Phase Two - The Great Escape (40,312 Words)

T-1 Days – 0700 – Caprica City - Government Central Plaza

"I have to go," said the tall blonde woman in a lucious but commanding tone. "I'm meeting someone."

"Really?" responded the shorter man, dressed in an expensive Caprica's Finest Tailors pinstripe suit. His hair was worn long, hanging about his shoulder, and his face was clean - save the naughty smile that crossed his lips.

"Who is he? I'm insanely jealous."

"I doubt that."

"So touchy tonight. Well, I'm meeting someone too - business. New project at Defense I might do. Anyways - call you tomorrow. 'Bye."

The man leant into the woman and kissed her softly on the cheek. She wouldn't let him know it - not yet - but she loved him. She loved him with more passion than anyone had ever loved another. But he couldn't know that. It wasn't to be said. It wasn't part of the plan. She watched him leave the courtyard, his wonderful cocky swagger filling her with a sense of lust and loss.

Then, there was a slight noise behind her. She turned to see what it was and smiled. Standing there, leaning against a pillar of the stone courtyard, was the person she'd been expecting to see.

"It's about time," she said, knowingly. "I wondered when you'd get here."

"It is indeed," replied the figure, standing straight and moving down closer to the blonde woman. "The time has almost come."

"I'd like to be with him."

"I know. And so you shall be. There is much for him to do yet. And, one way or another, you will always be with him. He needs you, just as much as you need him."

"Will I see you again?"

"I doubt it..." the figure seemed to reconsider. "Perhaps. Much is still unclear."

"God will show us the way."

"So say we all."

With that, Gaius Baltar put a hand on the Six's head and pulled her close, kissing her passionately. She let him. She knew he wasn't real.. at least, not in the corporeal sense.. but his lips felt so real. When at last he pulled away, he gave her a boyish grin.

"You're doing a great thing," he said.

"I wish I could believe that."

"You will," he whispered. At that, he turned and walked back up the short concrete steps to the upper landing and turned behind the pillar. Then, he was gone.

The Six felt the cold Caprican wind on her cheek; smelled the fresh carmel apples from the market; heard the elated screeches of children playing in the distance; tasted Gaius' sweet lips on hers. She let the sensations overwhelm her as she sat down against the pillar and stared blankly up at the sky. It was beautiful shade of blue.

I love you, she thought.

T-1 Day – 0323 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – CAG’s Quarters

This night was not really different from many she had been through during the last years. Ever since she left ‘home’, it haunted her in her dreams. As if they didn’t want to let her go. She rolled from one side of the bed to the other, asleep but sweating, crying even. And after a while, she started twitching, remembering sharp pain all over her back. She still carried the scars from the belt. Her housemasters had hit her more than once. Not as often as her fellow orphans, but more savagely. The bruises she got from the other children, and those she gave them back after time, never lasted long. But the anguish from them, their ill want to trash some religion into her, beating her harder with every year that passed, never showing her any warm feelings whatsoever... That had really made her youth hell. All those fights hadn’t influenced her that deeply, hadn’t made it so hard for her to feel anything except anger and hatred, if there had been somebody to rely on, a person she could go to, who would wipe off the tears and blood.

It was even more surprising that she really survived it instead of being beaten to death on one of the countless occasions. It was surprising that there had been guys who found cuts on her cheeks, remainders from her last fights, attractive. That some guys in high and flight school didn’t really care who they were fracking with. If not for her good looks, probably none of them would have done it. After a short and disturbingly realistic scene from her first sex, she woke up, soaking wet and breathing heavily.

Of course, she couldn’t see a thing and it was better that way. She didn’t really want to see anything. Looking around in her quarter after one of those nightmares only made her feel lonelier. After all, there had never been a person who wanted to look deep into her soul or past. And what’s worse, she hadn’t really cared about it, either. Elena had picked the best looking guys who wanted to go out with her, whenever she had felt like it. And while they believed to be the winners, to have a girlfriend that was athletic, sharp and beautiful at once, she literally abused them. No ‘relationship’ she had ever had lasted longer than a couple of weeks, a month on the outside. By then, all of them had realized that she was only interested in a warm, comfortable bed, some sex every now and then, maybe somebody to kill some time with. But she couldn’t love them. She never happened to feel it and was never taught how to love. What a tasteless joke... There’s nothing I long for more than this and I can never find it. Because even if somebody feels that way about me, I can’t give it back.

With this same desperate thought in mind which she always had after that nightmare, she let the tears flow, rolled to the side and was eventually engulfed by the merciful darkness of dreamless sleep.

T-1 Day - 0755 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea

Colonel Ethan Knight walked through the busy corridors of the Battlestar Rhea, with a cup of hot coffee in hand. Every once in a while he would nod his head at passing crewmembers as they saluted, whether the salute was enthusiastic or just plain dull. Turning a corridor, Ethan observed several civilian contractors entering the CIC further down the corridor.

Approaching the CIC he heard several raised voices arguing about something that he couldn't quite make out until he was standing at the entrance.

"You can't just delete a few things and say you fixed the frakking program! We need to uninstall and reinstall it to figure out what the problem is!" One of the civilians yelled.

The cause of his anger rolled his eyes dramatically. "Do you have any idea how long that is going to take? I want to get off of this frakking ship before dinner tonight, please and thank you. We're deleting the cause of the problem and moving on with our lives."

"What's going on here?" Ethan said in a loud clear voice. The CIC suddenly went quite as a majority of it's occupants realized that the Colonel was now standing in the doorway. "What's the problem?"

The second civilian spoke first. "My younger associate here wants to do something that is not necessary to fix your little computer problem."

Before Ethan could speak, the younger associate said, "You can't just delete something and hope the problem is fixed. We need to completely wipe the Command Navigation Program from the hard drives and reinstall it to make sure it wasn't just a bad install."

Ethan closed his eyes as he could feel a headache starting to come on. The two bickered for a few more seconds before Ethan snapped. "That's enough!" Ethan yelled. He looked over to Petty Officer Ream and nodded his head. "What do you think Petty Officer?" Ethan asked as he walked over to the command table and placed his coffee down.

"Me sir?" Ream asked. At the Colonels nod he continued. "I think the wipe and reinstall would be the best approach. For all we know it could be a bad install."

Ethan nodded his head. "Alright do it."

"But tha-"

"No buts civilian," Ethan said cutting him off.

"Why are yo-"

"What is my rank?" Ethan said cutting him off again.

"Colonel," he answered angrily.

"Exactly, and what does that mean Petty Officer?" Ethan said turning to Ream.

Zubin laughed quietly. "It means your word is law and you only answer to the Commander sir."

"Exactly. So stop complaining and do what I tell you."

Without another word, the two consultants went to the terminals and started to work.

Returning to the command table, Ethan took a sip from his cup of coffee and placed it back down. "Bloody contractors," he muttered under his breath.

"Sir, your presence is requested on the flight deck," Petty Officer Ream said as he covered the receiver of the phone he had in his hand. "They say it's urgent."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Did they say what the problem is?"

"No sir, just that there is something there for you and it's urgent." Ream repeated.

Sighing once again, Ethan picked up his coffee and started walking out the CIC. "Tell them I'm on my way."

T-1 Day 0630 Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea

Alex woke up with a start, he had been dreaming of being in a corridor running when suddenly it ripped open and he had been pulled into deep space. Checking the clock he had to be on duty in an hour and a half so he decided to get up. Still feeling dirty from his 12 hours with the Chief Engineer of crawling from one end of the ship to the other re-routing power conduits, he headed towards the showers. As he walked along the corridor his mind wandered to the day before...


----18 hours ago----

"GODS DAMN IT!!!! STUPID MOTHERFRAKER!!!"

Woods looked around.

"What did you do?"

"The damn power feed didn't de-polorize properly. Got a hell of a shock off of it."

Crawling over to him, Major Woods grabbed his hand and had a look at it.

"Nothing serious, so i won't have to send you to the pretty young nurses to patch you up I'm afraid."

Alex chuckled slightly as she said it.

"That's ok I'd rather stay here and finish this work with you."

Alex smiled as he pulled out the next cable in the panel.

----Present Time 0645----


Walking into the shower area Alex was suprised to see that it was empty. Moving into one of the cubical he striped and started to wash.

After about 15 minutes we wrapped a towel about himself and walked out into the changing room. Grabbing the fresh uniform he had picked up and putting it on. He finished combing his hair and making sure his uniform was perfect, he walked out to drop of his dirty clothes at his quarter's before he went to the mess to grab some food.


----16 Hours ago----

"Pass me that wrench Alex."

Alex grabbed the nearest wrench and handed it to her under the panel.

"All the test's are coming back positive. It looks like we have an independent feed from both Auxilary Reactor's."

Lou pulled herself out from the panel.

"Job done then. Looks like we finished faster then we thought. You wanna go get something to eat? Before we have to go back to getting the rest of the ship ready."

Alex smiled at her.

"Yeah go for it. i'll go get cleaned up and meet you in the mess hall in about 30 minutes?"

She smiled back at him and nodded. Grabbing both the tool belts and all the tools, she crawled off and out of sight. Alex lent on the wall and sighed.


----Present Time--0720----

Walking into the mess, Alex grabbed a tray and looked around at the food that was on display. Not feeling very confident with what he could see he walked up to a plastic container and pulled out the sandwich and the salad. Grabbing a bottle of water he walked over towards the furthest table from the door. Sitting with his back up agains't the wall, he started to eat his breakfast.

T-1 Day - 0759 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CO's Quarters

Cavil woke up to the shrill insistence of his alarm. It was sitting on his desk, all the way across the long room, to make sure that he got up. He still had work to do.

Lifting his tired old body up from the comforts of his fold-out bed, he flipped his legs over the side. As his feet touched the cold deck below, he shivered. Pondering the logic of the inclusion of shivering in his programming, he made his way slowly over to the desk. Once there, he pressed down on the large oval button and slid it to the right. The alarm shut up.

"There," he said. "I'm up."

He glanced at the time the clock displayed. 0800 - right on time. Moseying into the bathroom, the Commander grabbed a handful of cold water from the little sink and splashed it on his face. Looking up at his reflection, he saw a tired old man. He felt it too.

"I better get one helluva long vacation after all this," he said to the mirror.

T-1 Day - 0810 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CIC

"Commander on deck!" shouted an overzealous Petty Officer Ream as Cavil entered through the swiveling glass doors of the CIC.

Bodies went to attention, hands went to foreheads. Cavil returned the salute and looked around, a serious expression on his face.

"It's good to be here," he said at last. "As you were."

Everyone relaxed and turned back to their work. Ream trotted up to the Commander as he took his place at the command table, bustling civilians and crew members flowing around him like a river parting at an island.

"Excuse me, sir."

"Yes, Petty Officer?"

"I just wanted to say, sir, that it's an honour to be serving under you. I can't wait until we ship out."

"Thank you," responded the Commander. "Neither can I. It won't be long now, will it?"

"No sir. A few hours."

"Tell me," said Cavil, changing the subject. "Where's the Colonel?"

"Oh," said Zubin. "He reported to the flight deck about ten minutes ago. You just missed him sir."

"Ah yes," said the Commander with a smile. "He's down there for his surprise, isn't he?"

Ream shared the smile.

"That's right, sir."

"Good, good. I hope he enjoys it..."

T-1 Day – 0809 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – CAG’s Quarters

With a loud bash, a piercing beep stopped at once. She hated that. Getting up after a night like this was always a horrible. But there was nothing to avoid it, so she pulled the blanket off herself and stood up, getting goosebumps from the cold. It's cold in space, after all. The floor was freezing. And the air was cold enough for itself, if you wore only the unisex underwear, speaking of the tanktop and shorts. The lights weren't on yet, but she found her way to the small sanitary room. No shower there, of course. She was the CAG, not the CO. But she had a metal washbowl and cold water to wake herself up. And additionally, the lights above the mirror were automated, blinding her once she stepped in front of it.

Once her eyes got accustomed to the lighting conditions, Elena saw that she looked quite normal. But the light dark rings below her eyes had gotten darker, slightly. And she could taste the dried tears on her lips. This moment was the worst. Looking at her reflection and being unable to change anything. With a deep breath, she washed it away, then got dressed and took the report she had put on the old couch standing in the proximity of the bed. As the lights were on now, she took a look around. Everything the same. The audio player and the large collection of music discs, filling two long shelfs, near to the couch. Two other shelfs with books, directly above. A desk with a table lamp on it and an armchair behind, though it wasn't as good as the other one.

And of course the two instruments: A steel-stringed guitar and a dark brown piano. Bringing the latter on the ship had cost her an extra 'shipping tax', but she rather paid that than being unable to play for years. After all, music was the only other passion aside from flying she had and one she could put her heart and soul into. I'm lucky that the CAG's Quarters aboard this ship have this size. Otherwise, I could barely walk through it.

She smiled at the light veil of dust on them. Being busy had prevented her from playing anything since her arrival. After shipping out, she would make up for it. So Elena turned around and left, turning the lights off behind her.

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

T-1 Day – 0825 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – CIC

After a short walk, she could see the glass doors of the CIC. She didn't go to the mess hall. Didn't feel like forcing herself to eat something, as she wasn't hungry. She rather wanted to get done with what was left to do.

The marine guards raised their hands to their foreheads and she returned the gesture, while the doors turned open. She wasn't mistaken: The Commander was there, standing at the command table. The CAG walked up to him and saluted.

"Good morning, sir. I've got the formal write here that you wanted."

He accepted it with a nod and started looking over it. There wasn't much to it, apart from the protocolar clarification that the ship's Air Group would be divided into ten squadrons and who the first ten squadron leaders would be, including the formal note on their promotions to the rank of a Lieutenant, where necessary. Most of them didn't know yet. So she walked up to the Communications panel.

"Good morning, Mr. Ream."

"Good morning, Captain", he responded, with a light salute.

"I have to ask for a favor. Could you call these people out via the shipwide, to report to the briefing room?", she handed him a list with ten names.

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you", she smiled and left the CIC, having him look after her until she disappeared at the edge of the glass doors, a merry grin on his lips. I like this post already. Definitely better than having to be uptight all the time around the commanding officers. He cleared his throat, then pressed the button for the shipwide:

"Lieutenant Rylan, Lieutenant Witt, Lieutenant McCullough, Lieutenant Harden, Lieutenant Sanders, Lieutenant Camella, Lieutenant Steen, Lieutenant Hellar, Lieutenant Bennett and Lieutenant Para, please report to the briefing room. I repeat..."

"Lieutenant Rylan,''

He burst awake, fear and confusion blurting into his consciousness at the sudden transition.

''Lieutenant Witt, Lieutenant McCullough, Lieutenant Harden, Lieutenant Sanders,''

''I'm fracking up! I'm up...''

''Lieutenant Camella, Lieutenant Steen, Lieutenant Hellar, Lieutenant Bennett and Lieutenant Para, please report to the briefing room. I repeat..."

Sitting stark naked in the corner of the store room, Rylan reached for his nearby boot. He considered why he had made a nest out of boxes and crates in the corner of the room, as well as removing all his clothes. First there had been giving Graff his winning bottle - and then the sharing of it. I still owe him another half, godsdamnit. Then Graff left the officers rec room, or Rylan had stumbled there. There was the confiscation of some blended fumarello/spice next - and its subsequent 'destruction'. After that the images made little sense and were more disturbing, in many ways, than Andreu would care to realise.

He stood up, and came to one final startling realisation.

''Where did I put my other boot?''

----

Deep in the bowls of the Rhea sat a lonely boot, quivering in the dark - from fear or the vibration of deep bass engines, one will never know - sick and lonely for home, aching to be reunited with its sibling.

Tracey was already up and about, still alive and kicking after the relaxing few hours she had had the day before. She felt a lot better, and probably looked it. There was a combined relief, knowing that soon the ship would be launched and she would no longer have to deal with all the pre-launch garbage and that Ansley had been replaced by a much easier to work with civilian who tried as much as possible to stay out of Tracey's hair.

As Tracey pulled the last screw out of the CNP box in the Viper she'd been working on, there was a loud bleep over the speakers. A few people stopped from their work to listen in, in case it was the Commander. Tracey doubted it. He probably wouldn't have anything to announce this early in the day. Launch was still hours away.

As she had suspected, it was not the Commander's voice. It was Ream- the Communications Officer. She had met him once when she arrived aboard the ship. He seemed chipper and youthful, but other than that she knew nothing about the kid.

"Lieutenant Rylan, Lieutenant Witt, Lieutenant McCullough, Lieutenant Harden, Lieutenant Sanders, Lieutenant Camella, Lieutenant Steen, Lieutenant Hellar, Lieutenant Bennett and Lieutenant Para, please report to the briefing room. I repeat... Lieutenant Rylan..."

She stopped paying attention at that point. There were still forty Vipers that needed their CNPs removed and the sooner the better.

"Where the hell is that Nagala?" she asked, loudly. There were a few shrugs from around her.

"Gods. No wonder she wanted to get rid of him."

Walking over to the nearest phone, she picked up the receiver and spoke into it.

"This it the Chief of the Deck calling Lieutenant Junior Grade Nagala to the Port Flight Pod immediately. Repeat: Nagala, get your ass down here. Now."

She hung it up. A couple deckhands chuckled and gave her a thumbs up. She just smiled and went back to tinkering with the Viper.

Rising to the edge of his cot he let out a hacking cough. "Fraking cancer." he said as he thumped his right hand on his chest.

Layne rubbed his eyes with his palms then slid his hands down his face before reaching into his bedside table drawer to pull out two hotel sized shampoo bottles of a rather potent brand of ambrosia and a half empty pack of cigarettes.

"Breakfast of champions." he said downing one bottle and puffing away on a cigarette. He rose to his feet and rocked his head side to side making his neck click. "Ugh, better head to the Marine Ready Room." he said as he extinguished his cigarette into the ashtray on the table.

Ream's voice cut like a knife through the wonderful silence John had been drifting in. It had taken him hours to get to sleep in the cold, dank workroom he now called a bunk. The noise from the hangar bay never ceased and had gotten so bad at one point that he'd almost considered spacing himself and getting it over with.

At last, he had fallen into a deep and undisturbed sleep. Then, what seemed like mere seconds later...

"Lieutenant Rylan!"

"FRAK!"

"Lieutenant Witt, Lieutenant McCullough, Lieutenant Harden..."

John pounded a fist against the wall in anger.

"Gods dammit!" he said. "Ream, I swear to god I'm going to kill you."

"I repeat: Lieutenant..."

"Shut up!"

He turned his body over on the crummy old cot he'd been given, lamenting the horrible stench of mold that emanated from it. A plume of dust flew up in the air. He hadn't bothered with a shower the previous night and was still covered in dust and a few spots of grease from the work the day before.

At least the morning was fruitful, he reminded himself. His anger subsided a little at the thought of Phoenix. She was beautiful, smart, a capable pilot... and she loved all the same things he did - well, maybe not the swearing and fighting, but the rest of it.

"Gods what I wouldn't do for a-" he reached his hand out for his smokes, trying to find them amidst the jumble of cables on the deck beside him.

"Cigarette," he finished, picking up the pack and slipping one of the delicious fumarella sticks between his teeth. He struck a match and lit it, shaking the little matchstick until the flame died on it and tossing it in a corner. After a few deep inhales, he was feeling considerably better.

"This it the Chief of the Deck calling Lieutenant Junior Grade Nagala to the Port Flight Pod immediately. Repeat: Nagala, get your ass down here. Now."

He'd been dreading that call.

"Frak it," he said and lay back in his bed. "She can come and get me if she wants me."

He blew a smoke ring, got excited for a moment and tried to do another. It just came out as a lumpy cloud.

"Dammit."

Kicking his legs over the side, he slipped into his boots and headed for the hatch. Unlike the majority of the doors on the ship, it was a manual-opener, being such an unimportant hatch. It squeaked loudly and the noise made him flinch. After shutting it again, he looked around at the hall and chose a direction - heading for the Pilots Rec.

If he was going to get in trouble anyways, he might as well be drunk.

T-1 Day - 0815 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea

Ethan walked down the hallways with a purpose. As always, crewmembers parted away and saluted. However, Ethan did not return their salutes this time around. Moving swiftly down the stairwell, Ethan strode onto the flight deck. Looking for someone in charge.

"Mr. Mays," Ethan said as he approached the Assistant Deck Chief. "What is the problem."

"Over there sir," Oswald Mays said as he pointed at a civilian transport sitting in the middle of the flight deck. Several crew members were scattered around the ship, checking it over before it departs once again.

Nodding his head at the Assistant Chief of the Deck, Ethan walked forward to the transport. Looking it over, he could not find anything out of place. "What's the problem Deckhand?" Ethan asked one of the deckhands who were checking over the ship.

"Is that any way to greet your daughter and future wife Mr. Knight," came a voice from the hatch of the transport.

Ethan's eyebrows rose in complete surprise as he spun around immediately to be greeted by a very surprising sight. His fiance with their daughter in her hands.

"Sam?" he asked dumbfounded as the woman in question walked towards him. A sudden smile lit up his face as he walked forward and took her in his arms. Holding her tight, but not so tight that there daughter was smothered, Ethan started laughing slightly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he gave her a quick peck on the lips before kissing their daughter on the head.

Several cries of "Daddy! Daddy!" forced Ethan to smile as Samantha Rhodes handed Alexandra Knight over to Ethan.

"How are you doing Bug?" Ethan said as he took hold of her and rested her on his hip.

"Good. Mommy says that you could get me a puppy if I is good coming here," Alexandra said sweetly as she played with the hair on her doll.

Samantha's shoulders sagged slightly as she sighed.

"Is that so?" Ethan asked as he laughed slightly. "I'll tell you what. If you are good for mommy until I get home, then we'll see about getting a puppy. Can you be good for that long?" Ethan asked the little girl.

Alex nodded her head enthusiastically as she leaned into Ethan even more.

Smiling contently, Ethan turned his attention back to Samantha and gave her another quick peck on the cheek. "So what are you doing here?" Ethan asked.

"Thought we'd pay you a surprise visit before the christening of the Rhea. Quite a nice bucket of bolts you've got here Colonel," Sam said as she and Ethan started to walk towards the stairwell leading out of the flight deck.

Ethan laughed humorlessly. "Well right now it's exactly that. A bucket of bolts. Nothing more, nothing less. I swear to the gods, these fra-"

"Ethan!" Sam yelled giving him a pointed glare before glancing at a now sleeping Alexandra. "Language."

Ethan grinned sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "Whoops. Sorry."

"You better be," Sam said smirking. "So, show me your spacious Executive Officer Quarters," Sam said grinning.

"Yes ma'am," he said giving a mock salute as they turned a corner.

Samantha smiled and looked at him flirtatiously. "Good. Your disciplined. I always liked that in a man."

"Hey," Ethan said giving her a mock hurt look. "Just because I am a disciplined military man doesn't mean I've already been whipped by you," he said reproachfully.

Samantha rolled her eyes and smiled. "Well, at least I've still got the man in uniform part."

Cavil had barely begun the tedious job of analyzing the plans for the day's main event - the ship's launch at 1400 - when he sensed a body beside him. He turned to see the CAG standing there, looking considerably more confident than the previous evening, but still on edge. He wished he could tell her about what it was that was troubling, let her know how it would all be over soon. He'd always had a certain.. fondness.. for her model. But he could not.

She was saluting him, and he returned the gesture.

"Good morning, sir. I've got the formal write here that you wanted."

He simply accepted it from her and turned back to the table. No more needed to be said. She knew that he had a lot of work to be done, and she knew that he was ready to okay her idea of expanding the Air Group Command and could just get done with it. She immediately picked up on the cue and headed over to Ream, giving him instructions on who to call for.

He glanced at the recommendation she'd printed, scanned the names.

Lieutenant Rylan... No surprise there. Same with Harden and McCullough.

Those three were already in command of the three existing Viper Squadrons. Witt was a surprise. She'd just been transferred over a few days ago, though she had received a commendation from her previous CAG complimenting her flight skills. Most of the others were pretty easy to understand - although he seemed to remember Bennett having some sort of mark on his record.

It was probably minor.

He carried the sheaf of paper over to the duty roster and began making the necessary changes to the Crew Manifest...

Cold, so frakkin cold He stretched out an arm trying to find the blanket, but to no avail. Mumbling something about blanket thiefs Graff tried to roll to his side, but stopped suddenly when his head encountered a cold, metallic pole, seemingly sticking out of his bunk. Decididng to ignore it for now, he attempted to roll to the other side, but the poll out-maneuvered him and got there first.
"Alright, who the f-" He sat up quickly, and hit his head against something, then sat back down just as fast. The impact caused a lot of strange noises, almost like bottles falling over and hitting eachother.
oh no.. Graff sighed and sat up again, this time carefully, then put his hand on whatever he'd hit his head against and started feeling around. ..oh yes. He was in the rec room, under a table.

He crawled out from underneath and stood up, squinting his eyes to look around the dimly lit room. He saw a sheet of paper hanging on the side of the table, being held there by two glasses, and read the large bolded handwriting on it:

JOCK AT WORK
DO NOT DISTURB!

"You're gonna wake up with your head shaved one of these days, Harden," Jim meditated as he picked up the paper and folded it into an airplane."Maybe more."

Graff sat down and leaned back on the chair, trying to spot an unopened bottle on one of the tables. Great job Jimmy boy, you finally have a bunk and you're sleeping on the floor. The paper plane took off from his hand in the direction of the closed hatch, gliding gracefully on the alcohol vapors that still filled the room.

"Im' the first one here, a new low." Layne said as he lit up a cigarette. He sat down and leaned back on a chair while resting his feet one over the other on a table and blew smoke rings in the air.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin. He flicked the coin into the air several times before proceeding to roll the coin down his each of fingers, then repeating the entire process.

T-1 Day - 0745 Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea

Alex finished his breakfast and was about to place his tray on the little rack next to the door when he saw the chief engineer walking into the mess hall. He smiled at her and she smiled back but just carried on with the group she was with. Alex looked at the clock on the bulkhead and saw that it was 07:48. Frak, just got 12 minutes to get to the CIC. Walking out of the mess hall, he had a huge smile over his face.

----15 and a half hours ago----

Alex walked into the mess hall and saw Lou sat at a table with two cup's of liquid. He reached the table and looked at her.

"Mind if I join you?"

She looked up and laughed.

"Why would I mind when I invited you out for this?"

Alex sat down and smiled at her.

"So what have you got us to drink."

Handing him a cup, she raised it in front of him.

"This is the finest home brew moonshine that comes out of a Snipe's distillary, not that such a thing exsists."

She winked as she said the last part, she then proceeded to down the cup in one.

"Alway's hits the spot."

Alex raised it and tried to copy her by downing it in one. He managed about half of the cup before he couldn't stand the taste and began to cough and splutter. A few people looked at him but then turned back to their own food, Lou just laughed.

"Can always tell when it's someones first time. Anyway should be go and get some food?"

----Present time--0755----

Alex snapped himself out of the daydream as he reached the CIC and saw the Commander standing at the communication table. Walking up to the opposite side of the table he Saluted the commander.

"Ensign Alexander Sola reporting Sir!

He held the Salute, awaiting a reply from the commander.

T-1 Day - 0815 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CIC

Cavil had finished his work on the Crew manifest, having dividing the Air Group into the requested 10 squadrons. It didn't particularly matter to him whether or not the Air Group was at its peak efficiency or not - seeing as how in only a few short hours they would all be dead.

He'd made his way over to the Communications Officer, to talk to him about delivering a speech via the shipwide before the launch and connecting their comm system to the Dock's so Admiral Parker could give them the proper sending off when he heard another voice from beside him.

"Ensign Alexander Sola reporting Sir!"

The Commander returned his salute.

"At ease, Ensign. You all keep snapping to attention like that and you're liable to break an arm."

Alex dropped the Salute and gave a weak smile back to the him.

Cavil smiled broadly.

"What's on your mind, Sola?"

He was completely un-prepared for the question, but he answered it.

"Well it's just my first Duty Shift while being in CIC. Plus i thought that it was proper to report to the Officer in Charge of the deck, Sir!"

"You're absolutely right, Ensign. That is indeed what is proper, and I commend you for following protocol - Lords know the Pilots certainly wont. But I'd like to relax a little bit. Enjoy the day. After all, it isn't every day you get to stand on the bridge of your new ship as it launches, am I right Ensign?"

Sola looked unsure of how to respond, so Cavil didn't give him a chance to. Instead, he put an arm around the younger man's back and walked him over to his station. Leaning in a little bit, he spoke softly.

"Normally I wouldn't act this way, Ensign, but in this case I think discretion is necessary. I don't want to get the crew all worried about the possibility of attack on their first day. What's the status of your backup system? Will we be able to make the switch if necessary?"

Alex half relaxed but also felt a bit unsure about how to react as the commander himself walked him over to his station.

Listening to what the commander was saying Alex felt himself relaxing more.

"Me and Major Woods have completed the secondary path ways, they will be up on my screen to activate as soon as i'm logged in. Woods has secondary activation access in main Engineering. We have also added the Viper launch control systems to the transfer as a just in case. But yes it will be ready should we need it Sir."

Alex sat down and logged into the system. A screen flashed up indicating the program to transfer power from the reactor's was ready and armed.

"Good," said the Commander. "Good work, both of you. Now our only problem is hoping that we wont need this. If the CNP is working properly by 1400 I'm happy. If it's not... Then we launch with it anyways and make the change after shipping out. No need for the five to ten minute delay making the change would cost us."

"Thank you, Ensign," he said. "If there's anything I can help you with, I'll be right here. In the mean time before the launch I recommend you get acquainted with the tactical systems. Make sure the CNP isn't interfering with any of her functions."

He gave a quick, short, salute and patted Sola on the back.

"Good luck, kid."

''And so I say, you're scared? How do you think I'll feel walking out of these woods on my own!?'' Several of the Jocks, mostly the younger male pilots, chuckled at Harden's joke. Alexa Witt stalked away from the group, her normally comforting features hardened. ''You're a sick fracker, Chuckles.''

Rylan smiled, the memory of the joke and amusement at Witt's anger mingling into a solid feeling of warmth. Arms crossed, he walked over to the gaggle of thigh slapping Sticks.

''What's up with the dress greys?'' A junior, Steen, questioned Rylan as he chewed on a toothpick. The boy reeked of cliche.

Rylan placed his hands in his pockets, leant back on his heels and stared down at himself - as if to see what he was actually wearing.

''Figured I needed a change. Plus,'' he looked down, scratched behind his ear and whispered ''I've misplaced a boot somewhere on my travels. Probably never see that thing again...''

''Probably up Simmons' and Kalam's collective asses, you chewed 'em out hard enough. What did you do with all that mix in the end, anyway?''

Rylan shook his head.

''You - all of it?''

Rylan nodded.

----

Deep in the bowles of a ship, it hatched a plan, a desperate mix of fate and luck that would bring it home - or nothing...

The wind blew, a slow gust of wind pushing through the cavernous corridors of the maintainance deck. A bootlace wriggled in the wind, catching weary eyes...

''Hay Jimmy, give us a sec! A boot... Ell-tee Andreu Rylan. Well it ain't his now!''

----

I wonder how they'll react..., Elena thought, smiling, as the door to the briefing room slid open. They were all there. Harden, of course, in the middle of a laughing crowd. Sometimes a little over the top in his quipping behavior but overall a good leader and a not-so-bad pilot.

She had flown a CAP with everyone of them, so she knew what their skills were like. Believing in the own judgement was a cardinal rule, if one was in a leading position.

Witt had distanced herself from the group around Harden and, while he started narrating another joke, noticed the CAG coming in.

"Attention on Deck!", she called out and all the heads swung around, just before everybody else followed suit and sprung to attention.

Elena got to the front, replying a casual "At ease" while looking them up and down. She spoke out what she knew was being on their minds:
"I bet you don't have any idea why you're here, now have you?"

A grin spread on her face, as the Squadron leaders shook their heads collectively, while the other pilots didn't even dare to do that.

"No punishments or anything like that, I can assure you. That is, if you wouldn't know anything you would deserve to be chastised for."

Rylan just smiled, a lopsided grin. A handful of jocks elbowed each other in the side and traded knowing winks, thinking of their own wanton acts of sin and vice.

"Anyways... You know that the Air Group was originally divided into three squadrons. And you also know that giving precise, live saving orders to 50+ pilots in the middle of battle would be a bitch. Therefore, I decided to divide the Air Group further, with the approval of the XO and the CO, into ten Squadrons. Now, could anybody tell me, how many of us, except for me, are in this room?"

Her lips formed a broad smile, as some of the pilots looked around, counting, while others got already where she was getting to and returned her gaze in amazement or, as at least Harden and McCollough did, approval.

"Congratulations, Ladies and Gentlemen. You can strike the Junior Grades from your ranks. Any questions, so far?"

Some of the hard as nails female pilots suddenly lost their composure and brought their hands up to their mouths, squealing like school girls and shouting into each others ears. The young boys jumped up and down like they had won the championship game, the older male pilots looking on like proud fathers. Andreu's smile changed. The toothy grin faded, his lips coming together, one side of his mouth tightening into a solomn remnant of happyness.

Dime-a-dozen. Twenty five years...

Rylan raised his hand, forcing his old smile on his face, pride stinging behind his eyes. An old voice, undulating tones so sharp and clear it could slip through heart strings, rang in his ears like a quiet song...

----

She sat there, soaking wet from the rain, her hair a deep shade of red and twisted in tangles. He stood a little further away, a heavy weight resting inside of him.

''What about me and Molly, Andreu? Aren't we just as important?''

She looked up at him, only one of her perfect emerald eyes visable to pierce into him. He didn't know what to say, couldn't think of a way out. She looked away,

''One of these days you'll look back - and there'll be nothing there. You'll just have traded everything else in your life for a few seconds of exhilaration in your seat – but you'll be empty. I hope it hurts, when it comes.''

----


''Do we at least still get paid the same?'' He laughed, as did a few of the other pilots still riding the high of the 'good' news.

"Yeah, same payment. But a Captain's wage isn't that much higher, almost not worth all the trouble", she responded, winking.

Though, she looked through his grimace. His eyes gave him away. He was older than most of the crew and had probably, in a way, enjoyed being one of the few Lieutenants aboard. She was aware of the medical comment in his file: 'Fit enough for flying a Viper savely; first signs of aging.' He was in his early fourties and 'only' a Squadron leader, while she was over ten years younger and his superior.

She wouldn't let this point slip but she wouldn't address it in front of everybody else, neither.

"Any other questions?"

Rylan considered spitting at Steen, the cocky son of a bitch always ran his mouth, always trying to be the joker. Right now, Rylan wasn't in the mood. He could have wrapped his hands around the boys neck and drank in the look in the kids eyes as life drifted away from him. He bit back the surge, anger at his impotence against fate, and asked a question of the Ice Queen instead.

''Do we get to choose which pilots we keep and those we get to hand off on the FNGs?''

"Yes, you will, over all, have a free hand. But I want to know who you choose. Lists. Bureaucracy is something we have to deal with. The messier part of your jobs, in my opinion."

Some of them chuckled at her remark.

"Anything else?"

To her surprise, Lieutenant Witt raised her hand. Her mien was serious.
"Not that I'm not thankful but... why me? Why us?"

"I've been... sort of testing all of you during the last week", she responded genuinely. "Had a CAP every day, each time with another one of you. Making sure that you don't fly by book but by heart. Watched you acting around other pilots. Nothing about my choice is random."

Witt nodded slowly, looking at the floor, somewhat more thought- than cheerful.
Elena remained silent for another couple of seconds, giving a chance to ask more questions. But nobody else made a move. So...

"Please hand me your lists until noon. We're shipping out today, people. I don't want the Air Group to be the only part of the crew that's not prepared. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!", they shouted in unison. She nodded in approval.

"I'll pass word of the first briefing, once I get informed by the Commander. You're dismissed."

A wave of talk washed over her. Even before standing up, they started their chatter, slowly heading for the exit.

"Mr. Rylan, can I have a word with you?"

''Whats up boss?''

Elena waited until the automated doors had closed behind the lot of them, preventing them from hearing any of their conversation, then gave him a serious look.

"You didn't seem really happy about being one ell-tee among ten instead of three. Now, I don't expect you to plot a coup against me or hold a grudge of any kind but it seems that it's a little hard for you to swallow that somebody who's significantly younger than you is in the superior position. That you've got definitely more experience than me but have to obey to my orders. Honestly: Isn't that at least partially the case?"

''Wouldn't you be at least a little yanked? I worked hard for Lieutenant, hard for Ensign and ell-teen jay-gee twice,'' Rylan bit on the word, ''only for the rank to be handed out on the whim of the CAG? To have the number of people under me sliced into a fraction of what it was, as if I wasn't competant enough for the job? Kinda makes the whole thing seem a bit worthless.''

Shrugging his shoulder, he sighed, regretful of the way he had spoken. ''It's not as if the idea of splitting the squads was a bad idea, its just - froget about it, I'm just being grumpy. And about you as CAG... frack it, I don't have a problem. You seem like a good stick, you aren't a walking regulations manual and you can keep the boys in line when they've been bad puppies. I'll only have a problem if I feel you aren't doing your job, that you don't deserve the position. Seriously, forget about me. I'm a big boy, I can cope.'' Rylan smiled a fake looking grin, his eyes closed and head slightly to the side, accompanied by a peace sign.

"I trust you to be a good pilot and leader. But about 60 Pilots aren't so easy to lead, if you are shot at. And everybody who I promoted to a Squadron leader was a Lieutenant before. You earned it twice, that's right. And that's why there's something I want to tell you in privacy: As far as I'm concerned, you are the next in line for CAG. You're, not only by age, the senior pilot."

''Thankyou; that gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside.'' He pulled a cigarette packet out of his undone jacket and lit it with a cheap pink disposable lighter. He offered the pack to the CAG.

He said, ''Although, I'm going to be tempted to murder you and take your place now.'' with a mischevious grin spreading across his lips. His face became serious for a moment and he put a finger on his chin, looking deep in thought.

"Trying to kill me with smoke?", she grinned. "No, thank you. I am a non-smoker."

''I have a suggestion to make though: You're a bit distant. By my reckoning there are two ways to lead; through fear or respect. You're taking a third route, hoping that everyone is driven by a sense of duty. You'll have problems with pilots like Nagala, resorting to making him scared of you. If you make the sticks love you, then they won't want to do anything to make you hate them. Come and have a drink in the rec room with us all, get to know us and let us get to know you. I think you could literally make a load of the boys love you.''

A laugh escaped her lips.
"Nice. That's exactly what I want: A whole Air Group of adorers. Or enemies. But as for the distance, I just had a hell a lot to do to get us ready for shipping out. That's over now. At least I hope so... Thanks for the advice, though."

''No problems, Captain. Anything else? I've got plenty of work to ignore.''

"So far, that's all. Feels like today's gonna be busier and messier than the last week. I can already feel that..."

T-1 Day - 0945 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CIC

Alex had been running through all the diagnostic programs to double check the status of the CNP within the Tactical systems of the ship. Running through the Magazine loading systems a second time Alex leaned back in his chair and gave a slight yawn. Although it was interesting to lean the full capability of the fearsome ship, he was getting slightly bored of running the diagnostics and either getting a green or the CNP kicking in and restarting the diagnostic, while crashing it.

Alex decided to take a quick look around CIC, most of the crew were working at getting the CNP to co-operate with the ships system's, a few were installing the last of the monitor's for the CIC crew. Alex hoped that they wouldn't need his program but it was ready to go, sitting in the background of his computer terminal. Hearing a beep from his terminal he turned back towards it.

*Magazine loading functions at 100%*

Alex swung back around and printed the finalized report of all the diagnostics. Grabbing a folder and placing it all inside he got up and walked over to the Command table.

"All diagnostic's have reported the tactical systems are fully functional. The CNP is causing problems but if we get it sorted or erase it, all systems will be ready."

Dropping the report on the small pile Alex walked back to his station and began running through all the system's again just as a precaution. The commander's "be prepared for anything" was worring Alex that something might happen, and he wanted to be fully prepared should anything actually happen.

He rushed by another building, this time close enough to see the windows shatter from the sound of his viper's engines. It didnt matter, they were following him, he knew they were there - whoever 'they' were - and he had to get away.

A building appeared in front of him, but he somehow avoided it and continued over a narrow street, covered in thick smoke. Darting out into the open again, Graff realized he was now flying above a park and suddenly his memory kicked in. Wexford Park? How? Why?

That annoying feeling in the back of his head, warning him he was still being followed, poked him again. The viper rocketed forward on its own, like it was trying to get away. The park below was replaced by city streets again, only this time they were deserted, as if someone had cleaned away all the people and all traces of them.

Yet Graff was hearing muffled shouts and chanting from somewhere, getting closer and closer; he tried to make out what they were saying, but another building popped up in front of him. He pulled back on the stick violently and the viper headed upwards, while Graff felt gravity quickly dragging him down, falling through his seat, through the viper..

He opened his eyes just before he - and the chair he'd fallen asleep on - hit the floor, and just before the hatch opened and a dozen or so cheerfull jocks flooded the room.
The first one in, and the first to spot Graff, was Harden, who immediately bent over laughing. Jim got up, somewhat annoyed with the situation but trying not to show it, and walked up to Harden.

"Carefull with that laughing fatso, you're using up all our air. We're in space you know." The other man started laughing even harder. "Yeah, yeah, hilarious.. you got a smoke?"

Chuckles pulled out a pack from his pocket and handed it to Graff. He took out 3 cigarettes, lit himself one then put the pack in his pocket and handed the other 2 back to Harden. The surprise and indignation on his face amused Graff, and he smiled for the first time that morning.

"That's for the sign, and that drink you still owe me." He said just as the other man was about to open his mouth. "Anyway, whats with the party. Was it someone's 1000'th and I dont know?"

Chuckles swallowed the curses he was about to let out and responded:
"Well, CAG decided we need more squads. More squads means more squad leaders. So now there's about 7 more people you have to salute." Harden grinned as one of the younger pilots attempted a "combat landing" on a table in the cheers of the others.

"Oh joy.."

Approaching the Pilot's Rec, John could hear the cheers and hollering emanating from behind the closed door. He gave the door a swift and heavy kick and watched, satisfied, as it swung open for him.

Stepping into the large pilot's rec, he saw Para being lifted up by some of the other pilots and carried around the room like a war hero.

Everyone was chanting "Lieutenant Para, leader of a Squad! Buckle up and grab your rod!"

"What the hell?"

Phoenix came up to him, looking slightly annoyed.

"Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

She sighed. "I've been promoted. So have the rest of those apes."

He looked at her rank pip, saw that she was now a full blown Lieutenant.

"I thought that was a good thing."

"Well," she said. "Now I'm in charge of a full squadron of Vipers... I don't know if I'm up for that."

"Sure you are," he said. "Hell, you're more suited for it than I am. At least I didn't get promoted."

That made her smile.

"Well, rumour has it the CAG wants to bust you up anyways."

"Yeah, she'd try. Maybe I'd let her get in a couple of punches."

Phoenix rolled her eyes at him. John just shrugged and took a seat at one of the tables in the quiet corner of the room. The newly-promoted Lieutenant Witt joined him. Much to his chagrin, the hooting and hollering was far from being muted in that corner of the room;

"Lieutenant Heller, leader of the pack! On your toes or on your back!"

"How the hell did they get Lieutenant?" he asked, earnestly. "They seem like a bunch of idiots to me. Not at all like you. At least you're deserving of the position. Probably the smartest, most incredible girl I know."

She blushed, and John felt a little sheepish. She was quicker to recover from it than he was.

"Yeah, well. We'll see how you feel about me when I bust you down to Recruit and make you swab the decks," she said, laughing the tension away.

"Don't remind me!" he said. "I spent hours in that frakkin' hangar deck the other day."

Phoenix looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Aren't you supposed to be in there again today?"

He looked across to the vacant table beside them, noticed a half-empty bottle of Ambrosia, and picked it up. It was room temperature, and a weak brew, but he decided it was worth it, if it wouldn't go to waste.

"Uhhh... Yeah. But screw that. I'd way rather be here. Chief can come in here and get me herself."

"Johnny Nagala, you are too much."

"I know."

He put the warm bottle to his lips and downed a gulp.

"Gods, this taste's terrible! ... Want some?"

They laughed together.

T-1 Day – 1003 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Starboard Flight Pod

Tracey's earlier jubilation had left her. Nagala still hadn't shown up, and sending a younger deckhand scurrying off to find him in the broom closet he was using for a bunk had yielded no results either.

"Gods," she said. "I'm glad he's not my responsibility."

She walked over to the phone again, this time opting for a personal call, rather than a shipwide.

"This is the Chief for the CAG," she said. "Could you please put me through to the Pilot's Ready Room?"

"Thank you."

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

Rylan had just turned around as the phone rang. Elena gave it a wary look and commented "See what I mean?" about the last thing she told him. He grinned slightly, said his farewell and left while she went and picked it up.

"This is the CAG?"

Just as she expected, the voice of Ream answered her.
"Patching you through to the Chief, sir."

The background noises of the CIC were replaced by static, giving Elena enough time to stare at the floor and get a bad feeling. She could already imagine what this call would be about, though she hoped to be wrong.
With a click, the static vanished and she could hear unmistakeable sounds of the hangar deck.

"CAG. What's the matter, Tracey?", she asked, her bad feeling at its peak.

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

Tracey sighed, doubting whether she even had to tell Elana what was the matter. The CAG's tone of voice gave it all away.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this," she responded, twirling the phone cord around a nervous finger.

"Nagala hasn't shown up today. I sent Ericson to find him, but his rack was empty too..." she started to realize how angry she was.

If there was one thing that really pissed her off it was people who wouldn't show her any of the respect she had worked hard to earn.

"And the jackass knows that he's supposed to be here. I even called for him over the shipwide!"

She sighed, trying to calm down.

"How do you put up with him?"

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

"Gave him warnings and small penalties, to show him his place. But I knew that that wouldn't work", she sighed, while her stomach seemed to be on fire. She had been right.

"Son of a bitch...", she muttered under her breath but directly into the phone so that the Chief would hear her anyway. Her hand holding it clenched to a fist around the receiver.

"I can imagine where he'll be. Nagala will be with you in less than 20 minutes. Or have a trip to sickbay. I'll figure that out on the way. But you better don't count on his appearance."

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

"All right," said Tracey, with obvious concern in her voice. If the situation was this bad here at home, how bad would it get once they'd launched?

Maybe it'll get better, she told herself. After all, people are unpredictable.

"Thanks, Elana. I hope for the former, but I guess some times people need a bit of sense knocked into them... Lords know I have on occasion."

At that, she smiled. Remembering the foolishness of her younger years. Maybe Nagala just needed to grow up a little.

"I'll talk to you later."

With that, she hung up the phone and turned back to her hangar deck. In only a few hours they had to be ready to ship out, and she was going to have them ready.

"All right, let's go!" she shouted over the din of welding and sawing. "Let's go! Back to work, Parker."

Joint Post By:
Elana Vance
Tracey Graham

T-1 Day – 1027 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Pilot's Rec

The conversation went uphill from there - although that could've just been the booze. Someone else had finally caught on to the cook's schemes and bought several large cases of some Aerelonian Ale. It tasted like piss, but it got you drunk hard and fast. John was quickly on his way down the tantalizing stream that was intoxication.

"Well..." he said, collecting his thoughts before speaking. "My father used to have this look, you see.. could frakking melt the armor plating off a Battlestar. And when he'd catch you doing someth-"

"Drifter!"

It was Chuckles... Harden... Chuckles. Whatever.

"What's up, my man?"

"Looks like the CAG's coming."

"Oh.. is that all?"

"Uhhh... You might want to hide or something."

"What?" John was confused. Why would he hide from the CAG? What would she have to be mad at him about?

Oh yeah.. right, he thought, suddenly remembering.

"Johnny," said Phoenix with a sly grin. She'd given in and had a few and Nagala was pleased to find that she was somewhat of a lightweight. "I think you're in trouble."

"No shit," he said. "Think she'll bend me over her knee and spank me?"

"I think you're frakked."

She bent over the table laughing. His stomach tightened, the first traces of fear finally beginning to grasp at him. Things went fast from there. Fast footsteps were audible through the thick automated steel door, letting the sounds inside the room die down. As the bulkhead slid open, it was like an irresistable catastrophe presenting itself. The CAG stood there and she didn't even try to conceal her cold anger. Not this time. If it had to come to a showdown of wills, or even physical power, she was all set.

John stared at the hatch as it opened. The chanting died down and a few people tried to slide bottles and smokes behind their back. He knew it didn't matter. She wasn't there to bust them for drinking or smoking. She was there for him.

"Shiiiit."

Rylan flipped his eye-patch from one eye to the other, getting a better view of the Ice Queen standing silouetted in the hatchway. Every eye in the room was either on the Captain or Drifter, Rylan's smokey Triad table included. He rolled a fat, stubby cigar around in his mouth, malice dripping from the corner of his lips. Had a bad hand this round anyway, a show might be nice.

The room suddenly went silent and Graff felt a cold chill running down his spine. Turning around in his seat to see what was going on he spotted the CAG, daggers in her eyes, heading to a table on the other side of the room. He couldnt see who was sitting there, but he didnt need to; only one person on the whole boat could piss off the CAG to that extent.
He lost interest in the subject and turned back to his table to finish off what was left of his ale. The kid better be up to his eyeballs in ambrosia though, or he's gonna remember this one for the rest of his life.

Maybe I'll give him a chance, a small chance to run over to the hangar deck and work nonstop for 48 hours, to make up... Or I offer him to clean every inch of every launch tube with a tooth brush..., she thought while looking out for him. And as she spotted him, her eyes seemed to sparkle, as if she was about to shoot a laserbeam.

But her voice was surprisingly calm, as she drew closer to him, though an aura of bloodlust appeared around her.
"Nagala... Would you please tell me, WHY THE FRAK YOU AREN'T ON THE HANGAR DECK?!", she yelled at three feet distance to him.

"Uhhhh..." was all that escaped his lips. He looked around, hoping someone would come to his aid. Make something up.. anything. Nobody did.

"Sorry, sir... I guess I forgot," came out. It seemed reasonably enough in his slightly drunken haze. Not the greatest lie ever, but it would do.

"Long shifts can do that, you know?" now he was rambling.

Shut up! Shut up! his brain screamed. Frak that. This is funny, responded his mouth. I think I'm gonna throw up, intruded his gut.

"Maybe I ought to go lie down. Get some sleep. Oh no, that's right. You gave my bunk away.. Bitch."

Everyone stared at him. He had just crossed the line too many times. He knew it and the silence that surrounded him was deafening. He wanted to scream.

OH FRAK!!!

To the great surprise of all the people who watched, Elena... smiled. The hard expression on her face was replaced by an almost cheery one. But a closer look at her showed that it was somehow misplaced. Her lips smiled while her eyes were freezing, showing why her callsign was 'Ice'.

"Okay." Her voice was alarmingly calm. She slowly raised her hands to her throat and started unbuttoning the jacket of her uniform.

"Harden, Jackson", she said with a sweet voice that made both addressed pilots shiver, "put some of those tables away and make room." They didn't move an inch, completely bewildered by the strange command.

"That's an order", she whispered in a sweet tone, and they realized once again how angry she was, now hurrying to do their job.

John watched as the other pilots scurried to grab tables and chairs and move them to the side of the room. He gulped, but didn't take his eyes off the CAG for one second.

She hung her jacket over a nearby chair, stretched her neck and shoulders and faced Nagala. At once, the smile and her treacly voice vanished.

"Stand up, Nagala. If you don't want to work on the hangar deck, you'd obviously like some free time. And the best excuse for that is a trip to sickbay."

The strain around them was palpable. Nobody dared to speak, breath or even blink. Some would have rather expected the CAG to just smack him without warning, others to send him to the Brig.

"Uhhhh...." He couldn't speak. His mind was racing, trying to find an intelligent way out of his situation.

Gods dammit, Nagla, he told himself. When are you ever going to think ahead?

"Come on. You're the one talking about 'decking somebody' all the time. Now that you're the one to be decked, you're afraid? Or did the booze liquify all of your guts? Get up. There are no ranks in this. Just beating some frakking sense into you. Humiliating you in front of all these nice people. If you want a reason to respect me and my authority as the CAG, I don't care, if it is because you are afraid."

She clenched her fists and her knuckles made crackling sounds. By that time, Harden, Jackson and some volunteers had made some space.

"But as there are no ranks or rules, we'll put stakes into this. If I beat you, you'll sleep in the Brig or the sickbay for three days. I don't care which of those. And you'll work on the hangar deck for at least four weeks. No alcohol, no messing around, no time outs. You will finish your shifts for the Air Group and report straight to the Chief. Once you're done, you'll go back to that cozy little storage room you sleep in, and you will stay there until the technicians have fixed the last duty locker. No ifs, no ands, no buts. No complaints or provocations anymore, unless you want us to repeat this."

Fine, he thought, finally coming to terms with the fact that he was not getting out of the situation he'd got himself into. If she wants to go, we'll go.

He put his hands on the table and pushed back, his chair sliding along the deck with an audible scrape. Phoenix stared wide-eyed at him.

"John," she said quietly. "Don't do this."

"CAG wants a fight," he said. "And I am not a coward..."

Then he thought of something else.

"What if I win?" he asked.

"In the case that I lose...", she took a couple of seconds to think it through carefully, then found something he would probably accept, "I'll allow you to stay in my quarters until the technicians are done. And you will be relieved after you've helped the deck crew remove every last CNP unit. That's the deal."

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

This Joint Post Made By:

Elena Vance
John Nagala
James Graff
Andreu Rylan

T-1 Day - 1237 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Mess Hall

Ethan smiled slightly as he looked across the table and watched his future wife feed there daughter on her lap. Despite Samantha's reassurance, Alexandra was shying away from the food Samantha was trying to feed her. Every once in a while, Alex would get caught in a corner and would reluctantly eat the food. But that didn't mean she had to go down quietly. A battle of wills between mother and daughter was occurring before his eyes and he couldn't have enjoyed it more.

"Alex," Samantha said firmly as her daughter kept her mouth firmly shut. "Do you want to sit here all day?"

Alex shook her head wildly, indicating that she definitely did NOT want to stay in the mess hall for the rest of the day.

"Mhmm. Would you rather go see the big space planes?"

Alex's eyes widened at this as she looked at her mother then to her father then back to her mother. She proceeded to shake her head fervently. "Can I sit in it?" she asked shyly.

"We'll see little bug. But first you've got to finish eating your food. Then we'll go see the big space planes," Ethan said smiling as he looked back at Samantha who was now getting rushed by Alex to feed her more quickly. Ethan laughed silently at his daughters sudden change in mood towards food.

A few minutes later, Ethan rose from his seat and took Alex in his arms. The young girl was bouncing in excitement at the idea of sitting in the big space fighters. Reaching out, Ethan took hold of Samantha's hand as the small family started walking out of the cafeteria. The two made eye contact and Ethan smiled knowingly.

It seemed their little girl inherited their love of Vipers as well.

T-1 Day – 1033 – Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea – Pilot's Rec

"Fine," John found himself saying again. "That's the deal."

Rylan pushed himself up, the weight of dread trying to crush him back down to his seat. It only took a handful of steps to move over to Elena - but each one felt like a battle to forge through the tension in the atmosphere. He stood in front of her for a moment, looking into her face - determination, seething indignation. He leaned in close to one of her ears and whispered, ''I'd just like to say what a fraking stupid idea this is - and that he can not win.''

"He's got a fair chance", she whispered back without taking a look at him. But I will take mine. And I'm going to make sure that I'll never have to repeat this.

Backing off a little he pulled his flight suit off his shoulders and turned to talk to the audience. ''All right, back off away from the middle, everyone to the walls of the room you damn mouth-breathers. Someone get a pool going and put me down for 20 on Ice - it's fight night, and we're gunna have a good clean frack up.''

It would have bothered her to watch Rylan go with it, if she had been 'on duty'. Making bets on her felt like good ol' times, like she was a kid again, no older than 15 and breaking the jaw of the neighborhood's bully in front of all of his pals for pushing her around her all the time. There were no feelings in her. Fighting was part of her life. She had to grow up with it. And no Nagala could make her afraid of it. Yet, she somehow got a bad feeling, while she made first steps around the circle and looked out for his reactions.

John watched as the old Lieutenant whispered something in the CAG's ear. He was sure it was something along the lines of "you'd better kick his ass or we're all frakked." Then he turned to everyone and made his little announcement. Obviously, he wanted everyone in on the CAG's angle. What an ass. Out of everyone there he ought to be the most sore at her and here he was taking her side in this.

Nagala cracked his neck, trying to ignore the sense of panic in his belly and the bad taste in his mouth that, for some reason, was all of a sudden trying to make itself known. Everyone moved off to the side and the CAG moved into the center of the room, looking at him with a 'come and get me' expression in her eyes. She was no longer the CAG, no longer a captain. She was just another face, another Viper Jock he'd have to beat some sense into. She was just Ice.

Here goes nothin'.

He moved into the center of the room with her, fists up, ready for anything; ready to deflect the first blow - or to deliver it. For a while they just stared at eachother, slowly circling around. He didn't take his eyes off her. Not to look at Chuckles or Phoenix or Graff or that son of a bitch LT Rylan. He was probably real smug right about now, with his wads of cash sitting on the table. John wished it was him he had to fight instead of the CAG. He'd rather fight almost anyone else. Even the XO.. but he had no idea why.

Then - all of a sudden - the fight started.

At the first look, Elena could really see no difference between him and every bar brawler she'd ever met, seeming wobbly and unable to get a firm balance. The combat training showed but that was nothing she was afraid of. She was going another way.

With no intention to wait forever, she made a fast step to the left, bluffed one to the right, wanting him to look through the bluff, then found a balance with the inertia and raised her left foot. There was barely anything he could do. His reactions were slowed down. She brushed his ellbow, as he tried to block, but hit the side of his stomach anyway and had backed away from him again before even the echo of her kick had died away.

John spat. His side felt like it had just been split open.

"Frak..."

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked at her.

So that's how it's gonna be.

A lot of "Uh"'s went through, as if they were sensing the pain aswell. She could clearly hear somebody betting another fifty cubits on her, or at least trying to, while others asked why she was using her legs. No rules, it went through her mind, as if she was answering the question, This isn't a fist fight. Not even a fight night. Everything I've got against what the ambrosia and ale left behind.

She looked into his face. But now, her eyes were empty. No feelings left. Just routine. Like she was a killing machine going through an everyday occasion.

The pain in his side helped to sober him up a little, but John knew he was still unstable and it was going to take all his strength just to hit her where it counted. She clearly was abandoning normal sparring rules, so he would too. With a shout, he dove at her face with a wild right hook, she easily blocked it. His left fist slammed into her ribs with what he figured was nearly the blow her kick had given him.

Payback.

The hit was hard. There was no doubt that he had physical strength. But he didn't hit a weak spot. Her ribcage protected her inner organs, prevented most of the pain to even occur. The empty expression on her face didn't change. Even the worst pain he could give, inflict to her would only show in a bite on her lower lip. She was lucky that he hadn't hit a little below, at her stomach, though. Now, she turned his attack against him.

Elena had blocked his fist with pushing it up and grabbing it with her other hand. Meanwhile, she had also caught his arm that got through her defenses, and spread her arms. His were crossing each other and the fact that she could do it though he struggled showed that they were even in strength. But she didn't leave it at that. Even before her movement was finished, she pulled him towards herself and gave him a crushing blow into the stomach with her knee.

I won't lose. I don't lose anymore. Nothing else went through her mind. It was all shut down. Everything else subconscious and automated.
Another hit sent him flying, as she lost her grip on his ankles. Nagala stumbled but stayed on his feet, still quite close to her.

John struggled against her grip, but the bitch was strong. Probably as strong as he was. Then, she pulled him towards her and he felt a sharp pain in the gut. He exhaled, the air forced from his lungs by her knee. As he gasped for a breath, he felt himself being thrown backwards. He nearly lost it there, nearly hit the tables behind him and gave up. But he didn't. His feet caught the deck and somehow he managed to stay standing.

Elana's ears told her that around them was a monstrous noise, as the other pilots yelled, cheered and screamed, a raw mixture of excitement and fear. Single words and voices hovered over the racket. Somewhere, Elena was sure to hear Lieutenant Witt yell something at Nagala but she couldn't tell what it was. And she didn't care, really. It would be over soon.

"Why wont any of you stop this?!" John heard from nearby.

It was Phoenix. He thought about it. Thought about giving up. For her? For him? What good would it do in the long run? One of them had to win, and he sure as hell didn't want to give Ice the pleasure of victory.

Instead, he sucked in the pain and let it make him stronger. He felt his muscles tighten, the raw energy of the fight taking over his brain. He watched as she stared coldly at him, her eyes full of harmful intent.

He made a break for her, aiming no longer to hit her, but to take her down. He was too fast for her this time, his shoulder slamming firmly into her gut. He felt her arms instinctively wrap around his neck and arm as they both tumbled over to the floor.

He coughed as the cold deck slammed against his face. Her back was down, and his was still up. That meant he had control. She was already struggling to get free from his grip, though, and he tried to get in a good shot at her jaw while they were still both down. He missed.

Frak.

Then he felt her fist against the side of his head and everything went fuzzy. He let go, and slid over to the deck, shouts of "oh!" and "damn!" ringing in his ears. Then, she was on top of him, pinning him to the deck with a strength he couldn't believe. He put his arms up, trying to protect his head for the onslaught he knew was about to come.

Taking her by surprise, using his mass had been a good strategy. Or maybe rather a sign of despair. She had been in control from the very beginning. His chance just melted away. He screwed it up. They both knew that her standing up now wouldn't end it, even though she was bound to win. A drop of blood or motionlessness of either one... Nothing else would put a stop to it.

And she didn't want to disappoint him. She raised her arm, swung his block away and slammed her fist into his face, right at his cheek. She repeated. Two times, three times... The crowd could count it better than she herself.

A last one. Something he'll remember for the rest of his life, that he can take home to show daddy. A wave of inexplicable, causeless disgust washed over her. Her anger seemed to burn in her heart and her arm. A feeling of deep rooted hatred that didn't add up with the one she felt for this person in particular. She hesitated for a split second, then struck... and missed. It was that fraction of a second hesitation that saved his life.

No sound was audible. It was all too noisy for anything to be heard. Her hand felt... good. Too good. Not like she had just hit the metal plating of the deck with full strength. More like hitting a punching bag. But once she raised her arm again, Elena saw it: The dent. A small hollow, less than a third of an inch deep, roughly fist-shaped, not worth noticing under normal circumstances.

But there it was. Because one second ago, the deck had been perfectly even. There was no other explanation than that she was its cause. That she had hit it with a brutality that would have easily crushed bone. Would have ripped a skull open...

John couldn't believe his luck. She'd nearly had him beat, the first signs of unconsciousness starting to grip at him, when suddenly she had paused. He couldn't tell why.. didn't care. Her pause meant he had a chance for action. Before her fist came down again, he had just enough time to wriggle an inch of his arm free and dodge her incoming punch. There was a loud bang as her hand impacted on the deck, and he knew she wouldn't recover from that one any time soon. She looked shocked, her eyes no longer staring daggers through him, but instead eying the deck she had just slammed her no-doubt bloodied fist into. This was his chance.

He pulled his last ounce of strength together and jammed his stinging knuckles into her kidney. Her grip dissipated, and he used the oppourtunity to flip over again, struggling and wrestling her over onto her back and pinning her down with his knees. She stared blankly at him, a look of fear and defeat spreading across her features.

A couple more seconds went by and she stared at her hand in disbelief. Her motionless face was showing uncertainty. She didn't fight back as he pushed her over again. As he raised his hand, she didn't try to block. He didn't even need to actually hit her. She was staring at his face, terror in her eyes. Not caused by him, as she looked through him, past him, only taking the situation in subconsciously while her brain forged all the data together to two facts: That she had lost. And that, if she hadn't, she would have killed him.

John had no idea what kind of mental struggle was going on below him. All he knew was that she had stopped moving. Hell, she couldn't move. He had her good and pinned. If she could get out of that hold, then she deserved to win. Instead, she barely struggled. He grabbed her wrists and held them to the deck.

"Somebody better frakkin' count me out, here!"

She seemed to come back into the moment enough to put up a struggle as Chuckles counted down from ten, but her heart didn't seem in it. She was no longer prescient, her mind elsewhere. He didn't care. She'd started the fight, she'd been the first to strike...

"... Two... One!"

Chuckles looked like he couldn't believe it. Nagala had won the fight.

"What the frak?!" shouted someone from the other side of the room.

Another quipped in with, "This is bullshit!"

John agreed with them. As his mind cooled down after their brawl, he couldn't help but wonder why she had hesitated. Why she had gone blank. Why had he won? He shouldn't have... Shouldn't have been able to.

He stood up, looked down at the CAG. Something was dripping on his face and, as he reached up to examine it, felt a wave of pain.

"Holy frak!" he said and ran out through the hatch towards sickbay.

The bitch had broken his nose. He needed to get it fixed. The alcohol began to take hold again, mixing with the fatigue of battle. He found himself suddenly unable to focus, unable to remember which turns to take. He slumped over against the bulkhead and slid to the deck with a loud cough. The pain was so intense he couldn't keep his eyes open. Then everything went black.

T-1 Day - 1346 - The Outer Perimiter (12 Colonies) - Empty Space

The massive Baseship bathed in the light of the distant sun, its long spires glinting softly amidst the faint beams that penetrated into the deepest, darkest reaches of the universe. Amidst the many corridors, hangars, and missile bays, floated a single humanoid form, her eyes staring eternally upwards, a vacant expression masking the incredibly present mind. She was the hybrid, the brain, nervous system, and heart of the ship. It was a mere extension of her own form and, as she lay there in a pool of opaque fluid, she could feel the vibrations of the massive engine tingling all along her flesh - up and down her spine and out through her fingertips. It was magnificent.

"An unending book shall be written," she said. "It's pages stained with the unseemly decisions of the boaters. We sail upon the shores of oblivion and cannot abide the sheep that flock towards our bows. Supression. Humility. All shall know the true meaning of damnation when the water begins to flood."

A Three stood by the door, watching and listening. She knew there was more to what this Hybrid was saying than the gibberish the others heard. She could really hear the Hybrid's words for what they meant. What they symbolized. It was beautiful.

"The well of destiny opens and a new spring shall burst forth, the droplets collecting and falling again to rejuvenate the dead. Four... Three... Two... One."

The Three closed her eyes, readying herself for the mission ahead. It was imperative. It must go as planned, or the universe's balance would be thrown off and all could be lost. All could be forsaken.

"Jump!"


T-1 Day - 0155 - Caprica City - Colonial Network (Caprica Division) Studio

Kellan Brody tidied up her hair, which was cut stylishly short, but was mussed and unkempt. She hadn't been prepared for the news she was about to deliver, and the rush through the makeup department had left her feeling abnormally flustered. The prompter was rolling, and the pages she held contained the information, but she found herself unable to deliver it. Her mouth hung open like a fool. Then, all of a sudden, she began to speak.

"This is Kellan Brody with the Colonial Network's Channel 7 News program. I'm speaking to you live from Caprica City, where numerous reports have just come through of a.. possible.. Cylon attack upon the Colonies. Nuclear detonations have been reported on nearly all of the twelve worlds now, including Caprica, our home..."

She glanced at the news program's live feeds, divided up by city of origin. Many of them were simply static. The others showed images of screaming civilians, fleeing the explosions and burning rubble behind them.

"We.. uhh.. don't have any more information yet, but.. uh... No actual enemy has been sighted.. but there doesn't seem to be any doubt-"

There was an incredibly loud resounding boom and, without warning, the lights in the room flickered and suddenly went out. The room was dark for only a moment before the brilliant blinding light from outside burned through the windows, the force of the nuclear explosion shattering them to pieces. Kellan barely had time to look down at the large piece of glass lodged in her abdomen, the blood spraying on her powder blue suit, before she was engulfed within the bright light.

Then there was nothing.