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

T-1 Day - 1357 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CIC

Cavil inexplicably smirked. He knew what was happening and that, very soon, his burden would be coming to an end. No more forms, no more faked smiles and handshakes with the filthy humans he had come to know as The Admiralty. Had anyone seen him, then, they might've thought he was looking forward to the coming launch, his speech running through his head, and the pride swelling within him.

"Commander?"

It was Ream. Cavil's smile disappeared in an instant as he turned to face the young Communications Officer.

"Yes?"

"Uh.. you might want to see this sir. It's a Priority 1 Alert message from Fleet Headquarters. It was transmitted in the clear, sir."

"Really? In the clear? It must be important then."

"I'd.. I'd say so."

Ream held out a small piece of transmission paper, the sheet wiggling as the boy's hands shook, his trembling digits betraying his otherwise cool manner. Cavil took it and held it up to his chest to read it, old eyes scrutinizing the document before him.

"But.." he said, secretly feeling happier than ever. "This can't be."

"I'm afraid it is, sir. Transmission was confirmed. I checked it three times, sir..."

Cavil looked around the CIC, imagining the days of luxury ahead of him. He'd been promised a high government position amidst the new Imperial Senate on Caprica after the cleansing. His eyes told a different story than his heart, though, a look of anguish and grim resignation spreading across his aged face.

He stuffed the small page into his pocket and walked over to the nearest civilian contractor, who lay chest-deep under a console, his concentration on the mending of the numerous problems with the CNP program. He had no idea that all of these errors were intentional.

"Excuse me," said Cavil.

A head popped up from underneath the cables and looked at him with weary eyes.

"We need to get the CNP program running immediately. The ship needs to launch now."

"But.. we haven't finished with the repairs yet."

"I don't care," responded the Commander with reservation.

"Get it running. Now."

"Uh... Okay."

The Civilian took another confused look at Cavil then slipped a small wireless device out of his pocket. Holding down the talk button, he radioed the other team members.

"Commander says we must initiate CNP program now."

There was some static, then a response from the Civilian leader.

"Woah, what? Say again."

"I say again, we need to start the CNP now. Commander Cavil's orders."

T-1 Day - 1357 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CIC


Alex had finished running every diagnostic under the sun when Ream walked up to the commander with a worried look on his face. Alex decided to try to open the comm channels and see what was transmitted. Not getting in because of the heavy traffic Alex got his station ready just in case the commanders prediction had come true....

T-1 Day - 1357 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port Training Room (C-Deck)

The blank stare was still in her eyes, as Elena gazed at her bandaged hand, alone in the deserted room, her secret asylum. Her knuckles had started aching but still not in an appropriate measure. More of a tingling than the mind-blowing one it should be. Her bones would have to be broken. Instead, Doc Blaine had asked her, if she had cut herself while or after training with a sand bag. Her strength had ben super-natural, that was out of question. Was it all because of training? Adrenalin and other organic drugs? Because of feelings? Whatever it was, she had lost control over it. And losing control over herself, being a weapon dangerous to everybody, that was scaring her.

She was glad that, at least, the jocks seemed to understand why they had to keep their mouths shut tight. The XO would probably kick her ass, if he knew that she'd started a fight in the pilots' rec room. And he would kick the other pilots' asses for cheering and making bets instead of stopping them. Talking about it would make it worse for everybody. It's only a matter of time until the Colonel finds out, though. Only a matter of days, at the outside, until somebody tells a friend and gives us away.

It didn't really matter to her, though. Neither did the fact that she had lost her bet. Nagala could have her bunk or her couch, whatever he preferred. She wouldn't back away from it.
"Better tell Tracey, though", she murmured absent-mindedly and stood up, not caring to button her jacket up yet. Her organs seemed to liquify while she went to the hatch and turned right, towards the hangar deck. The bad feeling that something wasn't right grew with every step, and a whispering, beguiling voice in her subconsciousness told her that this feeling wasn't only about the immense power she seemed to possess...

T-1 Day - 1357 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port side main hull airlock 101

The cubit rolled over his fingers like a drunk, in fits and starts. He'd woken up here this morning - but the place had stuck in his mind. The sounds of the rest of the ship were almost utterly absent, the air-tight seals locking out the world, and no one came tramping in to drink themselves silly or looks for supplies.

I could move in here, hide away from everybody.

The thought of facing the pilots made him drop the octagonal coin, shattering the silent chamber. Control had slipped after the fight, rules were being ignored, respect for the squadron leaders was as low as he'd ever seen and Nagala was being hailed as some all conquering hero. Rylan hadn't had the guts to confront Vance about the consequences of the fight - and he most certainly didn't want to see her face in the forseeable future.

T-1 Day - 1350 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Sickbay

John lay in the soft bed, his earlier worries slipping away, new ones clawing their way in to replace their fleeting brothers. The drugs were helping, but the pain in his nose was still coming through in horrible waves - each one causing him to vomit in agony. He knew he'd never hear the end of it, that this might at last be his ticket out of the service. He didn't care that he would be kicked out with a dishonourable discharge. The CAG had had it coming.

As he felt another wave of pain and another uncontrollable wave of nausea wash over him, he realized his error.

Shoulda just frakkin' helped with the CNPs, he told himself. This is not frakking worth it.

Phoenix had come by to visit him earlier - not to comfort him - but to tell him what an idiot he was. He had barely been able to listen, let alone respond, and she had stormed off either out of anger or grief. He couldn't tell. Maybe both. He knew she was upset, and that the other jocks that had bet on Ice.. that being most of them.. were probably equally pissed off at him.

He doubled over the side of the bed and thew up into the bucket they'd given him, blood mixing with his bile to form a horrifying mixture below. He couldn't look at it. Couldn't handle it.

"I'm never going to frakking do this again," he moaned.

The other Jocks were probably chanting his name right now - those that had won money on him. They didn't care about him, about his pain. They only cared about their Godsforsaken cubits and their shiny careers. Nobody really cared about him... Maybe Phoenix.. but now even she wouldn't talk to him.

He hated himself just then. Hated his decisions, hated his father, hated everything with an equally strong and unwavering passion.

As he lay there, wallowing in his pain and his misery, he prayed for a release. He prayed for an end to it all.. but none would come.

Leaning back in his chair his eyelids began to droop a little. His cigarette was almost gone. He inhaled what little of the smoke it produced, exhaled and flicked the butt in the direction of the ashtray.

"Never was the most accurate shot" Layne groaned as it missed his target.

He took a deep breath as he pulled out his gun and a handkerchief and placed them on the table in front of him. He began to disassemble his gun and reassemble it to pass the time. He slid the spring down the shaft then locked it in place in the slide connected the slide to the butt and clipped in a magazine, pulled back on the slide loading the first .454 round.

"So you managed to pull your gun together Staley. You look like shit. Now pull yourself get down to the sick bay." CO Clifford Highlands said with a smirk as he peered into the Marine Ready Room as he passed the door. Layne nodded but remained in his chair and lit up another cigarette.

"That's an order soldier." barked the CO returning to the room.

"Urhm, Yes sir." Layne coughed with a salute. "I wonder if she's working today, haha."

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

Layne made his way to the sickbay sat himself down and continued to puff away on his cigarette. "Listen dollface" he said to the head nurse, Kaylee Bennett. "You wanna hurry this along, I ain't got all day."

"I've told you before you can't smoke in here, sir." Kaylee said in a disgruntled tone. "And I told you to stop calling me dollface. Now wait your turn please."

"I love it when you're so demanding." Layne jeered.

"Hey kid. What you in for?" Layne said to Nagala who was in the bed opposite him.

T-1 Day - 1357 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Sickbay

John gritted his teeth as the once sweet, now pungent, aroma of cigarette smoke embraced his nostrils. He wanted nothing so bad as a smoke and yet didn't have the stomach for it just then. To his surprise, the marine began to question him. Nagala felt like the man had been sent there to interrogate him and wanted to throw up again.

"Hey kid. What you in for?"

John opened a single eye and directed it at the marine, looking him up and down. The man didn't look in too bad a shape - despite the fact that he hadn't stopped smoking since he showed up. John liked that.

"Smokin' the CAG in a game of fists..." he mumbled. "If you get my drift."

"She decided that it was about time my attitude be adjusted.. by force. How 'bout you.." he checked the man's ID tag. ".. Staley. What got you in here on this fine day?"

T-1 Day - 1350 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port Flight Pod

Tracey had given up all hope of seeing Nagala again. She had, by word of mouth, already heard about the fight in the Pilots' Rec and found it unimaginable that someone as troublesome as John Nagala had managed to stay in the Colonial Fleet.

Instead, she had set about removing the CNPs herself along with her deck gang. She had gotten to know all them fairly well by then. Rob Ericson was a real Viper Jock in the makings. He knew how to fly the birds pretty well - nearly as well as he could put 'em together. She wondered why he had chosen to be a knuckle-dragger rather than a pilot and decided that she would ask him that evening at dinner in the mess.

Greg Parker was a real grease-head. Swift with a wrench as he was with his wit, but tended to end up with his foot in his mouth when around Gardener. Jane Gardener reminded Tracey of a younger version of herself. They looked a little similar and had a lot of the same interests- except for Jane's infatuation with Parker. Neither of the two kids knew about the other one's intentions and Tracey could barely stop herself from laughing when the two of them would awkwardly hint and innuendo to one another while on the job, trying to make it seem innocent and yet obvious at the same time.

Teller was a mystery though. Young, handsome, smart. He should've been all over the place surrounded by girls- or boys- fauning over him. Somehow he managed to stay quiet and to himself, always seeming to prefer the dark corners of the hangar bay to the friendly chatter of the central deck. She'd tried on numerous occasions to engage Sean Teller in some real conversation, but he never seemed interested. He'd always blow her off with some sort of excuse about needing to finish up a project on the Starboard or having to start a welding binge.

As these thoughts passed through her head, she removed the last bolt from the box in the last Viper that contained a CNP device. With a cheer of triumph, she pulled the box from the wing and heaved it into the large pile they'd created consisting of nearly two-hundred of the small, black, worthless hunks of metal.

She exchanged a few high-fives with the rest of her crew and announced that they all deserved a break.

"Take the rest of the day before launch time off," she said. "Get some rest, for frak's sake. We all look like shit."

They laughed and took off happily after a round of short salutes.

"See you later, Chief!" called out Ericson.

"Remember," she called after them. "Back here for the launch!"

"Right! Thanks boss..." began Parker then, turning to Gardener, "Hey Jane, wanna go hit the mess hall?"

Tracey just smiled, rolled her eyes and headed off in the direction of her office, zipping open her orange jumpsuit and allowing the cool recycled air to wash over her neck. It was refreshing and helped to alleviate her anxiety about the days ahead. Maybe it was going to get easier as everyone else seemed to think... maybe it would get a whole lot more difficult. Only time would tell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

T-1 Day - 1355 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Deck Chief's Office

Tracey twirled the phone cord on her finger, just as she had earlier. It was an old habit that was not only not going to die hard, but was simply not going to die at all. It wasn't a big deal, of course, but she'd always wondered if she could get over it. At last she'd given up on it and decided to embrace her faults rather than nit-pick and worry about them.

"Yes," she said. "I'd like to speak to Mister- sorry... Colonel Orpheus... Thank you."

"Please hold."

She was calling Jason aboard his Defender-Class ship- the Argo. He'd only been given the command a few weeks ago and she wondered how on Kobol he had managed to stay alive. She had barely managed with the command of two flight pods. How he had dealt with an entire ship was beyond her.

"Hello? This is Colonel Orpheus of the A-"

"Jason," she said, smiling. "Drop the pomp. It's Tracey."

"Tracey, oh my gods!" he exclaimed, dropping the formality instantly and turning into the old Jason she had known for so many years.

"How are you?"

"I'm doing good... ish. The new job's driving me up the walls, but supposedly-"

"-It gets easier after the launch... right? That's what everyone told me," he said, finishing her sentence as they had both become so accustomed to.

"Well?" she said, trying to stay optimistic. "Does it?"

"Sure..." he responded.

"Jason. Tell me the truth," she said with mock chastising tone.

"All right," he said. "It doesn't get easier. If anything, it's going to get harder. But you know what? It's totally worth it."

Tracey sighed.

"Jason," she said into the phone as she sat back in her less-than-comfortable office chair. "I don't know how you do it."

"Me neither."

The both of them laughed.

".. Staley. What got you in here on this fine day?"

"CO's orders. That's a boring story." Layne said with a hint of disgust when he mentioned the CO. "You look like you need a pick me up. I got a story for ya."

"So there I am at a bar, I'm on my 8th or 9th shot and a brew, I forget which, when this babe comes and sits down next to me, smokin' body." Layne said moving his hands to illustrate the silhouette a woman. "But then I think to myself, only two reasons a woman that good looking would be in a place like this. I was way too damn drunk to want to care either way, so I leave her be. Then some sleazeball thug sits down beside her and starts trying to put the moves on her. I look over and see her necklace, a nice one, not something someone buys for hookers." he said puffing on his cigarette. "Being drunk and stupid I say to the guy, 'Move on pal, she ain't interested'. But he won't listen to a drunk like me and tries his luck again. 'She's not going for it.' I say. Naturally he takes offense and comes at me. I break his arm in three places. But before he can come at me again, the bar tender, a friend of mine tosses him out. She thanks me then leaves. he said before putting the cigarette butt with his fingers. Later I'm stumbling down the street when I see her again. Only she ain't alone. The guy who's arm I broke is there. So his grabbing on her and I step in just as he pulls out a knife and holds it to her face. It really gets my goat when guys ruff up dames. I knock the knife outta his hand. He gets a good slug in before I give him a shot right up into his nose knocking him flat." Layne said checking his pockets for his packet of cigarettes. "Frak I'm out. Then before I know it the cops turn up. Some bystander called 'em up. They check the guy. He's dead. They haul me away. Courts drop the charge to manslaughter and give me a choice. Either I do time in an eight by eight cell, or serve my sentence on some beat up old shit heap of a battlestar ship. A few ships later, here I am."

T-1 Day - 1357 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Rec Room

"Pay up Graff!" The man shouted with joy over the table, waving his cards around. He was drunk, really drunk, barely able to hold the cards that just deprived Graff of the last cubits he'd won from the fight. Its good to know my luck isnt changing any time soon. Jim sighed and threw his cubits on the table, then pushed his chair back and sat up.
"Allright you apes, I'm outta here."
And with that, he started walking towards the door.

T-1 Day - 1359 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CIC

Cavil eyed Ream - the only other officer aboard who knew what was going on - with a look of urgency. He could tell the young man was anxiously wanting to make some sort of announcement.. to tell his crewmates what was going on.. but he wouldn't. Zubin was a kid with principles and he wouldn't dare to announce the attack until Cavil told him to, which would already be too late.

"Commander..."

He moved around the command table and up to the young woman sitting at the Helm controls that had spoken. She looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

"Sir. The other docked ships have begun launching procedures - all except the Night Flight and the Atlas."

Cavil recognized the names. The Cylon infiltrators aboard those two Battlestars were doing their jobs.

"Sir," she said again. "What's going on?"

Cavil shook his head silently and moved over to the wireless. The time had come to make an announcement. The Cylons had decided early on that there was no way around engaging the Colonial Fleet. Limiting attacks to the human Colonies would trigger a massive retaliatory strike - and the Imperial Armada was not as strong as some of the lesser minds in its ranks tended to believe. The element of surprise was their only chance at defeating the humans. The Colonial ships would all be engaged and destroyed - many of them while they still sat docked in orbit. The Rhea was amongst these that was never meant to make it into the real battle. Cavil knew this, and he knew that he had to enforce the illusion that they were going to fight back until the very last breath.

The men and women that were serving aboard the Colonial ships were not to be alerted to their impending doom until mere moments before. At that point it would no longer matter. It would be too late.

But Cavil was not as cold-hearted as some of his brothers and sisters believed. He had decided early on that his crew would receive a last glimpse of hope before the end - which would be relatively fast and painless. There was no need for them to suffer through the knowledge that they had all been fooled not only by the Cylon foe, but also by their own Commanding Officer. He grabbed the wireless receiver and put it to his lips, the familiar tone resonating around the CIC to signify a shipwide broadcast.

"This is the Commander," he said.

"Moments ago we received word from Colonial Fleet headquarters that a Cylon attack against the Twelve Colonies was underway..."

Heads turned to stare, wide-eyed, at the old man that spoke in their midst. He continued.

"The size of the enemy armada is unknown and the damage inflicted is yet to be determined, but all signs indicate a massive surprise strike against the fleet and global nuclear strikes against our home worlds."

"Gods," someone said.

"Flag Admiral Nagala has taken personal command of the fleet aboard the Battlestar Atlantia and has ordered all capable ships to launch and defend their positions from Cylon attack until the threat has been averted. As I speak to you, the other ships in orbit have begun launching procedures and are preparing to engage with the enemy..."

He looked around, not quite satisfied with the words that he had used. He had prepared a speech ahead of time on several occasions. None of them had ever been good enough.

".. and we are going to do the same. I am taking the ship to Condition One and ordering an immediate launch from the Orbital Drydock to engage the incoming Cylon fleet. This ship may be new, but she is ready - as is her crew. You all knew this could come at any time. You've trained hard and performed even harder to get her to this point and I expect each and every one of you to do the same now. Our very existence is at stake."

There was silence in the CIC - save the quiet hum of the DRADIS Screens.

"We are going to fight," he said. "We are going to fight and we are not going to give up. We must do everything in our power..."

The DRADIS beeped suddenly, announcing the presence of a new contact in the Vicinity. Cavil knew what it was before it was announced. It was a Cylon Baseship.. and behind it would be many more. A new beginning was about to arrive.

"May the Gods have mercy on our souls."

With that, the clicked the wireless down. Ream acted immediately, grabbing for his receiver and shouting fervently into it.

"Action Stations, Action Stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands prepare for launch. This is not a drill. Repeat..."

"Ensign Stark!" shouted the old man to the Helmswoman over the sudden din. "Take us out of here."

"Aye sir," she responded, flicking the switches that would disengage the docking mechanisms.

"Sola," he said, moving over to the young Ensign. "I need an immediate Sitrep on weapons capabilities. What have we got to shoot with?"

As he spoke, another cry came from Ream..

"Brace for impact!" he shouted. "Three missiles inbound from the nearest Basestar!"

"Hold on to something," Cavil instructed just before the three huge explosions shook the ship and threw everyone off their feet. Glass shattered and Cavil felt the breath being knocked out of him by the cold deck.

"Sola!" he yelled. "I need weapons. Now!"

T-1 Day - 1403 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - XO's Quarters

Ethan stood solemnly in the middle of his quarters as the commander finished his announcement. Bowing his head he turned to face his future wife. Looking in her eyes, he saw a twinge of fear as she silently rocked their sleeping daughter.

Closing his eyes, he silently nodded his head as he felt a cold, hard determination wash over him. A determination to protect his young daughter and the love of his life.

"I have to go to the CIC," he said as the alarm suddenly sounded, signaling the ship to report to condition one. Walking over to the pair, he bent down and kissed his daughter on the forehead before turning to Samantha and kissing her softly on the lips. "Stay here, you'll be safe. I'll be back. I promise."

Samantha nodded her head silently as she continued to rock Alexandra. "I know you will," she said softly.

Turning around he walked to the bulkhead door and opened it up. Halfway out the door, he stopped suddenly and turned to face his family. "I love you."

Turning around before he could get an answer, Ethan closed the hatch and looked at the single, young Marine guarding his quarters. "Marine," Ethan said suddenly, getting the dazed mans attention. "Listen to me, and listen to me carefully because I am not a man who likes to repeat himself. Behind this door is my family. Your orders are simply to protect them until I return from CIC. Is that understood Marine?"

"Yes sir," the young Marine said straightening his back and bringing his firearm to the ready.

"Good," Ethan said simply as he looked down the hallway. Crew members were scrambling all over the place. Preparing the ship for battle. Letting out a long, slow breath, Ethan started jogging down the corridors in haste.

Reaching the stairs, Ethan started to slide down them when the ship suddenly rocked violently. The violent explosions forced Ethan to lose his balance and he went tumbling down the stairs. His head smashed into the ground with a sickening thud that sent pain shooting throughout his body.

T-1 Day - 1359 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - CIC

Alex just sat there as he listened to the commander's speech. He knew something was wrong when he saw the majority of the ships launching from the dry dock.

"Sola," The commander called moving over towards him. "I need an immediate Sitrep on weapons capabilities. What have we got to shoot with?

Alex replied with a simple. "Aye sir!" as he brought up the screens to show him. As he was about to reply Ream called across from his station. "Brace for impact! Three missiles inbound from the nearest Basestar!"

The commander shouted something but he was unsure as to what it was because less then a second later there was an ear drum popping amount of explosions around the CIC as glass shattered and a light blew out.

"Sola! I need weapons. Now!" The commander called across the din of the CIC.

"Sir the CNP is restricting access to the weapons array. So far it's the only systems that being affected. I'm engaging the emergancy plan, but we only have 5% of our total main weapon stores. The rest had not been due to transfer until after our maiden voyage."

While explaining Alex had been activating the back up plan.

"Sir we have manual weapons control but the gun crews need to be present to fire, which will slow down our response. We need to get rid of the CNP to gain full control from here."

Alex turned back to his station and began to input command's for the gun crews that by now, because of the condition one, should already be in the control cabins of each primary gun battery.

T-1 Day - 1401 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Port Flight Pod

Her heart skipped a beat as the shipwide sprung to life. She had no idea then but a subliminal feeling. But this was knocked over by shock. The announcement let her stop half a corridor from the flight deck.

The outer appearence of hers was probably similar to everybody else on the ship at this moment, eyes widened, blankly staring at the ground in disbelief. But her mind was racing, trying to figure out what she had to do, while the action stations were sounded. Need a flight gear. Then back to the Pod and wait...

Elena turned on the spot and-
lost the ground beneath her feet as the ship rocked hard, lights flickering and distant screams from all around the ship. She felt her head, temple first, crashing into the deck, sudden nausea filling her stomach and every sound muted down. A warm stream of blood started to flow down her cheek as she pushed herself up, barely able to swallow the feeling of sickness down.

Get up. Move.
Two imperatives of instinct took control. Ignoring the laceration, she started a wobbly but fast walk and reached the changing room prior to the next explosion. Ripping her locker open, she got rid of her uniform threw it into it and changed into the flight suit.

Being done and just about to close it again, she looked at the small mirror in its door. A streak of her hair, lefthand, was colored red from the blood and so was most of her cheek, aswell as part of her neck. But she didn't look for that. Elena looked into her own eyes.

"You are in charge", she told her reflexion, "you are the CAG. You need to get them through this."
The bulkhead behind her went open and a group of seven or eight other pilots with bewildered, frightened looks came in, just as she had one or two minutes ago.

Another hard explosion reverberated through the pod, almost throwing her over again. Almost.

She shut her locker, turned around and gave them a look of determination, her voice completely free of doubts and fears, the absolute opposite of them.

"Alright, people, let's get ready and kick some asses! Doesn't matter where they came from, WE are going to send them back there!"

They nodded, replying a "Yes, sir!" in unison. They weren't perfectly convinced but didn't seem as timid as they were mere moments ago. And it somehow gave her a better feeling than she had had before, as she took off for the flight deck again, which she reached after a three minutes sprint through the now crowded hallways.

T-1 Day - 1400 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Access Corridor

The announcement died down and the hallway was silent, people staring at eachother . Graff's mind raced back to Tauron, to his family. He'd spoken to his father a day before coming aboard; he tried to remember what they talked about, as if it mattered anymore.. Then the daydreaming stopped and the nightmare began:

"Action Stations, Action Stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands prepare for launch. This is not a drill. Repeat..."

The alarm sounded and all the training that had been beaten into their skulls suddenly proved its worth: everyone knew where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to do, their mind had been conditioned that way and no event, however shocking, could undo it.

Graff sprinted down the corridor towards the port flight pod just as the rec room's hatch burst open and a wave of pilots flooded out, some of them coming after him, others heading for the starboard pod. He went around the first corner and the ship rumbled violently, slamming him against a wall then sending him to the floor.
"FRAK!" He pushed himself back up and continued towards the ready room, hoping not to meet anymore walls along the way.

Minutes later, he stormed in the room and headed for his locker. The place was about half full, and more pilots came in after Graff, but no one said a thing or even looked up from their lockers. Moments earlier most of them were drunken, gambling primates, now they were soldiers.

Jim took off his fatigues and zipped up his flight suit then grabbed the rest of his gear from the locker and jogged out of the room, then made his way through the crowded hallways to the flight deck and the "safety" of his viper.

"This is the Commander," shrilled over the intercom, causing Rylan's brow to furrow.

Not exactly common practice.

"Moments ago we received word from Colonial Fleet headquarters that a Cylon attack against the Twelve Colonies was underway..."

Rylan let out an incredulous laugh, pushing down on his legs to force himself up. He wondered what the hell the Commander was thinking, spouting such bullshit. It was the kind of thing to get nuggets to wet their pants in glee or horror.

"The size of the enemy armada is unknown and the damage inflicted is yet to be determined, but all signs indicate a massive surprise strike against the fleet and global nuclear strikes against our home worlds."

Rylan waded out of the inner airlock, still twiddling the cubit in his hands. His gut tightened with each new word. He ground his teeth together, fear creeping up and breathing down his neck. His first thoughts were for Serina, cuddling little Penelope and whispering comforts in the dark, danger stalking them from the just out of sight...

"Flag Admiral Nagala has taken personal command of the fleet aboard the Battlestar Atlantia and has ordered all capable ships to launch and defend their positions from Cylon attack until the threat has been averted. As I speak to you, the other ships in orbit have begun launching procedures and are preparing to engage with the enemy..."

The main corridors bustled with half-panicked crew members, their olive jumpsuits melding together as they sped fast in the mess of rushed hurry. Andreu stood there, eyes glazed over, shock smothering him and deadening his senses. Deckhands brushed by, bumping pushing their way past, one barging his shoulder. He said 'Sorry', as he jogged on ahead, breaking Rylan out of his reverie.

"... I expect each and every one of you to do the same now. Our very existence is at stake."

''Frak it.'' His head throbbed, he wanted everything to go away – but a dirty itch wormed it's way into his consciousness from the back of his mind. He had pilots to lead – and pilots to keep alive. Serina... she would have to wait a little while. She might be dead already, burnt alive in the nuclear fires.

"We are going to fight," he said. "We are going to fight and we are not going to give up. We must do everything in our power..."

The thought had contained to emotion, it had been a purely logical observation of the situation, a stark and callous assessment. When the ramifications of that possibility hit home, Rylan choked and couldn't breath, tears streaming out of his eyes. He grit his teeth and wiped the emotion away, forging ahead to the port deck.

"May the Gods have mercy on our souls."

''I'm going to do my job and then I'm coming for you, I promise. Ok honey?''

"Action Stations, Action Stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands prepare for launch. This is not a drill. Repeat, action stations, actions stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands prepare for launch. This is not a drill."

T-1 Day - 1404 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea

Ethan shakily put his hands out in front of him in an attempt to get up from the floor. His ears were ringing and the hallway seemed to sway back and forth in his vision. The distinct throb of a concussion started in the back of his head as he propped his hand against the wall and slowly stood to his feet.

A passing crewman stopped suddenly and attempted to help the XO. "Sir, are you alright?" he asked as he helped the Colonel to his feet.

"Just peachy," he muttered as he balanced himself. Once he was fully upright, Ethan nodded at the crewman. "Get to your station soldier. We've got work to do."

With the support of the wall, Ethan continued his route to the CIC. Approaching the glass doors, Ethan saw that the Marine Guard outside the station had doubled and the doors had sealed shut.

Scanning his ID card, a Marine granted Ethan access into the CIC.

"Commander," Ethan said in greeting as he swiftly moved to the other side of the Commander table. Looking up to the recently activated DRADIS screen, all Ethan could see was a sea of red.

T-1 Day - 1359 - Aerelon Orbital Drydock, Battlestar Rhea - Sick Bay

"Frak I'm out. Then before I know it the cops turn up. Some bystander called 'em up. They check the guy. He's dead. They haul me away. Courts drop the charge to manslaughter and give me a choice. Either I do time in an eight by eight cell, or serve my sentence on some beat up old shit heap of a battlestar ship. A few ships later, here I am."

The shipwide bleeped. John lay back in his bed, expecting some announcement about the imminent ship launch. He had more important things to do - sleep, for example.

"This is the Commander..."

He was surprised by the Commander's solemn tone. Perhaps attention would be worth it. Everyone else in Sick Bay had stopped moving and was standing, straight-backed, staring at the ceiling.

"Moments ago we received word from Colonial Fleet headquarters that a Cylon attack against the Twelve Colonies was underway..."

There was absolute silence. John was sure the Commander was joking.. or lying.. something. The Cylons came back? Why? How? Someone dropped a tray of instruments, shattering the silence.

"The size of the enemy armada is unknown and the damage inflicted is yet to be determined, but all signs indicate a massive surprise strike against the fleet and global nuclear strikes against our home worlds. Flag Admiral Nagala has taken personal command of the fleet aboard the Battlestar Atlantia..."

What a surprise, John thought, cynical even at the end of all things. He felt bad for the Cylons, having to go up against a man like his father in battle.

"..and has ordered all capable ships to launch and defend their positions from Cylon attack until the threat has been averted. As I speak to you, the other ships in orbit have begun launching procedures and are preparing to engage with the enemy.. and we are going to do the same. I am taking the ship to Condition One and ordering an immediate launch from the Orbital Drydock to engage the incoming Cylon fleet. This ship may be new, but she is ready - as is her crew. You all knew this could come at any time. You've trained hard and performed even harder to get her to this point and I expect each and every one of you to do the same now. Our very existence is at stake."

Incoming.. Cylon.. Fleet? John wasn't sure what he was feeling. What those words instilled in him. Was he confused? Was he angry, sad, happy, afraid? He couldn't tell.

"We are going to fight and we are not going to give up. We must do everything in our power... May the Gods have mercy on our souls."

"Frak me."

"Action Stations, Action Stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands prepare for launch. This is not a drill. Repeat..."

People began running around instantly at the call of Action Stations, there previous woes and fears forgotten. John pulled himself up and swung his legs around the side of the bed. Maybe he was in deep shit with the CAG, but he was still going to fight for his Colony.

"What do you think you're doing?" said a nearby nurse.

"Getting myself into the fight-"

"No you don't. Lie the hell down. We can't afford to have you lose your lunch in the cockpit. You could drown in your own stomach juices. Sound fun to you?"

"Gee thanks, nurse. I feel a lot better now," said John, feeling suddenly queasy again.

She put two firm hands on his shoulders and pushed him back into the bed.

"You rest," she said. "Fight another day."

She smiled at him, trying to make him give in.

Gods dammit.

As the thought crossed his mind to jump up as soon as her back was turned and run for the door, there was a loud explosion. The ship shook. There were two more explosions and the lights flickered. IVs fell over and John found himself tossed out of the bed and onto the floor.

"Raiders squadrons are launching. Reporting missile impacts against the Battlestars Acropolis, Pacifica, Triton, Rhea, Solaria, Night Flight, and Atlas.

"The Colonials are moving to engage us. What are your orders, Adjunct?"

The Six smiled at her brothers and sisters, even at the Four that had delivered her the news of the incoming Colonial ships. They didn't concern her. They had anticipated it and were more than prepared.

"Alert our brothers on the Galus and the Tertius to begin flanking maneuvers," she said, speaking of the other two Basestars that had been hiding on the other side of the Colony, bombarding the planet's surface from orbit. Soon they would jump in and the Colonial forces would be surrounded... would be crushed.

The Basestar's command chamber was abuzz with activity now that the attack had begun. Cylons of every model and sentiment were moving about the chamber, taking readings from the data streams, the cool liquid running through their fingers, or planning the next move with slide rules and glowing panels that highlighted schematics of their foe's ships.

Still, the Six couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Something mysterious and untangible. But the thoughts were quickly forming in her mind, gaining shape and focus. She wasn't the only one. Her sisters - the other Sixes and the Threes - even the Twos had been sensing these yet nameless visions.. always just on the verge of understanding.

For the moment, though, she put it out of her mind. There was a deep booming impact as the first Colonial retaliatory missile impacted along their primary dorsal spire, and the room shook. She held onto her console, keeping her balance, her smile growing even larger. It was time to initiate the CNP backdoor and eliminate the human threat once and for all.

"Galus and Tertius report jump success. The Colonials are surrounded."

"Good," she said. "Begin transmitting the CNP virus program and release another salvo of missiles. Let's put these humans out of their misery."

"By your command."

T-1 Day - 1405 - Orbit of Aerelon, Battlestar Rhea - CIC

Ensign Stark had initiated the launching procedure just before the first missile had impacted along the Rhea's bow, sending men and women all over the ship reeling and grasping for purchase on the Battlestar's slick walls. The Cylon attack had been swift and merciless, as planned. Cavil knew that, by now, the Colonials would be surrounded and it was only a matter of minutes until they were completely wiped out. Then the farce could finally come to an end. It would finally be over.

As the ship slipped from its mooring, the other two missiles had hit - one on the starboard flight pod and one on the forward spine of the ship, the armor plating buckling under the immense pressures but staying intact. Soon the ship would be broken.

Cavil had allowed himself to be thrown to the ground with the others, allowed the wind to be knocked out of him - or at least some subconscious part of his synthetic brain told him it was the right thing to do.

"Sola," he said to the young Ensign. "I need weapons. Now!"

He knew what the young man would find. The CNP blockade. It hadn't been a part of the plan, but the fact that the Cylon backdoors caused system malfunctions when the CNP program was installed throughout a Battlestar had been an added bonus. It meant that, at the crucial moment, weapons systems, engines, even life support could - and in many cases would - give out without warning.

"Sir the CNP is restricting access to the weapons array. So far it's the only systems that being affected."

Cavil grabbed ahold of the command table and pulled himself up. He was about to make some offhanded comment about the Gods being against them that day when suddenly, the young Ensign surprised him.

"I'm engaging the emergency plan, but we only have 5% of our total main weapon stores. The rest had not been due to transfer until after our maiden voyage."

The emergency plan? He strained to think of what Sola was talking about.

The backup system! he remembered suddenly. He had assigned the ship's tactical officer to work on a backup system with the Chief Engineer - an attractive, somewhat older woman that Cavil had hand-picked for her assets as a tool of subterfuge. As he had expected, they had gotten along quite well.. he'd heard they'd even had lunch together.. but he never expected them to get a system working in only a few hours. It was improbable enough in-and-of-itself, but he had thought those disgusting human hormones would have kept them off the job and distracted long enough to keep them from getting suspicious of the changes within the CNP Weapons Grid he had implemented.

"What?" he muttered, moving over to the Tactical console.

"Sir, we have manual weapons control but the gun crews need to be present to fire, which will slow down our response. We need to get rid of the CNP to gain full control from here."

Cavil suddenly realized his error in judgment. He had made a mistake choosing Sola. He should have known better than to choose someone at the top of their game. Some old fart trying to keep off his pension for another few years should've been his choice. He had thought it wouldn't matter... Maybe it still wouldn't. After all, his secret was still safe, they had limited weapons control and ammunition, and the overwhelming Cylon forces would still crush them easily.

They just might not be too happy when his ship began shooting down Raiders and blowing up their Capitals. There had always been some worry within the High Council about rogue agents siding with the Humans and revealing the plan.

He decided it was better to be safe than sorry. It was time that the ship be stopped.. dead.

"Yes, Ensign. I concur. Begin the switch from the CNP to your backup and get our weapons grid functioning. After all, our gunners can only hold the enemy for so long... We can't afford to have anything to get in the way of our victory, can we?"

As Sola turned back to his console the old Commander began to reach for his holster, his wrinkled fingers wrapping around the roughly textured grip. It would be quick, painless. A single shot in the bottom of the brain case. The bullet would stop all neural activity within a second and shock would carry the boy painlessly through his bleed out.

"Commander..."

It was the voice of the XO. Cavil relaxed his hand and turned to face the Colonel, his mind flaring with anger that he would not allow to show through.

"Colonel."

A quick salute between the two of them ended the formalities.

"Is your family safe?" he asked. Knight just nodded in response. He looked unwell, a dribble of blood running down the side of his head.

Probably a concussion. The man could probably barely think straight. Not a problem.

"It's the Cylons," he said, stating the obvious. "They've surrounded the shipyard and are bombarding us with everything they've got. They've already managed to launch fighters and we're not even out of the damned drydock yet. I need you to take control of Damage Control, is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Ethan said as he started to move to the Damage Control station.

"Watch Sola too. If he tries anything funny, let me know. We can't afford to make any mistakes now."

Ethan stopped and turned to the Commander, narrowing his eyes. "Sola is young sir, but he isn't stupid," he said before turning back and arriving at the station.

Cavil turned back to Ream, allowing the Colonel to tend to his duties.

"Sitrep."

"It's not looking good, Sir. All Battlestars have taken heavy damage and can barely get their Vipers in the air before the Cylons take them out. Sir, I'm not sure we can win this battle."

"Well," said Cavil. "It's not your job to make tactical decisions, is it, Petty Officer?"

"No sir."

"Then do your job. I need to know how many there are, where they are, and what they're shooting at us. Understood?"

"Yes sir. Understood..."

"Good."

Where are the goddamn nukes?

The ship shook violently once again. Gripping the console in front of him, Ethan braced himself as he fought to keep his balance. Glancing down at the diagram Ethan grimaced as he saw red lights all over the board indicating fires and decompression's.

"Reading chain decompression's along the port flight pod. The top side heat exchanger has also suffered damage. We need to get out of this dock. Now sir."

"I couldn't agree more," said Cavil. "Ensign Stark! How much longer until we're clear enough to launch Vipers?"

"About.. twenty seconds sir."

"Ream, let the hangar decks know they can start launching Vipers in thirty seconds. Get all of 'em out there as quick as we can."

"Sir."

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

Alex had been half watching the exchange between the XO and the commander and it worried him slightly to see the commander act the way he was. Putting it down to the fact the man had hated being right about needing to be ready for anything Alex managed to get 45% of the PDS systems up and firing from his console. All the primary cannon's were starting to whir into life but with manual loading each shot was about 20 seconds apart. Not enough to beat back the cylon's for long.

"Sir! I've managed to get part of the automated PDS system online under my control, not the CNP's. All primary cannons are starting to fire but there is a delay of about 20..."An explosion shook the ship."Seconds between each round being fired"

"That's not good enough," Cavil grumbled, trying to stay in-character.

Now that his plans were beginning to fall apart, he decided that staying in the part of the Commander was his best option. He would have to guide them through the fight until there was no longer any ship left to fight with.

"As soon as the CNP is down, I need you to re-route reserve power to the automatic loaders. Forget about a flak field for now. We can take a few more hits, but we need to get ourselves into this fight."

Alex was confused about the order as in this kind of situation it would have been better to have engaged a full flak field and wait to jump to a supply depot. But after all he was the Commander.

"Yes sir!"

His finger's flew across the keyboard shutting down the flak field and transferring what power he could into the loader's. His last option was to disable the viper launcher's but with the flak field down they would need the viper's.

"Sir, the power transfer has increased fire rate by 75%."Stopping for a second as a screen appeared marked urgent."The chief reports the viper wing should be ready to launch within a minute. We still have power to the launchers."

Turning back to the screen he tried to follow the battle on DRADIS but it was a devistating battle. The colonial's were getting pasted and whats worse a lot of the ships seemed to only be half operational.

"Right..." said Cavil, cutting into Alex's concentration. "Once all Vipers have been launched, you may restore power to the flak field and switch in the reserves from the launch tubes. Once our birds are in the air we wont need them."

He, too, noticed the lack of activity on the parts of the Battlestars. the CNP loopholes had manged to do their jobs after all - at least on the majority of the fleet. Many of them had only been able to launch a few squadrons at best. With so many Raiders in the air, the Vipers wouldn't stand a chance... Everything was falling into place, despite the little hiccups.

The ship shook once more. "Another hit," Ethan said as he looked over the grid. "I don't see any pattern in their volleys. It looks like they're just firing blindly, trying to do as much damage as possible."

Alex was watching the launching of the viper's, slowly but surely leaving the safety of the ship to fight for their homes, their families, their very lives. He brought up the power transfer command ready to activate it the second the last bird was away.

Bracing himself as the ship was rocked by more explosions, Alex gasped as he saw two limping green marks flash three times and disappear. A screen flashed up next to his main one with a warning of a massive shockwave from the destruction of the two ships.

"We lost the Trition and the Solaria. Incoming shockwave. Brace yourself."

Alex grabbed his station and prepared to fall off his chair.

Bulbs and screens flickered and went out as the first wave of the shockwave rattled the ship. Cavil knew they had only seconds before the massive explosion would shatter bulkheads, panels, and bones.

"Warn the Vipers!" he shouted to Ream. "Tell them to-"

With that, the main shockwave slammed into the side of the Rhea, the monumental forces crushing one of the engines and forcing the Battlestar into a barrel-spin. Synthetic gravity failed shipwide for a fraction of a second before returning, long enough for mugs to spill and shatter and running crewmen to lose their balance.

Cavil found himself being hurtled to his right, felt the sharp edge of the command table blocking his path. The moment of anti-grav gave his sailing body enough extra inertia to flip onto the table, his head smashing painfully through a model Rhea that had been sitting atop the once pristine - now stained with blood - surface. He continued rolling, no longer having the strength to stop himself as the shockwave picked up the ship and tossed it like a ragdoll. He tried to put up a hand to stop himself from falling off the other side instinctually, but to no avail.

His legs connected with the deck and he felt a spike of pain shoot up from his foot. His ankle was broken. As the rest of his body met with the cold metal floor, his vision began to cloud.

So, he thought. This is it... This is-

And then he was out.

Alex was knocked to the floor as the first shockwave hit the ship. He was just picking himself up as the second one had hit. The gravity had made the room seem like a floating hell, of glass, blood and bodies. Alex reached up and he managed to pull himself up to his console as out the corner of his eye, he saw the Commander hit the floor with an akward crunch. Everything thing seemed to go in slow motion after that.

"Colonel! The Commander is hurt!."

Ethan looked up from his terminal and saw Cavil sprawled out on the floor. Brief panic flooded him before he squashed it down.

Not waiting for his reply, Alex set the weapons to auto fire and fought his way over to the Commander. Secondary explosions went off in the CIC, outlining all the shapes in an almost ghostly light. Reaching the downed man Alex looked up at Ream.

"Mr. Ream! Get medics up here NOW!

Ream had gone a shade of white, seeing the Commander knocked out like that.

"Ye...Yes Sir!"

Reaching the comm button.

"Medical Team's report to CIC Immediately, Repeat Medical teams report to CIC!"

Alex's world was still moving in slow motion. Was this the end of days?

"You heard the commander. You can give me my check up when I get back. Now don't give me that look." Layne said to the head nurse. "Battles are won by slaughter and maneuver, the greater the general, the more he contributes in maneuver, the less he requires in slaughter. I'll be fine. Unless we got some hard ass who don't know the value of human lives in charge, then we're all fraked."

He rose to his feet placed his right arm on his left shoulder and worked his left arm in the socket "Besides looks like you got your hands full with this one. Pull it together kid, or you won't make it." Layne made a fist with his left hand cupped his right hand over it and cracked the knuckles on his left hand the repeated the process for the right hand. "Shit yeah, let's do this."

Layne made his way back to the Marine Ready Room to receive his orders.

"So, how long has it been?" she asked, using her free hand to massage her aching arm and shoulder. Working on a hangar deck had a tendency to turn deckhands into chiropractors.

"Since the launch? Oh... about three weeks. It's been really good so far. My XO is a bit strange at times, but I forgive her for it. I mean, after all, who isn't, right?"

Tracey just smiled.

"Anyways, we've been working on.. Sorry, just a moment. Something's come in from Fleet Headquarters- Priority One."

"Well, aren't you important?"

She knew he was rolling his eyes at her and that made her smile even broader.

"Yeah. Right. It's probably just some request to go looking for a-"

He stopped suddenly in the middle of his sentence.

"Oh my Gods."

"What?"

"Uhhh... I need to go. Right now. Tracey, do you know what's just happened?"

"What? What's happened."

"I can't explain right now. I've got to go immediately."

"Jason-"

The phone clicked and began to blare that familiar disconnection tone that usually signified an abrupt end to a conversation gone awry. She was confused. He'd never hung up on her like that before. Then, out of nowhere, came the wail of the shipwide... It was the Commander.

"Moments ago we received word from Colonial Fleet headquarters that a Cylon attack against the Twelve Colonies was underway..."

"What?!" she yelled. It couldn't be true. If that's what- Jason... Oh my Gods.

"The size of the enemy armada is unknown... the damage inflicted is yet to be determined... all signs indicate a massive surprise strike against the fleet and global nuclear strikes against our home worlds... Admiral Nagala has taken personal command of the fleet... As I speak to you, the other ships in orbit have begun launching... am taking the ship to Condition One and ordering an immediate launch from the Orbital Drydock to engage the incoming Cylon... Our very existence is at stake."

The words were blending together in her mind as she sat at her desk, hands cupped around her mouth as she stared blankly at the bulkhead in front of her. It was all too surreal, too horrible to imagine. Nuclear strikes? Her mother was on Virgon... everyone she ever loved... except Jason.

Jason... she thought. He was in orbit of Picon. That was where the battle would be being fought right now. He was there. He was in the thick of it. That's why he had-

"We are going to fight," came the Commander's voice again. She hated the sound of it. She hated his voice, hated him, for being the one to deliver the news. She knew it was irrational. She knew it wasn't his fault. But that didn't matter.

"We are going to fight and we are not going to give up. We must do everything in our power... May the Gods have mercy on our souls."

"Action Stations, Action Stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands prepare for launch. This is not a drill. Repeat: Action Stations, Action Stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands prepare for launch. This is not a drill."

"Oh Gods," she said, standing up without thinking about it.

Her training kicked in and propelled her legs around the desk and towards the door. She had to get out to her hangar deck, get to her crew. She had to get the Vipers ready and prepare them for... for what? A battle? A war? The apocalypse? She didn't know and she didn't care. All she knew was that she had to do it.

As she reached the door a sudden shockwave made her lose her balance, fall over on her back. She felt the back of her head smack against the ground and, for a moment, forgot what she was doing. Then, in a flash, it came back and she pulled herself up. Checking the back of her head for blood and finding none, she decided that she was still fit for duty and made her way out of the office as quickly as possible.

Lords, I hope Mays is taking care of the kids in Starboard, she thought.

Oswald Mays was the only member of her Deck Crew she'd been able to pick. When she'd gotten her post aboard the Rhea, he was the first to enter her mind for Assistant Chief. They'd worked together a long time aboard the station and he'd always managed to stay level-headed. That was what she needed. Something to counterbalance her own wild behaviour. She'd selected him as her Assisant Chief and put him, more or less, in charge of the Starboard Pod. She knew he could handle it. She just hoped he was handling it now.

As she came out onto the deck, she saw her gang already busy preparing Vipers for their pilots that hadn't yet arrived. She knew that any minute the CAG would show up with a bunch of eager Viper Jocks and that they would have to be ready.

She rushed to the nearest Viper and started working. Everyone knew what they had to do. She didn't have to say anything.

Moving forward, Ethan bent down and checked the Commander for a pulse. After a moment he found one and let go a brief sight of relief. Getting up, he looked around at the chaos of the CIC. "Mr. Sola," Ethan said trying to get control of the situation, "You're acting XO," Ethan said briefly before moving to the command table.

Alex allowed the medics to tend to the commander. He stood up and faced the Colonel.

"Yes Sir!"

Not being able to utter anything else.

Looking up at the DRADIS screen, Ethan saw a Basestar was moving in for the kill. "Helm, are we clear of the dry-dock yet?"

"Yes sir, we just cleared it," the helm officer said as the ship shook once again.

"Mr. Ream, inform the CAG that I'm taking command and to take up defensive positions around the ship. Helm, make for the the Baseship bearing karam-eight-five-zero and have all forward batteries prepare for a suppressive barrage." Ethan turned and looked at Sola. "Let's see how these bastards like a taste of Colonial firepower."

"They will feel it for the colonies!"

Watching as the commands were followed by the crew Alex felt odd standing at the command table. Being there, almost standing out from the rest of the CIC staff. He was watching the DRADIS screen as the ship started to turn its might bulk towards the cylon baseship. Seeing a flash from the Tactical screen, Alex ran over to it.

****Firing Solution Acquired. Ready to Fire.****

Was flashing on the screen. Alex turned to back to Knight.

"Sir! Forward batteries report they have a solution."

Alex started to type in the Command to fire to save precious seconds as he watched Knight.

Silence filled the CIC as the crew waited for Ethan to give the order. Looking at Sola, Ethan nodded his head slightly. "Send these bastards into the abyss!"

Alex simply nodded towards the Colonel, as he hit the enter key. Sending death towards the Cylon's.

Outside the ship, the forward cannons erupted to life for the first time ever. Flames exploded out of the firing tubes only to die out moments later from lack of oxygen. The explosive rounds flew across empty space, passing Vipers and Raiders engaged in a deadly dance. Within moments the center axis of one of the Baseships exploded in a beautiful sea of flames.

"Direct hit!"

Ethan nodded his head and turned his eyes to the DRADIS screen."Once the first volley is complete switch to selective fire mode only. We have very limited ammunition and the gods only know when we're going to get more."

"Aye Sir."

Alex turned back to his station and transferred the major functions to the secondary panel on the Command table. Once the transfer was finished he walked the short distance to the command table and took his place opposite the Colonel. Switching the Main Gun's to selective fire Alex, stood back half a step and watched the DRADIS screen. There was no doubt the fleet was getting pasted, badly, But there was nothing they could do with such limited Ammunition.

"Sir! It was Ream.

Alex turned around to face him.

"Yes Mr. Ream?"

"Sir, Flight deck reports power failure to the Viper launch systems. The CAG has also radioed to ask why we have stopped deploying viper's. We only managed to get 75% of our Wing out."

Looking towards the Colonel, Alex knew he would have to make some hard choices in the minutes and hours to come.

"Let the CAG know that we have lost the system. Tell the flight deck's to begin launching them through the landing bay airlocks. Just get our Birds in the air somehow."

Turning back to his console he began to run system checks on the launchers. Another missile made it through the PDS system even with the viper's augmenting it and impacted along the port side of the Alligator head.

Hitting the comm panel in front of him "Major Woods, CIC."

Waiting just a few seconds. "Go ahead, Is that you Alex?"

"Yes it is. We lost power to the viper launch system. We need our birds in the Air."

"Just looking now......... Frak. Did you have the transfer program in standby?"

Alex realized his mistake. The shockwave! "Yes, It was that damned shockwave wasn't it? It reset the system and sent the power back to weapons."

"Yes. You need to reset it from there, we are too busy down....Frak Watch that panel...."

There was an explosion over the comm. "Lou? What happened?"

"That last missile. It overloaded the secondary fire-suppressant system."

Alex held on as another missile impacted the ship. "I'll let you get on. CIC out."

"Colonel, The viper launch power was transferred to weapons because of the shockwave. It reset the system and reset the power flows. We can get the viper tubes working again, but it will take 10 minutes to complete."

Alex held on again as the ship rocked once again.

Ethan ignored Sola as he turned to the helm station. "Helm, hard to port, starboard batteries prepare for a salvo fire." Turning to Sola, Ethan opened his mouth but closed it once again as the ship rocked violently.

"Direct hit, starboard flight pod. Multiple batteries on the starboard side are offline. Point defense system reports that they are dangerously low on ammunition sir."

"Mr. Sola, tell our friends down in the engineering to do whatever they have to do to get the launch tubes working again. Just do not take power away from our batteries," Ethan said as he turned back to the DRADIS screen.

"Starboard batteries open fire on Cylon Basestar, bearing Alpha three-five-zero!"
Alex simply nodded and hit the comm button again.

"Chief Wood's, CIC. Get the Viper launch tubes working. Whatever it takes."

Not waiting for a reply Alex hung up and turned back to the DRADIS screen.

"Sirs! Another hit to the starboard flight pod. Fuel lines have started to rupture."

Not waiting for the Colonel, Alex ran over to the DC panel.

"Baldwin! Whats the state of the Fuel Lines?"

The very young officer turned around and was a very pale shade of white.

" We've shut off the fuel lines and started to vent it away from incoming fire but there is still fuel in the lines. Another hit to starboard and we could lose half a flight pod."

Alex turned around and headed towards the command table again.

"Ensign Stark! Hard to port! Keep our starboard flight pod out of the direct line of fire. Ream! Tell the CAG to concentrate on protecting the Starboard flight pod. Stand by all port battery's."

Knowing he was probably out of line for ordering the opposite of the Colonel but it was to save the ship.

Ethan's eyes shot up at the young Ensign's orders. "Helm, belay that order!" Ethan yelled suddenly. "Turning to port will expose our engines to heavy fire, and if we lose our engines we're dead. Helm, roll us over 180 degrees to port. Keep our current heading," Ethan ordered as he turned to Sola and gave him a hard stare.

Alex felt like he had blown his chance to show what he was made off. Trying to not show his annoyance at himself. He looked back at the Colonel.

"Yes sir."

Turning back up to the DRADIS screen Alex was watching the battle, no the slaughter of the colonial forces in orbit.

He was about to suggest an idea when Ream called over from his station.

"CAG reports that from mark one eyeball, two battlestar's have lost weapons."

Alex looked at the DRADIS screen but from the mass of green and red couldn't tell which ships they were.

"Mr Ream, Which ships?"

"It appears to be the Night Flight and the Pacifica. But the Atlas and Acropolis aren't engaging the enemy at full strength either."

Alex walked round the table and turned away from the rest of the CIC.

"Sir I know I don't have much command experience but we are running out of ammunition, we can't easily launch our remaining viper's and the rest of the fleet in orbit aren't fighting at full force. We need to retreat, get some more ammunition, and repair the ship."

Alex knew he was right but saying it out loud made it sound like he was afraid and wanted to run away.

Ethan narrowed his eyes in anger up at the DRADIS screen.

"Radiological alarm! We've got inbound nuclear ordinance targeted on the fleet and dry-dock."

"Gods dammit!" Ethan yelled as he slammed his fist down on the command table. "Mr. Sola, switch all batteries to defensive fire mode. Ms. Stark, plot a course out of the combat zone and away from the Basestars. Mr. Ream, signal the Vipers to prepare for combat landings on my mark," Ethan said as he moved to the other side of the command table. "And Mr. Sola, inform engineering that I'm going to need FTL engines fully operational within the next 5 minutes."

Alex almost went a pale shade of white when he heard the call for the incoming nukes.

"Aye Sir!"

Switching the weapons into a defensive mode, which only attacked incoming ordinance. The only positive part was that it used slightly less ammunition.

Hitting the comm button again Alex opened the channel to Engineering.

"Major Woods. We need the FTL drives ready to go within the next 5 minutes. Colonel's orders."

"They will be ready." Was all Alex got back. Knowing she had bigger fish to fry Alex turned back towards the Colonel. He was surprised to see a marine walking up to the Command table.

Joint Post By:
Ethan Knight
Alexander Sola

T-1 Day - 1409 - Orbit of Aerelon, Battlestar Rhea - Port Flight Pod


Incredible noise, yells all over the place, shockwaves of explosions going forth through the hull every once in a while... Opening the bulkhead to the hangar deck wasn't as nice as it had been two days ago. Elena's sprint wasn't over; she wouldn't stop racing until everything necessary was done. But while her body had no rest and her plan was running all by itself, her mind found the time to go through the logical reactions:
Worry, stress, fear, anger... But all them seemed to be in a surprisingly small amount to her.

Her feet found their way down the stair, right in the middle of a whole crowd of pilots. Knuckle draggers were making the ships ready to launch.

She should have been terrified by the announcement of the attack, should be trembling with sorrow about everything she lost, just like everybody else did and would again once they had done their jobs.

Her voice hovered over the noise, right to the ears of the jocks, showing self-confidence, conscientiousness... Things she didn't really feel at that moment.
"Man your birds, people! We don't want to be stuck on preflight once we're ready to launch!"

But the truth was that she didn't. And she knew that she wouldn't. Elena didn't even ask herself about the attack, the hows and whys, even though it was the only thing left to worry about. It felt like she didn't care.

"Hey, you!", she yelled at a closeby deckhand who had been running past her, now turning her head. "Were all CNP units removed? Are all Vipers ready?"

"Yes, sir", she responded quickly, not waiting for another question or a reply. She just carried on.

Elena let her gaze wander around for the Squadron leaders but couldn't find any of them at first sight while walking to her Viper. She picked up the list and went through the routine. Not even the battle for their Colonies and another impact could prevent the preflight.

The deck under his boots rumbled again and Graff instinctively reached out to try and hold on, but he managed to stay on his feet without the help and continued his run towards the flight deck. He could also feel the ship moving now, the good kind of moving though, the kind that made them less of a sitting duck and able to launch vipers.

The flight deck was bustling, pilots rushing to their birds, deckhands getting them ready for launch and preparing the tubes. Graff made his way to where his viper was suposed to be, scanning the crowd along the way, looking for Rylan or the CAG. Damit old man, get your ass down here.
He finally reached his viper and started the pre-flight, quickly giving the hull and wings a once-over, then crouching down to check the gear and weapons.

---

''Ok, three, two, one!'' The girder groaned as the group fought to lift it, the sound stirred in with the cries from the deckhand beneath it and grunts of exertion. Her leg was mangled, the olive green stained a darker shade by a mix of piss and blood. She let out a cry again as her crew mates picked her up - but she bit down hard on the pain, controlling herself as she wrapped her hands round her deckmates neck and burried her face in his chest. There was a muffled thankyou from the third crewman - but Rylan didn't hear. He was running on adrenaline and shock, autopilot making him half stumble and half run towards the port hangar deck. Pretty much the only thing he could hear clearly was his own breathing, a laboured but constant reminder of life ticking away.

Another locked hatch blocked his path, a guardian against hard vacuum tearing to be let loose upon the rest of the Rhea soft insides. They had made getting around the port pod a nightmarish maze, the muffled screams and constant power overloads in the lights and doors not helping. Every step took him closer to his bird - and an access hallway to the port hangar B was just down the corridor, if he could only just get there...

---

A wheel turned a little, screeched and span around its circumference till the small hatch it was attached to swung sideways out from the floor, spilling the contents of the toolbox that had been left on it over the storage locker floor. Rylan's hand reached out and gripped the edge of the hatch and he hauled himself out onto the cool deck, resting his aching hands and back and thighs and calfs and biceps...

As his mind cleared, staring at the harsh ceiling light, he rolled onto his front and pushed himself up as he crawled toward the door. The hangar deck was busier than he'd ever seen it, it looked like every pilot and every member of the deck crew were working on Vipers, screaming orders to each other and adjusting mechanics. The painful walk to the air wing was comforting.

''Sorry I'm late, didn't get the invitation till last night. I don't suppose anyone got my Viper ready? I'm a little behind schedule.''

---

She was through. All done and set. And for once, the timing fit perfectly. Just as she had double-checked her avionics, she could hear a voice. Turning her head revealed to her that Rylan had arrived. Harden and McCollough were just up on the gallery, while all the other Squadron leaders were all accounted for. And, speaking of timing, at that moment the shipwide sounded, letting the noises of the hangar deck die down.

This time, it was Ream:
"Attention, all hands: Vipers are clear for launch in thirty seconds. Repeat: Vipers are clear for launch in thirty seconds."

Was the reaction hope, satisfaction? Or rather fear? It was hard to tell. They got the first manned Vipers into the tubes. Elena's was among them. A deckhand fixated her collar, made the connections with her suit's battery and oxygen tank... and gave her a pat on a shoulder, stating "Give 'em hell". Looking into his eyes made it so hard. It was both. Being afraid of sending people into their doom and, at the same time, the gratification of fighting back. But none of her thoughts showed. In fact, there weren't any thoughts about it. She put on her helmet and nodded at him, as he climbed down the ladder.

Her look went past him. Three Vipers aft, her gaze met with another person's: The Chief's. The gap between them was filled with busy crewmen. And they had both work to do. Yet, a thought crossed Elena's mind, one that she didn't like but didn't doubt either: That this felt like the end of the world. She couldn't think of anything, some kind of famous last words in case it was true. So she went with something she had done countless times, always teasing but never as honest and hopeful as now: She smiled and winked. Then she closed her cockpit.

Tracey watched from afar as the CAG climbed up the short stepladder to her cockpit. She looked calm, confident, in control. Tracey couldn't say the same about herself. Yes, she had total confidence in her deck crew, but she still couldn't get past the sense that this may be the end of everything.

"Did she just wink at us?"

"I believe she did, Parker."

"What is she, crazy? This is the frackin' end of the world and she cracks a smile!?"

"I dunno," said Tracey, halfheartedly returning the CAG's grin. "Maybe she's got it right. If we can't keep ourselves afloat, how are we going to save the colonies?"

She said it to make the young man feel better- to put him at ease. Inside she knew that there was very little chance of them escaping with their own lives, let alone some sort of heroic rescue of the colonies. Her stomach tightened.

Gods, she thought. Have mercy on these pilots and on the souls of all mankind. We need it.

From that point on, it was just a normal day for Elana. Her heart was pounding like mad until the bulkhead of the tube was sealed behind her. Her wireless crackled and the LSO's voice sounded:
"Maglock secure. Ready for launch?"

She raised her thumb.

"Viper one-seven, clear forward, nav-con green, interval check, thrust positive and ... steady. Clear for launch."

Somewhere in the distance in front of her, at the end of the tube, she saw the bulkhead opening up, revealing the formerly clear, now smudged green sky of Aerolon.

"Good hunting out there.", she said and pushed the button in front of herself, with a growing feeling of regret. And be safe.

Her heart skipped a beat, then went suddenly back to her resting pulse. I'm already dead. It routed in her head, echoed a few times until the crushing acceleration had thrown her out into the emptiness of space.

---

Life support.. check, comms.. check,

Everything seemed to be moving in fast forward around him, they'd just put the first wave in the tubes, probably launched by now. Deckhands were now swarming around his viper, re-checking everything and disconnecting the fuel cords. Graff shot them a glance then turned his attention back to the pre-flight.

RCS.. check, hydraulics.. check,

He felt the ship move and looked back out: they were towing him into the launch tube now. A deckhand gave him a quick thumbs up then rushed to the next bird; always keep the line moving. Graff hit a button on his dash and the cockpit closed with a hiss and pressurized, muffling the sounds of the flight deck. He was alone now.

DRADIS.. check, CNP.. frakked.

They sealed him in the launch tube and he finally flicked the switch that made the whole viper come alive. The powerplant engaged, engine's rumble getting louder and louder, without him even touching the throttle.

Engines.. check.

Graff just stared down the launch tube, into the darkness ahead, randomly interrupted by small explosions and engine trails. An old song he'd heard during his training days aboard the Victoria popped into his head. He started to humm quietly, the words coming back on their own:

"Take me out.. to the black.. tell 'em I ain't coming back,
burn the land and boil the sea.."

He heard the LSO saying something and he raised his arm in response, eyes still locked on the abyss ahead.

"..you can't take the sky from me" He murmured as the abyss rushed towards him.

---

As the blast doors behind closed up, shutting out the light from the hangar deck, Andreu stretched his gloved right hand, the knuckles cracking every few repititions. His left index finger tapped buttons along the master navigation bar, the dark squares silouetted by an orange glow after his curt touch. The Tac/Nav console pulsed in front of him, searching for data out in the blackness ahead, finally active.

Gripping the throttle tightly till his hand hurt, Rylan pushed up to 85% and settled back into his seat Turning to the Launch Supervisor he sliently waited for her go ahead, hands resting palms down in his lap. Eternal seconds ticked by, the familiar calm of the launch position soothing seething nerves. The LSO looked up from her workd, face stern and focused, and gave the thumbs up. Rylan punched the last master control, the cold shot warning light blinking red and tick-tocking with each flash. He relaxed mentally, clenching all his muscles for the acceleration, washing his mind of conscious thought.

''Maglocks secure, initiating launch sequence. Happy trails.''

The ribbed walls of the tube muddled together, the catapult dragging him and his Viper headlong into the void. The violent acceleration forced his organs backwards, his muscles straining as they pulled against their own tendons and his lungs being squashed against the back of the seat. He felt like he was going to throw up his breakfast – just as the metal tunnel metamorphosed into inky velvet black, his ship being violently birthed into the void.

''Blues, form up on me.''

He let out a breath over the wireless, a silent prayer he wished – but did not believe – would help him save himself and his pilots.

''The best pilot out here isn't you or me, or even the CAG. It's the guy who's just gunned down that cylon waffle-iron you didn't see, that was going to splash you from dead on six. We work as a team, protecting each other, and we'll walk off the hangar deck heroes. Let's go get some.''

---

Elena had just turned her Viper away from Aerolon when her eyes focused on something alarming: Two battlestars that rapidly sent off brilliant sparks from the ships' main ammunition dumps for seconds... before the a dazzling explosion blinded her that ripped each of them apart and forced her to raise a hand, shield her eyes.

Her instinct was faster than her head, yelling "Incoming shockwave!" into the wireless prior to any thought concerning what she had seen or Ream's warning. There wasn't much to do about it, though. Turning again, trying to avoid as much of the destructive force as possible, accelerating to weaken the effect even more... But apart from that, one could only hope that it wouldn't influence the small fighters as it would the bigger warships. And while her bird rocked hard once and once again, less than half a minute later, shaking her through and causing a reset of her DRADIS and NAV computer, the Rhea had to face graver damages, resulting in an uncontroled spin.

And suddenly it seemed, as if no more Vipers were launched. Please not the frakking tubes! Of course, there was no way that she could check what was going on and at the same time she had to fix her own ship. But she hoped that the deckcrew would fix it very soon, whatever it was.

By the her systems were up and running, the Squadrons had formed up around the Rhea in a default formation. She noticed that the leviathan was starting to turn, as if it had been woken up, acting like an angry beast. And at exactly that moment, Ream's words sounded in her ears:
"CAG/Rhea; actual was hurt from the shockwave and the XO is taking command. Form up in a defensive pattern around the ship."

Elena was glad that they weren't ordered to attack. Wouldn't stand a chance against this mass of foes...
"Wilco, Rhea. Please note: Launch tubes seem to be inactive or damaged", she responded, pushing the throttle to the max and jumping forward immediately, racing towards the Rhea's bow.

"All Squadrons: We're taking a defensive formation around the Rhea. Black and Reserves, you take starboard. The rest of us covers port. We've taken quite a beating there and we cannot let any more missiles through. Watch out for incoming bogeys. Good hunting."

Then, without thinking she addressed the first pilot of red squadron that came to her mind:
"Lynch, you're on my wing."

"Um... Affirmative, Ice", he responded and got into formation with her.


Joint Post by:
Tracey Graham
Andreu Rylan
James Graff
Elena Vance

John watched angrily, ignoring the groans and convulsions of the ship around him, as the marine trudged triumphantly off to work. He glared at the nurse again.

"I really should be out there," he said.

"Since when do you care about your duty?"

She was busily preparing medical supplies for the inevitable incoming wounded. He could see that she had been hurt during the first explosion, a trail of blood leading from the blonde bun atop her head down past her ear and onto her cheek. She was ignoring it. He respected that.

"It's not my duty I care about," he replied. "Obviously... But I should be out there fighting beside my friends.. well.. friend. The Colonies are at stake! Even I know that I'm not more important the continued existence of the human race."

She stopped, only for a moment, to turn around. She looked at him.

"Lieutenant Nagala," she said, staring at him. "You surprise me. I never knew you were capable of that kind of.. well.. humanity. It works for you."

"You think?"

"Mm-hmm."

She leaned in and kissed him as the lights flickered. When it ended, he stared back at her, confused.

"What was that for?"

"I dunno," she said, turning back to her duties. "Maybe it's just the blood loss talking, but it seems to me like when the end of the world comes around, one might as well indulge herself."

"Makes sense to me," he said, then, "Can I go?"

"Sure."

He hopped off the table and nearly lost what little was left in his stomach but managed to hold it in.

Gods, how am I going to handle g-force? he wondered as he began to make his way down the hall towards the flight deck, clutching his stomach with one hand, the other firmly planted one the bulkhead for support.

Somehow, he answered.