Unknown star system.
75th Day, Season of Spring, 7352nd Year of Time
4th yahren of the Great Exodus

Adama's Journal

We are almost a yahren past our last battle with the Cylons, when we lost the Battlestar Pegasus. There has been only one encounter since, which makes us believe that we have passed beyond the far boundary of Cylon space.

Today marks the fourth anniversary of the destruction of our homeworlds. This day has no special name yet, as the events it commemorates are too raw and painful, but most people refer to it as 'The Fall'. Already traditions have emerged. In the assembly hall of the Galactica, our people have taken to placing likenesses of those that they lost with memorial lights. I went to place images of Zac and Lia, only to find Apollo and Athena already there. Since my likenesses were older, they allowed mine to be placed, but insisted on the extra memorial lights. Later I saw many images with multiple memorial lights. I think that each individual family member placing a memorial light for a loved one will become the custom. I approve of this, because everyone should have the option of signifying their personal grief.

The Quorum of Twelve has been especially contentious of late. The current Quorum, having been elected in the wake of the Prison Barge Incident, has virtually no political experience, and as a consequence, their arguments have become increasingly vocal over trivia.

Three time-cycles ago, after the fourth tied vote - on the proper distribution of excess luxury clothing, of all idiotic things - I invoked the Law of the Presidium, calling for the President to stand down, and a new member-at-large to be elected to the Quorum for a one-yahren period who would be invested with the position of President. They tried to call it to a vote, but I was able to show that after three or more tied votes, it was mandatory under the Law of the Colonies and not itself subject to a vote. And as I pointed out, it amounted to a reduction of my martial-law authority. They liked that. The next time-cycle, the Fleet elected Siress Tinia of Aquaron, the only ex-Quorum member untainted by the Prison Barge Incident, as President.

Tinia is an intelligent and insightful woman and has a very strong notion of civilian prerogatives, but she is rather abrasive. It may be that after the Prison Barge Incident, her attitude toward the military may have mellowed somewhat. But I take comfort in the knowledge that she has half a century of political experience, more than all the current Quorum combined, and their childish games mean nothing to her. So now that I have locked the children in a cage with a wild beast, I can relax for a while.

I weary of the pettiness and surreal nature of politics. I know from history that my ancestors - the High Lords of Caprica - were actually bred and trained from birth to deal with these matters for their entire lives. I give my ancestors my pity. All but Sire Agathon, who was the last true High Lord of Caprica and who served as the first Representative of Caprica to the Quorum. He was obviously a very smart man, to have cleverly divested himself and his descendants of the burden of ruling a world.

I am finding some difficulty in maintaining a state of alertness among the civilian population. I know from history that many tyrants rose to power using a climate of fear, and I wish to avoid the conditions that allow that to happen. This is why I've taken advantage of this prolonged peaceful interlude to relax martial law somewhat. But conversely, keeping the civilians ready for defense without an immediate Cylon threat is troublesome. I hope we are beyond the Cylons' reach, but that doesn't mean that other menaces don't lurk among these unknown stars.

Out of a patch of null-space, three Colonial Vipers erupted.

"Okay rookies," Lieutenant Starbuck said over the comline. "We're looking for a jump point. We first find the plane of the system. We do that by first finding planets, comets, asteroids - shiny things. Normally you should resist being distracted by shiny things, but this time - "

"Excuse me, sire?"

"Ident sign, Warrior!"

The trainee warrior made a squeaking sound and replied, "Blue-three, Cadet Palyma, sire!"

"And what do you want, Blue Three?"

"Shouldn't we look for habitable planets, sire?"

"No. We're scouts, we scout. We just find the route we'll take and return with the charts. The science ships will take care of finding habitable worlds."

Another voice spoke up, "Blue-two, Cadet Hercula, sire. Why don't they send the science ships to do this, then?"

Starbuck snorted. "And if they pop out in the middle of a Cylon attack force? They get splattered, the fleet gets no warning, and an unnecessary number of people become kill-marks on a Cylon's blaster-haft."

"So we get killed instead?"

The contempt in Starbuck's voice was thick enough to spread with a knife. "We're Colonial Warriors! It's our job to get shot at so our people can live! If you can't take that, infant, climb back into your mama's womb!"

Blue-Two gulped. "S-Sorry, sire!"

Starbuck huffed. "No, I am. I shouldn't have snapped like that. I had to pay a hundred cubits for my last fumarello, you know. And I can't risk smoking the entire thing at once!"

"Oh poor fumar-leaf addict. A pity that we can only raise useful plants on the agro-ship instead of recreational narcotics."

"What was that?"

"Um - static, sire!"

From Explorer Corps Guide to the Northern Periphery
ComStar Internal Document, updated 25/10/2993

System Name: Botany Bay
Coordinates: -179.43, 487.44
Star Type: K1V
Position in System: 2
Time to Jump Point: 5.48 days
Recharging Station: None
Population: 1,000,000 +/- 50,000
Percentage and Level of Native Life: 70% Reptilian, 10% Mammal

Former Rim Worlds Republic member world, briefly occupied by the Lyran Commonwealth during the First Succession War The main export market was industrial silicates, which has dried up with the collapse of reliable interstellar transport.

Despite the lack of natural resources, the indigenous population has maintained a surprisingly high level of civilization ...

Arcology of Singh
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
November 11, 2999 AD - RWR Independence Day

Planetary Defense Chief Vince MacRuder looked out on his forces as they went past for the Independence Day Parade. The population - all one million of them - was watching his face on the planetary holo-network. It wouldn't do to weep in public.

Two Padilla Heavy Artillery Tanks, six Thor Artillery Combat Vehicles, two Zero Light AeroSpace Fighters flying overhead, and five thousand infantry. And that was it - the entirety of the Botany Bay Colonial Defense Militia.

No BattleMechs had served in a hundred years. The planet's last IndustrialMech had been equipped with armor and autocannon/10's ninety years ago, only to be ripped apart during it's only outing against pirates. And the pirates always seemed to have more BattleMechs.

Every three years on the average, pirate bands attacked, DropShips plunging down on their arcologies, BattleMechs marching in the streets. And every time, half to two-thirds of the militia died. Their two ASFs were built out of the wreckage of ten others, and the Padillas only existed because their lostech systems allowed them to stay away from combat while delivering their missile payloads. And they were down to their last hundred irreplaceable Arrow IV laser-guided missiles.

The only shield that the people of Botany Bay had against the pirates was the Defense Militia. And they were as useful as wet tissue paper. One, two, maybe three more raids, and they would have nothing to fight back with. And once the pirates knew they could not be even ineffectually resisted, they wouldn't raid anymore - they would simply come and never leave.

Perhaps ten years of relative freedom left. if they were lucky. After that, how long before the pirates had used up the Botanean people, shipped all the useful slaves off, stripped what little industrial infrastructure still existed, and allowed the rest of the population to die of disease and starvation?

Planetary Defense Chief Vince MacRuder was a master of looking firm and resolute, of hiding the despair in his soul. He had a lot of practice.

As the parade finished and MacRuder stepped off the platform, his yeoman, Lieutenant Rand, came up behind him. "OC matter, sir," she said.

He nodded calmly as they walked to the private car. In the priority codes of the Defense Militia, OC meant 'unknown but potentially dangerous circumstance'. As they got into the car and drove off, Yeoman Rand gave her report. "Ten minutes ago, an anomalous EM reading was recorded. The signature was similar to a K-F Drive signature but very weak, almost on the limit of detectability. The position corresponds to a pseudo-point - not a real pirate point - in the rimward area of the system. Spectroscopic exam of the area indicated three flares of unknown type moving through the system at eleven gees acceleration. Based on their motion, they will pass within two hundred thousand klicks of Botany Bay in eight-point-two-five hours."

"Anything in the warbook?"

"Nothing significant."

MacRuder looked at her coldly. "I will decide what is significant. What did the warbook say?"

Rand looked embarrassed. "The warbook gave a Code Zulu alert. It's obviously some glitch."

The warbook - the ancient computer programs plus the database of Star League sensor data - allowed identification of any ship or weapon system known to the Star League. And MacRuder knew what Code Zulu meant to the warbook. It was the first thing looked up by everyone who had access to the warbook databases. It was included in the program for when no other match could be made.

'Code Zulu' meant 'Alien / Nonhuman Spacecraft'.

MacRuder picked up the car's phone. "MacRuder here. Set a maximum alertness drill for three hours from now, lasting six hours." He checked his spaceflight charts. "Our Zeros at four gees can intercept at eight-point-one mega-klicks in eight hours, if we outfit it with drop tanks and booster rockets for deep flight. Send Zero Alpha out."

"Chief?"

"I want a look at those things as far from the planet as possible. If they're hostile, we can attack them out there or with Zero Beta."

"Aye, sir."

Deep Space, Botany Bay System
November 11, 2999 AD
75th Day, Season of Spring, 7352nd Year of Time
4th yahren of the Great Exodus

Blue Flight was flying on autopilot. The flight profile was routine - zip through the system at ten gees acceleration, loop the sun, go back to the null-space. This would take most of a time-cycle, so the Viper pilots spent the bulk of the time in flight slumber with sensors recording and alarms ready to sound.

And they sounded at Mission plus six centars.

Lieutenant Starbuck was the first awake, with the two cadets just a bit behind.

"Listen up, Blue Flight. Sensors have a drive-flare - it looks like an alien ship under power. Flare indicates an old-style mag-fusion system, like a Fourth Millennium ship. Decelerating at three-point-six gees, it'll intercept us in two centars. You know what that means?"

Cadet Palmya answered, "An attack?"

"Do you decelerate to make an attack on a spaceship, Cadet? I hope not."

In the embarrassed silence, Starbuck answered, "Meeting us halfway means they want to talk but are nervous about us getting too close to their world. We can respect that. Switch on the languatrons, set the com-sensors on omni-band to pick up every possible broadcast. If there are any broadcasts in the system, that should allow us to get enough of their language in two centars to at least ask if they have grog. Blue-Three, since you're anxious to attack ships that are decelerating, we'll get you out of here. Return to the Galactica at best speed and give a Code Prometheus. Blue-Two, you remember the rest of the Prometheus Protocols regarding interception by non-hostile alien ships?"

Cadet Herculea stammered a bit, then recited, "Send out langua-code transmission to facilitate translation. Meet at zero relative. Maximize vocal communications to allow languatron to develop a database. Keep force field positive but don't shoot first. Accept invitations if offered. Make neither wagers nor promises."

"Good girl. You'll go far."

Captain Juliet Moreland in the ASF Zero Alpha wanted to gasp as the acceleration pressed her into her gee-seat. Despite the gee-suit and the acceleration drugs, it was still like being crushed by a hundred-kilo weight for six hours. And despite the fact that she had heat-sinks where a production-run Zero would have a LRM-10 and ammo, it was still an oven in the cockpit. The things she did for the Beebe!

But she wouldn't have passed it up for anything.

As the information feed from Militia Control kept babbling in her ear, it confirmed the alien identity of the objects. Sensors indicated that the drive flare of the Zulu probes corresponded to no known propulsion system and they were invisible to radar and lidar. One of the probes looped around and headed back the way it came at one-hundred-ten gees acceleration. The other two were now decelerating, ready to meet her at zero relative.

If she weren't having the life crushed out of her, she would have been fidgeting in excitement.

"Calling Zero Alpha," a voice from Militia Control sounded in her ear. "Still can't identify what that engine is, but we've got a good reading of the thrust and mass. They mass a bit over fourteen tons each. As fighters I think they would be classed as ultra-light if there were such a thing. The consultants think that they're automated probes launched from a ship at the pseudo-point. They've been transmitting at us for ten minutes now. It appears to be a binary-code-based translation program. It has vocabulary and a table of basic measures for time, distance, and mass. Close match to the MKS system but not exact. We'll look it over, see if we can add a database of English, and download it into your system. It if works, you should be able to talk to them to a degree. Since there's going to be a fifty-four-second transmission lag, you are now appointed by Parliament and the Big Chief as de facto Ambassador of the Republic of Botany Bay. The Chief says you can expect a half-step rise in pay grade. Maybe a small bonus."

"Nice of you," she grunted. "I can spend it on a new wheelchair. I better get a [i]statue[/i] out of this, you tool-tuggers!"

United Colonial Battlestar Galactica
"Rag Tag Fleet"
75th Day, Season of Spring, 7352nd Year of Time

Corporal Rigel reported, "Colonel, getting a message from Blue-Three."

Colonel Tigh frowned at that. "Blue Flight isn't due back for for another half a time-cycle." In the four yahren since the Fall of the Colonies, it had become a truism that if anything was off-schedule or unexpected, it was usually bad. "Put it on speaker."

"This is Blue-Three from Blue Flight, reporting to Galactica. Galactica respond. Oh Lords, come on already!"

Tigh grunted. "Cadet flight. Rookies are so excitable." He picked up his microphone. "Blue-Three, this is Galactica. Are you going to report any particular action code or are you going to just jabber like a primate?"

"Sorry sire - Blue Flight reporting Code Prometheus. Repeating - Code Prometheus."

"That's better. Report to Galactica for debriefing, Cadet."

"Yes, sire. Thank you, sire. I appreciate this -"

Tigh switched it off, shaking his head. "The tragedy of youth - the best thing about it is that you grow out of it." He opened the comline to the Commander's office. "Tigh to Adama."

"Lieutenant Athena here."

"Lieutenant. Where is your father?"

"Attending Boxey's Junior Triad Game with Apollo aboard the Orphanage Ship. We filed his schedule."

"Hades," Tigh muttered to himself. He remembered reading that now. "Well, we have a Code Prometheus in the next system. Starbuck's handling it, and we have a pilot to debrief. I can fill the Commander in on his next duty shift."

"Hold it. You're letting Starbuck handle First Contact with unknown aliens?"

"He is the ranking officer on site. I admit it sounds worse than -"

"I'll contact Father and Apollo immediately!"

Tigh shook his head. Starbuck may not be the ideal officer, but he was a proven leader and as such he had a good feel for what made people tick. It just took some effort to get him to use it for something besides gambling. Athena had less trust for Starbuck, but that was because of their ... rather complicated past.

Tigh gave over the command and began to make his way to Landing Bay Alpha. He had to get some information for the report for the Commander and the Quorum.