Mathias waited until everyone at the table had quit flooding Lee Adama with questions and then he stood. “I hope all of you enjoyed the meal,” he said to the commanders of the various ships, “and the discussion. At 1000 hours tomorrow, we will make the first of eight jumps that will bring us to the rendezvous point with Galactica
and her fleet. As we speak, Lieutenant Agathon is working with our navigators to get the coordinates plotted and entered—there is no
margin for error here. Entering incorrect coordinates will send your vessel to a far distant destination with no hope of being recovered.”
He paused and let that sink in. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is up to you to make certain that the coordinates are checked, double-checked, and checked again. I have no intention of losing any ship on this operation,” Mathias said. “We will not
leave behind any ship on this operation. Is that understood?”
He waited until each commander nodded in turn.
“We will make one jump every day and perform a full system diagnostic on the FTL drives between jumps. While the Cylons routinely do jumps of this length, the Colonial Fleet has not. I want to be damned certain that everything is functioning properly. Scorpia
, and Anubis
will deploy a rotating CAP at twice the normal strength on each leg. If all goes well,” Mathias said with a smile, “then in nine days we will be rejoining the remainder of humanity’s survivors.”
He raised his glass, and first Colonel Jayne stood, and Major Caldwell, then Commander Adama, and Colonel Foeswan, and Jon Namer, and all the rest.
“Who dares—wins!” he snapped.
“So say we all!” thundered Tom Jayne.
“SO SAY WE ALL!” the others shouted in answer.