let’s get this show on the road. Lieutenant Hoshi, get the civvies on the line and get this procession underway.” Colonel Tigh ordered. He was standing at the center of the CIC. The Old Man was on the way to Earth to be part of the conference below. Tigh was in command with Lt. Gaeta acting as the temporary XO. Hoshi sitting at the communication station began calling the civilian ships that would be making the journey to Earth, “Chiron you are cleared to begin your decent, Gemenon Traveler you are on deck.” Tigh watched the DRADIS console. The first of the green civilian ship symbols began descending, heading to Earth to stop at the island called ‘Guam’. In addition to the civilian ships that could land and lift off the surface of a planet, dozens of shuttles, nearly the entire complement of the Fleet were moving people as well. Ships like Hitei Kan or Demetrius which were perpetually space faring vessels would be left with skeleton crews. After a short time period, those crews too would need to be rotated. “Hotdog reports escort is underway. Racetrack has contact with U.S. Navy and Air Force squadrons.” Another communications tech reported as Hoshi directed the civilian ships. “Very well, Lt. Gaeta any signs of trouble from our Cylon friends?” Gaeta took a minute before replying. A Cylon asking questions about trusting other Cylons, that’s just great, “No sir, just the Heavy Raiders launched for the air show.” “Good. Last thing we need is those toasters doing something on their own today and panicking someone down below.” Tigh said. “Yes sir.” Gaeta answered focusing on the reports from the previous watch. Tigh took another look at the DRADIS; the first group of ships was away. They were surrounded by shuttles, Raptors, and Vipers for protection and control. Plus it was designed to show off the Colonial military. As Bill had told him hours ago, we need to make clear our abilities, what we can provide to the nations down there. Hotdog had gotten his additional orders straight from Tigh that morning, “Look sharp and don’t frak this up.” Over the Pacific the first of the civilian ships had finished their descent through the atmosphere. Hotdog and his Viper squadron were in the lead. As the pilots checked their DRADIS there were no unexpected contacts. The Raptors were already picking up the different emissions from the radar sets tracking them. Minutes later Hotdog was in contact with the Earth commanders down below. Controlling everything from Hawaii was Pacific Command. In a new modern control center, dozens of sailors, soldiers, and airmen coordinated the different aspects to Operation Homecoming. Two carrier battlegroups, dozens of support ships, submarines, and Air Force units had to be directed in a delicate ballet. AWACS birds were tracking the procession of Colonial ships, their onboard controllers blanching at the size of them. Quickly they regained their composure and began directing the American fighter escorts. F-35s and F/A-18s from the Abraham Lincoln secured the air space outside Guam. A squadron of F-22s transferred from the states flew out of Andersen AFB and took up their own positions. On the ground the 36th Wing prepared to receive their visitors. A non flying unit of the Air Force, the thirty-sixth was made up of medical, mechanical, and security personnel. They were backed up by Red Cross workers, CDC and Army doctors, and additional doctors and aid workers from Russia, China, Japan, and Australia. Engineers had set up hundreds of prefabricated shelters. The ground was ready. The Vipers had linked up with their atmospheric counterparts and approached Guam. Hotdog smiled as he got a look at the island. Beaches, tropics, beautiful sky overhead oh yeah this is a fine pit stop if you ask me, the pilot thought with a grin. “Chiron, follow our lead. The landing site is the base at the tip of the island. Once you’re overhead it’s all on you to land.” He called the lead civilian transport. The captain of the luxury liner answered, “Roger that Hotdog, we’re in our final approach.” On the ground the base had been pretty much cleared to make as much space available for the big civilian ships as possible. All the bombers that had been based there had been sent back to the states. Now as the first of the Colonial ships came in, the controllers in the main tower worried they wouldn’t have enough room even though they would. Chiron fired its ventral thrusters lowering itself to the main runway. The luxury liner was over eight hundred feet long and as wide as the runway. Standing far away from the landing spacecraft Air Force and First Aid personnel watched as the legs touched down onto the runway. Onboard the Colonial ship the people cheered. The controllers didn’t have long to relish the sight of the landing because the next one was coming in. *Colonial One* “I hate protocol.” Adama grunted as they neared the airport. He was sitting in one of the plushy chairs that made up Laura’s office onboard the ship. Looking out the window he could see one of the Swiss F/A-18s flying as an escort. Laura was making the finishing touches to her makeup. Donated by one of the civilians in the fleet it was some of the last of the Colonial beauty products left. Satisfied she looked descent enough she closed the makeup case and responded, “As much as we want to get to work Bill, we need some ceremony. I don’t want the leaders of Earth to think we are simply a horde of refugees but a legitimate government, one that deserves full protocols and respect.” Adama got up and sighed, “I know but there is a lot of work to do any not much time to get it started. Plus there is every chance these talks could breakdown. The Colonies were unified but it still took the government forever to decide on anything. The 13th Tribe isn’t even that close together.” Laura came over and held Adama, “Have faith Bill. We made it this far, I don’t think the Gods will let it all come apart now.” She then lost her balance, causing Adama to catch her. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked, the barest hint of fear in his voice. Roslin took a breath, “It’s just these drugs Cottle gave me. To counteract the side effects of the last Deloxin treatment, I should be good for a while.” Bill stroked her face, “If you need a rest...” She straightened putting on her war face, “Admiral Adama I am more than capable of completing these talks are you?” Seeing she was all business now Adama tightened himself and responded crisply, “Yes Madam President.” Laura let a smile break through her Presidential face, “Then shall we?” Offering her arm in a crook, Adama took it and walked with her to the main exit. Since the airport below didn’t have the proper docking facilities, they would have to exit viva the cargo lift in Colonial One’s belly. Together Adama and Roslin entered the large storage area and found the rest of the Colonial government waiting. The Quorum, Vice-President Zarek, some aides and branch ministers, and Colonial officers and Marines. “Madam President we’ll be landing in a few minutes.” Zarek informed her. He came closer and whispered, “Are you sure you want them here?” Roslin turned to observe the ‘them’ Zarek was referring too. D’Anna, Tory, and the other Rebel Cylon leaders stood across from their Colonial counterparts. All were dressed well and kept exchanging glances at the Colonials. Like boys and girls at their first school dance, there was a distance between them. It wasn’t helping that instead of Colonial Marines, the Cylon military was represented in four Centurions. Even Adama was uncomfortable seeing the machines standing there. Like his soldiers his hand itched, wanting to grab a weapon and take them down. However the Cylon robotic warriors were standing perfectly still. They had retracted their razor sharp finger tips into duller safer ones. All four of the Centurions were brightly polished and adored with a red carefully painted stripe which ran from their left shoulders to right waist. Adama had fought against having the machines as part of their delegation. However the Cylons wanted to show off their own forces and impress the Thirteenth Tribe. Roslin was also uncomfortable with the Centurions standing there but knew they needed them, “Tom they have agreed to alliance with us and as such deserve to be full represented. D’Anna also informed me that the Centurions themselves have an interest in the talks.” The Rebels had, at the start of the Civil War, removed the intelligence inhibitors from their Centurions. Now like their forbearers they were fully sentient and thus were very interested in the discussions. Bries didn’t say what the Centurions wanted. “Very well mustn’t keep the Cylons unhappy.” Zarek said with distain. Adama gave Zarek a look that suggested he should step away. The Vice-President decided to stop talking and moved back, “It’s not too late to shove him out the airlock.” She smiled, “Probably would be the wrong impression to give our cousins.” One of the Colonial One crewmembers was on the phone and connected to the bridge, “Right…” he turned to face the delegations, “We’re beginning our landing. Hang on.” …………… Lee Adama stood next to Athena outside the Swiss airport’s main terminal. The leaders of the most powerful and influential nations of Earth gathered around them. Colonial One was moments away from touching down. Even though he had been on Earth for nearly two weeks, there were times he still couldn’t believe it. He stared at Sharon from a moment. How far have we come? I almost put a bullet in her head the first time we met now? She’s standing in a Colonial Fleet uniform and helped make these talks happen. Athena had nearly run herself down going through all the meetings, constantly translating, and working with the Rebels. Lee made sure to recommend her for a medal and lots of leave next time he was alone with his father. “Delegate Adama, the moment arrives.” The President of the United States said. Sharon would not need to act as a translator for the talks. In his ear and the President’s was a small wireless device. The Rebels had produced the first models. They instantly translated the different languages for the Colonials and people of the Thirteenth Tribe. The Admiral had been dubious of them at first, only agreeing to the devices after Galacitca had checked to make sure they would translate properly. “Madam President, an honor to finally meet you.” He answered shaking her hand. Hayes was still getting use to her device, watching as Lee’s lips moved faster than the translation in her ear. The Bluetooth like device was better than constantly relying on translators. “Same here Mr. Adama, I’m looking forward to meeting President Roslin.” “Colonial One will be landing shortly; in fact I can hear it now.” Hayes looked upward towards the loud sound. Descending from the clouds was the transport that represented the heart of the Colonial government. The paint scheme was similar to Air Force One’s. She had been told it was not intentional just another of the many odd similarities they shared with their deep space cousins. The entire group looked on in awe. People camped out around the security perimeter took their snapshots. With a final roar of Colonial One’s engines brought the spacecraft on to the ground. Allison snapped herself out of the amazement that she had watching the ship. It was time to go to work. The leaders were led forwards by the security personnel walking closer but still keeping a safe distance from the ship. The underside of Colonial One opened and a cargo elevator began to descend to the runway. Standing on the lift was President Roslin, Admiral Adama, and the rest. A few reporters and cameramen swore on air when they saw the Centurions. Carefully the group stepped off the lift and began walking forwards to meet the leaders of Earth. Hayes had to work to keep her jaw closed as she watched the robots, robots real life fucking robots! “My God…” the British PM whispered. The metallic clanks from the Centurions were overpowering. Security people tensed watching the robotic warriors. D’Anna saw everyone was getting a little unnerved. She turned to the Centurions and held up a hand. The machines nodded and stopped, being still as statues. Roslin deciding to help stepped forward, “Hello, thank you all for meeting us.” Hayes stepped forward and extended her hand, “Madam President on behalf of everyone here I welcome you to Geneva and Earth.” Roslin was wearing one of the translators like all the other Colonials. The next five minutes were spent with introductions. China, Russia, Britain, all of the leaders met and exchanged short greetings with Roslin, Zarek, Adama, the Quorum, and finally the humanoid Cylons. Once all the introductions had been made the leadership crowd turned to observe the fly by. Swiss Hornets came first, followed by a flight of Viper VIIs. Next were the big Heavy Raiders and two of the few remaining conventional Raiders the Basestar processed. Finally a mixed flight of Heavy Raiders and Vipers both IIs and VIIs came in. The middle Viper Mark II was flown by Starbuck. Kara inside her cockpit smiled and looked down at the airport below; here we go, watch this. Starbuck hit her breaks stopping the Viper in mid air. She then kicked the thruster peddles which fired the forward RCS system. Her plane’s nose shot upward as the Viper began a 360 degree rollover. Once she was back on course Kara fired the thrusters again and this time turned 180 degrees in a few seconds. With the display of the Viper’s abilities complete she rejoined the formation. Now the Cylon flight decided to show their abilities. Climbing high they stayed over the airport and then jumped. Several loud cracks of thunder rang over the city as the Cylon FTL worked. “Damn.” Hayes muttered watching the jump the drive demonstration. “That should lower the cost of getting into orbit.” The PM commented. Bill and Laura could see that all of the Earth representatives were wowed. She smiled at Adama then to D’Anna, good job. Les Armures Hotel Geneva “My Gods Bill…” Laura mumbled. She turned around the room, not since Adar’s election campaign had she stayed anywhere this plush. The Hotel Les Armures lay in Geneva’s old town. Across from the cathedra Saint Pierre the hotel was made up of a mix of 13th and 17th Century (renovated of course) buildings arranged in a square. Owned by Counts, Bishops, and wealthy families the hotel had hosted American presidents before. The entire complex would hold the Colonial and Cylon delegations. U.S. Secret Service patrolled the outside while Colonial Marines and the Red Stripes guarded the interior. Laura had been given the ‘Prestige’ Suite. A huge bed, wooden floors, a full sized bathroom (her personnel favorite) it was wonderful. Bill stood in the middle of the suite; it had been just as long for him since he had been anywhere this nice. “I feel like I’m spending cubits just standing here.” Adama commented. Roslin walked into the bathroom, “You know how many times I would have killed for a full size bath on Colonial One or Galactica?” “Good thing I didn’t keep a sidearm in my room.” He joked. “Yes.” She said coming back out, “I don’t know if I can rest before the first meeting.” Adama cautioned, “You should. The talks are going to be long and difficult. Cottle said you should take every opportunity you can to take a break.” “Well there are other things we could do while waiting.” Laura suggested. Adama smiled. ……………. D’Anna sat with the other humanoid Cylons inside the hotel’s reception area. It featured large chairs and comfortable sofas. Designed in a 17th Century fresco style it featured a large iron casted window that illuminated the room. They were all arranged around a small table which held some drinks and documents for the talks. In a corner was a suit of armor. D’Anna couldn’t help but compare it to the Centurions standing guard. Two of their Red Striped Centurions stood on the edges of the room. They were as still as the empty armor. “I feel before we agree to anything we need to have the Thirteenth Tribe recognize us as sentient beings, not machines.” Sonja Six said. A Two agreed, “Yes. Before we give them any deals on technology, they promise to treat us with full rights and amnesty for any crimes committed before we joined with the Colonials.” “It shouldn’t be too hard to get them to agree to that. There will be some blowback from the Colonials but Roslin and Adama have already shown their willingness to accept what is done is done. From what I have seen of human history they too will not bring up the past. Not when we can offer them so much.” An Eight added. D’Anna nodded, “Very well then the next question is do we wish to establish a settlement here?” “The Sixes feel that we should have something. Earth was core to our beliefs for a new direction for our people.” Leoben spoke quietly, “I suggest we wait. The Baseship systems have regenerated and we can get the supplies we need from Earth. Although I doubt we will have as much trouble integrating into Earth society, there will be some issues. Let time pass, slowly integrating ourselves.” Troy was also there. She was the sole representative of the Final Four Cylons. Tigh and Anders continued to avoid them. Despite several overtures they remained sided with the Colonials. D’Anna wasn’t going to press the issue. At the very least Tyrol had been more receptive. He had been reappointed as Chief of the Deck on Galactica and as a result was spending most of his time there. Tory added her own view, “We should also remember Earth is vulnerable. Cavil will be looking for us and the Fleet. Right now Earth could easily be destroyed by a Loyalist attack. I’m not against staying but if the worst came to happen then I would think we wouldn’t want too many of our people on the ground if it did.” Three shared her lost sister’s view, “I agree. If and when Earth looks like it can be defended then we can settle somewhere, for now I think we should keep most of our people on the Baseship. Now there is the other issue to discus, what will the Thirteenth think of our comrades’ proposal?” All the Cylons turned their head to look at the Centurions standing guard. Neither machine moved but they spoke to the biological Cylons wirelessly, our request can be changed if that is required, the Centurions said. Tory still couldn’t quite get use to the idea of someone speaking in her head. D’Anna and the others had explained it wasn’t psychic communication, just a link the Centurions and they had. Each Cylon could experience it in a different way, projection, a text message, or as with Tory a voice. D’Anna answered; I don’t believe they will object as long as they get something out of it. The Centurion (or Centurions Tory wasn’t ever sure) responded, We will be more than willing to trade materials for our own land. Also we would continue our agreement of security for the Basestar and organics. That pledge could be extended to Earth as well. Aloud, Six commented, “That might also encourage them. A guarantee, that neither Cylon, humanoid or mechanical, will attack Earth nor both will agree to defend the planet.” Leoben shook his head, “But will they be comfortable with the idea of letting the Centurions live on their moon, creating their own society?” “I agree with D’Anna and Sonja, as long as Earth’s major powers reap the benefits such as the materials the Centurions can mine or produce, they will be willing to give up part of their moon.” An Eight said. D’Anna nodded and returned her focus to the Centurions, do you agree? Yes, it answered. Colonial-Earth Conference The large conference room was packed. President Hayes looked around the rectangle table. On one side were all the representatives of Earth. She was sitting in the middle of them. To her immediate left and right was Britain and Russia with the other countries stretching out from there. Of course the entire Earth wasn’t here in this room. The UN was protesting loudly but all the founding members of the UN were in the room so Hayes thought they could take their complaints and shove them. If they had brought the Colonials to the UN General Assembly for discussion, they might have some agreement worked out in say two to three years. No, the only way to do this was with the major powers quickly before anyone could really stonewall the process. On the other side of the table were the Colonial and Cylon leaders. Hayes couldn’t help but notice the gap between the two sides. It was the first of many sessions to be held over the coming the days. After the big meeting they would break into smaller working groups. They had to deal with issues of settlement, technology, planetary defense, and culture shock. “If everyone could please take their seats” A staffer asked the assembled group. The many aides and other soon to be wallflowers around the room got out of the way, left, or sat down. Allison got the sign that they were ready. Leaning forward slightly she began her opening statement. “I welcome my fellow leaders and our cousins from far away to the first of what will be many discussions. Welcome to the Conference.” Applause from the assembled group broke out. Hayes nodded in acceptance and then continued as the noise died down, “We all know the issues on the table are huge. They will change our planet, society, and technology. However it is critical that we come together in these coming days. While we have new friends and family from the stars there is also a danger out there. Only together can we reap the benefits of the coming future. If we cannot move past our squabbles we will face a fate too terrible to imagine.” She wanted them all to understand the stakes. If Cavil’s forces found an Earth not united in defense with the Colonials, they were finished. “However I don’t believe that will be the case today. Each of our nations has overcome terrible odds. Whether they are social unrest, economic trouble, war or disease, ever success we have shows the human ability to survive and adapt. We also have proof in the form of the Colonials that no matter what happens if we work together, we can overcome any obstacle.” The table broke into applause. Adama was impressed by the American President. He said as much to Laura. She replied in a whisper, “So am I. To think their country hasn’t had a woman President till her, they could have done worse.” More speeches from the Colonials, Cylons, and other Earth powers would follow, at the very least though they had begun. Battlestar Galactica Aft Spaces “Alright Chief, what did you want to show me?” Tigh asked. He was nearing the end of his shift. After supervising the transfer of the Colonial Fleet ships to Guam they had parked Galactica into a stationary orbit. The Admiral wanted a whole series of repairs and maintenance to begin since the ship wouldn’t be jumping anywhere in a while. As the repairs began Tyrol called into CIC and reported that he needed the Colonel. Tigh had left Gaeta in charge and met up with Tyrol near the FTL engine. The Chief then led him into the aft spaces, deeper into the bowels of the ship. “Take a look Colonel.” Galen said as he pointed a light at a section of structure braces. Tigh saw the braces had cracks running through them, they were split open almost. “Oh Frak.” He mumbled, “How bad?” Tyrol sighed, “Not good. There are cracks all along the length of the Old Girl. It can be fixed, if he had to have kept jumping it would have gotten worse but these aren’t the worst problem.” He picked up a lamp this one was turned off. “After we found these I started checking for damage you couldn’t see. Normally you use X-Rays and I think the 13th Thirteenth Tribe has the equipment to double check what I found.” Tyrol plugged the light into an extension cord. Tigh didn’t like where any of this was headed, “What did you find?” “I applied a gel that that fluorescent when hit by UV light. Here we go…” Tyrol turned on the UV lamp. Tigh was shocked to see the strong structural support was a spider web of glowing lines. “They’re micro-fractures. It’s in her bones Colonels.” “How the hell did we let this happen?” Tigh shouted. Tyrol shook his head, “Sir Galactica is over fifty years old. We haven’t been in a dry dock for over four years now. She’s been through things most ships never see in a life time. The Admiral slammed her onto the atmosphere of New Caprica, she taken tons of conventional ordnance, the nuke strike at the start of the second war, not to mention the shoddy work.” Tigh was shocked, “What? You mean those frakers cut corners back on Caprica?” Tyrol shrugged his shoulders, “Who knows sir. I know from the history books that Galactica was rushed into battles more than once during the first war. They probably needed her on the line so they skipped what they didn’t think they needed. It’s fine if you undergo regular overhauls and checks but we haven’t had the chance.” Tigh started calming down, “I just don’t know how I’m going to tell the Old Man. You’ve started repairs?” “Yeah, but there is only so much my crew can do. Those breaks you saw we can fix but these” he pointed to the micro-fractures, “we may need help with.” “Does the Earth have any technology that might help?” Tigh asked. Tyrol shook his head, “Don’t know probably good to let them know down there so we can ask. There is something though…” “What is it?” Tyrol knew that this would probably go nowhere but, “The Cylons. They showed me a number of different things. One of their maintenance items is a type of resin. It grows into damage or in our case cracks, makes the metal stronger, bonds with it.” “Cylon technology? The Old Man would never go for it. I don’t know that I would!” Tigh exclaimed. “Sir I’m just giving you an idea. If we don’t do something though, Galactica is going to have a very short remaining lifespan. God help us if Cavil shows up.” Tigh really needed a drink now. He went up to the support and touched it. Although he didn’t have the same attachment to the ship Bill had, Tigh respected her. It had got them this far, “Chief start whatever repairs you can with our equipment now. Draft whatever supplies you need from the few Fleet ships we have left. Not like they need it now. I’ll see about that resin stuff, but if the Old Man says no then that’s it!” “Yes sir.” Tyrol answered. ……….. Caprica Six was reading when Saul came in. She smiled till she saw how he looked, “Saul?” “Hey. Gods damn it I need a drink.” He said taking off his jacket. Six frowned. “Saul, remember we…” He closed his eye, “Frak. It was making you nauseous.” “What happened?” She came up to him and embraced. He held while he talked, “Tyrol’s found lots of structural damage to the ship. Lots of it. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Bill he loves this ship.” Six kissed him and then spoke softly, “Just tell him. There is no way to make it less damaging. Saul, have you to talked to anyone from the Baseship? They have lots of repair abilities.” Tigh laughed. He pulled away and took a seat at his desk. He settled for the pitcher of water there. Pouring himself a drink he said, “Bill won’t go for it. Maybe Earth has something we can use.” Six sat at the table with him. She reached across and took his hand, “Don’t worry Saul it will be okay. God has seen to it that we have made it this far. Did you ever think a year ago we’d be at Earth, or have peace with Cylons, or that you would be a father?” Caprica Six put her other hand near where there son was growing. Tigh smiled, “No.” “Then have faith.” She smiled. Tigh shook his head. He had never really believed in the Gods (or God). He didn’t want to get into issues of faith with Six. Changing the subject he asked, “Everything okay with Cottle?” “Yes.” Six answered, “Liam is proceeding as he should. Of course this is the first pure Cylon child, so he wants to have more tests.” Tigh got up and walked over to Caprica. He kneeled and felt her tummy, “My Son…Ellen and I tried to have children, never could. I gave up hope a while ago.” Six stiffened at the mention of Ellen Tigh. She knew deep down that part of Tigh was still in love with his wife. Six loved him but did not to always be in a ghost’s shadow.” “It doesn’t matter. We have a son and he will be beautiful when he’s born. And will all live together…Saul?” Tigh was no longer looking at her instead he was staring into space. His body was frozen, stiff and unresponsive. Six began gently shake him, “Saul…what’s wrong?” He couldn’t hear her. Tigh’s mind was light years away. He was running through panicking people. They were running with no sense of direction or purpose. Saul pushed his way through them running through the rubble. That’s when he noticed it, his vision was perfect, his left eye back in place. He wasn’t wearing a Colonial uniform, just a civilian suit. It was torn, with blood, his maybe, on it. None of that mattered he needed to find her. Another blinding flash of light erupted behind him. The roar followed shortly from the nuclear bomb going off. Even this he pushed out of his mind. Tigh pushed his way into the ruins of the bank. He yelled her name. The smashed lobby was clear, the remains of the roof in it. Then he heard her. “Saul…” he turned to the voice. Falling to his knees, Saul began removing the rubble. He tried to remove the heavy material but failed. An arm covered in blood touch his face. “It’s alright Saul. Everything is in place. We will be born again and live together forever.” She stroked his face. He held her other hand and leaned down, kissing her. Another bomb detonated right above them. The resulting thermal pulse and shockwave slammed into the bank, obliterating them. Caprica was about to call for a medic when Tigh inhaled sharply. He began coughing and looked around confused. It took him a minute to remember where he was again. Caprica Six rushed to his side and took his hands, “Saul it’s me, what happened? Are you alright?” “She’s…the…. it’s her….” He panted. “She? Who Saul? Who is what?” Tigh his mouth opened looked at her. A tear began to roll down his cheek. He said it quietly. Six almost didn’t hear him, later she decided she had not wanted to hear him say it. “Ellen. She’s the Fifth.” __________________ This is the Mark II Viper, it’s nimble as a jackrabbit and anyone not paying attention is likely to become a pile of muck that needs to be hosed out of the cockpit by the chief of the deck ""I will use every cannon, every bomb, every weapon in my arsenal down to my own eye-teeth to end you. I SWEAR IT! I'M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!"." -Laura Roslin Homecoming: Ch 1-5 Homecoming my BSG tale. PLEASE READ

May 3rd 2009, 3:50pm	#7
Viper II Fan WWII Dalek Join Date: 30 Sep 2005 Location: Crushed under a Dalek Posts: 1,531	PLEASE post comments and thoughts in the Homecoming Discussion Thread II not here. Thanks for reading! __________________ This is the Mark II Viper, it’s nimble as a jackrabbit and anyone not paying attention is likely to become a pile of muck that needs to be hosed out of the cockpit by the chief of the deck ""I will use every cannon, every bomb, every weapon in my arsenal down to my own eye-teeth to end you. I SWEAR IT! I'M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!"." -Laura Roslin Homecoming: Ch 1-5 Homecoming my BSG tale. PLEASE READ

Aug 28th 2009, 7:03pm	#9
Viper II Fan WWII Dalek Join Date: 30 Sep 2005 Location: Crushed under a Dalek Posts: 1,531	Please Comment here, Homecoming Discussion Thread THIS IS A STORY ONLY THREAD!!!!!!!!! __________________ This is the Mark II Viper, it’s nimble as a jackrabbit and anyone not paying attention is likely to become a pile of muck that needs to be hosed out of the cockpit by the chief of the deck ""I will use every cannon, every bomb, every weapon in my arsenal down to my own eye-teeth to end you. I SWEAR IT! I'M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!"." -Laura Roslin Homecoming: Ch 1-5 Homecoming my BSG tale. PLEASE READ

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