Patrolstar One launched smoothly from the hangar floor. It progressed through the door in the mountain with immense dignity. It hovered for a moment as the doors closed behind it, then rocketed up into space at a sharp angle.

On the bridge, Apollo sat back in his chair. He kept his face smooth, unreadable. It had finally begun- what could be the last journey. He had done everything he could think of to ensure the survival of the people left behind on Earth, should the Patrolstar not return. Now it was entirely up to them- one ship against an entire race of warriors.

It was time to see if human ingenuity was truly capable of outwitting Cylon artificial intelligence.

The journey was uneventful. The crew had been trained well and thoroughly and the ship was in excellent working condition. It took three days at maximum speed to reach Gamoray, days spent acting properly in public and then engaging in wild, desperate sex with Starbuck at night. The military man in him knew that Starbuck was essential to the attack- he was the only one qualified to pilot the Striker, not to mention the hottest ace to grace a cockpit since Apollo had taken over bridge command- but the private man was terrified of losing his lover. So every available minute found them in bed together... or on the floor, or in the chair, or on the desk...

"Sir!"

Apollo focused his attention on Lois, the astrogator. "Yes?"

"Approaching coordinates for Gamoray now, sir."

"Helm, throttle back to one quarter light speed and raise cloak."

"Aye, sir." Jedran dropped the craft out of lightspeed. The streaks on the viewscreen abruptly resolved into stars. The proximity alarm gave a blip, announcing the presence of twelve Cylon base ships orbiting around a nearby planet.

"Cloak engaged... now, sir."

Apollo nodded with satisfaction. It was the cloaking technology which had enabled Patrolstar One to break the power of the space pirates before the Second Destruction. Now it gave the lone craft its biggest advantage against the fleet ahead. The only serious drawback to the device was that the craft could not engage weapons systems while cloaked, which only troubled Apollo a little bit. For some reason, he didn't even want to blow Cylons out of the sky with such an unfair advantage. He clicked on the comm button.

"Bridge to Strike Captain. Ready for a little action down there?"

"Ready and waiting, Major," Starbuck's voice replied. "Bring 'em on!"

"The information we received was correct. All twelve base ships are in orbit around the planet. Estimated time to arrival..." He glanced at Jedran.

"Nine minutes, thirty-six seconds, sir."

"Nine minutes. All fighters on alert status. Be ready to carry out the first stage of the attack at my mark."

"Gotcha, Major. Strike Captain out."

Apollo had to smile despite his tension. Some things would never change... Starbuck would be insolent and cavalier to the very end.

Tense silence descended upon the bridge of the Patrolstar. Invisible behind her cloak, she sped in towards the menacing hulks ahead. The minutes ticked away slowly.

When the Patrolstar was close enough to the cluster of orbiting base ships to count the external gun turrets, Apollo ordered a full stop. Time to carry out phase one of the plan. How fortunate he had a dozen pilots... plus Starbuck, of course.

"Strike Captain, launch your fighters now for the first wave."

"Understood."

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then six Vipers became abruptly visible, beyond the distortion of the cloaking field. They were followed by six more Vipers, and one craft that was similar, but vastly different.

"Come back safe to me, Captain," Apollo whispered, then watched as the Vipers pulled off their run under ideal conditions. The Cylons were taken completely unaware by the colonial warships which appeared from nowhere and hit the communications center of every base ship. The Vipers finished the attack run and turned back towards the Patrolstar.

A few raiders launched to deal with the surprise attackers. Apollo hoped the scout had reported correctly and the base ships were only run by skeleton crews, otherwise there was little hope of success.

The Striker was the first to score a hit. Apollo belatedly flipped on the radio monitor. The sounds of the battle filled the room- pilots cheering, swearing, panicking under fire... and Starbuck holding them all together.

Another wave of Cylon fighter craft approached, but they were in complete disarray. The lack of communications was clearly hindering them as they struggled to deal with the attackers.

"It's time- drop cloak and commence attack run on base ships." Apollo sat back down. Somehow he'd risen to his feet without realizing it, as he watched for one nearly invisible craft among many. The midnight blue paint of the Striker was nearly as effective as a cloaking device.

Patrolstar One shot forward at attack speed. The gunner reported all weapons systems online and fully operational.

"You know the drill, then- knock out all major gun turrets and then recharge between targets." Apollo held his breath as the attack began. The patrolstar swept past the base ship and around behind it in a slingshot maneuver designed to wrap them around each base ship in turn. The weapons of the first went down without a single mishap, but the second ship was more alert. Jedran held the helm steady, allowing the shields to absorb the hits, as the gunner destroyed targets with methodical precision. Apollo kept one ear tuned to the running commentary of the fighter pilots as they continued to wreak havoc among the raiders.

At last the run was complete. "Good job, everyone- now pull up and cloak." Apollo sighed and leaned back in his chair. He'd done all he could.

"Bridge to Strike Captain," he broke into the Vipers' transmissions. "Commence phase two. Main guns destroyed on all base ships."

"Understood. Wish us luck!"

"Good luck, Captain." Apollo watched, heart in throat, as phase two went into action. The twelve Vipers split into four groups of three- one to attack a base ship, two to guard againts raiders, which were appearing in increasing numbers. Apollo estimated his pilots were outnumbered by at least six to one. A Viper- or a Striker- was small enough to slip in close to a base ship and target the core, causing a chain reaction which would explode the entire craft.

"C'mon, kids, let me show you how it's done!" Starbuck's voice called over the radio as he sent the Striker in for the first run. "Hit 'em square in the exhaust port- they'll blow within the minute, so get the hell away from it."

Starbuck rolled and twisted the Striker through the wave of enemy defenders. He made it look easy as he swept in close to the crippled base ship, searching for the right port. He located it and shot off his solenite torpedoes. Then he pulled up and cleared out at full speed, just before the base ship exploded. The concussion wave from the explosion rocked the patrolstar and loud cheering was audible over the radio.

The other pilots were not as succesful as Starbuck. Only a total of three Cylon ships went up on the first run. The Vipers regrouped, minus one. Shakes, the least confident pilot, had miscalculated his run and crashed into the hull of the target. It was over in an instant.

"All right, kids- let's do this again," Starbuck called. Apollo could hear the strain in his voice. He knew Starbuck would be in agony just now over the loss of a pilot, which he would see as his fault. "And this time you know what to expect. Remember, let your wingmen take care of the raiders, you focus on the target. Cyclops, Red- cover me."

This run was more successful. Only one of the Cylon craft remained when the Vipers disengaged.

"Good job, kids, but you left one! Who wants it?"

"I'm on it." Priss- a girl who was likely to smash admirers into a wall for calling her pretty- replied grimly. She went in alone, since her wingmates had been vaporized on the last run. The survivors of the Viper squadron grouped together and covered her back, all eight of them... plus Starbuck.

"Got it!" Priss's Viper rocketed away from the final base ship, doing barrel rolls of success. The entire squadron reformed and flew at top speed to the waiting Patrolstar.

Apollo rose. "As soon as you receive confirmation the warriors have all returned, get us out of here," he said to Jedran, unable to keep the triumphant smile off his face. He left the bridge and strode rapidly to the turbolift, swearing at it impatiently as it took him to the dock. The doors opened and he exploded out into the landing bay in time to see Starbuck emerge from the Striker. He let loose a whoop and ran to meet his love, who jumped down from the cockpit and held out his arms.

"We did it! We really did it!" Apollo yelled, swinging Starbuck around.

Starbuck laughed. "Easy, Pol, easy! You're going to bust my eardrum!" He stopped Apollo's gyrations by picking him up. He laughed again at the Major's indignant struggles, then kissed him and set him down. "Yes, we really did it," he said softly. "Together."