Phase One - Humble Beginnings (27,155 Words)

T-2 Days – 0750 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – XO’s Quarters

The soft noise of running water filled the air of the somewhat spacious room as a lone figure stood in front of a sink. The telltale signs of shaving cream covered his face as he held a report outstretched in his hands. His eyes darted back and forth from the mirror in front of him to the report being held in his hand as he slowly shaved his facial hair away. Not liking the results he was reading, the man threw the report folder on the nearby table. “Gods damn civilian contractors,” he muttered as he splashed water on his face to wash away the remaining shaving cream. Taking a towel from the nearby rack, the man dried off his face as he moved across the room, eventually stopping at his desk chair to pick up his jacket.

“Pass the word, Colonel Knight report to CIC immediately, Colonel Knight to CIC immediately. All hands expect frequent power fluctuations and system malfunctions.”

Bowing his head in silent frustration, Ethan Knight checked his watch. “Impressive, it’s not even 0800 and they’re already breaking things. These civilian contractors should get an award.” Buttoning up his jacket and giving his appearance a once over, the Colonel took the pile of folders on his desk and left his quarters.

As he moved through the mazelike hallways of the Battlestar, he returned the salutes given by crewmembers and gave polite nods to the few civilian contractors on the ship. As he approached the open doors of the CIC, several lights throughout the hallway flickered on and off before going out altogether. Stopping in his tracks, the Colonel turned to look over his shoulder as he peered up and down the nearly pitch-black hallway. If it wasn’t for the overhead emergency lighting, Ethan wouldn’t have been able to see a damned thing.

Once again shaking his head, the Colonel continued on into CIC. As soon as he entered the room the power was restored and he was greeted by several people. Moving toward the center of the room, Ethan observed his surroundings. Much of the CIC was still offline. Many of the monitors throughout the room only showed a blank blue screen while several terminals underneath the crew stations were open with wires hanging out of them. Above the central command table, the DRADIS screens were covered by thin plastic bags as if to exercise the point that they were never used before.

“Give me a sitrep Petty Officer,” Knight said as he dropped the pile of folders onto the clear command table of the CIC.

Petty Officer 2nd Class Zubin Ream turned around from his position and gave the Colonel a quick salute before looking back at his station. ”More or less sir, the network is frakked. For some reason it’s refusing to respond to any commands we give it. We’ve restarted it several times throughout the night, but the results are all the same. I think the contractors frakked up the install somewhere,” he said as he placed his clipboard on top of the terminal.

”Can you fix it?” Knight asked as he walked over to the terminal and started skimming over the lines of data that the console was giving.

”Not without a consultant sir. Whatever the problem is, it’s beyond me.”

Nodding his head, Colonel Knight pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration. ”Alright then, contact Integral Systems Engineering and tell them to send someone over here right away. We’re due to launch in a week and I don’t want any problems. Inform the drydock commander of the possible setback.”

”Yes sir,” Ream said as he wrote down several things on his clipboard. ”Another thing sir, we’re expecting Commander Cavil to arrive in the port side flight pod in about 15 minutes. Should I have several crewmembers meet you on the port flight deck?”

Knight braced his hands on the command table and stretched his back. ”Gods dammit,” he muttered under his breath. ”Alright, do so,” he said as he turned around to leave the CIC and head to the port side flight deck. ”And for gods’ sake, take that frakking plastic off the DRADIS screens!”

T-2 Days – 0758 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – CAG’s Office

“Oh, for frak’s sake, not again!”

The loud exclamation was barely muffled by the hatch, which divided the dark corridor from the dark room. Inside, an upset officer muttered under her breath, searching for the exit: “Battlestar, my ass… Not even the lighting works on this flying scrapheap! Who the hell suggested to build this thing over Aerolon, anywa-OUCH!”, she cried out, as she hit her desk with her own side. “Damnit… Next time, I’ll pass on working aboard a ‘brand new ship’…”

As soon as she reached it, she opened the bulkhead and stomped out, now having the emergency lighting for orientation. Her mood was incredibly bad, compared to how she usually behaved. Every crewmember that happened to meet her on her way earned an especially cold glare, but the least of them actually saw it, though most of them shivered. If not for the general urgency of getting to the Port Flight Deck in time before the Commander's arrival, Elena probably would have gone to the Training room, to give one of the punching bags a beating.

And to be frank: Several days in her office, with the lights going out every once in a while, which made her job especially hard... Going through the crew lists and every pilot's folder, to form the Squadrons, to write a report about fighting capacity of the Air Group for the XO and the CO and many other tasks of plain, dull paper work... The accumulation of all that made her especially edgy. After all, the CAG's work wasn't as exciting as one would have thought. At least it's not, as long as the worst that happens are power fluctuations... But I swear to the Gods that, if the same things happens to me in a Viper, I'm going to have a personal word with whoever was in charge of the electronics.

T-2 Days – 0630 – Aerelon Colonial Military Transport Complex – Officer's Lounge

"Yes, Admiral.. Yes, I understand. Thank you, sir. I think so too. That's very kind of you..."

Commander Francis Cavil rolled his eyes and exhaled quietly through his nostrils, trying not to let his frustration obvious through the phone. Admiral Wilson was a very outspoken individual - and not one to be interrupted or hustled. He would say what he wanted to say and take his time saying it. Everyone knew and respected that invariable rule of the cosmos.

Cavil waved at the barkeep who brought him a small glass of something mildly resembling alcohol. The Commander accepted it gratefully and sipped at it. He rested his head on the arm he had propped up against the counter and nodded along with the Admiral's seemingly endless pep talk.

"Right. Well, I'll be sure to mention that to him the next time I see him, sir. All right then. Okay. Thank you, sir. Goodbye."

With that he swiftly hung up the phone before the Admiral could slip out any other congratulatory comments or tidbits of wisdom he had 'picked up' over the years. It was all Cavil had been hearing for the last four weeks - since his promotion had been made official.

"Congratulations, old boy," he said, wiggling his drink in one hand while inconspicuously removing the cord from the phone with the other and wrapping it around itself in a complicated knot. He downed the rest of the drink and hopped off the stool.

"Thanks, Gus."

"Naw prahblem, Commandahr. Curm back and visit urs some taem, weren't you?"

"Of course," said Cavil with a grin. "After all, it's not like a wars a' coming, right?"

They shared a little smile.

"I'll see you around, Gus."

"Ser long, Frank!"

Gus the barkeep and his wife, Debbie were good people. Probably some of the best. They didn't ask for much out of life and never thought about harming another soul. All they wanted was a happy home, a decent wage, and a friendly customer or two. Cavil could respect that.

I'm going to miss that man, he thought, as he shrugged on his blue uniform jacket and walked out of the lounge for what he knew would be the last time.


T-2 Days – 0800 – In Space Above Aerelon – Transport Raptor

The Raptor's engines were surprisingly calming. Cavil had always found their incessant hum to be somewhat obnoxious. Today was something different, though. Perhaps it was the genuine anticipation of a new assignment. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it, Cavil was intrigued by the oppourtunity for interaction with the humans. He'd never really believed their extermination was the right move; none of the One's did, for that matter. It was a foolish gambit made out of spite and anger and served no logical purpose other than usurping their own resources and wasting countless hours of work and preparation. The other models hadn't listened.

Oh well, the thought. Let them have their war. By the time they realize their mistake it'll be too late. Might as well have a bit of fun in the mean time.

"Commander," said the Raptor's ECO through the ship's comm system.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"We're nearly there, sir. We're just double-checking the ship's auto-landing system. Apparently they've been experiencing power failures all morning and are recommending a manual landing. What would you prefer us to do?"

"I assume you can make the landing manually."

The ECO grinned, as if that were a foolish question then, noticing the Commander's stoic expression, cleared his throat and looked serious.

"Yes sir."

"Then do it. Being late for my arrival isn't of particular concern to me, but the crew expects at very least punctuality from their Commanding Officer. Am I right?"

"Of course."

"Good. Land it, then."

"Sir."

Cavil watched silently as the auto-landing program was disengaged and the pilot began taking them in manually. It was clear by the smooth way in which his hands moved that he was well-trained in maneuvering the craft even without a computer program to hold him steady.

"Can I ask you a question, son?" he asked aloud and suddenly. The ECO turned around, the pilot busy concentrating.

"Do you believe in the Gods - the Lords of Kobol?"

"Yes sir. I was raised on Sajittaron."

"Oh, you're one of those. Well," he said, an air of humour on his tongue. "I guess I can forgive you. After all, we aren't responsible for the mistakes of our parents."

"I'm guessing you don't believe then sir?"

"No," said Cavil. "No I don't believe in myths and legends. I prefer to go with what I know to be true rather than waste my time with the perverted mysticism of organized religion... No offense."

"None taken, sir."

"Really? Why not?"

"Permission to speak off the record?"

"Granted."

"Well, sir. I figure you must have some good reason for not believing - and for that matter, being so bitter. Obviously I don't know what it is--"

"--Obviously--"

"--but I know that whatever it is, the Gods gave us the choice not to believe in them for a reason. You're just exercising your Gods-given right as a human. In essence, by not believing in them, you're proving their existence more than you ever could by believing."

"So, what your saying is.. I'm a more devout religionist than you are."

"Yes."

"I like that," he said. "You're a good kid. What's your name?"

"Mercado, sir. Sean Mercado."

"Mercado. I'll remember that one. I'm sure I can trust in seeing you again?"

"I hope so, Commander."

With that, the ship rumbled and bounced ever-so-slightly as it landed. Cavil snapped off his helmet and tossed it to the floor, enjoying the rush of air; stale and artificial as it was. He began slipping out of the flight-suit they'd insisted on him wearing. 'Old men' weren't encouraged to go on dangerous flight missions without them. That said, he preferred the crew not see him wearing one when he arrived.

As the Raptor's hatch opened and the light spilled in, Cavil prepared himself for the days to come. He knew they would be anything but simple.

“Two things are infinite: the universe and stupidity; and I'm not really sure about the universe.”

The soft flicker of firelight, a young girls laughter. The crack of logs burning.



Strip lighting flickered overhead, buzzing out of synch with the steady, piercing vibrations boring into his wrist. He tapped at the chronometer, deadening its wails for another minute.



''I asked you not to come Andreu.''

''You let me in anyway.''

She smiled, an almost inscrutable turning of a corner of her thin lips. A lock of golden orange hair fell in front of her face, hiding her closed eyes. He could kiss her.

''She's still your daughter.''



The deck plating was cold beneath his back, bleeding the heat out of his body through his t-shirt. He tried to swallow away the taste of stale cigarette, vomit and nabraska from his mouth. All he did was add bile to the mix.



''How do you think she will feel And?''

The look in her eyes made his chest hurt.

''You come in here, all smiles and presents on her birthday... you make her so happy... and then what? Gone for another six months? Nine? She may be your daughter – but she might as well not have a father.''



He really needed to pee. The corner would do.



''Daddy, daddy!''

Before he could say anything, a little girl, maybe eight or nine, runs up to her sitting father, full of sweetness and joy. He returns her beaming smile. Golden orange hair and the face of an angel; she is the spitting image of her mother - but the smile is her father's. He sweeps up his daughter and puts her on his knee, dragging a dozy looking stuffed bear with her.



The heavy bulkhead door opened, sounds of the corridor came crashing into him like a sheet of rain. He closes his eyes and tries to block it out... thinks about returning to the storage locker where he slept.



The cute face hides behind the dozy looking bear's head, looking sheepish. She gets the courage up to speak.

''Daddy?''

''Yes sweetness and light?''

''Petrov is a nice bear. He's a good little brother to Teddy.''

She looks up, pulling her face completely in view, rosy cheeks and all. Her mother reaches out and strokes her hair, a look of grace and contentment shining from the mother's features.

''Daddy, when you get back... can I have a little brother?''

The punching vibration goes off again, drilling straight into Rylan's brain. He hits the off switch, killing the alarm. Overwhelming nausea rises from his gut in waves, breaking him.

The mother turns away, covering her mouth. He puts his hand out to comfort her – but stops, the hand hovering over her shoulder and then pulling back. He looks down at his little one, her smile gone, a look of incomprehension and distress replacing it. He swallows hard, biting down on swells of emotion. The daughter doesn't understand – but she knows there is something wrong, and it is killing her.

There is the sound of a drip, tiny splashes of water hitting the chaotic papers arrayed on the kitchen table. Tiny indervidual drips of water, rolling down from the mother's tired eyes.



Rylan took stock. He cleared his head, muttering to himself.

''I'm late, I need to be on deck.''

T-2 Days – 0800 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port landing pod, Workshop 4

The sound of a toolbox being dropped on the metal table right next to his ear, violently interrupted Graff's sleep. The mechanic responsible for the noise was now staring at him with an amused look on his face.
"Ow! what the frak.."
"Wake up sunshine, we got work to do in here."
He got up from the makeshift bed and groaned something about it being his day off, then slowly made his way out of the room as more mechanics started to come in.

For 2 days, he'd been stuck down there, hoping that the mechanics would just stop coming to work each morning. When he came aboard, first thing he did was head for the designated dorms to drop off his stuff. They told James that he couldnt use those dorms because the power fluctuations might cause problems with the life support for that area. He told them not to worry, if it got too stuffy he'd open a window. They said they didnt think it was a joking matter. He asked for alternatives, they said it wasnt their job. So he told 'em to go frak themselves.

For 2 long days, he's been geting no more than 4 hours of sleep. He thought about sleeping in the rec room, but it was always full (he should know) and noisy. He asked a fellow pilot if they could share a bunk, but she just laughed and said that not without buying her dinner first.

For 2 Gods-damned long days , Graff's been trying to figure out a solution. And now, walking out of "his quarters", he finally has it.

T-2 Days 0645 - Caprica City, Lower market's near to Military Space port


Alex walked along the rows of the market stalls, that were slowly awakening to a days work. His eye's could see the glint of the sunrise in the dew that still hung from the top's of the stalls and the shrubs that grew from the upper walls above the market. Being back here brought a strong mix of emotions. Swallowing hard as he walked past the opening that lead to the fateful encouter all those years ago. He finally reached the second to last stall and stood looking at the hap-hazard way the owner had arranged the items.

Alex: "Still can't make your stall look good eh Artes."

A man in his early fifties looked up over the top of the stall. Alex knew he was standing on a box as Artes barely stood over four and a half foot.

Artes: "And all that officer training still don't make ya respect ya elders huh?"

Alex's chuckled and walked around towards the man.

Alex: "It's been too long my old friend, and i'm sorry to say that it will be a lot longer before we meet again. I've been asigned to a new Mecury Class battlestar as Tactical officer. I ship out in a few minutes."

Artes looked at him with a mixture of pride and lost youth for his dull shrunken face did not hide the ravashes of aging. Fumbling with a few items in a draw he picked out a little figure.

Artes: "Your a lucky man after your past. You would make your parent's proud. You make me proud to know that you are making a life for yourself in this frakked up universe. Take this. It's Aurora, goddess of the Dawn. A sign of hope and new times for you. May a fair wind be at your back, and let the Lord's of Kobal watch down on you."

Alex could do nothing but flash a small smile. He went to shake Artes' hand but Artes grabbed Alex, and despite his feelings towards contact he allowed Artes to give him the hug. Putting the figure into his breast pocket he walked through the arch and towards the space port.

*****15 Minute's Later*****

Alex was sitting in the officer's lounge with a cup of coffee, waiting to be called for his flight to the Shipyard and his new assignment. Reading over the spec's of the Mecury Class Battlestar he knew that this would be the challenge of a life time. As he was reading he didn't notice a slender figure slide into a seat opposite.

Officer: "New assignment?"

Alex who was so preocupied with his file that he had to stop and take a second glance at the young woman. Should couldn't have been more then 20, with long dark hair. The smallest hint of the Aerelon accent as she finished the last part of the word.

Alex: "Yeah, Battlestar Rhea. Yourself"

Although Alex felt uncomfotable with this kind of small talk he knew that to make he life eaiser if he could learn to live with it.

"Yeah, i'm one of the new supervisior's for the Scorpian shipyards."

Alex could see the pride in the way she said it, and it was a good posting. But Alex felt that he been given the better assignment as the action's of a battlestar were much less predictable then on a shipyard.

"That's very good congratulations."

Shuttle to Aerelon Orbital Drydock now boarding at gate 32a. I repeat Shuttle to Aerelon Orbital Drydock now boarding at gate 32a

Alex stood up and extended a hand towards the woman.

"Good luck, it was nice to meet you"

Shaking her hand he walked towards the Raptor that was awaiting him. No one else was boarding at this time. Odd, he thought to himself. But shaking off the feeling he sat down in one of the rear seats of the Raptor. He gave the ECO and pilot a quick nod each before strapping himself in....

T-2 Days – 0755 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Port Flight Pod

John 'Drifter' Nagala flicked the burned up cigarette out of his hand and onto the deck. He stomped on it and dragged his boot across the much-too-smooth surface, leaving a long dirty scuff mark.

"That's better," he said. "Frakkin' hangar deck looks like a showhome or something."

He wasn't talking to anyone in particular. Maybe the cute deckhand across the room. She looked up at him and smiled. He gave her a little wave and she turned away to her work, realizing that flirting was strictly forbidden with superior officers.

"Damn."

He turned back to the ship behind him and took a long hard look at it. He'd been waiting for over an hour for the Civilian Contractor that was supposed to come and remove the faulty CNP box from the craft so that he could run the systems checks he wanted to on it. He'd decided that this Viper would be his. Were someone to ask him why - which they weren't - he would've told them that it was the one that smelled the least like 'new car'.

Realizing with frustration that, once again, the average person could not be counted on for anything, John pulled out a schematic paper from the closest waist-high cabinet and started reading.

If you want a job done, he thought, do it yourself.

He picked up a screwdriver, turned it over in his hands then, tossing it back into the cabinet, grabbed a nicely-weighted hammer.

"Here goes nothin'!"

T-2 Days - 0755 - Landing pattern above Aerelon Orbital Drydock

The ride to the Drydock had been the standard Raptor ride that he had done hundreds of times before. He always kept an eye on the DRADIS screen, a force of habit he gotten into since his officer's training. The ECO noticed his glance and pointed towards the forward viewport. Alex looked out and saw the Drydock. The sun was just peaking past the planet and it threw and amber glow over the dock. Alex held a tiny gasp as he finally saw the Battlestar Rhea glittering in the light. It's name flashing off the Flightpod as they started the approach to the shipyard.

Pilot: "As its just you ensign. Are you going to a ship or to the drydock itself?"

"I'm heading for the Battlestar Rhea"

The pilot chuckled as he opened a channel.

Pilot: "Battlestar Rhea, This is Raptor 1124. We have an Ensign...."

He shot a glance at Alex.

"Sola."

Pilot: "Engisn Sola on board. Requesting and automatic landing aboard ship."

LSO: "Auto landing denied, we are having power problems. Manual landing authorised starboard upper flight deck, trap 5. Welcome aboard Ensign."

Alex sat back and watched the Pilot as he took the controls and directed the ship into the belly of the beast. The crew working in the flight pod looked as if they were ant's scurring about with making the might ship ready to launch. As the ship set down Alex stood up and walked to the front of the Raptor.

The Raptor was lowered into the airlock, and once the pressure had been equalized with the ship's the airlock slid open and Alex saw the brand new flight deck. It was clear it had not been used yet, as there was no skid mark's, or burns, none of the usual marks that indicated an active flight deck. Once the raptor was on its final tow towards its parking bay Alex moved to the hatch and the ECO opened it. Alex looked at him and nooded. Stepping out the Raptor a deck hand moved towards him.

Deckhand: "Name?"

"Ensign Alex Sola, Deckhand. Where is the commander or the XO?"

Deckhand: "Sorry sir. With the ammount of people coming and going you can't be too careful. The commander's raptor is due any minute, The XO is awaiting him on the port flight deck."

"Thank you Deckhand."

Alex picked his bag up and walked towards the port flight deck.

T-2 Days – 0755 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Port Flight Pod

"No," she said angrily into the phone. "That's not what I said at all! You're supposed to be down here with a team fixing the Godsdamn CNPs right now, not cavorting around in the aft life support system. What, out of all the teams you have you can't spare one to fix the problem you promised me would be dealt with nearly a week ago?"

She was really getting pissed. It wasn't her job to fix the mistakes of the Civilian Contractors - which were plentiful and widespread.

"Well if you're not gonna fix them, I'll just get a team together to remove them and you wont be paid for the work. Yes I can! This is my frackin' flight deck and I can do whatever I want. If you've got a problem with that, you'll have to bring it up with the Commander when he gets here, and I doubt he'll be very sympathetic with your point of view seeing as half his ship still isn't working. Yeah, you do that."

She slammed the phone down on its base and kicked the wall in anger. She ran a hand through her sandy blonde hair and sighed. Turning her tired body around and leaning her back against the wall, she let gravity carry her down to the floor. Once there, she put her head in her hands and massaged her forehead with gloved hands. She didn't worry about taking them off. They were brand new and spotless- just like the rest of her uniform... just like the rest of the ship.

Tracey rarely got this angry about anything. She was a fairly cool-headed person in general and didn't let anything phase her. There was nothing she couldn't overcome- except this. She'd only had this job for three weeks and nothing had been going right since day one.

When she'd first shown up, her first step off the Raptor had been greeted by a small group of nervous looking deckhands. They'd saluted, introduced themselves quickly and directed her over to a man they all called "Mr. Ansley".

Ansley was the chauvanistic block-headed son of a bitch who had somehow been put in charge of the civilian team. Apparently he believed that the schedule he'd been given by the Colonial Administration was arbitrary and not worth following. She'd tried talking some sense into him, but was distracted by his bad breath and constantly having to deflect sexist jabs about her being a woman who didn't understand his "man's work". Eventually, she thought she was getting somewhere with him... until he asked her if she wanted to go to dinner with him.

That had been how it all began.

"Bastard."

She pulled herself up off the floor and looked around the small workroom-turned-office she had been placed in due to the recent wake of system failures throughout what must have been half the ship. She glanced at herself in the mirror she had hung crudely with a piece of extra-strength putty and a nail earlier last week. Her hair was mussed up and her eyes were highlighted with dark sleepless circles.

"Gods," she said, suddenly realizing how bad she looked. "Why did I ever take this assignment?"

She walked over to the sink and turned it on. The water was cold and refreshing. Cupping her hands, she gathered as much of the clean clear liquid as she could and splashed it on her face. It gave her just what she needed. A swift kick back into reality.

Grabbing a towel with one hand and a hair tie with the other, she made her way back over to the mirror.

That's better, she thought. At least now nobody will know just how much he's getting to me.

Then she glanced at her watch.

"Oh frack!" It was nearly 0802. The Commander was due to arrive at any moment and she was not where she was supposed to be. As the Deck Chief of the new ship, she should be there waiting for him to arrive with a full written report on her team's progress.

She haphazardly zipped up her orange jumpsuit and lunged for her makeshift desk. Grabbing the sheaf of paper from it and turning to the door, she jammed the towel into her tool belt. Clinging to the report with one hand while putting her hair into a loose ponytail with the other, she kicked open the unlocked bulkhead door and made her way out onto the flight deck.

T-2 Days - 0755 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Port Flight Deck

Colonel Knight quickly moved down the staircase leading to the flight deck of the Rhea. Several members of the flight deck were scattered about, inspecting the many Vipers and Raptors that were scattered about the flight deck. Almost all of the craft that were currently on the flight deck were new. Fresh from the factories on the surface of Aerelon.

Walking up to the nearest Viper, Ethan took a moment to run his hands over the sleek wings of the technological marvel. He still didn't know how he was going to survive much longer without sitting in the seat of a Viper Cockpit. It was barely a month since he last flown and he is still fighting the edge to get back in the seat and enjoy the assault of gravity on his body.

"One day, we'll fly together again," he muttered under his breath as he slowly backed away from the craft. Turning around he continued down the flight deck. Chatting with crewmembers along the way as he patiently awaited the arrival of the Commander's Raptor.

With a hesitant flicker, the lights went on again, just as Captain Vance went down the main hallway to the Flight Deck. I bet they go out again as soon as the Commander arrives… The thought was rather funny, but the facial expression she showed was dark, though.

For the first time since her arrival, she entered the flight deck, walked down the staircase and looked around. It almost surprised her that everything looked that good. The Vipers had never been in the air; the launch tubes never been used; there were no scratches on the floor and all the tools still had that scent of their factory. Still… Apart from that, this ship was probably one that needed a general overhaul as badly as the old bucket called ‘Galactica’. From all she had heard, the CIC crew still had a hard time getting the network up and running, even if only for a couple of hours.
She happened to see a familiar face in the proximity of the hangar elevator and walked up to him, saluting as soon as she had his attention.

“Good morning, Colonel. At least I hope that yours was better than mine.” She involuntarily rubbed her side, and while doing so, her mood made her smile and say, “May I suggest that, next time, we make a contract about candles, too?”

"Well if I'm ever given the task of making a Battlestar, I will forgo from civilian contractors and just commission a bunch of Academy Cadets to build me one," Ethan muttered as he continued his tour of the flight deck.

"If the Command Navigation Program on the Rhea is any indication, I've got a feeling there may be problems with the new Vipers and Raptors. I want you to team up with the deck crews and systematically check each bird we've got. Just as a precaution. I don't want any of our pilots to have sudden power failures while they are out there flying."

Ethan stopped suddenly and ducked underneath the wing of the Viper. Inspecting the open panel on the Viper, Ethan got down on a knee and looked at the CAG. "If you see anything you don't like, the call is yours. I've got a feeling I'm going to have enough to deal with for the next few days."

She grinned at his silent remark, now sure that they were both equally bad-tempered. Because of that, she said nothing at first and just followed the XO around, taking in his suggestions and orders, though they were rather the latter. When he was sure to be finished, Elena spoke: "The same thought crossed my mind a couple of minutes ago. And I didn't like it, either. I don't really know much more about the CNP than how to use it, the same as every pilot. But if they gave us a frakked-up version, so to speak, maybe it would be smarter to get rid of it, instead of trying to fix it by all means, and re-install the whole program. I just had the impression that whenever one problem was solved by the CIC's crew, three new errors occurred and caused another crash of all the ship's systems."

She lifted her hand and touched the cold metal of the Viper they were next to. It was smooth and impeccable, the absolute opposite of its interiors. Never been in the air...
"It might be a good to let the Air Group perform some CAPs without the CNP", she murmured. Once Elena realized that she had spoken out the thought, she went on, firmer: "You never know. Could be that we will have to deal with more incidents like this in the future, if it starts off like this. Therefore, reminding them of Flight School, landing and flying hands-on, only with basic electronic support... I mean, we're good to stay in the dock for another week, so we might as well give them a task. It's better than sitting around."

The Colonel nodded his head in agreement as they continued the short tour of the hanger bay. "Alright then, make it so," Ethan said as he stopped in front of another Viper.

--------------------

Walking out of the maintenance bay straight onto the flight deck, Graff looked around at all the people scurrying about, most of them in uniform. Finally spotting who he was looking for, Graff set off in their direction, aware of all the odd looks he attracted along the way. He was wearing a t-shirt, his hair was unkempt and he was unshaved, yet no one said anything to him while he traversed the flight deck, only stopping in front of the CAG. She'd been informed about his situation, but there was nothing she could do about it either. Graff saluted sharply, and trying to ignore the look on here face when she saw his attire, said:

"Pardon me ma'am, but is there anyway I could move into the brig until I get an actual bunk?"

"You could try assaulting a superior officer," interrupted a voice from a nearby Viper. "Why not give the CAG a lump on the chin, or the XO for that matter?"

John Nagala was busy with his hands under the Viper's wing, investigating and making alterations. His right arm was in up to his elbow and the sound of wires and steel cable bending and snapping was quite audible, should one be listening.

He was used to people not responding immediately after he spoke. He wasn't sure what it was. Was it the shock of someone usually so quiet suddenly talking, or was it the know-it-all smartass tone of voice in which he spoke? It remained a mystery.

"Then again, I tried that and all it did was earn me a slap on the wrist. I guess you're going to have to shoot someone. Hey - I volunteer."

"Pardon me, ma'am," he said, glancing at the CAG. "I'd salute, but..."

He gestured with his free hand to the Viper Wing that encompassed his arm and shrugged insincerely. Turning back to his work, he finally found the piece that he wanted and gave a heavy tug. When it wouldn't budge, he picked up one foot and placed it firmly on the underside of the Viper and used it to increase his pull's strength. With a sudden 'pop!' the piece came loose and slipped out. The pilot's reaction wasn't quick enough and he fell hard on the deck. The wind was knocked out of him and it took him a moment to come to his senses.

"Don't everybody rush to help me up," he snorted.

He stood back up, eying the piece he'd removed with a trace of satisfaction and a large dose of bruised ego.

"Well," he said. "I guess this Viper's mine now. In case anyone's wondering, I took the liberty of removing the faulty CNP box from my plane now rather than later. Real pilots don't need that crap anyways."

He chucked the piece in a pile of odds and ends and saluted with a greasy-coated hand.

"So long, ma'am! Colonel."

And with that, he quickly turned around, reached a hand up to his Viper, and wrote the words "Drifter was here" on the nose in axle grease then, promptly, left the hangar bay. As he walked out, he whistled an old Mariner's tune that he believed had something to do with freedom or light-houses or something like that.

She wasn't used to being caught like that, somewhat dumbfounded. But it was unbelievable that anybody could be stupid enough to show this kind of impudence. And he didn't care at all, didn't flinch or second guess; he just went on, ripping the CNP out of the Viper. Elena couldn't deny that she had wanted to do the same thing, to get the box out of every ship and fix them. But that didn't mean that everybody could do whatever they pleased. And by the time he had walked past her, up the stairs, towards the hallway, she had decided that this time, no matter what his name was, would cost him. This time, she would give him a final warning, if nothing else.

"Excuse me, Sir", she said, trying to hide the boundless anger that made her clench her fists, "I think that one of my pilots needs to... be dealt with. Immediately." She gave him a salute, then turned to Graff, surprised that she found the composure to give him an answer, after all.
"I'm sorry for that. I will kick the technicians' asses as soon as I meet them. As for the Brig... That depends on how he'll behave."
With that, she turned around and followed Nagala.

"But I.." Jim pleaded after the CAG, but she was already up the stairs and the noise of the flight deck covered his voice. "..I want the brig."

Maybe I should deck someone, he mumbled, glaring at the XO who was standing a couple of meters away, checking over a clipboard. Nah, not worth it, not again. Graff shook his head and started slowly walking back across the flight deck, towards the pilots ready room, to shower and change.

--------------------

This Joint Post Made By:

Ethan Knight
Elena Vance
James Graff
John Nagala

T-2 Days - 0801 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – A corridor near Port Flight Deck

"NAGALA!", Captain Vance yelled, once she spotted his back and greased up arm at the other end of a corridor. A couple of deckhands that were standing in between them winced, turned their heads and hurriedly left the hallway, once they saw her cold facial expression and the even more frightening, burning glare in her eyes.

John wasn't surprised to hear the CAG's voice behind him as he walked through the hall. It wasn't the first time, and he doubted seriously if it would be the last. He turned around slowly and looked her up and down. He wished he had a cigarette right then. This chick looked like a real ball-breaker.

She walked up to him, looking into his eyes, expecting nothing but the look he gave everybody, that he didn't have to care about 'their' rules, that he could do whatever he pleased, provoking them and facing no consequences except reassignment, all because of his last name. But she certainly wouldn't let him have his way with her.

"Tell me: What were you thinking?" she asked, her voice tuned down to a whisper, but with wrath that seemed to reverberate in the air.

"That you wouldn't have to show any respect, but could just go on ripping the electronics out of a Viper and soil it up before riding into the sunset? If so: Do you seriously believe that I would let it pass and give you the feeling that your father's name would make any kind of punishment impossible? Cause then, you're mistaken."

"Not at all, ma'am. In fact I--"

Before he could finish the sentence, she interrupted him sharply:

"I'm not done yet. I listened on the deck and now you're the one to prick your ears: I don't give a frak, who your father is. It might be impossible to kick you out of the fleet because of him... but I'm still your superior officer. I'm the CAG. I'm the one who decides who's going to fly, who will be a wingman and who's going to help out on the flight deck for a month."

Her voice's volume had reached a normal level. But now, there seemed to be discrepancy. While she spoke in a rather friendly tune and didn't seem like she would beat him to the ground anymore, her eyes were still glistening dangerously.

"And you can bet your ass that I have the authority to get you into the Brig for a couple of days, if you don't stick to the rules. The Admiral might get you out after some time, but till then, I don't have to worry about you. And I would do it over and over, rather stand up to him, than doing this job with you constantly fracking up like today. If you want to play it rough, you can have that. Got it?"

He looked around, trying to see who was in the hall with them. There were a few deckhands, a civilian contractor, and a bunch of officers in training. He glared at them. If there had been anyone of merit he might've decked her right then and there. Get himself a day in the brig, maybe a court martial... Nah. That wouldn't happen.

He decided to play along for the moment. There was little he could do just then that would've been worth a cold uncomfortable sleep in the brig compared to a cold uncomfortable sleep in his rack.

"Yeah... Sure, I got it. Is that all sir?"

"No", she said in a matter-of-fact tone. If he believed that she would let it go at that, a little talk and nothing behind it, she would prove him wrong. He had already done enough to earn a small penalty.

"First, you're going to wash your arm. Then, you'll immediately return to the flight deck. As you are so talented in ripping CNP boxes out of Vipers, you're going to lend the deck crew a hand, as soon as I had a talk with the Chief. Don't worry, I'll make sure that you'll be busy for... let's say, the next two day. Oh, and...", the Captain seemed to remember something and a soft smile spread on her face, "...ask Lieutenant Graff where he was resting since he arrived. You're going to swap your 'racks' until the technicians fixed the life support in the duty locker he would usually sleep in. I'm not sure where he came from , but I suppose that it was really close to the hangar deck. Even better for you: You can work until your logy and don't have to worry about a long way home."

Drifter glared at the woman.. the CAG.. whatever. She was shorter than he was and not as muscular. He could probably whup her in a fight no problem. Nonetheless she had something over him. Something that he rarely felt for anyone in the frakked up military. She had a genuine command presence. He could almost respect that.

"Fine," he said sharply. "It's about frakkin' time someone got those CNPs out of our birds anyways. Might as well be me. As for the rack, Graff can have it. It stinks anyways."

He turned and started walking away, towards the pilot's ready room to wash up. He was done talking to her, and as far as he could tell she was done with him. She'd accomplished her goal; humiliate and punish. That was the law of the military - the law of his father.

Everything on this frakkin' ship stinks.

"One more thing!" Her voice sounded after him, before he had reached the corner. "Seriously, you look like you need... no... want a beating. And I'm willing to offer it to you. That is, if you dare to assault a superior officer who sees it coming. A fair fight instead of a bar brawl. I'll be waiting for your invitation, if you have the guts."
Giving his back a last look, she went back to the flight deck.
I wonder why he has this damn attitude... He causes all the trouble but looks at me, as if I was reprimanding him for no reason at all. She shook the thought off.
"Bastard," she murmured. He even manages to give me a bad conscience about it.

--------------------

Graff pushed the bulkhead open and lazily stepped in. The room was empty, but at least the lights were working, as were the showers. He picked up a towel and walked over to the sinks on the far wall to spray some water on his face and hopefully wake up. The bulkhead slammed open again and Jim looked up from the sink to see Nagala walking in, obvously pissed off. Then Graff remembered how the CAG had stormed after him earlier, and quickly put 2 and 2 together.

"At least did you deck her?" He grinned "Cause I never got the chance.. though by the look on your face I'd say this round goes to her."

Graff looked back into the mirror in front of him and ran a hand through his beard. Looks like I'll need a shave as well.. He picked up a razor while still waiting for a response from the other pilot.

John hadn't expected Graff to be there. It was a cruel reminder of his new sleeping arrangements. For a moment, he puzzled on how the other pilot had beat him there and guessed that he must've left right after he had and taken an alternate route. The time he'd spent conversing with the CAG had taken longer than he thought.

"I thought about it," he admitted. "But it didn't seem worth it. Some other time maybe."

He joined the other man at the sink but, rather than use it, hoisted himself up onto the counter and sat back, arms crossed.

"So, where have they been keeping you? You look like shit."

The beard was slowly but surely getting cut down and Graff was starting to recognize the man he saw in the mirror. Dipping his razor under the water jet to clean it he looked back at Nagala.

"Well, It's a lovely place down by the flight deck known as maintanance bay 4. Great neighbourhood, crappy living conditions." He shaved off another swath of facial hair then continued. "Every morning at 8 AM a team of mechanics comes in for work.. I've heard broken engines that make less noise than those people." He chuckled remembering his reaction the first morning they woke him up. "Besides, I tend to spend most of the night in the rec room. And you know you cant stay in the rec room and not have a drink, right? So considering the booze and the lack of sleep I'd say I look pretty damn good."

Finishing with the razor, Graff put it down and splashed water on his face to clean off any remnants of the beard. Finally satisfied with the results, he threw the towel over his shoulder and headed for the showers down the hall.

"Anyway, I'm gonna hit the showers. Gotta get the smell of motor oil and metal shavings off'a me."

"Right," said Nagala.

I knew it would stink too.

He pushed off from the sink counter and turned a faucet. Hot water started streaming out and he stuck his hand under it, scooping it up and onto his arm. The grease ran down into the stainless steel basin and down the drain.

"Oh - by the way," he said, finishing up and turning off the water.

"CAG says you get my bunk until they've got 'em all ready. I guess that's my good luck, huh? Congratulations. Anyways, just a warning - the guy above you talks in his sleep about raping and pillaging. I'm sure it wont bother you though, since you'll hardly be able to hear it over the sound of Jackson snoring."

He moved over to the hatch.

"Oh yeah, and if you can figure out what that stain on the matress is, I'd be real curious to know."

And walked through it, slamming it shut behind him. He looked around, wanting to avoid his new job on the flight deck until the Bitch was long clear of it. He wandered around the halls, trying to figure out where he could get a cigarette.

Graff had stopped in his tracks when he heard the word 'bunk', and taken in everything Nagala said after that. The bulkhead slamed shut and he was still standing there, with a satisfied look on his face and a weight off his shoulders.

Man, you really should've decked her for this one.

He smiled and continued down the hall to the showers.

--------------------

This Joint Post Made By:

Elena Vance
John Nagala
James Graff

T-2 Days - 0805 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port Flight Deck

Walking through the Corridor's towards the flight deck, Alex was amazed at the amount of work still being done, the ship was meant to launch in less then a week according to the grapevine back at the barracks. He walked through a hatch and emerged into the upper landing of the Flight pod. Reaching the area where a group of people were gathering, Alex found a ladder down and reached the group in a matter of seconds. Looking at the people he saw the XO. Dropping his bag he looked towards him and Saluted.

"Sir! Ensign Alexander Sola reporting for duty."

Ethan averted his eyes from the clipboard he was just handed and spared the Ensign a quick once over before returning to it and signing off on a transfer of supplies. "Relax Ensign," he said as he handed the clipboard back to the deckhand. "I'm not going to throw you in the brig just because you didn't make a snappy appearance."

Turning back to look at the Ensign, Ethan observed him quietly for a moment before nodding his head. "What are you here for Ensign?"

Alex stood at ease and felt a bit odd at the slightly relaxed attitude of the XO. Thinking of the best way to answer, Alex straightened his uniform.

"I felt that it was best for an officer to report to his commanding officer's.

Ethan rolled his eyes as the Ensign didn't seem to get what he was trying to say. "I know why your here reporting to me Ensign. I want to know why you are here," he said while gesturing his hand around the flight deck. "The crew manifest is a little large if you haven't noticed and I have not yet gotten around to memorizing it. What is your purpose here aboard this ship?"

If Alex was one to blush he would have at this point of no getting such a simple point.

"Sorry sir. I am the Tactical Officer. I will not allow myself to be mislead in such a way again."

Bringing himself back up to a more at attention stance, he knew he had made his first mistake.

Ethan nodded his head and said no more as he continued to walk around the flight deck. After about a minute, he turned back to Sola. "Well, drop your bags Ensign. Might as tour the flight deck as you wait for the Commander," Ethan said as he continued to pace and wait for the Commander.

--------------------

A little exhausted, more mentally than in a physical way, Elena arrived at the end of the staircase again and looked around. Apparently, the Commander still wasn't there, which was even better for her. It would have felt like losing to Nagala, if his actions had made her look bad. Strong satisfaction warmed her chest when she thought of his facial expression. He hated it but he would follow her orders. Yet, Elena had no doubt that he would try to pay her back for his frack-up and the penalty he had to face for it because of her. None of my concern, at least for now. All in its proper time.

As it could take a while until the CO’s arrival, for whatever reason, she came to think of re-installation or, rather, removal of the CNP units and that she should meet the Chief, who she had not met during the ten days she was onboard. Her paperwork and planning had been troublesome, but as the Chief of the Deck was in charge of all the technical teams and, thereby, of maintaining the whole ship, it had to be a hell of a job, on this ship in particular. Maybe she’s got a free minute now…

Elena drew closer to a nearby young deckhand who seemed to be sorting out a couple of tools for a maintenance work somewhere else on the ship. Clearing her throat, she got his attention, making him jump up like a scalded cat and raising his hand for the salute with such a speed that she feared that he had hit himself.

“S-sir!”

"Um… At ease." His reaction had made her uncomfortable. "I just wanted to ask where the Chief of the Deck is."
He seemed almost relieved.

"Oh… She’s been in her office for a while… But now, I can see her, over there", and he pointed at woman with sandy blonde hair, a little smaller than the CAG, who was standing in the vicinity of the XO. And her looks made Elena awfully aware that she had been right: Compared to herself, with only a little lack of sleep and an edgy behaviour, which both barely showed on the outside, she looked terrible, like she hadn’t slept at all for a five days in a row.

"Thank you", she said, giving him a salute, not really paying attention to the "Sir!" that he responded, with another salute.

"You seem to have a hard time." It slipped out of her mouth once she stood next to the woman who the deckhand had pointed at. To her, it sounded better than a stupid question like: "Are you the chief of the deck?" Nobody else on this ship looked comparably tired. She offered her hand. "I’m sorry, I should introduce myself: I’m Vance… Elena. You’re the Chief, I’m the CAG, so why not talk in names rather than ranks?", she grinned. “I guess, out of all the people on this ship, including me, you’re the one who works the hardest.”

It took Tracey a moment to register that someone was talking to her. She had just run across the entire flight deck in an effort to reach the Commander's landing spot on time. As it turned out, it was the Commander who was running a few minutes behind schedule, not her.

"Uh..." she said blankly, trying to figure out what the proper response was. She was tired as frack and hadn't eaten in what must have been days. She probably looked like hell.

"Yes..." she got out at last. "Yes. Sorry, um... I'm Chief Petty Officer Graham, but please, call me Tracey. I'm sorry about my appearance and my lack of... umm... grace."

She tucked her report under her left arm and took the offered hand. The CAG was surprisingly soft-handed for a Viper Jock and looked considerably better-rested than Tracey. After two curt shakes, she released the hand and cleared her throat.

"So," she said. "Are you staying around for the Comma-"

And before she could finish her first intelligible sentence of the day, there was a loud bleep from the speakers overhead. Yellow lights started flashing all across the deck. She watched, too tired to offer any help, as her deck teams cleared everything out of the way and got into a rough and tumble square-shaped formation in the corner - waiting for further instruction - as the Port-Side Raptor lift system activated for the first time. The Commander had arrived.

Gods I hope this goes down without a hitch. Frakkin' Civilian Contractors better not have been messing with it after I spent how many hours fixing it?

She looked over to the CAG.

"We'll talk later. How about lunch? I haven't eaten an actual meal in days, I figure getting to know a coleague is a good enough excuse for it."

"Sounds good to me", Elena responded with a significantly louder voice to make it audible over all the sounds around them, smiling at her remark. Apart from the fact that being friends with the Chief was be important, as they needed each other to keep the Air Group up and running, she looked like she both required and strongly deserved a rest. But there was no time to give it deeper thought at that moment, as everybody around them was looking for his or her place in the rows of the blocks, and so had they.

----------

Ethan felt the anticipation rise as the lift from the landing deck came to a stop, revealing the Commander's Raptor. Looking around the flight deck, he saw the scattered crew and snapped into action.

"Crew of the Battlestar Rhea!" he yelled suddenly as he started to walk over to the front of the Raptor. "Fall in! Block formation on the double!"

Upon hearing the XO order the tight formation, Alex kicked his bag behind him and stood in formation a little behind and to the left of the XO.

Elena walked up to the Raptor in a fast pace and took her place in the front row, right next to the XO and the CO of the Marines.

The last two metres of the slide down the ladder were accompanied by a cowardly, twisted grimace; Rylan's expression a perfect example of a man displeased in the knowledge of incoming and unavoidable discomfort. Oww... was the only thing he could think. Skirting along the edge of the hangar, behind the gaggle of crew, he slipped into both the accumulating air wing and a feeling of contentment - for the time being.

Ethan came to a stop in front of the opening as he observed the scattered crew come together to form multiple perfect blocks in front of the Raptor. The senior most officers taking their positions up front.

Nodding his head in satisfaction, Ethan turned on the ball of his foot to face the Raptor just as it's door opened. "A-ten-hut!" he said as he snapped to attention.

Alex's arm snapped to attention in a clean, crisp salute as the commander's raptor opened up.

The CAG tensed up her body, standing in attention, her eyes pointing straight at the Raptor's door.

Andreu noticed a CIC officer salute the Raptor; he reminded Rylan of how he looked as a boy. Barely out of school and so over zealous. On parade you do what the parade leader says and not a thing more. He smiled, both at the thought of being so green and an old memory. Just somthing an NCO told him once. I wonder if the CO is a killing officer, or a murdering officer? He looked straight ahead - but his eyes were aimed at the Raptor hatch.

--------------------

This Joint Post Made By:

Alexander Sola
Ethan Knight
Elana Vance
Tracey Graham
Andreu Rylan
Francis Cavil

T-2 Days - 0805 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port Flight Deck

The lift began to jolt into action and Cavil heard the familiar rumblings of the machinery grow in audibility as the atmosphere around them began to increase. He at last stepped out of the flight suit and placed it, folded, on the little bench to one side. He straightened his uniform and pressed it down against his body, tucking it in at the bottom.

The rumbling stopped and the Raptor began to depressurize, the atmosphere of the little craft mingling with that of the ship outside. The ECO pilot released her controls and turned around, at last taking a moment to speak to her passenger.

"Sir," she said cheerily. "We have arrived onboard the Rhea."

"Thank you, Captain," he replied politely.

"One more thing before you go, sir..."

"You'd better not say 'good luck'," he said, smirking.

"No sir. I'm sure you've had plenty of that. I just wanted to say that it was an honour escorting you today - and I'm glad you insisted on the manual landing. I feel like I need to pull one off every now and then just to remind myself I'm a capable pilot."

"Well," said the Commander. "I found the flight quite satisfactory. Thank you."

She nodded and the ECO grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"Now," he said in a final moment of humour before he disembarked. "Open up this damn hatch will you?"

The ECO flipped around in his chair obediently and pressed the control. There was a familiar metallic clink and a hiss of air. The little hydraulic motors began to whine ever so quietly and the hatch began to rise. Cavil stood by, watching it go up, in the best military shape he could muster with his old tired muscles.

At last, with a satisfying click, the hatch was raised. The Commander looked out on the assembled crew and smiled. For a moment, he forgot about his dark secrets, his covert mission, and the doom that would befall humanity in such a short time. This was his ship - his crew. He had earned it through hard work and dedication. Nobody could take that away from him.

He stepped down out of the Raptor and onto the deck, taking a few short strides over to the man he recognized as his new XO. The man was a good six inches taller than Cavil, but The Commander could sense the respect and loyalty emanating from his elevated form.

Cavil raised his arm in a salute and watched with satisfaction as the entire assembled crew followed his example in unison. After a few moments, he spoke.

"At ease," he said and watched as the arms floated downwards.

"Today," he said, speaking to the whole crew, "is a fine day to be alive. Today we celebrate the birth of our new ship, the men and women who have worked so hard and so long to get it here, and the forging of a great new future. This is not just another ship, ladies and gentlemen. It is to be our new home.. and that makes us a family. A family works together and never quits on one another; never leaves anyone behind. We never give up on this ship, it's mission, or our crewmates. I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of you - all of you..."

He looked at the faces in front of him. He wouldn't forget them... Any of them.

"As of this moment, this crew is our family and this ship is our home. Let's take good care of her, shall we?"

Alex watched and listened closely to the man that was to be his Commander, the "father" of the family. He could see that the Commander had the experience and wisdom that was needed to turn this crew into a family over the course of its tour of duty. As he finished the speech Alex felt a feeling he hadnt for a while and before he could stop himself.

"So say we all!..... Sir!"

He added at the end after thinking about what he had said and to who he had said it.

He certainly doesn't know how many problems we're facing 'at home', does he? The thought flashed through her mind as the Commander spoke. There was nothing to criticize about what he said. Elena knew the purpose of his speech: He wanted to forge them together, give them, all of them, a feeling of unity, of solidarity. Yet, something about it had caused that thought. Was it the knowledge that Nagala would have said, or at least whispered those words, if he had been around? That, for itself, was probable but not the source of her discomfort. What's wrong with m-

A nearby voice interrupted the thought. She slightly turned her head to see the person from the corner of her eyes to realize that it was a young officer. Her lips formed an instinctive smile and she repeated, with a firm voice, forgetting about her thought:
"So say we all!"

Rylan closed his eyes, feeling tired to his core. The rousing chorus of heart felt fervor washed over him, but his lips did not part. It has all been said before - and it'll all be said again.

"So say we all!"

Cavil moved about the room, his hands busy shaking those of eager young officers fresh out of the academy - his words being exactly what they wanted to hear. They were excited, and rightly so. It wasn't everyday that one could find themselves aboard a brand new Battlestar preparing for its first launch. His eyes, however, traveled amongst the faces of the senior officers; those that had tasted war before, and those that knew all too well how vague his speech had been.

"So say we all!"

It's not going to be easy, he thought to himself. They all know it.

His eyes passed by an olive-skinned woman with dark hair who seemed unsure of the chant. He recognized her, but did not speak. It wasn't her fault that the speech was unmoving. He knew who and what she was. He wondered if she knew.

"So say we all!"

At last he reached the XO again and silently held out a hand. It was accepted, as was customary, and the two men exchanged glances. They both knew that more in depth discussion would come later. Just then was the time for pomp, tradition, and diplomacy. Cavil just smiled and nodded.

Ethan smirked in satisfaction as he eyed the Commander. Nodding his head in greeting, Ethan took two steps forward before turning around to face the rest of the crew on the flight deck.

"Crew of the Battlestar Rhea! Dismissed!"

The throng began to disperse, hushed conversations and whispers exploding from exited mouths, the gossip and questions of the new Commander. Rylan began to step out of the crowd, heading for any random space in the deck void of people, as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. As he brought up his lighter his eyes were drawn to the apex of the cigarette; specifically the broken and bent end. Delicately pushing the ripped end back into place, he lit it anyway, chuckling.

As Ethan observed the dispersing crowed quietly for a few seconds before turning around to face the Commander. "Welcome aboard the Rhea Commander."

John fumbled with the pack of cigarettes as he walked down the hallways of the Rhea. He'd finally found someone with a decent secret stash of fumarella - the ship's head cook. At last he got it open and slid one of the sticks out, slipping the pack into his pocket.

He knew he couldn't smoke in the hallways. It was the one rule he respected. A smoke wasn't worth triggering the ship's fire detection grid. He had no desire to get wet. He'd never really liked water much.

At last, he reached his destination - the Pilot's Rec.

"Gods," he said. "It's about damn time."

He swung the hatch inward and found the room deserted. Just the way he liked it. Everyone else was in the flight pod listening to the Commander speak. Who the frak cared? They all said the same thing. That they were proud of the crew and looking forward to a brave new future with them. It was crap - all of it. The Commanders were just one step below the Admiralty as far as apathy went.

Taking a seat at the farthest table, he propped his feet up on its smooth black surface and leaned back in his chair, finally pulling his lighter out and igniting his cigarette. He took a long drag and began counting.

1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5...

He exhaled, the smoke curling and contorting into beautiful abstract shapes in front of him. The overhead lighting added the perfect amount of contrast and softness to the smoke. Even the cynical Nagala could appreciate the artistic quality.

Leaning back, he let his eyes close and relaxation take hold. His mind began to wander... Maybe sleeping in the flight pod wouldn't be too bad. At least it would let him keep an eye on his Viper.

Vipers, he thought. Takes you back, doesn't it? Back in the Academy... Those were the days. The early morning drills, the crappy food... the girls.

He smiled. Now there was one thing that he liked about the military. All the women were in tip-top shape and just the right age to not care who they were frakking. There was little he appreciated more than a beautiful woman under each arm, and they weren't hard to find in the Fleet.

Sandra Hattsisava, he remembered. Now there was a woman. Shiiiiitt....

And then he fell asleep.

Alex just stood there and didn't move for a minute after everyone else had started to disperse. Still feeling as though he had over stepped his bounds slightly, he finally brought himself back to the real world and picked up his bag's.

Noticing the way the Commander and XO had left Alex decided to leave another way. Finding his way out he left the deck crew to their jobs. Pushing his way through the crowds, Alex finally managed to get to the deck where he thought his quarter's were. After nearly half an hour trying to find where he was he reached a computer terminal. He input his new code into the keypad and entered the query.

A few seconds later the screen died, then flashed back to life showing a blue trail to his quarter's. Shutting down the terminal, he moved towards the door and input the passcode he had spent the last week memorising. The door slid open and Alex was greeted by the dozen stacks of boxes that were all he owned. Dropping his bags by the door he walked up to the table in the middle of the room and shifted the 4 files that were sitting there enough to see their titles. Still nothing about a duty shift pattern. Deciding to get changed into a fresh uniform and head up to CIC Alex, pulled on the fresh uniform, made sure he was looking professional and he left.

He reached the CIC in a matter of minutes. Being his main place of work he had made sure he knew where it was. Saluting the Marines outside he waited as the glass door's opened, and he stepped through.

John woke up in a cold sweat. His dreams had turned from beautiful women to horrible twisted images of Vipers wiping out, their occupants burned beyond recognition. The hum of a Cylon visor chasing him in the darkness as he ran, panting, towards a cliff. His only escape were the wax wings attached to his arms, but as he took off from the cliff, he plumetted - the wings melting away in the brilliant black heat.

He remembered it all very clearly for a moment.. then, as all dreams do, it began to fade. He let it. It wasn't something he wanted to carry with him. His chest was pounding and his lungs ached as if he had just run a marathon.

"Frak," he said aloud and ran a hand through his now sweat-soaked hair.

"I gotta get out of this frakkin' job."

He looked around for a clock. It was 0830. The Commander would've finished his speech by now and left the mindless ants aboard the ship to get back to work. Half of Blue Squadron would be running a CAP probably. That's what the duty schedule called for, anyways.

Drifter stood up and walked over to the little fridge, opened it, found it to be empty. The cool air was refreshing, and he found himself leaning further and further in, letting his head cool off a little. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"I don't even want to know what you're doing in there," it said.

He stayed with his head in the fridge and responded, "Good. I don't want to tell you." There was a light kick on the door, and the edge gave him a nice little crack on the skull.

"Shit! What was that for?!" He pulled his head out and looked up at his tormentor. She was hot - scratch that... Beautiful. He checked her rank. Lieutenant, J.G.

Oh Lords of Kobol, he began in his head. What the frak did I do to deserve this wondrous gift?

He grabbed the table and pulled himself up, kicking the fridge door closed with his foot. She was standing there in a pilot's uniform, arms crossed, looking like a real live incarnation of Aphrodite, her short red hair falling around her perfectly feminine chin and brilliant green eyes staring at him through a halo of long black lashes.

He coughed.

"Uhhhh.... So," he stammered. "What's up?"

She smiled and shook her head, uncrossing her arms and walking past him, towards the back of the room and picking up his pack of smokes.

"You know you're not supposed to smoke on duty."

"On duty?" He scratched his head. Was he supposed to be on duty? No way. "I'm not on duty."

"Really? Because they've been calling your name over the shipwide for the last ten minutes. I guess you were busy.. cooling off, though, huh?"

"Wha-?! Frak!" He ran over to the chair and grabbed his flight jacket off it, hurriedly slipping it on inside out. Maybe he wasn't the greatest officer ever, maybe he hated his job, but he definitely didn't want to face the wrath of the CAG again this soon.

"Do I look ok? What are you smiling about? You think this is funny?" he asked, desperately trying to pull himself together.

Then she laughed.

"Sorry," she said through her musical giggles. "I'm just yankin' your chain. Couldn't help myself. We're not on duty for another couple of hours."

She pulled out a smoke and tossed him the pack. He wasn't sure whether to feel stunned, angry, or relieved. Whatever he felt, he needed another cigarette. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the table, taking his seat again. He pulled out the lighter and lit his own smoke, then, upon her insisting hand motion, hers.

She took a long drag from it and puffed it out in his general direction, still chuckling to herself.

"That wasn't funny."

"Yes it was."

"Fine... Maybe it was funny. But don't do it again, all right.." He glanced at her flight suit. "Phoenix."

"All right. Can't blame a girl for having some fun though," she said.

"Maybe not, but I could punish you."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

More than you know.

There was a moment of silence as each of them sat there, eying eachother and smoking. John put one foot up on the table, then the other over top of it. She took a seat and leaned her chair back against the bulkhead. The room's overhead lights buzzed.

"So," she said at last. "What's your callsign? Spacer? Airhead? Smokey?"

"Drifter."

"Nice. How'd you get it?"

"I never stay long at any one assignment. I tend to 'drift' from ship to ship, you know... I'm a drifter."

"Not bad," she said.

"How 'bout you? Where'd you get 'Phoenix'? Your buddies back at the Academy?"

"No," she rolled her eyes. "I got that on my first assignment. I was workin' out of a Defender - the Warhorse. We picked up on some pirates down by the Picon Pass and decided to take 'em down. Turned out to be a bigger operation than we thought."

She took another drag from her cigarette and held it in for a moment, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

"I nearly bought it in the opening skirmish. Damn Pirates decided to try their luck against a Defender and a full squadron of Vipers. My plane got hit and I went down, crash landed in the Southern Expanse... You know, the big desert on Picon?"

John nodded his head, pretending he knew what she was talking about.

"Anyways, everyone thought I was dead. Turns out," she said, patting her ribs proudly, "that I emerged from the wreckage - from the flames, so to speak. You know, like a Phoenix."

"I guess your story beats mine," he said, genuinely impressed.

"You bet your ass it does," she smiled.

"Want to get some booze for this place? I bet it's dryer than the.. What was it? Southern Expanse."

"Are you frakkin' kidding me?" she said. "I've been with you on that since before we met. Let's go!"

He watched her as she got up, his eyes following her swinging hips. Then, like a puppy, jogged after her towards the mess hall, tongue wagging with excitement.

Maybe this ship aint so bad, he told himself.

T-2 Days – 0815 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Port Flight Pod

The crew had been dismissed and had begun to disperse. Some stuck around to talk to eachother, meet their crewmates, establish the bonds of friendship. Others got back to work, or ran off to get much needed rack-time. Some simply slunk away.

"Colonel Knight," said Commander Cavil, walking over to the Executive Officer.

"It's a pleasure to really meet you this time," he continued. "Our first acquaintance was brief, but I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to get to know one another in the years to come. Right now I think there are some important matters we should discuss between just the two of us."

He began walking towards the nearest corridor, ushering the Colonel along with a hand on his back.

The intimidating sight of a Commander and Colonel walking down the corridors of a Battlestar is one to behold. Crewmembers hastily departed to the edges of the hallway to let the duo through.

"Of course sir," Ethan answered as he walked slightly behind and to the right of the Commander. "I don't believe that we have really had the chance to get to know and understand each other yet, which is very important for people in our positions."

"You're very right, Colonel," said Cavil.

"What would you like to know?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow as they turned a corner. "Well, for starters sir, I'd like to know what you expect of me as your Executive Officer."

"That's a broad question," responded The Commander with a smile.

"I expect you to do your job. Keep the crew in line. Back me up when I need it. You are to be the eyes and ears that I'm too busy to have. We need to operate together, as a team, as a single entity - however you wish to perceive it - in order to take care of this crew. We're like the mommy and daddy of this ship - this household - and the crew are our children. They expect us to be here to tell them what to do, and we need to make sure that we are capable of doing so and that they will listen to us and follow our orders when we need them to."

"Think of it like we're married," he said.

"Speaking of which, Colonel, are you married?" he already knew the answer. Ethan Knight, Colonel, Family; Engaged, One daughter, but he felt like asking anyways.

Ethan smiled absently at the mention of marriage. "No sir, not yet," he answered as they started to climb a set of stairs. "I'm engaged and set to marry during my next leave after the Rhea's maiden voyage. In matter of fact my fiance and our daughter will be here for the christening. I'd be happy to introduce you to them once they come aboard," he said with a wistful smile.

"Good, good," said Cavil. "I'd very much like to meet them."

They rounded another corner, and The Commander could see his quarters coming up ahead. He nodded at a saluting deckhand.

"So, tell me Colonel, are you a religious man?"

Ethan furrowed his eyebrows as he thought for a second. "Moderately sir," he answered simply. "I believe in the gods. I believe we need to pay them respect every now and then. But I do not believe that we need to devote our whole lives to them."

"Why do you ask?"

"It's a curiosity of mine," responded The Commander, simply. "I'm interested in religion.. what people believe and why. I'm not entirely sure the reason for my interest... Perhaps the creators intended for me to question existence. I can't imagine why."

With that, they reached the hatch to his quarters. He grabbed the latch and pulled the door open.

"After you, Colonel," he said, gesturing with his free hand.

"Thank you sir," Ethan said as he walked into the room. Stopping in the middle of the room. "Tell me sir, I've been wondering," Ethan said as he turned around to face the Commander. "Did you choose me as your XO. Or was I just shoved onto you?"

Cavil let out a small laugh. It was rare that he allowed this to happen, but at times he felt it was necessary. Humans found it so oddly comforting.

"Well," he said. "I suppose it was some of one and some of the other. I was given a list of candidates to chose from - not an insubstantial list either, I might add. I read carefully and tried to remember who I had met, when I had met them, and what they had been like. I remembered you being very.. polite.. and dignified. I respect that. There's a time for fun and games, but when it comes down to it I need a man who can crack the whip and manage the reigns without treating it like a joke."

"I suppose it's possible I made a mistake, but something tells me I chose the right man for the job."

He reached out a hand and patted the Colonel on the back.

"Come on, Ethan," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "Loosen up a little. You've got the position, don't feel like you've still got to compete for it. All I ask is that you do your job."

He took a seat at his new desk, the flat surface made of clear glass mounted atop a beautifully designed black cabinet system. Efficient and elegant. He liked that. All of his belongings were stacked in neat little boxes around the office, but he ignored the clutter. Everything would be set up later. He still had another day.

He watched as Knight sat down across from him.

"So," he said, letting out a sigh. "I guess it's about time we addressed some more important issues."

"Of course sir," Ethan said as he leaned forward onto his knees. "I think the most pressing issue right now is the Command Navigation Program."

"Don't tell me," responded The Commander. "It's not working."

"It's been malfunctioning for the past 48 hours or so. I am not sure why, but I believe that the Civilian Contractors may have messed up somewhere during the installation. I've called for a consultant from Integral Systems Engineering, they should be here by 1000 tomorrow," Ethan explained. "However from the looks of things, we may have to wipe the program from the computers tomorrow and reinstall it over the course of the next week," he finished as he sat back in the chair.

Cavil shook his head and drummed his fingers on the desk surface.

"You know, that program has been haunting us for quite some time now. Since it's original conception, nobody was sure whether it would work - whether it would be able to perform its intended function. If it fails, everything could be lost..."

He looked at Knight.

"Do you know what I mean?"

Ethan nodded his head. "Of course sir. I never liked the idea of power being centralized. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"Anyways... The Admiralty has made a decision regarding the future of the CNP program aboard new vessels. The Rhea here is going to be their first full-scale test of the CNP Program on a new vessel - no refitting required. If it cannot be made to operate by the first launching of the vessel, it is to be entirely removed in favour of a new network system which, so far, exists only in proposals. Needless to say, countless taxpayer dollars are resting on our shoulders... I personally would prefer a completely non-networked ship. It feels like we're making a mistake to me. There was nothing wrong with the old days - phones with cords, computers with keyboards and messengers running news to the Commander on pieces of paper."

"Almost seems like we're trying to get the Cylons back on our asses, don't you think?"

Ethan laughed lightly as he looked at the Commander. "Technological progress isn't the problem. Never was. The problem was prejudice. We created intelligent beings and expected them to serve as slaves. Thus we treated them like slaves," Ethan explained. "You take a bunch of human beings, enslave them and see what you get. A recipe for revolution."

"Yes of course," responded Cavil. "But don't forget - it was technological progress that allowed them to attack us so easily in the first place. Slaves may revolt, but it takes a cybernetic monster to hack into a ship's network and suck the air out, killing everyone inside. Our mistake wasn't enslaving the Cylons, it was giving them sentience. Without that, they may aswell have been vacuum cleaners with a few extra responsibilities."

The irony of their conversation did not fail to impress itself upon Cavil, but he didn't mind. The topic was interesting, and he found it fascinating how the two of them seemed to be arguing for the opposite sides. Of course, he would be the only one between them to find it amusing for this irony, but that didn't matter.

"It's because of this problem that we designed the Battlestars to be as technologically simplistic as possible. Now we're reversing that. We're playing right into the Cylon's hands - should they ever choose to return and strike down their former masters once and for all. Now don't tell me I'm the only one that finds that disturbing."

Ethan let go a short chuckle and shook his head. "Just because there is a risk to an action doesn't mean we shouldn't take it. If we followed those rules throughout our existence we'd still be throwing spears at wild animals to feed ourselves. If we take that approach now we'd be frozen with the same technology for the rest of our existence. Meanwhile the Cylons will continue to evolve and one day they will come back. And when that day comes it will be no different the pitting a technologically advanced civilization against cavemen."

"We'll see about that," said Cavil, simply. Then, after a moment of thought, he added, "... Eventually."

Cavil knew that no matter what the Colonials did, the Cylons would always been ten steps ahead of them. The debate would only turn sour from that point, as it was hardly fitting for him to go into descriptions of the CNP backdoors, the irony of the whole discussion, and the eventual doom that faced humanity. It just wouldn't be proper. So, he changed the subject.

"Anyways, Colonel, I didn't bring you here for a discussion on morals, technological development, and the will of the Cylons. As interesting as it is, I think there are more important matters to discuss... I've heard some rumours going around that one of the Civilian Contractors - a Mr. Ansley, I believe - has been particularly rough on the female members of our crew, is that correct?"

"Yes sir," Ethan said nodding his head. "I've heard several reports. However I have yet to look into the manner."

"Well, I'd like you to look into it as soon as possible. The last thing I want the day before the ship's launch is a conflict between the CNP specialists and the crew. If he needs to be replaced, feel free to do so without my involvement. I'll take care of things on the home front - and by that I mean taking calls from the ISE comittees and the disgruntled union leaders."

Cavil pursed his lips and stuck his hands behind his head, feeling the familiar coarse hair and the dry skin on the back of his neck.

Why did they make me so damn old? he pondered silently.

"I think we'll take a break from this business," he said at last. "I don't know about you, but I've got a hell of a lot of paperwork to get done before we ship out, and most of the other problems with this ship can be worked out after our launch. Check up on Ansley and report anything else important back to me. It was nice getting to know you a little better, Colonel."

He held out a hand.

"I trust we'll make an excellent team - just so long as you promise to agree with me some of the time," he added with a wink.

"I'll check up on Ansley before the end of my shift sir," Ethan said as he stood up. "And as for agreeing with you... Don't expect me to be obedient all of the time," he finished with a smirk.

"It was nice meeting you Commander," he said shaking Cavil's hand. Taking two steps back, Ethan gave a quick salute, before leaving the Commander's Office.

--------------------

This Joint Post Made By:

Francis Cavil
Ethan Knight

The Commander watched as his XO stood up and walked out the door. As the hatch shut, Cavil immediately stood up and stretched. He didn't want to admit it, but his old bones were beginning to stiffen up and the long ride on the Raptor hadn't helped.

He looked around his blank office, boxes full of personal belongings stacked all over the place. They'd been shipped over in advance, before he had even left his comfortable home on Aerelon to catch his ride up to the orbital station.

He walked over to the first stack of boxes and put out a hand, about to open it. Then he thought better of it and headed over to his phone. He was pleased to see that it had been installed with a cord, as he had requested. Picking it up, he felt the weight of it, listened to the near-silent hiss that the wiring generated. Then, he spoke.

"Commander Cavil to CIC."

There was a pause, then a light click.

"Sir."

"To whom am I speaking?"

"Petty Officer Second Class Zubin Ream, sir. Communications Officer."

"Excellent," responded The Commander. "Please inform Ensign Sola upon his arrival that I have requested his presence in my office as soon as possible."

"Is that all sir?"

"No." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and scanned it quickly. "Mr. Ream, would you please tell me whether this conversation is being recorded?"

"It is, Sir. Would you like me to-"

"Yes."

"One moment..."

There was another pause, then a beeping tone that lasted for several seconds. When it stopped, the Communications Officer was back on.

"Thank you. From now on, please ensure that all incoming and outgoing messages along the following frequency are routed through my office only and are not to be monitored or recorded in any fashion. This is to be a direct communication line to Fleet Headquarters and, as such, must remain strictly private. Do you understand?"

"Yes... Sir."

"The frequency is 2-4-4-8-7-1-0. Please repeat."

"I hear 2-4-4-8-7-1-0. Is that correct, Commander."

"Yes. That is correct. Thank you, Mr. Ream."

"Glad to help, Commander. Is there anything else?"

"No. Please direct Ensign Sola to my office when he gets there. That is all."

He hung up the phone and flexed his fingers. Then he moved over to the box again and pulled it open. Looking inside, he pulled out the small rounded white device and examined it. It did not appear to be damaged. With a sigh, he rotated the small central orb and depressed it. There were three distinct beeps and then the machine turned silent. Walking back over to his desk, Cavil slipped the device up against the backboard near the base where it would not be seen...

--------------------

Walking around the CIC, Alex could see a dance of chaos but grace in the way the CIC staff and the civilian contractor's moved trying to get the ship ready for launch. He had almost reached his station, after the short look around, when a young Petty officer ran up towards him.

Ream: "Sir, are you Ensign Sola?"

Giving the Young man, which to Alex felt a tad ironic given Alex's age, a 'watch who your talking' to look.

"Yes, I am Petty officer."

The petty officer looked slightly relived to find him, and Alex merely stood there to see if there was anything else or if he was just the poor guy that had drawn the short straw to ask the new guy in CIC who he was.

"Sir, the Commander has requested your presence in his office at once."

Alex felt a half smile coming on, which was weird as it felt as if he was being sent to the principle's office. Looking over to see who the Officer of the Deck was, Alex turned back to the Petty Officer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Petty Officer Second Class Zubin Ream, Sir."

"Thank you Petty Officer Ream. Will you please let the Officer of the Deck know that I was here and I'll be back."

"Yes, sir!"

Alex walked out of CIC with a commanding presence. Trying to remember the way to the CO's quarter's was a bit annoying as Alex knew that they were close. After 5 minutes he finally found them. He could tell that he was right as two Marines were taking station outside. Walking up to them, he said,

"The Commander has sent for me. I'm Ensign Sola."

The marines half looked at each other before one turned towards the door.

"Sir. We have an Ensign Sola here."

Alex stood waiting to meet the CO in person.

--------------------

The intercom buzzed and, for a moment, Cavil almost forgot that until the ship was launched two marine guards were supposed to be keeping watch duty outside his office. He stood up and pressed a button on his phone base.

"Sir. We have an Ensign Sola here."

"Thank you," he said, then added, "I'll be out in a moment."

He released the button and walked over to the door, flexing his forehead as he moved, trying to release some of the tension that came from reading reports of system malfunction after system malfunction.

If that damned CNP isn't working in two days, he told himself. I'm going to have a hell of a time on my hands.

He reached the door and released the lock, pulling it inwards and trying his best to look in good spirits. There was the young Tactical Officer, looking proud of himself and at the same time a little intimidated. Cavil didn't blame him. He'd faced a few Commanders in his day, and you could never tell whether they were out to pat you on the back or decapitate you.

"Come in, Ensign," he said. "Please, try to make yourself comfortable. I haven't had time to really clear up any of this mess yet, so you'll have to improvise."

With that, he shut the hatch and allowed it to lock behind him.

Alex walked through the hatch and quickly scanned the room.

"That's ok Sir, if I may say so. With the current state of the ship, that I have seen so far, I'm sure our quarters are going to be the least of our problems."

"That's what I hear."

Finding a place to sit down, Alex sat down and tried to keep his eye's fixed as firmly as he could on the commander's face.

"I'm sure you have a lot on your agenda, so should we cut to the chase? What was it that you wanted sir?"

Alex hoped that he wasn't too forward, but also hoped that he was, as a Tactical Officer needed to show he had the bottle to stand up and voice his opinions when needed.

"You're correct, Ensign. Commanding a Battlestar is not an easy job, and considering that I only have a little over a day left to get this ship ready for its launch, efficiency is going to be near the top of my game plan. I do, however, need to put the safety of this crew as my number one priority, as I'm sure you know."

He stayed standing, picking the occasional item out of a box and placing it on a shelf or his desk.

"With that in mind, I need to know whether or not this ship is combat ready. The problems with the CNP are affecting all the ship's systems, and I have to know that we will be able to function should we need to engage an enemy. You, as the Tactical Officer, should have the best idea as to this ship's capabilities. Now, I know I didn't give you much time on the bridge, but I'm sure you received the same data packet the majority of the senior staff did a few weeks ago and have been reviewing it."

He pulled a framed painting out of a large box and held it up to look at it. It showed three Vipers grazing the thin clouds over a Scorpian mountain range. On the nearest Viper, one could make out the little details... A piece of the nose chipped away, or perhaps shot off.. tick marks along the side representing Cylon kills during the war. He walked over to the wall behind his desk and looked for an appropriate place to hang it.

"So," he said. "Tell me. Is my ship ready to fight?"

Alex sat listening, and was truly shocked by the question. Trying to remember everything he had read about the Mecury Class's and the CNP. He came up with what, he hoped, was a resonable explination.

"Well we have all of our defensive system's installed. Our armor, weapons and sensor systems are ready with the exception on the damn CNP so i'd have to say that as of right now i'd say we were in no fit shape to even leave Dry Dock. However if we were to purge the CNP completely, restart the ship's computer's and tie in our back up reactor's to the defensive system's, we would be able to defend ourself's if the situation arrived."

Trying to look as confident as he could that his plan would work, Alex carried on.

"We wouldn't have the full inter-connectivity of a network, but it would make the system stable. Asuming we could restart the entire ship in a day."

Finishing his explaination he thought he had better ask what he was thinking.

"Sir are you expecting us to be attacked?"

Alex finished and sat back watching the commander.

"What kind of Commander would I be if I weren't constantly expecting the unexpected?" answered Cavil without hesitating a beat. He'd been ready for the question.

"It's true, we haven't heard from the Cylons in forty years, and the smugglers and pirates are finally starting to realize that, without the Fleet's full attention on defending the colonies, their enterprises are getting harder and harder... But something within is always telling me to watch out - keep an eye open in my sleep..."

Alex just nodded in agreement, never holding such a high position he didn't know the pressure of command.

Cavil nodded slowly, then took a seat across from Sola.

"You know," he said. "We might learn something from our experience with the Cylons. If it taught us one thing it is to always be cautious of our own minds - our own creations. Some technological boundaries were never meant to be crossed."

"The CNP will be pulled tomorrow if it still isn't working properly. I want your backup defense system ready to go as soon as the CNP is removed - should that be a necessity. I don't like taking unnecessary risks, and I sure as hell wont leave this ship sitting around undefended. Can you have it ready to go by tomorrow, Ensign?"

Alex was suprised that the commander had taken the idea on board.

"Well I would need to talk to the Cheif engineer, but it wouldn't take much to divert the back up reactor's to the weapons grid, as I understand it anyway. But we will have the ability to transfer the power by the end of the night if we shall need it."

"Excellent, excellent... Please keep me up to date on your progress. Let me know if you're having any problems. The sooner we can have this ship running properly, the better."

Looking at the Commander, Alex felt that this was starting to come to an end.

"If there is nothing else Sir, I should start on the plan."

Alex sat waiting for the commander's response.

"That is all, Ensign. Thank you for reporting so promptly and for being so frank with me. I believe that we can make this work - and I'm sure you're a part of the solution."

Cavil stood up and ushered the young man over to the door and pulled it open. The Marines sprang to attention. The Commander gave the young Ensign a salute and shut the hatch behind him.

--------------------

This Joint Post Made By:

Francis Cavil
Alexander Sola

T-2 Days - 0811 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port Pilots Racks

''Knock, knock!'' The automatic doors slid open - half way, the sound of fresh, unlubricated metal grinding in his ears. He forced himself halfway through the gap. ''Hands off cocks and on with socks, or if you don't have...''

He glanced about, every bunk empty, fresh water dripping from a faucet, a locker gently swinging.

''Where the frak is everybody?''

The lights flickered, their rapid oscillations leaving a buzz in the air. Rylan gazed at the room for a long moment, feeling uneasy. He glanced back down the corridor, looking out for some imagined boogey-man.

''Ships got ghosts and I'm talking to myself in a room that's supposed to be filled with Sticks.'' He shook his head to himself, biting his tongue. ''Thats bad.''

Content he finally got all the metal shavings out of his hair, Graff turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped the towel around his waist and started walking down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Halfway through, he heard the bulkhead slam and a voice coming from the room ahead, so he hurried his pace. Entering the locker-room Graff looked at the other pilot and gave him a nod, suprised to see him alone, then headed for his locker. He'd seen the guy before, but wasnt sure where.

"So who were you talking to?" Jim scanned the pilot head to toe, and his eyes finally stopped on the man's rank. "..um, sir."

''Oh, just the half a dozen or so Sticks I was expecting to find in here - but you'll do in any case. Some idiot managed to cut his hand up while drinking yesterday - sliced a load of tendons in his wrist, real messy - so I need a body to fill his seat in the Oh-eight-thirty air patrol. And cut it with that sir crap, makes me feel like an old man.''

"Yes sir!" He laughed. "No seriously, I'll get right on it, needed to stretch my wings anyway." Graff opened the locker and took out his flightsuit. His new flightsuit, ship and squadron emblem already sowed on, with a smell of fresh poliester about it. He looked at it with disgust then turned back to Rylan.
"Speaking of old men, did the CO get here yet?"

''Yeah, he unloaded about five minutes ago.'' Bringing up his arm and frowning, Rylan noted his watch ticking over. If you don't hurry up we're gunna have about thirty seconds for flight prep, and I don't particuarly want the flight control officer to bitch to the CAG about a late launch.

"Alright, alright.." Graff pulled on a tshirt then got into his flight suit and zipped it up. "There, ready to dance now." He smirked heading for the hatch. "Who'm I flying with?"

Rylan edged toward the hatch and pushed it fully open, heaving against the faulty motors. ''You pulled the short straw and will have the great honour of staring at my rear exhaust ports for the next few hours.'' He strode outside and took a moment to look puzzled and stare both ways down the corridor a few times, Andreu waved his trigger finger to the left and set off towards the port hangar.

"Thats still better than watching the paint dry around here." He said following Rylan out of the room. "And I gotta tell you, paint dries really slowly on this ship."

They continued to walk down the corridor silently, and Graff started thinking out loud. "Cant wait to get back out there." He said stretching his arms "I havent touched a viper in nearly a month.."

Rylan didn't even turn his head to respond in the tired monotone. ''I'm glad I could give you this oportunity to stretch your wings.''

A moment passed before Andreu slowed and then stopped as he turned to look at Graff, sighing. ''It's just an air patrol. You'll get tired of it by the dozen thousanth you do.'' He finished the statement with a light shrug, before returning to his old walking pace.

"This isnt exactly my first tour either you know? but after being couped up for so long any flying is good flying."

The two finally reached the flight deck and Graff could see a couple of vipers being prepped for flight, so he headed in their direction.

Andreu pointed at the right hand Viper. ''Viper 21 is the spare bird for this flight. Since it ain't mine, that mean it's yours - for the time being.'' Sauntering over to his assigned mark seven, Rylan began examining the landing gear, eyes flicking over the mechanisms and into the gear well.

Rylan felt the heavy silence in the air - and the instinctive urge to fill it.

''The mark fives were better.''

Graff headed for the spare viper and ran his hand over its hull, then checked the guns and the ammo compartments.

"Well, they were more about the pilot and less about computers than these things." He said tapping on the viper. "I mean, no offence to these new jocks, but you could train a monkey to fly a mark seven."

Graff fininshed checking the landing gear, then climbed up the small ladder into the cockpit and started powering on the ship's electronics. The multipurpose screen lit up and Jim glanced over it.

"Heh, CNP still doesnt work."

Rylan grinned as he signed off on some paperwork handed to him by an NCO. ''It makes me sick how easy the fly-by-wire make this thing to fly.'' Climbing into his own pit, he snorted. ''You can cut the main drives completely in atmo and the damn bird will kick in the VTOL thrusters automatically to keep you in the air. Don't get me started on the over-reliance on computers for every single damn system - stuff that we used to just do with simple engineering and training.'' He clipped his glove seals and helmet closed, thumbing off to the deck crew to push them onto the deck elavators.

Graff took the helmet from a deckhand and put it on, then flipped a switch that closed the cockpit. Once the deckhands moved his viper on the elevator and stepped away he turned on the engines. The rumble of the powerplant behind him grew in intensity until finally the power indicator blinking on his screen pointed to 100%. He finished what was left of his pre-flight and waited for the elevator to take them up.

Open space edged over the lip of the shaft, framed by the Rheas pod opening. Rylan sat for a moment, taking in the starlight. He sniffed, clearing his nose, before punching the mag lock release and landing gear controls, leaving the Viper hanging just above the deck. The portal caught his eye again, swallowing up the distance between them like a hungry maw gaping to be filled; an old monster welcoming him home.

He eased very gently back on the left stick, bursts of gas erupting from the lower thrust nozzles, gently sliding the Viper upwards. As he released the stick, the flight control kicked in to counter for inertia and violently fired the upper nozzles, bringing the craft to an almost instantaneous stop. Letting out a deep breath, Rylan took his hand off the left control and pushed the throttle up to 30% and fingered the wireless button on the main control.

''All right, all ready?''

"Clear of the deck, ready to roll."

''Lets go.''

Andreu pushed down on the acceleration pedal for a long second, the three main drives of the Viper bursting into life and burning before settling back down to a cool orange idle. The craft began to sail down the length of the pod, dwarfed by its surroundings.

Graff watched on as the other viper was steadily sliding away, the glow of its engines lighting up the inner walls of the flight pod around it. Jim waited a couple seconds then powered up as well. A long controlled burn got him close to the lead viper and then he let inertia do its job.

The CNP really wasn't working. Error code spilled over the central display as he switched it to navigation, a mess of waypoints and lines criss-crossing back and forth creating a spiders web of chaos, constantly shifting. ''You were fracking right about the CNP. Screw colonial nav program, more like Cannot Navigate Properly.'' Rylan tried to re synchronise the system with the local colonial battlenet, only to receive the same errors. ''Ok, screw this. We'll do it the old way. First marker was about thirty klicks the other side of the shipyard. We'll burn up to 200kph and turn for the next marker when the timer runs down one minute thirty. Mark and burn.'' He turned to point over the bow of the Rhea and lit his engines again.

"Copy that, mark.." Graff ticked on a small counter on his screen, "..and burn." He spun his viper after Rylan's and pushed the throttle to half power. The engines rumbled again and the ship shot forward.

''If you win before we head for the next marker, I'll buy you a bottle when we hit tarmac.'' He coughed, clearing his throat. ''I spy, with my little eyeball mark one...''

Joint post created by
James Graff
Andreu Rylan

T-2 Days – 0814 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Port Flight Pod

"Crew of the Battlestar Rhea! Dismissed!"

Tracey looked around, unsure of what to do next. Her fatigue was unshakable and hung over her like a storm cloud. Everyone around her had started to move about, a sense of excitement filled the air around her, but she was not infected with it herself.

"Ericson!" she said at last, calling out to a nearby deckhand. He jogged over.

"Yes, Chief?" he asked, clearly excited.

"Please run this to the Commander for me. I need a break."

His enthusiasm was only slightly marred as he took the report from her. He nodded in agreement and tucked it into his work belt and started off towards the halls to look for the departed Commander and XO.

"And Ericson!" she called after him. "Don't you even think about reading it!"

He gave her a giddy thumbs up and turned the corner.

"Gods," she said, at last. Then she remembered the CAG and her offer of lunch. Did she have the energy?

Sure, why not.

She looked around for a moment before spotting the young woman amongst a gaggle of eager Viper Jocks all vying for attention from their new commanding officer. She walked up and stuck an arm in between two of the sticks.

"Hey," she said, not worrying about protocol anymore. The CAG had seemed friendly enough the first time they'd spoken, and she doubted whether her disposition had changed.

"Do you still want to catch lunch? I was thinking we could grab something from the mess hall and take it back to an office to get acquainted."

The two men on either side of her exchanged glances and let out a small, "Ooooh..."

She elbowed them in the ribs and scowled at them. She'd had enough of that crap to last her a life time.

"Shut up. What are you, frakkin' children?"

They blushed and apologized then ran off to some other venture, slipping a quick high-five in on their way out of the flight pod.

As for Elena, she didn't really realise that pilots were standing around her. They seemed to want her attention, ask her all kind of things about the Commander, his military history, some stories about herself, what their first mission would be alike and many other questions. They weren't even displeased with her answering an absent-minded "Dunno" every once in a while, ignoring most of the questions completely. She was thinking about what to do next.

As the Commander and the XO had just left, talking, it wasn't really the best moment to fill him in on the status of the Air Group. Also, luckily, she was done with most of the paperwork and quite content with this fact. I could go and work out for a while, until-

At about this moment, she felt a hand at her shoulder, turned her head and faced the Chief.
"Hey", she responded, "Um... yeah, sure."
As for the glances and the 'Ooooh...', she wasn't quite sure. Of course, she had heard rumors. After all, it would be stupid not to be aware of the jocks' chats. But as far as she knew, male recruits liked to fantasize about good looking women in higher positions. It wouldn't have surprised her, if the same kind of rumor existed about her aswell. So she wouldn't give it a second thought until it was confirmed.

"Let's go", she said, grabbing the chance of escaping from the pilots who also seemed to get the same idea as the pair of idiots. She walked hurriedly and didn't stop until the two of them had shut the hangar deck's hatch behind them.

"What a bunch of morons", she murmured, smiling. It didn't really matter what they were thinking. They could talk as much as they wanted, as long as they weren't the same kind of troublemakers as Nagala. She had no intention of scolding them the same way, especially not after the Commander's arrival.

Elena gave Tracey a broad grin, already looking forward to informing her about her new aide. A sudden wave of good mood washed over her and made her voice sound more cheery than it had ever been in the past couple of days. "Come on, let's see what delicacies are left for us and take it to the CAG's office. No offense, but you really look like you need a rest in an armchair, if not a several days of R&R."

"None taken. I must look the way I feel, if not worse. Anything to get me out of the hangar bay for a while is a welcome respite. I never thought working a Battlestar would be this demanding. At least I've got a capable crew working for me. Without them, I think I would've died by now... I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Not really", she chuckled. "Honestly, most of the stuff that needed to be done was my job. Going through a couple of things with the Squadron leaders, filling my pilots in, giving feedback to the XO on everything I did... But apart from that, it was just messy bureaucracy. And, of course, dealing with the... black sheeps in the flock, if you know what I mean."

Her facial expression changed. She replaced the joking smile with one of satisfaction.
"I really wanted to tell you later... But you'll have a temporary worker among your deckhands, starting today until you no longer need him. Lieutenant Junior Grade John Nagala. The worst pain in the ass I've ever came across. And it's not a coincidence with the name: He's the son of the Admiral."

She exhaled in resignation, her smile wiped off, as they walked around another corner into a corridor where two technicians were fixing a computer terminal. They gave the trespassing officers a hurried nod and immediately went back to work, as if they expected to be punished, if they didn't at least look busy.
Elena went on: "Seriously, he seems to have only one thing in mind: Breaking rules, provoking, picking fights and then look, if he gets away with it. If not for his dad, he would have left the service years ago. That's the most frustrating thing about him: I can't get rid of him, and he knows that. Letting him do hard work, giving him the worst sleeping place on the ship, maybe putting him into the Brig next time... It doesn't work out. And it doesn't deter him. I wish I could break a couple of his bones and..."

Suddenly, she noticed how angry she had become just by talking about him. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. For the first time since they had started their walk, she stopped and turned around to Tracey. "I'm sorry. There I am, going on and on, getting all scary about this bastard, and you have had enough problems of your own. Not only with the ship. I heard of this really... disgusting guy, one of those civilian contractors... Ansley, if I remember the name right."

"You do, and he is. I haven't had the time to report his behaviour, but I know some of the others on my deck crew have. Probably even some others. I doubt he saves it all for us. But I'd rather not give him the pleasure of knowing we're talking about him..."

They were coming up on the mess hall, and the smell of real food made Tracey's stomach ache with anticipation.

"You know," she said. "I can't wait until we finally launch. At least at that point I can stop running checks every couple of hours to make sure we're fit to ship out and maybe I can stop living off of energy bars and week-old stew."

She looked the CAG up and down.

"How 'bout you? Are you looking forward to shipping out? I imagine it must be pretty exciting for you too."

Elena slowly shook her head, carefully thinking about her response.
"Depends. On one hand, of course, this is my first assignment as the CAG. On a brand-new ship, that is. Not many people get this kind of opportunity. Quite a bunch of the pilots and officers aboard are the best you can find in the fleet. That's exciting me. But on the other hand, I have a bad feeling about this ship. As if the civilian contractors deliberately messed up all the computers. Flickering lights while doing paperwork, that's a nightmare of its own. But I don't have to tell you."

An automated hatch opened before them and revealed rows of tables and benches, made out of metal and plastics, aswell as a large counter for the food. There weren't many people inside the room, as those who had to get up early were in the middle of their shift. The two of them walked through the room.

"The sooner we get rid of all those crappy machines and programs they wanted to install, the better. With all those power fluctuations the network has caused this morning, let alone the past days, it's a miracle that I got out of my quarters with its automated doors. Now, lets see...", she said, gazing at the person behind the counter.

Tracey shared the CAG's interest in the food and, for a moment, silently gazed at her surprisingly wide selection. The meals would go downhill after they shipped out, she knew that. She picked up a tray and continued the conversation.

"You're telling me," she said. "I'm making it my personal mission to undo all the damage the I.S.E. has done to my hangar deck, and that includes removing all the CNPs from your Vipers. I guess I can use the extra help... By the way, Nagala isn't the one who forcibly removed his CNP box with a hammer, is he?"

"He is", she sighed, grabbing a tray aswell, "and he seems to be able to multitask. Tried to convince another pilot to beat either me or the XO down, while ripping it out."

"Well, surprisingly, his method was actually somewhat effective. Turns out those CNPs are made to be easily removable due to their well-known fickleness. Of course, using a screwdriver is a lot safer both for man and machine. If I can at least make him use the proper tools, we might be able to get some decent work out of him."

While listening, Elana handed her tray over to the cookmaid behind the counter and pointed at the food she wanted: Some green vegetables that looked like beans, something yellowish, resembling the Colcannon she had eaten during her R&R on Aerolon and something light brown which kind of smelled good. Of course, she really had no idea what it was she was eating. Frankly, probably nobody in the fleet really knew what the food was made of. They only knew that, once a ship had left its dock, it started to taste all the same.

After the Chief had turned silent, she responded:
"That's another thing I wanted to talk through with you. Removing the CNPs. I would be glad, if we were completely protected from the problems the CNP and network are causing aboard the Rhea. A malfunction or 'power fluctuation' while drifting into a planet's atmosphere, flying towards the hull of a battlestar or in the middle of a combat would be a bit more than just unfortunate. So the XO asked me to confer with you and take whatever steps necessary to maintain the full fighting capability of the Air Group. Getting completely rid of the CNP units, at least until I.S.E. delivers them in a flawless version, appears to be the best way. Do you agree?", Elena asked, not only as a rhetorical question but in real interest in Tracey's opinion, as she had far more knowledge concerning technical issues.

"I don't know if it's the best way," said Tracey, trying to remain impartial in her judgement. "But it seems that with the limited means we've been given, the only way to ensure your Vipers are going to fly is to remove them."

She thanked the woman behind the counter and picked up her tray, waiting for the CAG to finish getting her food.

"You know," she said. "It's funny. Our ship, being the first ship trying to run the CNP program from the ground up, seems to be the only one experiencing these problems on such a major level. My theory is that its inherently unstable when so much of a Battlestar is controlled by it. It's like the network can't handle the stresses of trying to operate an entire ship- and that's why we have these blackouts..."

The lights flickered, as if the Gods themselves had been watching and decided to have a little fun with her.

"... Wow. Well, I mean, there you go. I don't know anything about computer programming, really, but I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard to fix the problems."

Elena raised her eyebrows in disfavor at the flickering lights but accepted her tray with a grateful smile, then turned around and led the way out of the mess hall, towards her office.

"I can't tell, if it was easy to fix. Maybe. But I'd prefer not to rely too much on something that, with a couple of flaws in its codes, could cause a complete loss of power in a critical situation. Some pirates are damn good hackers, and if they managed to get a virus into the ship's systems, any ship's systems, we could be dead in no time. Just by... pulling a virtual plug."

Their steps echoed in the almost silent corridors of the battlestar. It seemed almost deserted. Of course, this was only the case in this part of the ship. The working crewmembers were concentrated on the hangar decks, the CIC, probably also the maintenance ducts or wherever the bodies of the computers were hidden. Anyways, it was odd to hear nothing but the reverbaring sounds of ther boots and the dull, distant humming of the Rhea's engines.

After another couple of moments' silence, she laughed.
"So... Looks like we're through with chatting on our jobs. If you don't have anything else on your mind, that is."

"To be honest, my mind feels like a complete blank," answered Tracey. "I'm surprised I've been able to keep up the conversation. What I wouldn't give to eat my lunch and then curl up for a few hours and have a decent sleep."

Joint Post By:
Elana Vance
Tracey Graham

"Oh shit!" said John, grabbing ahold of Phoenix's flight jacket and pulling her back around the corner. They both slammed hard against the bulkhead.

"What's your problem?"

"The CAG," he said. "Have you met her yet?"

Phoenix shook her head, no. John let out a sigh and wiped his face with an open palm.

"Real ball-buster," he said, deciding to leave out the fact that he probably deserved it. "She totally bitched me out for trying to fix my damn Viper. Now I not only have to sleep in a cupboard on the hangar deck, but I also have to help the frakkin' deck gang whenever they call on me."

"Shit. What'd you do?"

"Pulled the CNP from my ship without permission."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah... Well, I may have also defaced Colonial property and suggested beating up superior officers... But that's not the point."

She looked around the corner again.

"Well, she's leaving now. Heading somewhere with the Chief. You can quit hiding now."

"Hey - you haven't met her yet."

"True that. Hey, speaking of which, when do you think we'll have our first mission briefing?"

"I would imagine sometime after we ship out. Makes sense, since we don't really have any actual missions until then. 'Cept flying some CAPs - which are bullshit. I mean, it's not like we're going to get attacked here in the frakkin' shipyard."

"You swear a lot."

"No, really?"

They entered the mess hall, the automatic doors sliding gracefully out of their way. The smell of food and cleaning products washed over them. John pointed towards the back, and they started heading for it. There was a break between the lunch counter and the wall with a little gate. The pair opened the gate and snuck through, heading for the back room.

Once they arrived, John gave it a light knock.

"Hey, Ollie!" he said. "It's Drifter. Open up."

"Ollie?"

"We're on a nickname basis," he explained.

The door opened, and Oliver Marx - the head cook - smiled at them. His beard was thick and greying, but his hair was still completely black. Looking at him, one could easily tell he was a military cook. Definitely not some high class chef from Caprica City.

"What's going on, Nagala? Need more smokes already?"

"Maybe," he said, gesturing at Phoenix. "I'm having to share. This is Phoenix by the way."

"Nice to meet you. I'd hold out a hand, but you know... sanitation and all. I'm not supposed to touch anything or anyone that I wouldn't want to touch my own food. No offense."

"None.. taken?"

"Come on in."

He led them down a little tiled passageway, through the kitchen, and into his office. Once there, he shut the door behind him and sat them down.

"So," he said. "What can I do for you today?"

"I feel you. Maybe it would be best to just eat and then take a rest. By the way, we're here." She pointed at a door in the middle of the hallway, walking up to it. It slid open soundlessly. The room inside looked more like a principal's than the CAG's office, with some furniture, a wooden desk in its center and a rather old and wrecked looking leather armchair behind it which seemed to fit the least into the picture.

"Found that beauty on flea market on Tauron. It's in its late 60s and has probably seen more of the universe than me. But once you take a seat on it, you'll feel why I chose to take it along to this trip. I guess even the Commander would be envious", Elena grinned. "Go ahead, sit do- Oh..."

Her eyes rested on a neat looking folder on the desk. She had placed her report for the CO here not to forget it, and she really had forgotten about it. He was probably waiting for her now. The memo she had received yesterday had read that he wanted to be informed ASAP after his arrival. She sighed.

"Shit... Oh well, it seems like I'll have to go. Better not let the Commander wait. But of course you can stay here, eat and take a nap on the armchair. You're gonna love it."She smiled and winked at her. "You'll be safe for a while and I can wake you up in an hour or two. You deserve it."

She put down her tray, picked up the report and went to the hatch. But before leaving, Elena turned her head again, with an awkward expression on her face.
"I'm really sorry that I've got to go in such a hurry. Why not have a drink together after we ship out?"

"That sounds fun," said Tracey.

"Great. I'm looking forward to that. See you later." With a last smile, she left.

Tracey watched as the CAG walked out. As the door shut behind her, she looked around at the office.

"Gods," she said. "I seriously hope I can get into my actual office soon. Another day in that godsforsaken room they gave me and I might just go nuts... Well, I mean, here I am talking to myself. I guess I've already cracked. Great."

She sat down in the CAG's chair and was suitably impressed.

She wasn't kidding...

After a few minutes, she had fallen asleep, her food sitting uneaten on the tray. It had been too long and to far between, but at last she was getting a much needed rest.

Joint Post By:
Elana Vance
Tracey Graham

T-2 Days – 0847 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – CO's Quarters

It was somewhat unpleasant to directly report to the Commander. Though there had been some reports to the XO before, this time it felt like she was a pupil who had behaved mischievously and was sent to the head teacher. In fact, she had experienced that in both elementary and high school, for beating fellow students up. If not for her grades and good behavior in classes, she would have never graduated.

Still, it didn't really explain her bad feeling about this, nor was there any reason for her discomfort at his speech. At least none she could look into. Maybe she would find out inside his quarters...

"Captain Vance", she told the marines in front of his door, taking the report from under her arm, "I'm here to report about the Air Group's status."

"Just one moment, sir", one of them replied, turned towards the intercom and pressed the button. "Commander, the CAG is waiting outside."

Cavil looked around, confused for a moment by the sudden intrusion of sound into his work. He'd begun unpacking, hanging paintings, filling shelves with books, and so on. He made his way over to the intercom, stepping over a haphazard pile of small boxes and pushed the button.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, send her in."

--------------------

As soon as the bulkhead had closed behind her, the marine who had spoken let out a sigh and adjusted his rifle.

"Man, this already feels more like being his secretary than his guard..."

The other one turned his head slightly towards, raising an eyebrow.

"Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

--------------------

After the door was shut, she stood firm and gave him a salute.

"I'm sorry for not handing you my report earlier, sir. You seemed busy after your arrival, so I figured that showing up immediately would be rather annoying you. Oh...", she let out in embarrassment, "I apologize."

She offered her hand to him. "I'm Captain Elena Vance. I know you most certainly read my record and probably know even more about me than I do myself but we haven't met before, so... It just feels better to me to go through this... 'ritual', if I'm going to act as your CAG from now on."

Cavil took the hand and shook it slowly, examining the woman before him.

"Yes," he said. "I'd say it's safe to say that I know quite a lot about you. Probably more than you do, but don't let that concern you... Please, take a seat."

He motioned towards the freshly-cleared couch and watched her sit down.

"I'm sure you know me, Captain, so I'll forego a lengthy introduction. Commander Francis Cavil, formerly of the Colonial Marines. I've been expecting you for some time now. I do hope there is a good reason for your tardiness?"

She placed the folder next to herself on the couch.

"Yes, sir. Just before your landing, I had a conversation with the XO. You were probably already informed about the power fluctuations and general problems we were having with the CNP and the network. Well, I had my concerns about the CNP units in the Vipers and that they might cause the same problems. So he authorized me to take any steps necessary to maintain the Air Group's fighting capability."

Elena paused for a moment, leaned back, trying to make herself comfortable. But still, there remained an inexplicable strain and she kept looking at the Commander.

"During the last half of an hour, I've been talking with the Chief of the Deck and we decided that removing them from all ships would be the best course of action."

Cavil tried to figure out what to say. He was rarely at a loss for words, but there seemed no logical explanation for his hesitancy for removing the CNPs from the Vipers. Of course what that meant was that they would have a fully functioning Air Wing when the Cylon forces arrived. That was not a good thing.

"Right," he said at last. "I guess that seems to be the only thing for it. I've received word that with Mr. Ansley's recent arrest, we'll be getting the instillation back on track - unfortunately not with enough time to get it working at 100%."

With any luck the ship's figher compliment wouldn't matter. If the Rhea was destroyed in the opening attack, as planned, then he wouldn't have to worry about that.

"You have my blessing to remove the CNPs from the Vipers... I'm guessing that's the report that you owe me?"

Her hand reached out for the folder she had put down just a mere thirty seconds earlier and it made her even more aware of her nervousness. She offered it to him, saying:

"Now, as for the Air Group itself, there's something else. Originally, the 170 Vipers we have were divided into three Squadrons. Frankly, I don't know who came up with that, but they certainly didn't know anything about commanding 56 pilots in the middle of a combat. I want to divide it further. Into ten Squadrons. That way, their leaders can really do a decent job both inside and outside the cockpit and it will make the planning of operations easier. At least that's my opinion, sir."

"Ah yes," responded Cavil, his wits returning, "That was the doing of Admiral Wilson. He's a great guy, really, but he hasn't been in command of a Battlestar for decades. The poor man has sort of lost his edge, if you know what I mean."

"Submit a formal write up on the expanded air group plans to me as soon as possible for review. I have no doubt I will find it entirely acceptable, though. In the mean time, begin removing the CNPs from the Vipers. Is there anything else you need, Captain?"

She stood up with an almost relieved facial expression.

"No, I think that everything else is fine. I'm glad to be done with most of the planning. And that we soon ship out."

Elena made two steps away from the sofa. But now that she had an opportunity to ask, it was probably better than just leaving it at that. After all, there could be reason to it. So she turned towards him again.

"Permission to speak off the record, sir?"

Cavil looked up from his paperwork, having expected that to be the end of their meeting.

"Huh? Oh, yes, sure. Granted."

"I don't really know how to put it, but... um... there's something about... well... your presence that gives me chills. I have no idea why I said that, but maybe... do you know what that is about?"

"Well," he said. "Off the record - I'd say its a combination of fatigue and the fact that I'm just a creepy old man."

He gave a genuine smile and a slight chuckle, hoping to ease her concerns. She was there for a reason - a part of the plan. What part she was to serve was completely unknown to Cavil.. but he had his theories.

Backup plan, he thought to himself. Probably. In case I screw it up.

"Of course, it's also possible that you're nervous about being around a new superior officer. You've gotten used to reporting to Colonel Knight and it's disconcerting for you to have to report to me instead. I, myself, have experienced the same thing many times..."

Whatever it was, he was not the one to tell her. She would have to find out when her time came. That was how it was.

"But in all honesty, dear, I don't know. I'm not a psychologist. That's a question you'll have to answer for yourself. Go with your gut, follow your instinct. Maybe then you'll find what you seek."

She nodded slowly. It was a good explanation. As she hadn't expected any at all, had no idea why she had mentioned that, Elena felt better. Something, a part of her in the depths of her subconsciousness, still wasn't satisfied. But the rest of her was.

"Sir."

She saluted to him, gave him a nod, even a careful smile, then walked to the exit to the hallway.

Cavil returned the salute and held it until after she had turned around and headed for the door, then he slowly lowered his arm and folded his hands together on his desk. Watching her open the hatch and step out, he let out a sigh.

This whole thing is a mistake, he told himself. The sooner it's all over, the better.

--------------------

This Joint Post Made By:

Francis Cavil
Elana Vance

T-2 Days - 1830 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - XO's Quarters

Ethan Knight silently ate from a bowl of noodles as he read through the folder resting on the coffee table in front of him. Several pieces of paper were scattered across the table, each of them containing detailed reports of multiple incidents involving one, Mr. Ansley.

Glancing up from the papers in front of him, Ethan observed as a marine escorted the civilian into his quarters.

"Thank you Corporal, you may go," Ethan said as he took another roll of noodles from his bowl. The Corporal gave a quick salute before turning and leaving the quarters. After staring at the reports in front of him for several more seconds, Ethan looked up to see Ansley staring down at him, with an almost superior look on his face. "You know, you can sit down," Ethan said as he placed the bowl of noodles back down on the table.

"I'd rather stand," he answered smugly as a sneer formed on his face.

"Alright then suit yourself," Ethan said leaning back into his cushioned couch. "Do you know who I am Mr. Ansley?"

"Considering the fact that I'm standing in the middle of the Executive Officer's Quarters, I'm guessing the Executive Officer of this tin can," Ansley said.

Ethan tilted his head to the side as he looked at Ansley and raised his eyes. "Your observational skills are outstanding Mr. Ansley. However, I'm going to take an educated guess and say that your working and social skills are not up to par."

"What? Are you going to chew me a new one just because your crew doesn't like me?"

"No Mr. Ansley, I have no intention of giving you a military dress down because quite personally, I don't think you'll last through it," Ethan said casually as he stood up and picked up the one of the many pieces of paper from the folder. "The reason you are here in my quarters is because I don't like you," Ethan said bluntly. "Not my crew. The crew can't always get what it wants, such as a new XO in some cases or a competent Commander in others. However, me being the second most senior officer of this ship, does give me some special... privileges."

"So what? You don't like me. What are you going to do about it? Throw me out the airlock?" Ansley said in a mocking tone.

"If I could do so without facing charges I would. Unfortunately however, the law says otherwise. No, you see, if there is one thing you need to understand in a business, it's that you need to know that customer service is key. And in this case, the military is the customer. And I, being the second highest officer on this ship, represent the military. And I, am not a happy customer," smiling slightly as he walked around Ansley.

"Once again, what are you going to do about it? The company has my back you moron. They're not going to take me off this job just because you asked them to," Ansley said crossing his arms.

"Ah. You see. That's the kicker," Ethan said as he handed Ansley the paper he was holding. "You see, here in the military, we have access to a wealth of information. Including civilian records. I was a little curious and looked up your record Mr. Ansley and what I found surprised me," he said as he observed Ansley reading the paper. "You my friend, have a plethora of bad reports. Not finishing projects on time. Harassing workers. Harassing military members, more specifically females. Blatant disrespect for a customers needs. And that's only on the paper your holding in your hand. I've still got at least a dozen more pages filled with bad reports."

Ethan silently observed as Ansley started to sweat some more. "Now after finishing reading this report, I was surprised how you even get work nowadays. Especially with these performance reports. And you know what, one word popped into my mind. Corruption." Ethan shook his head mockingly. "It's a sad thing really. To think such a prestigious branch of a company can be corrupt. Keeping this in mind, you see, I called a board member of your company earlier today, and he sounded genuinely surprised by the information I was giving him, and he reassured me that the company does not support such intolerant behavior as your own."

"You've got nothing," Ansley snarled as he balled up the piece of paper and threw it at Ethan.

"Actually, I've got everything Mr. Ansley. You see, I just got off the phone with that same board member and they said they're launching a full investigation on you and your branch. Suffice to say, in less then 5 hours they've already dug up enough dirt on you to have you sent to prison for at least 4 years."

Ansley's fists were now balled up on his sides. You could see him grinding his teeth in an attempt to control his obvious anger. "Possible charges include..." Ethan turned around and picked up another piece of paper from his desk and turned back to face Ansley. "Money laundering, blackmail, sexual harassment and a laundry list of misdemeanors. Not to mention possible ties to the black market." Ethan dropped the paper on the table and looked up at Ansley. "Do you have anything to say?"

Ansley glared hatefully at Ethan as he visibly attempted to control himself. "Frak you, you no good piece of shit."

Ethan stared calmly at Ansley. "No thank you Mr. Ansley. I already have a fiance and daughter."

Ansley suddenly ran at Ethan with his fist raised in the air. Surprised by the sudden action, Ethan barely had time to move his head as the fist flew by his right ear. Eyes wide in surprised, Ethan looked at Ansley's face, only to see unadulterated hatred and anger.

Realizing he had to neutralize the situation before it got anymore out of control. Ethan stepped to the side of Ansley's second punch. Outstretching his arm, Ethan blocked the blow and grabbed his wrist as he spun around Ansley who was now falling forward from the inertia of his missed punch. Using Ansley's motion to his advantage, Ethan put his in a one armed arm-lock while using his other hand to push down Ansley's face into the table.

Keeping most of his body weight on Ansley, Ethan called out, "Corporal!"

The slightly startled Marine entered the room quickly and was surprised to see Ansley face sideways on the coffee table, yelling incoherent words while the Colonel was applying pressure on the arm-lock in an attempt to keep the man tame.

"Take Mr. Ansley here down to the brig. Civilian authorities should be here sometime tomorrow afternoon to place him under arrest for multiple crimes," Ethan ordered as he forcefully lifted the man up from the coffee table while keeping the arm-lock.

Handing him over to the Corporal, Ansley was handcuffed and forcefully dragged from the XO's quarters. All the while yelling, "Frak you Knight! Frak you!"