AFTERMATH : THE JOURNEY BEGINS

                                                                      PART FOUR

                                                                     AFTERMATH

          As they entered the large conference room, each man was handed a file.  Once the last Officer finally entered the room, took his file, and moved off to find a seat where he could, the door was sealed, and the security lock engaged.  He then moved to the table, took his seat between two of his brothers, and reached for the file.

          "This file," Lt. Christopher Durin began, "contains all the current information we have on the status of the Acropolis, the Solaria, and the Galactica.  It also contains the full list of the lives lost, and how many refugee ships that joined us before we began to move."

          Captain Roark Durin Peverell Potter-Lestrange, or, now that his name had become such a mouthful to say, just Roark Lestrange, stared down at the file with growing horror as he turned page after page, his already pale face going nearly white.  All of the Officers of the Colonial Counter-Intelligence Unit that had survived the massacre, some sitting at the long table, some leaning against the metal walls, and some sitting on the carpeted floor, were beginning to react in the same manner.

          Beside him, Rodolphus swore harshly as he turned the pages, and sitting on his right, his brother Harry had begun to shake his head in disbelief, his emerald eyes going wide in horror as the realization of just how many they had actually lost began to penetrate his dazed mind.

          Next to Harry, his husband Rabastan was reacting much like Rodolphus was, swearing sharply as he reached the last page.  "This is so bad," came a soft voice from down the table, making everyone lift their heads to look at him.

          "BAD, I think, is a bit of an understatement, Kyler," came the reply from another of the seated men in black and scarlet.

          "We're not going to have anywhere near enough warriors to make up the squadrons each of the Battlestars will need," Rodolphus spoke up in a far harsher tone than he had meant to, turning his head to look at their Commanding Officers.

          Admiral Roark, Commander Thorin, and Commander Adama looked at him with grave expressions, each nodded their agreement as they set the files on the table before them.  Sitting forward, he began, "Twenty-five surviving warriors from the Galactica, seventeen from the Solaria, eight from the Acropolis, and it looks like..." he turned to the page containing the information, "thirty-two from those Battlestars that were able to launch their viper pilots."

          A deep sigh sounded.  "Then we have no choice.  We're going to have to go ahead and put the cadets, ready or not, into uniform, and get them Viper trained as quickly as possible."

          Roark Sr. nodded as Roark, still under the effects of the Alpha blocker that shut his psychic gifts down until his shields were once again strong enough to handle them, leaned forward to look past his husband.  "How many cadets are there, Uncle?"

          Thorin turned his head.  "Just over eighty from the graduating class," he began, looking thoughtful as he tried to remember how many students had survived.  "Sixty-two from third yahren, fifty-nine from second, and sixty-five from first."

          Roark closed the file he yet held and lay it beside his open laptop, which was, as usual, humming as it worked on whatever information he had put into it.  "So," he sat back in his leather chair, looking around the room.  His mind slowly working on the problem.  "We have three Battlestars, two of which are still being repaired as we move, just over three hundred and fifty refugee ships," a pause as a troubled look entered his eyes, "Some of which should probably not even be flying, which we now have to protect with 82 fully trained warriors, those of us in Counter-Intelligence, and approximately 270 cadets that are going to have to be trained as we go."

          "That about sums it up, little brother," Dacian said, looking up from where he sat between his father and his own husband, Healer-Colonel Severus Prince Snape, who was scowling.  "We are also going to have to go ship to ship to check on their status, check for solium fuel leaks, evaluate the passengers, check on how much food, water, and fuel that they have as well as what medical supplies they have."

          "Which we have already begun to do in teams of three to five," Adama spoke up.  "We will also need to figure out what to do with the passengers on a ship deemed not able to fly. Most are overloaded as it is."

          Just as he finished several laptops began to issue what sounded like a warning, making their owners turn to them.  "Rory?  Boys?" Roark Sr. asked.

          Roark looked up, shaking his head.  "Nothing we can do anything about even were we able to," he told him quietly, his silver eyes deeply troubled by what was on his screen.