SG-13

The Cylon War

Chapter 13

I am sorry this chapter took so long to get out between Pride dealing with stuff and me having to deal with my own problems in life sadly it just took a lot longer than plan for this chapter to come out. The next chapter should be out sooner it just depends on how life goes.

Chapter 13

"Alright. That's it!"

Daniel cautiously raised his head to take in the commotion.

"Is there something wrong, Susan?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Dr. Jackson," Susan growled menacing, "where are they?!"

"They? Who or what are you talking about?"

"I'm not a fool, Daniel, so don't take me for one. Where are the rest of the records!"

"What other records," came the confused response. "What you see is what we found. There wasn't anything else."

"Well, that's really funny," she snarled. "Because I've just spent the past six or seven hours pouring over a section of the colony's earlier years, and I swear that something's been deliberately removed from this collection."

Daniel sat up, a frown building on his face.

"How so?"

Checking back with her notes, Susan sorted through the pile to collect specific documents and tablets.

"Based on these documents, I have been able to piece together one individual's account that somewhere in the early years of the Colony a disagreement developed, and by all accounts, a fairly serious disagreement. Now, this was not just a basic war of words between one person and another. This was something that built over time, percolating up through the ranks to even involve members of the council. This situation was so heated that it boiled over to violence."

"That's pretty serious stuff. Does it mention what this was all about?"

"No," she muttered, pouring over her collected notes, "and that's what's pissing me off even more. The whole incident seems to start about sixty years after the colonists made planetfall, and from there it steadily builds up. Then, somewhere about the centennial anniversary of the Colony's founding, no more problems. Things progress normally."

"So the problem goes away, you mean?"

"No! I mean the problems and unrest simply seem to vanish as if they never existed in the first place."

"Could it mean that the individual became embarrassed about what he'd written and tried to remove it? Maybe it just got lost. Paper has an annoying habit of doing this."

Susan shook her head emphatically.

"If it had been one individual, I might've agreed with you," she admitted. "But in this case, there are at least 5 different accounts of the same events. Not something that either of us would consider as a normal occurrence, right? It just doesn't make any sense, none what so ever! For an event like this to take place, there should have been some sort of debris left in its wake. An edict, a celebration, or even a memorial for the gods sake! But no, all we're left with here is a void. It makes absolutely no sense at all!"

The room descended into an uneasy silence as Susan continued to fume in utter frustration. She occasionally glared at Daniel for effect.

"I assure you," he murmured defensively, "that I don't know any more than what you do. The best I can offer is to go back through the process and the locations to see if anything had been overlooked or misplaced. Would that help?"

Time passed before Susan's features began to soften. It was clear that she was still far from okay, but under the circumstances, she realized there was little to be gained from biting his head off.

"It's a start, "she grumbled reluctantly, "but it still doesn't answer the question about what happened here," she nudged the pile of paper and tablets. "I feel that I owe it to myself and my fellow Colonials to find out the truth. And I'll be damned if I let any of us down!"

-SGC/nBSG-

"In the end, she swore she'd get to the bottom of things. Or die trying."

Simpson's eyes closed as he gently shook his head.

"Daniel, I'm going to let you in on a little secret," he grinned. "Susan has always had a little flair for the dramatics; usually when a line of inquiry she is following failed to pan out. Joe has had to witness many of these during his time at the museum. Believe me that it's not directed at anyone in particular, just her way of displaying her annoyance at all the unfairness in the galaxy."

"The only thing is," he continued, "I'm amazed at how quickly she's been able to put things together. Considering the amount of information the two of you had to wade through, I would have assumed the two of you would be at it for a month before she'd have any inkling that something was amiss."

"So you DID do it," Jackson asked, pointedly.

"Did what?" Woolsey queried, a worried look coming over his face.

"Richard, please remember that from the very beginning we had agreed that the Colonials should not have any idea that we'd had any contact with the 13th tribe. If I were to let Susan run roughshod through all the material we'd gathered, she'd be on it like a shark on blood. Initially, the UEG had members of the Greek archaeological society to read through and flag any files that they thought might cause problems. It was a rush job, to say the least. In the end, I had to call on Greek-speaking crew members to fine tune the culling, removing anything that had references to a splinter group leaving Terra. In the end, it was supposed to leave nothing but rumor and innuendo. Nothing any self-respecting researcher would stake their reputation on."

Daniel shuffled uneasily in his chair.

"Present company excepted, Dr. Jackson," Tim grinned.

"And potentially leaving me to look the fool," Daniel grumbled.

"But what have you to complain about," Simpson responded. "You've ended up with a top-notch researcher, with whom you've been able to unearth more history than you know what to do with. You should be hearing the grumbling from the crew that's been assigned to you. The grunt work you've got them doing will keep them busy for the next month alone, if not longer. No, I have more sympathy for the Colonial people; the changes in their history books alone are going to cause ripples for years to come."

"But still, you didn't trust me enough to keep me informed?" Jackson sputtered indignantly.

Simpson stopped to gather his thoughts.

"Daniel," he responded quietly, "on Earth, you kept secrets because you had nothing else to lose, and you had an idea of the consequences if those secrets got out. During your time on Caprica, you were there trying to present the Earth in its best possible light. Had someone questioned your integrity, I have no doubt something would have slipped. Unintentionally, maybe, but still it could have happened. At least now you have that immortal phrase 'Plausible Deniability' that you can hide behind."

"Fat lot of good that'll do if Susan decides to go on a rampage! What you left her may only appear as rumour, but it seems enough was left behind to offer reasonable doubt that there should be more lurking in the background. What'll happen then?"

"Then it will be up to me to remind her of a promise that she made," Simpson frowned. "From what you've told me, she thinks she's sitting on the next great historical discovery. And in truth, she has. The only problem she hasn't considered the possible ramifications. It's possible that the others might not be ready to hear what she's got to tell them."

"And talking about hearing things," Simpson glanced at Woolsey, "what is the latest news about the Quorum?"

"Seemingly the same old rhetoric, I'm afraid. But ever since your appearance, they've had the decency to reword their messages into requests rather than demands. But even I can stomach 'Come to your senses' or 'Come back where you belong' only so many times," Woolsey sighed, tossing the paper onto a nearby table.

Lacing his fingers together, he watched his thumbs as they rubbed back and forth in front of him. Nervously, he looked up.

"I'm starting to wonder if we've bitten off a little more than we can chew here. I mean, the attitude these people are giving off is that of a five-year-old finding a new playmate. The only problem is that they expect to have everything handed to them, that they have the god given right to be in charge. I cringe to think of the welcome they'll get when they meet the rest of the galaxy."

"The funny thing is," Tim responded, "that while I spent time on Caprica, the commonplace people I dealt with were nothing like this. Take away the cultural and language differences, they could easily Mom and Pop Jones from back home. Why those in power have such a different take on things leaves me stumped. It almost makes me want to deal with the man on the street if I had the choice."

"Well, if this Quorum of theirs doesn't change their tune in the foreseeable future, that might be the only option we'll have to play with," Woolsey replied. "The problem with the Wraith will only get worse the longer we take."

"Understood," sighed Simpson. "The last message from Earth indicated that just about everything was ready to transport the PM and delegates for the formal signing of the Treaty. All we had to do was give the word."

"If that came from General O'Neill", offered Jackson, "then I can almost imagine the type of help he'd be offering to persuade the Colonials; to help them see the seriousness of the situation. How he ended up dealing with the Kelownans showed that easily enough. And considering what we're hearing and seeing, that help could be what we need right about now."

"As much as I would appreciate it," Simpson replied, "I'm not so sure I could live with the consequences. I mean, would it be worth the havoc and chaos we'd unleash across the system just to make sure we defeated the Wraith or the Alliance? Or would it make us just as dirty as they are?"

"Miss Karahalios is probably putting the pieces together as we speak, this means that time is no longer something we have in abundance. And clearly, when that happens, all hell could break loose. When the time comes, is there any ideas on how we could control it or her?"

"Not one, "growled Simpson, "except reminding her of the promise she made when starting out this adventure. Beyond that, I was hoping that the limited information we'd left her would help flesh out their history while leaving us out of the picture. Instead, it looks like the whole thing is going to blow up in our faces, regardless. Damn it to hell!"

Allowing the other two to natter on, Simpson sat back in his chair and continued to stew. 'For something so simple,' he thought to himself, 'it's amazing how fraked up it could become.' The harsh buzzing of the communicator intruded on his quiet musings. Launching himself from the chair, he mashed the button down with his thumb.

"WHAT!"

There was a nervous pause before a voice hesitantly responded.

"If this is a bad time, Sir, I can call back later?"

"No, Heatherly," Simpson sighed. "Just the galaxy having a laugh at my expense. What can I do for you?"

"Welllll," the Cmdr began, "could you come down to the Training Office? The problem we spoke about earlier still hasn't sorted itself out."

Simpson growled in annoyance.

"Those idiots!" Simpson snapped. "And after everything they've been told..."

"Sir, before you feel drastic measures need to be taken, we have a couple of ideas we'd like to put past you. Considering the situation they are a bit off the wall, but they're all we've got to offer."

"Alright, Mr. Heatherly," came the response, "I'll be there in ten. This had better be good."

-SGC/nBSG-

Lt. Erika Tomins was pissed. No, make that livid. Ever since the assault on Earth she had felt it her calling to be one of those that defended it from all intruders. This calling, or drive if you will, 'pushed' her to dominate anything that got in her way, of being the best she could be. Graduating 5th in her class, she continued on to master advanced flight and tactics, becoming a very capable fighter pilot. With the exception of practice and war games to hone her skills, she believed herself ready to take on anything the galaxy had to throw at her.

So why the hell was command having her hunting down pirates?! It wasn't as if the Colonials didn't already have a hand on the problem. Sure it was a necessary evil but she could only imagine that duty delegated to the major screw-ups. So why did they choose to waste her immeasurable skills on a group of low life's?

Grumbling darkly about the intelligence of some officers, Erika mashed her fingers on the touch screen in front of her. It was the highlight of her day to fly, to show off what she could do. She lived to be in the cockpit of her fighter stretching her skills and abilities. To be the best she could be. This was just revolting!

Foul words soon joined an already foul mood.

"Lighten up, Guns! You don't want to catch anymore crap like you did last week, do you?"

Guns glared over at her wingmate, his fighter high and to her right.

"Get stuffed, Rev. This is unwarranted punishment, and you know it. A simple barrel roll around that Colonial section that passed too close to the Kaga and the Brass treats it as an interstellar incident."

Capt. Jim Jones chuckled aloud, shaking his head. With an attitude like hers, he was amazed that Erika's ego could fit in the cockpit, let alone her helmet. He checked his scanner for debris from the nearby asteroid field before deciding to respond.

"To hear it from the other side of the canopy, you damn near scraped the paint off of the lead Viper. Are you trying to gain the reputation of being a 'Viper-Insulter' as well?"

"No, but all this hurry up and wait is starting to grate on me. We're out here to defend the Earth and make the galaxy a safer place. And instead, we're making nice with the local primitives. Where's the incentive in all that?"

"I'd be careful who you start calling primitive, Guns. Those Vipers may have less tech than our Reapers, but in the right hands they can be downright lethal."

"Do I detect a hint of fear in your voice, Rev?" she responded mockingly.

"No, but remember what Kage is always telling us. Never underestimate the opposition. It could be the last thing you do."

"Oh, you wuss! If I didn't know better..."

"CONTACT!," cried Rev. "Bogey is 5,000 km out and approaching from behind. Right side, low and slow."

"What the hell?!," yelped Erika. "What is it and how did he get in so close without us 'seeing' him?"

"Originally the sensors claimed it was a lump of 'semi-refined metals' tumbling along showing nominal energy levels. And as such, it had been declared debris. Returns are now claiming it's a Viper, powered down and coasting along on its own inertia. If it wasn't for an unexpected energy surge, he could have floated on by like any of the other debris out here."

"Is there any indication that he knows we're on to him?"

"Hard to say, Guns. There's been no change in power output, and his course and speed are both steady."

Erika studied her display.

"Rev, I don't like this one bit. Give that joker a few more seconds and he could be in a good position to bounce us but good."

"Take it easy, Guns. I'll follow your lead, but cut out the John Wayne crap. You know how much hot water we got into the last time things went south."

"What could go wrong? It's just one bogey. Climb with a hard bank right. If we're lucky we might skewer him from above, and if not it'll put us in a good tail position."

"Copy that, Guns. Climbing right... OH Shite! Check your six!. I'm seeing tracer fire high across my nose."

"Break hard right and dive below the first bandit. I'll dive to the left and try to draw the second one off of you."

Communications became limited to the grunts and groans as both pilots began pushing their machines to the limits of their endurance. Warning tones warbled on and off as the bandits continued to gain and loose weapons lock on with frustrating regularity. Bruises formed as the inertial compensators were overwhelmed with the shifts and changes each pilot was going through.

"Guns, I've got an exceptional SOB on my six. He just won't shake off!"

"I see you. Break hard left, and come towards me. I pass over top of you and see if I can at least scare him off."

"Alright, but don't take too long!"

Erika knew she was being played. Every time she tried to come around, canon fire sprayed past the side of her bird. She could hear the panic building in Jones' voice as he kept updating her. And then everything began to change.

"Guns, I think I caught some rounds aft, 'cause controls and thrust are getting sluggish."

"Hang in there, Rev! You haven't bought it yet."

"Doin' my best, Guns. Coming up on your... AWW, Christ! I'm taking fire from behi..."

A flare of light temporarily lit the eternal night of space.

There was a moment of silence as Erika's foul mood utterly imploded. Falling back on her considerable skills, she jinked and deked around the incoming fire, all the while muttering one word over and over. Then slowly, with each repetition, the volume built up louder and louder. At the same time, Tomins' maneuvers began to take on a deadly edge as she began taking the fight back to the intruders.

Patterns and tactics were considered and tossed as the fight progressed; each side trading murderous fire. A continuous stream of squeals and groans emanated as both plane and pilot strained to do the seemingly impossible. In a lucky moment of intuition, Guns found herself successfully pinning one of the Vipers square in her sights. A delicate stroke of the firing stud rapidly reduced the deadly fighter into so much space junk floating off to who knew where.

"BASTARDS!," she screamed in ultimate triumph.

But the moment of elation was swiftly turned to horror as she watched as gunfire from the other bandit stitched its way up along the nose of her little craft. Reaching the canopy, she watched as her world transformed as the cockpit was lit with an actinic glare, as everything shook violently and painfully around her. A heartbeat later it faded into a still darkness. The only illumination that remained was a blinking display.

{Simulation Ended}

-SGC/nBSG-

"So," Cain mused aloud, "I have to admit that that was..."

"Embarrassing, to say the least," grumbled Simpson, his face slowly sinking into his hands.

"Actually," countered Helena, "I was going to say interesting, possibly even promising."

"Interesting? Promising?" sputtered Simpson. "What in Tartarus' dank depths would cause you to say something like that?"

"Tim!" Adama retorted in shock.

"Well? It's the truth, isn't it?" he snapped. "The two of them traipsed in as if it were an easy turkey shoot, only to get bounced and eliminated in fairly short order. It took the death of her wingman to force the element leader to adopt the level of tactics that would have seen both of them survive this encounter in the first place. Too little, too late if you ask me."

Cain, stunned at Simpson's callous display, could only stand and fume at the man's attitude. It was hard to imagine this was the same person that had once commanded so much respect from her crew. Yeah, in the past Tim would have been upset at one of his people's poor performance. But at the same time, his scathing review of such tactics would have included some constructive criticism, giving the individual an idea where to improve. Now it seemed as if the man was giving up on his crew altogether.

Looking around, Bill could see the effect on the gathered crew and officers. These people looked as if they'd do anything for Tim. But instead of the praise they deserved for all the hard work, they'd gotten a kick in the teeth. Morale was going to suffer greatly if something wasn't done, and done right now!

"I know this isn't my place to issue orders," he began, "but could everyone clear the room so I can have a private conversation with my fellow Admirals?"

"Sir?" a wary technician questioned.

"Please clear the room!" Adama grumbled.

"Admiral Simpson?"

"It's alright, Cmdr. Heatherly," Simpson quietly replied. "Have everyone clear the room. You can post security outside of the entrances if we need assistance."

There was a hesitation throughout the room.

"I said to leave us now, people!"

Adama raised an eyebrow as the room was emptied slowly but surely.

The hatch had barely closed with a thud when Cain lit right into him.

"You are really something, you know that?" she spat. "I've known some Gemonese Patriarchs who couldn't be as cold as you were just now! The only problem was that they were raised that way. What's your excuse?!"

"Come off it, Helena!" Simpson responded. "I wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad?!" came the retort. "I could see people wincing from that verbal slap! Believe it when I say 'Yes, it was THAT bad!'"

Simpson looked up, first to Cain and then to Adama. From Cain, he could feel the fury rolling offer like heat from an overworked jump drive. With Adama, it wasn't so dramatic. But the stern look and the gentle nod spoke volumes to Tim.

"Aww, shit," he groaned, his head dropping to his hands.

"Yeah," she snarked. "Damn it, Tim! Not once did you ever act like that on the Pegasus. And to hear it from the crew, they would have gone to Tartarus and back for you! So what the frak is going on here!"

"What isn't is the better question," Tim sighed as he leaned back in the chair. "If the rumor mill hasn't passed it on to you, let me spell it out. We, as a society, have only recently made our way out into space. Any of the problems we've encountered so far have been dealt with solutions based on wet navy applications. The thing about it is that the technology we've been able to acquire so far has made those solutions very workable."

"And so? What's the problem?"

"Simple. We've grown too dependent on the technology to get the job done."

"Oh," she replied, the point finally sinking in.

"Oh is right," Simpson continued. "It was a glaring point to the High Command back home. So much so, that when it was clear that I had survived the war, they realized that I had something no one else did."

"Experience?" Adama offered.

"Exactly," Tim responded. "As it stands right now, I am the Tau'ri's foremost expert on Zero G combat with a side of Fleet tactics. And as such, it's been left up to me to work out and implement a training plan that would get our pilots up to speed, to improve their survivability against the various threats we know that are out there. I admit the first couple of months were sheer hell as it was only me trying to teach the entire wing a squadron at a time. But once the Training Cadre came online, things improved immensely."

"But even then there were roadblocks?" suggested Cain.

"Oh, yeah. And as much as I could pass on what I'd learned to the Cadre, there was only so much that the Cadre could do to pass it on to the others. In the end, when the pilots couldn't see the practical use of these tactics, they simply adjusted what they'd learned from atmo flying and adapted it to get the job done. I've seen some of the things they've been able to accomplish. And while some of it is pretty ingenious, it still has its limitations."

"And now you think they need a nudge to get them going?"

"Oh, definitely," Tim agreed. "The scenario we saw played out just now, proves it. It took the 'death' of her wingman to push Tomins into doing what she needed to do in the first place. Although in the end what she accomplished amounted to too little, too late. Pathetic if you ask me."

"Actually," responded Adama, thoughtfully. "I still agree with Helena when I say that they show promise." A glance at the nearby Admiral Cain produced a grudging tilt of the head.

Tim snorted in disgust.

"Promising? How could you say that?" bemoaned Simpson. "The pilots were inattentive to their surroundings and squabbled about like school children on a field trip. They need to use these tactics but no matter what we tell them, it seems to be an uphill battle every step of the way."

"It may seem like that at first," admitted Cain, "but considering what you've said about your people, this encounter says a lot for their potential."

"Come on, Tim," piped up Adama. "I admit Lt. Tomins has a bit of an attitude about her, much like another hot-headed female pilot that I know," he said with a grin. "But when push came to shove, she showed the ability to step outside her preconceived notions of aerial combat. And in the process, she gave a Colonial combat veteran a run for her money."

"Tim, you have good people here," Helena continued. "Your only problem was that you don't have the instructors to push them as far as they need to go."

"You'll get no argument here. What use is 'Promise' if it takes the loss of half a squadron to achieve it?" Simpson grumbled.

"So this isn't just a social visit, is it?" Cain queried.

"Not entirely," Simpson shrugged. "It was a given that, sooner or later, we were going to ask if Colonial pilots would be willing to help us in the training process. The only problem we hadn't counted on was the delay the Quorum would create with their deliberations. Most societies we've encountered have expected some sort of exchange while their governments made up their minds. None, that come to mind, have insisted on a complete shutdown like yours."

"Personally, I'm no great fan of politics," offered Cain, "but this has always been the way we've dealt with something like this."

"And if it takes as long as the deliberations over your 'Articles of Colonization'...," Tim began.

"Maybe even longer," rumbled Adama.

"The rest of the galaxy may just leave you behind in the dust," Simpson finished.

"So, are you suggesting that we just toss out generations of tradition to get things moving," Cain questioned, her right brow raised.

"Not at all, Admiral," came the reply. "All I'm offering is to give some of your troublesome veterans, the ones getting bored with peacetime patrols, a chance to keep their skills up in a very life-like simulator. And at the same time, present a real challenge to my pilots and a reason to implement the tactics we've been drilling into them." Tim sighed heavily as he stared down at the table top. "God knows I've tried to make them take this training seriously, but obviously there is only so much that I can do with the resources on hand. These people of mine needed a real wakeup call, and this was the only opportunity we could see that actually taking place. The only thing that was stopping me were the potential repercussions. Not only would the Quorum be pissed with me jumping the gun, but I have no clear cut reason for keeping Colonial officers onboard for extended periods of time."

"I can only hope, I guess," Simpson sighed wearily. A grin graced his face as he looked up at Bill.

"And speaking of reality, I've heard some pilots were complaining about how real the simulators turned out to be."

"You don't need to tell me," chuckled Adama. "I heard from Starbuck that she claimed it was like being in her old viper back home. She was grumbling during that last scenario that she'd gotten bruises on her bruises from the workout that last simulation had put her through."

"That was Starbuck?! I knew that the Lt. had her hands full towards the end, but I never realized how full until now. Who else did you bring over with you?"

"Oh, just some of the usual crowd: Bulldog, Hotdog, Thumper, and Helo."

"And who was Starbuck's wingman?"

There was a slight hesitation.

"Hey! I don't have any argument over the talent you brought along. I'd even be content with that pain-in-the-ass 'No Show'."

"I only wish, son," Adama rumbled, looking at his hands.

Tim leaned forward in his chair, a frown beginning to form.

"Really, Bill. Who was it?"

"It was Athena, Tim," Cain responded. Adama looked up to nod in acknowledgment.

"Athena? You mean Sarah is here?! Why wasn't I told about it?"

"She wanted to keep it quiet," Bill sighed.

"Quiet? What do you mean quiet? For the longest time, she'd been complaining that I hadn't told her enough. And now as I'm baring my soul, as it were, she wants to keep things quiet? Is there something here that I'm missing?"

"What can I say, Tim," Bill offered. "She's like her mother, going after what she wants and knowing where she's going. When she first saw you, she saw a man with great potential, both personally and professionally. The only thing she hadn't counted on was the baggage you'd brought along with you. Who knew that you, at least according to the public, were going to be part of the fabled Thirteenth Tribe. And in her eyes, that seemed to change everything."

"But I haven't changed! I'm still me! Just plain Tim," Simpson exclaimed. "When I came back, I had assumed that there might be complications from being in the different services, but this is just ridiculous!"

A sharp rap on the hatch interrupted things.

"YES!" Simpson angrily called out.

A marine quickly stepped inside.

"Begging the Admiral's pardon, but there has been an incident in the pilot's briefing room, Sir. It seems that an argument has broken out between Lt. Tomins and one of the Colonial pilots, Sir. The last I knew, the comments they were using were getting very colorful. If you know what I mean."

"If I ever get a chance, the first thing I'm doing is giving Murphy a swift kick in the short and curlies," Simpson muttered to himself. "Take us there now, Sergeant."

-SGC/nBSG-

Ever since he learned that he was to head the military presence going back to the colonies, he wondered how the first Colonial/Tau'ri collaboration would go. Would it be a mature, respectful discourse between equals? Or would it be more like child-like awe where two cousins meeting for the first time got to show off their new toys to the other? The only thing he understood was that it would not be without some sort of friction. First encounters rarely took place without it.

A sad smile flashed across his face as he recalled the time when his sister brought her soon-to-be husband to meet their parents for the first time. Mom had been absolutely livid. In her mind, there was no way in hell that a boy like that would have anything to do with her little girl. Tiffany, on the other hand, was just as adamant that no one was going to tell her who she could or could not choose. Both were convinced the other was simply out of their cotton-picking, raggedy-Ann minds. The stalemate had lasted for months, with each not willing to give one iota. But as compromises were established and 'fences built', peace eventually returned.

Simpson prayed that things could be worked out just as smoothly. He paused for a few seconds as he reached the doors to the back of the classroom. And with a slow, cleansing breath he opened the door.

Several pilots were lounging about observing the antics at the front as the Admiral quietly slipped in. There was a quick flurry of motion as some snapped to attention, but a waved hand stopped any announcement of his arrival.

"I want to see what is going on for myself," he whispered to those nearby. Acknowledging nods were returned as word was passed along to the others.

The encounter had all the makings of a classic duel. Tomins and Thrace had squared off at the front of the room, eyes hard-locked on the other. Epithets and insults flew fast and furiously, while in the background their respective wingman (or would that be seconds, Tim wondered) were doing their best to quietly defuse the situation. But it was clear that words weren't going to be enough. Tomins and Thrace were equally convinced that they were right, and were fully prepared to act on it. In their minds, there was nothing that could sway them otherwise.

Tim knew that now was the time to act.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE THE TWO OF YOU DOING?" he roared, as silence fell like a heavy blanket. The two women flinched slightly as he made his way forward, glancing back and forth between the two combatants. He stopped an arms-length distance away, arms crossed over his chest. An insistent boot tapping could be heard while he waited for a response.

"Why do I have to repeat myself, people? I asked you what the hell is going on here?"

"Teaching," Kara growled, peevishly.

"Teaching, my ass!" retorted Erica. "More like legalized harassment if you ask me."

"Like you'd know anything about teaching, Princess."

"If that is how you teach," Tomins spat back, "I'm surprised that anyone learned anything."

"At least they learned how to survive a lot longer than you did!"

"THAT WILL BE ENOUGH!" bellowed Simpson. "I just do not believe the two of you. You're supposed to be professionals, not a couple of school kids. I expected much more out of you than this. Simply put, the two of you embarrass me."

Simpson looked down as he shook his head, an exasperated sigh resounded about the room.

"Lt.," he continued, staring directly at Tomins, "I have been watching all of you, and to put it mildly, I am disappointed in the lot of you. Time and time again the Training Cadre, in their limited way, have tried to teach you the skills you need to survive out there. And time and again you choose to ignore what they have taught. And while I applaud the ingenuity of what you have been able to achieve, I'm appalled at the disregard you have for tactics that could save your lives."

"As pilots, you are expected to assess and evaluate what is going on out there; improve and move on, as it were," he continued, looking about the room. "The only problem here is that you people are not. I passed on what I knew and had experienced as part of the Colonial Fleet, knowing that it would be a benefit to you. I figured that there would be a bit of a longer learning curve as even the Training Cadre had to come to terms with it. But even after the lessons had been taught, the training scenarios had been enacted, and all the cajoling the trainers could muster, you still fell back on the old ways almost without hesitation."

"And now, when I bring on individuals that have the ability to point out your shortcomings, all you can do is cry out, 'No Fair'?"

Erica bristled as she saw Thrace start with an evil grin.

"What wasn't fair here, Lt.," Simpson continued, staring her in the eye, "was how everything today ended up. Not only did you lose the encounter, but you also lost your sense of professionalism. And while productive banter has its place, you need to focus on the situation as if it is your last. How closely were you checking your sensors, eh? How closely were you checking your surroundings? For god's sake, had you ever considered doing a belly check?! The only thing that gave you any chance at survival was the unexpected energy surge that alerted you to the Viper's existence. If it wasn't for that, it would have been a complete slaughter."

Thrace's grin was all-encompassing as she felt her initial assessment vindicated. These 'baby' Tau'ri were finally getting a taste of what the real world was like.

"Usually your trainers would have each of you work up an analysis of the encounter. This instance will be no different, people. In this case, I am going to include special involvement by the pilots. When the Trainers walk you through their assessment, the pilots involved will be front and center to answer any questions about how, what, and why they did what they did."

Thrace was euphoric at this announcement. Her quietly whispered "Yes!" was clearly audible about the room.

"Something amusing, Captain," Simpson asked as he turned to fix her In a steely gaze.

"No, Sir. Nothing at all," Kara sniggered back. "Just pleased to see SOME people are taking responsibility for their actions for a change."

"Is that so? Shall I expect you to be doing the same any time soon?"

Kara started, a bit of her trademark smirk beginning to fade. In the background, Sarah started to shift nervously from foot to foot.

"What are you talking about, Admiral? I've done nothing wrong! It was the Lt. that was out of line."

"Are you so sure, Captain Thrace? Are you SURE that you didn't have something to do with this little incident?" the Admiral asked, his tone getting frostier by the moment.

"Nooo," came the whiny response. "Well, maybe not in so many words…."

"Then let me help to re-freshen your memory a little. When you and your colleagues came aboard my ship, you were assigned 2 simple tasks: assess my pilot's skills and point out possible improvements in our training syllabus. That was supposed to be it. These people were never yours to deal with in the first place. Now don't get me wrong here. You're good. Perhaps a little too good. But that ability has had you develop the habit of leaping before you look. So, instead of checking with the Trainers, you decide to jump out in front and begin critiquing a group of people you hadn't even met before."

Simpson paused to let things settle in before he continued.

"And if you'd be so kind to notice," he finished wryly gesturing about, "that hasn't finished out too well for you, has it?"

Thrace seethed in response.

"I don't know, Sir," came the snarky reply. "But I suppose it's about the same as what you've got going on at home."

Crew glanced at each other in shock, as silence engulfed the room. It was common knowledge that various elements had beefs with the higher-ups, but no one in their right mind had ever considered confronting them in such a blatant fashion. Even now that she'd scored first blood, Kara Thrace was wondering if she had bitten off more than she could chew.

"You're already up for Insubordination, Captain," an exceptionally chilly Admiral replied quietly, "so you had better choose your next words carefully."

"Or what?" she challenged. "You'll sick this bunch on me? Bring 'em on! 'Cause when I teach pilots, I teach them how to fight!"

"That's interesting," Tim replied, "because here, we teach them how to win."

"And there is a difference?"

Simpson shook his head.

"there's a world of difference between the two, Captain. If you knew what we were really like then … then … then …", Simpson faded off, a strange look coming over his face.

"Then? Then?!" a frustrated Thrace tried to prompt Simpson.

But by then, Simpson had gone beyond hearing her. Or anyone else for that matter.

In his mind, he began rerunning through the events that had lead up to this point. It was his discussion with the Training Cadre had made it painfully clear that what his pilots ultimately needed were trainers well 'versed in the art of zero-G combat. The problem was that the only ones available were the Colonials themselves. He inwardly cringed at some devious wrangling he'd done to have both Cain and Adama bring some of their best onboard as a surprise visit. But it was the session between Tomins and Thrace that clearly showed the need for the Colonial presence more than ever.

And at the same time, it showed the Colonial's need to understand the true nature of the galaxy. And the Tau'ri's part in it. As much as the Sacred Scrolls and their teachings had helped nurture the Colonials in their quiet oasis, there always going to be a point in the future when the outside was going to make its presence known. Be it the Goa'uld, the Asgard, or the Aschen, this secure bubble would eventually break. For their sake, Tim mused quietly, it was a good thing the Asgard chose the Tau'ri to get it done.

But the problem right now was that both sides were blinded about their own supposed superiority; the Colonials based on their long-standing traditions, and the Tau'ri by their belief in their own invincibility. And while it could be argued that both were right in their own fashion, it was just as true that each could be even better if they could just listen to the other. But how was he going to make something like that come to pass. No one in their right mind would willingly just give in and help out of the goodness of their heart.

Slowly, he began to hear the voices going on around him. The noise swelled and washed about him as if the waves in the sea. There was the bashing of those frustrated with the abrupt halting of his comments, while at the same time countered by the gentle wash of those trying to patiently wait for him to continue. As he continued to focus more on Thrace, he could tell that she was more annoyed with the public down dressing that she'd received. Similarly, Tomins only saw this as an unjustified embarrassment that she'd just as soon forget. She figured that everything had been going fine without adding any outside interference. In the end, it was clear neither of them considered this to be something they really wanted to remember. But, ironically, it was what they both needed the most.

Tim's only problem was whether or not he could convince others about the steps that needed to be taken.

Taking a deep breath, he waded back into the middle of the things.

"Okay, people. Listen up!" he called out. "Things have gotten rather lax around here. And while I would like to congratulate many of you for some of the innovative solutions you've been able to come up with, they have not been based on the tactics the Training Cadre has been trying to drill into you. As a result, this has made me consider some very drastic measures to improve things around here."

"Normally an after fight analysis would be done between the Cadre and the pilot's squadron where the Trainer would simply give a critique about select performances. In this particular case, everyone present will participate in an interactive assessment where the pilots will join the Trainer, up front, to explain their thoughts and decisions during the scenario. And when I say all pilots, I mean ALL pilots: Colonial and Tau'ri."

"Wha…What's that?! You can't do that!" Kara sputtered in response.

"I have to agree with her, Admiral," Cain interrupted firmly from the back. "Being a Colonial and a volunteer, the Captain is not under your command."

"And while I would normally agree with you, Admiral Cain," Tim answered, turning to face her, "I would argue that this would be a unique situation. Captain Thrace had been tasked with something very simple. She then took it upon herself to step outside those orders. Had she known how the people would respond to her, shall we say, 'unique' teaching style, she might have reconsidered. As it was, she operated without permission, and a full lack of understanding. In the end, everyone suffered for it. And since this was a situation I failed to anticipate, I feel obligated to rectify the situation."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Adama questioned, studying Simpson's face.

"By keeping her onboard, as part of the Cadre, to get to know the people she chose to insult so freely. And at the same time, she can earn her keep by continuing to assist with the training that she sees my pilots so desperately need," Tim grimly smiled. "Consider it an extended attachment."

"Admiral Simpson," snarled Cain, "you gave up the right to command Colonial forces the day you resigned from the Fleet. There is no way in Hades..."

"And of course, you'd never consider holding on to anyone else. Right, Admiral?" Adama asked in mock exasperation. Helena looked on in shock at the interruption.

"I don't know, Admiral," Simpson responded slowly. "If the Captain is any indication, then it would be easy to assume that those under her 'command' would be equally misinformed. My only course of action would be to hold onto them as well. If your people were so insistent on helping to train my pilots, I'd want to make damned sure they knew what their were getting into."

"You know there will be Tartarus to pay, when all is said and done," Adama solemnly intoned. "The Admiralty, Hades, the Colonial people will not stand for Tau'ri interference in Colonial affairs."

"The Tau'ri High Command takes a similarly dim view of those who interfere in the affairs of others," Simpson replied somberly. "It's something of a Prime Directive, if you will. But as I have a unique understanding of both sides, I believe this is an action that needs to take place."

There was more than a little confusion amongst the surrounding crew as the two men stared meaningfully at each other. Tim had wondered how the offering he'd put forth was going to be taken. For example, Helena was known for quick thinking and equally fast responses. If anything, she had taken this decision as an assault upon herself and her people. And her outburst proved that she was ready to defend them by tooth and claw. Adama, on the other hand, was never one to simply respond in a knee-jerk fashion. He would be willing to look past the flak and see the possibilities that he could make from the situation. Just the same, Bill only wondered at the risks Tim was taking to get this initiative going.

"And I suppose there would be an equal amount of learning done by the Tau'ri personnel? It wouldn't be fair that the flow of information was only one way, would it?"

"Obviously. For this to work properly, both sides should have a clear understanding of the other."

"And would my people be allowed to communicate with 'loved ones' back home? I'm sure there will be some that will want to know that they are all right."

"Oh, no doubt there," Simpson acknowledged. "I can assure you that they will not be kept as prisoners, but as visiting crew members."

Bill Adama closed his eyes for a moment, a myriad of thoughts flooding through. Clearly there would be a backlash from this, but at the same time he could envision the potential benefits both sides would obtain in the end. Taking a slow cleansing breath, Adama stood tall to face Simpson. The room waited with baited breath.

"Admiral Simpson," came the rumbled pronouncement, "considering the argument that you have offered, I am going to agree with the attachment of the..," Adama paused, " 'Starbuck' squadron to the Kaga's training Cadre. The length of attachment will be agreed upon at a later date, pending on the Admiralty's say so. Is this acceptable?"

"Bill…," Cain hissed. But whatever she had to say was stalled by a cautioning palm.

"Completely, Admiral Adama," Tim acknowledged, as the chatter of stunned personnel began to fill the room. "Documentation confirming these orders will be in your hands before you leave."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Simpson," came the gravelly response, "I just hope that it won't come at too high of a cost. The Admiralty, the President, and pretty well everyone else is going to kick up a hell of a fuss at your heavy handed tactics, but in this case I can only hope they see the gesture for what it realy is," he finished with a sigh.

"So say we all, Sir," Tim replied, a hint of a smile on his lips, "so say we all." After a moment to think, Simpson turned to face the knot of training officers at the front of the room. "Commander Heatherly," Simpson called out.

"Sir?" came the reply.

"Could you please look into quarters for our long term guests? We have a debrief and classes to resume tomorrow, and I, for one, would like everyone to be ready to get underway."

"Right away, Sir"

As the assembly began to break up, Cain found herself unable to contain her frustration any longer. Commanding Adama's attention, she lit right into her fellow Admiral.

"Bill, what do you think you're doing?" she quietly hissed. "I'm quite sure that Tim has no right to do this. And even if he did, he'd have to go through the same protocols and channels that everyone else does! So why are you going out of your way to put Thrace at his disposal?"

"Helena, you know how the higher-ups have been clamoring about getting good intel on these people? Most of what we have is based on hearsay, observations, and what few recordings we have of them so far. The most info we've had so far is from the video interview they participated in , and even that left us with more questions than answers. Now if Tim is as desperate to get his people up to speed as he seems, who am I to look a gift equine in the mouth. With our people and theirs working side by side, something is going to slip out. This way it will be a lot quicker than what we've been able to do it so far."

If there was anything more that could have been said, it was lost as Thrace barged in.

"Did you hear all the crap he was spouting off about me, Sir? I mean it is totally ridiculous that he thinks he can get away with it, right?"

Adama looked at her with a wry little smile, his head slightly shaking back and forth. Kara felt a shiver run up her spine ,as a lump beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.

"Captain," Adama quietly commented, "you know that I've always considered you as family. And while you've been aboard the Galactica, I've been amazed at your transformation from that brash, cocky little nugget to the mature, confident woman I now see before me. And when you bonded with Zak, I was sure that you were becoming everything you could be. So it surprised me that when i let Colonel Tigh know that I was bringing you with me on this visit, he believed it was going to be a big mistake. No matter how much you seemed to change, 'Starbuck will always be Starbuck' he said. 'She'll always find a way to cause trouble for you.' And as I left the CnC, he bet me double-or-nothing you'd find a way of causing the commotion with someone just like yourself."

Cain could only look on wide eyed, as a smirk began to form on her face.

Kara stood there stunned.

"My only problem now," he continued quietly, almost as if to himself, "is how to work with the Colonel when I have to tell him he was right."