I own neither Battlestar Galactica nor Battletech and don’t claim to. There’s no point suing me for borrowing the storylines or characters unless you want a share of an underpaid Civil Servants salary and trust me it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“Just because they could re-grow me a new leg when we got back to New Circe doesn't mean I'm ever going to forgive that son-of-a-bitch for shooting me like that... it hurt like hell and I don't care what the doc says, it's definitely longer than the other one.”

Commander Felix Gaeta: 3047

* * *

Battlestar Galactica - Colonial Fleet – 3045 CE

Felix Gaeta wasn’t sure why he got stuck with this job but he suspected the XO had a hand in it. If he had known Tigh had been anywhere in the vicinity he never would have made that joke about all the paint thinner going missing from supply after the Executive Officer inspected it, but as it was when the assignment was handed out it was handed directly to him thus ensuring no sleep for the past twenty-four hours as he furiously studied and prepared.

Most of the officers from both Galactica and Pegasus were stood around waiting and they were getting increasingly loud and annoyed at the delay as Gaeta tried to get the projector to work. It had taken him two hours to scan the atlas he was given into a series of digital images he could project on the bulkhead wall of the flight deck and he was damned if he was going to let all that effort go to waste.

Eventually the frakking thing started to cooperate and Gaeta had a bank of lights turned off so the image could be seen more easily. ‘This starchart comes from an atlas provided by our visitors from the Thirteenth Tribe’ he began, everyone settling down to listen. ‘It shows the known colonies of the humans from Earth as of the fall of what they call the Star-League roughly two hundred and sixty years standard ago.’

‘Gods!’ someone exclaimed, in the dim light it was hard to tell who. ‘How many colonies have they got anyway?’ they asked.

‘Well over two thousand, perhaps much more than that because outside this central zone they call the Inner Sphere there isn’t much in the way of authority to keep count these days’ Gaeta replied. ‘To give you some scale here this map covers an area of two thousand by four-thousand light-years with the more populated Inner Sphere marked in the centre here some five-hundred lightyears in radius’ he said. ‘Population estimates are above four trillion.’

‘Frak me’ another officer swore.

Gaeta pressed a button on the projector to get to the next slide. ‘Originally the Inner Sphere was governed by a unified government called the Star-league as I mentioned before’ he said, ‘but it collapsed after a coup leaving behind what are called the “Successor States” the worlds of each one marked in a different colour’ he told them, explaining the map. ‘In the years since the Star-League these nations have fought four major wars and innumerable skirmishes that devastated their industrial bases and has left them technologically regressed from what they were’ he continued. ‘The Federated Commonwealth shown in red is now clearly the dominant power in the Inner Sphere today with both the strongest economy and military although it still lacks the preponderance in either to take on everyone else simultaneously and reunify the Inner Sphere.’

‘I heard their jump-drive sucks’ a pilot spoke up.

‘By our standards yes it does’ Gaeta confirmed. ‘In very basic principles it resembles ours but although it can safely perform a respectable thirty light-year jump, beyond the red-line for our FTL, it then needs a week to recharge afterwards’ he said. ‘Their military ships do however have an additional battery system which enables them to do a sixty light-year double jump if necessary’ he continued. ‘Another striking superiority of our FTL over theirs is that they can’t jump into a gravity well which severely restricts their tactical capabilities.’

‘How come?’ an engineering officer queried.

‘If we didn’t have artificial gravity we couldn’t do it either’ Gaeta replied. ‘They don’t have that technology so they can’t apply it to cancel out the field locally and overcome the problem like we do’ he said. ‘Of course now we can show them how its done not only will they not have to float around they can also arrive a lot closer to where they want to go.’

A Raptor ECO from the Pegasus raised his hand. ‘Is it true they’ve got Directed-Energy-Weapons?’ he asked.

‘So they say’ Gaeta replied. ‘Lasers and what they call Particle-Projection-Cannons’ he told them. ‘They are way ahead of us in that field but our autocannons and railguns are better’ he noted. ‘We didn’t have their science-fiction toys so we spent longer refining the basics.’

‘The people of the Thirteenth Tribe we found aren’t from one of these Successor States are they?’ another pilot checked. ‘I heard they were refugees or something?’

‘They’ve been settled a while so I wouldn’t call them refugees any more but you’re right they aren’t from the Successor States or the Inner Sphere for the most part’ Gaeta told him. ‘From what they tell us when the Star-League collapsed most of its military decided to head into exile rather than get caught up in the power struggles that followed’ he said. ‘They headed hundreds of light-years towards the Galactic core and eventually established new colonies there. They evolved and were moulded into a society where a military caste ruled over a highly stratified society with scientist, trader, technician and labourer castes below them’ he explained. ‘They were also formed into twenty competing Clans which fought each other for influence, personal honour and just for the hell of it.’

‘I get the third reason’ a Viper pilot interjected, ‘the other two are lost on me’ he joked.

Gaeta smiled. ‘Eventually one of the Clans started to adopt a different way of doing things from the others’ he told them. ‘They started to free up the caste system allowing people to move between them and they became increasingly vocal critics of some of the other policies implemented by the Clan Leadership saying it went against the principles of the Star-League their ancestors had fought to protect’ he said. ‘This Rogue Clan eventually declared it was seceding from the others initiating an all-out war around two-hundred and twenty years ago which became a fight for survival as the other Clans attempted to wipe them out’ Gaeta continued. ‘Some of them got away with much of their military equipment and a few warships and transports and after being hunted for months they eventually headed back to the Inner Sphere’ he said, changing the image to show a course that led from right at the top of the map, into the Inner Sphere then back out skirting the edge of the most populated part of human space until it arrived at a world on the opposite side of the Inner Sphere to the clans.

‘That’s some trip given their drives’ the ECO who had spoken earlier stated.

‘Yes it took them a couple of years because of the indirect route’ Gaeta agreed. ‘They also stopped off at several worlds to seize supplies and in one case they liberated some slave camps and freed a number of political prisoners held in Detention by the Successor State called the Draconis Combine.’

‘Slavery?’ a bridge officer from Pegasus said in surprise.

‘It was apparently illegal during the Star-League era but in the Neo-Feudal Successor States it isn’t unknown we’re told’ Gaeta responded. ‘Anyhow this rogue clan, now reinforced by thousands of very grateful people they recently freed decided they couldn’t stay in the Inner Sphere and so after establishing a temporary colony to gather supplies and prepare for a few years they eventually headed off again on another long journey which ended when they found a nice isolated planet in the middle of a Nebula fifteen-hundred light-years from most everyone else... they thought.’

‘And then one day a Raptor Pilot frakked up some jump-coordinates and accidentally found them’ Racetrack said loudly. ‘Yeah I admit it’ she said. ‘I frakked up but face it you all wish your successes played out half as well as my failures’ she declared to a chorus of laughter.

Gaeta laughed as well. ‘They called the planet New Circe because their colony back with the Clans was called Circe’ he told them. ‘They call themselves the Star-League-In-Exile because they consider themselves the last true remnants of what was basically a Golden Age for Earth and its colonies’ he continued, ‘and they also still call themselves Clan Wolverine too because the other clans tried to erase them from the history books and the galaxy and they failed’ he said.

‘Fleeing from the Clanner Tyranny, the last of the Star League Defence Force leads the survivors of attempted genocide on a lonely quest looking for a hidden planet in the ass-end of the galaxy to call home’ Racetrack said. ‘Someone should turn it into a TV show or something’ she said.

‘What was the planet like Racetrack?’ someone called out.

‘It was cold and they only let me, Skulls and the marines out of the military base they put us in for a little while, but you’ve got no frakking idea how good it was to look up and see sky and breath proper air outside even just for a few minutes’ the Raptor pilot replied. ‘And we saw a city, an actual city full of people just going about their business’ she added wistfully.

‘Do we know the population of New Circe?’ someone asked from the back.

‘Seven-hundred and fifty thousand’ Gaeta replied, ‘no more than a medium-sized city back in the Colonies but that’s still fifteen times what we have in the fleet’ he said. ‘When they got there only twenty-percent of New Circe was supposedly inhabitable because of the climate but they’ve been heating the planet up gradually by releasing chlorofluorocarbons into the atmosphere and it’s up to thirty percent now and rising, room for hundreds of millions already even if the oceans are pretty big.’

‘I want to run a few miles in a straight line again’ a pilot said quietly, ‘running round and around a ship isn’t the same’ she said.

‘They’ve offered to let us land a few thousand people at a time’ Racetrack told her. ‘They seemed okay, not that I could understand a damn word most of them were saying’ she admitted.

‘We’re still being followed by the Toasters’ a supply officer pointed out.

‘Yeah but if we jumped into the nebula where the planet is they would never find us’ Racetrack told him. ‘You should have seen all the interference on our DRADIS there, we were nearly right on top of the planet and still nearly missed it’ she said. ‘They’ll go right on by and the kicker is if they follow the course the Fleet was on they’re heading the wrong frakking direction because Earth isn’t the way we thought it was.’

‘So much for frakking superstition then’ someone else muttered. ‘I knew that Arrow of Apollo, constellations providing a map and course thing was a load of crap’ he opined.

‘You know I’ve been waiting but nobody has asked the right questions yet’ Skulls said loudly. ‘I’ll tell you anyway’ he continued, ‘yes they have bars and yes they have good looking women’ he informed them to a chorus of laughter.

‘What about the men Racetrack?’ a female officer checked.

‘Tall and hunky, and if you like blonds I saw plenty’ Racetrack replied.

‘Well none of us are going anywhere until Starbuck and the others get back from Caprica, and it’s up to the President and Admiral Adama to decide what we’re doing then anyway’ Gaeta said, ‘but in the meantime I’m authorised to tell you that Racetrack is going back to New Circe to accept an offer for one of their warships to join the fleet to provide additional protection to our civilians’ he announced. ‘We’re expecting company people so I suggest we all look sharp and act like it because if we show up the Colonial Fleet in front of the Thirteenth Tribe the Admiral will have us all thrown out of an airlock one by one’ he said then fixed his gaze on Racetrack. ‘Oh and the XO told me that if you manage to get lost again he’s going to have you cleaning this hanger floor with your tongue’ he told her, stamping his foot onto the metal deck.

‘She’s used it for worse things’ an anonymous voice declared to more laughter.

‘Only when I was really drunk’ the pilot responded with a shrug.

* * *

Battlestar Pegasus – Colonial Fleet – 3045CE

‘Alright as far as we know these people are completely human and completely friendly so lets be friendly ourselves’ the recently promoted Commander Lee Adama told his bridge crew, ‘but I still want us to be ready for a fight if this turns sour’ he continued knowing his father on Galactica would be doing the same. ‘A warship that is not of colonial origin is about to jump into the fleet, a warship with capabilities we’re not sure of, so I want it watched as closely as we can without painting it with active DRADIS’ he ordered before checking his watch, it was due any time he thought.

Arriving much like it would have using a colonial FTL drive the upgraded Wolverine Riga Class Destroyer Yukon arrived in a bright flash of light some distance from the fleet and broadcast its greetings in badly accented Caprican, or rather very good Ancient Greek as far as the Classics Teacher who found themselves onboard to translate was concerned. The warship waited until it received clearance to approach from Galactica and then used thrusters to re-orientate itself so it could accelerate towards the fleet which it did slowly, pushing its drives to only a fraction of their maximum thrust.

Lieutenant Brendan “Hotdog” Costanza had found himself the furthest Viper out flying CAP for the fleet in that area and was ordered to rendezvous with the Yukon and lead her in. Wishing to hell someone else had to do it instead of him he piloted his aging Viper Mark II towards the Yukon while Galactica explained what he was doing.

As he closed Hotdog estimated it was around six-hundred meters bow to stern and if those weren’t weapon emplacements stuck all over it, particularly on the nose, he was going blind. ‘This thing is packing some serious hardware’ he reported. ‘Looks like two large cannon and four large something else’s in the bow for a start Galactica’ he told them. ‘Got to be anti-capital ship weaponry’ he stated.

‘Colonial aerospace fighter, this is the SLS Yukon’ a voice broke in on his transmission. ‘Feel free to do a fly-by and take a close look but expect us to return the favour if you do’ it said. ‘Galactica be advised we have fifty aerospace fighters aboard and are at your disposal’ it continued, re-directing its attention from the approaching Viper to the Battlestar. ‘Do you wish us to support your fighter screen around the civilian vessels?’ it asked.

Hotdog guessed that the Old Man was thinking about that one. ‘That’s a negative at this time Yukon’ Galatica replied eventually.

‘Understood Galactica, we’ll be ready to assist if required’ the destroyer responded. ‘We also have five shuttles aboard and ten-thousand tons of food and relief supplies in our cargo bay’ it announced. ‘Our docking collars won’t match yours but we can start shipping the cargo onto Galactica and Pegasus for onward distribution from there’ it said. The flight bays on the two battlestars could easily accommodate the shuttles Yukon had bought with her and colonial shuttles and Raptors could ferry it on to the civilians.

‘You have our thanks Yukon’ the battlestar replied.

‘Don’t thank us too soon Galactica, a lot of it is Field Rations, they’ll keep you alive but flavour isn’t exactly a high priority’ the destroyer signalled back. ‘Our Captain says for you to please not assume the stuff that’s supposed to be meat is a hostile attack by biological weaponry’ the Yukon requested.

The sound of laughter from the Galactica end of the conversation had Hotdog grinning too. ‘Galactica this is Hotdog’ he interrupted. ‘I’ll volunteer to test it out’ he offered.

‘Clan Wolverine respects your bravery pilot but is concerned for your mental health’ the destroyer responded. ‘SLS Yukon requests a saner fighter escort Galactica.’

‘When you’ve met more of our viper pilots Yukon you’ll realise why that’s even funnier than you intended it to be’ Galactica Actual replied as the Star league vessel continued to close on the colonial ships.

Most of the civilian population of the fleet were crowded around every porthole or window they could find hoping for a good look at the approaching vessel as it neared. As it joined the other ships Yukon flew right by the luxury liner Cloud 9 where it was greeted by howls of joy from everyone except a blond woman once called Gina watching quietly on her own wondering what to do now. The “Demand Peace” movement had fallen apart as soon as the fleet had contacted the Thirteenth Tribe, bowing down to the Cylons no longer sounded like such an attractive option now another alternative was available, so her power-base such as it was had vanished.

Gina, one of countless type-six humanoid Cylons, yet still an individual in her own right looked placidly at the strange warship as it went past. If the rumours were true then Earth had founded a huge interstellar empire of sorts and presumably the Thirteenth Tribe enjoyed a suitably equivalent military might if riled. The Cylon fleet had been outgunned by the Twelve Colonies, which was why they had to resort to less direct means to defeat them, and the notion of finding themselves at war with two-thousand human worlds was deeply disturbing.

With the loss of the Resurrection Ship she could not even arrange her own death so as to be re-born back with the others where she could warn them, not that she wanted to live another lifetime, this one had been quite traumatic enough.

‘They’re supposed to have lasers that can cut through a Cylon Basestar like a knife through butter’ a man said loudly, breaking Gina out from her thoughts.

‘Lasers?’ someone else retorted doubtfully. ‘That’s stupid stuff from the movies.’

‘No really, I heard it from someone that heard it from a marine on Galactica’ the man insisted.

‘Who heard it from his sister's, best friend's bunkmate’ the doubter added, rolling his eyes.

But what if they do? Gina wondered to herself. The Cylons had tried to develop such weaponry and had eventually given it up as a waste of resources, but if the Thirteenth had the vast population they were rumoured to that meant an awful lot of genius scientists and engineers who might have solved all the inherent problems in perfecting the technology.

The cylon turned away, she considered detonating the nuclear device Baltar had given her, now hidden aboard this ship, thus ending it all there and then and obtaining some of the revenge on humanity she wanted, but she quickly dismissed that impulse. She needed to think of something better, something that might achieve something worthwhile, and as she headed off to get something to eat she wondered what other cylons among the fleet might be doing.

In his quarters on Galactica Saul Tigh was reading a briefing on their visitor provided by Commander Thorpe. ‘Star League Riga Class Destroyer’ he read aloud as his wife poured him a drink. ‘Upgraded along similar lines to the York Class now deployed by the Clans the SLS Yukon mounts two Heavy Naval Autocannon and four Medium Naval Particle Projection Cannon at the bow’ he continued, reaching for his drink, ‘I wish I knew what that meant’ he grumbled, scanning down the rest of the armament, none the wiser as to its capability. ‘The Yukon currently carries thirty Kirghiz Heavy Fighters and twenty Visigoth Medium Fighters both of clan design.’

Tigh sipped his drink, Adama had queried how the Wolverines had managed to obtain equipment developed by their enemy after they left clan-space long behind and this had led to some mirth from Commander Thorpe as he explained. Supposedly there was a group of long-distance traders called the Jarnfolk who operated all the way from the edge of the Inner Sphere up to Clan territory and the Wolverines had studiously developed links with them as a means of maintaining contact with a disaffected element of Clan Society called the “Bandit” or “Dark” Caste. These outcasts were generally ostracised from normal clan society but one of the clans, Clan Burrock, had secretly established and maintained cordial relations with the Dark Caste. Burrock specialised in the employment of aerospace fighters as the core of its tactical doctrine and although they weren’t about to give the Dark Caste anything close to state-of-the-art they had leaked two older designs for fighters, the Kirghiz and the Visigoth, with the blueprints eventually making their way to the Wolverines decades after the clans had started using them.

Although the Visigoth design was nearly a hundred years old and the Kirghiz over half again as aged, both were still considered capable craft remaining in front-line Clan service and they were both far superior to anything the Successor States could boast after centuries of economic disruption and technological regression. As soon as they got the plans New Circe had re-tooled its factories to produce them and began gradually replacing their older Star-League era aerospace fighters, relegating them to second-line duty or in some cases selling them anonymously back at the Inner Sphere for certain supplies they couldn’t easily make themselves.

‘This frakking thing masses a hundred tons’ Tigh said in amazement, reading about the Kirghiz. ‘That’s twice what a Raptor weighs for Gods sake’ he exclaimed. ‘It must turn like a crippled mining ship’ he stated, taking another drink from his glass.

Ellen Tigh poured a drink for herself. ‘Do you think we could swap them a Viper or two for some better booze?’ she asked, earning a look of displeasure from her husband which soon shifted to a smile.

‘It had better be a couple of barrels of the good stuff’ Saul replied with a chuckle. ‘It takes time for Pegasus to replace them’ he said.

On Colonial One President Laura Roslin buttoned her jacket while her assistant Tory Foster read out a few points she should be sure to mention when being interviewed by the press in a few minutes time. Most of them revolved around “I led us to the Thirteenth Tribe and they’ve sent already sent one warship to protect us and have more ready to come to our aid if required” and the rest concerned the forthcoming election more directly. ‘We should arrange for you to visit New Circe and meet their leader as soon as possible’ Foster suggested, ‘’if we bring along a film crew and a couple of photographers to record you shaking hands we can have the pictures and story circulating before the ballot’ she said. ‘It’ll play great, we might even want to say something about two women guiding their respective nations, play the “mother of the people” angle.’

Roslin laughed. ‘Do I really look like the mother of the people?’ she asked.

Tory Foster flipped to another page. ‘Polling suggests that a fair proportion of the male electorate aged thirty-five to sixty wouldn’t mind breeding with you at least’ she replied, trying to keep a straight face.

‘Where does it say that?’ Roslin asked, reaching for Fosters file which was pulled away from her as Tory giggled, Roslin then joining in. ‘Damn it, you know once I start I can’t stop’ she complained, attempting to stifle it. ‘I'm supposed to look Presidential.’

‘Ma'am, right now you could go out there in front of the Press, drool for twenty minutes, take candy from a crying child on camera and still win the election’ Foster told her. ‘I’m aiming for a huge landslide here’ she said, ‘I’m not worried about Baltar getting more votes than you.’

Roslin fought down her giggles. ‘Why does it matter how much we win by?’ she asked.

‘Well I thought that Lord Protector Vaun might pay better than you and I need to establish my credentials if I want to get a new job’ Tory replied deadpan.

‘It’s true, there are no true friends in politics’ Roslin replied sadly before the two of them started giggling again. The President doubted that Gaius Baltar was in such a good mood right now.

Back on Galactica Doctor Cottle re-read the results of the medical tests carried out on their guests from the Thirteenth Tribe and grimaced before decided he had better deliver the news to Adama in person. The samples certainly didn’t match those taken from the various humanform cylons the colonials had on record but from their DNA he wasn’t entirely sure that these people were completely human either because a few thousand years of genetic drift couldn’t explain anywhere near the differences between their genes and anyone from the Twelve Colonies. He grabbed his lighter and a pack of cigarettes before heading for the CIC. ‘I was hoping to get hold of some better quality smokes dammit’ he growled, pocketing them and stamping off, the expression on his face ensuring everyone along the way gave him a wide berth, he was a miserable, cranky bastard at the best of times anyway.

* * *

Battlestar Galactica - Colonial Fleet – 3045 CE

Commander Marcus Thorpe SLDF couldn’t be more aware of the armed marines stood behind him and Professor Sundquist. He had already been told that the transfer of relief supplies from Yukon had been suspended and that his “invitation” to return to the ships brig lacked the usual inherent element of being voluntary. ‘They seem anxious about something’ he said to the academic. ‘Do you think the Yukon spooked them somehow?’ he suggested. ‘It’s probably a good thing we didn’t jump a battleship in’ he decided.

Admiral Adama entered, Thorpe immediately standing to attention. The doctor who had checked them out when they first arrived followed the Admiral in and took up a position next to him, half a pace behind as Adama faced his two guests. ‘You’re not human, not completely anyway’ he stated flatly, Sundquist translating in case the Commanders “Caprican” wasn’t good enough.

‘Yes we are’ Thorpe responded. ‘What makes you think otherwise?’ he asked in confusion.

‘We just got the results of your blood test and genetic screening’ Adama told him, holding up the piece of paper. Sunquist had to ask what genetic screening was and after being told it related to the “Code of Life” he realised that they must be taking about DNA and explained to Thorpe.

‘Ah, that took a while’ Thorpe responded, they must have fairly primitive equipment for checking DNA he decided, probably because their computers were crap. ‘I guess you picked up on the differences between us’ he said. ‘We are human we’ve just been... improved’ he told the Colonials. ‘This could take a while to explain’ he told them. ‘Can I get a glass of water?’ he requested.

An hour later President Roslin was watching Thorpe and Sundquist from the other side of the glass. ‘Genetic engineering?’ she asked Adama who was now stood beside her.

‘Extreme’ Adama confirmed. ‘They’re the product of several generations of what they called “improvements” to their DNA’ he said.

‘Improvements?’ Roslin queried.

Adama frowned. ‘How’s this for a start’ he said. ‘How old do you think the Professor there is?’ he asked.

‘Mid to late sixties?’ Roslin guessed.

‘Add twenty years to that, they live decades longer than we do’ Adama told her, obtaining raised eyebrows in return. ‘It gets better’ he continued wryly. ‘They’ve been bred to be stronger, faster and with quicker reaction times than what we would consider human norm’ he said. ‘They would consider what we call 20/20 vision to require corrective eye surgery’ the Admiral went on, ‘they have better immune systems, they don’t suffer from any hereditary diseases...’ he paused, ‘and apparently most of us look short’ he said, rolling his eyes at the last item of information. ‘Their average height is one-hundred and ninety centimetres for men and their line Infantry over two metres ten.’

Roslin stared at them. ‘Why would they do that to themselves?’ she asked.

‘They don’t seem to fully understand why we wouldn't’ Adama replied. ‘Culturally they’re so far removed from us on that issue it’s not funny’ he said. ‘If you want to hear the really disturbing part Thorpe and about half their population weren’t even carried and born, at least not as we think of it requiring a woman and a lot of pain medication, he was made in a lab and then gestated in a frakking box!’

‘A box?’ Roslin repeated wide-eyed.

‘They call it an “Iron Womb”, they just add an engineered sperm to an engineered egg put them inside the gadget, do some technical wizardry and so many months later they have a bouncing baby boy or girl’ Adama explained. ‘The children are adopted by families, usually the ones that contributed the genetic material’ he said. ‘They still have normal children the old fashioned way like we do as well, Sundquist was one, but like I said half of the people on New Circe were made in a vat including his mother which is why his own genes are like they are.’

‘That’s not all that far from being a cylon copy of a human’ Roslin stated.

‘I think they would take exception to that but I think an awful lot of our people would agree’ Adama replied, ‘especially the Sagittarons given the way they feel about medical science, or children for that matter’ he said. ‘Thorpe says that the other Clans have taken it even further since the Wolverines broke away, their infantry are a head again as tall as the Wolverines and built like power-lifters and supposedly they’ve also bred their fighter-pilots to be small and lean with large heads and increased blood flow into the brain to help them take more acceleration.’

Roslin looked at him incredulously. ‘That’s breeding people like racehorses or dairy cattle’ she declared.

‘The people of New Circe agree that’s taking the process a little too far but they argue if they ever have to fight the other clans again they wouldn’t want to be...’ Adama began then paused, ‘they wouldn’t want to be like us because any genetically enhanced race would clean our clocks’ he said.

‘Arrogant bastards’ Roslin swore.

‘I said much the same and Thorpe shrugged and said a fact is a fact, they’re physically superior to us’ Adama replied. ‘I told him there was more to it than that and that there was no gene for the human spirit’ he said. ‘He laughed and said the combination of genes that determined whether you had a tendency to either quit when the going gets tough, or keep trying regardless, was found centuries ago.’

Roslin crossed her arms. ‘So they think they’re better than we are?’ she asked.

‘Not in the way you mean, which is how I thought they meant it at first too’ Adama admitted. ‘It wasn’t like they were being particularly smug or superior as far as I could tell, and they claim not to consider themselves more valuable as people just because they can run faster or jump higher’ he said, ‘they just think of it as a statement of fact like I said before, they’re simply better on the whole at doing most things’ he told her. ‘That doesn’t mean that every single one of them is better than every single one of us, they just have a higher average.’

Roslin pursed her lips. ‘So to give an example our best pilots...’

‘Could probably hang with their average pilots’ Adama finished her sentence, ‘it’s just that their best might be a notch or two above that and they have less bad pilots because they deliberately weed out the negative traits and make sure the next generation won't have them’ he said. ‘Another century or two of this and we'd be barely the same species at them at all.’

Roslin considered that for a few moments then she latched on to something else he said. ‘We have bad pilots?’ she asked.

‘Bad might be overstating the case but I’ll say that some of them would never have made it through flight-school before the fall of the colonies lowered our selection standards’ Adama replied. ‘That’s another issue though’ he said. ‘What do you want to do about the guy that looks too good for his age and the Naval Intelligence Officer that was created by a geek in a labcoat not the Gods?’ he asked.

The President sighed. ‘Are we certain that they aren’t cylons?’ she asked.

‘Yes’ Adama confirmed, ‘if you can believe this cylon blood has fewer genetic markers that mark it out as distinct from ours than those two have’ Adama told her. ‘The cylons wanted to pass for colonial humans after all.’

‘Okay, now there's a philosophical issue to wrestle with’ Roslin replied, shaking her head. ‘How do we define human now?’ she asked rhetorically. ‘Has this information got out yet?’ she asked.

‘No Madam President’ Adama replied then paused. ‘Do you want it kept under wraps until after the election?’ he checked.

Roslin thought about that for a while. ‘No’ she said eventually. ‘Resume transferring the relief supplies and have them distributed’ she ordered.

‘You know this revelation could cost you a few votes in certain quarters’ Adama pointed out.

‘I still found the Thirteenth Tribe, and a planet I think most people in the fleet would still like to visit’ Roslin replied, ‘I might not get the landslide victory Tory was hoping for when the luddites and the religious extremists find out the people we found aren’t “people” by some arbitrary definition but I don’t think Baltar will benefit too much from that’ she said. ‘He already alienated some of those who might have voted for him in this situation otherwise when he came out against me banning abortion’ she reasoned. ‘They’ll probably think both of us are evil and just abstain from voting.’

‘So if “None of the Above” wins can I declare martial law and put in the President of my choosing?’ Adama queried.

‘I’ll have to check the Articles of Colonisation’ Roslin replied, playing along. ‘Who were you thinking of?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Saul Tigh could be relied upon to do what I told him’ Adama responded, ‘that's a big plus’ he said.

‘Ellen Tigh as First Lady?’ Roslin queried. ‘Is that wise?’ she asked.

‘Good point, it would have to be my son instead’ Adama decided, ‘no wait he wouldn't do what I told him’ he realised. ‘I need another candidate’ he said.

‘Why not yourself since you’re staging a military coup?’ Roslin asked curiously.

‘I’ve got a better desk than you already and I prefer my enemies to shoot me in the front not stab me in the back’ Adama answered then he snapped his fingers suddenly as he had an idea. ‘Tom Zarek!’ he declared.

Roslin blinked. ‘Why him?’ she wanted to know.

‘Because when I told him I’d shoot him for putting so much as a foot wrong he’d know I meant it’ Adama explained. ‘Other people might think I was bluffing.’

‘You have all the makings of a fine despot Admiral’ Roslin told him in an admiring tone.

Adama thought about that. ‘Well I do like giving a lot of orders’ he conceded.

‘So what would I be doing when this is going on and you establish the New Order?’ Roslin queried.

For a brief moment William Adama considered replying he would definitely have a position for her but he decided the double-entendre would be stepping so far over the line of what you could say to the President of the Colonies it would badly affect their future working relationship.

Note from the Author:

Yes Hunted Tribes is back... but in the spirit of nBSG it's been "re-imagined" to deal with the revelations of the second half of Season 4 and some of the information that came to light since regarding the fate of Clan Wolverine.

The Riga-Class Destroyer/Carrier was a good design which the Star-league was producing to replace older vessels when it collapsed. The Clans inherited quite a number and these were eventually refitted to produce the improved York Class. If they thought it was worth doing I assumed the Wolverines would too, with one world and a limited population they might lack the resources to build new capital ships from scratch but they could upgrade what they had a little.

There is some indication not only of a link between Clan Burrock and the Dark Caste but also apparently that the latter had some remaining ties with the Wolverines. We know the Jarnfolk encountered the clans (they really do trade over a huge area of space) and given where they operate and their culture it's likely they originally hailed from from became the Free Rasalhague Republic. I had the idea that the Wolverine/Minnesota Tribe raids against the Draconis Combine forces occuping that area, and especially the freeing of the slaves and political prisoners on Richmond, might have earned them a few points with the Jarnfolk who likely thought the clans were arseholes anyway.

The Kirghiz Heavy Fighter was first put into service in 2874 and the Visigoth a century before this Fic is set so that seemed long enough for the designs to eventually get to the Wolverines even if they are a long way away from the clans. They aren't the most modern omnifighters but they're decent machines and better than anything New Circe could develop itself given a limited population and industrial/R&D base.

The Clans bred and engineered their warriors to an extreme degree, Clan "Elemental" Infantry can be over seven and a half feet tall (2.28 metres plus) and they're built heavy. The Wolverines haven't gone quite that far but they've been "improving" their stock nonetheless. The Iron Womb technology was invented by the clans before the Wolverines left, the ones they have on New Circe are older designs but they work.

Although only half the population came from an Iron Womb there isn't any segregation between the two groups so by this point everyone on New Circe was either genetically engineered personally, and then gestated in a box, or at least one of their parents likely were. The other Clans call those who come from the Iron Wombs "Trueborn" and the rest "Freeborn" and the former consider the latter deeply inferior. The Wolverines haven't got such a hang-up about it, one of the first things they did after leaving the Clans was to completely abolish the caste System which had the invariably "Trueborn" military caste ruling over the "Freeborn" others, no Wolverine would want to be seen as thinking like one of "Nicholas Kerensky's Clanner bastards".

Regarding the Colonials they seem to have quite a luddite streak at times, and their technology base has regressed since the First Cylon War. Certain groups such as the Sagittarons would likely have a major problem with the Wolverines, they regard modern medicine as a sin against the Gods so I can't see them looking favourably on genetically modified people who came to term in a big metal cannister!