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Its a bad day for the Maytag Man.  Wonder if Father Daniel is downloading, blowing up & getting shunted to the next ship over & over- wouldn't that freak him out

Dramatic, crazy....

“Commander,” Tom said softly, and Mathias nodded. 

“I know, Colonel Jayne,” he said as he looked at the clock.  Four hours and forty-two minutes.  He had stayed longer than he should have—but still Sidewinder hadn’t turned up.  And if hadn’t, then he couldn’t.  And that meant two more irreplaceable people—two good people—were dead and gone.

Six Raptors other than Sidewinder had not returned from the mission, but Jester had confirmed that the Styx had been destroyed—and that Sidewinder had all but rammed a Nova with an armed nuke aboard; that ship had been destroyed as well.  He had held out hope that the veteran pilot had jumped clear at the last moment—Mathias had held out that hope.  But they had waited for two hours and forty-two minutes without a single contact on DRADIS.  And the flotilla was waiting.

“Colonel Jayne,” he ordered with a sigh.  “Spin up FTL Drives One and Two.  Set coordinate for rendezvous with the flotilla.  You have the Conn,” and he walked out of CIC.

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Tom said to his back.  “I have the Conn.  Spin up FTL Drives One and Two.  Set coordinates for rendezvous with the flotilla,” he barked.

Mathias wandered through the ship corridors, but he did not head to his stateroom nor to his day-cabin.  Instead he walked into the surgery.  And he crossed the deck to the young woman under the covers, her eyes closed as she lay in the bed—and the other woman who held her hand.

“She’s sleeping, Commander,” Irina said.  “Doctor Bako said she’s going to be just fine—the bullet didn’t hit anything vital.”

Mathias nodded and he looked down on Hope.  And he smiled.  “You did good out there, Digger,” he whispered.  “You brought your squadron through without a single loss—sleep well.”

He turned to go, and then Irina’s voice stopped him.  “Commander,” she said.

He turned around.

“You can stay—if you want.”

Mathias smiled a very tired smile.  “Hope has you, Doctor Toure.  That is all that she needs—take care of her.”

“I will, Sir.”

Mathias walked back out of the surgery and he shook his head.  Stop this, he told himself.  Yes, you lost people—good people.  But there are more good people counting on you.  And he turned to head to the research labs where Doctor Sarris and his team were working with Anders on plotting a course towards the other survivors.  The other Resurrection Ships can wait for another day, he thought.  For now—for now—my people need to know that their sacrifices haven’t been in vain.

And he marched through the corridors with a purpose.

“My gods,” whispered Laura Roslin as she leaned forward onto the conference table.  “They claim that another ship survived, Bill?”

William Adama nodded and he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  “It’s a hell of a coincidence, Madam President,” he said formally.  “And it is possible—possible, mind you—that the flight recorder data and recordings are fabricated,” he scowled.  “We have seen manipulation of recordings by the Cylons before.  And we know that they can use our Raptors.”

Tigh snorted.  “If it isn’t fabricated than that pilot in there has balls of pure tungsten; firing a nuke that close and following it to jump to FTL at the last possible moment—damn if he’s not as crazy as Starbuck.”

Laura frowned.  “Is there anyone aboard the Galactica or Pegasus that might know them?  I mean, if they are Colonial Fleet, someone surely has met them?”

“Madame President,” Lee Adama, newly promoted to command of the Battlestar Pegasus, said, “we had one hundred and twenty Battlestars on active duty before the attack—five times that number including the smaller ships.  Two point seven million people in uniform, for the Fleet alone, that is not counting either the Marines or the Army.  I’ve got their pictures circulating on Pegasus—and the Admiral and Colonel Tigh are doing the same on Galactica—but the odds are, we might not have anyone who knows these two individuals.”

“I see,” Laura said.  “Have they been int- . . .,” she stopped, and then shook her head.  “Debriefed?” she continued.

And Bill smiled slightly.  “They haven’t been mistreated, Madame President.  And no, knowing you, I did not want to begin questioning them until you could be here.”

“Where have they been all this time?” she asked.  “How did they survive—and where are they?”

“Questions we do not yet have the answer to, Madame President,” the Admiral answered again.  “I am holding them in isolation for now—no contact with any of the crew except their guards.”

“Separate from your pet Cylon, Bill?” Laura asked in a frosty voice.

“Separated from Sharon, yes, Madame President.  She might be able to confirm or deny whether or not they are Cylons.”

“If we trust her,” the President snapped.  “She’s a Cylon.”

Bill grunted, not wanting to spark yet another fight over the woman—the Cylon—that had so recently lost her child.  He stood.  “Madame President, if you want to question them yourself, you are welcome to join me.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” she said with a smile as she stood, “I think that I will.”

****************************************************

“So . . . you guys really are Fleet?” the guard asked.

Sidewinder just shook his head and smiled, but Kaboose snorted.  “No, we just decided to steal a Raptor and a nuke and kill a Basestar for the hell of it.”

“No need to get snide about it, jailbait,” the guard spat.  “You’ve been to the Colonies then?”

Silence descended on the room, along with a chill.  And Sidewinder sighed.

“We have—it wasn’t pretty,” he said.  “Where was home, Private?”

“Virgon,” he answered. 

“No shit?  Well, many have we got a surprise for you,” Kaboose perked up.  “You’ll never guess who was running the resis- . . .,” but Sidewinder cut him off as the hatch slowly opened.

“Lieutenant Jamussa,” he snapped.  “I believe that our debriefers are here.”

Colonel Tigh walked in and he glared at the guard and then made a jerking gesture with his head—his eyes promising retribution for holding a conversation with the prisoners.  He was followed by a shorter, stouter, hard-bitten man wearing . . . the insignia of a Rear Admiral?  Son of a bitch, Sidewinder thought.  Then came a woman—a middle-aged woman—wearing a civilian business suit and skirt.  Last, a younger man wearing a Commander’s tabs on his collar, along with a blonde haired Captain wearing the wings of a Viper pilot.

Sidewinder turned to Kaboose.  “Michael,” he whispered, “keep your fracking mouth shut as much as possible.”

“Understood, Sir,” the EWO answered just as quietly.

“I understand,” the old man with glasses said, “that you two are claiming to be pilots from Battlestar Scorpia—you understand that this is a difficult thing to believe?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sidewinder snapped.  “When we left the Colonies two years ago, you were a Commander—not an Admiral, Admiral Adama.”

“Things change, Captain Greene,” Adama answered.  “You have already met Colonel Tigh.  Allow me to introduce Laura Roslin, the President of the Colonies.  Commander Lee Adama of Battlestar Pegasus, and Captain Kara Trace, CAG aboard Galactica.”

“Ma’am,” Sidewinder said to the President.  “Captain Stefan Greene, Lieutenant junior grade Michael Jamussa,” he nodded at Kaboose.

“I believe that you were telling the guard you had a surprise from Virgon, Lieutenant Jamussa?” Laura said with a sweet smile.  “I love surprises.”

Sidewinder sighed.  “Ma’am, Scorpia has recovered a number of survivors from the Colonies—including Virgon.  Prince Hamish, Lord Malcolm, was among them.”

The blond pilot—Kara Thrace—jerked at the mention of survivors from the Colonies, but she got an elbow from Lee Adama and kept her mouth shut.

Laura blinked.  “Really?  I’ve never understood the Virgon fascination with archaic forms of monarchy—but it will make the Virgons in the Fleet happy; if it is true.”

“How about we take this from the beginning,” Adama said.

“Yes, sir,” answered Sidewinder.  “One question first:  where is Admiral Cain?”

Bill Adama pursed his lips and Roslin kept that thin smile on her face.  “Captain Greene,” she said, “Admiral Cain was murdered by a Cylon agent two months ago.  I promoted Admiral Adama to his current rank, and Apollo proved to be the most qualified person available to take command of Pegasus.”

Sidewinder released the breath he was holding.  “That will make things easier once Scorpia and the ships she is escorting arrives,” he said.  But then he shook his head.

“The long story short?  Two years ago, Fleet Headquarters dispatched Scorpia to carry a scientific team to a distant system to research an interesting stellar phenomena.  We returned to the colonies seventeen days ago—which was when we discovered that the Cylons had attacked and the Fleet had been destroyed.  We originally arrived at Typhon Station to find it abandoned with signs of an internal fight—we topped off our tanks and took the remaining supplies; Commander Lorne doesn’t like it when unexplained events happen, Admiral, Madame President.”

“We jumped into Scorpia about an SU out and discovered that the Fleet was gone—the Cylons were on top of us in minutes.  We withdrew, and acting on the advice of one of our scientific personnel, we proceeded to an . . . unsanctioned colony.  Criminals and terrorists, in the most part, but the world had ended.  We came to an agreement and they had a couple of ships—including an old Orion-class Battlestar.”

Saul and Bill both jerked and Sidewinder nodded.  “She’s ancient and she’s small, but she flies and her guns work.  Turns out their leadership had a lead on some more ships,” and Sidewinder pursed his lips.  “Ships that Admiral Cain stripped of their drives and then departed leaving their passengers to die in deep space.”

And at that, even Roslin looked down—Saul winced, and Bill Adama just nodded.

“We recovered the video evidence of the crimes aboard those ships—and the mass suicide of the survivors after Cain left them behind,” Sidewinder paused.  “I believe that Commander Lorne intended to arrest Helena Cain for her crimes if he ever found her.”

Saul Tigh snorted.  “Pegasus outguns a Valkyrie-class ship two-to-one, easily, Captain Greene.”

“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, Colonel; it’s the size of the fight in the dog.  And trust me—all of the Scorpia’s crew has plenty of fight over this . . . atrocity she committed on our own civilians.”

“We had plenty of fuel and supplies—we could have run,” Sidewinder continued, “but Commander Lorne felt we had a duty.  To the survivors.  We went back to the Colonies and by some act of the gods, we managed to make the Cylons pull back—long enough to recover survivors from nearly every world.  There are almost fifty-five hundred aboard the seven ships we have.”

“Including Caprica?” Kara Thrace asked, brushing off Lee’s hand on her arm.  “What about Caprica.”

Sidewinder smiled.  “We’ve got your boyfriend Sam Anders aboard Scorpia, Starbuck,” he said lightly.  “The man cannot stop talking about you.”

And then the smile faded.  “Information from the resistance fighters on the different worlds led us to identify one human-form Cylon—a Brother Cavil, a priest.”

Lee Adama jerked.  “What was that name again?”

“John Cavil,” said Sidewinder.

His face paled.  “Admiral, there is a John Cavil aboard Galactica—he’s conducting services in the chapel.”

“Go,” Bill Adama growled.  And both Lee and Kara took off from the brig at a run.

“We nuked Delphi,” Sidewinder continued, and Laura gasped.

“Did I understand you correctly, Captain Greene?  You used a nuclear weapon on the sacred city of Delphi?”

“Yes, ma’am.  There was a large concentration of Cylons there and Commander Lorne hoped that the sudden death might disrupt their networks—it did, and allowed us to retrieve the survivors.  After that, we jumped out.  We proceeded to a star emitting Ragnar-type radiation, where we thought we could take a moment to gather ourselves and decide on what to do.  But we discovered Cerberus Station—a secret Fleet research base.  Long story short, Admiral Trahn was working with the Cylons—we destroyed Cerberus and the Bezrek-class Aurora joined our flotilla.”

“You’ve got a Bezrek-class Fleet Operations Support vessel in your group?” Saul snapped, his eyes going wide.  “With full tanks and holds?  The industrial fabrication plant?  The tylium processing plant?”

“Far from full, Colonel—but she has enough.”

“Continue,” Bill Adama said.

“The Cavil that we have cooperated with us; he provided us with information that allowed Commander Lorne to identify all known Cylon models—and he informed us that Galactica and Pegasus had survived and were on the run with a sizeable number of civilians.  Using his information, we launched attacks on two of their Resurrection Ships—we got ours, but I don’t know if Scorpia’s attack was successful or not,” and he snorted.  “But considering how agitated they were when my Raptors jumped in, I’d bet the Commander got his as well.”

“Then we misjumped and your pilots found us.”

Laura and Bill looked at each and then the Admiral nodded.  “You know what all of the Cylon infiltrators look like?”

“I do, Sir—I was part of that briefing.”

“And there are Twelve of them?”

“Thirteen, actually,” Sidewinder said.  “Admiral Adama, Madame President, may I speak with you in private?” he asked.

Laura cocked one eyebrow and she looked at Bill.  “Saul, could you give us a minute?” the Admiral asked.

“I’ll be outside with the Marines,” he said, glaring at two prisoners.

Sidewinder waited until the hatch had closed and then he sighed.  “Admiral, check your archival records for a civilian shuttle named Joyita—if Galactica doesn’t have it, Pegasus should.  Scorpia had them, at least.”

“And the records will show us . . . what, exactly, Captain Greene?” Adama asked.

“Look at the passenger manifest—the photos of the passengers, Sir.  I . . .,” he paused.  “I don’t want to go further without proof in hand.  Sir.  I do ask that only you, or the President, examine the records.  No one else, Sir.”

“Very well,” said the Admiral.  He turned to Laura and he shrugged.  And she shook her head.

“I want to believe you, Captain Greene—believe me, I do want to believe you.  But I find it hard to imagine that one ship managed to accomplish so much in such a short time.”

Sidewinder snorted.  “It’s true.  If I were lying, wouldn’t I have come up with something simpler?”

“You might have,” Laura said with that crooked smile of hers.  “Or you might believe that such a convoluted tale might have more credibility.”

There was a rap on the brig hatch and Bill walked over and cracked it; he whispered to Saul outside and then he opened the hatch and Karl Agathon walked in—he looked at the prisoners and he smiled, “Hello Stefan.”

Sidewinder’s face split into a grin.  “Hiya, Karl—been a while.  Those captain’s tabs look good on you.”

“Admiral, Madame President,” Karl said.  “I went through Raptor School with Captain Greene—we were roommates for the EWO course,” he paused.  “I never seen the other officer, but I know Sidewinder.”

Laura blinked and she drew in a deep breath.  Admiral Adama nodded and then he smiled.  “Madame President, I think that we can let them out of the cell, now,” he said with a broad smile.

She nodded, not trusting her throat all of a sudden, and when the cell was unlocked, she walked up and hugged—hugged—Kaboose, as Sidewinder and Helo shook hands and then clapped each other’s shoulders.

“You have no idea, how happy I am that others have survived,” she said.

Kaboose just stood there, and finally he said, “No, ma’am,” and he hugged her back.

Fixed, thanks!

MA

The news that contact had been made with other survivors had spread through the Fleet like wildfire.  It was as if a tremendous burden had been lifted from the shoulders of the survivors—civilians and military alike.  President Roslin had made the announcement—much to the dismay of Gaius Baltar who is running against her in the upcoming election.  But behind closed doors aboard Galactica, not all celebrated.

****************************************************

Bill Adama slammed his fist down on the table and he shoved the copy of the file onto the floor.  Sidewinder knelt down and he placed the papers back within the folder and set it on the table—away from the Admiral.  Laura Roslin looked sick—physically sick.  And Lee Adama; well, the Admiral’s son just swallowed and he closed his copy of the file.

“According to our Cylon defector,” Sidewinder said, emphasizing the word defector, “they have no memory of being Cylons, Admiral.  Madame President.  They were sent into exile because they disagreed with the rest of the Cylons—their memory of that time has been blocked.  Unlike Lieutenant Valerii, who was sent back as a sleeper agent, these four have not been implanted with hidden commands.  They are, for all purposes, human beings.  They have lived their lives as human beings.  They have fought for the Colonies and loved and bled and sacrificed as human beings.  The fact that they are copies of murdered individuals shouldn’t matter.”

“They are Cylons!” Laura snarled, and then she drew in a deep breath.  “Your prisoner,” she as well emphasized that word, “could be lying.  It is what the Cylons do.”

“I don’t think he is, ma’am,” Sidewinder said softly, “and neither does Commander Lorne.  He—and Anders—are being watched closely on Scorpia, but they have not been subjected to the . . .,” Stefan Greene looked away and made himself force down the bile he felt rising in his throat, “the illegal and unconscionable manner in which your prisoners have been treated.”

Laura glared up at the pilot and he stared unwaveringly back into her eyes.  “Torture is illegal under the Articles of Colonization—you had Leoben tortured.  Admiral Cain had Gina Inviere beaten and gang-raped and starved.  Your Lieutenant Valerii was murdered,” and now Adama’s glare joined the Presidents, “and her killer was given what?  Thirty days in hack for unauthorized discharge of a firearm?  Cain’s people tried to rape Helo’s Sharon—and you, Madame President, attempted to force her to have a late-term abortion!”

“She isn’t a person, she’s a Cylon!” Laura snapped.

“That is where you are wrong!” Sidewinder barked right back at the President.  “They think, they feel, they bleed, they know right from wrong, they are human beings just as we are!  That doesn’t mean we aren’t at war with them—it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t kill them to protect ourselves.  They are our enemy—most of them, at least.  Not all of them.  Certainly not the ones who are innocent of planning the attacks and carrying them out!  And even if they are guilty of that crime, their origin doesn’t matter, Madame President!  We hold to our laws and our principles for ourselves, not for them!  Throwing away the rules because we don’t like them?  That’s what the SMF terrorists did, Madame President.  If we are a civilization worth saving, then we have to live by these laws that provide everyone with rights—otherwise, we are just a bunch of barbarians who will gleefully throw away everything we cherish in the name of safety and security and pure blood-lust to see those damned Cylons suffer.”

Laura sat back, and she had this look of absolute disgust on her face.  She opened her mouth, but Lee spoke before she could manage to get out a word.

“He’s right,” Lee said simply.  “Or are you going to sit there and say that Saul Tigh—the man who threw you in the brig, Madame President—is doing anything but what he feels is right to protect this ship and the Fleet?  He’s a drunk and he’s a mean son-of-a-bitch; he is an outright bastard.  But he will lay down his life to protect this small, small band of survivors from the Cylons.  Can you say that he is now the enemy?  Because of something he doesn’t even remember, Madame President?”

Her jaw worked, and Sidewinder could see it in her eyes—the question of you too, Lee?  And then Admiral Adama sighed.  “No,” he said.  “No.  I know Saul Tigh—I know Galen Tyrol.  And gods help us, I know Ellen Tigh.  None of them will pose a threat to the Fleet.”

“They are Cylons!” Laura thundered.

“Whatever else he may be, Laura,” Bill Adama said quietly, “Saul Tigh is an officer in the Colonial Fleet.  And no matter what problems he has had, no matter what he has faced, that is the man he has always been and always will be.  Even if he dies, today, he will die as a loyal human being.  And the best friend I have ever known.  FRACK!” he cursed as he slammed his fist down on the table again.

“We don’t know if they have been programmed—just this word of a Cylon ‘defector’ that we cannot question,” said the President.  “We have to remove them from duty and put them in custody with the other Cylons.”

“And then what?” asked Lee.  “Shove them out an airlock?  Put them on trial?  Charged with what crime?  Being a Cylon unknown even to them?  Baltar will use this against you in the campaign, Madame President—he will say that you had a Cylon working for you as your closest aide ever since Billy’s death.”

“Don’t you even mention him!” she snapped.

“He will, Laura.  And he will paint your aide Tory as the source of all our problems—from your desk to the Cylon hands,” the Admiral said as he rubbed his brow.

“We can hold them without leaking the reason why,” Laura said.

“That is illegal, Madame President,” Sidewinder said.

“I am President of the Twelve Colonies—I have the authority to make these decisions, Captain Greene.”

“No ma’am.  You are bound to the Articles just as everyone of us in uniform that swore an oath—and frankly, you are out of your fracking mind if you think Commander Lorne will follow the orders of someone who ignores the law to suit her own purposes.”

“She is the President of the Colonies,” the Admiral snapped.  “And he will follow my orders!”

“Your orders, Commander Adama?  If they are legal, certainly Commander Lorne will follow them—illegal orders, on the other hand, he will refuse.  As is his duty—as is my duty.  As is your duty.  And yours, Madame President.”

“What if,” began Lee, heading off the rapidly heating confrontation between his father and the President and the Raptor pilot from Scorpia.  “What if we just burn this document?  Pretend that we don’t know about Colonel Tigh, Mrs. Tigh. Chief Tyrol, Ms. Foster.  Or Samuel Anders—think about how Kara is going to react to that,” he said with a wry grin that showed absolutely no humor.

“Ah, frack,” whispered Bill.

“They are Cylons,” Laura said again.  “We are risking people’s lives here.”

Sidewinder started to speak, but he closed his mouth as Lee held up one hand.  “Madame President, we risk people’s lives every single day.  But we gauge that risk—if this information had not turned up, if we hadn’t read it, would you still trust Tory?  And Colonel Tigh?  And Chief Galen?”  He held up a hand.  “Don’t lie to yourself, Madame President.  Don’t lie to me, don’t lie to the Admiral, but most of all, don’t lie to yourself.  If you didn’t know, how would it make a difference?”

“If this gets out, we can’t protect any of them, Laura,” Bill Adama said quietly.  “The people will demand their pound of flesh—and we have other fish in the fleet.  I’ve already sent Marines to take D’Anna Biers into custody—she can join Cavil in the brig.”

“Fine!” she snapped.  And then she began to laugh.  “Is your commander as hard-assed as you, Captain Greene?”

“Harder, ma’am,” Sidewinder answered bluntly.

“Well, I think we are in for interesting times ahead,” she said as she picked up the only three copies of the archive records aboard the ships of the Fleet and struck a match.  She put the flame to the corner of the paper and when it had started, she dropped it in a waste can.

“If something goes wrong, if they turn out to be pre-programmed and they are activated . . .,” she began.

“Then we are all probably dead, Madame President.  Either Saul or Galen could destroy this ship if they wanted to and there isn’t a thing we could do to stop that.  They haven’t,” the Admiral interjected as he reached up and turned off the fire alarm before it could begin to blare at the smoke coming from the waste can.

“We keep this to ourselves—for now,” he continued.  “And that means we don’t treat them any differently.  Agreed?”

One by one, Sidewinder, Lee, and finally the President nodded. 

“Good.  I think this is enough surprises for one day, Captain Greene, so this meeting is now adjourned,” she said as she rose.

You've got the canon characters down to a pat I'd say.

Adama is the emotional then reasonable one, with an edge
Roslin is pure emotion driven has been from start
Apollo is the one who will defend the articles in defiance of all who stand against him

Seems all about right to me.  I wonder if Lorne will be as much of an ass towards Adama as Sidewinder, that's one Raptor pilot with big round ones