A Better Life
By
Jim Saldivar
(JimSaldivar_269@hotmail.com)

     Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction based on the series
Battlestar Galactica and its characters, which are owned by Glen A.
Larson.  The Raptor squadron and its personnel are the creations of Mike
Newby (LeatherKnight)(Could someone furnish me with an e-mail address). 
Copernicus and Tarnia are Maggie Hutchison's babies.  This story is not
being sold for profit and no infringement of any copyright is intended. 
All unrecognized characters and plot lines are mine and any resemblance
to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Prologue

     From the Adama journals:

     It is difficult to believe that is has been a mere three sectars
since our narrow victory over the IL Cylon called Shadow and his
baseship. I must thank the Lords of Kobol that we only lost Agro Ship II 
to the Cylons.  The damage to the Galactica, while extensive, was easily
repaired.
     Those repairs have been made even easier with the processing
facility that the Cylons abandoned on the planet.  Colonel Becke's
demolition teams spent a full secton securing the facility.  Dr. Wilker's
people had repair components delivered the next day.
     In fact, it is at Dr. Wilker's recommendation that we have remained
in orbit around the planet that Athena and Backis crashed on.  The
planet, Talon, named in honor of our doomed Raptor squadron, was too good
an opportunity to pass up, Wilker had argued.  With the captured
processor and the ancient battlestar Prometheus as raw material, here was
a chance to make major improvements to the fleet.  Not just repairs but
build new ships.  The Council of the Twelve agreed, almost unanimously. 
I didn't think it was wise to remain in the quadrant, but when long-range
patrols reported no Cylon activity, I relented.
     Dr. Wilker immediately put every available man and woman to work on
Talon.  Repairs were completed on the Galactica in less than two sectons. 
The repair crews then began the first of Wilker's new projects. 
Construction began on a new ship designed to refine raw materials into
useable metals.  Copying the Cylon processing plant, the construction of
the Hades II took a mere one sectar.
     After a secton of testing, the crew of the Hades II set course for
the site of our battle with the baseship, with the plan of salvaging what
they could.  Three days later, Jason, Captain of the Hades II contacted
the fleet, requesting that any available freighters be sent to him to
transport refined metal back to the fleet.  The Hades II returned to us
yesterday, after sending us two million tonnes of useable metals.
     Once the first freighter returned to the fleet, construction was
started on the first of three new Agro ships.  Agro Ship IIa was
pressurized earlier today and should be ready to sow her first crop
within the secton.  The other two ships are scheduled for completion over
the next two sectars.
     Our defensive forces are back to full strength, as far as fighters
are concerned.  The necessary pilots and reconnaissance officers will be
completing their training in about six sectons, giving us six squadrons
of Vipers and two squadrons of Raptors.
     With no alerts in three sectars, our warriors have had the
opportunity to get some much-needed sleep.  Many have also gone down to
the surface of Talon for a chance to breathe unfiltered air and to
unwind.  The Council has granted permission for the civilian population
to spend three days per sectar in rest camps, set up on Talon. 
Naturally, there have been calls to end our quest, and settle permanently
on Talon.  To that end, Sire Uri has commissioned geologic surveys of the
entire planet.
     I personally feel that settling here is a bad decision and I fear
that we may still be within the sphere of Cylon domination.

CHAPTER 1

     "Come on, Boomer.  Step it up.  You know how the Commander hates it
when we're late."
     "Relax, Starbuck, we've still got a few centons."
     The two warriors continued down the corridor towards Adama's office. 
Starbuck made no effort to conceal his nervousness.  Twice, he nearly
dropped the data pad he was carrying.
     When they reached the commander's door, Starbuck reached out to
press the signal button, but Boomer caught his wrist and stopped him. 
Starbuck looked at him, slightly irritated.
     "Hey, buddy," Boomer said.  "Why are you so edgy?  As senior
warriors, we talk to the commander nearly every day."
     "Yeah, but how often at our request and with what we're proposing?"
Starbuck asked.
     Starbuck pressed the button and the door opened, almost instantly. 
The two warriors exchanged glances and stepped inside.  The door closed
behind them.
     Seated at the head of the conference table was Commander Adama, who
set his water glass down as the warriors entered.  Seated to Adama's
right was Colonel Tigh, his second in command.  Beside Tigh was Captain
Apollo, Blue Squadron's commander.  On Adama's left was Colonel Jodas,
who was in command of the Raptor squadrons.  Beside him was Captain
Milesar, who led the Black Raptors.
     "Alright, gentlemen," Adama said.  "Whenever you're ready."
     "Yes, sir," Starbuck said.  He plugged his data pad into the
conference table's computer terminal as Boomer sat down beside Apollo.
     "Now, then," Starbuck began, "since we're all pilots here, we know
that the optimum kill shot is from directly behind your target.  In fact,
Boomer, Athena and I went through all the telemetry files we could lay
our hands on.  In both our losses and our kills, forty per cent of the
shots were from behind, within a cone fifteen degrees off the target's
centerline.  Colonel Jodas, as you know, nine telemetry files were
recovered from Grey Talon Squadron.  Sir, eight of the nine were killed
by shots from within this cone."
     "I've seen the telemetry as well, son," Jodas said.  "Unfortunately,
the same's been true for the past thousand yahrens."
     "Yes, sir, but it need not be so in the future," Starbuck said,
activating the display screen.  A schematic diagram of a Raptor appeared. 
The image rotated until the ship was seen from above.
     "What we propose, sirs, is to install a double laser turret between
the exhaust ports, operated by the Recon Officer.  The servos will allow
for coverage of a cone fifty degrees all around the centerline behind the
ship."
     "An interesting notion, Lieutenant," Jodas said.  "But, in one
thousand yahrens of war, it's never been tried before.  Why do you
suppose that is?"
     "I don't know, Colonel," Starbuck countered.  "Why do you suppose
that no one ever designed a two-person fighter before the Raptor?"
     "Point and counter point," Jodas chuckled.  "I assume that you boys
want to play with one of the prototypes?"
     "That's correct, Colonel," Boomer said.  " We've discussed this with
Dr. Wilker and some of the technicians that work on the Raptors.  We
should be able to complete the modifications in two days."
     "What kind of modifications?" Milesar asked.
     Starbuck entered a command into the computer and an exploded view of
the engine compartment of a Raptor appeared.
     "Our proposal is to add another laser generator to each engine. 
Wilker assures us that the extra load will be no problem for the engines. 
This will mean extending the engine pods just under one metron.  The
laser generator, the extended engine pods and the lasers themselves will
increase the weight by four hundred kilos.  So, there shouldn't be a
significant change in the flight characteristics." Boomer explained.
     "We programmed a simulator with our changes and there were no
problems," Starbuck added.
     Adama smiled at the two warriors.  He couldn't help but feel proud
of these men.  They had spent a significant portion of their leisure time
on their proposal, and had thought of, and answered, all of Adama's
questions.
     "Questions or comments, gentlemen?" Adama asked.
     "Well, Commander, " Jodas said, "I'm very impressed with this
proposal.  A lot of thought has gone into this.  I like the idea and
think it should advance to the prototype stage."     
     ""I agree, sir" Milesar said.  "But, I would like to inspect their
modifications before it flies."
     "Fair enough. Tigh?"
     "That seems prudent, Commander," Tigh said, smiling.  "Most of us
are aware how much these two like to get into trouble."
     The senior officers chuckled at Starbuck's discomfort.
     "Well, since they belong to my squadron, I guess I'll have to make
sure that they don't make a mess," Apollo said.  "Or, at least make sure
that they clean up the ones they do make."
     "Very well, gentlemen," Adama said.  "You have official permission
to continue with your project.  Prepare the prototype for flight test. 
But, remember Apollo and Milesar inspect your modifications before any
flight tests take place.  Understood?"
     "Yes, sir," Starbuck and Boomer said in unison.
     "Good.  Since this is your project, who would you like to do the
flight tests?"
     Starbuck and Boomer exchanged a quick glance.
     "Commander, we wouldn't feel right if our design failed and someone
died during the tests.  We'd rather conduct the test flights ourselves,"
Starbuck said.
     That feeling of pride was welling up inside of Adama again.
     "Are you qualified?" Adama asked.
     "Over the past three sectars, we've each logged over one hundred
simulator centars and ten actual centars in each seat," Boomer said. 
"That should be enough to conduct our tests." 
     "We figured that, sooner or later, the Viper would be phased out in
favor of the Raptor, and we wanted to be ready," Starbuck added.
     "You mean you couldn't stand the thought of not being the best pilot
in the fleet," Apollo teased.
     "The way your sister's been flying lately, I'm not sure I am now."
Starbuck said.
     "Alright, that's enough," Adama said, in a fatherly tone.  "I have a
Council meeting in a centar, and still have some work to do.  You are all
dismissed.  Tigh, please remain behind for a moment."
     Once the others had filed out, Adama turned to his old friend, and
said, "I fear that Uri is going to recommend that we settle here on
Talon."
     "Adama, the survey results haven't been processed yet.  Anything Uri
would have to say would be based on little or no facts."
     "We both know that that never stopped Uri before," Adama chuckled.

Chapter 2

     As Adama entered the Council Chamber, the other members stopped
talking and took their seats.  Adama took his position at the head of the
table.
     "This meeting of the Council of the Twelve is called to order," he
said.  "Sire Uri, since you requested this special session, the floor is
yours."
     "Thank you, Mr. President," Uri said, as he stood up.  "When I asked
for this special session, I had planned to recommend that we end our
journey and settle here on Talon."  Uri picked up a small stack of
papers.  "After seeing the report prepared by the Rising Star's chemistry
laboratory, I must admit that Talon is unsuitable for settlement.  The
soil is too acidic to grow our food crops.  The native plants are only
usable in very small quantities.  Doctor Salik says that prolonged
consumption would lead to severe stomach disorders.  Tylium is present in
only negligible quantities.  The other raw materials that we need would
only last for approximately five yahrens.  The only good news is that the
water is clean and abundant."
     Sire Uri dropped the report onto the table and sat down, defeated.
     "Uri, you've always been in favor of ending our search for Earth,"
Sire Anton pointed out.  "Why the change of heart now?"
     "My dear Anton, even I can see that there is no future for our
people here," Uri replied.  "The facts speak for themselves."
     "So, what do you suggest?" Anton asked.
     "We must make the best of a bad situation," Uri summed up.  "I
suggest that we remain in orbit around Talon until all of the usable
materials from the Prometheus have been salvaged.  Doctor Wilker says
enough soil can be made usable to fill our new agro ships in about two
sectons.  We should continue to allow small groups of people to venture
to the surface for the opportunity to walk in the sun and breathe fresh
air.  In fact, Mr. President, you haven't gone down to Talon yet."
     "Why should I, Uri?" Adama asked.  "Is there something I should
see?"
     "You really should see Wilker's processing plant," Uri admitted. 
"But, that's not what I mean.  Breathing unfiltered air for a few centars
will do you good.  If I become president, I want to because I defeated
you, not because you dropped over dead."
     Adama rubbed his jaw.  Uri's ambition for the presidency was well
known.  Still, Adama was fairly certain that this was not a power play.
     "Alright, Uri," Adama said, finally.  " I will go to Talon within
the next few days.  I admit it will be good to feel the sun on my face
again."
     "That's fine, Mr. President," Uri said.  "And to prove that my
intentions are honorable, I shall accompany you, so you can keep an eye
on me."
     "Fair enough, Uri," Adama chuckled.  "Now then, is there any other
business?"
     When no one spoke up, Adama said, "Alright then, this session is
adjourned."
     Adama left the Council Chamber and made his way back to his
quarters.  As he turned the last corner, he saw a familiar figure
standing outside his door.
     "Athena," Adama said.
     "Hello Father," Athena said, as she hugged him.
     "I don't get to see you as much, now that you're flying with the
Black Raptors," he chided her.
     "I know and I'm sorry," she said, looking down at the deck.  "I've
been spending too much of my down-time with my squadron, and not enough
with my family.  But, that's going to change.  I came here to see if
you're free for dinner tonight."
     "As a matter of fact, I am," Adama said.  "Did you have something in
mind?"
     "I was hoping for a quiet meal in your quarters, and maybe watch the
Triad game with you," Athena admitted.
     "That sounds like an absolutely perfect ending to my day," Adama
said, as he opened the door and gestured his daughter into his quarters.

Chapter 3

     "Hey, Big brother, wait up!"
     Apollo turned around to see Athena jogging up the corridor to catch
up with him.
     "Athena, I'm afraid I can't stop and chat right now," he said.  "I'm
supposed to meet Captain Milesar in Beta bay to inspect the modifications
to the Raptor prototype made by Starbuck and Boomer."
     "I know," Athena replied.  "But, Milesar has been delayed by
squadron business, so he sent me to take his place."
     "I doubt anyone else knows more about the computer systems, but are
you qualified to judge the mechanical systems?"
     Athena laughed.
     "About as qualified as you and Milesar are," she replied.  "I think
he just wants us to make sure that Starbuck remembered to point the
engines the right way."
     Now, it was Apollo's turn to laugh.
     "Alright, let's go see how things are going,' he said.
     "How's Boxey?" Athena asked.  "I been so busy lately, I haven't
spent any time with him in over a sectar."
     The two siblings stepped onto the lift to Beta launch bay.
     "Actually, I haven't seen much of him in the past sectar either,"
Apollo admitted, as the lift began its descent.  "Doctor Salik has moved
most of the children Boxey's age and older to a camp sight down on Talon. 
Salik says that the children need unfiltered air and natural light more
than we adults do."  
     "That's true," Athena said.  "I remember Mother telling us that
being out in the sun would help us grow."
     "I remember that, too.  Anyway Salik and Cassiopeia are the only
adults who have been staying at the camp full time.  The rest of the
time, off-duty warriors have been conducting various classes in survival
and woodcraft.  I understand that Ensign Backis' hats were a big hit."
     "Oh, no," Athena groaned, as the lift came to rest in Beta landing
bay.  "I had hoped that I'd never see another of those things again."
     "Why?" Apollo asked, amused.
     "When Backis and I crashed on the planet, he got the impression that
I was spoiled because I didn't know much about wilderness survival."
     Apollo stepped off the lift, chuckling.
     "You never took the survival course?"
     "Bridge officers don't have to," Athena pointed out.  " Probably
because we're not expected to crash."
     Apollo laughed at that.
     "Come on, let's go see what Starbuck and Boomer are up to."
     They made their way across the busy launch bay to where the
prototype Raptor was parked.  They were still ten metrons from the ship
when they heard a dull thud and tools hit the deck plates.
     "Ow, frak," Starbuck's voice burst from an open access hatch on the
left engine pod.
     Athena jogged over to where Starbuck's legs and lower torso were
sticking out of the hatch.
     "Starbuck, are you all right?" she asked, as she put her hand on the
small of Starbuck's back.
     Starbuck jumped and banged his head on the inside of the engine pod. 
His knees buckled and he collapsed to the deck, holding his head.
     "Ow, frak," Starbuck said, again.  "That hurts."
     "Oh, Starbuck, I'm so sorry," Athena said, kneeling down beside him. 
"I didn't mean to startle you."
     Starbuck shook his head, opened his eyes and closed them again, to
allow the cobwebs to clear.
     "Athena, please don't take this the wrong way," he said, finally,
"but, what the frak are you doing here?"
     "Being abusive won't help your headache, buddy," Boomer said,
climbing out of the cockpit.
     "Yeah, you're right, Boomer," Starbuck said.  "Athena, I'm sorry for
the foul language."
     "And, I'm sorry for startling you," Athena replied.  "To answer your
question, Milesar is busy, so he sent me in his place."
     "The joys of being a squadron executive officer, huh?" Starbuck
chuckled, as he stood up and dusted himself off.
     Boomer looked inside the open access hatch, then closed and secured
it.
     "If you're through trying to get yourself confined to the Life
Station, we're ready to conduct some cold tests," he said.
     "Come on, Boomer," Starbuck said.  "You know I haven't done anything
like this since the Academy.  I'm a pilot, not a technician.  You're
lucky we're both not in the Life Station."
     "Are you suggesting that you aren't qualified to perform these
modifications?" Apollo asked, seriously.  "You know this ship doesn't fly
if it's not safe."
     "We didn't say it wasn't safe," Starbuck said, defensively.  " We
meant the work would have gone faster, and we'd have fewer skinned
knuckles."
     Boomer climbed into the cockpit's rear seat and gestured for Apollo
and Athena to climb onto the left wing.
     "Starbuck," Boomer instructed, "Go behind the ship and act like a
target."
     "Why do I have to be the target?" Starbuck whined.
     "Because I'm already in the R.O.'s seat," Boomer reasoned.
     "Of all the utter felgercarb," Starbuck muttered under his breath,
as he went behind the Raptor.
     "This panel controls the new lasers," Boomer told the siblings.  He
flipped a toggle switch.  "The system is now powered up.  Targeting data
is displayed on the R.O.'s scanner readout, just like for the pilot. 
This controller aims the turret."
     Boomer moved the controller and the others could see the barrels of
the twin lasers move accordingly.
     "The only thing we don't like is how slow those servos move,"
Starbuck called from behind the Raptor.  "A lot can happen in five
microns."
     "Five microns?" Apollo asked.
     "That's how long it takes for these servos to move from one extreme
to the other," Boomer explained.  "But these are the fastest one
available."
     "Even so, Boomer," Starbuck said, as he climbed onto the right wing,
"these lasers should go a long way to reduce our loses."
     "How are things going, Starbuck?" a female voice called from near
the nose of the Raptor.
     The four warriors looked to see who was there.
     "Tarnia, Copernicus, it's great to see you," Starbuck said, as he
slid off the wing.
     Copernicus' body language told Starbuck that Copernicus was becoming
over-whelmed by all of the new sights and sound in the launch bay. 
Starbuck slowed down and slowly extended his hand.
     "Copernicus, I'm glad to see you," he said, in a quieter voice. 
"Your help has been invaluable with our project.  Thanks."
     "Is everything working?" Copernicus asked.
     "Everything's working great," Starbuck replied.  "The servos are
slower than we'd like, but these are the only ones available."
     "Too slow, too slow, too slow..." Copernicus' voice trailed off.
     Tarnia took his hand.
     "He'll be fine in a while," she told the warriors.  "This morning
has been too much for him."
     "How have things been going in the lab?" Apollo asked.
     "Doctor Wilker lets him work whenever he wants, so he works
constantly," Tarnia shook her head.  "But he's happy and his panic
attacks happen less frequently, I just have to remind him that he still
has to eat and sleep."
     "I've never met Copernicus before," Athena said.  "But Starbuck has
told me how Copernicus saved his like on the Sagittarius. I think it's
wonderful that Starbuck was able to get you both transferred to the
Galactica.  How have you settled in, Tarnia?"
     "Well, Lieutenant, I had done some volunteer work in a residence for
patients like Copernicus, back on Sagittarius, do Doctor Salik put me to
work in the Life Station.  With Cassiopeia's help, I've nearly completed
the training to become a med-tech," Tarnia said.  "It feels wonderful to
have a true purpose to my life, again."
     "Tarnia, I have to go back to the lab now," Copernicus said.  "I've
something to do, something to do, something to do."
     "Alright, Copernicus, I'll take you back."
     "When do you conduct the test on the lasers?" Copernicus asked.
     "We plan to test fire them tomorrow," Starbuck said.  "Why?"
     "Come see me tomorrow, before the tests."
     With that, Copernicus turned and started walking toward the lift,
with Tarnia in tow.
     "Good luck," she called over her shoulder.
     "What was that all about?" Athena asked.
     "Knowing Copernicus like I do, he's solved some problem," Starbuck
said, shaking his head.  "And he probably won't rest until he's built his
device."
     "He mentioned the tests," Athena said.  "How will you test the
lasers?"
     "We'll test the scanner lock and do some controlled live fire
drills," Starbuck said.
     "Under what conditions?" Athena asked.
     "We'll lock on and fire at a Viper with lasers at one per cent
power," Starbuck explained.
     "We really should have two more ships recording the tests," Boomer
said.  "If something goes wrong, the telemetry could help us solve the
problem."
     "Boomer, you and Starbuck have spent a lot of time planning this
out.  You've gotten input from both Doctor Wilker and Copernicus.  I've
got confidence in your work," Apollo said.  "Sheba and I will be your
targets."
     "The Raptors will provide two ships to conduct the scanning," Athena
said.  "And two more ships to fly cover.  We don't need any surprises."

Chapter 4

     "Maybe a mug of ale will ease your headache, Starbuck," Boomer said,
as they entered the Officers' Club.
     "My favorite cure," said Starbuck, reaching into his jacket's inside
pocket.  He pulled out a large cigar.  "An ale and a smoke."
     "The first round is on me, gentlemen," a voice said from behind
them.
     The two friends turned around to see Colonel Jodas.  He gestured
them to a large table.  The barman quickly brought three large mugs of
cold ale.
     Starbuck picked up his mug and saluted the colonel.
     "Thank you, Colonel," Starbuck said.  "You're not going soft on us,
are you?"
     "Would you care to strap into the simulator and see how soft I've
gotten?"
     "That sounds like an event I'd pay to see," Athena said, as she,
Backis, Tarril and Tucino sat down.
     "Hey, who said I wanted to fly against him?" Starbuck asked. 
"Usually, the only time Colonel Jodas buys a round is when someone
doesn't come home."
     "There are a select few other rare occasions," admitted Jodas.  "And
this is one of them."
     "What's that?" Nagon asked, as he and Fen joined the group.  "Has
Grandpa loosened the purse strings?"
     "Careful, Lieutenant," Jodas warned.  "Don't forget I have the
authority to make your professional life very uncomfortable."
     "Like checking for solium leaks, maybe?" Boomer asked.  "I remember
pulling that duty a few times while I was in the Academy."
     "And look how well you turned out," Jodas said, smiling.  He raised
his mug and added, "Now then, children, a toast."  He waited for the
other mugs to be raised.  "To original ideas and the warriors who
conceive them."
     "Hear, hear," came from the warriors.
     "We haven't proved that it works yet," Boomer pointed out.
     "Boomer, why are you always so negative about your abilities?"
Athena demanded.  "Your electronic wizardry has always worked in the
past.  Remember the time when the Galactica was on fire and you hot wired
the door of the Rejuvenation Center and saved Boxey, me and about twenty
other people?"
     "And that beacon when Apollo and I boarded that baseship," Starbuck
added.
     "We never did find out if that worked," Boomer pointed out. 
"Remember, you guys lost the beacon on the baseship, and had to waggle
your wings so we wouldn't blast you.  But, I've never attempted anything
nearly this complex."
     "Don't forget, Boomer, you had Doctor Wilker and Starbuck's friend,
Copernicus, to consult with," Backis said.
     "And Starbuck himself," Fen added.
     "Right. Starbuck's a big help with electronics," Boomer said.
     "Hey, kid, all that electronic felgercarb is out of my league,"
Starbuck said.  "I handled the mechanical end of this project."
     "I remember a young cadet who just couldn't grasp instrument flying
when he was in the Academy," Jodas said.  He took a long drink of his
ale.  "He was an excellent seat of the pants flyer, so we spent sectars
working in the simulators.  Eventually, he became one of the best pilots
in the fleet."
     "Truth be told, I still prefer seat of the pants flying," Starbuck
said.  "It's loads more fun."
     "I can't believe you had trouble with the technical aspects of
flying, Starbuck," Nen said.
     "Orphans don't get greatest education," Starbuck replied.
     "And you still turned out to be a hotshot pilot," Boomer said.
     "Yeah, but for how much longer, buddy?" Starbuck asked.  " In the
past six sectars, there's been a sabotaged Viper, a mob on the
Sagittarius, and a suicide cult that wanted to take me with them. 
Doesn't sound like the old 'Starbuck Luck' was working so well."
     "Gee, I don't know, Starbuck" Athena said.  "You weren't blinded by
the explosion and you survived at least two close quarters attempts on
your life.  I'd say you still get more than your fair share of luck."
     "I'm just getting a little concerned that I may have made one too
many withdrawals from the depository," Starbuck said.
     Jodas shook his head.
     "My boy," he said, "I wouldn't worry about it too much.  If Adama
hasn't terminated you after some of the situations you've gotten into,
then there's nothing the Cylons can do to you."
     Jodas finished his ale, set his mug on the table, and stood up.
     "And now, children, I must be getting home to my wife.  Don't stay
too much longer, it's nearly curfew.  Good night, all."
     "Good night, Colonel," the younger warriors said in unison, as their
superior left the room.
     "He's right, folks," Starbuck said.  "I promised Copernicus I'd stop
and him before we made the test flight."
     "And Captain Milesar has appointed himself and all of us as the
observers and the cover," Athena said.  "So we need to turn in shortly,
too."
     The other members of Black Raptor Squadron stood up.  Boomer
remained seated.
     "You coming, Boomer?" Starbuck asked.
     "I'm going to stay and have another drink," Boomer replied.  "I'm
too nervous to sleep."
     "Lieutenant, I have great confidence in your abilities," Tucino
said.  "Besides, you won't be shooting at us."
     "Hey, thanks a lot, kid," Boomer grimaced.
     Athena leaned over and gave Boomer a quick kiss on the cheek.
     "Good night, Boomer," she said.  "Don't stay up too late."
     Just one more drink, Mother.  I promise."

Chapter 5

     The next morning, Starbuck and Boomer ventured down to Doctor
Wilker's laboratory to meet with Copernicus.  The only person in the lab
was Dix, one of Wilker's assistants.
     "Sorry, sirs," Dix said.  "Doctor Wilker and Copernicus are down in
Beta bay."
     "Did they say why?" Starbuck asked.
     "They were leaving as I reported for duty, Lieutenant," Dix replied. 
"They were both very excited and all I understood was 'Beta bay' and
something about the Raptor prototype."
     "Maybe Copernicus came up with something," Boomer said.  Let's go
down to Beta bay and find out."
     "Yeah, but what could he have come up with in one night?" Starbuck
asked, as the two warriors left the lab.
     The two warriors were on the lift to Beta bay in a matter of
centons.  Silently, they rode the lift to the landing bay.  They quickly
crossed the bay to where the Raptor prototype was parked.  Doctor Wilker
and Copernicus were watching as two of Black Raptor Squadron's
technicians were closing up maintenance hatches on the engine pods.
     "Starbuck, Boomer, is it morning already?" Wilker asked.
     "It's morning, Doctor," Starbuck said.  "What's going on?"
     "Well, I stopped into the lab late last night, to get some notes I'd
forgotten," Wilker explained.  "I found Copernicus deep into a set of
servos.  Casually, I started to ask questions.  Before I knew it, we had
totally redesigned the whole system.  I think you'll be pleased with what
we've come up with."
     "We made the servos faster, Starbuck," Copernicus said, proudly. 
"And, we reduced the system's weight by twenty kilos."
     "That's a fairly significant weight reduction," Boomer commented. 
"How'd you manage it?"
     "The schematics are in the lab, gentlemen," Wilker said, yawning. 
"Feel free to check them out anytime.  But now, Copernicus and I need to
get something to eat and get some rest.  I, for one, have been
functioning on nothing but java for at least eight centars."
     "I must admit that I'm getting tired, too," Copernicus said.
     "Then, by all means, call it a day, or night, or whatever," Starbuck
said.  "It's time for our test flight anyway."
     "Then 'Good luck', Lieutenants," Wilker said, as he and Copernicus
walked off.
     "Since we don't have time to check out their redesign, you'd better
begin your pre-flight checks," Boomer said.
     "Why do I have to do the pre-flights?" Starbuck whined.
     "Because you won the card game last night," Boomer pointed out. 
"And, therefore, the right to do the flying."
     "Oh, yeah," Starbuck replied, with a huge grin.  "The others should
be here soon."
     While Boomer climbed into the R.O.'s seat, Starbuck reached into the
front cockpit for a clipboard, which held the Raptor's checklist. 
Starbuck didn't want to take the chance of forgetting an item.  Starbuck
and Boomer finished their pre-flight checks at about the same time.
     "Now, we wait for the others," Boomer said.
     "Well, the designated targets are ready to go," Apollo said, as he
and Sheba came around the nose of the Raptor Prototype.
     "Our Vipers are pre-flighted and ready to go," Sheba added.
     "Black Raptor Squadron is ready as well," Captain Milesar, said as
he and Athena rounded the read of the prototype.
     "Raptors One through Four are ready to launch," Athena said.
     "How do you want us deployed?" Milesar asked.
     "We'd like all of the Raptors to launch with us," Boomer said. 
"Nagon and Tarril should keep the prototype between them and the fleet. 
Fen and Tucino will keep their scanners pointed away from the fleet. 
They probably won't see anything, but Colonel Tigh would like the
coverage."
     "You observers should try to maintain a distance of about ten
thousand metrons," Starbuck continued.  "Record everything, all along the
EM spectrum.  If anything goes wrong, the scans might help solve the
problems."
     "What about the targets?" Apollo asked.
     "Rigel's gonna give you clearance to launch between ten and twenty
centons after we launch," Starbuck said.  "Don't tell us you're ready to
attack, just make your runs.  We want to make this as real as possible. 
But, Boomer has cut the power on the lasers."
     "One per cent power, Apollo," Boomer said.  "Just enough to register
on scanners."
     "If we do run into trouble," Sheba asked, " how long will it take to
return the lasers to full power?"
     "The same as a Viper," Boomer said.  "Ten microns."
     "I figure three passes should be enough," Starbuck said.
     "This all sounds reasonable, Lieutenant," Milesar said.
     "Well, then, let's mount up," Athena said.
     Milesar shook hands with Starbuck and Boomer, while Athena gave them
each a friendly hug, then the two Raptor pilots jogged to their
respective ships.
     "Good luck, guys," Sheba said, giving the two friends a quick hug.
     "Be careful, fellas, Apollo warned.  "You two mean an awful lot to
me."
     "Aw, don't get all sentimental on us, buddy," Starbuck said.  "This
is going to be fairly routine."
     "Yeah, we'll see you in a couple of centars," Boomer said.  "And the
first round is on you."
     "Sounds fair," Apollo agreed.
     "So, let's get ready, guys," Starbuck said.
     The four friends headed to their respective ships.  Starbuck and
Boomer quickly climbed into the Raptor prototype and strapped in.  The
helmets came next and the canopy was sealed.  Starbuck started up the
Raptor's twin engines and brought all of the onboard systems online."
     "Everything set, Boomer?" he asked.
     "I'm ready to go," Boomer replied.
     "Then, let's get into position."
     Starbuck eased the throttles forward and taxied the prototype clear
of the parking area and onto the flight line.  He eased up to the launch
line, eased the throttles back to an idle and set the brakes.
     "Core Command, this is Raptor Thirteen, standing by," Starbuck said
into the Unicom.
     "Raptor Thirteen, Core Command acknowledges."
     Starbuck and Boomer waited patiently while the other Raptors
reported their launch readiness.
     "Core command transferring control to Raptor flight," Rigel's voice
said over the Unicom.  "Launch when ready."
     Starbuck released the brakes and shoved the throttles to launch
power.  Raptor Thirteen shot forward, out of the launch bay.  The other
four Raptors quickly followed.
     "Every time I launch one of these babies, I fall in love with them
again," Starbuck said.
     "I know what you mean, buddy," Boomer agreed.
     "Raptors Three and Four, assume your position," Milesar said. 
"Remember, stay well clear and keep alert.  Raptor Thirteen and the
Vipers are going to be vulnerable."
     "Raptors Three and Four acknowledges, Raptor Leader," Nagon said. 
"We'll keep your backs covered."
     Raptors Three and Four lit up their turbos and sped ahead to their
patrol positions.  Raptors One and Two eased off to a range of ten
thousand metrons to monitor the prototype.
     "Now the fun begins," Starbuck said, tightening his grip on the
control stick.
     "Oh, Lords," Boomer muttered, as he checked his restraints.
     Starbuck put the prototype through a series of tight turns and
rolls.  Everything handled perfectly, and the extended engine pods didn't
restrict the rearward visibility in any way.  Next, he fired the turbos
and brought the prototype up to full speed.  There were no vibrations or
other indications of problems.
     "Everything looked good, back here," Boomer said.
     "It looked good up here, too," Starbuck replied.  "What's the status
of the lasers."
     "There at one per cent power and ready for the tests."
     "That's good, because my scanners show two Vipers coming up from
behind us, ten microns out."
     The first shots of powered down laser energy just missed the
prototype's left wing.  Starbuck turned the tail of the prototype toward
the oncoming Vipers to give Boomer the targets.  Boomer's targeting
computer quickly locked onto the flight of Vipers.  Sheba was now
directly astern of the prototype.  Boomer acquired a weapons lock and
fired.  Boomer's scanners registered a direct hit.
     "Nice shot, Boomer," Sheba called, as she turned clear of the
combat.
     "Now get her boyfriend," Starbuck said.  "He can't be too far away."
     "He's not," Boomer said.  "Just hold us steady."
     Apollo was keeping a steady position, twenty degrees above and
thirty-one degrees left of the prototype's centerline.  Boomer swung the
laser turret over and locked onto Apollo's Viper.  Another quick shot and
the first test was over.
     "Nicely done, gentlemen," Milesar radioed.  "What's next?"
     "Boomer, we should test the speed of these new servos," Starbuck
pointed out.  "Our tests wouldn't be complete until we see just how much
faster Copernicus and Wilker made the new servos."
     "Good point, Starbuck," Boomer agreed.  " Apollo, Sheba, drop back
to ten thousand metrons, then drift fifty degrees off our centerline in
exactly opposite directions."
     "Understood," Apollo said, as he and Sheba began to drop behind the
prototype.  Slowly, Apollo eased left of Starbuck's course, while Sheba
moved right.
     Boomer acquired a weapons lock on Apollo's Viper.  He fired one
quick shot, then swung the turret toward Sheba.  The targeting computer
quickly locked onto the second Viper.  Boomer instantly fired.
     "One point eight microns," Starbuck said in disbelief.  "The old
servos took just over five microns."
     "Copernicus and Wilker did a great job, buddy." Boomer agreed.
     "Do you have any other tests, Boomer?" Athena asked.
     "Just one, " Boomer replied.  "Apollo and Sheba have to fly
perpendicular to our course and at least ten thousand metrons behind us. 
I want to see if the weapons lock can keep up.  Oh, make the second pass
with turbos."
     "That seems reasonable," Apollo said, as he checked his fuel
readout.  "Your fuel still good, Sheba?"
     "A little better than half," Sheba said.  "More than enough."
     "Then let's get onto position for our runs."
     The two Vipers arched away to a range of about twenty thousand
metrons, then swung around to begin their run.  Apollo and Sheba timed
their pass perfectly, crossing the prototype's flight path exactly ten
thousand metrons to the rear.  Boomer locked onto the lead Viper,
Apollo's, the instant the vipers entered the prototype's weapons cone. 
The computer followed the Vipers across the entire traverse of the
lasers.
     "Well, so far so good," Boomer said.  "The computer kept up with the
Vipers no problem."
     "Apollo, Sheba, make your second run," Starbuck said.  "Remember to
use turbos."
     The Viper pilots reversed direction and ignited their battle
thrusters in perfect unison.  Once again, they passed exactly ten
thousand metrons behind the Raptor prototype.  This time, however, the
targeting computer lost weapons lock three-quarters of the distance
across the weapon's cone.
     "Well, that didn't go as well as I'd like," Boomer said.  "I
couldn't maintain the lock."
     "The lock held for most of the run," Starbuck pointed out. 
"Besides, a Viper at full throttle is faster than a Cylon Raider."
     "Congratulations, boys," Athena gushed.  "Your new system works
perfectly."
     "Not perfectly," Boomer said.  "There's always room for
improvement."
     Milesar and Athena eased their Raptors into the wing positions of
the Raptor prototype.  Apollo and Sheba took up position behind the group
of Raptors.
     "Let's head back to the Galactica," Milesar said.   "The first round
at the Officers' Club is on me."
     "Sorry, Raptor Leader.  Captain Apollo has already committed to the
first round.  How about the second round?"
     "Sounds reasonable, Starbuck."
     "Hey, Captain," Backis said, from Athena's rear seat.  "Are you sure
your wife will allow you to use that much of your allowance in one
place?"
     Before Milesar could voice a response, Nagon broke in.
     "Raptor Leader, this is Raptor Three.  We may have a problem out
here."
     "Specify, Raptor Three."
     "We're picking up something at the edge of our long-range scanners. 
But, we can't get a positive identification."
     "Understood, Raptor Three," Milesar responded.  "You and Raptor Four
check it out, but be careful."
     "Copy, boss," Nagon replied.  "We'll check it out."
     The two Raptor pilots nudged their throttles to maximum and headed
out to investigate the contact.
     "What could they have scanned?" Sheba asked.
     "If it was nothing to worry about, Fen wouldn't even have reported
it," Backis pointed out.  "Rega taught the R.O.'s not to report natural
phenomena unless the fleet's going to come within one centar of the
contact."
     "We cut down on false alarms this way," Rega added.  "Our young
R.O.'s tend to get a little excited."
     "Raptor Leader, this is Raptor Three," Nagon called back.  "We have
scanned the contacts.  What we have is four loaded Cylon tankers escorted
by ten Raiders."
     "Plot possible origin and destination," Milesar ordered, now totally
business.  "Do not engage, repeat, do not engage."
     "The fleet could use the fuel, Captain," Athena pointed out.
     "If there are no surprises, the odds are good," Starbuck added.
     "Are you two insane?" Apollo asked, incredulously.  "We can't just
jump four Cylon tankers.  We have to think of the fleet's safety."
     "The tankers are on course three-five-nine," Tucino reported.  "We
can't isolate a specific planet as their point of origin.  There's
nothing within scanner range."
     "That course puts them on a direct line for Talon," Sheba
calculated.  "They'll discover the fleet."
     "They must have been sent out to meet up with Shadow's baseship,"
Boomer said.
     "If we're going to engage them, we should do it as far away from the
fleet as possible," Milesar decided.  "So we might as well try to capture
at least one of the tankers.  But, it's your call, Apollo."
     "I agree with you, Milesar," Apollo replied.  "We'll hit them out
here.  I'll report to the Galactica."

Chapter 6

     "This is Blue Leader to the Galactica.  Black Raptor Three has
located four loaded Cylon tankers, escorted by ten Raiders, on a direct
course toward the fleet.  We are going to intercept the convoy with the
intention of capturing at least one of the tankers.  Send reinforcements,
in case more fighters show up.  Blue Leader out.

     On the bridge of the Galactica, all of the senior officers had
gathered around Omega's console to monitor the new developments.
     "Where could those tankers have come from?" Tigh wondered.
     "That's irrelevant for the moment, Colonel," Adama said.  "Launch
Blue and Black Raptor Squadrons.  Have Red and Silver Spar Squadrons
stand by."
     Omega sounded the alert klaxon.  All through the Galactica, warriors
raced to their duty stations.  Pilots collected their flight gear and
boarded the fast transports to the launch bays.
     Three centons after the alert sounded, all squadrons reported ready
to launch.
     "Core Command transferring control to Blue and Black Raptor
Squadrons," Rigel said, over the Unicom.  "Launch when ready."

     "Raptor Leader, take Raptors Two, Three and Four and take care of
those fighters," Apollo instructed.  "The rest of us will go after the
tankers."
     "Understood, Blue Leader," Milesar said, as he and Athena turned and
increased speed to catch up with Nagon and Tarril.
     "Raptor Leader, this is Raptor Three," Nagon reported in.  "The
Cylon fighters are changing course to engage us."
     "Raptors Three and Four, use lasers only," Milesar directed.  "Save
your missiles in case more fighters show up."
     "If you guys don't get here fast, there won't be any Raiders left
for you to play with," Fen said.  "Four Raiders are destroyed already,
and the others haven't got a shot off yet."
     "Starbuck, Sheba, switch to Blue Squadron's frequency," Apollo said. 
"We'll be able to here ourselves think.  Those Raptor crews chatter too
much in combat."
     "Understood," Starbuck and Sheba said in unison, amusement in their
voices.
     Once the three had changed frequencies, Apollo explained his plan.
     "Starbuck, keep the prototype behind us.  You only have a limited
amount of experience at those controls.  I don't want you shooting at
loaded tankers," Apollo directed.  "Sheba, take the lead.  While you were
aboard the Pegasus, you guys jumped a few tankers."
     "I've got the tankers on my scanners," Sheba said.  "The warbook
says that they're the same type as the ones we jumped coming out of
Gamoray."
     "So, how do we disable them," Boomer asked.
     "These tankers are fully automated, so they have no crew of
centurions," Sheba explained.  "The easiest way is to start at the rear
of the convoy.  All we have to do is take out the dorsal antenna array. 
Without the array, the onboard computers can't receive instructions, so
they shut the engines down.  Then we board the tankers and take them back
to the fleet."
     "Gee, Sheba," Starbuck said.  "You make it sound so easy.  At any
rate, Boomer and I've got you covered."
     The Vipers eased in behind the rear-most tanker in the convoy. 
Starbuck kept the Raptor prototype about two hundred metrons behind and
above the Vipers.  Sheba had no trouble targeting the antenna array on
the rear-most tanker.
     "Here goes nothing," Sheba said, as she pressed the firing button.
     Three double bolts of turbo laser fire erupted from Sheba's Viper. 
The first pair melted the array's parabolic dish.  The second and third
pair shredded the rest of the antenna array clean off.  Scorched metal
was the only remaining clue that something had once been there.
     As Sheba predicted, the tanker's drive units shut down and she began
to slow down.  Sheba expelled the breath that she hadn't realized she had
held.
     "You see, I told you it was easy," she said.
     "If that's your idea of easy," Boomer chided her," I'd hate to see
difficult.  My scanners show that the tylium in the bunker directly under
that antenna array nearly started to boil."
     "We lost about half of the tankers we jumped while I was aboard the
Pegasus," Sheba said.  "It's almost impossible to get a decent shot with
Cylon Raiders trying to shoot your astroms off."
     "The Raptors appear to be keeping the Raiders away from us,"
Starbuck observed.  "So, let's try a slightly different method.  Apollo,
get directly behind the tanker.  Then, come up over the drive units, just
enough to target the antenna array.  Your shot should be parallel to the
hull of the tanker, so the tylium shouldn't get too hot."
     "Listen to him," Boomer laughed.  "He's come up with two good ideas
in the past sectar.  We'll have to make sure he doesn't get a swelled
head."
     "We may have to put up with his swelled head," Apollo chuckled. 
"It's a good idea.  I'll try it."
     "Get as close as possible before your climb over the drive unit,"
Starbuck instructed.  "The array is less that two metrons tall."
     Still chuckling to himself, Apollo dropped his Viper directly behind
the next tanker in the convoy.  Slowly, he closed on the stern of the
tanker.  Onboard telemetry showed the Viper's external temperature
steadily rising toward the critical range.
     "Apollo, be careful," Sheba warned.
     Silently, Apollo kept one eye on the external temperature gauge,
while concentrating on the nearing drive unit.  When the gauge was fifty
degrees below critical, Apollo eased back on his control stick and began
to climb over the tanker.
     The antenna array was about one hundred metrons forward of the rear
edge of the drive units.  Apollo's Viper was fifty metrons in the
opposite direction.  Apollo knew that he would barely be able to see his
target with the naked eye.  So, he was forced to make this surgical shot
while relying on instruments.
     Apollo had risen about five metrons above the drive units when his
targeting computer locked on the antenna array.  Apollo fired the instant
he had a lock.
     The first laser bolts neatly sheared the antenna off.  Almost
instantly, the tanker's engines shut down.  Apollo flew the length of the
disabled ship, surveying the damage.  He saw none, not even scorch marks.
     "Starbuck's theory worked," Apollo said, jubilantly.  "Tanker Number
Two has shut down and is ready for recovery."
     "And how well cooked is your Viper's nose?" Boomer asked.  "You got
a little close to those exhaust ports, didn't you?"
     "When I said get as close as possible to the drives, I didn't mean
inside them," Starbuck chided.
     "Just following your theory as precisely as I could, buddy," Apollo
replied.  "Besides, I was able to make some measurements that will make
the other tankers easier."
     "Apollo, switch back to Unicom" Sheba instructed.  "Trouble's coming
our way."
     "...Leader, this is Black Raptor Leader.  Two Raiders got past us
and they're heading your way at full speed.  They'll be on you before we
can catch up."
     "Understood, Raptor Leader," Apollo said.  "Thanks for the warning."
     "Apollo, let Boomer and me handle those Raiders," Starbuck said. 
"I've been dying to take one of these babies into combat."
     "It would be the logical next step for the tests," Boomer added.
     "You sure you can handle them?" Apollo asked.
     "We've only flown against Raiders in the simulators," Starbuck
admitted.  "But, there has to be a first time for everything, doesn't
there?"
     Apollo wasn't totally convinced.  Starbuck was far from an expert
pilot in the Raptor.  Under normal circumstances, Apollo would have
ordered Starbuck back to the Galactica.  But, these weren't normal
circumstances, and Starbuck wasn't a normal pilot.  The fleet needed the
fuel these tankers carried, and Starbuck was the best natural pilot in
the fleet.
     "Thirty microns to intercept," Sheba reported.
     "Alright Starbuck, those Raiders are yours," Apollo relented.  "But,
be careful.  Colonel Jodas won't be pleased if you damage his prototype."
     "Have you noticed, Boomer," said Starbuck, as he backed away to meet
the Cylon fighters, "How they're always worried about this stupid
prototype, and not our lovable personages? Why is that?"
     "Because of your reputation for coming home with ships all shot to
pogies," Boomer replied.  "Incoming Raiders are dead ahead."
     "I see them," Starbuck said.  "The one on the left's in the lead. 
We'll take him first."
     Just as Starbuck was ready to fire, the Raiders separated, the
leader going left, the other right.  Starbuck banked after the leader. 
Starbuck quickly restored the target lock and fired.
     The laser blots struck the Raider directly between the twin exhaust
vents.  Starbuck stared in frustration as the energy bolts dissipated.
     "Oh, frak," Starbuck exploded.  "Boomer, the laser generators are
still at one per cent power."
     Boomer furiously flipped switches and entered commands into the
computer.
     "Laser generators at full power," Boomer said.
     Starbuck fired again.  This time, the fleeing Raider erupted into an
expanding fireball.
     "That's one," Starbuck said, jubilantly.  "Where's the other one."
     "He's coming around behind us," Boomer replied.
     "Then Number Two is all yours, buddy."
     Boomer began working the controls for the rear lasers.  Raider Two
was coming in well above the Raptor.  Too high, in fact.  The servos
couldn't traverse high enough.
     "Starbuck, twenty degree dive, now," Boomer instructed.
     Starbuck pushed the stick forward and put the raptor into a dive. 
The maneuver easily brought the Raider into Boomer's targeting cone.  He
quickly fired Raider Two was destroyed without getting a shot off.
     "Nice work, Raptor Thirteen," Apollo said.  "Looks like your
modification passed their first combat trials."
     "Yeah, they went pretty well," Boomer admitted.  "Teamwork between
pilot and recon officer will be vital."
     "The Raptor crews have already developed some pretty fair teamwork,"
Starbuck pointed out.  "Have you guys disabled those last two tankers
yet?"
     "Yes, Starbuck, we've done our part," Sheba replied.  "We captured
all four tankers."
     "Nice work, people," Milesar said.  "We got all of the escorts and
there are no more Raiders incoming.  Call in the recovery teams, Apollo."
     "With pleasure, Raptor Leader," Apollo said.  "Galactica, this is
Blue Leader..."

                    Chapter 7

     A few centars later, Colonels Tigh and Jodas met with Commander
Adama in Adama's office to discuss their next move.
     "Well, obviously, we have to discover where that convoy came from,"
Tigh said.  "We'll need to sent a long-range patrol on the inverse course
of the convoy' course.  That would be one-seven nine.  Four Raptors
should be sufficient."
     "I agree, Tigh," Jodas said.  "I recommend that we send Black
Raptors Nine through Twelve."
     "Why those particular ships?" Adama asked.
     "Starbuck and Boomer weren't the only warriors who have put the past
three sectars to good use," Jodas said.  "Miri and Juni are computer
wizards.  They've redesigned the scanner packages for the Raptors.  They
now have a longer scanning range than a Cylon baseship."
     "How'd they manage that?" Tigh asked, amazed.
     "I've no idea," Jodas admitted.  "They tried to explain it all to
me, but all of that technical jargon was beyond me.  The lost me after
they said 'All we did was..."
     "How many Raptors have the new scanners?" Adama asked, chuckling.
     "Just Raptors Nine through Twelve."
     "They'll be able to scan whatever they find without being seen?"
     "They won't be seen unless they encounter a patrol, Commander.  Or a
Cylon base."
     "Very well," Adama said.  "Launch the patrol as soon as they're
ready."
     Jodas keyed the Unicom.
     "Core Command.  This is Colonel Jodas.  Launch the patrol."
     Thirty microns later, four Raptors launched from beta bay.  As they
banked onto their planned course, they flew past Adama's viewport.
     Adama gave Jodas an amused look.
     Jodas grinned back.
     "What can I say?" Jodas asked.  "I was sure you'd agree, so I had
Raptor Flights Five and Six on stand-by."
     "Alright, you two," Adama said, shaking his head.  "Get out, I have
work to do."
     Adama's two closest friends in the fleet left him to his paperwork.


     Far ahead of the Galactica's patrol lay an unnamed system, with twin
stars and seven planets.  While none were suitable for human habitation,
one race had established an outpost on the third planet.  A largely
barren world, the outpost had been constructed in a mountain valley near
the equator.  There, the inhabitants grew food crops sufficient to
support themselves, and even enough to export back to their home world.
     Then the Cylons came.
     The outpost fell after just a few days of fighting.  The Cylons
quickly turned the outpost into a forward supply base.
     The base commander was an IL-series Cylon who called himself Scar. 
Inwardly, Scar was the same as the other IL Cylons.  Outwardly, however,
Scar was very different.
     The facility where Scar was constructed was attacked by Colonial
forces mere moments after Scar was activated.  The attack left Scar with
a cracked cranial dome.  He opted not to have the superficial damage
repaired, instead preferring to it them as a reminder of his first
encounter with humans.
     Scar didn't possess the unique programming of Shadow or the
Imperious Leader.  Scar wasn't cunning or imaginative.  But, then, he
preferred it that way.  This way, one couldn't get into trouble.  The
Imperious Leader didn't always favor free thinking Cylons.
     Scar entered the communications room and surveyed the four
centurions on duty.
     "Has there been anything, Centurion?" he asked one of them.     
     "We have received no transmissions of any kind, from any source,"
was the reply.
     "Nothing from the home world?"
     "We have received no transmissions of any kind, from any source."
     Sometimes, Scar reflected, centurions could be so frustrating.
     "Very well," Scar said.  "Continue monitoring all frequencies."
     Not hearing from Shadow was not particularly concerning.  Scar was
fairly sure that the Colonials didn't know about this supply base.  So,
Shadow would maintain a communications blackout for security purposes. 
Or, the baseship's communications equipment may have been damaged during
a Colonial attack.  Again, nothing to worry about.  Still, it has been
three sectars.
     However, silence from the home world was something to worry about. 
Four sectars of silence made no sense what so ever.  Scar could think of
no logical reason for this prolonged silence.
     Now, even the tankers were a day overdue.  Again, this was not
something to be overly concerned with.  The automated tankers could only
receive transmitted instructions and the scheduled meeting with Shadow's
baseship was beyond the range of the Raiders' communications equipment.
     Each item alone was not significant.  But together...Scar wondered.
     "By your command."
     Scar turned and walked to a bronze-colored centurion.
     "Yes, centurion."
     "Our scanners have detected four small ships entering the system. 
They do not match any known configuration."
     "No known Cylon or Colonial configuration?" Scar asked.
     "Affirmative."
     "Continue to monitor the intruders, centurion," Scar said.  "Do not
launch      any fighters.  Order the ground batteries to hold their fire
unless the intruders open fire.  We have enough problems here on the
planet, without creating more in orbit."
     "By your command."
     Scar left the communications room and headed for the command center.
     "What else could possibly go wrong?" he wondered aloud.
     The Cylon invasion force hadn't succeeded in obliterating the
previous occupants of the planet six sectars ago.  And now the occupation
garrison was paying the price, with their circuits.     An unknown number
of beings had escaped into the mountains and were making a severe
nuisance of themselves.  Every foot patrol that went out was attacked and
had taken casualties.  The airfield had been hit numerous times and
twenty Raiders had been destroyed.  Scar now had only forty fighters
left, and ten of them were escorting the tankers.  His garrison was now
down in strength to two hundred centurions.

     The door chime sounded.
     Adama looked up gratefully from his paperwork.  He glanced at the
time piece sitting on his desk and was surprised to see that he had been
reading reports for six centars.
     "Enter," he called.
     The door opened and in walked Starbuck and Boomer.  Starbuck carried
a single sheet of paper.
     "Is that the fuel report, Lieutenant?" Adama asked.
     "It is, Commander," Starbuck said.  "All ships in the fleet have
half full fuel bunkers.  So, we have enough fuel for about two sectars
and eight empty fuel tankers."
     "Doctor Salik wants to convert one of the captured tankers to haul
water," added Boomer.  "We could extend our water supply by six sectars. 
And since there's lots of fresh water of Talon, the extra water supply
would be a great convenience."
     "I agree, Boomer," Adama replied.  "Pass the word to Salik to begin
whatever work he deems necessary to prepare a tanker to haul water.  The
Council has informed me that they would like the captured tankers renamed
after our home worlds.  As President of the Council of Twelve, I have
decided that the water ship will be named the Spirit of Kobol.  The other
three tankers will be named in memory of the three most populous
colonies, Caprica, Virgo and Sagitara."
     "Yes, Sir," Boomer and Starbuck responded, in unison.
     The intercom buzzer interrupted any further instructions to the
warriors.  Adama activated the channel.
     "Adama here."
     "Commander, Jodas here.  The recon patrol has just returned.  I
think we had better meet with you right away."
     "Understood, Colonel.  Bring the recon crews to my conference room."
     "Jodas out."
     Starbuck looked at his chronograph.
     "Six centars?" he said.  "What could they have found in that little
time?  I hope it's not another baseship."
     "Come on, Starbuck," Boomer chided.  "Why so pessimistic? Maybe it's
good news."
     "We'll find out soon enough," Adama said, standing up.  "Let's move
to the conference room and wait for Jodas and the recon patrol."
     The three men crossed the corridor from Adama's office into his
private conference room.  Sires Uri and Anton arrived microns later.
     "Can I do something for you, gentlemen?" Adama asked.
     "No, Commander," Uri said.  "We heard that the patrol had returned
sooner than anyone had expected.  We simply wanted to hear their report
for ourselves."
     "We won't interfere with your briefing, Adama," Anton said.
     "Very well," Adama said.  "I have no objections."
     The two members of the Council took seats at the rear of the
conference room.  Colonels Tigh and Jodas, along with the reconnaissance
crews, arrived a few microns later.
     "Take a seat, gentlemen," Adama said.  "I gather you found something
interesting."     
     "Yes, Sir," replied Ensign Ribos, as the others sat down.  He
entered a command into the conference table's computer to activate the
view screen.
     "What we found was a supply depot on the third planet.  The depot
has a single landing strip running parallel to these mountains.  Between
the mountains and the landing strip are eight massive fuel tanks.  And
tucked in beside the fuel tanks, we found these."
     Ribos entered another command into the computer.  A new image
appeared on the screen.  It was an overhead view of an all too familiar
object.
     "Cylon Raiders," Starbuck groaned.  "Frak, I knew it."
     "We counted thirty on the ground and holes in the parking pattern
for ten more."
     "Most likely the ones escorting the four tankers we jumped," Boomer
said.
     "We came to the same conclusion, Lieutenant," Ribos continued.  "Our
scans showed that the fuel tanks were all nearly full.  These twelve
warehouses are full, too."
     Ribos entered another command into the computer and a new image
appeared on the view screen.  This one showed a group of large ships.
     "Ten tankers of the same class as the others," Ribos said.  "Loaded
and parked in a neat group.  Just begging for a few laser bolts."
     "Commander, I think we should go after all that fuel," Jodas said. 
"Talon had no tylium, so we need to find some soon.  Here, it's already
refined for us."
     "You're proposing that we attack the supply depot?" Adama asked.
     "Yes, Sir," Jodas replied.  "If we're lucky, those warehouses might
hold some useful commodities that we could liberate from the tin cans. 
If we're very lucky, we might be able to surprise some of those Raiders
on the ground."
     "I agree, Adama," said Tigh.  "It's high time we stuck it to the
Cylons."
     "Yes, Tigh, I would like to hit the Cylons," Adama admitted.  "But,
first I must get the approval of the Council."
     "Leave the Council to us, Adama," Uri spoke up.  "You and your
senior officers concentrate on a plan of action.  Anton and I will see
that the rest of the Council supports whatever decision you make."
     "Uri, why this change of heart?" Adama asked.   "Usually, getting
the Council to agree with any military action is more difficult than the
action itself."
     "We held an informal meeting with the other members of the Council
this morning," Anton explained.  "They felt the same as we do.  The same
as you warriors do, in fact.  The Council is tired of putting up with
this Cylon felgercarb."
     "Very well, then," Adama said.  "We will attack the supply dept. 
Tigh, Jodas, prepare an attack plan and have it ready by the end of beta
watch, tomorrow.  Also, I think that it's time to unleash the Daggits. 
Contact Colonel Becke and tell him to get his men ready."
     "Yes, Sir," the two senior officers said, in unison.

     Tigh left the conference room and headed directly to the Bridge.  In
spite of himself, Tigh couldn't help but smile.  For only the second time
since the Destruction, the Galactica was about to go on the offensive. 
Omega and Rigel saw him enter the Bridge and found that his smile was
infectious.
     "I gather that the briefing went well, Colonel?" Omega asked.
     "Let's just say, for now, that we're going to be very busy for the
next few days," Tigh said.  "I need to speak with Colonel Becke.  Raise
the 'Pound' for me, will you?"
     The "Pound" was the nickname for a transport that Adama had ordered
transferred to Daggit troop about six sectars ago, as a training
facility.  Registered the Pisces, the freighter had large open spaces
that were perfect for training infantry.  Daggit troop's ninety-six
warriors and shuttle pilots were billeted four to a room.
     Omega's hand flew across his communications console.
     "I have Captain Cotto aboard the Pisces, Colonel," Omega said, a few
microns later.
     "Captain Cotto, this is Colonel Tigh.  I need to speak with Colonel
Becke."
     "He's on his way, Sir," Cotto replied.  "We were conducting a
training exercise."
     Captain Cotto was a powerfully built man, standing just under two
metrons tall.  A native of Centropolis, the capital of Cancera, Cotto had
been a classmate of Apollo at the Academy.  Early in his education, Cotto
had realized that he lacked the natural ability to be a Viper pilot.  He
did, however, go on to have a distinguished career in the Colonial
infantry.
     "This is important, Captain," Tigh said.  "I'll wait for the
Colonel."
     Tigh and Becke were old friends, having grown up in the same
residential complex on Caprica.  Becke was five yahrens older than Tigh,
so they were never in the same school together.  Still, their friendship
had endured for over one hundred yahrens.
     "Colonel Tigh, Colonel Becke here."
     Becke was built like a small land ram.  While not a tall man, Becke
was incredibly strong.  He had once carried two wounded warriors, at the
same time, nearly five thousand metrons to a mobile life station.  But,
what infuriated Tigh was that Becke didn't have a single gray hair.
     "Becke, old friend, it's good to see you again.  You're looking
well."
     "Tigh, you didn't call me just to tell me that, did you?"
     "No, I didn't, Colonel.  I called you to instruct you to get Daggit
troop ready for action."
     "Something interesting, I trust."
     "Come to the Galactica.  You, Jodas and I will discuss everything."

Chapter 8

     It had been some time since the Galactica's main briefing room had
been this crowded.  Five squadrons of Viper pilots, two squadrons of
Raptor crews and Colonel Becke's Daggit troop filled the chairs.  At the
front of the room were Adama, Tigh, Jodas and Becke, still going over
minor details.  Along the wall to the podium's left were Doctor Salik,
Cassiopeia, Tarnia and two other med-techs.  Along the opposite wall were
Doctor Wilker and eight of his computer specialists.  Along the rear wall
were Omega, Rigel and a few other Bridge officers.
     Colonel Jodas stepped to the podium.
     "Alright, boys and girls, let's have some quiet."
     While he waited for the assembled warriors to settle down, Jodas put
a photo on the overhead view screen.
     "Now then, tomorrow we are going to stick it to the tin cans by
hitting this supply base.  Incidentally, let's have a quick round of
applause for Raptor Flights Five and Six, who flew the recon patrol and
collected all of the data that this briefing is based upon."
     Jodas began the applause and the others quickly joined in.  The
ovation didn't cease until eight red-faced warriors rose and waved to
their fellow warriors.  They quickly sat back down.
     "Alright," Jodas said, "let's get to work before they get swelled
heads.  If you open your briefing folders, you'll find a map of this
facility.  Based upon the layout, Colonel Tigh and I are fairly certain
this is nothing more than a large supply dump.  And building the whole
base parallel to this mountain range was very clever for Tin Cans.  It
makes aerial assault very difficult.  Not impossible, just very
difficult.
     "All squadrons will be used, but not necessarily in ways you
anticipate.  Pay attention to what the others are doing, in case you need
to call for support.
     "Our target, for those of you who don't know, are these eight fuel
tanks situated between the mountains and the landing field.  The recon
patrol shows thirty Raiders at the field.  No other fighter bases were
detected, but this doesn't mean that they aren't there.  North of the
fuel tanks are parked ten tankers of the same type as the ones captured
two days ago.  Opposite the fuel tanks are twelve warehouses, which we'll
check out for anything we can use.  What we don't take, we'll destroy. 
Our third ground target will be this building."
     Jodas pointed to a structure well away from the airfield, designated
"B1" on the maps.
     "The scans show that this building is drawing a lot of power, so we
believe that this is their central computer center.  Tigh, Wilker and I
would love to get our hands on their computer core."
     Jodas paused, and took a long drink of water.
     "Phase One: Aerial Bombardment.  Red Squadron will lead our attack
by taking out these fighters, hopefully before any of them have the
chance to get airborne.  Make your runs about twenty-five metrons off the
deck.  You'll be harder targets for any ground batteries they might have. 
Once all six wings have made their runs, Red Squadron will return to
orbit and wait for the shuttles carrying the ground assault troops. 
Black Raptor Squadron will arrive one centon after Red Flight Six.  They
will handle any Cylon fighters that get airborne.  The Raptors will also
hit the buildings labeled 'B2', 'B3' and 'B4' on the maps.  Don't hit
'B1', we'd like the ground forces to get that computer core.  Black
Raptors, once you've made your runs, stay in the vicinity to engage
targets of opportunity and ground support.
     "Phase Two: Ground Assault.  If things have stayed on schedule, Red
Squadron will be escorting the troop shuttles in fifteen centons after
the first shot has been fired," Jodas continued.  "Daggit Troop and Blue,
Green and Silver Spar Squadrons now go to work.  Colonel Becke, your
prime goal is to secure the landing field and these fuel tanks.  Once
they are secure, you will then go after the warehouses.  Red Squadron,
during this time you will again return to orbit, and meet the first wave
of cargo shuttles.  When the airfield is secure, guide them in and fly
high cover until they are loaded, then escort them out and to the
Galactica.  After all of this, you'll be low on fuel, so land in Alpha
Bay for fuel and a stretch of your legs.  In the centar it takes to
refuel your fighters, the shuttles should be emptied and ready to go down
for another load.  With this second wave of shuttles, the larger
freighters will begin to land for larger loads.
     "Phase Three: The Computer core.  After the landing field is secure
and the loading is underway, one Land-ram and a group of warriors will
proceed to Building One and eliminate any opposition.  Doctor Wilker's
computer specialists will be aboard the second group of shuttles.  They
will remove the computer core, so don't you warriors touch it.
     "All available ships will continue to transfer cargo and fuel to the
fleet until we've taken everything we can use or Cylon reinforcements
arrive and force us away."
     "Phase Four: Time to Leave.  Daggit Troop and the Viper pilots will
be the last to leave the planet.  Before you go, set demolition charges
on all of the fuel tanks, whether full or empty.  Blow up what we leave
in the warehouses.  I don't want anything left of that base that's
useable."
     Jodas looked at Tigh.
     "That's all I have, Colonel," he said.
     Tigh stood up and walked to the podium.
     "The medical shuttle will go in with the second group of shuttles
and will remain on the ground for as long as it's needed.  Are there any
questions?"
     The commander of Yellow Squadron raised his hand.
     "Yes, Lieutenant Grindle?" Tigh asked.
     "Sir, Colonel Jodas said that all squadrons would have some role in
this little shoot-out.  But, he didn't mention what he wanted Yellow
Squadron to do."
     "I'm afraid that's my fault, Lieutenant," Tigh said.  "Given your
squadron's relative inexperience and other tactical considerations,
Yellow Squadron will be held in reserve."
     "Since the only mission we've trained for is aerial combat." Grindle
concluded.
     "That is Correct, Lieutenant."
     "Thank you for your honesty, Colonel."
     "Are there any more questions?" Tigh asked.
     "Colonel, I have a question," said Red Squadron's leader, raising
his hand.
     "Yes, Lieutenant Cree?" Tigh asked.
     "Sir, if Red Squadron manages to take out most of these fighters, do
we have permission to hit the buildings?"
     "You think you can take out thirty fighters in six passes of two
Vipers each?" Jodas asked, slightly amused.
     "I don't think we need to, Sir," Cree said.  "My squadron has spent
a lot of time in the simulators, going over various scenarios, trying to
keep fresh.  Our favorite simulation is attacking a Cylon ground base. 
Therefore, we've analyzed scans of every Cylon base we could lay our
hands on.  Our analysis suggests that Building Four could be a power
relay station."
     "What makes you say that?" Tigh demanded.
     "If you look at the overhead images, Sir, you can see these fine
lines going from Building Four to the other three," Cree explained. 
"There are no lines going from One to Three."
     "So, what do you think those lines are, Lieutenant?" Tigh asked,
half dreading the answer.
     "Power transmission lines, Colonel."
     Tigh and Jodas looked at each other, then back at Adama, who was
smiling.
     "We thought those lines were imperfections on the images, due to
atmospheric conditions," Tigh admitted.
     Noises of outrage emitted from Raptor Flights Five and Six.
     "Why wouldn't these transmission lines be underground, Lieutenant?"
Jodas asked, trying to ignore the recon patrol.
     "Colonel, the scans we found can be broken down into two groups,"
Cree explained.  "The six military bases all had buried power lines, but
the five supply bases all had above ground power grids."
     "So what do you suggest?" Jodas asked.
     "Once we eliminate half of the fighters, one Viper from the
remaining flights will attack Buildings Two, Three and Four, while the
others continue to pound the fighters.  If we succeed in knocking out
their power grid, they'll have no computers, no scanners and no
communications.  They'll be easier to wipe out."
     "Seems reasonable," Jodas said.  He turned to Adama and asked, "Any
objections, Commander?"
     "This is your mission, Colonel.  Do as you see fit."
     "Alright, Lieutenant Cree, once you've destroyed half of the
Raiders, hit the buildings."
     "Thank you, Colonel," Cree said.
     "So, Black Raptor, you get what's left standing, and any Raiders
that show up later.  Clear?"
     "Understood, Colonel," Milesar said.
     "Are there any more questions?" Tigh asked again.
     No one raised a hand.
     "Do you have anything to add, Commander?" Tigh asked.
     "Just a few minor things, Colonel," Adama said, as he rose and took
Tigh's position at the podium.  "First, I spoke with the captain of the
Celestra just before the briefing began.  When Red Flight One begins its
attack, the Celestra will leave the fleet and assume a high orbit over
the target.  From there, she should be able to spot any approaching Cylon
fighters long before either Red Squadron or Black Raptor Squadron could
pick them up on their scanners.
     "Second, for the first time since the Destruction of our home
worlds, the Galactica's water tanks are full, thanks to the abundance of
clean water on Talon.  Therefore, for the next two days, the rationing
imposed on the use of the turbowashes is lifted."
     Cheers rose from the assembled warriors.
     "Third, all personnel taking an active roll in this mission are
hereby confined to quarters until one centar prior to Red Squadron's
launch."
     There was a mild grumble from the warriors.
     "In your quarters," Adama continued, unperturbed, "you will find two
bottles of ale for each of you.  I order you all to relax and get plenty
of rest because tomorrow is going to be a long hard day.  You are all
dismissed."
     Adama, Tigh, Jodas and Becke left through the door at the front of
the briefing room.
     "I don't believe it," Athena said.  " A turbowash that lasts longer
than two centons.  I'm going to have two before bed and another one when
I wake up."
     "Hey, boss, need someone to scrub you back?" Backis asked.
     "You wish, Junior," Athena shot back, playfully punching his
shoulder.
     "One of these times, you're going to give in."
     "Dream on, Backis, dream on."

     
Chapter 9

     As Adama left his quarters the next morning, he nearly collided with
Sires Uri and Anton.
     "What brings you about so early?" Adama asked.
     "We came to wish you luck, Adama," Anton said.  "The Council is more
anxious about this mission that the warriors are, I expect."
     "Will I see you on the Bridge today?"
     "No, Adama," Uri said.  "The Council will monitor the mission form
the Council chamber.  Colonel Tigh briefed us enough about today's
activities that we shall be able to follow things and still stay out of
the way."
     "Very well, then," Adama shook hands with the two men.  "I'm sorry,
but I must get to the Bridge.  And I have an errand to attend to before I
get there."
     Uri held onto Adama's hand for a few microns longer.
     "Adama, my friend, I'm aware that virtually all of your extended
family will be in harm's way during this mission.  May the Lords of Kobol
be with them."
     Adama nodded and walked away.
     'Will wonders never cease?' Adama thought.

     All around Alpha landing bay, determined men and women rushed to
complete their appointed duties before the launch signal was given. 
Crash crews got ready to receive damaged Vipers and Raptors and to rescue
injured pilots.  Med-techs prepared for the casualties they hoped
wouldn't come but almost certainly would.  Refuel and repair teams laid
out their equipment in order that twelve Vipers could be turned around in
just one centar.
     But this time was different.  The looks of determination on their
faces weren't nearly are grim as they've been lately.  And with good
reason.  For just the second time since the Destruction, the Galactica
was about to mount an offensive.
     Red Squadron's Vipers sat in their launch cradles, nearly ready for
launch.  As the fuel hoses were disconnected, a Viper tech hopped into
the pilot's seat and started the engines.  After firing all three
engines, the technician set the throttles to a low idle and allowed the
engines to warm up, while he climbed clear of the cockpit and went to
other tasks.
     Near the launch cradles, Cree had Red Squadron's pilots gathered
together for some last-centon instructions.
     "Now, remember," Cree instructed, "once we launch, we observe strict
E.M. silence.  No active scanners.  Switch your scanners to 'Passive' and
lock on me.  Set your Unicom to 'Receive Only.'  Nobody transmits until I
report I've begun my attack run or we get a recall signal.  Clear?"
     The other pilots nodded their heads.
     "Good," Cree continued.  "Once a flight forms up, power down to
idle.  We'll let our momentum and the planet's gravity get us there. 
We'll also be a hot harder to scan.  Saves fuel, too."
     "Will fuel conservation be all that important, Lieutenant?" a young
warrior asked.
     "Yeah, Tarsus, it will," Cree admitted.  "Colonel Jodas and I worked
it out last night.  The current mission profile will put us on the deck
with only thirty centons worth of fuel left.  By coasting to the planet,
we'll gain another thirty centons of fuel.  If we have to engage any
fighters, we'll need that extra fuel."
     "Yes, Sir," Tarsus said.
     "Anymore questions?" Cree asked.
     No one spoke or raised a hand.
     "Alright then.  Remember, don't hit any of those fuel tanks. 
Colonel Jodas has promised the worst duty he can find to anyone who blows
one up."
     Red Squadron's pilots laughed.
     "Let's mount up and get ready," Cree said.
     As the pilots dispersed to their Vipers, one of the med-techs handed
each pilot two bottles of water.  Dehydration was always a problem on
long missions.
     "Lieutenant Cree," someone called over the din.
     Cree turned toward the voice and was surprised to see Commander
Adama walking toward him.
     "Commander, is something wrong?" Cree asked, anxiously.  "Has the
mission been scrubbed?"
     "No, Lieutenant, the mission hasn't been scrubbed," Adama said,
reassuringly.  "I found myself with a few centons free, so I came down
here to wish you 'Good luck'.  Apollo is a little busy or he'd be talking
to you."
     "Thank you, Sir, this means a lot to me," Cree replied.
     "Be careful, Cree," Adama said.  "We can't afford to lose anybody."
     "I understand, Sir."
     "Tell your pilots that the first round will be on the Council, when
you get back."
     "Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir."
     "Now," Adama said, extending his hand.  "It's time to go to work. 
Good luck."
     Cree took Adama's hand, held it for a few microns, and then silently
turned to his Viper.  He didn't trust himself to speak anymore.  All of
Cree's family had died during the Destruction, and the loneliness had
been unbearable at times.  Since being assigned to Red Squadron, Cree had
a sense of family again.  Only now, Cree was the leader and the others
looked to him for strength.
     While Cree climbed into his Viper, Adama left the landing bay,
pausing occasionally to shake a hand or to offer a word of encouragement.
     "Red Squadron, This is Red Leader, give me some status reports,"
Cree said on the squadron's private frequency, after he had put his
helmet on.
     "Red Two, all systems go." This was Shear, the squadron's executive
officer.
     "Red Three, standing by." Vissor.
     "Red Four, ready." Hale.
     "Red Five, ready." Starr.
     "Red Six, ready to launch." Astro.
     "Red Seven, Standing by." Atlas.
     "Red Eight, all systems ready." Oates.
     "Red Nine, waiting less than patiently." Horne.
     "Red Ten, standing by." Tarsus.
     "Red Eleven, ready." Teri.
     "Red Twelve, ready." Mak.
     "Very good," Cree said.  "Switch over to Unicom and wait for the
launch signal."  Cree set his communications system to the Unicom
frequency.  "Core Command, this is Red Leader," he said.  "All flights
ready for take-off."
     "Acknowledged, Red Leader," Rigel's voice came back.  "Please stand
by, launch clearance in five centons."

     "Black Raptor Squadron, fifteen centons to launch," Rigel's voice
boomed from the public address speakers.
     Athena was just completing the pre-flight check on her fighter. 
Backis was already in his sea in the rear cockpit, going over the ship's
on-board computers.
     "Everything check out, Backis?" Athena asked him.
     "My end is ready, Boss," he replied.  "Did you remember to check the
auxiliary fuel tank?"
     "Of course I did," Athena shot back, as she stepped under their
Raptor to inspect the drop tank's coupler and fuel line.  All were
secure.
     "Just checking, Boss," Backis grinned.
     "You know," Athena said, as she climbed into her seat, "you can be
replaced by a semi-retarded daggit."
     Backis thought for a moment.
     "Nope. Wouldn't work," he said, finally.
     "Why not?"
     "First, the helmet wouldn't fit over the poor daggit's little ears. 
Second, there's no place in these seats for a tail, and you know how
daggits love to wag their tails.  Third..."
     "Enough, Backis."
     "Third," he continued, "daggits don't have thumbs, so they couldn't
fire these new lasers."
     "Alright, I'm sorry," Athena said.  "I won't replace you."
     "And fourth, a daggit couldn't weave you a hat when you decide that
we have to crash on some miserable planet."
     "Are you finished?"
     "For now, boss."
     "Swell," Athena shook her head.
     Backis drank a mouthful of water from his bottle, then settled back
in his seat, a huge smile on his face.

     "Red Squadron, this is Core Command," Rigel's voice came over the
Unicom.  "One centon to launch."
     "Acknowledged, Core Command," Cree replied.  "You heard the lady,
Red Squadron, close 'em up."
     Twelve pilots flipped switches and their canopies closed and sealed. 
Each one checked their restraints for the last time and ran through the
final checklist for the third time.
     "Core Command, transferring control to Red Squadron," Rigel said,
after what seemed like an eternity.  "Launch when ready."
     Cree and Mak launched immediately.  As was planned, the other
flights would launch at one-centon intervals.  Once Cree and Mak had set
course for the planet, they powered down their engines and anything else
that might be detected by Cylon scanners.
     Seven centons after the first launch, Omega reported, "Red Flight
Six has gone dark, Commander.  Thirty-one centons until Flight One powers
up again."
     Jodas left his seat and walked to a small table, which had been up
at the rear of the Command Deck.  There, he poured four mugs of steaming
java from the urn.  He handed mugs to Adama, Tigh and Omega.
     "Now, comes the hard part," Jodas said, as he returned to his chair.
     "The hard part, Jodas?" Tigh asked.
     "The waiting, Tigh, the waiting."
     Adama nodded his head, but said nothing.

     Captain Milesar stood on the nose of his Raptor and surveyed his
squadron.  All of the ships had been fitted with the new rear-mounted
lasers and Milesar was eager to test them in combat for himself.  While
he trusted Boomer and Starbuck, Milesar wasn't so sure about the mental
patient, Copernicus, Wilker had working with him.  Milesar would feel a
whole lot better once he himself tested these lasers.
     "We're about ready, Captain," Rega said from his recon Officer's
seat.
     "Right you are," Milesar said, as he climbed into his seat.  "How
much time's left?"
     "We should be getting the one-centon warning shortly."
     Milesar quickly fastened his restraints.  Then he put his helmet on,
and set the communications system to the Black Raptor's private
frequency.
     "This is Black Raptor Leader to squadron," he said into the
microphone.  "Give me status reports, by the numbers, please."
     "Black Raptor Two, ready for launch." Athena and Backis.
     "Raptor Three, standing by."  Nagon and Fen.
     "Black Raptor Four, all systems go." Tarril and Tucino.
     "Black Raptor Five, ready for launch." Bella and Datal.
     "Raptor Six, standing by." Brie and Justi.
     "Number Seven, ready." Jarro and Leie.
     "Raptor Eight, standing by," Heste and Lars.
     "Black Raptor Nine, ready for launch."  Ribos and Mira.
     "Black Raptor Ten, all systems go." Mai and Juni.
     "Black Raptor Eleven, standing by." Rodin and Doer.
     "Raptor Twelve, ready to go." Chrassis and Aril.
     "Very good," Milesar said, "let's switch over to Unicom and wait for
the launch signal." He changed frequencies.  "Core Command, this is Black
Raptor Leader, Black Raptor Squadron is ready for launch and awaiting
your clearance."
     "Acknowledged, Raptor Leader," Rigel replied.  "Stand by, launch in
two centons."
     "Launch in two centons," Milesar repeated.  "Can you give me a
status report on Red Squadron?"
     "Red Flight One will power-up in seventeen centons."

     While the fighter squadrons made their preparations in Alpha landing
bay, the ground-assault troops got ready in Beta bay.  Daggit Troop's own
shuttle pilots would do the actual flying, freeing the Viper pilots to
take part in the ground operations.  
     All around the shuttles, warriors made their final equipment checks. 
Daggit Troop warriors were all armed with captured Cylon laser rifles, as
well as their laser pistols.  The Viper pilots each carried two pistols
and would attempt to capture laser rifles when the opportunity presented
itself.  Everybody carried a collection of small solonite hand mines. 
Colonel Becke's ground troops wore their gray battle uniforms, while the
Viper pilots wore their usual tan flight suits and brown jackets.
     "People, people, people," Becke called out.  "Gather around for a
few centons."
     The warriors quickly surrounded the colonel.
     "We need to start boarding the shuttles in the next few centons. 
Blue Squadron, divide yourselves up between Teams One and Two.  Silver
Spar will go with Teams Three and Four.  Green Squadron, you get Teams
Five and Six.  I don't know how experienced you Viper pilots are with
this kind of mission, so if you get into a situation you can't handle,
follow the Daggit's lead.  You all know our target priorities, so good
luck."
     "Ground troops, launch in ten centons," Omega's voice came over the
loud speakers.
     "You heard the man," Becke said.  "Let's get these shuttles loaded. 
Everybody grab something as you board."
     Without another word, pilots and infantrymen collected weapons and
boxes of solonite charges and lined up to board the shuttles.  Once an
infantry platoon and its assigned Viper pilots were ready, they quickly
boarded the shuttle.
     Starbuck and Boomer were the last to board their shuttle, since they
were to be the first to disembark.  Their first task upon reaching the
planet was to secure the airfield's control tower.  Once secured,
Colonial air controllers would co-ordinate the landing and take off of
the cargo ships.
     Starbuck set down the box of hand mines he had been carrying and sat
down on the box.  Boomer sat on a bench beside him.
     "I tell you, Boomer, it's been so long since I was able to wake up
and have a nice, long, luxuriantly hot turbowash, my muscles had almost
forgotten how good it felt," Starbuck said.
     "I know what you mean, buddy," Boomer replied.  "Lots of hot water
just seems to be able to wash your troubles away."
     Boomer drew the laser pistol strapped to his left hip and checked
the charge.  Satisfied, he holstered the weapon and drew the pistol on
his right hip.
     "Boomer, I doubt the charge has deteriorated much in the two centons
since you last checked your weapons."
     Boomer chuckled as he returned the weapon to its place.
     "Yeah, I know, Starbuck.  I guess I'm just nervous.  The last time
you and Apollo fought Cylons with laser pistols, you made me stay home. 
Remember?"
     "Are you ever going to let us forget that?" Apollo asked, sitting
down beside Boomer.  "You led all our fighters against that baseship,
while Starbuck and I boarded it to disable her scanners."
     "And you guys had all the fun," Boomer retorted.
     "You call that 'fun'?" Starbuck asked.  "We nearly get our astroms
shot off, first by the Cylons and then by the Galactica's own turbo
lasers.  And he says we had 'fun'."
     The shuttles doors hummed shut.
     "One centon to launch," Becke announced from the front of the
shuttle.

     
Chapter 10

     Cree stretched his arms out, or at least as much as a pilot could in
a sealed Viper cockpit.  He wondered if there was more room in a Raptor
cockpit.  Cree looked at the console's chronometer for what seemed like
the thousandth time.  There was still five centons until the scheduled
power-up.  So far, things had gone off as planned.  He had detected a
Cylon passive scan about fifteen centons ago, but nothing since.  Cree
wasn't worried about passive scans.  Passive scans would detect the
Vipers, but wouldn't differentiate a powered down Viper from space junk. 
Active scanners would be able to tell whether or not Cree shaved this
morning.
     Cree looked out the right side of his canopy, to where Mak's Viper
was coasting along.  Mak was working out the kinks, too.  Cree smiled. 
They were all used to long recon patrols, but having to sit there, and
not being able to talk to your wingman was much more difficult on the
mind.
     Once more, Cree checked his chronometer.  0813 centars.  Time to go
to work.  Cree began turning on his Viper's systems.  In less than a
centon, Cree's Viper was ready for battle.  He looked over at Mak.
     "You ready, Mak?" he asked.
     "All systems ready, Lieutenant."
     "Alright, then.  Turbos in three... two... one... now."
     The two Colonial fighters shot toward the planet.  They entered the
atmosphere twenty degrees latitude south of the base and dropped down to
fifty metrons off the surface.  Cree led Mak through a series of mountain
canyons toward the Cylon base.  The canyons were tight, but were not
difficult to navigate.  Three centons of challenging flying brought Red
Flight One clear of the canyons and onto the base.
     "I have the Raiders on my scanners, Red Leader," Mak said.  "They're
all still parked where the briefing said they'd be."
     "Then let's put holes in some of them, Red Twelve," Cree replied.
     The two Vipers began to strafe the line of neatly parked Cylon
Raiders.  The first three in line were destroyed in short order.  Several
other Raiders were damaged.  Spilled tylium fuel ignited and fires raged.
     "Let's get clear, Mak.  I still haven't seen any ground fire.  Have
you?" Cree asked.
     "Not yet," Mak reported.  "But they know we're here now.  The other
flights won't be as lucky."
     "Red Flight Two to Red Leader.  Thirty microns out."
     "Copy, Flight Two, remember to watch for ground batteries."
     "Understood, Red Leader."
     Cree and Mak aimed their Vipers for the sky and lit up their turbos. 
In a matter of microns, Red Flight One was back in orbit.  They flew past
the Celestra as she took up her station in high orbit.
     "Nice shooting, Red Flight One.  This is Celestra Control.  Our
scans show that you destroyed or damaged nine Raiders."
     "Thank you, Control.  We're clear," Cree responded.
     "Red Flight Two, commencing attack."
     Shear and Teri opened fire on the line of Cylon fighters.  More
Raiders exploded and Teri made short work of an ammunition transport.  On
their outbound climb, the ground batteries opened fire, but failed to
come close to Red Flight Two.
     "Control, this is Red Two," Shear called.  "We detected some ground
fire on our climb-out.  It wasn't accurate, but there was a lot of it.  I
scanned the locations.  Transmitting the data to you now."
     Shear pressed two buttons and downloaded the data to Celestra's main
computer.  From there, the information was relayed to all of the Vipers,
Raptors and shuttles.
     "Data has been relayed, Red Two," Celestra Control reported.  "Oh,
by the way, R.F. Two got seven fighters."
     "Red Leader, this is Red Three," Vissor said.  "That makes sixteen
Raiders damaged or destroyed.  Do we change targets."
     Cree had to stop and think about this.  In his wildest dreams, he
had never expected to get half of the Cylon fighters in just two passes. 
He decided to err of the side of caution.
     "Negative, Red Three," he said.  "I want you to hit the fighters as
planned.  They still haven't got any off the ground, and I want a few
more of them hit before they do.  Red Flight Four will begin the attacks
on the buildings."
     "Understood, Red Leader.  Commencing attack on the flight line."
     Vissor and Tarsus dove at the Cylon base, lasers blazing.  When they
cleared the mountains, six more Raiders and a transport carrying crews to
their fighters were ablaze.
     "Red Leader, this is Celestra Control.  Our scans show twenty-two
fighters damaged or destroyed.  Nice work."

     "Report, Centurion."
     "We have been attacked by three pairs of Colonial Vipers. 
Twenty-two Raiders are out of commission and fires are raging on the
flight line."
     "Activate the fire equipment."
     "By your command."
     "What do you see on long-range Scans?"
     "Scans show six more Vipers approaching.  They are follows by twelve
ships of the same configuration as those scanned one day ago, and six
Colonial shuttles."
     Scar looked at the centurion, disgust coursing through his
electronic brain.
     "And what do you suppose all this means?" he asked.
     "This is a coordinated attack," the centurion concluded.
     'Sometimes, centurions just don't have a clue,' Scar thought.
     "No, Centurion," Scar said, sadly.  "This means that we are about to
get the pogies knocked out of us."

     "Horne, you strafe the Raiders, I'll take the buildings," Cree heard
Hale instruct his wingman.
     "I copy, Red Four."
     "Remember, Red Four, leave Building One alone."
     "Understood, Red Leader."
     As Red Flight Four began their dive, Horne dropped behind Hale and
drifted to his left to get into position to attack the Cylon fighters. 
On cue, Hale and Horne open fire.  Horne managed to hit two more Raiders
through the billowing smoke.  Hale was fifty metrons to Horne's right and
was perfectly lined up to hit the buildings.  He locked onto Building
Four and fired.  His first two volleys collapsed the roof.  Flames shot
high into the pre-dawn sky.  Almost instantly, all lights in the base
winked out and the ground batteries went silent.
     "All craft scan for enemy fighters," Cree instructed.  "Commence
electronic and visual searches.  I don't want any surprises."
     "Red Leader, Celestra Control.  All scans are negative.  There are
no inbound Raiders."
     "Then I guess that building must have been important," Cree
observed.
     "Red Leader was right," Shear replied.  "That must have been the
base's power relay station."
     "Red Flight Five commencing attack."
     Starr and Oates lined up on their assigned targets and fired.  Oates
easily damaged two grounded Raiders.  Starr had lined up on Building Two
and his rounds tore through the structure's roof.  Massive explosions
within collapsed the roof and walls.
     "What the frak?" Starr exploded.  "There is no way Cylon
construction could be destroyed with just six laser bolts.  Cree,
something stinks here."
     "I hear you, Red Five," Cree responded.  "Everybody, keep your eyes
open."
     "Red Flight Six, beginning our attack run.  All that's left for us
is Building Three and a few fighters."
     "Red Six, Celestra Control.  By our scans, there are four Raiders
still unaccounted for, and they're beginning to roll."
     "I see them, Control," Atlas said.  "I can't believe that those
pilots can see well enough in that mess to get off the ground."
     "So see that they don't," Astro chided him.
     The twin brothers dove at the base.  While Astro razed Building
Three, Atlas strafed the four Raiders attempting to launch.  Two erupted
into satisfying fireballs, while the other pair got off the ground and
immediately began firing their turbo lasers.
     "Red Leader, Red Seven," Astro called.  Two Raiders got off.  Do we
engage?"
     "Negative, Red Seven," Cree replied.  "We shouldn't have to do all
the work.  Black Raptor Leader, do you copy?"
     "This is Black Leader.  Go ahead Red Leader."
     "Two fighters managed to launch," Cree said.  "Can you handle them,
or do you need some of my people as backup?"
     Milesar exploded with curses and epithets in at least three
languages.  Suddenly, the Unicom was overpowered with static.  It took
three centons for the frequency to clear.
     "No, Red Leader," Milesar said, with forced calmness.  "We can
handle them.  Raptor Flight Six, take out those Raiders.  The rest of us
will fly high cover."
     "Raptor Six acknowledges," said Brie.  "We have them on our
scanners."
     The two Raptors, flown by Brie and her wingman, Jarro, broke
formation and changed course in pursuit of the Cylon fighters.
     "Stay on this heading for one more centon, then come right forty
degrees for two centons, forty microns, then come right again forty
degrees, and we should be right behind them," instructed Justi.
     While Brie and Jarro followed Justi's course corrections, Leie
monitored the approaching Raiders.  Their course never wavered.
     "They have to know that they can't get away clean," she said.  So,
why aren't they taking some type of evasive maneuvers?"
     "At this time, I don't really care," Jarro replied, as he made the
final turn.  "I have them on my targeting computer."
     "So do I," Brie said.  "Use lasers, Jarro.  Save your missiles, in
case something nasty comes our way."
     "Understood, Brie," Jarro replied.  "I'm locked on the leader."
     "Then, they're yours," Brie said, as she dropped back to cover her
wingman.
     Jarro squeezed his control stick's trigger and let loose three pairs
of turbo laser energy bolts.  The first pair missed the retreating lead
Raider high.  The second pair punched through the rear view port and
vaporized the Cylon flight crew.  The final pair struck below the view
port and tore open the fuel cells.  The ensuing explosion obliterated the
lead Raider, and sent large pieces of debris into the second fighter,
causing it to spin out of control, back down to the planet's surface. 
This final Cylon fighter's flight ended in a small ball of fire some ten
kilometrons south of the base.
     "What a shot," Leie enthused.  "I've never seen anything remotely
like that before."
     "And you probably won't see anything like that again," Justi
scoffed.  "That has to be the luckiest shot in history."
     "What do you mean 'luck'?" Jarro asked, somewhat hurt.  "That was
pure skill.  I had that shot planned like that from the outset."
     "Then stop patting yourself on the back and get up here," Milesar
ordered.  "More fighters could still show up from someplace else."
     "We here you, Captain," Brie replied, as she and Jarro began a slow,
climbing turn that would allow them to meet back up with the rest of
their squadron.
     "Red Leader, this is Raptor Seven.  Two Cylon fighters have gone
bye-bye," Jarro reported.  "No damage to Raptor Flight Six."
     Milesar shook his head in amusement.
     "Totally unrepentant," he said over his ship's closed intercom.
     "Didn't you once tell me that all good pilots have to have a big
ego?" Rega asked.
     "I must have said that just to make myself look good," Milesar
scoffed.
     "Whatever you say, Boss," Rega chuckled.
     Milesar looked at his chronometer as he returned to the Unicom
frequency.
     "Spread out, and maintain high cover," he instructed.  "The infantry
shuttles are due in fifteen centons."

Chapter 11

     "Colonel Becke, this is Red Leader.  Your escort is here.  I hope
you didn't get lonely waiting for us."
     "No, Lieutenant, we didn't get lonely," Becke responded.  "But, my
heart can be restarted now."
     "Not to worry, Colonel.  Celestra Control says that they can account
for all of the Raiders and the ground batteries have been silent for
better than five centons."
     "Lieutenant Cree, I joined the infantry because I hate to fly in
atmospheres," Becke explained, testily.  "How long until we land?"
     "About fifteen centons," Cree answered.
     Becke terminated the transmission and looked at Captain Cotto, who
was trying unsuccessfully to conceal a huge grin.  Becke looked out the
forward view port again.
     Becke and Cotto had known each other for about twenty-five yahrens. 
They had fought the Cylons countless times together.  It galled Becke
that they were the only infantrymen to survive Carillon.  But, at least,
the Council had given them a mandate to rebuild one troop.
     That rebuild turned out to be a much slower process than anyone had
anticipated.  It had taken an entire yarhen to recruit and train just one
hundred warriors and twelve shuttle pilots.  It seemed that every male
graduate (women were not permitted in the infantry) wanted to be a
fighter pilot.  The new Raptors had only made things worse.  All of
Becke's Daggits were green as grass.  Not a single one had ever fired a
laser in anger.  Still, Becke and Cotto had trained them as hard as they
possibly could; specifically to attack ground installations.
     "Touch down in one centon, Colonel."
     Becke blinked his eyes and looked at the pilot, Owen.
     "Sorry, son.  I was just thinking.  What did you say?"
     "Touch down in one centon, Colonel," Owen repeated.  "Well, now
about seventy-five microns, Sir."
     "Alright, men, let's get set," Becke called out.  "We're about to
touch down.  You know your assignments.  Good luck and be careful."
     Since Starbuck and Boomer were to be the first off the shuttle, they
donned their packs and drew their left lasers.  They put their right
hands on their restraint releases.  They looked at each other and nodded. 
They were ready.
     AS soon as the shuttle touched down, they released their restraints
and headed for the hatch.  Starbuck reached for the hatch release while
Boomer drew his second pistol.  The instant the shuttle stopped moving
Starbuck opened the hatch and leapt out.  Boomer was on his heels.
     The two warriors stood back to back and surveyed the area.  Most of
the fires had been extinguished by the automated systems.  Behind them,
the Daggits were already unloading the land ram and the other equipment. 
So far, the Cylon defenders had not made an appearance.
     Starbuck looked up and saw that the other infantry shuttles were on
final approach.
     "Let's go, buddy," Boomer said.
     The two headed for the control tower at the north end of the
airfield.  They were less than half way when the first Cylons rounded the
corner of one of the warehouses.  Starbuck and Boomer sought cover behind
a burned-out ammunition transport.
     "So much for a nice quiet day," Boomer quipped.
     Starbuck looked around the transport at the advancing Cylons.  He
saw a phalanx of eight Cylon centurions, marching in a tight formation. 
None had a weapon raised.
     Starbuck opened his pack and removed one of his hand mines.
     "Boomer, cover me."
     "What are you going to do, Starbuck?" Boomer asked.
     "Maybe one of these babies will cut down the odds a little,"
Starbuck replied.  He stood up and got ready to throw the small
explosive.
     Boomer shook his head, but stood up and looked at the oncoming
Cylons.  They still hadn't raised their weapons.  Starbuck activated the
hand mine and nodded.
     "Alright, then," Boomer said.  "On three.  One...two...three..."
     Boomer stepped out on the left side of the transport, firing his
lasers.  He didn't take time to aim because his task was to draw the
Cylons' attention long enough for Starbuck to throw his hand mine. 
Starbuck ran around the right side of their cover, threw the hand mine
and dove back.  Boomer was there a split-micron later.  They looked over
the transport to locate the explosive.
     Against all odds, the explosive's magnetic backing plate had adhered
to the head of one of the Cylon soldiers.  Starbuck and Boomer were
exchanging surprised glances when the hand mine exploded.  They looked
back and couldn't believe their eyes.  The explosion had decapitated all
eight centurions.
     "The other day, didn't you say something about your luck going sour
lately?" Boomer asked.  "I've never seen anything as lucky as that."
     Starbuck stood in silence, looking at the eight Cylon bodies,
smoking from their necks, his mouth half open.  Boomer reached over and
pushed Starbuck's bottom jaw closed.
     "C'mon, buddy, let's get to the control tower."
     The two warriors continued on to their target.

     Daggit troop had their six land rams unloaded in fewer than five
centons.  The infantrymen and Viper pilots spread out and quickly secured
the south end of the airfield.  There was still no sign of the Cylon
defenders.
     "Something's strange here, Apollo," Cotto said.
     "I know," Apollo agreed.  "Centurions should be swarming onto the
field."
     "Let's take advantage of the quiet, gentlemen," Colonel Becke said. 
"Begin loading the fuel onto our shuttles."
     "Right away, Colonel," Cotto replied.
     "Colonel, should my pilots begin searching the warehouses?" Apollo
asked.
     Becke paused and thought for a moment.
     "Not yet, Captain," he answered.  "Let's wait a few centons to see
if the tin cans decide to make an appearance.  Wait until Starbuck and
Boomer come back from securing the control tower."

     Starbuck and Boomer reached the base of the control tower with no
further incident.  They slowly circled the building to the door.  Boomer
led the way inside.  There were no guards I sight.  They exchanged a
confused glance, but headed up the stairs to the control deck with
extreme caution, Starbuck in the lead.
     They quickly reached the top level, still unchallenged.  Starbuck
stole a look onto the control deck.  He saw three centurions, all still
at their stations.  Starbuck looked back at Boomer, and held up three
fingers.  He pointed to the left of the deck, held up one finger and
pointed to Boomer.  Then Starbuck pointed to the right, held up two
fingers and pointed to himself.  Boomer nodded agreement.
     Starbuck burst onto the control deck, firing his lasers, Boomer
right behind him.  Starbuck hit both of his targets square in the backs,
Boomer got his in the chest.  All three went down and didn't get up
again.
     "What the frak is going on here?" Starbuck wondered.  "These
centurions didn't even leave their posts.  Surely these guys know that
we're here by now."
     "Yeah, buddy, it doesn't make any sense," agreed Boomer.
     "Yeah, well, let's get busy."
     While Boomer checked out the equipment, Starbuck searched the
control deck.
     "Nothing," Starbuck reported.  "No weapons at all."
     "I think this communications and scanning equipment still works,"
Boomer said.
     "You think it still works?"
     "Well, it's kinda hard to tell when there's no power to it."
     "Of all the felgercarb.." Starbuck ranted.  He kicked the corner of
one of the consoles.
     The consoles suddenly came back to life.  Boomer couldn't help but
laugh at the look on Starbuck's face.  Boomer checked the equipment
again.
     "Guess what? It works," Boomer said, chuckling.  "That kick did the
trick."
     "And I thought it was the portable energizer that we installed down
below," a male voice said from the stairwell.
     Starbuck and Boomer spun around, weapons drawn.  Two warriors
entered the deck.
     "Dent and Guido," Starbuck said, holstering his weapons. 
"Surprising us is a real good way to get dead."
     "You mean just because you can't shoot Cylons, you'd shoot at us?"
Guido asked, sweetly.
     "So, you noticed the lack of defense, too, huh?" Starbuck asked. 
"Even the baseship Apollo and I boarded had guards posted."
     "I think we'd best report this to the big shots," Boomer said, as he
worked the Cylon communications gear.

     "No guards, Lieutenant?" Adama asked.
     "Affirmative, Commander," Boomer replied.  "In fact, I've only seen
eleven Cylons, and none of them even fired a shot at us."
     "Incredible," Adama said.  "Do you have anything else to report?"
     "Dent and Guido are here and ready to co-ordinate our traffic."
Boomer replied.  "Starbuck and I are about to return to Blue Squadron."
     "Very well, Boomer.  Continue with your mission."
     "Boomer out."
     "No guards," mused Tigh.  "There has to be a logical explanation for
this."
     "Could hunting for us finally be depleting the Cylon ranks?" Omega
wondered out loud.
     "We should have cut severely into their ranks long before now,"
Jodas replied.  "Since we left home, the Pegasus and the Galactica have
destroyed at least five baseships.  Surely they can't replace them that
fast."
     "Then this base must be under staffed," Adama concluded.   "I
wonder..."
     "Commander?" Tigh asked, looking up from Omega's console.
     But, Adama didn't hear him.  His thoughts were far away.

     Several laser bolts struck the armor plating if the land ram near
where Becke and Cotto were standing.  Fortunately, no one was hurt. 
Warriors and Daggits dove for cover while the laser turret operators
brought their weapons to bear.  Twenty centurions marched onto the
airfield from between Warehouses Nine and Eleven, weapons firing.  The
six turret-mounted lasers quickly obliterated the defenders.
     "Did you notice how disorganized they were, Colonel?" Captain Cotto
asked.
     "I did, Captain," Becke replied.  "The central computer core must be
down.  If it is, then this day just got a whole lot easier."
     Starbuck and Boomer jogged up.
     "The control tower is secure, Colonel," Boomer reported.  "Ensigns
Dent and Guido are on the control deck and have the scammers and
communications equipment up and running."
     "Daggit One, this is Control Deck," Dent's voice came over the
Unicom.  "This is a communications test."
     "This is Daggit One," Becke replied.  "I read you load and clear."
     "We're ready to co-ordinate our ships, Colonel.  The first wave of
fuel shuttles are five centons out."
     "Understood, Control Deck.  Bring them in."
     "Control Deck out."
     For the rest of the mission, the Control Deck would guide the
incoming ships and shuttles on the Beta frequency, leaving the Unicom
free for the ground troops.
     "Colonel?" Apollo asked.
     Becke chuckled, shaking his head.
     "Alright, Captain, it's time to start checking the warehouses. 
We'll keep Teams Five and Six and Green Squadron here on the field, just
in case.  We'll check out Warehouses Eight, Ten, Eleven and Twelve
first."
     "Teams One through Four," Captain Cotto called.  "Mount up, into the
land rams."
     "Blue and Silver Spar Squadrons," Apollo called to his warriors, "go
with your assigned teams."
     When a land ram was loaded, it departed for its assigned warehouse. 
Team One along with Flights One, Two and Three of Blue Squadron were to
inspect Warehouse Eight.
     Blue Squadron disembarked the land ram first and deployed on either
side of the main door.  Giles checked the door and found that is was not
locked.  He looked back at Captain Cotto, who nodded.  Giles pushed the
door open and stepped back.  The twelve Daggit troopers were the first
into the darkened warehouse, followed by Blue Squadron.
     The Daggits and pilots spread through the stacks of crates and
pallets, hand torches mounted on their laser rifles lighting the way, in
search of their Cylon adversaries.  Shortly, group after group of
troopers and warriors returned to the entrance, totally baffled.
     "Nothing, sirs," a trooper said, removing his helmet.  "There's no
sign of any Cylon in the entire warehouse.  I don't understand it."
     "Neither do I, Lieutenant Artes," Cotto replied.  "Establish a
perimeter around this warehouse.  Captain Apollo and his pilots will
search the crates for anything useful."
     "Yes, Sir," Artes replied.  He turned to the other Daggits.  "You
heard the Captain, everybody outside."
     As the Daggits filed out to secure their perimeter, Apollo and his
pilots holstered their weapons.
     "Cotto, have you noticed that the writing on these crates aren't
with the Cylon characters?" Apollo asked.  "It looks like Hatari to me."
     "Yeah, but I don't read Hatari," Cotto said.  "Do you?"
     "Not a word," Apollo admitted.
     "Well, if nobody can read what's in the crate, let's open the
fraking thing," Starbuck said, pulling a combat knife from the top of his
left boot.
     Starbuck slit the seal on the crate then opened the latches.  He
flipped open the lid and dropped his knife.  Boomer looked into the
crate.  Silently, he reached in and pulled out a handful of the contents.
     "Java beans," Boomer said, stunned.  "What the pogies would Cylons
be doing with java beans?"
     "This day just keeps getting stranger," Cotto said, reaching into
the crate.  He took a handful of the beans and sniffed them.  "These
beans are still fairly fresh."
     "Starbuck, open another crate," Apollo instructed.
     Obediently, Starbuck picked up his knife and began work on a second
crate.  This time, he kept his ears tuned as he broke the seal.  He heard
air enter the opening.
     "Vacuum sealed," Starbuck noted.  "Whatever's in here is still
fresh, too."
     Starbuck finished opening the crate.  This one was filled with
packages of dehydrated meat.
     "This is weird," Apollo said.  "We've got to report this."

Chapter 12

     "You found what?" Adama asked, incredulously.
     Apollo's voice came back over the Unicom.
     "Warehouse Eight is filled to the roof with crates marked with
Hatari characters.  We've already called Doctor Salik to come and
translate.  We've open two crates and they both contained human foods. 
Captain Apollo out."
     "Where could that food have come from?" Tigh asked.
     "Perhaps the tin cans were using it as bait for a trap," Jodas
pointed out.

     "What's all this felgercarb about the Cylons hoarding food?" a voice
boomed from the warehouse door.  Starbuck and Boomer looked at Apollo and
smiled.  Salik certainly knew how to make a memorable entrance.
     "All of these crates have what we think is Hatari characters written
on them," Apollo explained, suppressing a grin.  "We opened two of them. 
One contained java beans, the other one had dehydrated meat."
     "Really," Salik said, crossing his arms across his chest.  "Well,
let's see what you've found here."  He walked up to the two open crates
and looked at the contents, then at the writing on the sides.  "This is
definitely Hatari writing.  According to the labels, these crates contain
java beans, dehydrated meat, fruits and vegetables.  Lords, there's even
crates of fumarellos here."
     "That's terrific," Starbuck said.  "That means the end of food
rationing."
     "Not so fast, Lieutenant," Salik cautioned.  "Remember what happened
on our home worlds.  The Cylons poisoned our food during their final
invasion.  Before we waste time moving this stuff, we need to verify that
it's not be poisoned.  We need a molecular analyzer from the Galactica's
Life Station."
     "Why didn't you bring one with you, Doctor?" Cotto asked.
     "We came here to do battle with Cylons, Captain," Salik explained. 
"I loaded the medical shuttle expecting to treat laser burns, not examine
crates of food for pluton poisoning."  He put his hand to his headset and
turned the unit on.  "Galactica, this is Doctor Salik.  I have a priority
request..."

     "I understand, Doctor," Adama said.  "I'll have the analyzer on the
next shuttle.  It's scheduled to leave the Galactica in just over two
centars."
     "We shouldn't wait that long, Adama," Salik said.  "If this
warehouse is full of food, and it's safe, then emptying this warehouse
must take top priority."
     "The molecular analyzer could be loaded onto one of Yellow
Squadron's Vipers," Tigh pointed out.  "Salik could have them in about
twenty centons."

     "I understand, Colonel," Maggie said.  "I'll take care of
everything, Sir."
     "Will you need any assistance taking the equipment down to Beta
bay?"
     "No, Colonel.  I have a cart down here."
     "Very well.  Yellow Leader is waiting for you."
     "Life Station, out."
     Maggie looked around the Life Station for a micron.  Although Maggie
had been a med-tech for less than a yarhen, she was the only one on duty
today.  Fortunately, there were no patients confined to the Life Station. 
With no one here, Maggie wasn't worried about leaving the Life Station
deserted for a few centons, but she prayed that no one would need her
assistance in her absence.
     Quickly, she maneuvered the four-wheeled cart into the storage room. 
The eight molecular analyzers were on the first set of shelves, to the
left of the door.  The analyzers were packed individually in padded
cases, about twice the size of a human head.  Analyzer and case weighed
approximately twenty kilos.  Maggie loaded four of the units on her cart
then left the Life Station as quickly as she dared.
     "One side, medical emergency," she yelled at four crewmen, who were
walking along the corridor, nearly blocking the way.  Instantly, they
pressed their back against the wall and allowed Maggie and her cargo
past.
     As she rounded the last corner to the lift, she saw two members of
Council Security board the lift.
     "Hold it, gentlemen," Maggie called. "I need that lift."
     "We know, Med-tech," the taller of the two replied.  "Colonel Tigh
sent us to secure the lift and give you top priority."
     "Two Viper technicians are waiting in Beta bay to help load these
units onto the Vipers," the other one said.
     The lift descended to the launch bay the instant Maggie and her cart
were aboard.
     "I'm Jak, by the way.  And this is Willy," the taller Security guard
said.  "Why are you sending four analyzers down there?  Wouldn't one be
enough?"
     "With four molecular analyzers, Doctor Salik can check the food
faster and get more loaded before the Cylons show up," Maggie replied. 
"Oh, excuse me.  My name is Maggie, and thanks for your help."
     The lift stopped in Beta bay.  Two Viper technicians, Jessie and
Walker, were waiting, ready to assist.
     "I'm sorry, Security men, but duty calls," Maggie apologized, as she
pushed the cart off the lift.
     "Yellow Squadron's launch cradles are down this way," Walker said. 
"We'll help you load the cargo."
     "Thanks, guy."
     The three quickly guided the loaded cart down the line launch
cradles to where Yellow Squadron's Vipers rested.  Walker and Jessie
already had the cargo hatches open on the Vipers of Yellow Flight one. 
Lieutenant Grindle and Flight Sergeant Ibert were strapped into their
cockpits, their engines powered up and ready to go.  Walker and Jessie
quickly loaded two of the analyzers into each of the Vipers.  The
Viper-techs closed the hatches and slapped the side of the Viper twice.
     "Core Command, this is Yellow Leader," Grindle said, into his helmet
microphone.  "Our cargo is loaded and Yellow Flight One is standing by. 
Rigel, love, sign that sweet song of yours."

     "Core Command, transferring control to Yellow Flight One," Rigel
said, a huge grin on her face, and a touch of red in her cheeks.  "Launch
when ready."
     Colonel Tigh frowned at the back of her head.
     "I see that a discussion of discipline in the ranks is in order," he
said, shaking his head.
     "Let them be, Tigh," Adama told him.  "It's been far too long since
we've had a day such as this.  Let them blow off some stream."

     Yellow Flight One launched immediately and set course for the
planet.  Since they no longer had to concern themselves with stealth,
Grindle and Ibert used their turbos all the way to planetary orbit.
     "Yellow Leader to Control Deck," Grindle said into his microphone. 
"Request landing clearance."
     "Yellow Leader, this is the Control Deck.  We're ready for you. 
Come in from the south.  Ground fire has been terminated."
     "Control Deck, Yellow Leader understands."
     Yellow Flight One eased back on their throttles, pushed the control
sticks forward and dropped out of orbit.  Three centons later, the two
Vipers touched down at the airfield.  Members of Green Squadron guided
them onto a vacant parking apron.  While the pilots from Green Squadron
open the cargo hatches, Grindle and Ibert popped open their canopies.
     "Xavier, Lander," Grindle called out as he removed his helmet.  "How
are things going down here?"
     "Keep your seat, Lieutenant," Ensign Xavier told him.  "Colonel
Becke doesn't want you staying on the ground any longer than necessary. 
So, as soon as we unload these analyzers and load up a couple cases of
laser rifles, you guys are to return to the Galactica."
     "Hey, Lieutenant, when did we transfer to a cargo unit?" Ibert
asked.
     "No idea, Sergeant," Grindle replied.  "The first time we get to fly
in a combat zone and it's as transport pilots.  Where's the fun in that,
I ask you?"
     "Those are Colonel Becke's orders," Lander explained.  "No available
cargo spaces leaves empty."
     "Be glad you guys aren't loading all of this stuff," Xavier griped. 
"The first wave of twelve refueling shuttles are already headed back to
the fleet, and the ten tankers that were here are crewed and ready to
take off."
     Lieutenant Pack and Sergeant Forde drove up in a captured Cylon
troop transport.
     "What are you two doing with that?" Grindle asked.
     "Well, I don't think the Cylon we took this from will need it
anymore," Pack said.  "The Daggits made short work of the crew, so we
liberated their transport.  Why walk when you can ride?"
     Forde jumped off and helped Lander load the molecular analyzers onto
the rear deck of the transport.  Forde got back aboard the transport and,
with a wave, Forde and Pack were off.
     While Grindle replaced his helmet, Xavier and Lander sealed the
cargo hatches back up.  The Viper pilots closed their canopies and
restarted their engines.
     "Yellow Flight One, Control Deck.  Taxi to the north end of the
runway, then take off heading south.  Finally, circle the field until the
ten captured tankers take off.  You will lead them back to the fleet."
     "Control Deck, Yellow Leader acknowledges."
     The two Viper pilots nudged their throttles forward and eased their
ships out of the parking area.  Carefully, they made their way to the
north end of the runway.  Already, the tankers were lining up for their
turns to launch.  Upon reaching the end of the runway, the Vipers swung
around and pointed their noses south.
     "Yellow Flight One ready to take off and standing by."
     "Yellow Leader, you're cleared to take off.  You and those tankers
are occupying valuable parking spaces."
     The Viper pilots lit up their turbos and began rolling down the
runway.  Halfway down the runway, Grindle and Ibert pulled back on their
control stick and lifted off.
     "Control Deck, Yellow Leader," Grindle reported.  "We are clear of
the field.  Start launching the tankers."
     "The first one is already rolling, Yellow Leader."

     Xavier and Lander watched as the first of the tankers took off.
     "That's a lot of fuel heading home," Lander commented.
     "Yeah," Xavier agreed.  "And the work's not done yet."
     "Green Eleven, Control Deck."
     "Go ahead, Control Deck," Xavier said into his microphone.
     "As soon as all of the tankers have launched, the Pride of Caprica
will land."
     "Holy frak," Lander said, softly.  "The commander's not fooling
around, is he?"
     The Pride series of freighters were twelve of the largest
non-military ships ever built in the colonies.  One Pride freighter could
carry enough food to supply the fleet for sectons.  They were virtually
brand new, the oldest being just ten yahrens old at the time of the
Destruction.  The freighters were designed to travel unescorted and were
nearly as fast as a battlestar.  All twelve Prides had been part of a
convoy enroute from the Sagaa system, a nearby ally, with munitions when
the Cylons had launched their final attack on the colonies.  A Cylon
baseship had ambushed the convoy, destroying all the other ships, but the
speedy Prides had simply outrun the Cylons.  Commander Dix, master of the
Pride of Scorpio, led the twelve freighters to link up with the fleet
about three sectons after their flight from Carillon. 
     The Prides would be doubly useful today.  They were the only ships
in the fleet capable of vertical take-offs and landings.
     Colonel Becke strode up to Xavier and Lander.
     "Ensigns, when she's ready, begin loading the Pride of Caprica with
the cleared food," Becke instructed.  "We'll load the ammo on the
shuttles and the smaller freighters."
     "Is there a lot of food in there, Colonel?" Lander asked.
     "You could say that, son," Becke said, smiling.  "Our calculations
say that it will take four of the Pride freighters or one hundred
shuttles to empty one warehouse.  And seven of the twelve warehouses are
stuffed with food."
     "By the Lords," Xavier said, softly.
     "Green Eleven, Control Deck.  The last captured tanker is clear. 
Stand by for the Pride of Caprica."
     "Green Eleven, standing by."
     Suddenly, the air was ripped by the sound of mammoth repulsor
rockets.  The three men looked up and saw the one thousand metron long
Pride of Caprica begin her slow descent.  Smoke and clouds of dust
billowed from under the massive ship.  In spite of her massive size, her
pilot set the Pride of Caprica down gently on her landing pads opposite
Warehouse Eleven.  
     The huge cargo doors opened in the side of the ship, forming a
loading ramp.  Eight cargo haulers drove down the ramp.
     "I see they came prepared," Lander observed.
     "But, it will still take an entire day to load that ship," Becke
said.
     "Daggit Leader, Control Deck.  Commander Adama orders that only one
Pride freighter is to be on the ground at a time.  He feels that they are
too valuable to risk more than one at a time."
     "I agree, Control Deck," replied Colonel Becke.  "Besides, two of
these monsters would block the runway for all other traffic."
     "We noticed that too, Daggit Leader."
     "Colonel," Lander said, "I've flown my Viper past this ship lots of
times, but you just can't get the perspective until you stand beside
her."
     
     Pack and Forde quickly returned to Warehouse Eight with their cargo. 
Giles, Titan, Marshall and Monk, four of Blue Squadron's pilots, were
waiting at the warehouse door to unload the molecular analyzers.
     "What took you so long?" Giles asked, grinning.  "Salik's been
chewing the walls waiting for these things."
     "If this food is clean, Salik can chew on something else tonight,"
Pack replied as he handed one of the cases to Giles.  "Get these things
into him so he'll calm down."
     The four Blue Squadron pilots took the cased analyzers in hand and
returned inside where Salik was impatiently pacing.
     "At last," he said, rubbing his hands together.  "And Maggie thought
to send more than one analyzer.  Smart girl.  So, let's get to work."
     Salik took the case from Monk, set it on the floor and opened it. 
Carefully, he removed the analyzer from the case and turned it on. 
Instantly, three green lights came on.  Salik pressed a button on the top
of the unit to begin the self-diagnostic cycle.  The lights flashed for
five microns, then stayed on.  This molecular analyzer was ready.
     Satisfied that the analyzer hadn't been damaged in transport, Salik
walked to the open crate of java beans.  Holding the unit in his left
hand, he held the analyzer directly over the beans and pressed the button
on the left side with his thumb.  The tiny view screen displayed "No
radiation or toxins present."  Smiling, he pointed the analyzer at the
side of the crate and pressed the button again.  The same message was
displayed.
     "Right, let's get busy," Salik said.  "Get those other analyzers out
and turned on.  We've got a lot of consumables to inspect."
     "Will it be necessary to open each crate, Doctor?" Giles asked.
     "No, just hold the analyzer to the side of the crate, as I did,"
Salik explained.  "If the analyzer can't scan the contents, a message
saying so will be displayed.  But, we have to scan each crate
individually.  We can't rush this."
     Giles, Titan and Marshall set down their cases, opened them, and
removed the analyzers.  A centon later, they were ready.
     "Let's get started," Giles said.  "Where do you want to begin,
Doctor?"
     Salik led the four warriors to the crates nearest to the large cargo
doors, which had been opened by Lieutenant Artes and his men.  The cargo
haulers from the Pride of Caprica rolled in and stopped beside Salik. 
Within a matter of centons, Salik had a relay of loaded haulers shunting
back and forth between the warehouse and the freighter.
     "Well, they'll be out of trouble for a while," Cotto said, impressed
with Salik's efficiency.
     "Daggit Two, this is Daggit Leader," Colonel Becke said over the
Unicom.
     "That is Daggit Two, go ahead," Cotto replied.
     "While you and Blue Squadron were waiting for the molecular
analyzers, Teams Two, Three and Four have checked out the rest of the
warehouses," Becke said.  "It appears that we have seven warehouses of
food to check out.  Four more have weapons and ammunition.  Warehouse One
contains spare parts for the Raiders."
     "Understood, Leader," Cotto said.  "Do you have any further
instruction for us?"
     "Affirmative, Daggit Two.  It's time to check out the other
buildings.  I want you, Apollo, Starbuck and Boomer to meet up with Team
Two at Building One.  That should be where the central computer core is
located.  Persephone and her team are ready to recover the core."
     "Understood, Daggit Leader.  We're on our way."

Chapter 13

     Bojay and Sheba led Team Three and half of Silver Spar Squadron into
Building Three, weapons drawn.  The automated systems had extinguished
the fires started by Red Squadron's bombardment.  Since the roof had
collapsed, the going was slow.  Damaged and destroyed Cylons were
everywhere, but none appeared to be a threat.
     "Over here," a Daggit trooper called out.  " I found one still
functioning."
     Sheba picked her way through the rubble to the Cylon, while Bojay
continued the search.  The trooper pointed to an IL-series Cylon, pinned
down by a mammoth steel beam, which had been part of the roof structure. 
The beam lay across the Cylon's chest and had severed its legs.  Sparks
and mechanical fluids emitted from the jagged damage.  His cranial dome
was severely damaged and only one eye light still functioned.
     "Can you talk?" Sheba asked, as she holstered her laser.
     "My vocal center still functions," the Cylon replied.
     "What's your name?"
     "My designation is Scar."
     "Very well, Scar," Sheba said.  "Can you tell me why your defenses
were so poor?  Colonial forces met virtually no resistance."
     "I can answer that," Scar said.  "When the Imperious Leader sued for
peace, he did so out of desperation.  You Colonials were far closer to
victory than you realized.  We had ten baseships to your five battlestars
and our primary shipyard had been extensively damaged by an unfortunate
accident, so there were no reinforcements coming anytime soon.  Also, in
the two yahrens prior to the peace conference, Colonial forces were
destroying Raiders and centurions faster than they could be replaced.  I
believe the consensus was that if the war had continued for another
yarhen, you would have won.  Or, at least, secured peace under your
terms.  But, I digress."
     "Shadow and I were sent out ahead of you to establish an outpost
from which an ambush could be launched.  Given the speed of your fleet,
we were forced to wait three sectars for you to arrive in the quadrant. 
We took this planet from the beings that were here, and incorporated
their structures into our base.  We erected the fuel storage tanks, but
the rest of the structures were already in place.  We simply modified the
interiors to meet our specific need."
     "Where did all of the human food come from?" Sheba asked.
     "The Hatari established this base as a prison for their most violent
offenders.  The prisoners worked agro stations raising their own food,
and exported the surplus back to the Hatari home system.  But, the
freighters stopped coming about five yahrens ago, when the Cylon Empire
destroyed Hatar for selling supplies to your colonies.  So, for four
yahrens, the prisoners and their guards continued to stockpile dehydrated
foodstuffs."
     "Then, about eight sectars ago, the Pegasus stopped here."
     "The Pegasus?" Sheba exclaimed.  "Here?"
     "That's correct," Scar continued.  "It seems that Commander Cain
heard about the prison's stockpile and came here to barter for supplies. 
He told the Hatari about the fate of their home world, and they agreed to
provide Cain with all the food his crew needed.  The Pegasus left here
less than a sectar before we arrived."
     "Our invasion wasn't as smooth as we would have liked and a large
number of Hatari survivors escaped into the mountains.  Naturally,
patrols were sent out to eradicate these escapees, but we Cylons are not
designed to function well in mountainous regions.  The Hatari have
attacked our patrols and inflicted heavy losses."
     "To make matters worse, a design flaw was discovered in the power
couplings of my centurions.  They could not function for more than thirty
centars without recharging.  Having to have constant patrols out for the
Hatari further reduced that to twenty-four centars.  Fully half of my
centurions were recharging when you attacked.  Collapsing the building
eliminated one hundred Cylons while they were still connected to the
power grid.  When your aerial bombardment destroyed our power relay
station, our central computer crashed, as did our neural network.  Since
my remaining centurions could no longer access the central computer, they
simply continued with whatever task was their primary function.  If they
weren't programmed to fight, they didn't.  When the central computer went
down, I no longer had centurions, I had drones."
     The last few words were somewhat garbled.  Scar's one remaining eye
light grew noticeably dimmer.
     "My time is nearly terminated, human," he said.  "Now, you must
answer one question for me.  Why haven't we heard from the Cylon home
world in sectars?"
     "I don't know, Scar," Sheba replied.  "We've heard from no other
humans in that time, so I can't even speculate."
     "Frak," Scar said.  His remaining eye went dark and he spoke no
more.
     Bojay and the rest of Silver Spar Squadron gathered around Sheba and
the now dead Cylon.
     "Did he say anything useful?" Bojay asked.
     "Yes, he did," Sheba replied, tears of joy moistening her eyes.  "He
said that the Pegasus was here six sectars ago to resupply."
     "That means Cain has been here since our last battle at Gammora," a
huge grin spreading across his face.
     "Exactly," Sheba continued.  "Scar also said that this base hasn't
heard from their home world in sectars.  Could my father be responsible
for that?"
     Bojay closed his eyes, deep in thought.
     "Yes, it's possible," he said, finally.  "If my arithmetic is
correct, the Pegasus could get from here to the Cylon home world in about
two sectars, if they set a direct course.  They probably didn't though,
or they would have met up with Shadow's baseship on the way."

     Apollo, Starbuck, Boomer and Cotto arrived at Building Two just as
Team Two was coming back out.  Lieutenant Carthy saluted Cotto, while
Persephone and her team began unloading their equipment.
     "Report, Lieutenant," Cotto said.
     "We've completed our sweep through the building, Captain," Carthy
replied.  "We found four armed Cylons, which we dispatched, and six more
that didn't even acknowledge our presence.  We eliminated then too, but
it felt a little like killing in cold blood, Sir.  The building is now
secure."
     "Good job, Lieutenant," Captain Cotto said.  "Has Persephone been
inside yet?"
     "We were waiting for you, Captain."
     Cotto and the three pilots drew their weapons, while Persephone and
her two teammates picked up their tools.  Carthy led the way back inside. 
Just a few paces inside the door, lay the remnants of four centurions.
     "These four were armed," Carthy pointed out.  He continued down the
corridor.  Starbuck and Boomer exchanged glances, but said nothing.
     Five metrons later, the corridor opened out into a room about twenty
metrons across and five metrons high.  In the center of the room was the
base's central computer.  With the power relay station in ruins, the
computer was totally inert.  Scattered around the room were six more
destroyed centurions.
     "These ones weren't armed, Captain," Carthy said.  "I'm sorry, Sir,
but I still feel like we murdered them in cold-blood."
     "I understand, Lieutenant," Cotto said.  "Killing an unarmed being,
even a Cylon, is never easy."
     "They didn't even acknowledge our presence, Captain," Carthy
repeated, frustration creeping into his voice.
     "Would you rather wait outside, son," Cotto asked, kindly.
     "Yeah, Captain," Carthy replied, wiping his forehead with the back
of his hand.  "I think that would be the best thing."  He turned to his
men.  "We'll establish our perimeter outside."
     Wordlessly, Team Two filed out.
     "This hasn't gone quite the way we trained them," Cotto said, to no
one in particular.  Then he turned to Persephone.  "I want some answers. 
Why aren't these Cylons behaving like normal Cylons?"
     "For starters, this computer core is older than the seven of us,
combined.  This is a huge piece of junk.  I'm not sure we'll be able to
retrieve much of the data, but we'll be ready to go in a few centons,"
Persephone said.
     "We're ready now, Ensign," one of the computer technicians said. 
"Six data links, one power coupling and four bolts and its free."
     "Good work, Cranst," Persephone said.  "You and Ustin take the core
back to the shuttle.  I'll be along shortly."
     The two technicians carefully lifted the Cylon computer core from
its position in the computer and packed it into a carrying case.  They
quickly gathered up their equipment and left.
     "We'll know fairly quickly whether we can retrieve any of the data. 
Actually retrieving it could take a little longer, though.  I should have
a report in a couple of days, Captain Cotto," Persephone said.
     "Please keep me posted, Ensign."
     Persephone nodded and followed after her team.
     "Daggit Two, this is Daggit Leader.  I need a status report."
     "He doesn't let you rest for a centon, does he?" Boomer observed.
     "No rest for the weary, Lieutenant," Cotto replied.  "Daggit Leader,
Daggit Two," he said into his Unicom.  "The computer core is secure and
on it's way back to the shuttle.  What's next, Colonel?"
     "Return to the airfield immediately.  I want to discuss something
with you and Blue Leader before I call the Galactica."
     "We're on our way, Daggit Leader."     
     
     Five centons later, Captains Apollo and Cotto reached Colonel
Becke's command land ram.
     "What's happening, Colonel?" Cotto asked.
     "I've just been talking to Celestra Control," Becke said.  "There's
still no sign of any Cylon activity anywhere in the quadrant.  In my
opinion, there is simply too much valuable cargo to leave it here.  I
want to recommend to Commander Adama that we alter our plans and stay
here until we've loaded every cubic metron of cargo space in the fleet. 
Any opinions?"
     "Well, we never expected to find all of this food warehoused here,"
Apollo pointed out.  "So, there's far more useful cargo here then our
plan allowed for.  It could take days to load everything."
     "I agree, Colonel," Cotto agreed.  "We can't afford to let this
opportunity pass us by."
     "Pretty much what I thought you'd say," Becke admitted.  "I'll talk
to the big boss."

Epilogue

     It took a full ten days to load the Pride freighters, and still
three warehouses of food were untouched.  Smaller freighters and shuttles
spent another two days clearing out one more warehouse and stocking every
ship in the fleet.  The Galactica and the Celestra remained in orbit over
the base while freighters returned to the fleet.
     About mid-day on the eleventh day, a shuttle from the fleet landed
on the Galactica's Beta bay.  Onboard was Captain Willem, the master of
the Gemon Hauler, an old inter-planetary transport.  She currently
carried ten crew and eighty passengers, but was in a severe state of
disrepair.  Willem met with Adama in his office.
     "I understand, Commander, that my Gemon Hauler is to be
decommissioned."
     "As you know, old friend, your ship has logged five times the fleet
average for repair time," Adama said.  "We'll have her scrapped by the
Hades II and turned into useful parts.  Your passengers and crew will be
reassigned to other ships."
     "Eliminating my Hauler will speed up the fleet, won't it?" Willem
asked.
     "Yes, we'll speed up from one-quarter to one-third light speed,"
Adama replied.  "It's not much, but it's something."
     "It'll confuse the Cylons for a little while," Willem agreed.
     "And, now for you, my friend," Adama said.  "Do you want a new
assignment, or are you ready to retire?"
     "Spend the rest of my days of the seniors' ship?" Willem asked,
chuckling.  "I'd die of boredom is a matter of sectons.  Surely, there
must be something else?"
     "Well," Adama said, smiling, "perhaps there is something else.  We
have captured fourteen Cylon tankers in the last little while.  We need
crews for these ships.  Someone needs to train these new crew people. 
Or, would you prefer a new command?"
     "Adama, I'm too old for a another new ship," Willem admitted.  "But,
the idea of teaching our young people what I know appeals to me.  How
many new crew people do we need?"
     "Our plan is to assign a minimum of twelve crew on each tanker,"
Adama explained.  "Although, Colonel Tigh feels that eighteen crew would
be better."
     "Six crew per watch, instead of four," Willem said.  "That makes
sense."
     "Excellent, Willem," Adama said, standing up to shake Willem's hand. 
"Of course, a promotion to Colonel goes along with your new duties."
     "I can begin training in a couple of days, Commander.  I'd like that
much time to plan my instructional sessions.  As far as I know, no one
has even tried to train non-military personnel to serve as crews for
Cylon tankers.  And you've asked me to train between one hundred
sixty-eight and two hundred fifty-two crew people."
     "At your discretion, Colonel.  I'll leave everything up to you."

THE END
(Submitted 1/25/2003)