If you're returning, or following, sorry for the long time, but you know how the holidays stop most things. Most of my private space was taken over so I had little or no time to continue this rather enjoyable story. (I found out how 'good' it was a week or so ago ;)

Anyway, hope you enjoy, the next chapter has some of the good you may want. ;P

Battlestar Galactica (BS-75) Three days later.

"I want you to go to the Tau'ri Ship Glasgow. Her captain, Major Morrison has finally allowed for us to send a delegate to review his ship." Commander Adama sat in his leather padded chair, looking up at his son. "Once you're on board, they will send a delegate to Galactica to review how we work. Major Morrison has agreed to give you full access to his ship, just as I have his."

Captain Lee Adama nodded, biting his cheek. "Glasgow right? The same ship that pilot Patterson is from right?"

"Why, you got a grudge Captain?" Colonel Tigh was helping himself to a glass of ambrosia.

"No sir, it's just me and him aren't on the best of terms."

"Well whatever problems you have you better set aside, Lorne and his men amazingly have a supply of ammunition that is the same caliber as our Vipers, not to mention their ability to protect our mining ships. You need to get along with this Patterson if you have to." the Commander was looking through his watch log, his eyes seemed heavy laden.

"I tried that sir, he acted like he hated me after a minute of talking."

"Sometime I think I need to meet this man." the Commander cast a serious stare at Colonel Tigh.

"I don't care what he thinks of you, we need full cooperation from Lorne's men so we can get our production up, I also want to know how they keep manufacturing the ammunition we need."

"So am I a spy or a delegate?"

"I need facts Lee. Need them for the President, need them so I know we have them for the future."

"Care to explain it in more depth." Lee knew it was a risky move speaking to his father like that, especially with how he had been acting concerning their recent 'victory'.

Commander Adama looked up, he took off his glasses and looked Lee right in the eye. "Apollo, I need to know every little detail about these ships we're working beside, you said it yourself: One day we will have to elect an admiral, and the only way we are ever going to be able to do that is one of two. We either understand each other, or tear one another apart until not enough are alive for anything else. Also, whatever the people on the Glasgow are using to make their ammunition is filling our lockers, I want to know about it."

Lee had been nodding, it was diplomacy, something people said he was good at since the Astral Queen incident. "Is that all."

"Yes, you're dismissed." Lee saluted and walked from the room. William Adama set back and let out a sigh of relief.

"You sure raised a hell of a son Bill." Tigh kept drinking.

HMS Glasgow (BC-07) En route in Raptor 249.

"Attention Battlecruiser Glasgow, this is Galactica Raptor Two-Four-Niner, requesting permission for docking." The most recent jump had made radio communications a pain, leaving Racetrack to constantly looking over at Clara swearing at her radio panel.

A transmission came back garbled. "Galactica Raptor Two-Four-Niner, say again."

"Fraking muck of a nebula." Clara swore. She nodded for Racetrack to try again.

"Battlecruiser Glasgow, this is Galactica Raptor Two-Four-Niner, requesting permission to dock."

"Galactica Raptor Two-Four-Niner, state reason for docking."

"We have Captain Adama aboard as a Liaison to Glasgow and the Tau'ri fleet, also here to transport Glasgow's own liaison to Galactica."

"Roger than Raptor two-four-niner, you are cleared for docking, starboard port."

"Roger that Glasgow, landing in Starboard port."

Clara hit the console again when the radio surged static into their ears. "Bloody fraking hell." She cut the wireless and crossed her arms. They were less than a minute from Glasgow, but Racetrack took her hand off one of the control columns and ran it across Clara's left leg. Racetrack was in the left hand seat, the Scout Raptors were a little different from the Assault Raptors, Scouts being more versatile and allowing the pilot and ECO to trade spots freely.

For a second neither remembered that Captain Adama was in the back of the Raptor, at least until he cleared his throat loudly.

Racetrack went back to her piloting and looked closely at the approaching ship. It was small, less than two hundred meters, tiny compared to Galactica, yet somehow she was just as powerful, especially with the laser weapons Racetrack had seem it use not to long ago. The harder thing was the size of it's hangar port. Racetrack could see a door retracting, she realized how little room she would have for landing.

Racetrack slowed as she passed Glasgow's bow and flipped the Raptor around, she began to slow even more, using the main engines to bring fifty tons of Raptor to a stop. By the time she was stationary she could see the edge of the hangar on either side, she swung her nose around and saw a man motioning her in with a pair of martial sticks. She just tapped the engines and deployed her gear. Suddenly there was a yellow web in front of her, then her Raptor was dropped ten feet to the deck of Glasgow. Adama swore when he was bounced from his seat in the back, yelling up to the cockpit.

"Racetrack, straighten up and fly like a human being!"

Racetrack murmered a low curse and thumbed the thrusters, lifting the ship up less than a few inches and hovering it in until the martial told her to stop. The radio garbled again.

"Welcome to Glasgow 2-4-9."

Deck crew were gathering around the ship, Racetrack punched the button and the hatch opened. Then, out of the corner of her eye while she was looking at the console, she saw a tall blond man. Raising up she saw it was Patterson.

Colin Patterson came from the bottom of the food chain. It was the main reason for his disliking of many of the Colonial, and Federation, officers he had met. They all seemed so tight and strict, always insisting that you salute, say 'yes sir', and polish their boots among meeting them. Not like the RAF or the USAF. No, in them they made sure you were a good officer, they made sure siblings didn't serve on the same spaceship, they made sure you knew what you were doing before they put you in a slot. Or at least in the fleet they did. Patterson could remember several times when he flew Eurofighter Typhoons from the aerodrome outside Edinburgh, how several times the base CO had been forced to discipline a certain pilot who was actually his nephew.

Patterson hated sibling officers most of all. A whole family of them was usually a group of tightly packed snobs whose thoughts were on the fact they had a family of six officers, mother, father, sister brother, and other brother. It was his reason for disliking the Captain Adama, who apparently could get away with mutiny and murder, he was supposed to greet now.

Raptors were a familiar sight now, their strange snub wings and twin tails made them easily distinguishable from most ships, and he had to admit he liked the look of the ship.

Captain Adama was standing on the edge of the Raptor, looking curiously at the curiously onlooking deck hands. Patterson prepared himself for the worst and angled around. He stopped in front of the ship and stared straight at Lee Adama.

The man's hands came up to touch his brow. "Permission to come aboard Mister Patterson!"

Patterson returned the salute. "Granted." He spoke flatly, exactly like his feeling of not caring.

Apollo stepped down off the Raptor. Major Morrison was jogging across the deck, the shuttle arriving late had found him still involved in a promotion ceremony after several casualties of the resent battle were replaced by their lower ranks. When Apollo tried to offer a salute it was waved aside as Morrison admired the Raptor while shaking Adama's hand.

"Quite the ship Mister Adama! Mind if I have my SFO take a look at them?" Patterson was already taking in the Raptor.

Apollo turned around and looked at Clara climbing from the hatch. "As long as it's okay with the crew Major, I hear they're supposed to take a delegate back to Galactica."

Morrison acted as if he'd forgotten. "Ohh, well he shan't be ready for some time Captain, right Patterson?" He leaned around Apollo and looked at Patterson, who was offering Clara a hand down to the deck.

"I'll see the next CAP of sir, then I'll be ready for flight."

"You see? Nothing to worry about, only a few minor delays Captain, now if you please, follow me and we'll take a look about this ship." Morrison guided Apollo away just as Racetrack was climbing from the cockpit and stepping out onto the wing.

"You have something better to do maggots!" Patterson bellowed at the deckhands, startling Clara.

The crew dispersed and Patterson turned to Racetrack, standing less tall that she should have due to Patterson's height.

"Patterson." She said with a low and sarcastic undertone.

"Racetrack."

"I thought you didn't Adama."

"Kings Regulations, I shall not show disrespect to an allied officer, no matter my ideas towards them."

Clara realized Danny had once used that on her.

"Don't expect the same from me Patty." Patterson shook his head and walked off, he had to see the next CAP off.

After a few yards he realized Clara was tagging along behind him, he suit making a loud swishing sound. Patterson turned to see Racetrack was coming along as well.

"Can I help you two?" he inquired when Racetrack caught up.

"We're your pilots Patty, gotta be sure you get in the Raptor with us." Racetrack crossed her arms, something that showed a very nice side of her.

"Well under certain circumstances I would enjoy that lassie, but I've got to see my CAP off."

"Why hasn't it been off before now?" Clara asked, Racetrack was taken aback by his previous comment.

Patterson ignored her and turned away, calling to a NCO. "Chief Dawes! Bloody get that damn Raptor off the strip, a great damn shuttle could need an emergency landing and the Port bay is setting up for a launch."

The chief said yes sir and charged off.

Thirty minutes later the CAP was off and Patterson was on the deck in his dress uniform, baggage under one arm and cap on his head. Clara and Racetrack had been touring the hangar, asking deckhands and a present pilot about the 302 and the puddlejumper in the corner. A young pilot from the highlands, too young to be one if not for the lackage of volunteers, was somewhat mesmerized by the two lovely ladies asking him questions about the 302 and it's systems. Patterson resisted a smile at the strange hope the boy must have had about impressing the ladies. He approached as the boy, named Barton, was explaining the propulsion system of the 302.

"Working for a poke Fanny?" Patterson cut in, making Barton blush. He leaned against the wing of the 302. "My advice, try getting a shift on the Exeter, I hear they got a few itching for a snake as big as yours." Fanny's face turned as red as a beet and he scurried off as quick as he could without running.

"Was that necessary?" Clara's face was crunched in a look of severe frustration.

"He's only trying to compensate Clara, I heard from a bird that Scotsmen did that." Racetrack had a bored look on her face.

"Size doesn't matter, his scorecard proves that. If I saw one worse I'd go straight to hell, no questions asked."

"I still think her could do better than you." Clara flicked a lose bang out of her face, turning to walk towards the Raptor.

"I'm full of surprises, my flight instructor, both actually, learned that."

"They enjoy it?" Racetrack brought her chin up a little squinting her eyes at him.

"More than they should have, I'm happy to say they won't be the same for awhile yet." Patterson couldn't help but let the dirty thoughts fly.

Racetrack bit her lip and turned, shaking her head slightly as she jogged off to the powering Raptor. Patterson followed. He climbed into the hold to hear Racetrack and Clara talking in low voices, it was his first time inside a Raptor so he studied the control panel that dominated the port side of the hull.

Five minutes the fighter lifted from the deck, exited the bay and began to report she had FTL trouble. Thirty seconds after making the comment, Raptor 249 made a unscheduled jump.