Raptor Four-Two-Seven
Recon Mission

"Would you please shut the frak up already," sighed Lieutenant Alan Banner as he slowly brought the nose of the Raptor around. "Gods, at least we're getting some flight time."

"You are getting the flight time," countered Lieutenant Rick Kitridge as he reached over and began adjusting some of the controls on the ECO panel. "I'm just back here flying the dummy seat."

"Would you just start your DRADIS sweep already," sighed Banner as he glanced over his shoulder back at Kitridge.

"Third jump within this system and still nothing," muttered Kitridge as he continued flipping switches on the panel. "You really think we'll find something with this sweep?"

"I'm not about to hold my breath, but we won't know unless we try," shrugged Banner as he looked out past the canopy. "At least we've been able to get off the Proteus for a little while."

"So say we all to that, my friend," grinned Kitridge as the first data from the DRADIS sweep began to filter across the screen. "Six months of sitting aboard that old bucket, I can see why Fleet was ready to retire her. Ok, beginning third survey sweep, and, what a surprise, nothing significant."

"Okay, so there's nothing 'significant', but what is out there?"

"We have a gas giant, makes two for this system," sighed Kitridge as the data continued to stream across the screen. "Looks like five, no, make that six moons. One has an abundance of surface glaciers, but there's a high methane signature."

"Makes for poor drinking water," muttered Banner as he too saw the data on his own screen. "Go ahead and mark it down anyway for our report…"

Just then, a low alarm began emanating from the ECO panel.

"What now?" groaned Kitridge as he leaned in a little closer. "Whoa, wait, this is worth noting."

"My panel shows nothing," said Banner as he reflexively looked out past the canopy. "What have you got?"

"One hell-of-an anomalous radiological signature."

Glancing over his shoulder, straining a bit, Banner looked over at Kitridge as the ECO continued to pour over the data streaming across his screen.

"What do you mean 'anomalous'?" asked Banner evenly.

"Not sure yet," replied Kitridge as he continued to focus the DRADIS in. "I'm sending the data up to you."

Looking down at his own display, Banner's brow furrowed a bit as he too began reading over the data.

"Could be the remnant of a solar flare," offered Banner.

"I doubt it," replied Kitridge, gently shaking his head. "Our sweep along the inner system didn't show any signs of flare activity. Even if it were, between the solar winds being put out by that class K star and the gravity of the gas giants, it should be more diffuse if it were just a flare."

"You're right, it's too localized," muttered Banner as the data continued to stream across his display. "What about an asteroid collision?"

"Again, I doubt it," sighed Kitridge. "The asteroid belt is pretty far out within this system and our survey didn't show much in the way of radioactive isotopes in those rocks, certainly not enough to account for a signature this large."

"Comet impact with the gas giant itself?"

"Now you're just throwing out random theories," smiled Kitridge.

"Okay, what do you think it is?"

"As impossible as it sounds, it looks like the after-image of a thermonuclear detonation."

With his heart skipping a few beats, Banner kept his attention on the data scrolling before him.

Damned if Kitridge wasn't right.

"What do you think?" asked Kitridge simply.

"Much as I wish you were wrong, I have to agree," muttered Banner.

"Hard to tell what the yield might have been," sighed Kitridge. "This could have been one big blast or a series of several smaller ones."

"Either way, we may have a big problem," said Banner as he leaned back into his flight seat, his fingers flexing nervously around the control stick.

"What, Cylons?"

"You see the problem."

"Well, DRADIS is clear otherwise, no signs of enemy ships anywhere in range," said Kitridge evenly.

"For now."

Looking back down at the DRADIS data on his own screen, Banner thought he saw something in the data, something about as unexpected as the radiation signature itself.

"Hey, check DRADIS," snapped Banner.

"Okay, what am I checking it for, exactly?" asked Kitridge as he once again leaned in towards the ECO panel.

"Is it me, or are you picking up debris within the radiation field?"

"Frak me, I think you're right," muttered Kitridge. "From the refractory signature, a hell-of-a lot of debris, too. Well, what do you suggest?"

"Much as I hate to say it, we should probably take a closer look," sighed Banner, shaking his head slightly. "If it is the Cylons then it'd be a good idea to have more data to hand over when we return to the fleet."

"Might be a good idea to try and figure out what it was they were shooting at, too," offered Kitridge.

Taking a deep breath, Banner reached up and began slowly tightening the retention straps draped over his shoulders.

"Alright, we take a look," he sighed as he brought the nose of the Raptor around. "Just be ready to jump us out at the first sign of trouble; last thing I want is to have to explain to CAG why our bird got shot up."

Warstar Galactica
Combat Information Center

"Nine birds have checked back in so far, Commander," began Major Tyra Burke as she gently slid a report printout across the plot table. "So far we have two moons with possible potable water sources and an asteroid belt showing traces of tylium."

"Better than nothing, I suppose," muttered Commander Sean Kelso as he picked up the report and skimmed over the text. "How many birds do we still have aloft?"

"Six more," replied Burke as she reached up and brushed an errant lock of hair away from her eyes. "Mission profile has them scouting out the furthest, so we're not expecting them back for at least an hour."

"Very well," sighed Kelso as he looked up from the page.

As he stood looking across the plot table at Burke, Kelso watched as the Major once again tried to brush an errant lock over hair back behind her ear, her expression slightly annoyed.

And then he realized…

"Major, can't help but notice you're wearing your hair differently," he smiled.

Burke's face immediately took on an almost embarrassed expression.

"Oh, yes sir," she stammered as she gave the errant lock one last, firm brush back behind her ear. "It's still within regulation sir, thought I'd try something a little different, but if the Commander would prefer…"

"No, no, it's fine, Major," chuckled Kelso, waving his hand somewhat dismissively. "It's just, six months now, I never thought I'd never see you without that regulation bun."

As the Major stood there, smiling weakly, she seemed genuinely embarrassed by the attention. For his part, Kelso simply returned his attention to the report lying on the plot table.

"If I may sir, since you brought it up, I do have a question," muttered Burke, lowering her voice a bit as she leaned in over the plot table.

Looking back up from the report, Kelso smiled a bit.

"What is it, Major?"

"I was just curious, sir, do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"The hair, sir," muttered Burke, absently reached up and fiddling with a lock between her fingers. "Do you think it looks good like this?"

For a moment, Kelso felt like he'd run headlong into a bulkhead.

"Are you asking my personal opinion, Major?"

"Yes, sir," replied Burke evenly.

Now it was Kelso's turn to feel embarrassed.

Clearing his throat, Kelso stammered for a moment, absently fiddling with the printout underneath his fingers.

"Are you sure it's my opinion that counts?" asked Kelso, forcing a grin.

"Sorry, sir, never mind," muttered Burke, gently shaking her head, her expression clearly one of disappointment. "I'll have my hair fixed by this afternoon."

Taking a quick breath, Commander Sean Kelso noted her disappointment, and immediately felt sorry for his reaction.

For the first time in so many months, Burke was showing that she was more than just a consummate XO, but that she was a woman as well; she'd offered him an olive branch of sorts, clearly interested in his opinion, and like an ass, he'd made her feel uncomfortable for the effort.

"No, Major, that won't be necessary," said Kelso evenly, his smile a little less forced as he leaned in towards her over the plot table. "I think it looks very good on you."

Almost instantly, her expression softened again as she looked back across to him.

"Thank you, sir," she smiled.

"Mind if I ask whose attention it is you're trying to catch?" asked Kelso as he glanced back down at the report.

For a moment, Burke didn't reply.

Glancing up, Kelso noted her hesitation and wondered if he'd overstepped his bounds.

"If it's too personal, Major, I can just mind my own business," offered Kelso evenly.

Burke hesitated for a moment, and was about to open her mouth to reply when the entry hatch opened. Burke instantly shut her mouth and looked away as Captain Jordan Gaines stepped up to the plot table.

"What brings you to CIC, Captain?" asked Kelso evenly, glancing over at Gaines, but nevertheless puzzled by Burke's change in demeanor.

"I just had some requisition forms I needed to turn in, Commander," replied Gaines evenly as she handed over a couple slips of paper to Kelso. "I want to try and get some ammo, get my people some trigger time on the small arms range."

"That's the XO's department," muttered Kelso as he quickly passed the forms over to Burke.

"I'll see what I can arrange, Captain Gaines," said Burke evenly as she took hold of the forms, barely glancing over at Gaines as she did so.

For a moment, Kelso thought he picked up some tension between Gaines and Burke. For her part, at least, Burke's tone held a real no-nonsense edge, indeed almost harsh, even for the XO.

"Thank you, Major Burke," began Gaines, her own tone bereft of anything but formality. "When can I expect an answer to the request?"

"Hard to say, Captain," began Burke evenly, barely glancing over at the Marine CO. "Small arms qualifications are hardly a high priority right now."

For his part, Kelso was genuinely surprised at the subtly adversarial tone creeping into the Major's voice. But, by the same token, the matter did fall within her prevue and he wasn't about to start stepping on the Major's toes; micromanaging his XO was not a healthy way to command.

"Very well, Major," replied Gaines evenly as she turned back to Kelso. "Are we still on for tomorrow, Commander?"

Smiling a bit, Kelso gently nodded his head as he feigned continuing to review the already thoroughly reviewed Raptor recon report.

"Seventeen hundred hours sound good, Captain?" asked Kelso evenly.

"Seventeen hundred hours, Commander," echoed Gaines as she turned and began making her way back towards the entryway.

As he heard Gaines step back through the hatch, Kelso looked back over at Burke…

…And was genuinely surprised when he saw her intently watching the departing Captain Gaines.

"Is there a problem, Major?" asked Kelso, his tone conveying as much surprise as he felt.

Again, as if caught off guard by Kelso's attention, Burke looked back over at him and began gently shaking her head.

"No, sir, no problem," she stammered.

Taking a deep breath, Kelso set the report he'd been fiddling with back down on the plot table.

"Go ahead and just spit it out, Major," said Kelso, lowering his tone as he again leaned in over the plot table. "There's something on your mind, I can see it all over your face."

Looking back across at him, Burke held his gaze for a moment, then began lightly shaking her head again.

"I just don't think it's appropriate, sir," she began, trying to keep her voice low, but clearly fuming a bit.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Major," said Kelso, his brow furrowing a bit in confusion.

"What I mean, sir, is she could at least pretend to show a little more discretion."

"Okay, you've completely lost me; discretion about what?"

For a moment, Burke simply fiddled with the requisition forms in her hands, taking several hesitant breaths before finally setting them down with a light thump.

"Sir, I don't mean any disrespect, but you must see it," said Burke flatly as she looked across the plot table at him. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"Major, you've never hesitated to speak your mind to me before, so yes, whatever is on your mind you'd better just come right out with it."

For a moment, the two of them stood staring at one another across the plot table. Burke, hesitant, stammered for a moment, Kelso near clueless as to why.

"The Captain, she's…" began Burke, pausing, shifting uncomfortably, clearly trying to muddle through finding a way to express what was plainly uncomfortable for her to discuss. "Captain Gaines is flirting with you, Commander."

Burke almost seemed to choke on the word 'attracted', and for his part, Kelso couldn't help but be surprised by the subtly bitter tone in her voice.

For his part, Kelso had begun to wonder about it himself after their most recent run together. Truth be told, he found her attractive as well, though he tried not to dwell on that fact. Quite simply, he had enough problems to deal with keeping this fleet alive to even think about heaping on the added complication of a relationship to his life.

But for Burke to be incensed by the possibility…

…And that's when it hit him.

Oh, gods…

Was Burke, Major Tyra Burke, the quintessential recruiting poster Colonial Officer, actually jealous?

Whereas before he'd felt like he'd run into a bulkhead, now he felt like that bulkhead had collapsed on top of him.

Standing there, his gaze locked with his silently livid XO, Commander Sean Kelso felt like a man drowning, desperate to chalk the idea up to nothing more than imagination, the convoluted misperceptions of his own inflated ego.

Worse still, he had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. He almost found himself wishing the DRADIS overhead would scream out, announcing the arrival of an entire Cylon task force.

Anything to divert attention from this most awkward of moments.

Glancing up, he suddenly hated the DRADIS for its cruel silence.

Forcing out a weak chuckle, Kelso reached out, picked up a small stack of papers from the plot table, shuffled them into a pile, then turned towards the entryway.

"I'll be in my quarters, Major," muttered Kelso evenly as he quickly shuffled towards the hatch. "Advise me when the next Raptor checks in."

"Sir?" muttered Burke, surprised at the Commander's abrupt departure.

From her tone, it was clear she'd expected more, but Commander Sean Kelso was too stunned to even begin to try and work through the quagmire he'd suddenly and quite unexpectedly found himself sinking in.

Stepping out into the corridor, Kelso felt his heart pounding in his chest as he took a few brisk steps down the corridor, pausing, reaching a hand out towards the bulkhead to steady himself as he took a few deep breaths.

"What the frak?" he muttered, reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose. "I must be losing my mind."

"Sir?"

Glancing back over his shoulder, Kelso was embarrassed to see the blatantly confused expression on the face of the Marine posted outside CIC.

He'd forgotten the Marine would be there.

Forcing out another weak smile, Kelso waved his hand dismissively.

"Nothing, Private," he grinned.

Nodding his head gently, but clearly no less confused, the Marine simply stood there, watching, as Kelso endured an equally embarrassing moment wherein he actually forgot which direction his quarters were in.

"Carry-on, Private," said Kelso simply as he regained his bearings and headed off down the corridor.

"Aye, Commander."

Raptor Four-Two-Seven
Recon Mission

"What…the…frak?" muttered Lieutenant Alan Banner, awestruck as he sat looking out past the canopy.

"Now this is something we're going to have to report," muttered Lieutenant Rick Kitridge as he slowly dropped down into the co-pilot seat beside Banner.

Spread out in front of them, tumbling in the weak light of the system's star, was a vast field of debris; crushed and twisted alloy sheets and stanchions, support beams, large ceramic plates, quite clearly, undeniably, the remains of a destroyed vessel.

"Where the frak do you think all this debris came from?" muttered Kitridge, his mouth hanging half-open in awe.

"If I had a clue, I doubt my heart would be this far up in my throat," replied Banner as he continued to crane his neck around at a large chunk of debris drifting by. "You see those markings there?"

"No, what markings?" snapped Kitridge as he glanced about.

"Never mind, it's gone," sighed Banner as he looked back out at the debris field. "I thought I saw some marking on that chunk of debris that just floated by."

"What kind of markings?"

"How the hell should I know?" replied Banner. "I wouldn't have been asking if I had an idea."

For a moment, the two of them sat silent, looking out at the debris.

"Wait, you see that?" asked Kitridge as he pointed out past the canopy.

"See what?" asked Banner, squinting slightly.

"That, over there," replied Kitridge as he pointed out at a piece of debris floating in the dim light.

"Looks like a wing," muttered Banner as he caught sight of what Kitridge was pointing at.

"That's exactly what it looks like," said Kitridge.

"If it is, it's not from any ship I've ever seen," continued Banner as he continued to look at the tumbling object.

"Do you think it's Colonial?" asked Kitridge.

Banner simply shrugged.

"What about Cylon?" asked Kitridge, glancing over at Banner.

Again, Banner simply shrugged.

Scowling a bit, Kitridge looked over at Banner.

"Think you'll ever get around to paying me those fifty cubits you owe me from last night's game?"

Prodded by Kitridge's statement, Banner looked over at him and began shaking his head slightly…

…Just as something slammed into the cockpit canopy.

"Oh, frak!" snapped Kitridge, his arms reflexively flying up in front of his helmet faceplate.

His own heart racing, Banner's eyes darted back and forth across his console, vigilant for any sign of damage, any alarms as he gripped tightly onto the craft's controls.

Nothing.

The Raptor was undamaged.

His breathing still somewhat erratic, quick, Banner looked out past the canopy for some sign of what had stuck the Raptor.

"What the frak was that?" muttered Kitridge as he slowly lowered his arms.

"I don't know, didn't see it," replied Banner as he looked out at the tumbling debris warily.

Stunned, the two Raptor crewmen fought to regain control over their breathing.

Then, slowly, Kitridge reached up, his hand shaking slightly as he began pointing at something smeared across the canopy exterior…

…A thin, reddish stain, small, but evident

"Gods, is that what I think it is?" muttered Kitridge.

"I sure as hell hope it's not," replied Banner as he flexed his now-quaking fingers around the control stick. "Let's see if we can figure out what hit us. Hit the searchlight."

Reaching out to the console, Kitridge toggled the switch for the light mounted under the Raptor's nose. As the beam cut through the surrounding darkness, Banner slowly brought the nose of the Raptor around as the two of them sat there, eyes scanning the depths of space outside the canopy.

"Oh, frak, there it is," muttered Banner as the light played across a figure tumbling against the backdrop of endless stars.

His breath quickening, a lump choking his throat, Kitridge began gently shaking his head, as much in disbelief as in fear.

"No, no, no, this is all wrong," he muttered.

"Wrong or not, it's real," countered Banner.

Tumbling, caught in the glaring light from the Raptor's searchlight, was a body.

Unmistakably, undeniably, a body.

With the hairs on their necks standing on end, hearts racing, breaths clipped, rapid, the two Raptor crewmen were transfixed, mesmerized by the impossible sight of a body tumbling slowly in the vacuum just outside their canopy.

The body was fully clothed in an olive drab coverall, and a head encased in what clearly seemed to be a flight helmet, but neither of which was Colonial issue. Still, the two pilots nevertheless felt an almost dreadful yet eerie sense of familiarity as they watched the body tumbling just beyond the canopy.

"Okay, a body," muttered Kitridge, his mouth dry. "Now what?"

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Banner forced himself to look away, craning his head around to see if there was any other debris tumbling towards them.

"Well," he began, licking his dry lips as he looked back over at the body. "We were sent out here to recon; I'd say this counts as something significant enough to report."

"Yeah, okay," muttered Kitridge, slowly standing up, his eyes still locked on the body. "I'll start spinning up the FTL for the jump back."

"No, not yet."

"What, why the frak not?" snapped Kitridge as he looked down at Banner.

"Look, we go back now empty handed, everyone is likely to think we've gone crazy," sighed Banner as he glanced up at Kitridge. "We need some evidence."

For a moment, they simply stared at one another.

Then, looking away, Banner gently gripped onto the craft's controls and began nudging the Raptor closer to the body.

"Oh, frak no!" burst Kitridge as he suddenly realized what it was Banner was suggesting. "Snap some damned pictures with the gun cameras for gods' sake."

"Look," snapped Banner, glaring back over his shoulder at Kitridge. "This is no different from any other S&R retrieval."

"The frak it's not," sputtered Kitridge. "Just in case you're missing the big picture here let me spell it out for you; our fleet is so far out from the Colonies that none of the stars even look familiar, and I don't know about you but I've never seen a uniform like that one."

"So just what are you trying to say?" asked Banner as he looked somewhat quizzically over at Kitridge.

"What I'm saying is that body out there could be a fraking alien."

"Don't give me that science-fiction crap," snapped Banner dismissively as he looked back out the canopy and continued to nudge the Raptor closer. "Two arms, two legs, one head, for all we know this was just another ship that got away from the attack on the Colonies. Now, get back to the side hatch and prepare to retrieve that body."

Kitridge stood there for a moment, little more than flabbergasted as he watched Banner continue to maneuver the Raptor closer.

"Fine," groaned Kitridge, his tone heavy with frustration as he stepped back into the rear compartment.

As he kept a keen eye on the body, Banner continued to gently nudge the controls, deftly maneuvering the tiny ship in towards the tumbling form.

"You ready to pick up our hitchhiker?" asked Banner evenly as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Not that it really fraking matters, but no," replied Kitridge flatly as he reached up and snapped a safety line into place on a bracket beside the hatch.

"Well, once you've shifted your ass into the proper gear it should be right outside the hatch," replied Banner evenly.

Glancing out the small window, Kitridge took a deep steadying breath as he caught sight of the body.

"Okay, let's do this," sighed Kitridge as he pressed a button that quickly depressurized the cabin.

"Decompression complete," muttered Banner a few moments later.

"Opening the hatch."

In the silence of hard vacuum, the hatch slowly lifting up and away as Kitridge gave a gently tug on both ends of the safety line, first the end clipped to the bracket, then the end clipped to his flight gear. Looking out the open hatch, Kitridge saw the body tumbling at the edge of the Raptor winglet.

"Sure you don't want to just snap a few pictures?"

"I'll make you a deal, Rick," began Banner as he glanced back over at Kitridge. "You grab that body, and I'll double what I owe you from last night's game."

"A hundred cubits, eh?" muttered Kitridge as he stood staring out at the body. "I guess that just leaves me frak out of excuses then, doesn't it?"

"I could make it an order if it makes you feel better about it," offered Banner, chuckling slightly.

"Frak you," replied Kitridge as he took his first tentative step out onto the Raptor winglet.

Letting go of his hold on the open hatch, Kitridge continued to edge his way forward, inches at a time, each tentative step taken without taking his eyes off the body.

"Just a little to Port," he muttered as he reached the edge of the winglet.

In response, Kitridge felt the Raptor move slightly beneath him, the body inching ever closer.

Then, with one hand clasped firmly around the retention strap, Kitridge reached out with his other hand towards the body. Flexing his fingers to still the trembling of his hand, he took a deep breath.

"Okay, hold it right there."

Warstar Galactica
Infirmary – Isolation Ward

"Both Lieutenant Banner and Lieutenant Kitridge check out medically," sighed the Medic as she leafed through the pages on the chart. "A little exhaustion perhaps, but nothing some good sleep won't cure."

"Thank you, Petty Officer," said Commander Sean Kelso evenly as he stood looking at the two Raptor crewmen who'd inadvertently made his already problematic situation potentially more difficult.

"Is there anything else, Commander?" asked the Medic.

"Any reason I can't talk to them?"

"No medical reasons not to sir, no," replied the Medic evenly.

"Carry on then, Petty Officer," said Kelso as he stepped over to the two pilots.

Seated on the edges of two exam tables, the two pilots did indeed look tired, but nevertheless moved to stand as Kelso stepped up to them.

Waving his hand gently, Kelso motioned for them to stay put as he stopped and stood looking first to one, then the other. Taking a deep breath, he slowly crossed his arms, in all actuality unsure of just what to say at first.

"You two realize you just made my life a whole lot more complicated, right?" he finally sighed.

At first, both Banner and Kitridge seemed unsure about how to interpret the Commander's statement, but soon relaxed as they noted the subtle grin on his face.

"Didn't mean to, sir," shrugged Banner. "Just seemed like the kind of thing we needed to report, I mean if whatever it was we saw out there was the remains of another a Colonial ship…"

"Then we could be on the trail of other survivors, I know," muttered Kelso, scratching his chin a bit. "Hard part is going to be figuring out how to proceed from here."

"So how far has the news spread, sir?" asked Kitridge.

"Officially, not far," sighed Kelso as he slowly stepped towards a third exam table and leaned against it. "Beyond the fact that your ship was diverted here to Galactica rather than returning to the Proteus, only a handful of deck gang and medical personnel have any idea that you brought something aboard."

"And unofficially, sir?" asked Kitridge.

Kelso couldn't help but snort.

"Secrets are hard to keep, especially aboard a flagship," nodded Kelso as he gently folded his arms. "Only question is how badly the information has been distorted from the actual truth."

"And what about you, Commander?" asked Banner pointedly. "Do you think it was a mistake bringing the body back?"

As he mulled over the question, Kelso took a deep breath.

When Banner and Kitridge's Raptor had jumped back into range of the fleet and requested immediate clearance to land aboard Galactica, Kelso had been surprised, but not so nearly as shocked as he'd been when they'd explained why over a secured wireless channel.

"Whoever or whatever it is you two retrieved could have serious ramifications for this entire fleet," said Kelso evenly, looking down at the deck for a moment. "Six months now we've been out here with not a single sign of either the Cylons or other survivors. If this was another Colonial ship, then we have to assume the Cylons are lurking somewhere nearby."

Looking back up at the two pilots, Kelso gently shook his head again.

He'd sent them out in search of food, water, maybe some tylium.

What they'd brought back instead had more than enough potential for undermining the fledgling sense of order that had begun to take hold within the fleet.

"Well, no point sugar-coating it, you two have given me one hell-of-a headache to contend with," sighed Kelso. "But whatever the problems we face from here on out, for the record you two did do the right thing. Whatever else might be out there, it's better we learn about it on our own terms."

"So what do we do now, sir," shrugged Banner.

Kelso couldn't help but chuckle a bit; indeed, what should they do now?

With that, Kelso began pacing a bit, mulling over his own thoughts.

"I presume you two accurately charted the position where you found this debris?" asked Kelso evenly, continuing to pace.

"Oh, yes, sir," replied Kitridge. "All the data should be in our Raptor's flight recorder."

"Major Macedo is already working with Major Culver on the download," said Kelso as he stopped his pacing, turned, and looked over at the two pilots. "But, as the first two to have actual eyeballs on this, give me your take, what do you think is out there?"

For a moment, Banner and Kitridge seemed genuinely surprised at Kelso's question.

"Well, sir, there's not a whole lot to say, really," began Kitridge. "Beyond the body, there really wasn't a whole lot left, just chunks of debris."

"But what made you deviate from your flight plan in the first place?"

"Rogue radiation anomaly, sir," began Banner. "Picked it up on DRADIS during our mid-system sweep, went in for a closer look."

"And that's when we found the debris field," finished Kitridge.

"And what do you think it was, first impression?"

"Definitely a ship, sir," replied Banner flatly.

"Most of the debris we actually saw was little larger than our Raptor," sighed Kitridge as he glanced over at Banner. "But DRADIS says the field was pretty vast, maybe spread over sixty cubic kilometers."

"At least sixty-K," continued Banner. "I also think the ship might have been some sort of carrier."

"Why do you think that, Lieutenant?"

"A wing, sir," replied Banner flatly. "Within the debris we saw an object that looked like the wing of a small fighter-sized craft."

"Colonial?" asked Kelso evenly.

"It was a bit larger than those on a Viper, sir," replied Kitridge, taking in a deep breath."If it was Colonial, it's from a ship I've never seen before, I suppose a prototype of some kind is a possibility."

Taking a deep breath, Kelso continued to stare at the two Raptor crewmen. With a whole host of questions still careening through his mind, Kelso wished finding the answers were so simple. No, these answers, significant as they were, were doubtless going to be painfully slow in coming.

Still, the questions raised echoed through him…

Had the ship indeed been another Colonial vessel that had survived the destruction of the Colonies?

If so, who or what had destroyed it?

Gods, he had to find out.

"Excuse me, Commander?"

Yanked from his own thoughts, Kelso turned to see the same Medic who'd cleared Banner and Kitridge standing there.

"Yes, Petty Officer, what is it?"

"Major Lefler is requesting your presence in post-mortem, sir."

"What, so soon?" muttered Kelso, glancing up at the clock on the wall. "Is she done with the autopsy already?"

"The Major didn't say, sir, she just asked me to have you join her."

"Thank you," nodded Kelso as she turned and stepped away.

Taking a deep breath, Kelso looked back over at the two pilots. If they were making any effort at hiding their curiosity, they were failing miserably.

"Well, gentlemen, I'm afraid I have two choices for you," began Kelso evenly as he took a step closer to them. "Since you two found the body, it's only fair you have a chance to be there when the good doctor delivers her report."

"Or, sir?

"Or, you two can go get some rest," said Kelso evenly. "Downside to that is you two will be effectively sequestered until we get some more answers. Nothing personal, mind you, just preemptive rumor control."

"Understood, Commander," said Kitridge, practically hopping down off the exam table.

"We started this mess, might as well see it through," continued Banner evenly as he too got up from the exam table and motioned over at Kitridge. "Anything beats being locked in solitary with this guy."

Battlestar Pacifica
Commanding Officer's Quarters

"You must have some idea what's going on over there," said Paul Bess evenly, slowly folding his arms as he leaned back against the bulkhead.

"Not a single word," replied Adrian Kelso, gently shaking his head. "At least, not any more than you; a lone Raptor jumped back to the fleet and instead of returning to Proteus made an emergency diversion request to Galactica."

"Surely he'd tell you what was going on if you asked him though," interjected Mark Shipman. "He is your son, for the gods' sake."

"And he's also the Commander of this fleet," countered Adrian flatly. "Now, if there is something going on, and he's made the decision to keep it confidential for now, then we have to trust that there is a reason."

"Problem is rumors spread fast," began Paul Bess, slowly stroking the light beard he'd recently begun to grow. "People are already whispering everything from an imminent Cylon attack to the discovery of Thirteenth Tribe, of all such nonsense."

Taking a deep breath, Adrian Kelso looked from Bess to Shipman.

Rumors were a part of shipboard life; that much he knew from the war. Hell, prior to the attack on the Colonies, there were such a prolific number of faux-news shows one could easily argue that gossip and innuendos were bonafide human obsessions.

Trouble was that in the closed environment such as that aboard the Pacifica, rumors had a tendency to take on a life of their own. Rumors led to supposition, and in the absence of facts or evidence, imagination often filled in the gaps.

That's how conspiracy theories started.

And once such a hydra was loose, facts tended to matter less and less; cut off the head of one lie with the truth, two more pseudo-theories simply grew in its place.

Letting out a flat huff of frustration, Adrian Kelso reached up and began rubbing his eyes.

"Alright, I'll put in a call over to Galactica, see what I can find out," he sighed, looking back over at Bess and Shipman. "But, in the meantime we need to head off any and all rumors that are being spread around within the civilian circles."

"And you'll let us know as soon as you find out any information?" asked Shipman hopefully.

Adrian nodded slightly.

"Just so long as we all remember, Galactica calls the shots on all matters military," continued Adrian. "And that means my son calls the shots, and I support him. Our job is to tend to the huddled masses so he and his crew can get us through to whatever final port the gods have in store for us."

With that, Bess and Shipman departed, presumably to return to their respective ships. Slowly leaning back in his chair, Adrian was slightly annoyed when he accidently bumped his head against the bulkhead, forgetting for a moment just how close to the bulkhead he actually was. Gently rubbing the spot on the back of his head, he instead stood up, snatching up the uniform tunic given to him by Theo Cullen what had begun to seem like a lifetime ago now.

While he'd initially felt quite odd wearing a Colonial uniform while not technically actively commissioned, over time he'd grown accustomed to it. In fact, to his best recollection, no one, not his son, nor any of the other active officers had ever openly questioned his wearing it. Indeed, over the last several months, more and more of the civilians pressed into service aboard the decoms had begun wearing Colonial uniforms, typically the olive drab fatigues, but uniforms none-the-less.

But as he slowly slid his arms into the sleeves of his tunic, Adrian Kelso knew there was an extra important reason for wearing the uniform today.

"Commander on deck," snapped Ensign Jinara Cole dutifully as Adrian Kelso stepped in through the CIC hatch.

"As you were," he said simply, grinning a bit as he made his way over towards the plot table.

Ensign Jinara Cole had been little more than a green officer only a few months ago, a veritable child who by sheer luck had been aboard the Pacifica when the attack began.

Or had it been fate?

He'd never forgotten the terrible irony that the Pacifica had nearly been destroyed so many decades ago defending Libran, only to have the colony's own atomic death throes mask the old Battlestar's escape. But as time had gone on, the frantic race to escape giving way to time for reflection, the old man Adrian Kelso had become couldn't miss the more poetic quirk of fate that his old XO, Colonel Danielle Cole had once saved the Pacifica, and now the Pacifica had repaid that debt by spiriting Ensign Jinara Cole, her granddaughter, away from destruction.

And while Jinara had been only weeks out of the Academy when Pacifica had escaped, these last months she'd blossomed into her own. Truly, she'd taken her grandmother's place as his Executive Officer. Under the guidance and subtle tutelage of not only Adrian Kelso, but most every last veteran aboard who had both served under and admired Dani Cole, Jinara had grown in confidence and ability.

As he slowly made his way up to the plot table, Adrian Kelso couldn't help but continue to grin.

"How went the mid-watch, Ensign Cole?" asked Adrian evenly.

"Nothing significant to report, Commander," replied Cole evenly as she handed over a clipboard. "A few wireless messages from Galactica, mostly housekeeping, some changes to resupply schedules."

"Very well," said Adrian as he quickly looked over the wireless message printouts. "Ready to be relieved?"

"I could definitely use some rack time, sir," sighed Cole, slowly stretching her back a bit as she looked up at the DRADIS display overhead.

As he set the clipboard down on the plot table, Adrian caught sight of Theo Cullen stepping in through the entryway in the upper gallery. Nodding at Cullen, Adrian watched as his old Operations Officer made his way down towards the plot table.

"Did you get what I asked for?" asked Adrian simply as Cullen stepped up.

In response, Cullen smiled and handed Adrian a small box.

"Excellent," beamed Adrian as he turned back to Ensign Cole.

Not missing the exchange, Cole looked over at the old Commander with a curious expression.

Reaching down, Adrian snatched up the handset on his side of the plot table and toggled the switch for the Pacifica's internal One-MC.

"All hands, this is the Commander, attention to orders," he said evenly, locking the switch a moment later so the handset would continue to broadcast as he set it down on the plot table.

"Mr. Cullen?" said Adrian Kelso evenly as he came to attention.

"Ensign Jinara Cole, front and center," snapped Cullen as he fell into place one pace behind and to the left of Adrian Kelso.

Perplexed, but no less compliant, Ensign Cole quickly made her way around the plot table, stopping and coming to attention in front of Adrian Kelso.

As she stood there, Ensign Cole watched as Cullen handed Adrian Kelso a single sheet of paper. Retrieving his glasses from his uniform pocket, Kelso slipped them into place, grinning slightly as he cleared his throat and held the sheet up so he could read from it.

"To our trusty and well beloved Jinara Cole, greeting," he began, his voice echoing a bit through CIC. "We, reposing special trust and confidence in your loyalty, courage, and good conduct, do by these presents constitute and appoint you to be a Lieutenant Junior Grade in the Colonial Fleet. You are therefore carefully and diligently to discharge your duty in that rank or in such other rank as we may from time to time hereafter be pleased to promote you to, in such manner on such occasions as may be prescribed by us to exercise and well discipline in their duties those officers, men and women as may be placed under your orders from time to time and use your best endeavors to keep them in good order and discipline. And we do hereby command them to obey you as their superior officer and you to observe and follow such orders and directions as from time to time you shall receive from us, or any superior officer, according to the rules and discipline of the Military Forces of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, in pursuance of the trust hereby reposed in you. Given under my hand this date aboard the Battlestar Pacifica."

With that, Adrian Kelso took a half-step forward and presented the small box he'd been given by Cullen to a clearly stunned Jinara Cole. Taking hold of the box, she looked down, opened it, and saw the twin collar insignia of a Lieutenant Junior Grade.

Looking back up at Adrian Kelso, Cole began to smile.

Reaching over, Kelso picked the handset back up.

"This is the Commander, thank you for your attention, carry on."

Hanging the handset back up, Kelso looked over at a still clearly stunned now-Lieutenant Jinara Cole.

"Well are you going to stare at those all day or are you going to try them on?" chuckled Adrian as he stepped closer to her.

"Hadn't quite decided yet, sir," she smiled, her eyes still locked on the gleaming insignia inside the box. "Hadn't really thought I'd ever be promoted."

"Our fleet may be a lot smaller, Lieutenant, but we still need to acknowledge those who deserve recognition," said Kelso evenly as he reached up and began removing the Ensign insignia from Cole's collar.

"But with all due respect, and gratitude, Commander, what does this all mean?" asked Cole as she looked up into the beaming eyes of Adrian Kelso.

"What it means, Lieutenant Cole…" began Kelso as he fastened the first Lieutenant pin into place. "…is that in spite of all we've lost, life must continue. And in spite of what the Cylons visited upon us, we will rebuild."

Warstar Galactica
Infirmary – Post-Mortem

"Major, are you absolutely certain?" muttered Kelso, his utter astonishment echoing in his tone.

"Even a first year resident couldn't mess this up, sir," smiled Lefler as she stood looking down at the sheet-covered figure lying on her exam table.

Poised just inside the entryway, Kelso, Banner and Kitridge were visibly tense as Lelfer reached over and slowly pulled the sheet away from the figure.

"Of course, you're welcome to get a second opinion," sighed Lefler evenly as she looked back over at Kelso. "But you might as well see for yourself first."

His eyes locked on the figure lying on the cold metal exam table, Commander Sean Kelso took a few tentative steps closer. Deep within his chest, his heart was racing as he stood looking at the unmoving face.

There was clearly some severe bruising about the face and chest, according to Lefler, the surface evidence of the blunt-force trauma that had contributed to death. The skin had a sickly, yellowish pallor to it, further marred by additional bruising caused when the blood vessels had boiled and burst due to exposure to hard vacuum. But underneath all that surface damage was a truth that was as plain as the face sitting motionless on the table.

"Subject is a human male, approximately mid-twenties in age based on bone development and tooth erosion, blood type O-negative," said Lefler evenly as Kelso, Banner and Kitridge continued to step tentatively closer.

As the three of them stood there, a mixture of astonishment and disbelief clear in their features, Kitridge began slowly shaking his head.

"Gods, he looks like my cousin Alec," he muttered weakly.

"That's not your cousin, Rick," countered Banner softly. "What the frak is going on here?"

"That seems to be the question of the day," said Lefler evenly. "I'm still waiting on some lab work to come back, but there's no doubt; whoever he was or wherever he came from, rumors about little gray men can be put to rest, what you two gentlemen plucked from space is a human corpse, plain and simple."

"Not so simple, Major," sighed Kelso as he continued to look down at the clearly human face lying cold on the table. "Did he have any personal effects that might be able to help us figure out where he came from?"

"Everything he had on him is sitting over on that table there, Commander," replied Lefler as she pointed over at another table off to the side of post-mortem.

Making his way over to the table with both Banner and Kitridge close behind, Kelso looked down at the items Lelfer had removed from the dead man.

While he wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting, Kelso was struck most by how utterly unremarkable everything on the table appeared to be. Part of him had hoped that something lying on the table might offer some of the answers he found himself groping to find. But while everything lying there held an air of familiarity, indeed, with form following function, how different could a pair of underwear truly be, there was nothing in the pile of personal effects that clearly pegged the dead man as having originated on the Colonies.

"This helmet's not too different from our own," muttered Banner as he gently rotated the helmet around, running his fingers over the elaborate design painted above the visor. "A bit more ornate, perhaps, but similar enough."

"These might be unit patches of some kind," offered Kitridge as he held up one of the embroidered crests sewn to the simple olive drab coverall.

But even as the trio continued to sift through the pile, Commander Sean Kelso only found himself growing more and more frustrated. For each item they looked at or scrutinized, there was no stunning revelation, no catharsis that definitively resolved the mystery of where this man had come from.

Reaching into a pocket on the olive drab coverall, Kitridge slowly pulled out what appeared to be nothing more than a wallet. Glancing over, Kelso watched as Kitridge slowly opened the wallet, his expression wavering for a moment as he closed it and rather sheepishly handed the wallet over to Kelso.

"I don't suppose you found his driver's license," muttered Kelso as he took hold of the wallet.

"No, sir," muttered Kitridge simply, his voice somewhat somber.

Opening the wallet, Commander Sean Kelso found himself looking at a simple photo of a couple, both smiling, eyes alive and bright, holding one another close, lovingly cradled in each other's arms. One was clearly the man who now lay cold on Lefler's exam table. The other was a young woman, her long blonde hair hanging about her shoulders as she gently rested a hand on her visibly pregnant belly.

More than a mystery, the man lying dead behind him had been imparted a measure of humanity that filled Kelso with a sense of sadness. Looking at the picture, he found himself mourning a bit for the unknown woman and her unborn child; a father and a lover lost in the depths of space would no longer be there to hold them.

Slowly closing the wallet, Kelso looked up at Banner and Kitridge.

"I want you two to get down to the flight deck and aid Major Macedo and Major Culver in retrieving the flight data from your Raptor," he said evenly.

"I thought you said we were in isolation, sir," said Banner, a bit surprised as he glanced over at the Commander.

"Consider this a parole," replied Kelso evenly as he looked at both Banner and Kitridge. "We need answers, and I don't think we'll get them by treading softly."

Warstar Galactica
Commanding Officer's Quarters

As he stood there, leaning forward slightly over his simple desk, Commander Sean Kelso found himself looking out into some of the most surprised faces he had ever seen since the apocalyptic attack on the Colonies. Having called together his XO, the other CO's from the military ships in the fleet, as well as his father and Paul Bess, Commander Sean Kelso had briskly laid out what little information had been gathered by Banner and Kitridge.

An anomalous radiation signature, a vast field of debris, an unidentified human body found in the depths of space…

All things considered, the other senior ship CO's had taken the news pretty well.

"To say the least, Commander this is a lot to take in," sighed Major Tyra Burke as she stood, gently tapping her toe in what almost seemed to be annoyance. "Is there any reason we were not informed of this sooner, sir?"

"Until we had more information, Major, I decided to keep it strictly need-to-know," he replied evenly. "I'm sure you can understand why."

"Without a doubt," said Colonel Thadius Runel, as he slowly lifted himself from the simple couch set against the bulkhead. "Something like this has the potential to heap some serious difficulties onto an already full list of problems."

As the assemblage of officers continued to mill about, Commander Kelso watched them. It was clear most of them were still struggling a bit to digest the information. It didn't help that they didn't have much in the way of hard facts to digest in the first place.

"Well if the body is human, we must be looking at another ship that survived the attack on the Colonies," said Colonel Webber as she continued to leaf through the small stack of reports Kelso had handed out to them when they first arrived. "We know that the Battlestar Galactica got away with some civilian ships, this could be the clue we need to begin tracking them down."

"Did he have any personal effects on his person when the Raptor crew found him?" asked Proteus' CO, Major Tyle. "Anything that might help us identify which ship he was from?"

"Think of your own pilots, Major," countered Paul Bess evenly as he looked over to her. "How much beyond their own flight gear do they normally take with them on a mission?"

"Says here he had a wallet and some dog-tags, though," muttered Adrian Kelso evenly as he perused the pages, his eyes following the lines through the fames of his thin-rim glasses. "You weren't able to get an ID off of those?"

"Neither of those items were very helpful, in fact, quite the opposite," replied Commander Kelso with a long sigh. "The wallet had no ID in it, at least not that we could tell. The few documents or items that were inside were indecipherable. And as for the dog-tags, well, those had no writing on them at all, just some peculiar barcode etched into the surface."

"Is is possible we stumbled onto a relic?" asked Colonel Runel evenly as he continued to peruse the report. "The description of the man's uniform sounds a lot like some of the flightsuits from pre-unification; there were a lot of ships that went missing before the Cylon War, maybe this one got lost like we did."

"Possible, but I'd have to say unlikely," replied Commander Kelso. "From the radiation pattern and dispersal of debris, whatever destroyed this ship it couldn't have happened more than a couple of weeks ago at most, hard to imagine a ship from before the war surviving over six decades out here on its own."

"Then perhaps it was some sort of black ops ship that got away," offered Colonel Webber. "It would explain why there aren't any hard documents on the body."

"There is another possibility we seem to be tiptoeing around," began Colonel Runel, letting out a long sigh as he looked up from the sheets. "What if this ship isn't from the Colonies at all?"

"Oh, I really don't like the direction that line of thought begins to take us, Colonel," muttered Commander Kelso, shaking his head slightly as he looked over at Runel. "We start off along that path it will open up a whole can of religious worms I am not looking forward to dealing with."

"Still, it is a possibility, Commander, one I think we shouldn't be so quick to discount," shrugged Runel. "We all know very well that our ancestors migrated to the Colonies from Kobol."

"Are you suggesting we may be near Kobol?" asked Colonel Webber pointedly, smirking slightly as she glanced over at Runel.

"It has to be some sort of Cylon trick," interjected Major Paul Ambrose, the CO from the destroyer Adroa as he all but dropped his copy of the report down into his lap. "They brought this ship, or whatever it is, out here and blew it up and left this body for us to find."

"To what end?" asked Major Jasper, the CO of Ikenga, shaking her head slightly as she looked up from her copy of the report. "What would the Cylons gain by doing something like that?"

"Well just look at how we are all reacting right now," continued Ambrose as he motioned around at the others. "This could be nothing more than a ruse meant to shake us up, throw us off balance while they prepare an attack."

"We haven't seen any sign of the Cylons since we escaped from Leto's Twins," countered Colonel Webber evenly. "If this is some sort of trap, it's a hell-of-an elaborate one, even for them; first off they would have had to know beforehand that we'd be sending a Raptor to that system. Second, how could the Cylons even be certain our pilots would find the body amongst all that debris, much less bring it back?"

"Look, part of the reason I had for keeping this information compartmentalized in the first place was to avoid this kind of conjecture," began Kelso evenly as he held up his own copy of the pages. "In my experience, rumors and innuendo have a way of taking on a life of their own even when real events eventually prove them wrong."

"So what's your plan?" asked his father simply.

"Since we've learned just about all we're going to from the body, I figure our best option is to investigate the wreckage site itself," replied Commander Kelso evenly as he looked around at the assemblage. "Macedo, Culver, Banner and Kitridge have already retrieved all the recon data about the system and wreckage location from the Raptor's systems. All we have to do is go back for a closer look."

"Somehow I get the feeling you're not talking about sending out a bunch of Raptors," sighed Paul Bess as he looked over at Kelso.

"Indeed not," smiled Kelso. "This will be a true reconnaissance in force, one ship, Galactica alone."

"But why not take the whole fleet?" asked Major Amanda Tyle.

"From what we can tell from the data taken by the Raptor, whatever that debris was, it was destroyed by a thermonuclear detonation," replied Commander Kelso evenly. "Could be an engine overload, could be a bunch of tactical nukes. Until we know either way, I'm not about to risk the safety of the civilians by taking us in as a group."

"Granted, sir, but why Galactica?" asked Colonel Runel.

"First and foremost, we have the experts, some of the senior most engineers left in the fleet are aboard this ship. They're the one who are best suited to analyzing any debris we pick up. And second, if this does turn out to be another Colonial vessel, or more to the point, if this turns out to be some sort of Cylon trap, Galactica has the best chance of fighting her way out."

"There's another good reason to limit it to one ship," interjected Bess. "They're will be fewer rumors to fight off later."

"Indeed," agreed Commander Kelso.

"And what if this does turn out to be a human ship from somewhere other than the Colonies?" asked Adrian Kelso evenly as he slowly slipped his reading glasses back into his pocket.

"Well, I suppose we'll deal with that when we know for certain," replied Commander Kelso evenly. "Simple fact is that right now we don't know; this mission is our best chance to find out either way."

With that, most of the assembled officers simply nodded. For their part, they seemed to be conceding themselves to the frustration that Commander Sean Kelso already felt at the lack hard facts.

"Galactica will jump to the coordinates of the wreckage in six hours," sighed Commander Kelso. "Colonel Runel, you will take command of the rest of the fleet until we return."

"Very well," nodded Runel, a slight smirk creeping onto his lips. "How long do you want us to wait?"

"Give us six hours," sighed Commander Kelso. "If we haven't returned or you don't have contact with us by Raptor, you will jump the fleet to a new location."

"Understood, sir, but…"

"No 'buts', Colonel Runel," interjected Commander Kelso flatly. "If you don't hear from us in six hours, no heroics, the safety of this fleet takes absolute precedence over the Galactica."

At that, Runel nodded in understanding.

Taking a deep breath, Kelso looked around to each of them. He wished there was something more to say to them, but frankly, there wasn't. Either Galactica would find out some new information and return, or they wouldn't.

"Go ahead and report back to your respective commands," began Commander Kelso as he continued to look around to each of them. "Now it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway; keep on top of the rumors. Galactica jumping away from the fleet is not something people are going to miss. If it comes down to it, we're on a recon mission, nothing more. Not a lie, just a little pruning of the truth."

Again, the assemblage nodded.

"Dismissed," sighed Kelso simply.

With that, everyone began to file back out of the Commander's quarters, everyone that is, but his father, who simply stood leaning against a bulkhead as the others walked by.

"Here to give me another pep-talk?" smiled Sean evenly as the entryway closed behind the last of the departing officers.

"Do you need one?"

"A little affirmation that I'm doing the right thing might help," shrugged Sean as he looked over at his father.

"At this point, you don't need me to tell you that," sighed Adrian as he stepped over and dropped down onto the now vacant couch. "You know what you're doing, Sean. I've certainly got no reason to question your judgment."

"But?" muttered Sean evenly as he slowly lowered himself back into his own seat.

"No 'but'."

"I don't accept that, Dad," said Sean, shaking his head slightly. "You've got something on your mind otherwise you wouldn't have stayed and waited for the others to leave."

"Gods, you don't know how much you sound like your mother when you say things like that," chuckled Adrian as he looked over at his son. "She was more insightful than I ever really gave her credit for."

"So what's on your mind, Dad?"

"Practical concerns aside, I just want to make sure you've fully considered all the ramifications a discovery like this could have," said Adrian evenly. "I mean, a human floating out here in the middle of deep space. Gods, six months now and we still haven't gotten any closer to making a firm fix on where that wild jump deposited us. What are the odds of finding a human being way out wherever the hell 'here' is?"

"I certainly wouldn't want to place odds on chances that slim," sighed Sean evenly. "Nevertheless we found the body, and now we have to deal with it. What's your point?"

"My point is this, Son, you need to tread very softly with something like this," began Adrian evenly, fidgeting a bit as he leaned forward on the couch.

"Don't worry, Dad," grinned Sean. "If the Cylons show themselves, we'll jump out at the first sign of a Raider."

"That's not what I meant, Sean," countered Adrian evenly. "Runel's right, there are going to be people out there who are going to hear a story like this and immediately run for their copy of the Scriptures. Something like this has the potential to radically alter everything we accept on a truly fundamental level."

"Hence the reason we're taking it one step at a time," countered Sean.

"No, more than the military practicalities, you need to be ready for this to alter our society itself."

"Considering our society has already survived the destruction of our homeworlds, I'm at a loss to understand exactly how much more you think it can be changed."

"You're concerned with controlling the rumors, and that's good, but you also need to consider the flip side," continued Adrian. "With everything else our people have endured, losing everything in the attack, they're already searching their souls for an explanation for why it happened and why they were the ones chosen to survive. I just want you to keep in mind, there might be some who'll seize onto this as some sort of sign from the gods."

"I'm not a big believer in fate, Dad," replied Sean evenly.

"No, but there are a lot of people who are."

"So what am I to tread softly about, specifically?"

"Earth."

At that one word, uttered by a man he'd always viewed as perhaps the most practical he had ever known, Sean Kelso almost fell out of his chair.

"Earth is a legend, Dad," replied Sean flatly. "The whole story about the Thirteenth Tribe is a myth."

"Maybe so," shrugged Adrian softly. "Then again, maybe not."

"We already have far too many practical problems to deal with for me to start worrying about chasing a fable."

"I'm not saying you have to. But, you do need to be ready for the possibility. There are some who are going to see this as a sign; people who will see this as the exodus prophesized by Pythia. And those people are the kind who believe in fate, faithfully, even fanatically. If challenged on those beliefs, they might fight back in order to hold onto that world view."

Warstar Galactica
Combat Information Center

"Jump complete," announced Lieutenant Cortez evenly.

"Very well, begin DRADIS sweep."

As he stood at the main plot table, his eyes focused in on the DRADIS screen overhead, Commander Sean Kelso couldn't help going over in his mind the conversation he had had with his father only a few short hours ago.

To say that it had given him something to think about would have been an understatement.

In truth, he was beginning to feel a headache coming on.

It was going to be hard enough to navigate the murky waters of investigating the wreckage itself already. To have the added responsibility of keeping in mind how potentially tens of thousands of rattled survivors might view anything they discovered through some sort of metaphysical or theological prism only made his job more difficult.

Piecing together wrecked junk to find out where it had been built and who built it was a problem very much in line with his training and personality.

Piecing together how that information might affect something so personal, fundamental and ultimately unpredictable as a person's faith in the gods themselves was an area in which he was woefully under prepared.

"Beginning system DRADIS sweep now, Commander," called Lieutenant Cortez. "We are detecting the radiation field and wreckage reported by the Raptor, sir."

"Major Burke, get on the horn with Major Culver verify that our CAP and the recovery Raptors are ready for launch," said Kelso evenly as he looked across to his XO.

"Aye, sir," replied Burke as she snatched up the handset on her side of the table and relayed the order.

Within minutes, four Vipers and over a dozen Raptors launched from Galactica's flight decks. As the Vipers paired off and began their rather leisurely patrol pattern around Galactica, the Raptors began making their way towards the debris field. Their mission was simple, sift through what they saw and bring back as many samples as possible for analysis.

Simple in principle, but not so simple in practice.

As he stood there below the DRADIS, watching the operation unfold, Kelso couldn't help but think about the inherent dangers of their present course of action. Maneuvering Raptors around so much floating debris, avoiding collisions while also searching for anything the crews themselves deemed significant enough to drag back to Galactica was dicey at best. But considering they'd been operating the last six months under strict fuel rationing measures, as Commander Kelso watched his people work, it was clear that even the best pilots had begun to lose a bit of their edge, their reflexes becoming dulled from having stayed idle too long.

"Copy, Raptor Six-Five-One, you are declaring an emergency, priority approach on flight deck one," called Lieutenant Cortez.

On the screen overhead, Commander Sean Kelso shook his head in frustration as he watched the crippled bird, its Port engine damaged by an impact from debris, limp her way onto the approach pattern.

"That's the third ship in under an hour, Commander," sighed Burke, leaning in towards Kelso across the plot table.

"Our pilots are out of practice," muttered Kelso evenly, grimacing slightly as the wounded Raptor slid to a landing.

Watching the remaining Raptors continue to poke around in the debris field, Kelso pensively drummed his fingers on plot table.

"All right, Major," he sighed. "Order our ships to remain at the periphery of the debris field. We lose one more, scrub the mission and recall all our birds."

"Very well, sir," sighed Burke, her tone somewhat relieved.

As he continued to watch DRADIS, all but waiting for the moment when another ship would be hit and declare an emergency, Kelso noted that at least the CAP hadn't encountered any problems. Considering how out of practice the Raptor crews seemed to be, Kelso found himself sincerely hoping nothing happened that would require the Vipers to intervene. Maneuvering about in a field of debris was risky enough, having rusty Viper pilots engage in combat was a recipe for disaster.

"Say again Viper Three-Five-One?" muttered the young Petty Officer over at Communications.

Glancing over, Kelso couldn't help but think about Harris, the young woman who'd died during their escape from Leto's Twins six months ago. With a slight twinge of shame, Kelso suddenly realized he didn't know the name of Harris's replacement. Six months she had been manning that post now and he hadn't even bothered to look at the duty roster.

Was it that he was afraid to learn the name of one more crewman who might die?

"What do you have, Rocca?" called Burke, unknowingly relieving Kelso of the embarrassment of admitting he didn't know the young woman's name.

"Viper Three-Five-One is reporting that they've picked up an unknown wireless signal," called Petty Officer Rocca. "I'm trying to see if I can pick it up right now, Major."

For a few moments, Burke, Kelso, and a few others seemed to be waiting for Rocca as she cycled through the wireless channels, apparently trying to pick up whatever it was that the Viper pilot had.

"I think I've found it, sir," she finally called.

As she sat listening through her headset, Rocca's young features furrowed with concentration.

"What have you got, Rocca?" asked Kelso pointedly.

"I'm not entirely sure, sir," replied Rocca as she continued to adjust a few controls on her panel. "Repeating signal, no voice, almost sounds like a distress beacon."

"Pipe it overhead," snapped Kelso as he perked up his ears.

Within moments, the overhead speakers burst to life with the signal. Sure enough, there was a simple repeating pulse coming through the speakers, a low tone that was repeating over and over.

"Can we isolate the location of this signal?" asked Kelso evenly as he continued to listen to the repeating tone.

"I've triangulated the signal to a small moon deeper inside the system, Commander," called Rocca.

"Lieutenant Cortez?"

"I've cross referenced the triangulation with the data from the Raptor," called Cortez. "Small moon orbiting the third planet of this system."

"Is it habitable?" shot back Major Burke.

"Not exactly a place I'd want to take a vacation, Major," replied Cortez as he accessed the data recorded by Banner and Kitridge. "Heavy volcanic activity has spewed enough sulfur and other gases to render large sections of the moon hazardous, but there are a few isolated areas that could be survivable."

"Definitely sound like some sort of beacon," muttered Kelso as he continued to listen to the tone being broadcast over the speakers. "Could be survivors from this ship."

"Or it could be whoever it was that destroyed it," countered Burke evenly.

"Granted," nodded Kelso as he picked up the handset on his side of the plot table. "In any event, we came here to gather information, I'm not about to simply ignore that signal; we've come this far, might as well take it a bit further."

Toggling the switch on his side of the plot table, Kelso lifted the handset to his ear as he signaled for Rocca to cut off the overhead speakers.

"Captain Gaines."

"Captain, I have a mission for you," began Kelso as he absently looked back up at the overhead DRADIS. "Assemble a Recon team, full combat gear, and have them ready to depart in an hour, I'll meet you on the Starboard hangar and brief you personally."

"Aye, sir."

Hanging up the handset, Kelso looked back over a Major Burke.

"Advise the CAG to get three more Raptors prepped and ready, two for transport, one for over-watch," began Kelso as he motioned Cortez over to the plot table. "Lieutenant, I want a hard copy printout on everything we know about that moon, the location of the signal, everything."

"Aye, sir."

"Do you really think there could be survivors down on the surface, Commander?" asked Burke evenly.

"Won't know till we take a closer look, Major," sighed Kelso. "How far in system is this moon?"

"A little over an hour at nominal cruise, Commander," replied Cortez.

Nodding his head slightly, Kelso looked back up at DRADIS.

"Go ahead and advise all units they have one hour to finish up their sweep of the debris field," began Kelso as he looked back over at Burke. "Once Gaines and her team are ready, recall all our birds. We'll jump Galactica into near orbit for support."

"Not sublight, sir?" asked Burke, her brow furrowing a bit. "Are you expecting trouble?"

"Just hedging my bets, Major," shrugged Kelso as he returned his attention overhead. "The only thing we know right now is that someone or something blasted a ship to pieces with nuclear weapons. If they are anywhere near that moon, I don't want them to see us coming. Conversely, if they were to return here while were checking out the moon, I don't want our people hanging behind with their asses exposed. Until we know more, we go everywhere together and in force."

Warstar Galactica
Starboard Hangar Deck

Looking about, Commander Sean Kelso watched as the deck gang busily moved the returning Raptors over to several of the service bays. Off to one side, he could see several chunks of what he assumed was debris brought in by the Raptors and was tempted to step over and view them. But in his heart, Kelso knew that would have to wait.

The pieces salvaged by the Raptors from the debris field might still yield some important information, but there was something far more pressing waiting.

"Commander!" snapped a voice, barely echoing above the din of the machinery and whining engines.

Turning, Commander Sean Kelso saw his CAG, Major Thomas Culver, cutting a path around and past the busily moving deck gang.

"Do you have those ships I asked for ready, Major?" asked Kelso as Culver stepped up.

"Two Raptors are prepped and ready," began Culver slowly raising his hand as he saw Kelso begin to open his mouth. "And with your permission sir, based on the mission profile, I went ahead and substituted the third Raptor for that Scimitar, the one we retrieved…"

"Yes, of course, the one we found out near the testing range," nodded Kelso. "Is she flight worthy again?"

"Took a bit of work getting her avionics and electronics back into order," began Culver as he pointed over to the Scimitar, the robust craft itself sitting tucked away in a nearby service bay. "But she's flight ready, and we had some ordnance we were able to adapt for it so she won't be going in with racks empty."

Suddenly, overhead, a high pitch tone echoed out from the announcement speakers.

"Attention all hands, attention; pass the word to Commander Kelso; contact CIC."

Glancing over at Culver, the Major quickly ushered Kelso over to a handset mounted on the bulkhead of a service bay.

"Kelso," said the Commander simply as he held the handset to his ear.

"Commander, Major Burke, all our birds are back aboard."

"Very good, Major, go ahead and begin jump prep. Execute as soon as all stations report secure."

"Aye, Commander."

"Things really seem to be picking up in pace around here," sighed Culver as he glanced around at the deck gang moving the last couple Raptors into their service bays.

"That they are, Major," replied Kelso, smirking a bit as he hung the handset back up and looked around at the activity himself. "I guess the gods thought we were resting a little too much on our laurels, decided to throw some extra drama our way."

"The gods, sir?" muttered Culver, glancing back over at Kelso somewhat quizzically. "Forgive me for saying as much, Commander, but I hadn't figured you to be a man of the Scriptures."

"Metaphorically speaking, Major," amended Kelso as he continued to make his way through the hangar deck.

Just then, one of the hatches off to one side of the hangar deck opened, disgorging a neat line of heavily clad Marines out into the area, Captain Gaines squarely in the lead.

"Gaines!" snapped Culver.

As the Captain looked over in their direction, Culver motioned towards the two Raptors being prepared for launch nearby. Nodding, Gaines motioned for her team to make their way over to the two Raptors while she quickly stepped over to Culver and Commander Kelso.

"You're early," smiled Kelso as the heavily laden Gaines stepped up.

"Didn't want to risk missing the party, sir," she replied, pausing a moment to look at both Culver and Kelso. "Now, exactly what kind of party are we going to?"

"Search and rescue," replied Kelso, titling his head slightly. "We think."

"Sir?"

"Better to get this all out at once," sighed Kelso as he motioned for Gaines to follow him back over to her waiting Marines.

"Bring it in around the Commander," snapped Gaines as she and the Commander stepped into the service bay where the Marines were assembled.

"Okay, people, listen up," snapped Kelso as he looked out at the Marines. "Now no doubt you've caught wind of some pretty interesting rumors over the last couple of hours. Well, I'm here to tell you the truth might just be more interesting than the fiction, so I have to ask you to keep an open mind."

Noting the curious expressions on the faces of the Marines, Kelso stepped over to a small tool box and spread out a rudimentary map of the moon where they would be going. Motioning the Marines to close in tighter around him, Kelso looked up at Captain Gaines.

"Okay, here's what we know…"

Marine Recon Team
Unknown Moon

Glancing back over her shoulder, Captain Jordan Gaines watched as her team slowly spread out from the two Raptors. As they settled into a wide semi-circle, weapons at the ready, eyes scanning the area around them, Gaines motioned with her hands for the two Raptors to lift off again.

With a whine of their engines, the two craft slowly lifted back into the dark sky and rocketed away to begin loitering until Gaines called for an extraction.

As the whine of the Raptors faded into the distance, Gaines focused her attention back onto the surrounding area. The signal they'd come down to investigate had been triangulated somewhere in the middle of a wide desert plain. Rather than simply dropping down on top of the signal though, the mission plan instead had them to set down in a concealed position within a small canyon fissure running through the area. Night had already begun to fall on this part of the moon, casting eerie shadows amid the sparse vegetation and scattered boulders littering the area.

Although they had no idea who or what might be sending out the signal they were there to trace, from the short briefing Commander Kelso had given to them prior to their deployment, it wasn't hard for Gaines to understand that the imaginations of each member in her team must be running wild.

Hell, her own imagination was ablaze.

A dead human pilot plucked from deep space, an unknown spaceship blasted to rubble.

Gaines shook her head.

No, she needed to keep her attention focused on the here and now.

Boots were on the ground, rifles loaded and rounds chambered; the only thing that mattered right now was what was within firing range.

Snapping her fingers to get their attention, Gaines motioned for her people to form up around her.

"Weapons outboard," whispered Corporal Dwayne Bowman as he and his rifle team settled in around the Captain. "Eyes sharp people."

Looking around, Gaines took a quick head count; twelve Marines total, plus herself made thirteen.

With the concrete possibility of facing at best something unknown, or at worst a Cylon trap, Gaines' recon team had come down from Galactica armed to the teeth. Heavy rifles, a couple MGL's, three missile launchers, frag grenades, and even a few of the nastiest fighting knives Gaines had ever seen.

But somehow it didn't make Gaines feel any better.

Somewhere close by was one of two possible possibilities; human survivors from a destroyed ship, or whatever it was that had apparently blasted that entire spaceship to dust.

"Okay, people, listen up," began Gaines as she looked out at the surrounding area. "It's dark, it reeks of sulfur, and we have no firm idea what we might run into down here. But, that's why the Commander sent us in instead of the flyboys."

Around the circle, a couple of the Marines muttered approvingly at that; when all else failed, stoke the bravado…

"Triangulation says we're ten clicks from the source of the wireless signal," continued Gaines as she slapped a magazine into her rifle. "Now, we have two Raptors loitering off to our West for emergency dust-off and evac; wireless call sign is Deacon. Secondary signal for extraction is a green star cluster."

Glancing around, Gaines was pleased to see that everyone in her team had broken out a notepad and was quickly scribbling down the information she was giving. A couple months sitting idle aboard Galactica may have dulled their edge a bit, but the training, no doubt reinforced by their experiences in Serenity Valley, had ingrained that most fundamental of battlefield truths in them; in a pinch, even a Private needed to be ready to act like a General.

"We have one Scimitar gunship of station for CAS, wireless call-sign is Sierra One-Zero-Five."

Taking a deep breath, Gaines grimaced a bit at the sulfuric stench as she kept looking around at the ever-more stifling darkness.

"Now, we're running heavy with enough firepower spread-load between us to practically crack this moon in half, but, this is about recon, not kill ratios," continued Gaines. "If we can pull this off without being seen by whoever or whatever is creeping around on this rock, all the better, so that means noise and especially light discipline. Red lens lights only, and use them only with my approval. Team leaders, each of you has a squad wireless; birds overhead will be monitoring our progress on channel one-five."

"Now, I know we've been pounding the decks for six months but now it's time to get our boots dirty again. Shake off the garrison mentality and keep your heads in the game. We'll move out single column, five meter dispersion between each Marine. Corporal Bowman, since you have the locator, your team is on point."

"Aye, Captain."

"Okay people, we move in five mikes, between now and then, give each other a final check on your gear, make sure everything is secure; no time on this mission to go back if you drop your lucky lighter in the dark."

With that, each of the Marines in her recon force began checking each other over one last time, ensuring each strap, each button snap, each pouch was secure.

As Corporal Bowman finished checking her gear over, Gaines looked up and watched as the distant light of the setting sun continued to fade beyond the horizon.

As she did so, Gaines felt a lingering foreboding begin to lick the edges of her consciousness.

The terrain was decidedly uninviting with several active volcanoes dotting the far away mountains on the horizon. Moreover, the sparse vegetation and barren, inhospitable desert was far removed from the lush forest of the last world upon which she'd set foot. And yet, as she watched the fading glow beyond those fiery pyres on the horizon, the stars overhead beginning to twinkle in the curtain of impending night, Gaines was seized by the memory of that last terrible time she and her Marines had watched a sunset.

On a dying world untold light-years away, in a valley and a township called Serenity…

Night had brought no sanctuary, no respite there, only death. And try as she might not to, so many months later, Captain Jordan Gaines could still hear the last terrible screams of those that had never lived to see the sun rise again.

Wrestling herself back away from the horrendous memory, Gaines glanced over as her Marines began spreading into a long line.

"All right people, line of departure, lock and load," she snapped, yanking angrily on the action of her rifle, cycling the first round into the chamber.

As each member of the team likewise chambered their first round, Gaines made a quick motion with her hand, signaling for her Marines to move out.

As the line of Marines began taking their first tentative steps into the night, quickly making their way out of the ravine onto the wide desert plain, Corporal Bowman kept a keen eye on the direction finder cradled in his hands, the device locked in on the frequency of the wireless beacon that had prompted their mission down to this hellish ball of rock.

As they made their way across what to Gaines' mind was the most desolate, uninviting terrain she had ever known, she did have to concede at least one good thing; in terrain as barren and featureless as this, her team would be able to make very good time.

And indeed, they did.

Nevertheless, as her team continued to move about in the stifling darkness, Gaines still felt uneasy.

And in very short order, the Fate seemed to offer up a very good reason for her to feel that way.

After covering nearly three kilometers across the plain, Gaines was surprised when the call came down along the line to come to a halt. Waiting, Gaines watched as her team instinctively spread out, turning their weapons outboard as they dropped to a knee.

For a few moments, no word came as to exactly why they'd come to a halt. Had the point man come across some terrain obstacle? Had the direction finder Bowman had with him lost its lock on the signal?

The longer they sat there, the more concerned Gaines started to feel.

"Junkyard-Six, this is Lead; you'd better get up here."

It was Bowman's voice that had filtered in over the squad frequency.

Her rifle ready, eyes scanning not only the horizon, but also the few feet in front of her, Gaines made her way forward along the formation.

"Okay, Corporal what…" began Gaines as she stepped up.

But as she reached the point, Captain Gaines stopped. To one side, the lead man in the formation, a Private who'd been part of Galactica's original Marine security detail, not one of her relative 'veterans' from Serenity Valley, was slumped over near a boulder retching his guts out.

Bowman stood silent, his arms hanging at his sides.

Gaines' weariness only deepened.

"Corporal Bowman?" she muttered again, her eyes on the heaving shoulders of the vomiting Marine. "What's the hold-up?"

"I think you'd better see for yourself, Captain," replied Bowman evenly, making a slight motion with his head towards something along their path.

Moving up next to him, Gaines looked down on the ground, following Bowman's gesture towards a heap lying amid the rocks. Although at first she couldn't distinguish anything more than a cluster medium sized boulders littering the area, Gaines soon caught a scent being carried on the low breeze.

Decaying flesh, the sickening metallic scent of blood, human blood…

For a moment, she almost felt as though she were going to throw up herself.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is," she whispered softly as her eyes focused in a little more from the fresh adrenaline coursing into her bloodstream.

"Afraid I can't do that, Captain," muttered Bowman gently as he handed her his flashlight.

Taking hold of the flashlight, Gaines glanced around at the horizon, looked back at the objects, turned on the light, then cast the beam of red light towards it, and indeed almost retched at what she saw...

Her hand shaking slightly as she fought back against the gagging she felt, Gaines saw a body lying on the ground.

She had seen bodies before, some riddled with bullet holes, others torn apart in explosions, but nothing as brutal or horrid as this…

Methodically, viciously, the body had been butchered, decapitated, limbs severed, the torso splayed open.

No, even worse…

There wasn't just one body.

The beam of light shaking from her quaking hand, Gaines saw that there were at least a dozen bodies lying about, all mutilated with equal viciousness, little more than horrid, shredded pieces littering the desert ground.

"What the frak?" she muttered in disgust.

Cautiously, Bowman stepped forward.

Gaines almost called for him to stop, but she found she was fighting her instinctual reflex to gag too much to fully form the words.

Kneeling down beside one of the bodies, Bowman picked up a couple objects and then made his way back over to Gaines.

"What have you got?" she muttered, her forehead covered in sweat that had nothing to do with the moon's sweltering heat.

"Looks like some sort of weapon," muttered Bowman as he held up one of the objects.

"Anything else?" said Gaines between steadying breaths.

"Some fabric with a patch on it, maybe a unit emblem of some sort," replied Bowman as he held the other object up in the light.

Looking down, Gaines saw a piece of torn fabric with a rectangular patch affixed to it; white in overall color, with three blue stars and a blue circle, and liberally stained with blood.

Reaching over, Gaines took hold of both the weapon and the fabric, and curiously, felt the stirring hint of kinship form within her.

These people, whoever they had been, had been humans; moreover, they'd been soldiers.

"This looks like a fighting position," said Bowman as he looked back over at the bodies. "They must have died in the defense."

Looking back over at the macabre scene, Gaines couldn't argue with Bowman's assessment.

"Must have been at close quarters; they had bayonets fixed," muttered Gaines as she held up the large blade attached to the end of the weapon. "Any sign of who it was they were fighting?"

"Nothing concrete, Captain," sighed Bowman. "A few tracks, maybe, but if they took any out, the bodies must have been removed by whoever…"

"By whoever butchered them," finished Gaines angrily as she clenched her fist around the torn shred of fabric with the patch.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Gaines saw that the Private who'd been throwing up off to the side had more-or-less composed himself.

"What are we going to do, Captain?" asked the Marine weakly as he stepped up.

Taking a deep breath, Gaines gently tested the weight of the unfamiliar weapon in her hands, then slung it over her shoulder.

"We still have a mission to complete," she sighed.

"What about the bodies, Captain?" asked Bowman as he motioned his head over at them. "Shouldn't we at least burry them?"

"Trust me, Corporal, I understand what you're trying to say," replied Gaines as she unclenched her fist and looked down at the patch once more. "But we're still on the bottom end of the learning curve here; those bodies could be booby-trapped, or they could be under surveillance by whoever slaughtered them. In any event, I'm not keen on staying here when we have no idea who or what did this. Do you still have a lock on the signal?"

Nodding slightly, Bowman held up the direction finder.

"Still coming in loud and clear, Captain," said Bowman evenly.

"With all due respect, Captain, we can't just leave them like this," sighed the Marine Private as he stood looking over at the shredded bodies.

"We don't have a choice, Private," replied Gaines evenly as she gently took hold of the Marine's shoulder. "At this point, the less evidence we leave of our having been here, the better, at least until we have a better idea of exactly what is happening here."

Giving the young Marine's shoulder one last pat, she gently nudged him forward towards Bowman.

"Let's move it out, Corporal Bowman," she said evenly.

With a nod, Bowman lifted his rifle up and stepped off again across the wide plain.

Staying in place, Gaines watched as her Marines slowly filed by. A few paused to look at the scene of carnage. With a look of understanding, Gaines nevertheless nudged for each to continue on their way. When the last of her team finally filed by, Gaines took one last look at the mangled bodies lying in the dust, their life-blood having long since been absorbed into the dust of this forsaken moon.

Unslinging the unfamiliar weapon that Bowman had picked up and given to her, Gaines once again tested it in her hands.

The weight, the feel…

Stepping over to the bodies, Gaines took the weapon and jammed the end with the bayonet firmly into the ground.

Stepping back, Gaines bowed her head and whispered a prayer she had learned as a child, one of the few times she had done such in her adult life.

Her prayer done, Gaines looked at the fabric and emblem she still held in her hand.

Taking a deep breath, she put the fabric into the cargo pocket on her thigh then jogged off after her team.

Quickly catching up, she resumed her place in the formation as they continued off across the barren plain.

As they continued to move forward, Gaines noticed that the main planet the moon orbited around had begun to rise over the horizon.

Ironic; the planet the moon orbited around had now begun to reflect light from the star down onto its own moon, for some reason the reversal of roles struck Gaines as odd somehow.

Gaines shook her head.

She hated thinking about any irony that seemed to border on paradox, it tended to give her a headache if she dwelled on it too long.

Nevertheless, the low light cast by the planet added some shadows and details to the barren landscape ahead.

As the team reached the approximate mid-way point, five kilometers, Gaines motioned for the team to halt.

"Five minutes, people," she said as she made her way forward along the formation. "Hydrate and check your gear."

A few nodded in response as they dropped to a knee. They may have been taking a rest, but each Marine nevertheless kept a keen eye on the dimly lit landscape, and with good reason. None of them said as much, but she knew each much have still been thinking about the grisly scene only a couple kilometers back.

She certainly was thinking about it.

"Halfway there, Captain," said Bowman as he finished taking a deep drink from his canteen.

Looking out across the plain, Gaines gently nodded her head.

"Signal still coming in strong?"

"Not a waver, Captain," replied Bowman as he slipped his canteen back into its carrier.

Looking off in the direction her team had been heading, Gaines felt a lump begin to form in her throat. With the rising planet now casting a measure of light out across the area, she could see that while the majority of the plain, stretching from one volcanic range to another, was little more than a flat dust bowl, there was at least one major terrain feature.

A small rise, likely thrust up through the crust by the seismic activity, sat within the vast stretch.

"Let me guess," muttered Gaines as she motioned her head towards the hill.

Lifting up the locator, Bowman looked at the display, then nodded.

"Affirmative, Captain," he sighed, looking out at the hill himself. "Whoever, whatever, is sending out that signal, it's coming from that hill."

As she stood looking at the hill, Gaines took several deep breaths, coughing a bit from the sulfur wafting in from the distant volcanoes.

"This moon sucks," she muttered, still coughing a bit.

"Can't argue with you on that, Captain," replied Bowman evenly. "But like you said; we've got a mission."

"Anything to get off the 'Big-G' for a while, eh?" smiled Gaines as she cast a sidewise glance over at Bowman.

"Nasty or not, got to admit, feels good to have real dirt under the boots," said Bowman as she kicked at a stone. "But all things being equal, it still doesn't compare to the beaches of Cap-City."

"I just can't help but wonder if those soldiers we stumbled across back there had the same thought," countered Gaines somewhat glumly.

Nodding a bit, Bowman returned his attention to the hill.

"Here, see what you can see with these," muttered Gaines as she pulled a pair of night vision from her gear and handed them to Bowman.

Holding them for a moment, Bowman looked over at Gaines somewhat dubiously.

"Don't worry, these ones have fresh batteries," said Gaines, noting the look on Bowman's face as she pulled out her own canteen.

Turning them on, Bowman lifted the night vision to his eyes. In the garish green hues of the night vision, there was a significant amount of detail now in view.

Looking over at the hill, Bowman didn't really expect to see anything, not at their current distance at least; these night vision goggles didn't have any real magnification to them.

But as he stood there, Bowman thought he saw some movement in the shadows on the peak of the hill. But before he could say anything, Bowman heard the wireless headset crackle to life.

"Junkyard-Six, Junkyard-Six, this is Deacon."

It was one of the Raptors that had dropped them off.

"This is Six, go ahead Deacon," replied Gaines as she toggled the switch for her wireless set.

"Be advised, we are loitering twenty-seven clicks from dust-off point to your Southwest. We're currently tracking four unknowns on DRADIS, coming in low from your due South at this time."

"Have they spotted you?"

"Doesn't look like it; we're hanging low in the terrain so they might not have a fix on us, but they are coming your direction."

"Bowman!" snapped Gaines as she quickly set her eyes towards the direction indicated by the Raptors.

Shifting his own attention and the night vision goggles to the South, Bowman began scanning the horizon.

Shaking his head slightly, Bowman toggled his own wireless.

"Deacon, can you give us a range on the contacts?"

"Approximately twenty-five kilometers, closing in fast."

"There, low on the horizon at eleven o'clock," snapped Gaines as she caught sight of four small lights moving through the sky.

Shifting his gaze to the area indicated by Gaines, Bowman caught sight of the four craft.

"Hard to tell for sure at this range, Captain," began Bowman as he handed the night vision over to Gaines. "But I don't think those are ours."

"No, they're much too big," noted Gaines as she looked at them through the night vision herself. "Don't look Cylon, either."

"Well, that's a relief," muttered Bowman sardonically.

"They are coming this way, though," continued Gaines as she dropped the night vision back away from her eyes.

"Thoughts, Captain?" asked Bowman simply. "Shall we go into a hasty defense?"

Her eyes not leaving the four objects skimming in towards her team, Gaines nodded her head.

"Pull it in!" snapped Bowman as he bounded off a bit back towards the rest of the recon team. "Get online here!"

As Gaines listened to her people rushing to form a small defensive line, her mind flashed with the image of the slaughtered bodies. Did the closing aircraft have any connection to whoever had killed those soldiers? If so, why so had they been butchered so brutally?

But perhaps most important of all, did they know her team was here? What would they do if they did?

Somehow she doubted they'd simply stop in to say 'hi'.

"Corporal Bowman?"

"Captain?"

"How many missiles did we bring with us?"

"Three, Captain."

"Prep one," snapped Gaines as she watched the lights continue to close in. "Just in case."

"Aye, Captain."

"Junkyard-Six…is…con," crackled the wireless.

Pressing the headset closer to her ear, Gaines tried to hear what it was the Raptors were saying, but the channel soon became obscured in static.

"Say again, Deacon, you are broken and unreadable," said Gaines.

Static…

"Deacon, this is Junkyard-Six, say again your last transmission," said Gaines, glancing over at Bowman.

Again, nothing but static.

Nodding her head to Bowman, she listened as he attempted to contact Deacon, but he had no more success.

"Frak, we've lost wireless!" snapped Gaines as she quickly jogged over to where her team had set up their line. "Missile?"

"Forty-five seconds, Captain," snapped the Marine who was hefting the launch tube up onto her shoulder.

"Shave that," said Gaines as she dropped down to one knee and looked back over at the three closing craft.

"Not me, Captain," replied the gunner, shaking her head slightly. "Takes that long for the batteries to cool the heat tracker."

Taking a deep breath, Gaines reflexively pulled the bolt of her rifle back, ensured a round was in the chamber, then looked back over at the four craft.

By now, they'd closed in enough that there was a low hum filling the air, presumably from the craft themselves.

As she watched them close, heard the hum grow even louder, Gaines flexed her fingers around the grips of her weapon.

"Bowman?"

"Sahn?" snapped Bowman as he stepped up to the two-man missile team.

"Thirty seconds," replied the gunner as she settled her eye in behind the aiming reticule.

"Clear back blast!" snapped the a-gunner as he looked around to ensure no other Marines had settled in to the rear of the missile tube.

As the Marine recon team sat poised, all their eyes locked on the four closing objects in the sky, Gaines continued to flex her fingers impatiently around the rifle grips.

"System active," called Lance Corporal Sahn.

"Sight in on the center craft, the large one," said Bowman as he sidled up next to her on the opposite side from the a-gunner.

"Target acquired," said Sahn a moment later.

"Back blast area, all clear," called the a-gunner as he gave Sahn's shoulder a quick slap.

"Hold till I give the order to fire!" burst Gaines as she slowly brought her rifle up.

Watching, poised, the entire line of Marines watched as the four craft came racing in, straight towards them.

"Captain?" called Sahn urgently.

"Hold that missile," replied Gaines, her teeth clenched tight as she watched the craft continue to close.

Lifting the night vision back to her eyes, Gaines swallowed hard.

Four craft, three smaller ones and one large, all much larger than a Viper or a Raptor, no visible cockpit, no visible weapons either. The three smaller ships all had the same three-wing configuration, each wing equilateral to one another, the larger ship tucked in formation behind them, its main forward section vaguely wedge shaped.

And they were getting damned close.

Dropping the night vision back away from her eyes, Gaines brought her weapon to her shoulder and aimed in. What damage rifle fire might do to the four craft was unclear, but reflexively, it felt better than simply sitting there helpless in the dirt.

"Hold," hissed Gaines as the craft streaked in, the hum of what she presumed were their engines almost drowning out her voice.

In her mind, Gaines had just one thought; it's now or never, the craft either knew they were there or they didn't…

If they did, they were more than close enough to begin strafing their position, the next few seconds…

"Captain?" prodded Sahn adamantly.

But even before Gaines could answer, the four craft shot by overhead, the dust kicked up by their low level flight washing in over Gaines and her people.

Even as her sight was partially obscured by the dust, Gaines looked back, peering through the dust cloud at the craft as they continued to race away.

With the hum in the air fading and the dust settling back down, Gaines was able to catch a glimpse of the craft as they continued to fly away, straight towards…

"Bowman?" snapped Gaines.

"Uh-huh," nodded Bowman as he too watched the retreating craft. "Right towards the source of the signal, Captain."

"SAR team maybe?" offered Gaines.

But even before Bowman could take a breath to answer, the night sky lit up.

The dust now mostly settled, Captain Jordan Gaines and her Marines watched as the three smaller craft began a strafing run around the hill they themselves had been heading towards. Unleashing a withering barrage, the three smaller craft raced in tight circles around the hill, pounding the slopes with punishing weapons fire as the larger ship slowly settled onto the desert floor near the hill's base.

Popping up to her feet, Gaines watched the continued bombardment, her already racing heart skipping a few beats as she took a few shocked steps forward.

"What the frak is going on here, Captain?" muttered one of her Marines; she wasn't sure which one offhand.

"I have no idea," she muttered.

Taking a deep breath, Gaines' eyes went wide, her heart pounding in her chest as the three strafing craft unleashed yet another punishing barrage around the hill.

"But we're not leaving till we find out," she finally said.

Turning back to her team, Gaines motioned for them to get back to their feet.

"Secure that missile," began Gaines as she watched her people start moving back into formation. "We'll move in as close as we can, try and get a handle on what this whole fraked up business is about."

Within moments, the missile team had unlocked the targeting scope from the launch tube. Stowing both back away on their packs they quickly joined the others in the formation.

"Ready to move, Captain," snapped Bowman as he jogged up along the line back to the point.

A bright flash of light pierced the night sky, followed moments later by the loud crack of an explosion.

"Let's move it people," snapped Gaines as she motioned the line of Marines forward.

Forward across the plain, towards the sounds of battle; forward into the unknown.