************Disclaimer*************
This is a work of fiction, written purely for enjoyment purposes.  No
infringement of copywrites is intended.  I have made no profit from this work.
************************************



                              Prologue


     Bojay checked the status on the scanners.  The probes were in place and
functioning, reporting data back to his Viper's computer systems.  From there,
it was sorted, filed, and storedon a miniture storage chip.
     He cut power to the engines, allowing the ship drift.  It would take
nearly a centar at zero thrust to come to the next navigational mark, an
invisible point in the star system.  From there, he could make the last sweep
through the outer orbits, download the data waiting in the probes on that
side.
     The data Leiutenant Bojay was collecting could be of vital importance to
the Colonial war effort against the Cylon Empire.  With the probes' wide range
of detection, Cylon troop movements, shipping and supply routes, and current
garrison strengths on the system's planets would be known.  Over nine hundred
yahren previously, the Twelve Colonies had become caught in the Cylon war,
when the Cylon war machine marched into the Hasarii system, collapsing the
civilization in a matter of days.
     In honoring mutual agreements, the Colonial Fleet had attempted to move
in, and resist the Cylon units.  However, that had merely been the opening
salvo in a war that had dragged on in a near-stalemate for nearly a millenium
since.
     Now, the Colonies were ready to strike.
     Colonial Fleet Command had planned and manuevered for several yahren,
waiting for the proper centon to launch an all-out invasion of the Cylon-
occupied Hasarii homeworld.  Once the Hasarii were liberated once again, the
Fleet would continue to push the Cylon forces back, literally throwing
everything they had at the front lines, until the Cylons were blockaded at
Zeta Omnicon.
     But first, information was required.
     Bojay knew that the Hasarii were far from a beaten people.  As he
understood, there were small pockets of resistence left, forming an
underground network.  Colonial Intelligence, it was rumored, was supplying the
forces with weapons and equipment, in exchange for as much information that
could be sent, radioed, or beamed out.  It was even rumored that one of the
ringleaders of the Picean syndicate, a man named Pacino, was taking an active
role in helping the Hasarii, sending in load after load of captured Cylon
weapons.
     However, in order for a successful invasion to take place, more would
have to be known about Cylon fleet operations in the system.  That sort of
information could not be gained from outcast guerrilla resistence fighters on
the ground.
     So Commander Cain had sent in Bojay.
     Cain had swept the Pegasus close to the system nearly three sectons ago,
launching scanner probes on carefully laid out, zero-thrust ballistic courses.
As they passed through virtually undetectable, passive sensors recorded
everything that happened within their scanning range.
     Now, the time had come to retrieve the data.  A lone Viper, outfitted
with a special range-finder and scanning equipment, would sneak in, trigger
the probe's data dump, and then retreat. The probes would be left in place, so
the invasion fleet would be able to access even more recent data.  Bojay had
volunteered for the mission.
     Bojay had just 'rounded the corner,' as it was known in pilot's circles,
and downloaded the last of the sensor data.  Now, in order for his mission to
be successful, he would have to arrive on the Pegasus with the now-full
datachip.
     Which looked like it might be more difficult every passing micron.
     Alarms triggered in his cockpit.  Bojay scrambled for buttons, bringing
up his displays.
     Cylon fighters.
     It looked to him like a whole squadron was launching.  
     He considered his options.  He was far enough out now he could probably
punch up his turbos, and safely leave the system.  With any luck, after he
crossed back into interstellar space, the Cylons would turn back, perhaps
believing he had just been on his way in.
     On the other hand, that squadron he saw lifting might just be routine
manuevers for the Tin-heads.  They might not even know he was there at all,
since he had run very close to total EmCon the entire time.  If he continued,
they may ignore him altogether.
     But Bojay then realized that he could not simply dart back out of Hasarii
space, since the shortest line out of the system would merely take him deeper
into Cylon territory.
     As he sorted out his thoughts, the Viper's nav comps had been working as
well.  It was obvious from their course and formation that the Cylon squadron
was after one thing: him.
     Which left one option: engage the enemy, punch a hole through them, and
make a fast run back to Colonial territory.  Risky, yes, but the odds were not
any worse than any Viper pilot faced every day this war went on.  Besides, if
the Cylons were to disable his ship without completely destroying it, they
would soon learn of the passive probes, and they would most assuredly bring in
reinforcements to meet any sort of invasion fleet that might come along.
     Bojay flipped up the switches that brought his weapons systems and
targeting back online, then fired up his engines.  He gritted his teeth, then
swung the small fighter in an arc that took him directly at the oncoming
squadron.
     If they are going to take me out, he thought, they are most definitly
going to pay for it!

**********************************

                              1

     "I'm tellin' ya Colonel, you won't take me with yer bluff again!"
Sergeant Dawson
exclaimed as he tossed several of the smooth pebbles into the center of the
table.  "I know I've got ya beat this time."
     "Yes, Dawson, just like the last time.  You'll have to go hunt for more
rocks," said
Corporal Hovis.
     Colonel Crane grinned, matched the 'bet' placed by the Libran
infantryman.
     "It'll cost you six more to find out," Crane replied, as he placed the
apropriate number of pebbles out.
     "Bah, too rich for my poor blood," said Leiutenant Clary with his
distictive Hasarii accent, and threw down his cards disgustedly.
     "Same here," said Hovis, and folded his hand.
     "I can't believe you are going to be taken in by him that way twice in
the same game," said Dawson.  "He can't win this one."
     "If you are so sure, Sergeant," said Crane, "then bet!"
     Dawson looked over his cards again, and fingered his ever-shrinking pile
of pebbles, then counted out six.
     "I call."
     Crane smiled, and laid the cards on the table, face up.
     "Three-quarter pyramid!"
     A chorus of groans came from around the table.
     "Hey, I used to play the pilots on shore-leave at Caprica Prime, I had
lots of practice," said Crane, with a bit of humored defensiveness in his
voice.  "What else would an Assault Team Commander do between missions?"
     "Hey Colonel, what are you going to do with all those rocks?" Hovis
asked.
     "Going to collect as many as I can, then use them to build a staircase
over the fence."
     A slight tapping noise was heard, seemingly from the corner of the room.
Dawson stood from the table, and tapped a spot on the frame of the top bunk
near the corner.
     A set of pully-and-cable rigs pulled the mattress and support upward,
simultanously dropping a ladder downward.  A black man in Caprican Infantry
fatigues climbed the ladder, then tapped the catch twice again to return the
mattress and ladder to their normal positions.
     "Incoming message from Caprica, Colonel."  He handed Crane a slip of
paper.
     Crane scanned the message.
     "Well guys, looks like we might have some work to do.  Intelligence seems
to have lost one of their fancy fighter pilots out here."
     "A Viper?  Here?" Hovis asked.  "What is happening, did the Fleet come in
and forget to take us out of here?"
     "No, says it was a recon flight, and they think he crashed near here.  We
are supposed to contact him, then get him out through the Underground."
     "Sounds simple 'nuff," said Dawson, "Wonder what the catch is?"
     "They probably don't want him to get lonely down here," replied Clary.
     "Where did he go down?" Hovis asked, and Dixon consulted a second slip of
paper.
     "The Pegasus lost contact after a brief running firefight with a squadron
of Raiders. According to last known trajectory they picked up from the
transponder, he should have crashed about 6 metrons from camp."
     "Hmm, too far for a quick sneak-out, someone would miss roll call," mused
Crane.
     "Would Cy cover for us?" asked Hovis.
     "No, I don't think so.  Not for that long.  No, this is going to require
that we get some help.  We'll need some transportation, and an escort."
     "Just where do you think we can get that?" Clary asked.
     "Why, from Klemper, of course!" Crane said.  "I'll be back."  He grinned,
then turned to leave the barracks.


     "I am sorry, Colonel Crane, but the Commander can not be disturbed."  The
monotone voice from the centurian seemed to leave no room for negotiations.
     "That's OK, Cy, I'll only be a micron," Crane said quickly, and moved to
pass the silver-clad guard.
     "I can not even allow that, Colonel."  The Cylon raised his laser rifle
to cross his body, effectively blocking the entrance to the door behind him.
     "But Cy!" Crane raised his voice slightly, adding a bit of childish whine
to his tone.
     "Orders are orders, Colonel.  You should be aware that Commander Klemper
expects his to be obeyed at all times."
     "OK, OK, Cy, I know, you are just following orders.  I guess it will have
to wait."  Crane seemed reluctant as he turned away.
     "Thank you, Colonel.  I would not like any unfortunate incidents to
occur."
     "Oh, no, Cy, I understand.  Really I do."  He took a few steps toward the
outer door, then turned back again.  "I just hope he doesn't blame you for it,
that's all."  Crane again turned as if to leave.
     "Colonel Crane."
     "Hmmm?"
     "What do you mean, 'Blame me?'"
     "Oh, nothing, Cy.  It's probably nothing."  Crane paused, then repeated,
"probably."
     The bad thing about Cylons, Crane thought, was that you can't read their
expressions under that armor, with nothing but that blasted eye-scanner
bouncing back and forth.
     "Probably?"
     "Yes, you are right, Cy, probably nothing.  Just, just forget I was here,
OK?"  He turned and opened the door.
     "Colonel.  I think you should see the Commander."
     "What?" Crane turned back from the door.  "I thought he wasn't to be
disturbed?  I don't want to get you in trouble, you know!"
     "Colonel, I insist that you come in here and speak to Commander Klemper
immedietly!"
     "Are you sure?  I'm sure it can wait."
     "Consider it an order, Colonel Crane."
     "Well, Cy, you put it that way, I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"
Crane grinned as he stepped past the silver centurian.


     "Colonel Crane, I left orders that I was not to be disturbed!  Dis-
missed!" The IL Series Cylon leaned toward the human in his command center.
It was one thing to have his considerable talents wasted by the High Command
running a prison camp, but to have to put up with the likes of Crane was
simply infuriating.
     "I know, Commander, so that's why I didn't knock."  Crane found a seat,
and made himself comfortable in it.  Cylon anatomy was slightly different than
human, so it was not really as easy a task as he made it look.
     "Are you still here, Colonel?  I distinctly recall dismissing you," the
computer-synthesized voice began to sound a bit stressful.
     "Commander, I have a serious matters to report to you."
     "Are you sure there is no one in this camp senior to you?  Why did the
Universe have to give me you as senior officer of the POWs in my camp?"
Klemper wondered.
     "Well, Commander, it's just my bad luck that we got stuck here with such
a dedicated, skilled, outstanding officer in charge here.  The escape
committee can't make any headway into getting us out of here, you know, with
you running around here being so darned efficient!"
     "That is true," mused Klemper.  "There has never been an escape from
Reformatory Thirteen as long as I have been in command."
     "And don't think those boys back at Zeta Omnicon don't know it, either.
I'll bet you that's why there as been so many Kentra plots to undermine you,"
Crane said blatently matter-of-factly.
     "Hmmmm . . ." Although it was impossible, Crane could have sworn he saw a
frown forming on the IL Cylon's facial features.  "That's true, the Kentra
always seems to be jealous of my perfect record."
     "Don't I know it!"  Crane sat straighter, as though suddenly remembering
something.  "By the way, Commander, I'm here to tell you about an escape
plot."
     If a look of surprise could occur on Klemper's face, it would have been
there.  As it was, the Cylon could not keep the tone of his voice from
betraying his feeling of distrust.
     "And you are here informing me of this?"
     "Of course!" Crane nearly snapped back.
     "For what reason would you inform on your own men?" Klemper kept the
suspicious tone.
     "Why Commander, you know what would happen.  He breaks out, how far can
he get?  Under your brilliant guidance, and strict discipline with your own
troops, you'd have him tracked down within a couple of centars.  And for what?
Just to have him thrown in the solitary chambers?  Or even worse," Crane shot
an evil glare at Klemper, "one of your troops loses his head and shoots him on
sight."
     "Hmm, that could happen.  They are, after all, only Centurians."
     "Yes, Commander, and inferior Centurians at that.  Why, Cy is the only
one worth his chrome that you've got!"  Crane stood up, and moved toward the
door.  "But, since it's obvious I'm disturbing you . . ."
     "Colonel."  Klemper whirled to face Crane.  "Just where do you think you
are going?"
     "Well, Commander, you dismissed me, remember?  I have to help the guys
sort out the laundry."
     "Colonel, why do you do this to me?  I hope you are not typical of humans
throughout the Colonies?  A planet full of men like you would be enough to
make me disconnect my own circuits."
     "Oh, no, Commander, I'm just one of the special ones.  See you at roll
call!"  Crane said quickly, then ducked out the door before Klemper could stop
him.


                              2


     "How'd it go Colonel?" Hovis asked when Crane returned to the barracks.
The men had resumed the card game, with Dixon taking Crane's empty seat.
     "Pretty well.  Cy didn't shoot me."
     "Will we get what we need?" Dawson wondered.
     "Probably.  I've at least got his circuits steaming, wondering which one
of us is escaping."
     "Escaping?" Dawson exclaimed.  "Where would we go?"
     "No, no one is really going to escape.  Just temporarily."
     "Well, that's different then."
     "I'll say," said Hovis.  "I'd really hate to be out dodging Cylons out
there right now.  It's winter, and pretty cold.  If we escape, let's make it
in spring so we have all summer to get off-planet."
     Dixon and Crane shot Hovis a 'shut-up' look.
     "What's the plan, Colonel?" Clary asked.
     "Well, since this is your world, I'm going to have you be the one.  Makes
it more
believable that way, you know."
     "Of course, it's me," Clary grumbled.  "It's always me, and always
because I know this world."
     "Aww, it'll be fun, Clary!"  Crane said.  "Besides, Hovis and I will be
with you.  More or less, I guess."
     "What about us, Colonel?" Dawson asked.
     "I want you and Dixon to hold things down here, just in case anything
happens when we are gone.  It won't be for a couple of days, if this works, so
stand by.
     "Clary, you hide in the tunnel, you are going to miss roll call.  When we
give you the signal, you will be outside by the road, and catch a ride with
us."
     "I wonder if it would be that easy to simply get the Cylons off the whole
planet," wondered Hovis. "Why, I'll bet with a little bit of solenite, some
quick talking . . ." he trailed off as he noticed the others staring at him
again.

     With Clary tucked away under the convertible bunk, the group again
continued the card game, mostly as a diversion while they worked on their
plan.  Then, they finally heard the servomotors of Cylon armor, and Cy came
through the door.
     "And I'll see yer six rocks an' raise ya another four!" Dawson said, a
little loudly.
     "Sure, and why don't you throw in your mother's sealing ring as a bonus
this time?" Crane quipped.
     "I am sorry to interrupt, but it is time for roll call."
     "Oh, we're all here Cy," Crane said over his shoulder.  "Except for
Clary."
     "That does not matter.  The commander wants you all in formation for . .
. Did you say except for Clary?"
     "That's right," Dixon said.  "He escaped a little while ago."
     "And why was this not reported?"
     "Cy, you told me the Commander was not to be disturbed.  And seeing as
how I'd already disturbed him once . . ." Crane said, clearly shifting blame
to Cy.
     A sound that might have passed for laughter came from the Cylon's voice
circuits.
     "It is amazing, your sense of humor you humans have.  I am just beginning
to
appreciate it."
     "No joke, Cy," Dawson said.
     "Of course it is a joke.  It can not be true.  No one can ever escape
Reformatory
Thirteen."
     "Yes, well, except for Clary," Crane muttered.
     "OK, all of you, outside in formation!  I will prove to you that Clary is
here."
     A rustle of near disbelief went through the men as they moved outside of
the barracks, and assumed thier places for the roll call formation.  As names
were called out singly, an echo of voices was heard to confirm each name as
present, except for the name of Clary.
     "All right, where is Clary?" Cy asked.
     "I told you, Cy, he escaped!" Crane insisted.
     "That is not possible." 
     The door to the command center swung open, and a robed IL Cylon made its
way across the compound, flanked by two centurians.
     "Centurian, Report!" Klemper called out.
     "Commander, all prisoners are present and accounted for," Cy called back,
then
lowered his voice several decibles.  "Except for Clary."
     "Very good, Centurian . . .  What did you say?" Klemper demanded.
     "Sir, I'd like to report that Leiutenant Clary has managed to escape,"
Crane said.
     "Bah!  Impossible!" Klemper insisted.  "No one ever escapes Reformatory
Thirteen!"
     "OK, Commander, suit yourself."  Crane shrugged.
     "Clary!" Klemper called out to the group.  "Where are you?"  No voice
answered.  He regarded Crane's grin momentarily, then spun and barked orders.
     "Guards!  Call out the duty patrol!  He can't have gotten far!"  Klemper
turned back
toward the group of prisoners, and spat out "Dis-Missed!"
     As the group moved out, alarms rang, and several groups of centurians
scrambled out of various buildings.  Very shortly, they converged into a
single unit, and moved out the gates.
     "How long until we actually go, Colonel?" Hovis asked.
     "Well, I say we give it about a cycle, by then, Klemper will be so
worried about his 'perfect record' of no escapes, that he'll be about to
short-circuit.  He'll be more likely to listen to me then."
     The prisoners watched in near-amusement as they saw the clumsy, slow-
moving centurians thrashing through the wooded area outside the compound.


*********************************

                            3

     Bojay piled another branch of foliage over his crashed ship.  It had been
damaged so badly, he doubted that even the Viper techs on the Pegasus could
revive it again, assuming they could even get it there.  No, it looked like it
would be a total loss.
     At least he had the datachip.  He had destroyed the collection scanners
almost immedietly, hopefully smashing them beyond recognition, in case the
Cylons ever did find it and try to figure out what he had been doing there.
     Now, the trick was to stay alive, and hopefully, get off-planet with it.
Bojay doubted that he would ever see that happen, since the situation was too
critical to risk a rescue attempt.  With any luck, he would be able to cover
the operation plans to invade the Hasarii system.
     He recalled the fact that there was an underground network of resistence
fighters, and figured that eventually they would make some sort of contact
with the Colonies.  If he could find them, at least they would be able to find
out he was alive, and the invasion plans had not been seriously compromised.
It was a long-shot, but it was also possible that he could manage to get a
ride out of there with a merchant frieghter, or maybe even steal a Cylon ship.
     Now that he'd covered his ship as best he could, he wanted to get as far
away from it as possible.  It would only be a matter of time until Cylon
infantry found the wreckage, and he didn't want to be there when they did.
     Bojay checked the power on his laser, confirming it was charged and
ready.  He found the survival kit that was standard-issue for all pilots, and
located the extra charge capsules for it.  A quick inventory of the rest of
the supplies, and he began to move out.
     With just a little blessing from the Lords of Kobol, he just might even
figure out where he was moving out to.

*********************************


                              4

     "Colonel," whined the computer-generated voice of Klemper.  "Do you know
why I've sent for you?"
     "Perhaps the war has ended, and you are going to order me to pack up
everything and get ready to go home?" Crane asked with an arched eyebrow.
     "No," the IL replied, sounding almost annoyed.
     "Ummm, you've been promoted, and given your own command on the front
lines?"
     "Absolutely not!" Klemper snapped.  "A front line position has a much too
low functional-expectancy for someone of my great command skills."
     "Well, maybe our Fleet is kicking you guys so hard that Imperious Leader
decided that he needs some real talent out there leading some base ships."
     "Colonel, may I remind you that for all the territory we've taken from
you humans, you have yet to take and hold any of it back?"
     "Yes, but we are just waiting for the perfect centon to do it, all at
once," Crane grinned.
     "Colonel!  I . . ." Klemper stopped, realizing he'd just been drawn away
from the subject that he had summoned the Senior POW Officer to discuss.
     "Colonel, I find myself in need of your guidance."
     "You?  You need help from me?" Crane feigned surprise.  "What could a
highly intelligent sentient computer need help with from me?"
     "It is true, I possess superior analytical skills, given the proper
circumstances.  However, I find myself lacking in information from which to
work."
     "No, I don't believe it!"
     "Yes, yes, it is true," Klemper explained.  "You see, my downloaded
parameters had very little information regarding how you humans thought
process works.  You understand, if I were to truely know how you think, then
it would be a simple matter for me to easily apprehend the missing prisoner.
     "You, however, would think as he does.  Perhaps he even talked to you
before he so brazenly left my encampment.  If you could help me out, it would
go far in securing the favor of my superiors."
     "What?" Crane exclaimed, with an overdone look of shock.  "You want me to
help you capture Clary?  What makes you think I would do that?"
     "Colonel, you confuse me.  You were in here only yesterday, informing me
of the planned escape attempt.  Why will you not help me now?"
     "Because, Commander, that was before he escaped.  Now he's out there, and
has a full day's head start.  If he didn't have a full day on you, we wouldn't
be talking now.  No, it's my duty now to see that he gets away."
     "Be reasonable, Colonel.  Rest assured, that regardless of whether you
help or not, it is only a matter of a short time until the prisoner is
recaptured and returned here to Reformatory Thirteen."
     "Well," Crane paused, tapped his fingers as though trying to come to a
decision.
     "Commander," he said finally, "I want your assurance that you will not
take any excessive punishment against Clary once he is back in our custody."
     "Absolutely, Colonel," replied Klemper.  "I would think that this minor
escape attempt would only be worth, oh, perhaps 60 days in the Solitary
Chambers."
     "Sixty days?" exclaimed Crane.  "You're insane!"
     "That, Colonel, is simply not possible, since I am a computer."
     "Oh, yes, it is.  You should see how insane that new operating system
from Colonial Computron acted when they first released it."
     "I fail to see the relevance between my programming and inferior human
technology."
     "Boy, inferior, you've got that right, when it comes to Computron."
     "Colonel!" Klemper stood quickly.  "I remind you that you are here and my
order.  I insist we discuss the issue at hand."
     "If you think 60 days in Solitary is fair, then the discussion is over."
     "All right, Colonel, what do you think is fair?"
     "I say no more than one secton."
     "Absolutely out of the question!" Klemper raised his voice.
     "I think that's more than fair," Crane snapped.  "After all, you know as
well as I do that a prisoner's first duty is escape."
     Klemper made an incomprehensible noise, and was silent for a few microns.
     "All right," the Cylon finally spoke.  "One secton in the Solitary
Chambers.  Assuming, of course, that he can be recaptured without incident."
     "OK, Commander," Crane said after a moment's thought.  "I'll help you.
On MY terms!"
     "And what terms would those be, Colonel?" Klemper inquired.
     "That I go along to look for him."
     "Out of the question," the Cylon nearly sang out.  "You simply plan on
using this as a means of escape yourself."
     "Commander, there is nothing I'd like more than to get out of here, and
try to get back to Caprica.  But my duty lies here, with my men."
     "I don't believe you."
     "Believe what you want Commander.  There are two facts here: One, your
perfect record is suddenly out the window without my help, and two, you have
my word as an officer that I won't attempt to escape."
     Klemper was silent, considering Crane's words.
     "I have found in my dealings with humans that your 'word of honor' does
indeed mean something to you.  Perhaps some day you can help me to understand
it?"
     "Commander, the longer you wait, the more chance there is that the Kentra
will find Clary
first."  Klemper straightened visibly, and Crane could swear he noticed the
twin eye-scanners increase their tempo.  "Do we have a deal?"
     "All right, Colonel, we'll do it your way."  Klemper returned to his
command console, then added, "Coordinate your efforts with the one you call
'Cy.'  Dis-Missed!"  He made a reasonable attempt at a salute, then turned his
attention to the console.

************************************************