[Tabitha]

Brandt sat in his command chair, leaning to one side, holding a cup of coffee that had assumed room temperature quite a while ago. He finally started to sit straight, but the creak of the chair reminded him that it was still broken, and repairs on it were still in the que. Everything was in que. The only maintence being performed was the total system refit and upgrade of the Avalons systems with the stuff they scuttled from Arcadia. If the cylons had gotten ahold of Arcadia, it would have been over for the fleet that got away.
His conversations with the male pilot, he tried to recall his name, indicated that Galactica and possible another two or three Battlestars survived. He suspected that the others were probably off somewhere refitting themselves, trying to restore combat capability, before returning to fight. Till they returned, the cadets of CST Avalon would have to grow up fast and carry the load. Their old Viper 1's and the new stuff that they scuttled from Arcadia would have to carry the battle to the cylons for an unknown period of time.
The combat frequencies were not hopping, but he was informed that some traffic was passing, indicating at least two Battlestars were out there somewhere, they were talking, coordinating, planning a retaliation. His radio operator was pretty sure it was not Galactica and another one, it was definately someone closer, in their area.
He put the coffee down on the railing, it proceeded to slide off and spill on the steel grating. He shrugged. Oh well, no use crying over...
He looked down and thumbed through reports, the Avalon was going to be completely combat ready in two weeks time. He made a sour face, two weeks. Not good enough. He needed it NOW! He scribbled a memo to sections heads, "Dont make it perfect, just make it work."
He heard that darn ringing in his ear again. Getting old was starting to get to him. He put his head down onto his hand and rubbed his temples. Somehow he had to get this Battlestar into combat faster than humanly possible, and had to defend the survivors left behind with the lives of himself and his cadets. It was victory or death.
Colonel Danson considered talking to his CO, but it didnt seem like the time. General Brandt was just too busy to discuss personal matters. The Avalon had, in the last seventy five hours, removed itself from the stationary orbit around the asteroid C-271 +16.3, and had basically stripped the top secret R&D base Arcadia, then after two days of organizing the recovered equipment and personell, they had begun combat operations against cylon forces near Caprica.
He knew that only a handful of people even knew about an R&D base, much less its code name, or its location. General Brandt had commanded the base till a yaren ago, when he was transferred to Avalon for his final tour before retirement. Colonel Danson had requested to serve under the general, only because doing so would look great on his ticket. He knew he was a ticket puncher. He never failed to rattle his class ring from the much admired Colonial Military Academy on Caprica. It was a brotherhood very few officers could claim. Even General Brandt didnt have a class ring. As such, those officers that did, often would rattle their rings on the table at high level meetings, to establish who was and was not a brother. This became known as ring knocking, and those who did it as ringers. It was all about getting your ticket punched, the more often, the higher you went in the food chain. That meant more money and prestige. The best assignments often went to the officers with the best tickets.
Colonel Danson had punched his ticket well at the beginning of his career. He even took command of a special forces unit for six months. During which time, he delegated every responsibility he could off onto his junior officers, and dodged the rest, leaving that command in shambles. Still, he got to punch his ticket as a former special forces commander, that looked very good on his records. He was sure to go far in the Navy, but then this had to happen. He wasnt sure exactly how to spin this situation to look best. He figured that he would have to lead some kind of offensive operation to get any sort of ribbon or badge that they might make for the vetrans of this battle, but he wasnt sure how to do that without taking the chance of getting hurt. After all, it was just a ticket punch, not something to risk himself for. They had Warriors for that sort of foolishness. He turned away and looked at the tactical hologram that the R&D people had installed in the cavernous bridge area. It showed the positions of cylon basestars, the probable positions of Battlestars, and other vessles, as well as planetary bodies and debris fields. He noticed a pattern to the debris fields. The cylons were arching out, making a concentric ring around the colonies, just a few metrons at a time, not so much as anyone without this holographic display could make sense of their attack patterns, but seeing them like this, it was easier to understand. He wondered if this is how cylons saw things.
"Milo, I think I know where the toasters are gonna be next." he said into the ear of General Brandt.
"Ive told you before, Colonel, you call me General Brandt, you understand me Mr. Danson?" the general growled back. Brandt didnt care for his XO, but he didnt have a choice. "Now say what you have to and then go polish something useless, Colonel Dunsel." Brandt called him Dunsel, a Naval term for an object with no aparent use or value.
"Look in quadrant 136B +97, shift 13. Im seeing a pattern here." Danson said coldly. He respected the general, but he wasnt crazy about the old coot.
"Show me." Brandt said suddenly warmer. "If theres something to this, you may have just found a use Mr."
"Here, and here, they arch, that line extends in a sort of wiggly way past the Picon belt, to here." he said tracing a laser pointer along a path that wasnt aparent to Brandt. After looking at it for a good three minutes, considering, he agreed.
"Yes, I see it now. How did you come up with this Mr. Danson?"
"I look for patterns, sir, its how I plan my career, how I do what I do." Colonel Danson admitted very quietly to Brandt in a whisper. "Look sir, I know Im not a combat officer, but I AM a good manager, a good officer, and I am excellent with statistics and equasions sir, I WILL do what I am able to within my limitations, sir."
"You may have just saved the colonies Colonel." Brandt said smiling. He shook Dansons hand for the first time. "I have to tell you, I had a totally different fitness report ready for you, but I think Im about to change that." Brandt said being incredibly candid with his XO.
"I would appreciate that sir, though I doubt anyone but you or me will ever read it."
"Lets hope everyone reads it Colonel." Brandt said. He tossed the clip boards with dozens of colored papers on them to the side. "Helm, new course, take us out of system, towards Picon asteroid belt. Ops, set condition one. XO, rig to run silent." Brandt commanded the crew like they had done this a hundred times. Manuals were openned, questions were asked, but in the end, orders were followed.
"Actual, this is Helm, we have course set and executed, ETA just about a week." Helm reported.