*~*

Colonel Tigh, overheated from the sprint not to mention the shock waited for the Admiral to respond. The ruckus of the press swarmed into their private dialogue, cries and the overbearing sound of a hundred voices struggling to be heard at once. Cameras rolling and crews loosely attached leaning over their reporter – individuals talking into Dictaphones and generally humans grappling to make their few moments of recognition from other’s downfalls. Adama could hear them all.

A member from the Independent Security and Crowd Control stepped out from the squabble and into the hallway where three men seemed to be paused in their motion. He approached his president, carefully placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Mr. President?”

Baltar jumped, ducking away. “Oh.”

“My apologies.” the man replaced his hand by his side. “Is there a problem?”

“Gods Martin – don’t do that.” In front of Baltar the Colonel and the Admiral still hadn’t said a word.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but they’re ready for you.” It seemed very much like Martin was waiting for a decision from him, but Baltar wasn’t so sure that he was the one to make it any more. Finally reaching some form of decision, the Admiral broke Tigh’s gaze and turned his unreadable attention towards Martin.

“Get the press out of here. The conference has just been canceled.”

“Of – of course sir.” Martin turned to go, “What should I tell them?”

Admiral Adama extended himself to his full height, “Nothing.”

*~*

The negotiating team assembled on Battlestar’s bridge, three deeply nervous people led by the President herself. The Admiral refused to meet her gaze – the hallmark of a lost argument.

Bill turned to Laura, “I’ve seen better.”

*~*

Adama strode into the bridge and across to his Lieutenant who handed him the radio.

“It’s him.” The Admiral’s blood forced itself harder through his veins – pushing them closer to the skin.

“I won’t talk to that thing.”

“Sir, he asked for you.” The only focus of the room was Adama, the radio, and what he would do with it. What he wanted to do with it was hurl it across the room and pray that it shattered into a million little shards rendering it unrecognisable from its former self.

Adama took the radio. “Say what you came to say.”

“We’re skipping the pleasantries are we? Very well. It’s not so much what I came to say, but what you want to retrieve.” The deceptively innocent voice went silent in anticipation – waiting for an indication that the Admiral was still paying attention and willing to participate in the conversation.

“Go on.”

“We have in our possession the majority of Colonial One’s passenger list – they are all alive and well.” Static temporarily distorted the young man’s voice, “Including your president.”

Adama squeezed the radio harder, like the trigger of a gun, at the man’s choice of words. How easily they reduced human beings to possessions. “You said ‘most’.”

“Some resisted the transition. Look Admiral, I am in no mood to sit here and tally up who killed who. The simple fact is that a moment ago you had lost everyone on board Colonial One, now I’m telling you that most of them are still alive. If you want to keep it that way, you need to listen.”

“How do I know? How do I know you’re not bluffing and this isn’t some plan to destroy the rest of this fleet?”

“That’s the trick – you don’t.”

Static once again took control over the transmission. The Lieutenant switched if off and waited for his next instruction.

*~*

Ugh… was all Laura could think as she repositioned herself on the rock. Their neutral planet had turned out to be a humid, hot and generally unpleasant sort of place.

Laura nodded, accepting the man’s sentiments as they started another heated argument inside her head.

*~*

“Bill, they’re bluffing and you know it.” Colonel Tigh moved close enough so that only the Admiral could detect his words. “Just end this now. End this mess. We can easily take this one ship out. Sir, just give the order and we-”

“Be quiet.” The Admiral had a way of administering strength with even the shortest of phrases – Colonel Tigh backed off.

“Yes sir.”

It was a challenge to think clearly with everyone in the world watching you – expecting things of you – not least of all your own thoughts, expectations. Sometimes they yelled loudest of all, drowning out even reason. Today, Bill was yelling so loudly that the Admiral leant lightly on the battle table for support. And there it was; hesitation.

‘The fleet is at stake you idiot, give the order.

The fleet. Your duty is to the fleet. Save them while you can. It’s for the best.’

“Admiral sir?”

Adama hadn’t realised he’d shut his eyes tight and lent over the table, clutching its edge with both hands.

*~*

Hours passed on the planet of Ackros. Where once there had been grey banks of cloud, a soft pastel carpet now hugged the horizon. Pink and golden hues mingling as a dazzle of subtle expression. Occasionally the god’s canvas ripped revealing windows where emerging star light peered in on them. Roslin enjoyed peering back. Something about the distance gave her comfort. Surely, she would tell herself, in all that distance sat a little place called Earth. She let the thought savor in her mind.

Jeffery’s hand rested on his hip, just above the butt of his concealed weapon. The president took to her feet as did Ryan – and then they waited.

*~*

“I see you are ready to listen now.”

The Admiral had ordered the transmission be diverted to his office where Edward, Colonel Tigh and Lee had assembled themselves. Sitting in his office made Adama feel like this conversation was happening more on his own terms, not improvised on demand in the middle of the bridge. “I’m listening.”

The Cylon on the other end grinned. “Glad to hear it. You may be surprised that our original sentiments still stand. We want peace.”

Bullshit. “And how would you propose such a peace be reached?”

“Your complete and unconditional surrender of Galactica and Pegasus.”

Lee rose from his seat to object whilst Colonel Tigh advanced on Adama’s desk ready to take the Cylon on over the phone. “That request is unacceptable – as you are well aware.”

“That was not a request. You are vastly out numbered and sooner or later your pitiful fleet will fall. Surrender you war ships and we will not persue you further.”

“No.”

“As you wish. We will execute one member of your fleet every fifteen minutes until you agree – starting now.”

They were bluffing. “You know what I think – I think you’re afraid, terrified to your very soul – or whatever it is you have – that even with so few of us left we will always be more alive then you’ll ever be.” Bill half shouted the last part, willing himself to believe every word of it. “Even now you’re afraid, afraid of two ships against your thousand.”

A static hesitation proceeded the deafening gunshot.

“You have fifteen minutes.”

*~*

Tense minutes passed. Jeffery moved to stand with the President.

Apparently from no where the Cylon brought Jeffery to the ground. Before the man could reach for his gun, clammy fingers tightened around his neck and yanked it to one side. The sickening noise of vertebra sliding from alignment sank with the heavy air.

*~*

The room was silent except for the harsh crackling of the static. All were statuesque – ill-conceived motion quelled by consequence.

*~*

The President backed away from the figure crouching – dripping. Still startled, she failed to recognise the slightness of his figure, the familiarity of his curls.

“I know who you are.” She backed further away, not wanting to take his outstretched hand after it had so coldly ended a life.

*~*

“Get that thing back on the line.”

Edward nodded and left the room at once.

“Sir, you’re not seriously considering…”

“Peace Colonel, I have to know exactly what I’m dealing with.” I need to know if they’re alive. “Find out if there really are hostages.” I need to know if she’s alive.

*~*

The Cylon stood with hand extended still waiting for acceptance. Laura, like him, knew it must come eventually. She readied herself for when the moment came.

Shit, he was right.

*~*

“That was a short fifteen minutes. I had thought you Admiral, might have pushed the deadline a little – tested my resolve.”

“My knowledge of you resolve is sufficient thank you.” The single note rang inside his head again and again.

*~*

“Madame President?”

*~*

Gods… Laura didn’t even hear him slide the door open.

*~*

“Permission to speak frakking frankly sir?”

“Denied Colonel.” Replied the Admiral firmly – striding toward his desk having replaced the radio on its scared surface. Tigh’s eyes widened -

“Well, I’m going to do it anyway.” he paused momentarily, undoubtedly for effect, “You’re out of your frakking mind.”

“Yes, thank you Colonel, that’s quite enough.” The Admiral’s calm was for show alone, the sensible side of his brain had done nothing but panic since he cut the transmission. The Colonel was not the first to call him a madman – and William prayed he wouldn’t be the last. Given what the Admiral had just proposed, he felt he’d thoroughly earned the title this time.

The Colonel’s mouth seemed to be stuck in the open position and his eyelids pinned back so that the whites of his eyes displayed hints of unrestrained wildness. He spoke slowly – disbelievingly, “You frakked with a Cylon.”

“The Chief frakked with a Cylon, knowing Baltar he’s probably frakked with a Cylon. All I did was bullshit it a little.” Possibly a lot… Tigh backed off at this, perhaps remembering the youth the Admiral and he had once shared – and Adama’s uncanny track record when it came to brilliant rashness. Regardless, this was going to be a long day.

“Dad.” Lee moved in closer to the desk, his new insignia catching a few stray beams of light, “are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive.”

*~*

A set of hands moved with mechanical precision in the darkness of the engineering deck. Somewhere behind one of the pressure systems lay the body of someone who would not be missed for many weeks, the only evidence of their departure from this mad world – a streak of black across the floor. The hands worked the device, severing and reforming connections faltering only when the first drip of fresh blood hit the floor. The Cylon ignores it, it is not the first time he has heard blood fall.

From this deck the deep rumble of Colonial One’s engines shake the floor – she is moving, preparing to make the next jump.

*~*

Admiral Adama sat on his couch. If the Cylon’s wanted Battlestar and Pegasus they were going to have to fight him for them. A lousy way to play at peace… Bill opened his eyes – Gods damn it, since when was Roslin part of his conscience?

No matter how much they fooled themselves, two Battleships would never buy peace – for anyone. The Cylons want an exchange, and they’ll get one.

Peace – for war.

*~*

Adama waited at the door, hand resting on the frame though careful not to lean against it. She startled.

“The Cylon we met with,” the words forced themselves forward as her vision blurred, “it was Billy.” A tear fell and she might have followed had he still not been holding onto her. Not long ago he had listened discreetly as she lost more than friend – now she lost him again as every moment was rewritten.

*~*

“So, the Cylons are expecting us to arrive at these,” Lee pointed at the numbers on the display as the eyes of the room followed, “co-ordinates. They also expect us to have one civilian vessel in tow ready to dock both the hostages and the remaining crew of Battlestar and Pegasus. We are to operate on minimum staff, and depart the ship once the hostages are confirmed aboard. We can expect a large percentage of the Cylon fleet to be present at the exchange. They’re keeping it simple, we give them what they want, they give us what we want – with one small exception. We don’t get the President until they’ve secured our warships. Any questions?”

Several hands in the room shot up, Lee absently picked one, “Yes Commander, I have a question. Is that actually going to be our plan? Looks pretty frakked to me.”

Starbuck had that mutinous streak – and if it had been anyone but her… However Lee was grateful someone pointed out the ‘flaws’ in their plan. “Like the Major, Adama thinks a better plan is in order.”

*~*

Laura’s hands had fallen by her side, trembling as she stood there. Bill was at a loss – he didn’t know what she needed. So he stood there also – perhaps taking a step every now and then until he was close enough to hear everything about her. Then he waited.

“I know, it’s okay.” He stroked her hair while she cried and murmured into his jacket.

*~*

“I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is that should this plan succeed we might end up kicking some serious Toaster ass. The bad news is that we will lose a ship.” Hushed voices started talking amongst themselves at this – Lee raised his hand and the group returned to quiet. “The only people who know what I am about to tell you are in this room. Needless to say it must stay in this room. Battlestar and Pegasus will proceed to co-ordinates on skeleton crew accompanied by our Civilian. All three ships will be infected with a computer virus designed to initiate a jump sequence – this will execute with or without human/cylon interaction. Once our ships have made the jump a fourth ship from the fleet will jump to the Cylon co-ordinates. On board is a nuclear device, powerful enough to take out pretty much everything. All that’s left is to retrieve our ships and knock off any stragglers. Now, are there any more questions?”

“Yes Commander, I have a question. Is that actually going to be our plan? Looks pretty frakked to me.”

*~*

Colonial One making the jump seemed to waken Laura from Adama’s shoulder. Remembering where she was, she loosened herself from his grip and put a few feet between them.

The Admiral, more confused by women then ever, headed out from her office and prepared to make for Battlestar.

*~*

Number Six ran her arms around Baltar’s neck and let her head rest on his shoulder – her eyes watching the computer screen in front of him. “What mischief are you up to this time?”

Baltar, always pleased for the distraction, lent smugly back in his chair. “Creating a virus. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“Oh,” she smiled, nuzzling his neck, “something else.”

Baltar removed a hand that had strayed, “Well, you may just have to give me a moment – this is sort of important to my continued survival and therefore our continued – yes exactly.”

“I don’t want you on this ship when all this happens.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice considering it’s my virus and if anything happens-”

“No, I mean it. You’re not to be on that ship.”

Baltar turned from his screen, “What do you know?”

“Nothing, I – just don’t want you there.”

“You know something – tell me.”

Number Six looked carefully at the man she loved, she had such great plans for him. “They know of course, well, they don’t know exactly what you’re doing but they know you have no intention of honoring the bargain – and neither do they.”

*~*

Laura never made it to her bed – her mind would think of nothing else but the Cylons and Billy. Hours later she lay draped over the upholstery of the couch, a yellowing folder held lightly inching its way towards the ground with every breath. She slept heavily – drifting in earlier times, happier times.

The deception had begun.

*~*

Baltar untangled himself and held her in front of him. “They know? That’s bad that’s very bad.”

“Do you see why you can’t be on this ship now?”

“I have to go.” He rose from his seat. “I have to tell Adama.”

“Tell him what? That you mysteriously know what the Cylons are thinking? The man is already suspicious of you.”

“Yes but you see if I don’t tell him then all your plans for my survival and this future you seem to have planned for us won’t happen. If this goes down in its current state, it won’t matter which ship I’m on.”

Number Six gripped the chair crossly, realising he was right.

“You could make a difference – you could help us – help me. We could go so far you and I.”

*~*

The price we pay for peace is often too high – and I know that now, but we must remember that peace is rarely conquered in battle.

Once, long ago, man picked his blade and readied the field for war. Now there are no more prayers – for the mortal there is no escaping the doom he must endure by his own hand. Children who seek revenge on their parents, look to gods for guidance and see where we have miss-seen are as deadly as the god’s ill-favour – both of which we must suffer. I wonder if you can feel this ancient destiny that leads us now, holds us and guides us on the path we prepared with unkindness? To stray from this path would be to challenge destiny herself – to break those laws born before man – and defy the mighty god that lives within them. I left because I believed it was time to shatter the vault of heaven, to give ourselves a chance to re-sow the field free of blood. Let chance once again rule our lives where not even the Cylons can see a day ahead of the night. In chance there is no fear.

The time is upon us where we can no longer send our sons and daughters out with the knowledge that they will not return for the sake of an empty goal. Survival is not always enough to sustain life. We are moving blindly about in the darkness toward what we both know is an inevitably unattainable goal. In times like these we need more to fight for – to live for, then a future existing in myth. People need life to be tangible – they must be able to feel its promise, run their hands over the hope that is freedom – not live off empty words.

I meant what I said to you the last time I thought the gods had spent me; I need you to live for a long time. This fleet is quite possibly all that is left of the human race and its care now falls to you – for I fear, more than anything, those who would otherwise inherit it.

I carry with me many regrets both mine and others, but I do not regret my decision to go – this does not surprise you… Nevertheless, in failing I fear I have left you with heavier burdens – the fault being mine alone.

Even though I did not succeed at least both sides have felt – momentarily, what the future might be. We have seen Cylons capable of feeling – of compassion, loyalty, fear and love. Human emotions. Perhaps these are the things that frighten me the most because they command our attention – shout out at us and demand that we acknowledge this shift in the universe. The gods create life, are cruel to it – just to it. We created life and now we must weigh our cruelty with justice or risk being destroyed by it.

The last favour I ask of you as President is that if we are to die – if we are to die; we do it with everything that makes us who and what we are intact. Therefore it is my last wish that you rescind my policy on abortion and bring about an end to one regret I do not wish to endure. If we cannot have peace amongst ourselves then we do not deserve it at all. Acknowledging this is the first step toward peace.

There is no pleasure in breaking the silence of mysteries, so let me end where I began. Fight only to survive if our lives are deserved, avoid revenges’ empty breath – defend the words of truth even when they bring the greatest of grievances and you will have nothing to fear.

Finally William – Bill, time is never long enough to say the words we meant to. You are not a man to waste them or use them wantonly, however, sometimes I know that when you spoke it may have seemed like I did not hear, did not care or did not notice.

But believe me when I say that I noticed, I cared and I heard you – every word.

Your President; Laura’

In honesty, the Admiral knew he shouldn’t have read the letter – but now he had. The pages were still held firmly in his hands, their damaged edges prevented from shaking, all presented as evidence of his trespass. In the lowered lighting of his desk he read and re-read the precious words and imagined her, as if she were there – reading them to him. It was the letter of a President to her Admiral – except the last few lines. He read them over and over forgetting all other words. Your President. As she spoke inside his head he thought it would have been easier if he had lost her already, then perhaps he could forgo the torment of this letter.

“Dad,” Lee strode into Adama’s office in what appeared to be mid flight. His arm holding a clipboard tightly – eyes scanning it as he relayed its contents. “I have a status report from the bridge and a message just came in from Pegasus saying that they have completed the arrangements for the mission. Tigh asked me to ask you if he’s allowed to incarcerate Thrace for being a – and I quote, “insubordinate pain in the ass”. The virus is two hours from completion and Baltar mumbled something about dropping by later today – hopefully to confess to insanity and withdraw from the presidency race – but that might be asking too much. Ah -” Lee finally looked up at his dad when he failed to respond to his second joke only to find him shuffling papers across his desk and into a nearby draw, “what are you doing exactly?”

“Hmm?” Adama closed the draw containing Roslin’s letter. “Oh – just sorting through some of the old texts found on Kobol.”

It may have just been Lee’s imagination, but he could have sworn they were just about to launch a ‘live or die’ attack on the Cylons and here was the Admiral – shuffling through thousand year old paper… “Why…?”

“It occurred to me, that all the wisdom we are using to fight this – this war, is based upon that which was handed down by the great generals of the last Cylon battles.”

“Well,” Lee shifted, lowering his clipboard, “they were very successful strategists – I mean, we won.”

“I am aware of that. We’re not winning now though – it may have taken me a while, but I think I know why.”

“You do?” Lee hoped against hope that his dad wasn’t losing it at this crucial moment.

“Something the President said.” Not the words Lee was praying for. “The Cylons, they behave differently now. Bickering amongst themselves, fighting for internal power – driven by feelings rather than code. Acting almost as humans. And the truth is that we do not know how to fight a war like that. These scrolls date back to a time when humans fought each other. The wisdom they give is for an enemy that is unpredictable, irrational and motivated.”

“Dad, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to base our war plans on texts you found on some planet…”

“Read it.” Adama took up one of the sheets and handed it to Lee who took it as a last attempt to indulge his father and hopefully rid him of this train of thought.

Warfare is the Tao of deception.
Thus:
Although you are capable, display incapability.
When committed to employing your forces, feign inactivity.
When your objective is nearby, make it appear distant; when distant, create the illusion of being nearby.
Display profits to entice them.
Create disorder in their forces and take them.
If they are substantial, prepare for them.
If they are strong, avoid them.
If they are angry, perturb them.
Be deferential to foster their arrogance.
If they are rested, force them to exert themselves.

“Dad?”

“Do you see now?”

*~*

“…itional surrender of Galactica and Pegasus.”

One of the Cylons unveiled its weapon, “No, it’s alright, let her stand. I was just having a nice chat with the Admiral.”

*~*

Number Six was unhappy. If there was one thing she would not tolerate in a relationship – it was being manipulated. That was, after all, her job.

“Please stop sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.” She crossed her arms and skidded away when he reached for her.

“Well, at least you’re not beating the crap out of me. I still have the bruises from the last time that happened.”

She smiled a little.

“It’s for the best.” said Baltar, carrying himself along the corridor toward Adama’s office.

“I know that. You need to know that I’ll do everything I can to ensure your survival.”

“Well that’s comforting I guess-”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.” One of the guards in the corridor raised his hands in surprise and Baltar found himself apologizing again. “Please, continue.”

“If this includes Colonial One so be it, but my generosity does not extend to the President.”

“Roslin?”

“For a few brief hours, you were president of the colonies – and you could be again.”

Baltar thought this through privately, if for some reason, Roslin didn’t make it out alive then he would inherit the presidency by default. Judging by the latest polls this would almost certainly secure his victory in the upcoming election. The further he travelled down the corridor, the more he realised thta this was the perfect chance to secure his own survival.

Baltar was surprised at his own genius plan.

“Dr – is there something I can help you with or are you happy standing on my rug?”

“Ah, Admiral,” Baltar re-animated and advanced toward the desk in a nervous – hesitant way. “It’s about this plan of yours.”

“Mmm.” Grunted Adama, not yet interested enough to look up from the Kobol papers. “Is there a problem with the virus?”

“What? No…”

“Good.” The Admiral continued to work his way through the scrolls of ancient knowledge. Simulated chaos is given birth from control; the illusion of fear is given birth from courage; feigned weakness is given birth from strength. Adama was not in any hurry to rush Baltar, if history was something to be trusted then the content of this conversation was going to be obscure, suspicious yet ultimately invaluable.

This being said, Adama needed Baltar to be afraid of him – it was the only way to stay in constant check.

“It’s uh… Just that – well…”

‘This is going well.’ Baltar twitched as she wound her fingers through his hair.

“That is VERY distracting.”

“Pardon?”

“Admiral – yes… What I came to say was,” he cleared his throat, “you’re plan is not going to work.”

Not faltering as he read across an interesting section of text, the Admiral spoke in a steady tone – feigning indifference, “You know this do you?”

“Uh, yes – actually.”

“And what bolt from the gods brings you to this conclusion?” His intense curiosity motivated the Admiral to lift his gaze.

“The Cylons do not intend to honor their end of the negotiation.”

“This I know.”

“No, what I meant to say is that the only ships waiting for you at the location are Cylon DeathStars. Admiral – there is something important you need to know. Colonial One is intact sir, and unprotected. This may be that one chance in a million.”

*~*

Laura found herself alone with Billy in her office – his figure relaxed in the president’s chair. She had just confirmed her existence to Adama only to have her life threatened once again.

“I’m asking you not to sacrifice Billy for anything. If you want to kill me then do it, but do it for your own reasons, not for theirs.”

*~*

Adama gathered his heads of staff around the table. Ladies and Gentlemen, you have been called here to be informed of a slight change of plan – “

*~*

Billy was back in the past, sitting beside Laura’s bed as she slipped further into death’s grip.

“Billy – please.”

*~*

“Are we set then? Colonel Tigh – it’s time to get him back on the line.”

“Yes sir.”

“Tomorrow, it is the art of war that we practice. We have each composed our score and have only to play the music while the gods dance and sing out our naivety.”

*~*

The radio came to life – breaking the intense moment between them.

“That’ll be Adama now.”

*~*

Roslin displayed none of the fear that held tight hold over her thoughts.

Billy did not react to the sudden static over the line – only brought it back to his mouth with cold malice and whispered into its receiver, “And so it must”

*~*

The computer screens, set and ready for battle flickered – their contents dissolving into darkness momentarily before jolting back to focus. Several around the bridge faltered – dropping whatever was in their shaking hands or in-taking breath a little quicker than usual. Admiral Adama stood in the centre of the room, statuesque beside the battle table.

Silent and stationary.

Dr. Baltar stirred nervously next to him, the eyes of the room settling upon his gaunt figure only to dart away a moment later. Adama broke his façade, lifting his intense gaze to search Baltar for suggestions reassurance.

“It’s the virus,” he motioned to the screens, “I explained to you that there may be some instability – distortion of – “

“I get it.” his guttural speech, even at this low volume, amplified throughout the room.

“Right.” Balter promptly closed his mouth, returning to his permanently defensive pose. I’ll just die quietly over here then for your amusement.

“Now, now – it’s not like you to take that tone…” Six wound her way though the bridge in four inch heels – crimson dress cut above the knee.

Baltar groaned, “It’s you…”

“You were expecting someone else?” she said, maneuvering herself on top of the battle table – leaning inappropriately over the Admiral whose expression remained fixed on the hours ahead. Baltar rolled his eyes theatrically at the display, pacing away toward the edge of the room. She was not fazed. “How is our little plan fairing?”

“Frak off why don’t you.”

“I can’t.” Gaeta folded his arms crossly at the Dr. who hand intruded into his section of the room.

“Oh gods, not again.” He went to turn from Gaeta muttering a; “Nevermind.”

Baltar frowned – still pacing. Six smiled. “Try and enjoy this as much as I am.”

Many times now the pit of his stomach dropped and a hammer set to work beating down on what little was left of his brain. His abnormally small conscience uncurled itself from behind Aries and screamed something along the lines, ‘you idiot – what have I told you about six foot, robotic blonds?’ And now her smug expression got the better of him.

“Try, please, to comprehend how serious this is! We are about to undertake in a full scale attack against the Cylons which will more than likely end up with me dead – one way or another. You Relax!”

Six merely turned that smug expression into a delighted smile. “I am.”

“Gods frak the frakking frak of frak!” and with that he sent someone’s water shattering to the floor.

*~*

Laura had been locked in the holding cell aboard Colonial One for three hours. She had counted every bar – inventoried each crack along the walls where residual moisture from the ventilation system seeped through.

“Take care Laura.” and then he had disappeared – possibly forever.

*~*

“Start prep for jump sequence Galactica, Pegasus and Civilian.” Adama gave the signal to Dee who relayed it to the fleet.

“Sir, Pegasus requests a line.”

Adama nodded and picked up the radio. “Pegasus, this is Galactica.”

“Good luck dad.” Adama stopped, turning slightly and lowering his voice.

“Same to you son.”

“Count to jump, twenty seconds and counting.” Dee started the sequence.

Twelve floors below them Viper pilots started their engines in preparation for the fight ahead. Chief issued a few final orders and checks before clearing the squad for a launch that could possibly be their last. Baltar reclined on a stray chair next to a computer consol, ready and awaiting the Admiral’s command – Six perched on the bench edge next to him.

“T minus ten…”

Adama took hold of the Battle table as the ship compressed into a dimension outside his – then broke through seconds later.

“Report?”

“Cylon DeathStars sir, lots of them – I’m counting more than several dozen.”

Baltar quietly swore in the backdrop. Adama seemed unshaken. “Colonial One?”

“No sir. No friendlies.”

“Right, sit tight everyone – this is one we have to wait out.”

The spires on the death stars unfurled letting lose with full force. Adama repeated his command, “Do not engage the enemy – stand fast.”

The sounds of pre-war spread through the emptiness of space. Battlestar and Pegasus – two imposing giants in the night, clung protectively around the civilian vessel. Baltar was right, they had been set up for an ambush. Within seconds the space erupted into light as twenty or more death stars escaped the night, the glimpses of their form visible only by the faint starlight.

“Sir, on your mark.”

“Wait for it.” Adama stood, waiting for that last moment. And there it was, the Cylon command vessel, emerging from behind its army. “Mark!”

The two human ships simultaneously vanished from the field.

*~*

Laura huddled behind a stray Raptor – the sharp steel a bare shell here on the ground. These things were meant to fly – their aerodynamic form awkward on the ground.

“Well,” she moved her thumb across it, “better now than later.”

*~*

-re-emerging on Colonial One’s wing. The third drifted in front of the battle – drawing its enemies in until the last moment when atomic fire erupted from its heart and ripped its surrounds apart.

Billy’s link to the Cylon main fleet cut without warning, he turned to his second in command. “What the Frak is goi -” his speech halted as the darkened hull of Galactica drifted across his window. “Gods-”

*~*

“Sir, we’re in position.”

“Deploy the Vipers and open the channel.”

“Yes Sir – ready Sir.”

“Attention Cylons; this is Admiral Adama. We have you surrounded – there is no escape.”

His voice could be heard through Colonial One’s entirety. Across the ship people rose to their feet and moved to the windows to watch the progress of the two great Battlestars accompanied by their fleet of Vipers.

The Admiral cut the line momentarily, “Now would be a good time Dr.!”

Baltar nodded and hit the command button to launch the computer virus into Colonial One’s systems.

“How long did you say this would take?”

“No more then a minute.”

“Let’s just hope we have a minute then.” Adama restored the connection, “Prepare to be boarded – resistance will be met with the full force of this fleet.” Bill hoped that would keep Billy thinking for a minute…

*~*

Roslin closed her eyes – testing her trust, her judgment. She could only pray she was not misguided.

The time between these actions seemed without end.

*~*

“Admiral – ” Dee left her post momentarily, “there’s someone on the other channel – shall I connect it through?”

“Yes.” he picked up the other line, “This is Galactica Actual.”

“Admiral – we meet again…” it was Billy, they all knew it – the whole room. Adama was not fazed, all he had to do was keep this man talking for forty more seconds – he could handle that.

“I am only interested in discussing your complete, unconditional surrender.” Adama said the words confidently – though as he spoke them he glanced over to Baltar for a progress report on the virus. He had to keep Billy talking for at least half a minute more. A lot could happen in half a minute and that was what he was afraid of.

“Do not play games with me Admiral, your President is sitting opposite me with a Cylon gun to her head – I believe it is your surrender we have come to discuss.”

This was not the direction Adama wanted to move in.

*~*

A small green dot plotted itself on Commander Lee Adama’s screen.

“Lieutenant, what is that?”

The man approached the screen, “It looks like some kind of energy signature.”

“I thought these sensors only picked up ships – this one looks like it’s coming from inside of Colonial One.”

“I don’t know sir.”

“Find out.” The Lieutenant nodded and approached the nearest technicians.

*~*

Laura cried quietly against the wall. She was not dead – some imprint of humanity had remained within Billy. Evidence that there could still be a hope, somewhere out there, for humans and cylons to find peace with each other.

*~*

“Sir, Pegasus wishes to speak with you.”

Adama held his hand over the receiver, “Tell him to hold.”

“Sir.” she nodded. Baltar held up seven fingers, folding one after the other over until his hand indicated that the mission was a go.

“Jump sequence a go.” Dee held on as all three ships now jumped together – guided by clever programming, to an undisclosed location.

“You are all alone now Billy,” said Adama – his voice still carrying down the corridors and down into the flight deck where Roslin rose to her feet, “Your fleet is not coming for you – they do no even know where you are. Give it up!”

*~*

‘No’ thought Roslin, don’t do anything stupid Admiral. Not when we are so close to final victory.

*~*

“My fleet may be gone, but I can still take your President from you. Step down Admiral.”

“How do I know she is even alive?”

“My word.”

“Your word is dust – either prove it or prepare to be boarded.”

“Admiral, it’s Commander Lee – he says -” Dee paused.

“Says what? We haven’t got time for this…”

“Sir, he says there is an unusual energy signature showing up on his screens – I’ve just tuned us into the frequency – there, see?”

Adama examined the small abnormality. “Does he know what it is?”

“No sir.”

The Admiral went silent – ignoring Billy on the other line who was still trying to threaten himself out of the situation despite being significantly outnumbered. When the Admiral did finally speak – it was set about a sequence of events that could not be shifted once their gears began.

“Pegasus, Galactica; prepare to board Colonial One. Kill every Cylon you see.”

“Sir – are you sure?” Adama said nothing – only looked her square in the eye. “Yes sir.”

The Admiral picked up the line to Pegasus, “Commander – send the first squadron you can to the location of the energy signature – I have a feeling about this.”

“Copy that Admiral. Good hunting.” Lee put the radio down and issued his own commands and soon the sky around Colonial One was filled with the silent roar of Raptors and Vipers descending upon its hull.

*~*

In space – no one can hear you scream; nor can they hear the roar of battle giants cruise across the black sheet of sleepless night.

Without warning, the docking bay sprung to life and two Raptors propelled themselves forward onto the runway mere feet from where she was hiding.

*~*

From within Colonial One – a small fleet of Cylon ships took to space – abandoning the fight. Commander Lee Adama ordered a squadron of Vipers after them – chasing them off into dusk behind the nearby asteroid.

Occasional plumes of flame ripped into the vacuum – collapsing in on themselves from the lack of oxygen leaving only embers burning hotly in their path.

Down through Colonial One, Galactica and Pegasus personnel released hostages and hunted down stray Cylons creeping through labyrinth networks of rooms. Final stand offs taking lives – but not human souls.

“Admiral – Pegasus Actual.” Dee handed the receiver to him.

“This is Galactica Actual.”

“Admiral – we have the President on board.” Adama did not shift from his battle warn expression, “Job well done – let’s clean this mess up. I want my fleet back.”

“Yes sir. And sir?”

“Commander?”

“How did you know it was her?”

Adama smiled quietly to himself so that no one else would see. “I had a feeling.” The line to Pegasus terminated as the two ships cleared the field of stray Cylons.

“Sir, we have word from Colonial One – Billy is gone. No trace. We detected on of the Cylon ships entering jump a few minutes ago – more than likely…”

“It was him.” he sighed. Throwing that thing out the air lock was a pleasure he had been looking forward to. “So he’s gone then. Right, let us get back to the fleet – this battle has gone cold.”

*~*

TWO HOURS LATER: ABOARD BATTLESTAR GALACTICA

Adama sat in his office, rolling his biro back and forward across the scared wooden surface of the desk.

“Admiral – I’m unsure what the custom is when a military man is promoted,” her cheeks blushed slightly as she removed the slender case from her own jacket, “so I hope this is suitable.”

“I wanted to.” She smiled nervously as he opened it.

Bill smiled. A gentle knock at the door interrupting upon his thoughts. One of the officers outside the door stepped into his office.

“Admiral, there is someone who wishes to see you.” the man stepped aside allowing her to enter. Bill rose from his seat.

“Madame President.”

“Admiral.”

And that was where the formalities ended.

*~*

He had offered to escort her to the press conference, she had accepted with an overdue smile that lingered on both their lips. They walked quietly for a while, enjoying the silence that often flowed between them.

The Admiral moved his other hand to her back as he directed her around a corner, “It’s good to have you with us.”

A wicked grin turned the corners of mouth, “Sorry about that, we ran into some trouble with the jump drive – won’t happen again.”

“I should hope not.”

They made the last turn together, the excited chatter of the press room seeping through the walls. “Oh and Admiral, out of interest, when you thought I was, you know – well anyway, I left a certain letter lying about.”

“I know the one.” that guilty action of reading it and its revealing contents still very much at the forefront of his mind.

“You didn’t – read it, did you?”

Bill looked at Laura with the full force of his affection, and – as he so often did, spoke in those precious few words.

“Word for word.”

*~*