Baltar woke to the unfamiliar sense of someone in his bed with him, followed 
by the disconcerting realization that it wasn't even his bed he was in. He 
cracked his eyes open against the dim reddish light filtering in through the 
curtain over the window, feeling it stabbing into his throbbing head. Too 
much ambrosa, he thought. So stupid, what was I thinking? He turned away from 
the window with a half-coherent mumble and rolled onto Sidra's bony elbow. He 
groaned at this newest unexpected discomfort; Sidra grumbled and slapped 
feebly at him, pulled in her elbow and rolled onto her side. He considered 
the situation sleepily for a moment, lost his train of thought, and draped an 
arm over her, feeling vaguely smug.
   "It's morning," she said groggily.
   Shades with it, he thought, I'm sleeping. All he managed to get out 
was,"Mmmmhm  ..."
   "We have to  ... It's time we  ...." She gave up. After a moment, she sat up, 
and his arm slid down onto the bed. "Oooohh," she groaned, resting her head 
in her hands. "I need to get up."
   Sidra stood up, and started gathering up her clothes. She looked back to 
where Baltar was now sprawled across the entire bed. "Hey," she said, not 
managing to get much force into her voice. "Get up!"
   "Ummhmm  ....yeah  ..." he trailed off.
   If he snores, I'll kick him, she thought. And if I do, I'll probably fall 
on my butt. She was still a little giddy; the thought made her laugh. He 
looked up at that, and tried to push himself up. He winced and dropped back 
down. "Gimme a centon."
   After she was gone, he began to wake up a little more, and found that 
despite an appalling headache his thoughts were reasonably clear. The evening 
began to come back into focus, and he smirked to himself. That had been some 
surprise, he thought. He'd always thought Sidra hated him, especially after 
Evan's death. If he hadn't been drunk, he probably wouldn't have put himself 
in such a vulnerable situation with her. But it seemed  ...
   He sat up, blinking. It was probably power, he thought. He'd have power, 
soon, and she knew it; she was putting herself in a position to benefit. Made 
sense; everything else could be set aside for a chance to really get ahead in 
life.
   Not that she had any future as his lover, of course. He'd have to marry to 
the benefit of the province, but that could mean little. But he couldn't put 
the succession in doubt; especially not now. If he couldn't get on with his 
wife, he'd have to do the proper thing, and engage the services of a 
socialator. But Sidra and the others could be provided for. Indeed, he'd 
consider it an obligation.
   If this worked. He frowned, thinking about that. Last night, he'd been 
carried away by the elation of his success. But if Taklan was supporting him 
openly, there'd be trouble. Andros couldn't allow this to pass without some 
response. 

   "We can't just let Andros take the city back," he said to Menkari, halfway 
through his third cup of kaffe. He still sounded a little thick to himself. 
"Support is one thing, but it won't be worth anything if Andros sends his men 
in. We need to get some weapons in there."
   Menkari sipped at his kaffe, apparently suffering no ill effects of the 
night before. Had he drunk anything? Baltar wondered. He hadn't noticed what 
the Virgon had been doing; he'd been too occupied with Vanda and his own 
visions of the future. And then Sidra  ...
   "I agree, they need something more substantial than future promises," 
Menkari said. "But what can we send them? We have a few weapons, of course, 
but we need those here. Perhaps your desert friends  ..?"
   "Nooo  ....I don't think they'll agree to defend a city. And for how long? 
Andros won't let it go. Can Carden get us anything?"
    "Not anywhere near enough, I imagine. He doesn't deal in those kinds of 
quantities. Not for one customer, not all at once. Too dangerous to keep them 
on hand. Especially now."
   Baltar considered this a long moment. He finished his cup and poured more, 
feeling the kaffe clear his head. It was also improving the terrible taste in 
his mouth.
   "Carden can't get us what we need," he mused. "So  ...we need to find someone 
who can. Where is Carden getting his merchandise?"
   "He won't be happy if we go around him. That could be bad for us," Menkari 
said evenly.
   Baltar shrugged. "We've gone beyond him, Menkari. We no longer need him. 
Very soon, I think, he'd best worry about me. Can you find out his supplier?"
   Menkari's face was impassive. Finally, he said, "It'll take a lot of 
money. Can you get your hands on the cubits?"
   "How much are we talking about?"
   "We can probably afford the weapons. But we'll have to  .." he smiled 
tightly, "encourage some people in key positions to remember their loyalty to 
the true Count of Raamasa."
   Baltar felt a twinge of annoyance. "Bribes?"
   "It's the way things work. Whether you were taught that or not."
   Baltar sighed. "We weren't that naïve. I'll see what I can get together."
   Menkari sipped his kaffe. "Call them donations, if it makes you feel 
better."

   The Pirenna ship came in on a nadir approach to avoid the clutter of 
Scorpia's ecliptic. The alien's bland, immobile face was on the 
stationmaster's screen, relaying course and cargo information. The flight 
controller stared at his screen, his full attention not particularly needed 
during such normal procedures. The Pirenna ship continued on its course 
toward the Zahrin primary station.
   The flight controller was considering the uses of a comfortable sum of 
cubits that had lately come into his possession, a sum which, along with his 
politics, was more than enough to blind him to the small craft which detached 
itself from the cargo ship as it swung over the polar region and drifted 
groundwards. A few centars later, he'd be equally uninterested in its 
departure.

   The plains south of Taklan were cold, and barren, and the wind blew 
incessantly. Reddish dust swirled and turned the scant patches of grass a 
uniform dull color.  Baltar looked down at his boots, changing to the same 
shade as the grass and ground, then up at the descending sliver of copper, 
and pulled his coat closer around him against the chill.
   It's no good, he thought. I can't do this. How can I go through with this?
   On the long drive down to the deserted spot, he'd had more than enough 
time to think. He was the Count of Raamasa, he wouldn't admit the slightest 
doubt that he wouldn't regain what was his by right. He was succeeding in 
turning the people against Andros. Taklan was supporting him openly. And 
Andros wouldn't stand for that. He'd send the Watch in to take back the town. 
Taklan needed the weapons on the ship above him. And then there'd be 
fighting, between his own people, at his instigation. Was that the action of 
a peer of Scorpia, to get his own people killed?
  But it's too late, he thought. Andros will go into Taklan, whether they can 
defend themselves or not. If I lose the city, I'll lose my support  ...No, it's 
too late, I can't back out now.
   The craft was low enough now, settling into the red dust, for him to see 
the lettering on the side and recognize it as Pirenna, though he couldn't 
read it. He grimaced, and glanced at Menkari, then back. The Virgon was as 
impassive as ever. For the first time it occurred to Baltar to wonder about 
the other man's motives. The Pirenna were not allies of the Colonies. They 
were a neutral race, determinedly neutral. They would do business with 
anyone, and make no judgements concerning the particulars. Baltar had 
specified Colonial weapons, at Menkari's suggestion; if they fell into the 
wrong hands, they'd cause no suspicion, give Andros no advantage over him. If 
they were coming from the Pirenna, he thought, they were likely weapons 
scavenged from battlefields, from Colonial Warriors killed by the Cylons. He 
found the thought distasteful, but put it aside. Later, he thought. Later, 
there'd be time to do things properly, set things right.
   The first of the Pirenna had exited the ship, small beings with their 
strange, doll-like faces moving about efficiently, unloading crates from the 
hold. Two taller figures also emerged, cloaked against the cold, and it was 
only when they put back their hoods that Baltar realized he was not dealing 
with the Pirenna.

   Tano was buying, but no one seemed to be selling. He'd wandered around 
through the narrow streets and the warrens of alleys and plazas of the lower 
slopes all day, without finding any of his usual contacts, and he was getting 
nervous. He was feeling achy and his skin prickled, and he kept feeling like 
he was being watched, but that was probably just the paranoia setting in. He 
had to get his hands on more supplies, and fast.
   So now he was wandering around the docks, in an area he barely knew, 
hoping to find a familiar face before the chills set in. He was just feeling 
the first awful sensation of shaking in his arms when someone called his 
name. It was so soft he barely caught it, but when it registered he turned to 
see Brel, a small-time dealer he'd bought from occasionally before. It 
occurred to him, very briefly, that Brel looked nervous and was way out of 
his area, and that he'd heard the Watch had picked him up a secton before; 
but the thoughts were quickly outweighed by his need for the drugs and he 
followed the man back into the warehouse.

Baltar had greeted the reptilian-looking merchant, who named himself as Vanha 
Kriyet S'Kaiyah, with what he hoped looked like a sincere smile, and 
inspected the crates of lasers and power packs, and handed over a sizeable 
sum of cubits in exchange. After the Pirenna ship had gone, and the crates 
were loaded, and they were nearly a centar on their way back to Taklan, his 
thoughts were still whirling. 
   Narsians, he thought. Lord oh Lord, what has he gotten me into? Dealing 
with the Pirenna was bad enough, bringing outworlders, and aliens at that, 
into what was, after all, a purely Scorpiani matter. But Narsians? Allies of 
the Cylons? What he'd heard about them was only sketchy, that they had 
managed to retain the relics of their trading empire under Cylon rule, but 
there were more than rumors that their merchants were allowed to do business 
as a means of gathering intelligence for the Cylons. Certain governments who 
fancied themselves neutrals, like the Pirenna, maintained economic relations 
with them, but to have Narsian merchants here in the Colonies? If his people 
ever found out about this  ...
   He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. No one knew, no one could 
possibly know, he thought. It was a Pirenna ship that landed; the Pirenna 
would never disclose the details of even an illegal business deal. The 
Narsians certainly wouldn't talk. No one had been here to see, except himself 
and Menkari. And Menkari  .. Baltar glanced sidelong at him, trying not to be 
obvious.
   "What?" Menkari said sharply. Baltar jerked in his seat and stared at the 
other man, suddenly afraid. How had Menkari known what he was thinking? Or 
had he? Was he just so paranoid by now  ..Suspicion was beginning to outweigh 
his fear, and anger to outweigh both of them.
   "You never said we were dealing with Narsians," he said in a low, flat 
voice.
   "I don't recall your asking me," Menkari replied evenly. "You were only 
interested in getting weapons to Taklan, not where those weapons came from. 
What's the difference?"
   "What's the difference?" he exploded. "Dealing with Narsians? That's -"
   Menkari raised his own voice, cutting him off. "It's business. That's all 
it is. Get used to it."
   Baltar turned away and glared out the window. When I'm Count, he thought, 
I want Menkari off Scorpia. He's too dangerous. No, I want him dead. 
   And then a moment later, No. No, when I'm Count, I want someone like 
Menkari on my side. He'd be  ..so useful.
   He turned back, with a smile more sincere but less pleasant than he'd 
given the merchant. "You're right. It's business. Nothing more."

   Shen and his cousin were combing the back alleys, looking for Tano. 
   They had checked so many back rooms and empty buildings that Shen was 
certain they were going in circles, covering the same ground; he could swear 
he'd been in one particular deserted shoreside office at least three times 
today. He'd spoken to anyone who even looked vaguely familiar, never sure if 
the answers he was getting were truth, lies, or the product of drug-induced 
hallucination.
   "Tano?" the girl asked in response to his question. She had to concentrate 
hard on the answer. "Yeah, I think I saw him earlier. Down by the docks  .." She 
moved an arm vaguely. "He was at a warehouse, talking to Brel  .." She frowned, 
obviously having some trouble with the recollection. After a few more tries, 
Shen got useable directions from her.
   If Tano had finally found someone to buy from, he thought, he wouldn't 
have gotten far. The warehouse he was in was empty, but the dust on the floor 
was disturbed, so the place was used. He looked around, checking side rooms. 
No Tano. The place was deserted. 
   Probably the wrong warehouse, he thought. He squeezed back out through the 
door hanging by its single remaining hinge, and looked across to the next 
building. A few men transferring crates out of a transport glanced at him 
without interest. 
   That one's used, he won't be there, Shen thought. I'll check the one on 
the other side.

   The rest of the Akharate had been at him like a pack of chaqals, and 
Andros was still fuming. Unable to administer his province adequately, saar 
Devven had said. Fostering discontent among the populace, upsetting the 
balance of Scorpia's economy. Breeding ambition within the noble houses, saar 
Rhavan added. He could no longer trust his relatives, when he should be 
depending on their loyalty. Saar Kiros was vaporing about Raamasan rebels 
crossing into his province, and trying to enlist saar Rendel's support. Their 
provinces bordered Raamasa on the west, and they knew about the trouble in 
Sakara and Taklan. Perhaps, saar Zahrin had finally deigned to put in, some 
other of the Darian line should be installed at Raamasa, if Andros could not 
control the province. Andros bristled but could not retort as he wished. Saar 
Zahrin was not referring to any of Andros' sons; but to accuse him of 
supporting that upstart Baltar would be tantamount to acknowledging the 
legitimacy of the boy's claims before the entire Akharate. He had tried to 
keep the matter quiet, confined to the province; to even admit to the boy's 
existence might lose him more of his shaky support.
   He had come to a stop just inside the antechamber after the session had 
ended, trying to decide if he should check in at home, to see if there were 
any new developments. No, he decided, he would give the appearance of 
desperation. If Jaspar had anything to report, he'd find out soon enough. It 
couldn't be long now.
   He started to move toward the doors, and realized someone had moved up 
beside him.
   "The situation on your southwestern border concerns  ..us both  ..greatly, 
Count Andros," Rethan saar Rendel said softly, aware of the possibility of 
their peers overhearing. "I wonder if I might  ..discuss the matter with you 
privately, in greater depth."

   Captain Jaspar smiled to himself as he signed the order for Brel's 
release. The dealer had played his part perfectly. Jaspar wondered if he 
should contact the Count now, or after he had the terrorists in custody. The 
latter would be far more satisfying, he had to admit; but with the trouble in 
the border towns, the Count might want the matter to wait - surveillance 
placed on the group until the manpower could be spared. It wouldn't do to 
have Baltar escape them - again, he couldn't help adding, then felt the 
embarrassment, the feeling that the present situation was all due to the 
Watch's failure seven years ago. Well, that was his predecessor's mistake, he 
thought, not his own. This time, success would be total.

   Success was within reach, Baltar thought. He was taking a moment for 
himself, ostensibly to consider their next move, but more lost in visions of 
the future he knew he deserved. The square of light from the window had moved 
up the wall as the sun had set, dimmed, and disappeared, but he hadn't turned 
the light on yet. Soon, soon he'd be in his rightful place, up at the manor 
house and holding his mother's title  ..
   He should probably leave Raamasa, though, remove to one of the towns that 
supported him. It would be safer, and he'd be better able to coordinate his 
next move. But he didn't really want to leave Raamasa. It would feel like he 
was running again. He had survived for nearly three yahrens practically under 
Andros' nose, and he had been safe enough  ...
   There was a lot of noise in the outer room now, he realized. Had Shen 
finally dragged Tano home, then? The others usually didn't get upset about it 
though. Maybe the ruckus was over Sidra's cooking. He chuckled. He was caring 
less about that lately  ....
   Narain stuck his head in the room. "You better get out here," he said 
tersely before Baltar could register his annoyance at the interruption. 
   Frowning, Baltar rolled off the bed and followed into the other room. 
"What is it?" he asked, suddenly concerned. The tones of the others' voices, 
their expressions  ...
   "We've lost Taklan," Menkari said shortly.
   It didn't sink in the first time. "What are you saying?"
   "Andros took back the city."
   Baltar frowned, trying to reconcile the news with his dreams of victory. 
"But the weapons  ..?" He leaned back against the table, his head spinning. The 
weapons didn't matter, they obviously hadn't been enough. He heard the talk 
in the room in brief phrases, filtering through his agitation. "How could 
they take the city so fast  ..?" "If we've lost the border  .." "What if they find 
out about us here  ..?" We have to find someplace to  .." "What do we do now?"
   And then Baltar started to chuckle.
   The voices trailed off as one by one, Sidra, Auriga, Narain, the others, 
turned in his direction. His reaction was so incongruous, they wondered if he 
had snapped form the stress.
   "Don't you see?" he said, his voice strained. He looked up, a feverish 
excitement in his eyes, his grin fierce. "Don't you see, if all of Andros' 
men are in Taklan  ...who's here in Raamasa?"
   His triumphant tone was slowly being reflected on the faces of his 
followers as they realized what he was saying.
   "This is it." He straightened up, a sense of ultimate certainty coursing 
through him. "We'll finish this. Get everyone we can find who supports us. 
We're taking the manor tonight, and by morning  ..I'll be Count."
   At that moment there was a pounding on the door. Baltar looked to Narain 
in confusion, but he was looking at Menkari. Auriga made a tentative move 
toward the door, then stopped. Narain nodded, reaching for the laser on the 
table near him. Kelse also picked up a weapon. Baltar hesitated a moment 
longer, then he also nodded to Auriga and stepped out of sight into the hall.
   He heard the door open, a surprised word from Auriga he didn't catch, and 
then a voice he didn't expect. Terrel? "Where's Count Baltar?" The tone was 
desperate.
   He stepped back into the room. It was Terrel, but why he had left the 
manor and risked coming here  ..
   Terrel spoke before Baltar could question his presence, his words rushed. 
"Count Baltar, you have to leave, right now. The Watch is looking for you."
   Again, Baltar felt the dislocation as events shifted faster than his 
plans. The setback was temporary, it had to be. "Are you sure, Terrel? 
Narain, get our gear together, we'll move to another safe house. Menkari -"
   "You don't understand," Terrel interrupted, his tone frantic. "There are 
no safe houses! There's no time! They know everything! They're coming for you 
right now!"