Survive
By John Reid
December 28, 1999

     "So, are you in or do you fold?  It's not a difficult question."
     Regan scowled above the top of his cards at the player across the
table.  Micha winked.  He'd always been a cocky daggit in cards.  Sure,
he had his fair share of winning hands, but so had Regan.  "I'm in, and I
raise you ten cubits."  Regan smiled back and fingered his six cards
lovingly.
     "I'm out," Reagan's wingman Tojay said as he threw down his cards
and took a swig from his mug.
     "Me too," followed Raner.  "This is getting too rich for my poor
warrior bank account."
     Regan smiled.  Raner almost always folded early ever since they'd
started playing cards together a few yahrens ago.  Regan knew he was
usually outmatched when playing cards, but he didn't care.  He mostly
liked the companionship with his peers and the thrill of playing.  On a
rare occasion, he got lucky and won a few cubits.  Today had been
different though.  Reagan thought that this hand would do the trick for
him yet again.
     Micha stroked his dark mustache out of habit as he contemplated his
cards.  He hadn't expected a challenge and paused for a moment. "OK,
Regan, I call.  Let's see what you've got."  He laid down a four-leveled
Pyramid with matching red stars and leaned back in his chair with an air
of confidence.
     Regan shook my head slowly.  "Not this one, my friend."  His cards
fell on the table beside Micha's.  "A four leveled Pyramid with matching
blue stars.  I win."  
     Micha made a sour face and balled his fists in mock anger.  "I
thought I had you that time, Captain."  He loved to mock his good friend
when he was beaten in cards fair and square.  "Looks like you're still on
that lucky streak.  How about another hand, guys?"
     Regan raked the small pile of cubits in his direction and started
stuffing his uniform pockets.  "No way you scoundrel.  I'm running with
what I've got."
     Both Tojay and Raner shook their heads no and quickly stood up from
the table.  They'd lost enough money in one day since Regan had won the
last four out of six hands.  The Captain wasn't exactly known as a card
shark in the warrior's barracks, but even he could have his day at
Pyramid.
     Regan headed over to where some more of his buddies from Black
Squadron were watching a viewscreen very intently.  He looked around and
noticed that just about everybody was there.  All the other card games
and friendly carousing had ended.  Micha and Tojay were right behind him,
but Raner went to his bunk to read some unopened mail.  He was more of a
loner and wasn't one to socialize too much.
     The viewscreen was normally used to play entertainment shows (of one
sort or another) but today was showing scenes from the peace conference
that was taking place at this very moment.  An unbelievable peace
conference with humanity's most hated and feared enemy:  the Cylon
Empire.  There had been war for almost a thousand yahrens, so it seemed
almost impossible if not ludicrous for the hostilities to end.  The
Colonies hadn't known a time when everything and everyone wasn't on a war
footing.  The theorists didn't even know if the Colonies' economies could
remain the same without the war.  Regan was still very skeptical, a
stance very common among members of the Fleet who'd fought the machine
monstrosities for so long.  There were those who believed whole heartedly
that the Cylons were tired of fighting and desired peace.  They probably
would have invited the Imperious Leader to dinner if they could have.  
     Regan could only sigh at the stupidity of it all.  Those folks were
deluding themselves and other easily swayed colonial citizens.  Even if
there was to be a peace settlement it would probably be short lived.  The
last one had been four hundred yahrens ago and had supposedly lasted
three months.  No, he much preferred to be a skeptic.  When Regan saw a
Cylon walking around, he preferred to have a laser pistol in hand with
the safety off.
     "This is such a load of felgercarb," said Tojay as he folded his
hands across his broad chest.  "The Cylons cannot want peace.  It goes
against everything their society is based on - to exterminate humans.  I
don't care what Councilman Baltar says.  My gut says not to trust any of
it.  What do you think, Regan?"  
     As the leader of Black Squadron, Regan had to say something.  The
younger pilots looked to him for an opinion to see if it matched their
own.  It wasn't like he hadn't made his stance obvious to Tojay ever
since this whole thing started a few sectons ago.  
     Regan nodded to the comment.  "I'd trust a Cylon about as far as I
could throw one.  That tells you what I think?"  The other warriors
standing around chuckled  
     Regan focused his attention to the pretty lady on the viewscreen, a
news anchor from Sagitara who was covering the hottest story in
centuries.  She was standing in a large downtown area in some metropolis,
probably one on Northern Continent where he was from, but he missed the
exact name.  It didn't look like Ubris City.  Tens of thousands of people
were gathered in a huge outdoor market square to see the first Cylon
emissaries arrive at the Council of Twelve's representative battlestar,
the Atlantia.  A small corner of the picture showed a camera angle of the
entire Colonial fleet gathered around Cimtar, a Colonial outpost not too
far from Arieana's star system.  
     The Cylons had requested a meeting place inside Colonial space, and
of course the Council of Twelve had agreed since the tin cans had been
waving the proverbial white flag.  Plus, Arieana was President Adar's
home planet, so it only made sense to them that the meeting should happen
near there.
     Regan had to admit that seeing the entire fleet gathered together
was an awesome sight.  Traditional Colonial strategy called for
battlestars to operate in triads with their supporting ships and
fighters.  The last time there'd been a military maneuver like this had
been twenty-five yahrens ago.  He had been but a lad of ten on Sagitarra
when he watched the largest military strike in human history take place
against the Cylon homeworld.  He remembered how proud he'd been of his
family's achievements as the  news shows ran every night.  Regan's father
had been a fighter pilot then, and his grandfather had commanded the
battlestar Prometheus in the fight.  
     The Cylon homeworld had been decimated, but their cyborg society was
such that it didn't take more than a few months for them to be back up to
full fighting potential.  After that, every other attempt to attack the
enemy's homeworld had failed because of overwhelming defenses.  Things
had changed dramatically on the Prometheus since then.  Regan's
grandfather had been killed in battle over Cimtar nearly thirteen yahrens
ago when he'd been a young cadet on board.  Regan's father currently
commanded the mighty warship, being given command at his own father's
funeral all those yahrens ago.  How ironic to see the peace conference
with the Cylons over the very same moon, just a small mining enterprise. 
In his mind, it seemed to negate all that his father and grandfather had
fought for those many yahrens ago.  Watching this ridiculous show made
Regan sick to his stomach.   
     All the battlestars had not gathered together since that glorious
battle against the Cylon homeworld.  Under normal circumstances there
would have been twelve of the behemoths, one to represent each colony. 
The number was more traditional rather than functional, and the idea of
expanding the fleet to include more battlestars had been around for
centuries.  They could have proven most useful in the war effort.  But,
the Council of Twelve chose to have only twelve battlestars at one time
and appropriated more money for planetary defenses, smaller auxillary
warships, armed support and supply ships, and armed outposts.
     The twelfth spot was currently vacant since the Pegasus had been
lost over Molokay two yahrens ago battling three base ships.  She and her
brilliant commander, Cain, were sorely missed by everyone in the
Colonies, but the spot would be filled eventually by a new ship.  The
Pegasus hailed from Gemoni, so the foundation of the new battlestar had 
been laid down in that planet's orbiting shipyards.  It would be
completed soon, assuming that the government chose to finish it in light
of the peace process.  In the manner of Colonial tradition the name of
the battlestar would not be revealed until the vessel's day of
christening.  If all went according to schedule, the Colonial Fleet could
be up to full operating strength in a couple more yahrens.   
     Thankfully for the human side, the Cylons rarely utilized fleet
strategy, and let their gigantic baseships attack individually without
consulting with each other.  One would think they would have adjusted
their military planning after nearly a thousand yahrens of war.  Regan
thought it was a poor way to deploy large warships, not that he minded
any.  The cyborgs had millions of centurions to spare.  That just made a
warrior's jobs of blowing their fighters out of space that much easier. 
It probably had something to do with their creepy reptile/machine
mentality that humans couldn't easily comprehend.  Regan shivered
slightly involuntarily.  Thinking of Cylons for too long could sometimes
do that to a person.
    
     On the massive bridge of the Battlestar Prometheus, Commander Able
pursed his lips in frustration at the so-called 'event of the millenium'
taking place on the viewscreens around him.  Not in all his sixty yahrens
had he seen such foolishness.  How could there be peace with the Cylons? 
Really, what was the Council of Twelve thinking?  What was Count Baltar
thinking?  Did they really think for a micron that those mechanized
devils could be swayed from their one sole mission, the one that had
driven them for generations, the extermination of humanity?  Yet, on the
viewscreens before him and his bridge crew was ample evidence.  Video
programs from all over the Colonies, both civilian and military, showed
how the populace was reacting to the peace accords.  There was footage of
the Festival of Peace in Caprica City on Caprica covered by a pretty,
young brunette correspondent who looked like she should be in high school
rather than on camera.  Citizens from all over the predominantly water
world of Taura had made huge flowered wreaths and thrown them into the
planet's oceans, creating enormous colored platforms of floating petals
that were even visible from space.  The population of Leosia made the day
the first official Peace Day, proclaiming it the newest and most
important planet-wide holiday.  There were thousands of feasts and balls
going on at the very moment on all the colonial worlds.
     Able felt the presence of his first officer by his side on the
raised command platform that overlooked the other surrounding stations. 
"Pretty disgusting if you ask me, sir," stated Colonel Demeter.  She
crossed her arms across her chest and chuckled softly with absolutely no
humor in her tone.  "Did you see what the crew of the Atlantia did?  They
painted the word 'peace' on the top hull of their ship so everyone in the
Fleet could see it.  Can you believe that, sir?  The Atlantia's refit was
just completed after the damage it took at Krothos from that Cylon fleet,
and now they're ready to crawl into bed with the redeyes."
     "I can believe almost anything these days," replied Able.  He walked
to a monitor that showed long range sensor scans.  It depicted the
approaching Cylon emissaries, a baseship with a full complement of
fighter craft.  All less than five centons away with  the Fleet's own
defenses down.  No Vipers were space born except for a few patrols, and
no laser cannons were activated.  All eleven battlestars were vulnerable,
not to mention all the freighters, tankers, troop carriers, and other
support ships--everything at the urging of Count Baltar and the rest of
the Council.  They'd stated that the Colonials absolutely did not under
any circumstances want to present an offensive message to the Cylon
emissaries.  It could undermine the peace accords.  Commander Able ran
through a few foul words in his head to describe the whole situation.  
     "At least Sagitara isn't buying into all this," said Demeter as she
pulled her shoulder blond hair back behind her ears.  "The entertainment
channels from home aren't treating this with much gusto.  In fact, I
haven't seen much joy from any entertainment  personality over there."
     "Good," muttered Able.  He knew his home colony would be sensible. 
"Proves that there are some sane people still left in the Colonies.  I
hope that their planetary defenses are on alert.  What about our own?"
     "White Squadron pilots are standing by in their Vipers.  Black
Squadron pilots are in their barracks.  All short-range laser batteries
are primed and ready to be activated at your command.  Thermo missiles
are not yet armed but are ready to launch.  Mega-lasers are standing by. 
We have a full load of fuel and are ready to make light speed," recited
the Colonel from memory.  She'd seen to it all herself that the
battlestar was primed for anything.
     "Excellent, Number One," murmured Able in appreciation.  His orders
had been carried out to his satisfaction.  "At least we will not be
unprepared."

     The Cylon emissaries neared the gigantic human Colonial Fleet
orbiting Cimtar at flank speed.  The baseship was not standing down as
its counterparts were doing and was at attack readiness.  One thousand
fighters from other baseships further away surrounded the gigantic
spool-like vessel like angry bees ready to sting.  The Imperious Leader
was still on the homeworld contemplating the stupidity and naivete of the
humans.  There had been no real intentions for peace on the part of his
race, only a master plan for a dramatic and strategic victory to end the
thousand-yahren-old war.  He had almost been  disappointed in the lack of
intelligence in his lifelong foes.  That the humans actually believed
that the Cylons wanted peace was just more evidence of their inferiority
as a race.  In the Imperious Leader's three advanced brains, that further
justified the need to exterminate them.  Most Cylons (excluding the
Imperious Leader, of course) could think only in direct terms, but
Council of Twelve member Count Balter of Canceria had taught them how to
be devious and cunning.  Before coming into contact with that human the
concept of betrayal had not been a part of Cylon programming, but it was
a new concept worthy of consideration.
     There really were no Cylon emissaries.  As the Colonials celebrated,
three camouflaged baseships with their fighter squadrons waited by each
human world to unload mass destruction.  In a similar manner, eight
baseships lay just outside scanning range of the Colonial Fleet.  New
technology allowed the baseships and fighters to hide behind camouflaging
energy screens that could not be perceived be electronics.  However, they
could still be seen by the naked human eye.  Small Cylon advance patrols
were out to destroy any Colonial Viper patrols that might be encountered
in order to keep the charade going as long as possible.                  
                  
     The main focal point of the attack would be the battlestar Atlantia
where the Council of Twelve was supposedly in session.  The Imperious
Leader hoped that if nothing else, his forces could destroy the humans'
government heads.  If all went well, there was enough firepower gathered
to destroy the entire Fleet.  Surprise and treachery were on their side. 
The vast majority of the Cylon military had gathered for this sneak
attack, leaving the rest of the Empire badly under protected, but Baltar
had assured the Imperious Leader that he could deliver the humans and get
them to trust him.  It was calculated that based on the human traitor's
information the Cylon losses should be minimal.
     Ten minutes before Cylon and human contact at the Atlantia, a patrol
consisting of two Vipers from the battlestar Acropolis were shot down on
the Colonial Fleet's port flank.  Warning messages were easily jammed
before the fighters were destroyed.  Five minutes before contact, another
Viper patrol encountered a group of Cylon tankers and their escorts on
the Colonial Fleet's starboard flank.  These human fighters were from the
battlestar Galactica.  One was shot down, but the other managed to
escape.  It was pursued and jammed the entire way back to its mother
ship, however the Cylon fighters were not able to destroy it.  The pilot
was Captain Apollo of Blue Squadron, son of the Galactica's infamous
commander, Adama.  The other Viper had held Adama's younger son, Zac.  
     Adama knew something was wrong the instant he found out that
communications from his patrol were being jammed by an outside source. 
President Adar on the Atlantia refused to react to the situation and
insisted that there had to be a logical explanation.  Apollo finally
landed his damaged Viper on the Galactica and reported to Adama that he'd
seen a massive Cylon strike force waiting just beyond the Fleet's
perimeter.  Adama had placed no faith in the peace conference just like
Commander Abel.  He'd ordered a drill for his Viper pilots who were all
seated in their fighters ready to launch at a moment's notice.  Without
consulting President Adar, he launched the 150 fighters of Red and Blue
Squadrons and put his ship on battle alert.  
     Unfortunately, most of the other battlestars were not able to
respond as quickly.  The fighters accompanying the fake emissary baseship
all converged on the Atlantia, lasers blasting away at her armored hull,
while the baseship itself opened up with heavy long-range mega-lasers. 
The baseships and Cylon fighters hiding on the Colonial Fleet's periphery
dropped their camouflaging screens and attacked from all sides,
surrounding the human warships in an unbreachable noose.
     In the same manner, the Cylon ships waiting to attack the Colonies
themselves came in swiftly to rain fiery destruction on the civilian
cities.  Each of the planets had defensive weaponry and planet-based
Viper squadrons, but it would all prove to be insufficient in the face of
such brute force.  As the dreams of peace vanished in an instant, all
Hades broke loose on the sons and daughters of Kobol.

     "I knew it!!" yelled Commander Able from the bridge of the
Prometheus.  "I told the Council we shouldn't trust these bastards or
Count Baltar either.  My Lord, what have we done!?"
     "Transferring Viper control to fighter command," said Demeter
through her headset without waitng for the direct order from her
commander.  "White Squadron you are cleared for launch.  May the Lords of
Kobol be with you."  The viewscreens around the bridge had been switched
from civilian channels to sensor representations around the Fleet.  Cylon
ships seemed to be everywhere!  There were just so many, and Demeter felt
a quiver of fear creep up her spine.  She had been in many battles
before, many of them very bloody, but this was the largest attack she'd
ever seen.  On one of the viewscreens, Viper after Viper was launching
from Alpha deck.  A few were shot down as soon as they cleared the launch
tubes by encroaching Cylon fighters, but most made it through to commence
combat maneuvers. 
     "Red Alert! All crew to battlestations!" said Major Delta, the
Prometheus' chief navigator, over the ship wide intercom.  A red glow
enveloped the thirty bridge crew members as the normal lighting was
replaced by the ominous crimson shadow that usually meant imminent
combat.  Delta activated the fifty computer controlled laser emplacements
situated all over the battlestar.  They immediately began tracking and
firing at the Cylon fighters while ignoring the engaging Vipers.  The
Cylon ships were slower and fairly easy targets, but the Cylons won their
battles not with skill but with sheer numbers, and Delta thought he could
have stepped across the entire Fleet on enemy fighters if he'd wanted to. 
Every one blown to molten fragments had three more to take its place.
     "Black Squadron to battlestations!!  Prepare to launch!!" ordered
Demeter over her headset.  The noise level on the bridge had increased
dramatically as the personnel tried to use all the ship's resources to
fight.  The communications stations were desperately trying to contact
the other battlestars and the Colonies for reports.
     "No, Demeter!!" roared Commander Able as he heard her last order. 
He activated his own headset.  "This is the Commander.  Black Squadron is
not cleared for launch!  I say again, do not launch.  Remain in your
fighters until clearance is given."
     Demeter looked at her superior in astonishment.  "But sir, the Fleet
is being overwhelmed!! We've got to get or fighters out!!"
     "Not now.  It's too late for them to launch at the moment,"
explained Able.  He pointed to a series of large viewscreens nearby on
the right bulkhead.  "Our pilots will be picked off as soon as they leave
the flight deck.  Look what's happening to the Atlantia and the Solaria." 
Both battlestars were clearly fighting for their existence, as hundreds
of elliptical Cylon fighters swarmed around their massive hulls, firing
blue and white bolts of destruction.  Both battlestars were taking dozens
of significant hits, way more than even their thick armored plating could
withstand.  Most importantly,  the Cylons were concentrating their fire
on the launch bays.  The commanders of both warships were foolishly
launching all fighters in an obvious panic, but the Vipers were easy prey
for the mechanized devils.  Vipers exploded one by one in a sickening
tally, killing many experienced pilots who were desperately needed. 
Perhaps one in ten survived.   "I don't want to waste Black Squadron like
that.  The Cylons are no doubt waiting by our own launch bays to do the
same to us.  White Squadron got away in time before the attack commenced
in full, but I will not sacrifice the rest of our fighters."
     Demeter immediately saw the logic.  "Yes sir I understand.  We may
need the reserve."  She switched modes.  "Sir, what about those
baseships?  We have two off our starboard."
     Able had to think only a moment.  He wanted to take the fight right
back to the one-eyed bastards.  They might all die before the day was
finished, but at least they would go down hoborably.  "Helm, lay in a
course for those two baseships.  I want to go right between them firing
everything we've got.  Engage long range mega-lasers.  Try to target the
landing bays if at all possible.  Arm all thermo missiles and launch them
at those two Cylon basestars when we reach optimum range."
     "Yes, sir," replied the nearby gunners in almost perfect unison as
they gazed intently at their targeting scopes and took aim.  As the
Prometheus picked up speed, it answered the baseships' laser fire with
its own, scoring several important hits.  Large fusion propelled guided
missiles erupted from underneath the battlestar's mid section and began
the short traverse to their targets.  A few were blown up by enemy laser
fire along the way, but most hit home with fiery results.
     "Baseships have received heavy structural damage from our barrage,
Commander," said a young women from the sensor station a few centons
later.     
     "Communications, see if you can get another battlestar to join up
with us!" ordered Demeter.  "Maybe we can punch through this trap and
make an escape corridor for the Fleet."
     "Yes," said Able as he griped the bridge railing.  "Perhaps there is
hope for us yet."
     Moments later, the badly burning Atlantia exploded into billions of
sparks, showering the entire battle area with burning debris the spiraled
outward.  Several Vipers and Cylon fighters were destroyed in the
aftermath, as well as two cargo freighters, three tylium tankers, and an
escorting destroyer .

     "Frack! Why won't they let us launch!!" Regan said aloud.  The Viper
control stick rested comfortably in his right hand, and all systems were
at optimal functioning.  From what he'd heard through the helmet's
communication link to the bridge, there was a huge battle going on
outside.  Regan looked to his left and right to see nine more Vipers
sitting in a row, frustratingly inoperable.  He knew that more fighters
from Black Squadron would be waiting to take position in the launch tubes
as soon as his phalanx, the first one, left.  
     Even though he knew it would do no good, Regan thumbed the turbo
button on the joystick for the tenth time.  The Viper didn't move an
inch.  Until the bridge released launch control to the individual pilots,
the fighters would stay locked in position.  He wouldn't be a good
example to the younger pilots if he took off without orders, though. 
Captains can't or shouldn't do that sort of thing, unfortunately.  He
tried to be patient, but his comrades from White Squadron were fighting
and dying out there against the tin cans.  The whole Colonial Fleet could
be in jeopardy.  
     Suddenly, Regan's thoughts turned from duty to family as he
remembered his mother, wife, and three small children at home in Ubris
City on Sagitara.  If the Cylons were sneak attacking the Fleet, the
bastards could very well be doing the same thing to the Colonies.  He'd
been scared for their safety before during a few enemy raids, but never
like this.  If anything happened to them_"Frak!! Frak!! Frak!!  Let me
out there!!"

     "Commander, we're getting calls for help from every Colony," said an
almost frantic communications officer.  "The Cylons are attacking every
major city on each planet."  The young woman's face was a mask or anxiety
as she reported.  "It's like an invasion.  Sir, the destruction is
horrendous." 
     Commander Able was stunned.  "My Lord.  The Cylons are trying to
wipe us all out in one final blow."  His eyes grew wide as his mind
pictured Cylon raiders firing lasers into crowded markets, shopping
districts, and housing complexes.  It just couldn't be happening.  "Any
news from Sagitara?"
     The officer wiped tears from her eyes.  "It's putting up the most
fight of them all apparently.  Three baseships have attacked, but our
people are holding their own right now.  We've received reports that one
was just destroyed in low orbit along with several Cylon troop
transports"
     "Thank the stars," sighed Demeter.  She ignored the battle for a
moment to listen to news from home.  "And the other Colonies?"  
     The communications officer gripped her headset and shook her head
sadly.  Since the beginning of the attack she had been switching rapidly
between narrow-band frequencies, civilian, government, and entertainment
broadcasts to try and get a global estimation of the situation on each
planet.  "Not good at all.  Most of the defenses have fallen.  Billions
are estimated to be dead.  No planet was prepared to take on three
baseships simultaneously, ma'am.  I've also had some unconfirmed reports
that Cylon troops have landed on Arieana."
     "We have to get back to help the Colonies," said Able.  "Helm
increase speed towards those baseships ahead of us.  Gunners, keep a
steady barrage on them.  I don't care if we fire every missile and burn
out every mega-laser doing it, but I want them knocked out of our way." 
The bridge crew redoubled their efforts knowing that the Prometheus
needed to escape the trap to at least try and aid the Colonies.
     "What's our damage status?" asked Demeter as she gripped the
platform's railing following a nearby explosion.  
     Delta was prepared with the information.  "Our hull has been holed
in twelve places and we've lost one mega-laser battery and eight
short-range batteries.  Deck Four, Section Eight is burning but damage
control says they should have it under control soon.  Two raiders rammed
Beta deck with only minor structural damage."
     "And our fighters?"
     "White Squadron down approximately twenty-five percent."
     Commander Able turned to another bank of sensor monitors in order to
survey what had once been the mighty Colonial Fleet.  It was in shambles. 
Ships were burning.  Molten debris and plasma from destroyed vessels
floated everywhere.  He had to sit at his station to keep from falling
down at the shock of it all.  "Where are all the battlestars?  Sensors,
where is the Galactica?"
     "She punched beyond the baseships, sir.  After recalling her fighter
squadrons she went to light speed.  It seems the Galactica is bound for
Caprica," was the hasty reply.
     "At least they got away to go to their home Colony," observed
Demeter as she rerouted some fire to another sector.
     "Yes. Good.  We're doing the same," said Able.  "Recall White
Squadron and any other Viper pilots that need to land.  Tell them to
hurry because we will leave them.  If they are unsuccessful, they are to
land on any other available warship."
     "Aye sir."

     Captain Tamar looped behind a Cylon raider that was making an attack
run on one of the Colonial tylium tankers.  The enemy ship lined up
nicely on her targeting scope and she fired only twenty meters off its
tail.  The red and orange bolts sliced the raider in two, sending debris
spinning in every direction.  Tamar pulled up looking for more enemy
fighters who wanted to prey on the tanker.  That had been her fourth
confirmed kill in the same area.
     "Nice shooting, Captain," said Lt. Kuvin over Tamar's helmet
communicator.  "I just bagged one myself.  It's like a shooting gallery
out here."
     "Just watch your tail, wingman," she replied.  "The tincans
outnumber us and from what I can tell, the Fleet is getting beat up
pretty bad.  I just saw the Rycon go down a centon ago.  Took out one of
those baseships, though."
     Kuvin whistled.  "Add that to the Atlantia."  They both knew that
the situation must be very bad, tactically, if two battlestars had
already been destroyed.  "Holy Frak!! Tamar, I've got two on me out of
nowhere!  I can't jink 'em!" exclaimed Kuvin suddenly.
     "On my way," replied Tamar.  Her wingman had been off the tankers'
port beam while she had been covering the starboard.  She punched in her
turbos and shot underneath the vessel to see Kuvin being pelted by enemy
laser fire.  "I've got one_now!"  The Cylon ship disintegrated nicely as
the other peeled off to make a strafing run on the tanker.  Kuvin looped
around, turbo's flaring, and destroyed it with a well-placed revenge
shot.
     Captain Tamar had ordered White Squadron to stay near the Prometheus
and the supply ships in the near vicinity.  Even though they had launched
before the real battle began, there weren't enough of them to cover the
entire Fleet.  The other battlestars hadn't gotten off many Vipers, and
the Cylons had been pouncing on the launching bays unmercilessly,
shooting down fighter after fighter.  At least Black Squadron hadn't been
ordered to launch to certain death.  She couldn't help the predicaments
of the other warships because she had a responsibility to the Prometheus. 
The other battlestars had to fend for themselves.  
     The Galactica had managed to get both Red and Blue Squadrons up. 
Adama probably had his pilots sitting in their ships just like Commander
Able had done.  Good thing to.  But she'd heard the recall order for Red
and Blue Squadrons from the battle, and the Galactica had made off for
some unknown reason, giving the Cylons a tacticle boost--as though they
needed one anyway.  Who could blame Adama for taking his ship and leaving
in a hurry?  The Colonial Fleet was getting hammered, and someone needed
to outlive this thing to carry on the fight for another day.  The
Colonies could also be under attack and need support.   
     "Attention White Squadron," said a female voice on the squadron's
open command frequency.  "You are ordered back to the Prometheus
immediately.  Please land as soon as possible per Commander Able's
orders.  We will be going to light speed and will not wait.  Vipers from
other battlestars are also welcome to land if needed."
     "What in Hades is going on?" asked Kuvin.  "Where are we going?"  He
sounded angry for being yanked out of the fight.
     "I don't know, maybe to help the Colonies," replied Tamar.  "But
we'd better high tail it back because I don't want to get stranded out
here."
     "Ditto, Captain.  I'm right behind you.  I see some more of our boys
are already on the way home," said Kuvin as he looked at his scanners.
     Both Vipers left the tanker and made a dash to the landing bays of
the Prometheus, which was steadily getting closer and closer to the two
attacking baseships.  Cylon fighters followed, nipping at their heels.

    "Commander Able, I have Commander Puk on a scrambled channel," cried
out communications.
    "On viewscreen at my station," snapped the Commander.  The tired and
bloody face belonging to the commanding officer of the battlestar Solaria
appeared.  Behind him was a raging fire that was being valiantly fought
by a number of the bridge crew.  The man on the viewscreen wasn't known
to be a great warrior, but today he was at least a courageous one, and
he'd always held Able's respect.  "What is your status?"
     "Able, cut the felgerkarb," replied the older man tensely as he
seemed to gasp for breath.  "I outrank you, so listen to me.  We're
coming up hard on your flank.  Get past those two baseships and go to
light speed.  My ship has been hurt badly, but I believe we can take
those Cylon bastards.  I know that the Prometheus hasn't taken as many
hits as we have which makes you better capable of aiding the Colonies. 
Get home as fast as you can."  He coughed violently, and both Able and
Demeter noticed blood in his spittle.  Puk wasn't phased.  "I ask you to
do two things for me."
     "Anything, old friend," said Able.
     "I've ordered my Vipers to land on your ship.  No reason for them to
die with us.  Take good care of my pilots," wheezed Commander Puk.  "And
Able, please try and help Aqauria for us.  We'll never see home again,
but you can be there for us.  Please, I beg of you."
     Able felt tears running down his cheeks.  "You have my word on that. 
We will reach Sagitara and Aquaria.  Thank you, Puk.  May the Lords of
Kobol be with you."  Commander Puk nodded and half-smiled before
terminating the transmission.
     "Helm, slow to let the Solaria pass in front of us," ordered
Demeter.  "Gunners, don't hit the battlestar but keep pounding at the
Cylons.  Commander Puk is going to run interference for us."
     The Solaria and the Prometheus had once been carbon copies of each
other having been sisters in the same class of battlestar.  They were
even commissioned within the same century.  But after fighting the Cylons
over Cimtar, the Solaria was a moving mass of twisted metal and flames. 
Everyone on the bridge of the Prometheus gasped as it sped forward into
view towards the baseships.  Its Alpha deck had been completely severed,
and the entire nose of the vessel forward of the bridge was gone as well. 
Fires could be seen raging in several open hulled places where the
atmosphere was bleeding off into space.  The armored hull was dented in
hundreds of places from Cylon raider suicide impacts and hits from
spinning battle debris.  It was a sad sight--like a wounded, dying animal
that knew it didn't have much longer to live.  Battlestars were designed
to take a lot of punishment, but even such gargantuan vessels had their
tolerance limits.
     "My God," whispered Demeter.  "It all happened so fast.  I had
friends on the Solaria from the Academy."   
     "They're giving their lives for ours, making the ultimate
sacrifice," said Able.  "Let's not waste the opportunity.  Their deaths
will count for something.  Get ready to go to light speed on my mark."
     The Solaria led her sister ship right down the enemies' throats,
firing every functional laser.  Her missiles had been expended long age. 
As Puk predicted, the baseships trained their mega-lasers on the dying
ship that was racing towards them at high speed.  The Prometheus followed
its living shield at a very close distance trailing behind Vipers
struggling to make it into her landing decks.  One by one the fighters
caught up even with Cylon fighters in close pursuit.  The laser turrents
on the battlestar protected the human fighters as best they could,
atomizing raider after raider. 
     The distance closed for four long centons.  Finally, the Solaria was
so close that its surviving crew could have thrown rocks at the twin
baseships.  Instead of moving apart to optimize their firing arcs, the
stupid Cylon commanders moved their vessels closer together to try and
pin the battlestars and double the intensity of the directed laser fire.
     "Take us up and over, helm," ordered Able.  "Let's give the Solaria
a wide berth to do her job."
     The Prometheus' angle of acceleration took it above her charging
sister and the two baseships, providing an avenue to open space and
freedom.  The Cylon fortresses tried to redirect their fire and pursue,
but the Solaria prevented it, blocking their path and absorbing all their
laser fire up close into her belly region.  The distraction couldn't last
forever.    
     As the Prometheus passed and prepared to go to light speed,
Commander Able took one last look at what had once been the proud
Colonial Fleet, a force to be reckoned with by any power.  He gazed with
heart broken sadness at a viewscreen showing what was left of his
comrades still battling in the orbit of Cimtar.  In a way, he felt like a
coward, like he was running out on his brothers and sisters when his ship
still had a lot of fight left in it.  They couldn't save the Fleet, could
they?  The damage was too much and the enemy too numerous.  
     The battlestars Pacifica, Olympia, and Acropolis along with some
smaller warships and support vessels were clustered together in a
defensive ring surrounded by hordes of Cylon fighters.  A few Viper
fighters were interspersed in the melee, trying to protect the home ships
as best they could.  Able had seen the Atlantia and Rycon explode, and
his bridge staff had also informed him that the battlestars Bellerophon,
Cerberus, and Columbia had met similar fates.  This didn't even include
all the Viper fighters, troop transports, destroyers, cargo ships, and
tankers destroyed.  The loss of life here was horrendous, but the loss of
life in the Colonies would be even more so, which is why he had to leave.

     Colonel Demeter joined Commander Able to look at the viewscreen for
a moment.  "Sir, we counted nine attacking baseships in the beginning of
the battle.  The Solaria just destructed but took the two we were
fighting with her.  Our scanners read only five out there engaging the
fleet.  Perhaps all isn't lost.  Maybe_"
     Able admired his executive's optimism, and he tried to correct her
without sounding too stern.  "I don't think so, Colonel.  Those three
battlestars are very badly damaged.  It's a wonder they're still capable
of fighting at all.  Unfortunately, their time is limited unless they can
escape as we did.  The Imperious Leader is no fool and will have
reinforcements moving in soon.  This is too big of a gamble for him not
to since he's committed so much of his empire's fleet."  He sighed and
whispered, "I'm afraid we've seen the end of the Colonial Fleet, at least
for now."
     Demeter didn't even try to hide her tears, and she wept softly. 
Other crewmembers followed suit, and the bridge gradually became very
quiet, having heard Commander Able's commentary.  There was hollow joy at
escaping the slaughter because in effect their way of military life had
just come to an abrupt halt.  But what of the Colonies?  What of
Sagitara?
     "Helm, take us to light speed.  Get us home as fast as you can,"
ordered Able.

     The descendents of Kobol had settled in an area of space that they
called the Cyrannus Sector.  The twelve Colonies were founded
approximately three thousand yahrens ago in a portion of space blessed
with habitable planets in close proximity.  The Colonies were named
Aeriana, Aquaria, Canceria, Caprica, Gemoni, Leosia, Libra, Pisceria,
Sagitara, Scorpia, Taura, and Virgo.  Eight neighboring star systems
composed the Cyrannus Sector.  Sagitara and Aquaria shared a star system
as did Canceria and Libra.  Taura, Gemoni, and Virgo all shared a very
large star system along with twelve other uninhabitable worlds.  Aeriana,
Caprica, Leosia, Pisceria, and Virgo were each the only inhabitable world
in their respective star systems.  
     The Colonies had been united under one leadership, the Council of
Twelve, for two thousand yahrens of their existence.  Each world was
unique in its own way with different people groups, customs, and
languages.  But, all the inhabitants spoke Standard to ease communication
and trade.  It was also the official language used in the Colonial Fleet,
although every crewmember could also speak at least one dialect from his
or her home planet.  The Colonies had many more things in common than
they had differences, which was why they bonded so well to form a united
government against the Cylons.  
     Using the new camouflaging technology, the Cylon Imperious Leader
placed three baseships in the Cyrannus Sector per colony world for a
total of thirty-six.  The Cyrannus Sector was surrounded by a number of
other star systems with human outposts of various function.  Ten
additional baseships were dispatched to take care of those settlements as
well.  He had warships to spare, and they were so easy to manufacture
that numbers were not a concern to him, only the complete annihilation of
the human homeworlds.  His orders were simple: destroy everything
possible.  The attack on the Colonial Fleet had actually been a great
diversionary tactic to keep the battlestars busy.  The Imperious Leader
never planned on actually destroying the Fleet, only incapacitating it. 
The traitorous Baltar would call such a victory a stroke of enormous good
fortune.            
     The Colonies were by no means defenseless.  Each had ground based
laser and missile defense systems, orbiting defense platforms, and
several Viper squadrons.  After a thousands yahrens of war the humans
knew how to protect themselves.  But, all the large warships had met
above Cimtar, leaving the Colonies wide open to attack and invasion. 
Plus, the military and civilian authorities were not on a war footing
since they believed in the Peace Conference.  For the most part, crews
and soldiers were not at a high state of readiness, and the appearance of
basestars in the upper atmospheres of the planets sent everyone into a
mass panic.  Organization and reason dissipated as fast as the feelings
of relief and good will.  The chains of command were inefficient to
handle the new threats.
     The Colonies of Sagitara and Aquaria located in the Uoe Star System
were the exceptions the all this.  The populations on the two planets
were practical people and trusted only what they knew to be true.  To
them, the peace process had happened way too fast, and the Cylons had
presented themselves as almost too repentant.  The Cylons had a huge war
machine and had been aggressive for a thousand yahrens.  They were
supposed to have changed in the span of a few short sectons?  The
Colonists on Sagitara and Aquaria said 'no', unlike their brothers and
sisters on the other planets.   Although some chose to celebrate the
occasion, there were no gala extravaganzas or lush holidays.  They were
distrustful and vigilant.  Sagitarans and Aquarians were surprised just
like the other Colonials when the baseships disengaged their camouflaging
screens, but they were prepared.
     The other ten Colonies suffered terribly.  In the best of
circumstances, planetary defenses could definitely take on one baseship
and possibly two, but not three.  Nine hundred Cylon raiders split into
flights of four in each atmosphere to better strike at more targets.  The
Cylons had timed their surprise attack perfectly, knowing that billions
of humans would be congregating in large areas to watch the Peace
Ceremony, thus providing easy targets for mass destruction.  The
baseships themselves were responsible for attacking the large urban areas
while the fighters were to destroy the mid to smaller urban areas spread
throughout each colony.  Mega-lasers from the heavens rained down
continuously, destroying entire city blocks at a time with every hit and
killing thousands of people.  The cyborgs worked efficiently and smoothly
in their destruction, careful not to leave any structures standing.
     The Colonials tried to fight back as best they could, launching
missiles, sending up Viper squadrons, and firing their own mega-lasers.  
Some Colonies put up a very good fight against the baseship, each
destroying at least one before the defenders were exterminated or the
weapons exhausted.   Gemoni, Pisceria, and Caprica managed to each
destroy two of their attackers plus hundreds of Cylon fighters. The
others, except for Sagitara and Aquaria, only destroyed one.  Sagitara
and Aquaria each took out all three of the baseships menacing their
planets.  Not only were they the most well armed Colonies, but they were
also the most aggressive militarily.  
     Aquaria didn't suffer as much damage because it was almost
completely a water planet, with many of its cities located underwater out
of range of mega-lasers or Cylon raiders.  The surface cities were
attacked very severely, but many of their inhabitants were able to escape
below the waves in submersible craft.  Her strong lines of orbiting
defense outposts pulverized the baseships.  Sagitara had more Viper
squadrons than any of the other Colonies, and most of them managed to get
off the ground to fight the Cylon raiders, even though they were
outnumbered.  The skies were filled with looping fighters performing
dances of destruction.  Both planets in the Uoe Sytem were still badly
mauled in the attack, but at least it cost the Cylon Empire six of their
enormous war wagons and  eighteen hundred fighters.      
     The other Colonies were not so fortunate.  The Cylon raiders were
relentless in their attacks.  Only Caprica experienced a brief reprieve
when the battlestar Galactica made orbit.  The remaining baseship above
Caprica thought it prudent to retreat and wait for reinforcements since
the humans had no hope of recovering.  All the cities of Libra and
Scorpia were completely destroyed.  Since Taura was a water planet
similar to Aquaria, many of its citizens had fled to underwater cities,
as well.  Sadly, there wasn't enough transportation to move the people to
safety and the underwater cities weren't as big as those of Aquaria. 
Hundreds of millions died trying to submerge. 
     All the surviving baseships withdrew in an orderly fashion from the
Cyrannus Sector at a pre-determined time.  The onslaught suddenly
stopped, leaving the planets strangely silent, except for the raging
fires and screams of the wounded.  The surviving Colonials wondered what
would happen next.  Most of the long-range sensor stations had been
destroyed, so there was no way to know what else was waiting in space. 
All the people were wondering what had happened to the Colonial Fleet,
and why it hadn't arrived to save them as in the past.  Something
terrible must have happened they rationalized.
     Withdrawing the surviving seventeen baseship just as the Colonies
were crumbling was not a tactical error on the part of the Cylon
Imperious Leader.  Rather, it was the second part of his master plan. 
Fleets of Cylon troop transports had been placed just beyond Colonial
scanning range before the initiation of the sneak attack.  They were not
equipped with the new camouflaging technology, were lightly armed, and
had very little armor for protection.  The Imperious Leader didn't have
enough baseships left to guard them.  The retreating baseships left to
rendezvous with the troop transports and bring them directly to the
Colonies for an invasion.  
     Twenty transports had been allocated for each colony and twenty more
for the human outposts for a total of two hundred and sixty vessels, the
largest Cylon invasion fleet in their history.  Each vessel carried six
thousand centurion soldiers--one hundred and twenty thousand troops per
homeworld plus sixty thousand for the outposts equaling over 1.5 million
troops in all.  
     The only questionable part about the Imperious Leader's plan
concerned the transports themselves.  Because they were so lightly armed,
a single battlestar could wreak havoc on their number if discovered.  He
had predicted that at least some of the human warships would survive and
head for their homeworlds as fast as possible.  The attacking baseships,
therefore, would have to act as escorts for the transports to the
Colonies and guardians during the invasions.  It would take the baseships
several centars to meet their charges and return, giving the humans
temporary relief.  
     The Imperious Leader and his advisors believed the retreat of the
baseships stars would not have serious ramifications on his plan and that
the effects would be negligible.  The Colonies woulde destroyed and the
human race defeated.  All that would be left was sweeping the ground for
what the fighters and mega-lasers missed.  Such ground occupations and
mass exterminations could take a great deal of time, but the Imperious
Leader believed himself to be very patient when the final defeat of his
enemies was in sight.

     The battlestar Prometheus entered the orbit of Sagitara with no pomp
and circumstance.  Very few on the planet even noted its arrival due to
all the destruction.  Little was left of the orbiting defense platforms
and spacedocks, only thousands of kilometers of floating debris that
would eventually burn up in the planet's atmosphere.  On the bridge of
the mighty warship, there was an unsettling calm among the crew.
     "Demeter, Delta--any communication with us at all from the surface?"
asked Able in an almost pleading voice.  
     "Surprisingly, yes, Commander," replied Delta.  "Governor Oram from
North Continent.  He wants to speak with you and Colonel Demeter as soon
as possible in person."
     Able nodded.  "Locate his position.  Tell him we'll be leaving
momentarily to meet him on the ground.  I've got to go down and see it
all for myself."
     "He acknowledges, sir."
     "Anything on long range scanners?" asked Demeter.
     "No Cylon ships detected," reported an operator from the bottom
level of the bridge.  "We are picking up quite a bit of large debris from
the battle that could obscure our sensors."
     "Keep a vigilant eye on it," said Able.  "Have Black Squadron
standing by in their Vipers just in case.  Major Delta, you have to con. 
Colonel, with me."
     Commander Able almost ran into Captain Regan as he was exiting the
raised bridge dais.  "Son!  I just ordered your squadron to standby alert
in their fighters in case the Cylons return."
     Regan was visibly upset.  "Father, I know you're going down to
Sagitara.  I want to go too.  You've got to have an escort.  You may be
the only surviving battlestar commander.  There could be rioters, mobs_" 
His eyes pleaded for permission as tears rushed down his cheeks. 
"Please, father."
     Able knew that Colonel Demeter's soldiers could protect him from
just about anything, but he knew why his son really wanted to go.  
Everyone on board had no doubt lost at least one person close to him or
her during the battle.  "I'll get a fighter escort from White Squadron,
so don't worry about me.  You get Tojay, and scout for the ship.  Get
close to the surface, land if you can."  He grasped his eldest son's
shoulder and squeezed.  "God speed."
     Regan nodded and ran off the bridge ahead of Commander Able and
Demeter.  He had to give temporary command of Black Squadron to Micha and
get to a Viper as fast as possible.  His father knew he was headed
straight to what had once been the metropolis of Ubris City.

     "Transferring launch control to Recon Vipers One and Two.  Launch
when ready," said the flight controller through Regan's helmet-com.  He
heard the familiar whine of his fighters three engines.  Everything was a
go.  He pressed the turbo button on his joystick and was instantly flung
back into his acceleration seat as the fighter was propelled through the
narrow tube that led to outer space.  Four microns later, Regan was free.
     "I'm right here with you, old buddy," said Tojay.
     Reagan looked to his left and saw that his wingman had launched just
as he had and was now flying in a matching formation.  "Let's get to
Ubris City as fast as possible.  Watch out for all that space junk,
though."
     "You lead, Captain.  Prometheus, we are entering the atmosphere. 
Ground Control has made no attempt to contact us," reported Tojay.
     "Acknowledged, Recon Viper Two," replied the same flight controller. 
"Proceed with caution." 
     The descent wasn't as smooth as it could have been due to the steep
angle that the Vipers used to enter Sagitara's stratosphere.  A rosy glow
enveloped each cockpit as the controls began to buck.  Normal descents
took longer but were much easier on the equipment and pilots.  The entire
ride took less then three centons and then the Vipers were soaring among
white puffy clouds.  It was daytime on the side of the planet occupied by
North Continent, so the sun was up with plenty of visibility.  
      Regan and Tojay knew exactly where to go.  They'd landed at the
same military field for yahrens.  Tojay had been coming home with his
good friend since their days at the Academy as young, inexperienced
warriors.  Cylons had killed Tojay's parents on an agricultural outpost
while he was a first yahren cadet on Sagitara.  Regan, then a third
yahren cadet, had befriended Tojay and invited him to his home.  It had
become a regular occurrence over the yahrens, so much so that Tojay was
considered a member of the family.  He was just as worried as Regan.
     "It looks like the field was destroyed along with every thing else
on that side of the city," said Regan, sickened by the destruction. 
"Forget about landing there."  Thousands of smoke plumes rose above
ground fires and smoldering ashes that had once been businesses, homes,
hospitals, schools, and roads.  It did indeed look a war zone, but he had
to block all that out of his mind for the moment.  The warriors cruised
to a suburban area of the sprawling metropolis which still contined
standing structures.  The area was all too familiar.  
     "I can see the house from here, or what's left of it," said Tojay. 
"I think we can put down in the street out front."
     Regan didn't reply, but he applied his braking thrusters and took
his fighter towards the ground.  The sleek machine of war settled gently
on its landing skids in the neighborhood that had been part of an
affluent suburb of Ubris City, a neighborhood of peace and tranquility. 
His wife had always wanted to move back into the city to be closer to the
restaurants and shopping centers, but both he and his father had decided
against it.  He was glad more than ever of that now.  The neighborhood
had been hit by strafing fire, but it was much better off than Ubris City
itself, where hardly a living thing moved.
     Tojay's fighter set down a few meters from the front door of the
caved in two-story dwelling.  He didn't wait for his canopy to completely
rise before rushing out of the cockpit, yelling the names of Regan's
children.  "Tojay!! Bella!! Syron!!"  He dashed through the front door
once he saw that it wasn't going to collapse above his head.
     Regan was just a few steps behind his best friend, and he didn't
like what he saw.  It was too quiet.  "Mother!!  Arriana!!"
     "God, Regan!!  We're in here!!"  screamed a hysteric female voice
from the basement door in the kitchen.  Both warriors stopped to push
some fallen debris out of the way of the solid wooden door before running
down the steps towards the voice.  The basement of the house served as a
storage/laundry area and was by far the most well protected part of the
dwelling.  It was the obvious place to go for refuge.
     Captain Regan scanned the dim room and suddenly felt arms wrap
around his waist and lips brush his own.  He reciprocated as he smelled
the familiar perfume of his beloved wife, Arriana.  He squeezed her
trembling body to his and inhaled deeply with his eyes shut.  Regan
trembled too from relief, even if it could only be short-lived.  He
stepped back to look at his wife.  She was wearing a dirtied yellow dress
and her long auburn hair was out of place.  Mud covered her forehead and
there were cuts on both of her exposed arms.  She'd never looked more
beautiful.
     "I_we thought you were dead," exclaimed Arriana as she started to
cry softly.  "The Cylons destroyed everything.  What about the fleet?"
     "What about my husband?" interjected an older female voice with
authority.
     Regan turned to see his mother, Commander Able's wife standing
nearby looking just as dirtied as her daughter-in-law.  She cradled a
laser rifle in her arms like a child.  Regan rushed to her for an
embrace.  "He is well.  The Prometheus survived and is orbiting Sagitara. 
He's meeting with the Governor of North Continent right now."
     Abella shuddered at the good news of her husband and began to sob. 
"What about those gall mogging Cylons?"
     "Sagitara destroyed three baseships in orbit along with all their
raiders," replied Tojay.  "Aquaria did just as well.  There are no Cylon
ships in the system right now.  But all the defenses were wrecked in the
process."  Arriana went to hug her husband's best friend tightly.  "Where
are the kids?" Tojay asked.
     "In the back room with some of our neighbors," said Abella. 
"They're fine, but they haven't stopped crying for their daddy."  She and
Arriana had come forward armed with guns when they heard ships landing
and voices from above in the main part of the house.  They'd been
determined to defend themselves and the others at all cost.
     Regan released his mother and jogged to the back storage room to see
his three children.
     "We're not out of danger yet are we Tojay?" asked Arriana.
     The warrior shook his head slowly in agreement.  "After such a large
scale attack the Cylons are sure to follow up with something.  We don't
know just what, but they wouldn't leave an opportunity like this alone."
     "The fleet?" asked Abella as she rubbed Tojay's shoulder.
     "The Atlantia was destroyed along with the Council of Twelve.  Most
of the other battlestars and support vessels, too.  The Cylons trapped us
in a noose and were picking our ships off one by one.  The Galactica
managed to escape, probably to Caprica.  When the Prometheus finally
broke through, there were just three battlestars still fighting it out. 
We had to leave and get here," explained the warrior who was close to
tears himself.
     "Any word from the other Colonies?" Arriana asked.
     "Yeah, some.  And it doesn't look good."  Tojay pulled away from
Regan's wife.  "Listen, we were supposed to fly recon for the Prometheus,
so I'm going back up to look around.  Tell Regan I'll do it myself so he
can stay here with you.  Once people see a Colonial Viper parked in the
front street, there are going to be a lot of folks coming around the
house with questions.  They may not be so friendly, either."  He sprinted
back up the basement steps to his Viper.

     Commander Able's shuttle and two Viper escorts landed at the
computer coordinates broadcast by Governor Oram.  It was an old starship
landing field several kilometers outside the limits of the destroyed
Ubris City.  It had been abandoned for at least the last twenty yahrens
and was mostly ignored by the general population.  But, several
structures still stood, having obviously been avoided by the Cylons.  A
great expanse of tarmac was still there, overcome with weeds.
     Able and Demeter left the shuttle as soon as it powered down,
confused as to why they'd been led to the old field.  There seemed to be
nothing and no one of substance around.  They could smell the smoke of
destruction from the capitol city even this far out.  Twelve heavily
armed soldiers with black helmets and matching armor took positions
around the leadership of the Prometheus to protect them from any danger. 
They were ready to kill anything on site if it looked the least bit
threatening.  Captain Tamar and Lieutenant Kuvin exited the cockpits of
their Vipers, drew their sidearms, and went to Commander Able's side. 
Everyone was looking for a sign.
     "Commander!!" called a lone voice from the base of the abandoned
control tower.  "Over here."  The figure who stepped forward out of the
shadows was Governor Oram, one of the highest-ranking political figures
on the planet.  The battlestar's soldiers quickly turned their attention
and laser rifles to cover the man, just in case.  They would not be
surprised again.  Able walked out of the protective circle followed
closely by Demeter who also had a hand on her holstered laser gun.
     "Oram, by God you did survive!" exclaimed Able.  He half ran to meet
the leader of the largest continent on the planet.
     Oram was the same age as Able, but political life had led him to a
less than healthy lifestyle that resulted in several more pounds around
his waist.  The two men had been friends for many yahrens but hadn't seen
each other as often as they'd have liked due to the requirements of ship
and office.  Oram was dressed not in expensive clothes but in the
off-duty uniform of a soldier.  He smiled warmly.  "We must get below to
talk.  My staff and I are anxious to hear all the news you have to give."
     Able nodded, wondering where they were to go in such an obscure
place.  But, he followed the Governor inside the control tower, trailed
by his armed entourage.  The shuttle pilots and a dozen more soldiers
stayed put in case a hasty lift off was needed.  Everyone descended three
staircases to a dark subbasement lit with only a few elevctric glowrods.
     "In here everyone," said Oram.  "Trust me.  It's not what it seems." 
He grabbed the edge of a large shelf and pulled strongly.  The shelf was
mounted on a hinged door that hadn't looked out of the ordinary a moment
before.  It was just a shelf before Oram tugged on it.  The wide door
opened revealing a well-lighted and very clean corridor on the other side
along with half a dozen more soldiers dressed identical to those in
Demeter's detachment.  
     "What is this?" asked Able in surprise as he followed Oram.
     The Governor replied, "A secret command post for this part of the
continent.  When the attack began and the main above ground facilities
were bombed by mega-lasers, we moved down here.  We were safe from air
attack and very inconspicuous to the Cylons.  This has been here longer
than you or I have been alive.  There are a few others across the
continent,too."
     "I never knew," stated Able.
     "Good.  You weren't supposed to.  In here."  Oram entered what
seemed to be a large briefing room with enourmous viewscreens covering
the far wall and a wooden table in the center with many cushioned swivel
chairs.  Along the way, the officers from the Prometheus passed several
military personnel obviously intent on performing urgent tasks.  They
didn't even excuse themselves when they bumped into each other.  Able
sensed, for the first time that there might be some semblance of control. 
The humans would need that.
     "Sit and fill me in on the Fleet," ordered Oram.  Able had never
known the man to step outside his political capabilities, but now he was
commanding like a soldier--a leader of soldiers.  "We've been hearing
from the other Colonies, but not from the battlestars."
     Commander Able seated himself while Colonel Demeter motioned for her
troops to wait outside in the hallway.  Tamar and Kuvin were allowed to
stay and listen.  For the next fifteen centons they all informed Governor
Oram of the fate of the Colonial Fleet.  The information was beyond
tragic, but the political leader seemed to take it in stride.  He said
not a word, only nodding and tapping his fingers across his mouth as he
absorbed every word.
     At the conclusion of the report, Oram said, "It's more grave than I
thought with the Fleet destroyed."  He sighed and stood to face the
viewscreens that displayed scenes of chaos from all over the planet.  "I
am the senior political and military leader left alive on Sagitara.  As
you deduced, we barely defeated the Cylon forces, but we were much more
fortunate than many of the other Colonies.  I fear we are about to be
invaded.  That's the only explanation we can come up with as to why those
baseships pulled out early.  Cylon troop ships are traditionally unarmed
and need escorting."
     Able looked at Demeter.  "We concur, sir.  The Prometheus is battle
worthy, and we have two full squadrons of fighters.  We can set up an
ambush around Thobes and Thobus to attack those vulnerable transports. 
The moons will conceal our position and with any luck we can get them
before they land..."
     "And sacrifice your ship and all your fighters in the process,"
finished Oram.  "No.  That's not what I want you to do."
     Able was stunned.  He couldn't imagine not defending his people
against invaders.  "But Governor_"
     "Commander, I am your superior and you will listen to me," said Oram
harshly.  "Your ship is too precious to waste like that.  Besides,
Sagitara and Aquaria are the most heavily armed Colonies, and we still
have some fight left in us yet.  We purposely held off using our moon
defenses so as not to attract Cylon fighters their way.  We have plenty
of missiles and mega-lasers to repel a second attack, plus a half dozen
Viper squadrons.  We will survive--we always have.  The Cylons transports
will be ambushed in this star system but not by the Prometheus."
     "What are we to do, then?" asked Demeter out of turn, although Able
was about to ask the same question.
     "The Galactica put out a sector wide call for all light-speed
vessels to rendezvous at Caprica filled with as much fuel, food, and
people as possible," said Oram.  "Perhaps you didn't receive the
transmission because of all the Cylon jamming outside the Cyrannus
Sector--it doesn't matter.  Commander Adama plans to escape to deep space
away from the attacking baseships.  He'll make it too because the
Colonies themselves will be a much more tempting target than one
battlestar and a few civilian-filled vessels."
     "How can he run_?" started Able.
     "Don't think of it as running--think of it as survival!!  The
Prometheus will do the same thing except on a different course.  We
divide ourselves to split the remaining Cylon forces," said Oram.  "Adama
is doing the right thing.  I'm sure he plans on returning after the
Colonies make their second stand and we take out more of the bastards. 
The Cylons must be throwing practically their entire fleet at us, so they
must be short on resources by now.  That will also make them conservative
with what they have.  If you get away in time, I predict that you will
not be pursued.  They saw you escape Cimtar, but they don't knew your
present location, and we can use that to our advantage."
     Commander Able folded his hands on the tabletop and forced himself
to calm down.  "What are your orders, sir?"
     Oram nodded, glad that his logic had broken through.  "We
undoubtedly don't have a great deal of time here, perhaps just a few
centars.  Beginning immediately, I want your ship loaded with as much
food, water, and fuel as it can carry.  There are several light-speed
capable ships gathered in Aquaria's orbit that are currently being
stocked in a similar manner.  I purposely held them back from joining the
Galactica in order to send them in another direction.  The Prometheus is
to go beyond our furthest outposts and make for deep space.  Run for as
long as it takes before you stop to rest, whether it's one sectar or one
yahren--it doesn't matter.  What does matter is your survival.  The
Colonies may not make it through the Cylon invasion, and you and the
Galactica group may be all the human race has left.  I wish we could all
go but that is simply impossible."     
     Both Able and Demeter closed their eyes and shuddered at the
thought.  Captain Tamar reached over and held Kuvin's hand tightly.  The
survival of the entire race could depend on them and how well they out
ran and out fought the Cylons.
     "At some point, you are to return to the Colonies," explained Oram. 
"Hopefully, we will have beaten the tincans off and be rebuilding by
then.  The Prometheus will be the core of a new fleet of battlestars. 
If, however, by some chance you discover that the Colonies did not
survive, run like hell and don't look back.  I can't be clearer on this. 
The surviving Governors on Aquaria are in complete agreement with me."
     "Should we try to take some of the civilians with us?' asked
Demeter.  "In case_"  She couldn't finish her thought aloud.
     Oram nodded.  "The ships around Aquaria are loading some people too,
but we've got to keep this quiet.  We don't want your supplies to be
over-taxed.  Also, we could be looking at a mass panic if the general
population knew the Prometheus had been ordered to leave Sagitara with
another impending attack.  If the Cylons interrogated anyone, they would
surely obtain the information as well.  The fewer people that know about
this the better." 
     Able was glad that some civilians from Aquaria would be going along
as well.  At least he could partly keep his promise to Commander Puk. 
"Sir, the people in this room have family members_"
     "Yes, yes," said the Governor.  "If they can be found send shuttles
to quietly pick them up along with any supplies you come across."
     A communicator on Demeter's belt beeped loudly, startling everyone
and demanding immediate attention.  She brought it up close to her mouth
knowing it would be the shuttle pilot.  "This is the Colonel."
     "Colonel, we just received a message from the Prometheus.  Long
range Viper Recon patrols have picked up two massive Cylon forces of
transports and baseships headed for Aquaria and Sagitara."
     "Estimated time until arrival?"
     "The transports are much slower than the base ships, ma'am, but we
could be within range of another fighter attack in six centars," said the
pilot.
     "Acknowledged.  Prepare for lift up.  We'll be up shortly," said
Demeter in closing.
     Oram held up three fingers to Able.  "I want you out of orbit in
three centars at the most.  That should give you plenty of time to get
away since the Cylon raiders have such limited fuel carrying
capabilities.  I'm also ordering the 58th Viper Squadron from Sagitara to
go along with you as extra back up.  They can be berthed on some of the
other ships, and that will give you close to two hundred fighters at your
disposal.  If the Cylons pursue you God knows you'll need them."  Oram
stood suddenly indicating that the meeting was finished.  They all had a
lot to do in a very short timespan.  As he and Commander Able shook
hands, the Governor said, "Good luck to you and God speed."

     "OK, Tojay!" yelled Regan, "we're ready to button up here! 
Everyone's on board!"  He swiveled at the shuttle's hatch to take one
final look at the house he'd lived in since birth.  Since the attack, it
only faintly resembled the place of warmth, security, and love that he'd
grown attached to.  Even though they were slated to return to the
Colonies eventually, Regan had a feeling that he would never see the
house again.  He entered the shuttle to let the hatch close and
pressurize the compartment.  Home was where your heart was he thought,
even if it was a battlestar orbiting miles above.
     Lt. Tojay was seated in the pilot's chair of the shuttle.  He
activated the engines and hit the compartment wide intercom.  "Everybody
hang on.  Since we're in a hurry, this isn't going to be the smoothest
shuttle ride of your lives.  We should land on the Prometheus in
approximately twenty centons."
     The Colonial issue standard shuttle had approached its safety
tolerance for weight causing the initial take off to be bumpy as the
pilot sought to maintain balance and thrust simultaneously.  It lifted
out of the suburban neighborhood beside Ubris City and headed skyward at
a dizzying speed followed by a lone Viper escort.  On board the shuttle
were thirty civilian men, women, and children--neighbors of Abella and
Arriana who had survived the Cylon attack plus Tojay, Regan, and his
family.  The shuttle's rear storage compartment normally held an all
terrain RAM, but it had been deposited on the flight deck of the
battlestar to make more room.  Food and water from the neighborhood had
been crammed into the compartment so that not another box , barrell, or
container would fit.  It had been fortunate that a large market nearby
had survived the attack.  There was no one to care if anything was taken. 

     The center portion of the passenger compartment held some personal
baggage and other supplies and equipment from private homes that could be
put to some use.  The colonists had wanted to bring a great deal of
belongings along, and Tojay and Regan had to forcefully convince them
that it just wasn't possible.  They should be glad just to be alive. 
Each was allotted one bag of garments and small affects.  Arriana had had
to leave behind most of baby Syron's things, much to her displeasure.    
  
     Regan sat down into an empty seat by his eldest son, Tojay.  The boy
had been named for his father's best friend and wingman and considered
the other man a surrogate uncle.  Young Tojay had his mother's straight
auburn hair and blue eyes, and he'd just turned five yahrens old.  Tojay
left his own seat and crawled up into the safety of his father's lap. 
Regan wrapped his arms around the boy and held him tightly, pressing his
lips into the back of his head.
     "Daddy, are we really going to live on your ship?" the child asked
with wonder.
     Regan had to smile.  This was probably just a big adventure for the
children who were lucky enough to be leaving the Colonies.  They couldn't
comprehend the seriousness of the situation yet, and in a way he envied
them.  "You bet we are.  You're gonna love it."  Regan tried to sound
hopeful.
     Little Tojay wasn't satisfied yet.  "Will I get to live with you in
the warrior barracks like you talk about?  Will Mommy?"
     "No, we're going to have our own little part of the ship for our
family.  You, me, Mommy, Bella, and Syron," explained the father.
     "What about Grandma and Grandpa?"
     "They'll have their own place, too.  Now why don't you lean back
here and try to rest.  We'll have a lot to do when we land on the
Prometheus," said Regan.  He pushed the boy's head against his uniform
and patted him lovingly.  Nearby, Abella rocked a fussing baby Syron, and
Arriana cradled his older sister Bella in her arms.
     The people on the shuttle looked exhausted and were all familiar to
Regan since he'd lived beside them for yahrens growing up.  There were
some light injuries among them but nothing serious.  The Prometheus
arrived too late to save those seriously hurt, and her Sickbay couldn't
care for the entire planet.  All the battlestar's shuttles were picking
up people, mostly family members of the crew, and scrounging around for
food and water.  Governor Oram had fuel carriers from Sagitara topping
off the warship's fuel tanks from underground tylium reserves.  The
battlestar was going to be packed with people and supplies after it was
all over, but would they be able to sneak away without the Cylons
noticing?

     Commander Able gripped the guard-rail of the raised bridge dais in
worry.  The scanners still had the Cylons invasion fleets slowly closing
in on Sagitara and Aquaria, and he couldn't even bring himself to think
about the other ten planets and what they were about to go through.  A
large viewscreen by the main helm station had been programmed to display
a countdown to Governor Oram's projected departure time, and it currently
read forty-seven centons.  Gods, it was so insane!!  How was he supposed
to lead these ships with only a single warship for protection?
     "Commander," said Demeter.  "Shuttles Five and One have just landed. 
Shuttles Two, Three, and Six are each approximately ten centons out. 
Shuttles Four, Seven, and Eight are requesting permission to launch for
another load."
     Able glared at the count down for the hundredth time.  Could they
make it back before the fleet needed to pull out?  Twenty centons down,
twenty centons to make it back, that left less than seven to land and
load.  It was risky, but so was everything else they'd been doing. 
"Permission granted, but tell them to make their best speed.  The pilots
know our time schedule, and we will leave without them if they are not in
one of the landing bays.  We need to get as many of our people up here as
possible."
     Colonel Demeter nodded and turned her back to speak softly to the
waiting shuttle pilots through her headset.
     "What's our fuel status?" barked Able.
     "The last two tylium orbiters just left Alpha Bay, sir," replied a
youthful engineering deck officer.  "We are at 100% capacity."
     "And how go the repairs from the battle?"
     "The repair crews are just patching up the small stuff now," said
the deck officer.  "Everything else is operational including all laser
weapons and sensors.  All the expended missiles have been replaced."
     Commander Able nodded, satisfied.  He saw his son join him on the
bridge, and smiled.  "Glad you're back aboard."
     "Mother is in Alpha Bay helping to organize the civilians,"
whispered Regan into his father's ear.  "She said she loves you and can't
wait to see you."  If only all the military officers had been so
fortunate as to have their loved ones along.  It was just like his
beloved wife to help others in their times of need without thought to
herself.  Able nodded and said in a normal tone of voice, "Captain,
report on the status of the 58th Viper Squadron."
     "Half have landed in Beta Bay, but it can't accommodate any more
ships," replied the Prometheus' Fighter Strike Leader.  "The other half
are orbiting with us at reduced operations to conserve fuel.  They'll be
able to land on the ships from Aquaria when they meet up with us."
     Able nodded.  "Colonel, how close are those vessels from Aquaria?"
     "We have them within visual range now, and the ship masters are
starting to ask for directions," replied the exec.  "We'll need to
organize them somehow."
     "Captain Regan, call Lt. Tojay to the bridge," ordered Able.  "I
want the two of you to talk to those ship masters and figure out a
staging method so that we're all close together to afford protection but
not too close so as to cause collisions.  I don't want the ships spread
apart at the normal travelling interval, either.  We have to present as
small a signature as possible to the Cylons as we leave orbit."
     "Understood, Father."  The warrior rushed to the communications
board to begin.

     The vessels from Aquaria that Governor Oram spoke of finally arrived
at the Prometheus.  Thirty-five vessels of assorted sizes and functions
took stations at the coordinates provided by either Captain Regan or Lt.
Tojay, quickly forming some semblance of a fleet.  The vessels were all
registered to Aquarian or Sagitaran companies and civilians.  None were
military.  The other colonies were not represented at all, unfortunately,
because of the need for secrecy.  
     There were four very large Agro ships already sprouting crops and
eight gigantic tylium tankers, each with three times the hull armor of
the Prometheus.  The Colonials had learned long ago that tankers made
tempting targets to Cylon raiders, and so they had to be very well
protected.  They were also loaded to capacity with fuel.  Three luxury
liners were along and two livestock vessels with herds of bovines for
later consumption.  The rest of the vessels were cargo ships and
freighters of many ship classes and models.  They had all been very well
stocked by the two Colonies with food, water, supplies, and as many
people as possible.  The Prometheus was at least leading a well supplied
group of vessels.  One very important thing all the ships had in common
was the capability to obtain light-speed.  This would be an invaluable
defensive asset used to stay ahead of the Cylons if the human fleet was
discovered  
     The members of the 58th Viper Squadron still flying divided and made
their way to various landing bays among the freighters and cargo ships. 
They would have to be permanently stationed there since the Prometheus
was unable to hold any more fighters.  Her two squadrons and the other
half of the 58th were already on board.  All the ships reported being
ready for light-speed.  Governor Omar bid all the ships a fond farewell
over a fleet wide-link asking for prayers and ensuring hope for
humanity's future despite the circumstances.
     Three shuttles brought their final load of civilians up from the
surface mere centons before the Prometheus pulled out of Sagitara's
orbit.  As the display on the battlestar's bridge counted down to zero,
the fleet moved as a unit to leave the Uoe Star System.  Long range
scanners estimated that the Cylon transports were still far away, but the
fighters from the escorting base ships would be within striking range of
the planets in three centars.  Commander Able chose an exit corridor that
led his ships between two gas giant planets in the outer part of the
system opposite the invading forces.  The gas emissions and gravitational
anomalies would hopefully obscure them from any long- range scanners of
the enemy.  
     Commander Able planned to make a fast sprint at light-speed until
the Fleet was at least a secton's travel past the outermost human
outpost.  Once past the Colonial territories, he would slow the fleet to
take inventory of the supplies and make sure everything was distributed
fairly.  Then, he would take the fleet forward, leaving the Cyrannus
Sector further and further behind.  An enormous weight of responsibility
had been thrust upon his shoulders as the Fleet Commander--how things
could change so quickly without warning.  He was determined not to be
found and make sure his people were protected.  Over twenty thousand
people were counted in the Fleet, including military personnel and ships'
crewmembers.  This was a pitifully small representation to take to the
stars for humanity's survival, but it was all there was from Sagitara and
Aquaria with the exception of the Galactica's fleet.    
     Commander Able thought he was done with the Cylon threat at least
temporarily, but the sense of security he had for his people would be
short lived.  

The End