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"He met
well," the Cheif of Staff says with a sympathetic grin.
"Sure, right," ProConsul Hadran initials and pushes
over another stack.
"And?" the Cheif pushes another stack over to Hadran.
"Might work against a ganglia of disorganized
freebooters," Hadron points up between initializings.
"But isn't that the way its supposed to work out?" the
Cheif of Staff asks with interest, "They held out until Miltary Releif
could arrive."
"If you subscribe to that theory," Hadran replies,
"And with a Fleet and Military it can work out."
"But with surface forces tied up gaurding Installations and
the Fleet out confronting an Invasion of unknown dimension," the Cheif
of Staff correlates.
"Correct," Hadran answers her.
"By the Way," the Cheif tells the ProConsul, as she
transforms a pile into an Organized Pile, "Commander Adama sends a
regard with compliments as to the swiftness the Fleet was up and
running."
"He did," Hadran looks up from his work, then back to
the perpetual papryi, "With him out there, I was confident that he could
develope an accurate assessment of the Enemy."
Just what was he doing out there?" the Cheif inquires with
a bit of Question.
"We'll never know for sure will we," Hadran answers
without changing volume.
"First, the Galactica fails to respond to the Recall
Notice, and then appears out of nowhere to break up the Blockade and capture
two-thirds of the invading fleet," the Cheif quotes from her
memory.
"A couple centons earlier and he might have had His major
units too," Hadrans comments as he makes another mark.
"Cammander Adama had the safety of the Colonies to see to
first," the Cheif of Staff reminds Hadran, "And from what you've
discussed about Him before, I would be inclined to conclude that it would be
extremely difficult to trap His main units under any circumstance."
"Smart Kid," the Proconsul opens a bundles of print
outs.
"And between the Galactica and Atlantia, the Fleet did
apprehend the decided majority of the Confeiture freelance-units."
"You learn quickly," ProConsul Hadran agrees with his
Cheif of Staff's conclusions, "Adama sniffed out the Rat and bagged most
of his Footmen in the deal."
That ought to put a dent in the Confeiture's Operations,"
the Cheif of Staff says as she puts another organized pile onto a cart to be
sent to the proper repository.
"It will take Him awhile," Hadran agrees, "Maybe
a couple of Yahren even."
"There will always be enough riff-raff for those kind of
enterprises," the Cheif of Staff concedes, "But it will take Him
some time to put up a real threat."
"A threat of this magnitude anyways," adran remarks as
he skims a set of forms, he looks up, "And what has become of our
apprehensions?"
"Being held in the proper Detention," the Cheif
answers matter of fact, "Most of them like our Rehabilitation Program
and recommend it to their Friends."
Proconsul Hadran notes that the Cheif is saying this with one of
her half-serious expressions.
"The concept of running hot-water comes as quite a concept
to some of them," she continues, "Many of the preliminary
reports indicate that many of the Briggands had restrained themselves
to light looting rather than sustained pillaging in deference to the Colonies."
"The Benefits of Civilization," ProConsul Hadran says
with a straight face.
"So overall, would your rate the Fleet's performance as
Satisfactroy?" the Cheif asks as she glances of over a form,
"Hardly," Hadran doesn't mince words.
"Even with an expedited response-time given the
constraints?" the Cheif is interested.
"There will be excercises and drills," Hadrond
responds matter of the factly.
The Cheif of Staff is without a question for once but places her
seconding initial in a series of form-corners.
The ProConsul sees her kepping busy and goes on to explain,
"We can never be, 'Good Enough,' we can't afford to be."
"There are those civilizations that would like us to
be," the Cheif of Staff finishes for Hadran.
"Well somebody got their cubits-worth something out of
Acadamey," Hadran remarks as he runs over a port-form.
"One of the Dictums they have been pushing for several
yahren now," the Cheif has one of her half-serious expressions.
THadran leans back for a breather and clasps his hands,
"Yes," he answers with a half-reverant smile, "And we were
once known as the HOPE for the Colonies, but there are so few of us
now,"
"Sir?" the Cheif asks with official surprise.
Adama, myself,and of the last few left, Cain gone when he broke
the Cylon line, and Him, no one ever understood his reasonning."
"And Tigh, you mustn't forget Tigh," The Cheif
remembers.
If I can get another BattlesStar," Hadran begins.
"What of the new shipping under construction?"
The lighter ships can be commanded by the younger cohort Hadran
reasons, but Tigh belongs on a BattleStar, and unitl I can get him one, He
and Adama make a formiably lethal lethal team
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