Kobol Remembered  
by Rae

	The shock that Adama felt at the stark, unreal sight
that had been before him was almost more than the
overly weary, emotionally battered commander could
bear.  The utter dismay and mindless disbelief that
gripped his over wrought mind due to everything that
had happened to them in the short time of a few
centars.  Concerns, questions cluttered his mind in
such a cataclysmic whirl that Adama feared that he
would not be able to focus on the situation at hand
with the calm and sense of purpose that he needed. And
so much depended on that calm, clear-headed analysis. 
The training that he had worked so hard to attain over
the many yahrens.  The experience of  nearly an entire
lifetime in the military and in it's service to
protect their people.  
	But what clouded his mind now was not concern for his
people.  Not concern for the fleet.  Not concern for
the great battlestar that had been entrusted to his
care so many yahrens ago.  No, the turmoil of his
personal emotions were now clouding his mind,
impairing his judgement, fouling his mood.  There were
needs to be addressed.  Immediate needs for their
continued survival on this barren wasteland of a
planet.  And he had to pull himself together.  Put his
emotions in check and begin to concentrate...focus on
the problems at hand.  On the immediate needs.   
	Shelter.  They had to find shelter for if they didn't
find that, then there would be no hope for any of them
to survive this ordeal that they faced. The heat of
the desert would take its toll on them quickly if they
did not find someplace to provide them with shelter
from the sun's rays. Adama could feel the mild sting
of the sunburn that he had already acquired since his
arrival.  Their skin was unuse to the intense rays of
the sun because of they were confined to living in the
ships with artificial light as their only source of
light.  This crumbling building that they had taken
refuge in for the present time was not a proper
shelter.  No one that Adama wanted.  
	His eyes darted around the room as he waited for the
others to join him here, noting the crumbing stones of
the walls, the pieces of roof that were missing in
some places.  Sunlight shone in, illuminating the
room, but there were still areas that still were
darkened to his glance.  The coolness that they had
experienced when they had first entered this place was
now slowly dissipating as the sun moved further
overhead signifying hopefully, that mid-cycle was upon
them and that soon the cool of the evening was only
centars away.  But Adama also felt twinges of guilt at
the wish for evening to come, because every passing
centar made their situation even more grim.   
	His thoughts turned to those above the planet.  Their
people.  The fleet.  The Galactica.  Where was
everyone?  Adama knew that Tigh would search for them
if the situation allowed it.  What had happened here? 
The thoughts intruded back into his mind and he
quickly closed the door on those concerns.  He didn't
care about his own continued survival.  He had lived
his life and it had been a good long life.  There were
things that he would have done differently, or not at
all.  There were things that he wished he could do
over and do them differently.  But everyone has those
regrets in their life.  No, Adama was not worried
about his own life, but the lives of his children. 
All his children.  Not just Apollo and Athena, but
Starbuck and Sheba.  And he knew that if he was not
careful, his mind would start to focus on the others
that had been like sons and daughters to him.  And his
grandson.  Tigh would keep Boxey safe.  Adama had no
doubt concerning that. 
	Adama took a deep breath and put his thoughts in
order.  A new shelter was needed.  One that seemed
more stable than this one that they occupied now. 
Water was another concern.  Without it in this heat
they would quickly dehydrate and start to lose their
strength.  And Apollo in his present condition would
be the first to suffer from the lack of water. Adama
felt overwhelming worry at the thought of his son, and
he vainly tried to push it away.  He had to stay
focused.  Food was another pressing issue. Adama tired
to pull together the information of what he had seen
since he had arrived on this planet.  The seeming lack
of water, no vegetation and as far as Adama had seen,
no wildlife or other sources of food.  Just sand and
barrenness as far as they eye could see.  But there
had to be a source of water and food here for the
civilization that existed here to survive.  But where
was it?  Or possibly, could the planet have changed so
dramatically climatically and ecologically due to some
unknown factors?  Dramatically enough to change a
planet that could have been overran with abundant lush
vegetation and turn it into a desert world?  Maybe the
food and water that was here and that supported the
populous of this planet died yahrens ago creating the
world they were on now.  Maybe there was never any
food or water here.  Maybe the population of this
planet did not eat the same food as they did.  Maybe
it was just all gone.  Time and ecological evolution.
Adama's shoulders sagged slightly with the weightiness
of his feelings of hopelessness. 
	The heat of the late morning sun was beginning to
show in force what was in store for them in not so
many centars.  Adama felt the beads of perspiration
roll down his back and several trickle down the side
of a lined face that showed the experience of dealing
with tense situations like they faced now.  Only now
in the face of the desolateness of the landscape
before them and now the seeming hopelessness of their
future survival, Adama felt extremely unsure of
himself.  Not confident that he could guide them, lead
them, be strong for them in the face of odds that to
the normally confident man seemed almost
insurmountable.  
	Suddenly his mind shifted and his thoughts of centons
ago invaded his thinking again.  Where was the fleet? 
Where were the people that over four centars ago, were
sleeping peacefully in their shelters here in this
very spot?  Adama saw in his minds eye the area that
now looked almost too pristine with the sand smooth
and undisturbed, giving no clue as to what was once
here or where all of it had gone.  Not a trace.  Adama
somewhere in the back of his mind remembered an old
saying, "The desert tells no secrets, but keeps all
knowledge locked and hidden in it's vast sea of
nothingness." 
	Adama had to agree with that estimate of this desert.
 That's what it was -- a sea of nothingness.  But in
reality, when Adama had been younger, the desert had
fascinated him.  As a young boy on a school
expedition, he had been fascinated with the desert
regions of Scorpia and Tauria.  Aries great desert was
not as vast, but deadlier that the deserts that
covered either one of the two desert worlds.  It was
more than a wasteland, he had found out quite quickly.
 The sudden sandstorms that could blind an expedition
and leave its members to die from it's effects.  Or
make a person so totally lost and confused that they
died in the desert from heat and thirst.  Even with
the most experience guide.  One trip there as a youth
had shown him that it was not a place to take lightly.
	But on Scorpia and Tauria, it had been a completely
different story. On those two worlds, Adama had seen
the desert tell its stories and reveal its treasures
from the past.  Carefully imparting the answers to
great
mysteries that had stumped mankind for ages.  But this
desert, unlike those deserts of the colonies, seemed
deadlier and more threatening.  Adama wondered if they
dug deep enough would find a river of blood running
benieth the surface, instead of a river of crystal
clear water.  And not just the blood of his son would
run there, but the blood of the members of his crew,
whose fate was unknown.  
	Adama tried not to think of Cassie and Boomer, who
had been here with the others.  Or of the hundreds of 
possible scenarios as to the fate of the fleet.  More
than likely nothing had happened to the Galactica or
her fleet.  And there was the very real possibly that
everyone from the landing party and  from the base
camp had returned to the Galactica.  Adama seriously
doubted that scenario, but it was the most optimistic
compared to the others that he had rolling around in
his mind.  Another hopeful possiblity was that
atmospheric interference was stopping the Galactica
from scanning the planet for them or delaying a rescue
attempt.  Tigh would send out a search party for them.
 Adama was confident of that, but what were the
chances that they would still be alive when their
rescue came?  Adama chided himself for his chaotic
thoughts for he knew that he was grasping wildly for
the optimistic side rather than facing the truth of
the situation. 
	Adama turned his attention to the doorway as he heard
the soft sound of whispered voices.  A few centons
later, Starbuck passed through the crumbling doorway,
Apollo carefully cradled in his arms, with Sheba and
Athena close behind.  Adama stood there mutely
watching as Starbuck walked over to an area that had
some shade, then laid Apollo down there ever so
carefully.  Sheba and Athena stood close by, their
fear and worry etched on their faces as they hovered
close by.  Adama tried to push the image of Apollo's
pale face, of the injuries that desperately needed
medical treatment or the possibility that his son
would die from his mind as he watched the scene before
him.  Adama was torn between the desire to be near his
son and the needs of the situation at hand.  He knew
that if he walked over to Apollo, that he would never
leave his son's side.  After a forlorn, worried glance
at his son's pale, almost lifeless looking  face,
Adama turned away unable to deal with the sight.  
	First things came first.  The heat of the day would
be intense, so they needed to find shelter.  A shelter
better than this one.  One glance told Adama that the
structure was very unstable considering the amount of
stones that were lying on the structure floor, and the
aging commander wondered how long it would before any
more of the structure collapsed around them or
possibly on them.  Food and water were his next
concern and he knew that concern was going to have to
be dealt with sooner than later.  Adama tried forcing
his mind to work, to analyze their needs and formulate
solutions, but the creeping fingers of worry, along
with the fear of his son's fate seeped into his
thoughts, almost crippling the vastly experienced
commander.  Adama almost cried out from the pain he
was enduring, not physical but the emotional agony. 
But he also knew that if he cried, if he showed any
physical weakness in front of Starbuck, Cassiopeia or
Sheba, that their barely controlled fear would surface
making them more of a hindrance than a help.  And he
was going to need their help.  But Adama found his own
thoughts straying dangerously -- this time the images
that flashed were of another time, another place.  
	If he let himself, Adama could see clearly the day
that Apollo was born.  The tiny, fragile form of his
son in his arms, the overwhelming love that he had
felt at that centon for that tiny baby.  A head full
of dark, dark hair that looked almost out of place on
the tiny infant.  The worry and fear that Adama had
lived with for those sectars after Apollo's premature
birth.  The promises he made in the night as he sat by
the side of the critical care neonatal unit that held
his only surviving child, the promises to the Gods,
the testing of his faith in everything he had been
taught to believe in, the strain that tested the
strength of the marriage of Adama and Ila, along with
their love for each other.
	More and more poignant images flashed by in the blink
of an eye. Adama felt his heart grow heavy as he
remembered each event in his son's life with clarity
and detail.  The fear the Apollo had exhibited when he
was just 2 yahrens old, after Adama had returned from
a lengthy mission only to find that his pride and joy
was absolutely terrified of him.  The first day of
primary school, where Adama had the good fortune of
being home on leave. He remembered the frightened eyes
of his son as he had looked at the classroom that
contained a number of other children Apollo's age. 
Some were in tears, some were fighting, some were
playing together.  All Apollo saw was the confusion,
chaos and the fact that his mother was not anywhere in
sight as he tightly grasped his father's hand and hid
behind his father's legs..  
	Adama's thought leapt ahead 10 yahrens, to the
frightened, nervous 15 yahren old, forced to attend a
military social for sons and daughters of Colonial
Service officers.  Apollo had begged, pleaded with his
father to not make him go.  Adama had wanted to say,
'You don't have to go.' but Adama also knew better. 
There was no order that compelled the officers to
force their 15 to 17 yahren old offspring to attend
this event, but it was a long standing tradition that
Adama knew Apollo had been expected to attend.   
	Adama felt a slight smile tug at the corners of his
mouth as he remembered the conversation  he had with
the disturbed father of another teenage boy who had
also attended that night, but who had disappeared from
the social about two centars into the evening.. Adama
had a short time later found out that Apollo was also
missing from the party, as were 3 other boys and 2
girls.  They had all felt the same way about the whole
evening so they had left to enjoy the evening away
from people that each of the teens has described as
'stuffy' or 'over-bearing.'.  Adama was not surprised
to find the boy that Apollo had befriended at school,
a young man by the name of Starbuck, was right there
at his son's side that night also.  The blond haired
boy had engineered Apollo's escape from what Apollo
had termed was a 'fate worse than death.'   
	The brief respite that Adama had felt from the
problems at hand vanished like a puff of smoke in the
gentle breeze.  Adama hesitantly walked over to where
Starbuck and Sheba sat uncharacteristically silent
with Apollo's injured, still form, with Athena sitting
silently off to the side on some rocks.  The weight of
the situation came crashing down and Adama had to set
his priorities now.  Keep focused.  A better shelter
was needed and it was needed now before the mid-cycle
sun took it's toll on them.  The only options were the
ruins of the city that was here once upon a time, none
of which seemed in any better condition that this one
that they were already in.  Adama realized quickly
that he wished for other options.  A cave.  A portable
shelter.  Anything but the buildings that were here
and their ghosts.  
	Ghosts.  Ghosts do not shoot people and every bit of
Adama's religious training scoffed at the implications
that ghosts existed.  But there had always been a part
of Adama, a small part, that felt that there were
things that people and religion tried to deny existed
because it was something that they feared.  Something
that they could not control.  The thought of something
that could exist beyond their plane of understanding. 
Unexplainable.  So maybe, just maybe Adama believed in
the feasible possibility of the existence of ghosts. 
No!  What they saw at the temple, what shot Apollo was
definitely alive, but where were they?  Where were
they living and how?  Scans had shown that there was
no life on this planet. There was the possibility that
these beings lived under the planet's surface, but
nothing showed up on those scans either.  The only
other possibilities were that something within the
planet's structure shielded these beings from their
scans under the planet's surface or that these beings
were impervious to their scans.  
	No matter what the reason, Adama knew that they were
not in a strong defensive position if these beings
decided to appear again.  They had the element of
surprise on their side.  But right now as Adama felt a
distinct dryness in his mouth, water was the biggest
of their problems.  Then food, and then suitable
shelter.  With the shelter situation, they could then
deal with the defense problem.  Adama knew he had to
find water here somewhere, just as they would find
food, and proper shelter.  He had to have some
optimism.  The beings that inhabited this city had to
have a source of water somewhere and it just had to
still exist.  But where?  He had not seen a well or
anything that could possibly be a source of water for
a city this size.  
	The Commander knew what needed to be done next.  He
had to go out there and find that source.  Turn the
city and it's ruins upside down if necessary.  Four
lives that he considered more important than his own
depended on his ability in finding food and water for
their continued survival on this wasteland.  Adama
closed his eyes in a silent curse concerning this
planet.  He wished they had never found it.  And most
importantly, that they had never landed there.  But he
knew that the time past could not be taken back and
adjusted to their own desires.  Adama glanced over to
where Starbuck was sitting much too quietly, his arm
resting on his bent knee as his head was hung
forlornly against his arm, his other hand rested on
Apollo's chest, over his heart.  Adama felt the pain
that he knew Starbuck was feeling.  The fear that
Apollo's heart would stop beating and his life would
slip away.  Adama glanced to Sheba, her dark eyes
seemed larger than before.  Her hand firmly clasped
Apollo's limp one as she sat there on the other side. 
Adama knew from vast experience in dealing with Cain
that his only child was a woman of action.  A woman
who confronted the situation and charged forward, a
plan of action carefully mapped out. But now Adama
could see her feelings of uselessness that were
clearly displayed on her features and it was a feeling
that was foreign to her.  
	Out of the blue as Adama gazed at the woman that
Apollo loved, he remembered an occasion when Apollo
had done something that had irritated Sheba a great
deal.  While visiting with his son in his quarters,
Apollo had been saying to his father that he knew most
of the time what Sheba's emotions or feelings were
because they were clearly written on her face.  Just
then Sheba had entered the room, irritation still
apparent.  When she caught sight of Apollo, from the
look she gave him Adama knew his son had done
something pretty serious to upset her.  Apollo had
half jokingly whispered to his father that from the
look on her face now, he knew he was still in trouble.
 On second glance, Apollo had looked back at his
father and muttered, 'A whole lot of trouble.  Can you
call a drill, any drill right at this micron?  I'll
even take a long deep space probe."  Adama had laughed
as he commented that Apollo was on his own to which
Apollo had muttered something that sounded like
"Athena might end up with her childhood wish of being
an only child."
	That sobering thought brought Adama back to the
present, pushing the intrusive thoughts away.  The
thoughts of happiness or laughter in the past.  The
present was what was needed to be concentrated on. 
Adama looked over at Athena, the person that concerned
him probably the most.  She had been
uncharacteristically quiet as they had trudged back to
the base camp.  Her eyes were wide and unusually
bright.  Her bearing was tense and stiff as she had
silently followed in her father's wake.  And that
worried Adama.  Apollo and Athena had been very close
as children.   Getting into mischief, tormenting their
younger brother terribly.  They were each other's
partner in crime.  Where there had been one, you knew
the other had not been too far behind.  
	Adama turned away from the expression on Athena's
face.  He had to turn away from the vision of her
sitting there, apart from the others, her back pressed
against corner the stones made in her own self imposed
hell.  The father remembered the last time he had seen
that expression on his only daughter's features - at
the memorial service for Zac and Ila.  A service that
was held in actuality for all the victims of the cylon
treachery.  But Apollo, with Serina at his side, and
Athena, standing stock straight and still on the other
side of her brother, had both had that tortured
expression on their faces.  Adama knew that Athena's
biggest fear as she entered the military had been that
she would end up being the only child left to her
parents.  That her brothers would die fighting the war
and Athena would be left alone.  
Adama knew that his daughter would shirk off any
comfort that he tried to give her.  That her fragile
facade that she showed to them all would crack like
fine crystal and shatter into a million pieces.  All
her life, Athena had always tried to show that she
could handle tough situations.  That she could be
counted on to keep a level head and her emotions in
check like her brothers.  Her dream was to be a pilot
like her brothers.  To rise up the ranks of command
and someday command her own battlestar.  Become a part
of the elite ranks of female battlestar commanders. 
Maybe she had said one time, it would have been the
Galactica.  
As Adama walked towards the entrance in silence, he
grappled with the father side of him that wanted
desperately to turn and comfort Athena.  He stopped at
the doorway and looked back at his daughter.  He
wanted to tell her it was all right to cry right now. 
That she could give in to the pain she was feeling --
release it, not store it up inside of her and also
tell Starbuck and Sheba to do the same.  But he
couldn't.  He needed them.  Emotionally crippled, yes,
as they held it all in.  But he desperately needed
them and their skills.  He wanted to break down
himself and couldn't.  Not even in private.  Adama
felt a throbbing in his temples that was growing with
every passing centon.  The pressures were taking their
toll, building inside of him and he knew that he would
have to quit stalling.  He had to get out there and
explore the planet's surface to find water, food along
with a shelter more conducive to their needs.  Adama
swiftly turned away from the faces and expressions
that would be with him the rest of his days.  With a
determination born anew, the silver haired commander
walked through the crumbling doorway of the ruins, his
mission in his mind -- bright and clear.
Without so much as a word of farewell to Athena, Sheba
or Starbuck, he walked out into the bright sunlight
with the climbing heat of afternoon, intent on his
mission to save them from this planet.  
God help him.  

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

	Starbuck sat quietly at the side of the man who was
the one person who was closest to Starbuck – the only
person he had ever had for any length of time in his
life.  The person who knew Starbuck better than anyone
else.  Better than even the woman that Starbuck was in
love with -- Cassiopeia.  The man lying there so still
and silent, the one that Starbuck loved as though he
was his own brother, his own flesh and blood. 
Starbuck stared intently at the pale face made even
paler by the dark hair, wishing with all his soul that
Apollo would give some sign of life.  The only thing
that consoled Starbuck at that micron was the
continued rise and fall of Apollo’s chest.  But the
cold fingers of fear still gripped Starbuck’s heart as
he watched that action – motion that could end
suddenly.  Stop without warning – without a sound. 
Apollo could die but with him would go a large part of
the brash man who sat intently at his side.  
	Starbuck could not stop the morbid thoughts from
coming over his mind.  Nor could he stop the memories
of the past.  His past carefully intertwined with
Apollo’s from the time they were both 15 yahrens old. 
There were times of reflection where Starbuck felt
that his life just began at that point.  The point
that Apollo and his family came into Starbuck’s young
impressionable life and gave him the friendship, love
and acceptance that he had searched for all of his
existence.  Starbuck felt himself being drawn into
that dangerous world of long ago memories.  A place
where you could lose yourself completely into if you
let yourself.  But the memories were all Starbuck had
to hold on to right now.  The memories and the hope
that sustained him.  Unlike the dream.  
	Starbuck closed his eyes, trying to block out the
memories of that dream.  The dream of horror and
bloodshed.  He tried pushing them aside and
concentrating on the good memories.  The happy ones. 
Starbuck’s first day at another new school on the
planet of Caprica.  But this school was different. 
Walking across the school’s threshold into the open
building would change his life forever.  He would not
leave there until he graduated – 2nd in his class,
right behind Apollo.
	Starbuck had felt nervous the first day there. 
Showing off for the other kid’s benefit.  By the early
afternoon, he had achieved his goal of being one of
the most popular kids there.  He had many people who
wanted to be his friend, to be seen with him because
he was so popular, then he walked into his 4th period
class for that day.  A science course taught by one of
the most boring instructors in the school.  Starbuck
had been surrounded by other kids clamoring for his
attention when he had walked into that room.  Noisy
and rowdy, Starbuck had been the center of attention
from both girls and boys.  They all wanted to be his
friend – to be a part of his adventures.  Starbuck had
walked into that class with all intents to do what he
had done before at all his other schools – just slide
by.  But something – no, someone caught his eye.
	Dylan.  A kid that Starbuck knew very well.  Orphaned
in the same cylon attack that Starbuck was and had
been in several of the same foster homes as Starbuck. 
He was nothing but trouble from the word go.  Starbuck
had wondered what he was doing in this school, but
more than that he wondered what scheme Dylan was
concocting in his small evil mind now.  And just who
was he planning to have take the fall for the outcome
of another one of his schemes?  Starbuck’s eyes had
wandered to the boy that was sitting next to Dylan.  A
tall, thin dark-haired boy, about 15 yahrens.  No
smile on his face, only a look of seriousness that
intrigued Starbuck from the start.  
	Starbuck had no idea who the other boy was but he
fully intended to find out for that air of seriousness
intrigued the orphaned youth, besides the fact that
Dylan seemed to hover over the boy.  Dylan had not
been at all pleased when Starbuck brashly sat down at
the table with Dylan and Apollo and you could have
sworn that a cylon bomb had gone off when Starbuck had
been assigned to team up with the quiet Apollo to work
on a project for class.  Dylan had been irate where
Starbuck felt smug about thwarting Dylan in whatever
his plans were.  Apollo seemed a little relieved when
the assignments were passed out, finding out that he
was not going to be assigned to work with Dylan, but
he had also seemed a bit wary of the gregarious new
kid.  But after about a centar, Starbuck had Apollo
shyly smiling and starting to talk to him and Starbuck
really liked what he saw in his new friend.
	There was an air of total innocence to Apollo back
then, but there was something else there that Starbuck
was unsure of.  An edge to Apollo that Starbuck
finally discovered a short time later in their
friendship was a defense against some of the teenage
hurt that Apollo had felt then.  Starbuck knew that
Apollo had a younger sister and brother, besides the
fact that Apollo talked about his mother with great
love and pride, but Starbuck never heard anything
about Apollo’s father.  He had just assumed from his
friend’s demeanor that he was dead and that his friend
just did not want to talk about him.   Starbuck had
even been to Apollo’s home several times and never was
there any mention made of Apollo’s father.  
	Then one day, he had shown up at Apollo’s home to
pick up his friend for an outing and had been almost
shocked when the door was opened by a man whose face
was very familiar to Starbuck.  One he had seen on the
vid many times.  Commander Adama of the batttlestar
Galactica, one of the finest ships in the colonial
fleet and who just happened to also be a member of the
Council of Twelve,  You could have knocked Starbuck
over with a feather.  Now he knew why his friend had
never mentioned his father, but it also explained to
Starbuck questions that were still unanswered about
his friend.  
	With his father being the Commander of the Galactica,
Apollo had built a wall around himself against those
who wanted his friendship for their own personal gain.
 To use Apollo’s family background to promote their
own selves to others.  Starbuck now understood why his
friend was the way he was.  Starbuck also knew now why
people whispered about him  concerning his friendship
with Apollo behind his back.  Starbuck never cared
about what people whispered about him.  He was use to
it after all this time, but strangely Starbuck cared a
great deal about what they whispered about Apollo. 
>From that point on, Starbuck had always protected his
friend from those who wanted to use Apollo for their
own gain, but also found himself defending himself and
his own friendship with Apollo.
	More than a few people over the yahrens had claimed
that Starbuck was not truly Apollo’s friend, but using
him to better his own self.  Or to promote his own
self worth.  Many had spoken about how could a
nameless orphan from the Umbra raids think that he was
worthy to be included with one of the oldest blueblood
families of Caprica.  Starbuck had found himself at
one point in his life after graduation from the
academy where Starbuck was even questioning his own
motives for his friendship with Apollo.  He was tired
to the constant scrutiny that seemed to go on where
ever they went, even when they were assigned as
wingmates on the Galactica.  Starbuck knew that he
cared about the person that Apollo was and the person
he presently is.  The two of them had been through
some situations in their lives that no one should have
came out of unscathed, let alone alive, but they had. 
Together.  It seemed that when they were apart that
they got into more trouble than if they were together.
 And the bond they shared was something that neither
of them questioned but just learned over the yahrens
to accept.  
	Sheba’s voice filtered through Starbuck’s thoughts as
he remembered a conversation he had with her just a
sectar ago.  They had been talking about luck and
friendship.  Sheba had looked at Starbuck with tears
in her eyes and thanked him for being there for
Apollo.  Starbuck had felt slightly embarrassed that
this woman who he considered to be a close friend was
thanking him for being there for the man that they
both cared about, each in a different way.  But Sheba
told him, ‘At least I know that if you are with
Apollo, then he has a better chance of coming back to
me and to his family in one piece than if you were not
with him.  And honestly, I am willing to bet that
Cassie feels the same way about Apollo being with you.
 It’s like our little security blanket in a very
insecure universe.’
	Starbuck looked at the still form of his best friend
lying in front of him and felt his eyes start to fill
with tears as guilt started to come over him like a
funeral shroud.  He didn’t do a very good job at
protecting his friend.  Apollo had told Starbuck of
the dream that he had been having, without getting
into some specific details, but Starbuck knew enough. 
Starbuck had been having dreams of his own.  Of sand,
of blood and of death.  Of severe emotional pain. 
Like what he was feeling right now.  And of a
beautiful woman standing alone in the distance. 
Starbuck wondered what his dreams meant and why he was
having it, but he was coming to find out that everyone
seemed to be having these disturbing dreams.  Apollo. 
Himself.  Cassie…
	Cassie.  Starbuck felt pain pull at his heart as he
thought of the beautiful blond haired woman that he
loved.  Where was she?  Was she safe?  Was she hurt? 
Was she back on the Galactica worried about him?  Then
a morbid thought crossed Starbuck’s mind, one that he
did not want to even consider but knew that he had no
choice.  Was she dead?  Starbuck stifled a sob that
threatened to break past his lips.  He _had_ to get
control of himself.  He was doing no one any good in
the state he was in.  No.  Cassie was not dead.  Not
her.  God and the Lords could not be that cruel to
Starbuck.  He had been through enough in his lifetime.
 Losing his parents, being an orphan shuttled from
foster home to foster home.  He had learned at a very
young age not to get too attached to people because
they came and went out of a person’s life.  
	But with Cassie, Starbuck was beginning to entertain
the thought that for a change he could live an almost
‘normal’ life.  Love one woman who would be able to
handle his ways.  His drinking, his gambling and even
his appreciation for beautiful women.  Even though he
found that he did not have any interest in making any
of those women his latest conquest, he still found
that he could appreciate a beautiful woman and still
be in love with Cassie.  And Cassie accepted this
quirk of his.  She had laughingly told him once that
she would be more concerned if he did not look at
other women.  She knew that Starbuck loved her and she
had no worries that he would wander.  As long as he
just looked, she knew that he was still her Starbuck. 

	Starbuck thoughts drifted to Cassie and her dream. 
Her dream.  Starbuck found himself wondering if her
dream was similar to his or Apollo’s at all.  It had
to have been terrifying to her because he remembered
how frightened she acted.  How she cried and held on
to him tightly but she kept her own counsel about the
details of it.  She told him nothing about her dream,
except that it was more like a nightmare.  Starbuck
tried to get her to tell him about it, but she
refused.  Her face pale, her blue eyes wide, she just
shook her head at Starbuck’s questions and walked
away.  Starbuck wanted to press her further, but
decided against it when she started acting more like
her normal self after they reached the planet. 
	But then there was Apollo.  He had became more
withdrawn on this planet.  It seemed to Starbuck that
his friend was almost…frightened of what he was seeing
on the planet.  His green eyes were wide, his face
pale, his movements jerky at times, and he seemed
always on guard.  Like he was expecting something to
happen.  When the Galactica had come across Kobol,
Cassie had remained on the Galactica the whole time so
she did not have the same reaction to this place as
Apollo did.  Her reaction was one of semi wonder when
she arrived at the planet while Apollo’s reaction was
one of intense dread.  But then Starbuck saw that
reaction on more than just Apollo’s face.  Athena,
Brie, Dietra – the female warriors.  The ones who
remembered Kobol and remembered the tragedy that
happened there.  Those who remembered Serina.  
	Starbuck could see the attractive newswoman as if it
were just yesterday.  Apollo had always been a sucker
for kids, and Serina’s young son was in need of some
attention after losing his pet that he adored.  Serina
had reached out to the grieving Apollo, showing him
that there were others hurting just as much as he was,
that he was not alone in his pain.  Starbuck had not
really been that surprised when Apollo and Serina
started to be seen in each other’s company more and
more, but for some reason, Starbuck had not liked or
trusted Serina, and he tried for his friend’s sake. 
Boomer had told him that it was because Starbuck
probably felt that she was taking Apollo away from
them.  That things between the three of them would
never be the same again and that what Starbuck was
feeling was all perfectly normal.
	Well, it was not normal to Starbuck’s way of
thinking.  Starbuck felt that Serina was manipulating
his friend for some strange reason and he felt that
his suspicions were confirmed when Serina pushed for
Apollo to marry her while Starbuck was missing,
presumed dead.  Athena had quietly told him how Serina
had talked Apollo in to sealing with her right then
while her brother was trying to handle the fact that
Starbuck was gone.  Athena had felt that Serina had
used the situation to her advantage, but now that the
woman was gone, no one could really ask her about
things that had happened.  If everything was really as
it seemed to them.  Boomer liked Serina but was not
really sure of the relationship between her and
Apollo.  Cassie too had liked Serina, but for some
reason was concerned about Apollo, a man that she
barely knew at that point in their lives.  Starbuck
felt vindicated by Athena’s suspicions for he knew
that his former lover’s observations were pretty
accurate.  And Starbuck watched Athena put on a good
front for her brother who she loved with all her
heart.  For Apollo’s sake, they all kept their
thoughts and suspicions to themselves.
	Starbuck was right there with Athena in his thoughts
regarding Serina, but his thoughts, his suspicions
were nothing that he could prove when it came right
down to it.  Then came Kobol.  Starbuck had been
captured by the Cylons and returned to the fleet by
Baltar for his own end.  He had seen the reaction on
Serina’s face when Starbuck appeared, which she
quickly hid behind a mask of happiness.  Starbuck
wondered what it would have been like to be at
constant odds with Serina, would his friendship with
Apollo survived, but a cylon wiped that out that
possible situation.  Starbuck would not even bring any
of this up to Apollo, who had gone into a deep
depression with Serina’s death.  His friend had truly
loved her.  Apollo had taken on the responsibility of
Serina’s son, which he did not have to do, but he did
anyway.  Starbuck had wondered what would become of
Apollo because of the state of mind his friend
remained in for such a long time after Serina’s death.
	Then came Sheba.  Starbuck had to admit he himself
had been intrigued by the headstrong young woman.  He
thought more than once about trying for Sheba himself,
feeling that she would be a challenge for Starbuck. 
One that he had not had before.  Women had always
fallen at Starbuck’s feet.  That was a given.  No
matter how hard they tried to resist, in the end they
came to him like sheep to a shepherd.  But Sheba was a
unique woman.  She had returned retort for retort,
barb for barb with him the whole way.  Starbuck to his
mild surprise had found himself coming to care for
her, but in a way that was different than he had ever
considered a woman before.  He had come to care for
Sheba as a close friend, but also as though she was
his sister.  Starbuck had also come to realize that
_he_ was not the one for Sheba.  That in actuality
Apollo was the one for Sheba, and she in turn was the
one for him.  If only the two of them could have seen
it at that time.  But Apollo was in his own world of
misery with everyone he had lost in such a short time,
including his wife.  Sheba was in her own world of
misery for she missed the man who had been the most
important man in her life – her father.  
	Starbuck had just stood back and watched their
relationship develop like a spectator watching a play.
 At times, he had to laugh at the two of them, but
just as often there were times that Starbuck was
surprised that they didn’t kill each other.  But
something happened between the two of them in that
raider that day when Starbuck and Apollo were getting
ready for the suicide mission to disable Baltar’s
baseship.  Starbuck was not sure what happened between
the two of them, or what was said, but their
relationship changed.  Apollo never talked about it
and neither did Sheba.  Starbuck knew that Cassie knew
the whole story, but she never told him a word. 
Starbuck had his own ideas of what transpired and his
only confirmation was how their relationship changed
when he and Apollo returned from the basestar.  And
the plateau that it had reached now.  
	Their bond was one that Starbuck marveled at and at
times, envied.  Starubkc knew that if he had the
courage to take one look at Sheba’s face, that it
would tell Starbuck another story of misery that at
this point he knew could not handle.  He would break
which was something that he could ill afford to do at
that micron.  Apollo needed him.  One thing Starbuck
had never done in the whole length of their friendship
was let his best friend down when he needed him. 
Images kept flashing across Starbuck’s mind – images
of his friend during times long gone.  
	Then another image flashed across his mind.  One that
was a rich red, crossing into Starbuck’s memories of
Apollo.  Red and flowing.  Blood.  Starbuck shut his
eyes trying to rid himself of the memory of his dream.
 To stop the flow of red from clouding and covering
his images of happy times on Caprica.  It had worked
before, but now his resolve was failing.  Starbuck
started feeling increasingly warm, like he had been
standing out in the sun., but they were not in the
sun.  The warmth was steadily growing, becoming more
disconcerting by the centon.  Starbuck felt himself
slipping as the bright red blood started seeping over
into his memories, tingeing them with blood of an
innocent…
	Suddenly in the blink of an eye, Starbuck was back. 
Back in the desert of his dream, or rather his
nightmare.  He spun around quickly and saw nothing but
the barren emptiness that was the desert.  Nothing and
no one in sight.  Starbuck stood and listened. 
Nothing but silence.  No birds, no animals, no
nothing.  He was alone – totally alone.  Starbuck
stood there for a centon, trying to figure out what to
do, part of him fighting and pushing at the desolation
that was threatening to steal over him, trying to keep
it away from his mind.  Starbuck could and would not
let the morbid thoughts cripple him, for if he did
then he might as well give up right now and let death
overtake him.  Starbuck knew if would be a long,
painful death.  From the heat, from starvation and
from thirst.  It would be torturous.  
	This was not the way he had planned on dying.  Not
here.  Not now.  Starbuck felt the heat of the desert
sun beating down on his unprotected head.  A slight
headache was starting to develop from the pressure he
felt building in his head and Starbuck knew that it
was from the stress that he was feeling.  The
pressure.  He was *not* going to die here.  This was
nothing more than a dream, no matter how *real* it
seemed or felt to him.  A DREAM!!!  Nothing more. 
Nothing less.  A person could not die from their
dreams, could they?  Starbuck shook his head at the
thought of dying because of a dream.  And this was all
part of the dream, even though he could feel the heat,
even though he could feel the beads of sweat run down
his back.  
	But as Starbuck looked around, as he felt the heat of
the sun and the warmth of the desert breeze on his
face, ruffling his hair he began to have serious
doubts about if this really *was* a dream.  He had
never in his life had a dream that was this real.  He
could see and feel everything around him.  It was like
he was really, really here.  Was this a dream? 
Starbuck’s doubts were clouding his mind as he
grappled with reality and fantasy.  Was this really
and truly a dream?  How could he tell the difference? 
Maybe Apollo being injured was the dream and *this*
was reality.  He was stranded on a desert world with
no hope of escape.  Starbuck felt his shoulders sag at
the thought that he was marooned on a planet like
this.  Not at all a planet of his fickle fantasies. 
Not a lush tropic paradise with scads of beautiful,
barely clad women at his beck and call.  No not at
all.  
	Starbuck came to a decision so he started walking to
the top of one of the sand dunes to his right, hoping
that there was something out there that would signify
that there were other humans here.  Or that there was
life, other than just himself.  As he reached the top
of the dune a few centons later, he felt any shred of
hope he had dissipate in the desert sun as he looked
out at what laid ahead of him.  Nothing.  As far as
the eye could see.  Absolutely nothing besides sand,
sand and more sand.  Starbuck rubbed his eyes in
disbelief, hoping beyond hope that was he was seeing
was nothing more than a trick of his imagination, but
when he opened his eyes again, he felt the tears of
frustration and hopelessness fill his tired eyes.  
	Starbuck felt himself fall to his knees in the sand
as he fell forward and rested his head on his folded
arms, limp as a ragdoll but with still enough control
as not to fall in the sand face first.  He couldn’t
take much more.  No, nothing more at all.  Were they
all gone?  Cassie?  Apollo?  Sheba?  Athena?  Boomer? 
The Commander?  Was everything that he knew and loved
gone without even the knowledge of *how* he came to be
marooned on this planet?  Was everything that happened
from discovering the planet that looked like Kobol, to
the attack that left Apollo dying nothing more than
his demented imagination?  What was real?  Was there
even a reality?  
	Confusion filled Starbuck’s mind until he felt as
though he was going mad.  Is this was insanity was
like?  This confusion of reality and fantasy to the
point that you did not know nothing anymore?  You
could not tell the difference?  No, he was not going
to let madness come over him and take over his mind. 
Apollo had told him one time that he was a fighter, a
person who never gave up no matter how tough the going
got.  Starbuck fought for his sanity with everything
that was in him.  The dreams.  He remembered the
dreams.  Apollo’s.  Cassie’s.  His own.  How many
others on the Galactica, or even in the fleet were
having the dreams that Starbuck remembered?  No.  He
was not going mad.  This had to be a dream.
	"Reality is only a concept, Starbuck.  It is what you
make it."
	The voice cut through Starbuck’s confused thoughts
like a laser as he stopped and lifted his head from
his arms.  His blue eyes were wide as he tried to
place the voice that he heard.  It was one that was as
familiar to him as his own name, but the owner of that
voice was dead.  Very dead. 
	"Zac?"  Starbuck whispered, almost breathlessly.  

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

	Deep within the world that the humans called ‘Kobol
II’ was a civilization that no race who happened upon
this world could see, nor would they be able to fully
accept the fact that such a world, such an advanced
civilization existed.  A race of beings that had been
protected from the eyes and understanding of others
for many centuries.  It existed there deep within the
darkness was such a world, under miles of dirt and
rock.  The darkness shielded this civilization from
the rays of the sun, thus not permitting light to
shine and illuminate all that was here which was a
world of secrecy and power – a power that could
destroy an entire race in the blink of an eye, or
could create one in another blink.  
	Keenan stood quietly in the darkness that shadowed
the room, watching in characteristic silence and
obscurity the actions going on around her.  Carefully,
making sure that her emotions were in check.  That
nothing about her appearance or demeanor would give
away the conflict of emotions that were churning in
her below the assumed exterior.  Her anger, her
disdain, her hatred of the race that were called
‘human’ was a personal one.  A personal private
emotion.  Not one for display.  Not one for debate
amongst the others.  Not one for Elyas to pick over
and bring forth to the other members of the
Collective.  
	She had her own reasons for her feelings towards the
human race and she defended her right to have those
feelings in regard to them..  She knew that the others
would agree with her concerning her privacy of those
very personal feelings for that was one of the most
sacred rules of the collective.  The right of the
individual.  The right to be the way that they were
meant to be -  to be an individual, each different
from the others.  But there was also another line that
Keenan had to respect and not cross.  That was the one
about a being in her position being impartial when it
came to passing judgement against a race that is
currently participating in the rights of judgement.  
	And she took her position very seriously, no matter
what Elyas thought of her motives.  She knew that he
was against her promotion to her current position
because he felt that she could not be impartial, nor
did she have the emotional development to be fair in
her judgements of other inferior races.  Elyas felt
that she was too harsh and demanded perfection from
those that were being tested by her group.  Keenan had
argued to the Collective that she was fair, and that
she could maintain her impartiality tempering it with
the needed understanding and compassion which was an
essential element for a person in the position that
she was being selected for.  Thankfully the members of
the Collective had believed her sincerity, but had
warned her that they would be watching.  
	But the humans were a race that pushed the limits of
her compassion and understanding.  Tested the limits
of her impartiality.  They had been tested before and
been found to be barbaric and primitive.  Self
centered.  Only interested in their own self.  A race
that enslaves others, including members of their own
society, to do their bidding, treating them like they
were ‘owned’ or their personal property.  A race that
comes across a world and strips it of its natural
resources, kills the creatures and the plant life that
is abundant there, strips the planet until it is raw
and tortured, in pain from their assault.  That would
not happen here.
.  No, it would not happen here on her world for it
was all hidden away from those that would come to
their planet, either to claim it for their own race as
a part of their ‘empire,’  kingdom,’  "temple state"
or whatever they cared to call it where they
originated from.  Or if they came to plunder it’s
riches, it’s wealth of natural resources.  To kill the
animals that Keenan had nurtured and cared for, to cut
down the trees, to leave impurities in the air that
polluted the lungs of the animals and the ‘lungs’ of
the lush green vegetation that grew freely around
them.  
	In truth, Keenan hated all who came here.  All who
wanted to ruin the beauty and tranquility of her home.
 Her world.  Not just the humans.  They were only one
small insignificant race of beings who came here.  No
there were others.  Some more violent and hate filled
than the humans, but still they were here for the same
things that the humans were.  Keenan loved her world,
even though she was not native to this planet, but at
least her race did not plunder and destroy this
planet.  No, the code and order of their civilization
did not permit it.  They lived here in perfect harmony
with the natural order that was already here.  Keenan
had come into existence on this world, had lived her
life here, so really, unlike her parents she knew no
other place.  She did not know her true home – her
planet of origin.  All she knew was that it was a
great distance away and that it would take hundreds of
what these humans called ‘yahrens’ to reach that
world.  
	Keenan had wondered when she was quite young why her
parents and the others had left a world that was as
perfect and peaceful as she had understood theirs was.
 No war, no violence, no death.  At least not a death
as the humans as well as many other races understood
death.  Their race "evolved" to a higher plain, went
on with their existence, but not in the form and in
the way that they did at the present time.  Keenan had
listened intently to her mother and father when they
talked of their home.  The beauty of the planet was an
absolute splendor, according to her father.  But
Keenan had found out over time that her father was
prone to slight exaggerations and flights of fancy. 
Keenan’s mother was more reality based, but when
questioned agreed wholeheartedly with her mate.  
	Great cities sprung up under the ground, not on top
of it.  They never wanted to spoil the gifts that
nature had blessed them with.  So the Guardians as
they were called, lived peacefully under the planet’s
surface.  Quiet, protected from the probing of
scanning equipment from the races that passed them by.
 Keenan had wondered why they had left for the stars. 
Why they had left such a calm and fulfilling
existence.  Her mother when questioned had smiled a
tolerant but loving smile at her only offspring.  She
had said that the answer to that question was simple. 
They were given a great challenge by the great powers
that be in the universe.  That they were blessed with
special gifts and abilities that were needed in this
infinite space to keep the peace, to right wrongs, to
watch over those who seeked to create evil and hate,
breeding war and conflict.  
	So, Keenan’s mother had said quietly, they had left
their worlds to come and carefully assist others to
achieving their goal.  They had come, many of the
collective, to be chosen to go out into space and help
where needed.  To judge and punish those who did wrong
and created conflict.  And so they traveled out into
space in all directions.  They were the Guardians of
this infinite place called space and all that it
encompassed.  After the evolution of her parents to
their higher plain, Keenan had taken over their
responsibilities of judging and administering
punishment or rewards.  Recently, she had been granted
a higher position within the order and she took her
responsibilities very seriously.  
	Her thoughts drifted to the humans that were here on
her world, and the test that they were having
administered.  How she strongly disliked the human
race.  She stood more rigidly as she remembered what
Elyas had called her feelings for the humans.  Hate. 
Keenan had looked at him in scorn when he had said
that to her.  That she hated the humans.  She felt
that she was incapable of that emotion.  She felt that
the humans were barbarians and needed to be given
judgement and their sentence.  Elyas disagreed with
her.  He wanted her to give the humans a second
chance.  To remove the emotions and pre-judgmental
feelings that she harbored and see the humans in a
different light.  
	And Keenan refused to let go of what Elyas termed as
her ‘preconceived’ convictions of the human race.  But
in as Keenan felt her feelings stemmed from her true
beliefs about the detestable race, she also knew that
she could not let on to any member of her group that
she felt the way that she did, for she was their
leader.  She had to set an example and a tone for the
testing.  Even though she felt in her soul that the
humans would fail, she none the less had to go along
with the edict of the collective and give these humans
a chance to vindicate themselves.  
	She turned as she heard the softest of sounds. 
Nothing more than a whisper really.  There in the
shadows stood Elyas, his human face unreadable as he
looked upon the human image of Keenan that she
projected.  She even disliked the human form that she
had to adapt to for this test whereas Elyas seemed
like he enjoyed this form – too much.  How dare he do
what he had done in the past several days.  He
actually had the audacity to *touch* a human female. 
To stoke her hair.  To stand close to her that she
became aware of his presence with her.  
	To Keenan’s way of thinking, he had endangered the
test.  Possibly caused the outcome to be altered from
its original course.  But Elyas seemed almost
fascinated by the race that did nothing but cause
havoc and destruction wherever they went.  Their
hatred and prejudice against anything or any creature
that was different than they were was inescapably
evident as they traveled from one system to another. 
At least the test would soon be over.  The trial that
was required was ready to begin and evidence would be
presented that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt
that they should not proceed any further with the
testing.  Keenan was prepared with her findings.  Of
that she was confident.
	Elyas had other ideas as he watched Keenan through
carefully guarded eyes.  He made sure that there was
nothing in his expression or his demeanor that would
give her cause to suspect his thoughts.  And his
thoughts troubled him a great deal.  Keenan and her
motives were at the forefront of those troubling
thoughts and her actions towards the race known as
human were what gave her thoughts, her true thoughts
about the race away.  
	This test that she devised, to test the humans one
more time Elyas definitely thought was beyond the
point of cruelty.  To cause havoc with their emotions
in this way.  To cause such distress to them and then
to have the audacity to judge their people and their
reactions to the situation under such stress was
unfair.  It was not the way to judge a race of beings
fairly, which is what the Guardians stood for. 
Fairness.  Justice.  And Keenan was twisting it to
suit her desired outcome to this test.  
	He knew that she was angry with him for what she saw
as his interference and Elyas honestly did not care. 
The humans were granted another chance to prove
themselves.  It was decided that they had not evolved
enough to be properly judged the first time.  Maybe
his contacting the Enlightened Ones, the higher beings
was the best thing he could have done for these
humans.  Maybe now they stood a chance.  Elyas would
argue their case to the Collective Tribunal and
hopefully the Enlightened Ones would be able to help
the humans survive this test.  But how they would do
it was something that Elyas wondered about.  
	He knew that he had no right to question how they
would help the humans.  He had never seen these beings
with his own eyes, never sensed their presence within
his realm.  The only way he knew to contact them was
thorough deep mediation.  Deep thought. 
Concentration.  He never had heard them speak to him,
at least not in the ways that he knew to communicate
with other beings, other races and cultures. No, Elyas
had only the feeling deep in his ‘soul’ that convinced
him that his plea was heard by the powerful race and
would be acted upon.  
	Elyas turned and moved towards the Great hall where
the Collective Tribunal was set to meet to hear the
report regarding the humans and their progress so far
in the test.  He knew that most of the Elders that sat
on the tribunal were persons with open minds, but they
were also centuries old.  Maybe some of them
remembered the last time that the humans were tested
and felt as Keenan did about them.  The only thing
that Elyas was sure about was that Keenan had to be
made to see the error of her ways, the error in her
judgment regarding the humans.  
	Elyas only hoped that he could do so before the
Collective were swayed by Keenan and the others in
their group that supported her thinking.  For he could
not honestly see the vast universe devoid of the very
interesting race known as human.  But if Keenan had
her way, that’s exactly what was going to happen.  The
total demise of the human race.  

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

	Joscelyne felt her heart thumping wildly in her chest
as the two of them continued running away from the
structure.  No one was following them, but neither of
them wanted to take that chance.  What had just
happened to them was something that was told in fairy
tales to children.  It was not something that happened
to two intelligent adults.  She knew that Iaian was
right behind her as they ran.  Joscelyne felt the pull
of the sand at her legs as she tried to go farther
away from the nightmare they just experienced, but her
muscles were protesting the abuse they were taking.
	Finally she could go no further and collapsed on a
stone ruin that was outside another crumbling
structure.  She fought to catch her breath as she laid
herself down on the stone with her stomach resting on
the rough surface.  The roughness of the stone didn’t
bother her as much as the feel of the clothes she was
still wearing.  Blood stained, not red anymore, but
turning the rusty brown of dried blood.  Joscelyne
knew that the terror that they had just escaped from
was not a dream or a nightmare, but something that
happened in reality.  The here and now.  
	Joscelyne turned as she watched Iaian, his hair
almost plastered to his head with sweat, fell heavily
against the other end of the stone, panting from the
exertion, his face still pale from the experience.  As
she laid there looking at him, a part of her felt the
urge to reach out and wipe the beads of perspiration
from his face.  She felt something tug at her heart as
she looked at the man who had been at her side, there
for her for the past 4 yahrens.  The man that told her
just a short time ago that he was in love with her. 
Mikhos best friend.  
	Joscelyne thought of her husband and remembered the
friendship, the bond that Iaian and Mikhos shared.  It
was one that Joscelyne had admired and sometimes
envied.  Now as she looked at the man beside her, she
felt emotions that she was not sure that she wanted to
feel and experience again.  Emotions that she had
buried for who knew how long.  telling herself that
this man that she cared a great deal about was just a
very dear friend.  But she knew better as she laid
there catching her breath.  She knew better.  
	Joscelyne thought that she could be happy, hiding
with the memory of what she shared with Mikhos.  Yes,
it was very special – a very special love and a very
special time, but he was gone.  Knowing Mikhos as she
did, she knew in her heart that he would be upset with
her for putting her own life on hold, living with only
memories and sorrow to keep her company.  He would
want her to live, urge her to reach out and grasp life
again with both hands, then run with it.  He would
want her to be happy.  To love again and experience
all the wonder, and even heartache that came with that
experience.  
	She could almost see Mikhos face in her mind’s eye,
laughing joyously, his handsome face alight with life
and vibrancy.  She could feel his arms around her, but
she still felt the chill from the temple on her skin. 
She missed someone holding her and taking the chill
away.  Loving her as if she was the most important
person in their life.  But all that was shattered in
an instant.  On Kobol.  Iaian was there.  He saved
her, but there was no hope for Mikhos.  Iaian knew
that when he grabbed her and forced her into that
shuttle.  Mikhos was dead and she would have been too
if not for Iaian.  
	But now, instead of feelings of anger with Iaian for
saving her from certain death, she was feeling
something else.  Was it something that she wanted to
even feel?  Was she feeling something that she should
not because of how she loved her husband?  This man
was her husband’s friend.  His best friend.  Iaian had
been there for her since Mikhos death.  And he was in
love with her.  So why was she pushing him away? 
Mikhos would have wanted her to savor life.  To live
it to its fullest, not sit and morn him.  Not waste
her life on his death.  
	Iaian.  Was that her imagination or was her heart
beating just a bit faster at the silent mention of his
name?  She had felt fear for him as they ran from
certain death.  She felt something else as she looked
at him with a different perspective as they rested
against the rough stone to regain their strength. 
Iaian looked over at her with an unreadable expression
on his pasty white, perspiration soaked face.  
	"Are you all right?"  Iaian asked breathlessly, his
eyes wide as he took in the pale face of Joscelyne,
her long hair damp with sweat.  He looked at her blood
soaked clothing and shuttered at the memories of what
they just experienced.  It was a nightmare that had
came to life.  Became reality.  Who was that woman
back there?  Why were they the chosen?  What in the
name of all that was holy was going on?
	Iaian slowly got up from the rock and stood
unsteadily on his feet.  Joscelyne also slowly started
to rise, but seemed a bit unsure of her footing, so
she slowly sand down to sit on the stone.  Wordlessly,
Iaian turned his back to Joscelyne, unable to bear the
sight of her covered in blood.  Slowly he walked away
from her, then stopped looking out at the view of the
crumbling ancient city that once was here.  His mind
felt like someone had taken and put him through some
sort of vortex where you come out with your senses
scrambled.  He felt confusion, frustration, paranoia,
fear and some other jumbled emotions all at the same
time.  He wished that he could get some semblance of
control over himself, but as hard as he tried, he
could not fully regain control.  
	He had been through hell and he was not afraid to
admit that to anyone.  He could have lost Joscelyne in
the midst of it all.  Laying on a stone altar to be
sacrificed, but for what?  What kind of people
inhabited this city and why do the hieroglyphics that
he found speak so much of death?  Were these people
worshipers of a god who demanded human sacrifice?  And
just where does the woman fit in to all of this?  
	Then there was something else that bothered him. 
Joscelyne herself.  She seemed so calm, so cool.  And
then there was the looks that she had been giving him
since they escaped from that death trap.  Looks that
Iaian was afraid to interpret for he was so afraid of
being wrong.  Of getting hurt.  Maybe he was reading
too much into those looks.  But he could have sworn
that Joscelyne looked at him with caring.  With
something akin to love, possibly.  Was he imagining it
or was she finally coming awake and seeing what was
right in front of her all this time?
	Iaian slowly turned and looked at Josce as she looked
herself over, her hands touching and exploring the
bloody garment that covered her.  
	"Josce,"  Iaian’s soft voice broke the silence that
hung between them.  "Are you all right?"
	Joscelyne looked up at him, her dark eyes seemed even
darker to him for some reason.  "I’m fine," she
replied.  "How about you?"
	"Nothing broken, nothing bleeding."  Iaian said
mildly, reverting back to a phrase that Mikhos use to
utter when something would happen to him.  Iaian
regretted the words as soon as they were out of his
mouth, but to his surprise, Joscelyne did not react as
he thought she would to them.  Instead, she just
smiled indulgently at him.  A smile that made his
heart skip more than one beat.  He stuttered and
stammered as he uttered the next words.  "Are you all
right?"
	"Nothing broken, nothing bleeding."  She replied in
turn.  Iaian didn’t know what to think of the change
of attitude for Joscelyne.  For the past 4 yahrens,
the woman had been locked in a world of her own,
complete with memories of Mikhos along with
overwhelming grief and depression.  Now it was like a
light had just suddenly came on and there was a whole
different attitude.  One that Iaian was not sure what
to make of.  He found himself wondering how long this
change would last.  For that matter, he even wondered
what was the cause for the change in her – was it this
planet?  Or was it something or some *one* on this
nightmarish world?  Whatever was happening, Iaian was
not quite sure what to make of it, let alone if he
even wanted to consider it.
	He looked at her for a another centon, still
struggling with his conflicting thoughts, then turned
away from her and walked over to look out at the
expanse of sand that seemed to stretch on forever.  He
was growing to hate this world, this place that he had
thought initially could be so interesting.  The
wonders that were here had fascinated him as well as
disturbed him by their similarity to a world that they
had left behind so long ago.  A place where tragedy
had happened.  Death and destruction.  He had been
fascinated by Kobol too, but that had turned quickly
to hatred for the world where his best friend died and
discoveries were destroyed at the cylons hands.  A
repeat of the colonies.  
	And this woman that was with him, this woman that he
had loved from afar for so long.  This change that she
was experiencing, this change in attitude and demeanor
from what he had been experiencing since Kobol was
amazing.  What had happened to her in that burial
chamber, on that altar?  Iaian turned and looked at
Joscelyne, taking in her disheveled appearance along
with her blood soaked garments.  She was still
beautiful and his heart beat just a little faster as
he looked at her sitting there on the stone.  She
turned to look at him and his heart felt like it had
suddenly stopped beating, his breath caught in his
throat.  Her eyes, her beautiful blue-gray eyes.  No
longer did they look dead and lifeless.  There was a
sparkle to them that he had not seen for too many
yahrens.  What in the name of all that was holy was
happening here?  What had happened to her?
	Iaian knew that he had to concentrate on what was
happening here on this planet if he was to understand
what was happening to the woman that he loved.  That
the answers were out there somewhere and he had to
find them before it was too late for both of them, not
to mention for their friends and comrades within the
fleet.  A chill went down Iaian’s back as he looked
around the barren landscape, his thoughts centering on
what he had seen back their in that chamber.  The
sights, the smells, the experience.  His thoughts
centered on the woman  -- that beautiful but almost
foreboding presence of the woman that he had seen back
there in that burial chamber.  The one who spoke to
him of being one of the selected.  Why was he of all
people one of these ‘selected?’  Why?  He was nothing
more than a digger of artifacts.  And for that matter,
what *was* the selected?  Who were they?  Was there
more than just he and possibly Joscelyne?  
	Iaian had to assume that Joscelyne was also one of
the selected for the simple fact that she was here and
what she experienced back there in that place.  But
just what *had* they experienced?  Was it reality or
was it in fact a dream of some sort?  A dream or
illusion for the lack of a better word.  Iaian felt
like his thoughts were tumbling around him like a wall
collapsing unto itself, stones piling on top of each
other, the pile growing to greater proportions,
jumbled and a mess.  There was just so much that Iaian
did not understand, that he could not grasp
intelligently.  He wondered if some of the answers he
seeked would ever be fully explained, fully answered
in any sense of a logical manner.  
	Logical.  Now that was the key word here.  Was
anything here really logical?  At least logical to
Iaian’s way of thinking.  He had no logical
explanation about the woman that he saw.  No logical
explanation about the ruins that he was exploring. 
About why he went into that burial chamber alone, with
not a single member of his team knowing where he was
or what he was doing.  The first rule that Iaian had
learned was that a good explorer never when anywhere
alone.  He always took along someone else and informed
his team of his whereabouts.  Why had he not done
that?  And just how did Joscelyne end up on that altar
there in the middle of that decaying tomb?  Dressed in
the garments that she was?  Drenched in blood?
	Iaian felt that chill go down his back again,
stronger than before.  Hades, he could not even
explain how this planet existed.  He had no logical
explanation as to how everything here was the same, no
not just the same, but _IDENTICAL- to Kobol.  There
was just no way to explain it logically.  Maybe that
was where he was making his mistake.  Maybe he was
trying to think logically when he should be thinking
IL-logically.  Iaian ran a hand though his hair and
down around his neck, gently massaging the skin there,
feeling none of the tightness that he felt there go
away.  None of this made any sense and the illogical
route had not real appeal to it for him.  He prided
himself of his logical approach to everything that he
had ever done in his life.  To think illogically would
mean that he would have to bring into his thinking
things that he had always discounted as being myths,
stories for children.  
	Iaian turned and looked back at Joscelyne who was
quietly sitting on the rock, watching him with
concerned eyes.  He had never wanted to be the cause
of any worry for her for she had gone through enough
pain in her life.  He wanted to protect her, shelter
her from anything that would cause her pain for the
simple reason that he was in love with her. 
Hopelessly.  Iaian still felt a pang of guilt every
time he thought of his feelings for this woman. 
Mikhos was his friend, his best friend in all the
colonies.  This woman was Mikhos’ wife, now his widow.
 But Iaian also knew in the back of his mind that his
friend would understand his feelings for Joscelyne and
for some reason that he could not explain, Iaian felt
that his friend would approve of them being together. 
The two people that Mikhos loved most.  And judging
from what he was seeing of Joscelyne’s new attitude,
her new outlook if you wanted to call it that, maybe
his patience was beginning to pay off.  Maybe
Joscelyne was beginning to reciprocate his feelings
which would suit Iaian just fine.
	Joscelyne’s words sliced through Iaian’s thoughts
like a finely sharpened knife as he finally noticed
her staring at him.  
	"Iaian, what just happened to us back there?"
	Iaian shook his head, still trying to understand
everything himself.  
	"I honestly don’t know how to even begin to explain
anything that has happened here since we arrived, let
alone what just happened to us back there in that
burial chamber."  Iaian threw his hands in the air
hopelessly, helplessly as he stood there, then began
to slowly pace.  
	How did you get there?"  Joscelyne asked, wishing
that she could walk over and place her arms about the
agitated man, but she felt that he might reject her
overtures of comfort, so she decided to just sit there
and patiently listen to him.  
	"I went exploring…"  Iaian began, sheepishly.
	"By yourself?" Joscelyne asked, surprised.  He knew
the first rule of exploring a newly discovered site. 
Never ever go anywhere without a partner and always
inform your main base.  "But you told the adjutant
where you were heading didn’t you?"
	"Ah…no."  Iaian didn’t even look at her face for he
knew just what her expression was at that micron.  He
deserved the thoughts that she had about his actions
for they had been very stupid now that he looked back
on everything that happened.  He knew better, but he
had not even intended to go exploring any of the
ruins.  In actuality, he had been trying to escape his
feelings for the woman sitting in front of him, but he
could not admit that to her.  
	"Iaian,"  was all Joscelyne said softly.  All she
could think about at that micron with his revelation
was what would she have done without him?  How could
she have faced life without Iaian?  Joscelyne felt
that she had just gone through an eye opening
experience back there in that tomb, on that altar. 
She should have died.  She experienced the final cut
of death, but in fact she did not die.  The knife that
was held high above her body by her executioner never
pierced her body as it plunged down.  The result was
that Joscelyne came out of that experience with her
eyes open wide and saw things before her that she had
never seen before.  She realized just how badly she
had acted since Mikhos death.  Her beloved would have
been so angry with her, so hurt that she would dwell
on his death like she had for the past four yahrens. 
It was senseless.  Now with what she and Iaian had
just experienced. she was coming to realize just
recently how much she depended on Iaian to be there
for her and just how lost she would be without him.  
	And…something else she was coming to realize.  How
her feeling had changed for him.  How she was now
seeing him with different eyes – eyes that had not be
open like this before.  Was she in love with her late
husband’s best friend?  Was she really letting herself
feel that emotion all over again?  An emotion that she
swore had died with Mikhos untimely death?  Or was it
something about this planet?  What this place causing
the emotions to surface that she felt for Iaian?
	She was not sure about anything right then and there,
except one simple fact -- that her world would have
stopped if she had lost Iaian to this place. 
Especially if it was on the planet where Mikhos had
perished so long ago.  The same feelings that she had
experienced then would surface all over again and
Joscelyne was unsure if she could handle them.  Two
men on the same world, but not at the same time.  A
world that they had left behind yahrens ago.  Just
what _was_ happening here?
	With her innate curiosity rising to an almost fevered
pitch, Joscelyne looked around the almost desolate
area again, a cold chill creeping up her spine. 
Everything that had happened to her, the dreams of her
death, the encounter back in the tomb --  it seemed so
REAL.  Like it was actually happening to her.  But she
was still alive.  Unscathed.  Covered with something
that resembled blood, but she was not totally sure
that it was really blood, human or animal.  All she
knew was that everything she experienced registered in
her mind as actually happening.  
	Iaian stole glances at the woman sitting on the
yellowish colored stone as he paced back and forth. 
His mind a mess of confused thoughts.  Thoughts of
Joscelyne, thoughts of the happenings back in that
burial chamber.  Thoughts of his own emotions and what
he had experienced back there.  Of the cold that he
felt.  Of the woman and the emptiness of her eyes.  
    	"I felt like I was being watched by someone." 
Iaian began tentatively.  "The next thing I knew some
strange woman was standing there, just silently
watching me.  Not moving, not saying a sound, just
watching for some reason."
	Iaian shifted nervously from one foot to the other,
then slowly started to walk nervously back and forth
in the open area as Joscelyne sat there on the
crumbling yellow stone observing him, noting the jerky
agitated movements and the stress that was carried in
his voice.  
	"She appeared out of no where, Jos,.  No where!  Out
of thin air.  One micron she wasn’t there, the next
she was."  He stopped pacing and stood there looking
at her plaintively, his eyes showing his mixture of
emotions that were tinged with fear and dismay.  She
knew how upset he was and scared by the fact that he
called her ‘Jos,’ a nickname that she had not let
anyone use since her husband’s death.  Now that Iaian
had used it, she realized how much she missed him
calling her that.   "It was so damn eerie."  He
finished softly, breathlessly.  
	Joscelyne let the silence hang between them for
several long microns, then she ventured to asked, "Are
you sure she was real?  Are you sure that she was even
human?"
	Iaian looked up at her, his hurt that she doubted him
was apparent, but only for an instant.  He quickly hit
that hurt from her probing gaze as he tried to think
of the possible options she was eluding to.  "Are you
saying that she was a ghost?  A spirit?  An
apparition?"  
	Joscelyne’s gaze never wavered.  "I’m saying that
it’s a strong possibility, Iaian.  One that you have
to consider."
	Iaian stared at her for a centon, then shook his head
as he started pacing again back and forth over the
stone and the sand.  
	"No."  he said strongly.  "I do not believe in ghost,
spirits, or things that go bump in the night.  Those
are things for bedtime stories or campfire tales to
tell to children."  
	"Then how do you explain the beliefs of many of the
different cultures of the colonies?"  Joscelyne said
carefully.  She did not want to start an argument with
Iaian, but she also needed for him to explore the
possibilities and not close his mind to any idea, no
matter how outrageous to him.  "The beliefs in the
supernatural, the spiritual, the unexplainable?  How
do you explain the beliefs of the Keltoi on Caprica in
regards to witchcraft?  Their rituals for burying
their dead?  The Borillian Nomen believe strongly in
their ‘code’ but they also have a strong belief in
their gods and the spirituality of their healers. 
They give offerings to their many gods for many things
from strength, to good health, to honor.  They even
pray for their sick and dying, even though they
strongly believe that only the strong will survive and
that the sick are weak."
	"And the Itanka tribe on Libra.  You studied them for
your doctorate thesis, Iaian.  Their belief in the
ritual burning of the bodies of their dead on sacred
ground so that their spirits, their immortal souls can
be released from the sinful and unclean forms that
they were forced to live their life in as a mortal. 
There is so much documentation in the believing of
spirits, gods and the hereafter.  Our fear of evil
spirits, demons, poltergeists.  In elves, trolls,
fairies and the Keltoi’s ‘little people’ who hide
great riches and bring good luck to those who are
fortunate enough to catch one."
	Iaian stood quietly, his back to Joscelyne so that
she could not see his expression, nor that she could
see the tenseness of his stance, the ridged set of his
shoulders.  But as she sat there quietly, Joscelyne
knew from experience and from the stories that her
late husband had told her about his complex friend
that Iaian was fighting a battle with his intellectual
educated side and the side of him that followed the
teachings of the Turani.  Joscelyne knew that the
beliefs of the Turani were a double edge sword.  On
one hand they did not believe in reincarnation, but on
the other they teach that the spirit of the soul can
come to those still living in many forms, some good,
some evil.  
	"Iaian, our own Lords of Kobol who we worship, build
temples to, sing the praises of and pray to every day
in out daily lives are spirits."  Joscelyne rose and
walked over to stand behind Iaian, tentatively,
putting out her hand to touch him lightly but had
second thoughts about that, pulling her hand back
before she could reach him.  Then after a centon of
hesitation, she walked around Iaian to stand in front
of him, stepping forward so that she was within a
handsbreath of him.  Iaian looked at her
questioningly, then averted his eyes from her, but did
not move away.  
	"There is no evidence, real or otherwise Joscelyne,
to support any belief in ghost, apparitions, or
spirits."  Iaian spoke, his voice had not quite lost
it’s edge, but still held the note of arguementiveness
to it.  Joscelyne stood there for a micron then turned
and walked away from him.  
	"How do you explain the documented haunting of Aru
castle on the planet of Leo?"   Joscelyne turned
around and looked back at the stoic face of Iaian, his
expression unchanging, his stance still rigid. 
"Mikhos was part of that team.  He stood there on the
castle grounds and watched the children playing in the
gardens.  Heard their voices singing their songs. 
Reached out and touched a little girl’s hand, taking
the flower that she offered him, then watched as she
vanished in the early morning mists.  He swore that
what he saw was so real.  He actually touched that
child’s hand, felt the softness of her skin, the
warmth of her touch, then watched as she stepped back
from handing him a flower, and vanished right before
his eyes.  How do you explain that?"
	Iaian stood there mutely for a few microns,
remembering the stories that his friend had told him
about that study that had changed Mikhos’ own
skeptical view regarding the supernatural and the
paranormal.  That study had changed his thinking
dramatically and made a believer out of him.  That was
when Mikhos also started believing in God again. 
Studying the works of the Lords of Kobol again.  It
had renewed his faith just as it had renewed his fear
of everything that was associated with the teachings
of the black arts.  Ghosts was one of those things.  
	"I can’t."  Iaian replied quietly.  
	"I cannot explain what happened to us back there,
Iaian.  I cannot explain what has been happening to us
since we arrived on this world, but I can say this. 
Something is happening here.  Something or someone
believes that we are necessary to some ‘test’ that is
going on.  That woman that we both saw – and you just
told me that you saw her too."  Joscelyne said before
Iaian could reply.  "That woman is the key.  We find
out her connection to everything that is happening
here, then we may have a good portion of the answers
to our questions."
	"So you believe that she is a ghost."  Iaian said,
looking to meet Joscelyne’s gaze.  
	Joscelyne shook her head slightly and started to
slowly pace back and forth.  "I don’t know if she is a
ghost or a figment of our imaginations, although I
cannot see both of us having the same dream moment. 
Maybe she is a member of a race of beings that is able
to come and go at their whim.  That can materialize
and disappear with a single thought.  I don’t know but
I am not going to discount any possibility at this
moment.  But I’ll tell you one thing, Iaian.  I want
to know what is happening here.  Not just from a
professional standpoint, but a personal one." 
Joscelyne stopped and pointed to the clothing she
wore, the dark red blood had now turned a rusty brown
now that it was dried.  "It has became very personal."
	"Alright.  If they are ghosts or apparitions or
whatever, then we have no way to battle them." 
Iaian’s tone began to change, as though the fight in
him was returning.  The professional demeanor along
with it’s curiosity for the unexplained.  "But if they
are a race of beings native to this planet, that would
explain a lot."
	"But if there are beings living here on this planet,
why have we only seen one?  The woman?  Why haven’t we
seen others?"
	"Maybe she is a watcher of some sort.  She has been
sent to check us out.  See what we are like."
	"But then why have we been experiencing all that has
been happening to us?  Is she the cause of it, or
maybe her people?"
	Iaian shook his head.  "I wish I knew all the answers
to this one.  What we experienced back there is
something I do not want to go through again."
	"That makes two of us."  Joscelyne replied, then
looked questioningly at Iaian.  "But what if she is a
ghost?  An apparition of what was here on this planet?
 This world looks so dead.  No plant life, no water,
nothing but sand, heat and ruins of what was.  Nothing
could exist here.  At least not life as we know it."
	"I can’t bring myself to believe that she is a ghost,
Joscelyne.  Not at all."  Iaian walked over to the
doorway of the wall that was still standing from a
building that at one time stood there.  He reached out
and touched the doorway with a bit of something almost
akin to reverence – a reverence for the past.  For
what was or what seemed to be at one time.  "No, this
was not created by a ghost or spirits.  These were
fashioned by someone.  Maybe they are not humans.  We
have only really began our journey out into the far
reaches of the universe, Josce.  There was nothing
ever written that said that we, the human race was the
one and only race out there.  We have already seen
evidence of that with the cylons.  The original race
was reptilian.  They almost looked like Arian water
lizards, only quite larger."
	"We have seen other races, with distinctly different
needs for living.  The Arunaks.  The race that we
encountered almost a yahren ago.  They feared the
darkness.  Their planet had 3 suns and there was no
darkness, no night on their planet.  Their gravity was
twice as to that of Caprica and their atmosphere was
definitely thinner than ours.  Whoever lived here,
whoever created the city that once stood here.  Maybe
they did not need water to survive.  Maybe they did
not need plant life to survive.  Maybe their food
source was something that is totally foreign to us."
	Joscelyne walked over and stood behind Iaian, gently
placing her hand on his arm.  "Iaian, we are coming up
with endless theories and questions, but no real solid
answers.  We need to go back to the base camp, inform
them what we have experienced, and then proceed from
there."
	Iaian looked at Joscelyne, then back to the stones,
observing the roughness of the stone, the way that the
stone was cut to create a curved doorway, then to the
faint, time worn drawings that could still be made out
in those stones.  They were almost the same style that
he had seen in the burial chamber.  The ones that
talked of death, guardians, and tests.  The ones that
Iaian wished he could go back and study further.  The
paintings on the walls, the inscriptions on the
stones.  Then there was the woman.  The stunningly
beautiful woman who stood there silently watching him.
 Staring at him.  The feeling of evil that he felt
when he looked at her and at her smiling face.  The
coldness that suddenly filled the room, then there was
the smell the permeated the air – the sweet smell
almost like the flowers in his mother’s garden back in
the colonies.  It had been a lulling smell.  One that
had caused him to feel as if he had ran for metrons,
to the point that he was so tired that he was unable
to speak, let alone run.  
	Run.  That was what the voice had told him to do. 
Run.  But it wasn’t her voice.  The woman’s, but it
was a whispered voice.  One that he had heard after he
had made out some of the symbols.  Then there was
*her* voice.  The woman who told him that he was one
of the selected.  The survival of his people depended
on him for some unknown reason.  Iaian had no idea why
he was even one of the selected.  Were there others? 
That question caused Iaian to look again at Joscelyne
who was still standing beside him, her slender hand
resting on his arm.  Was it possible that Joscelyne
was one of the selected also?  She was there in that
chamber, even though she was covered with blood.  
	A though crossed Iaian’s mind like a bolt of
lightning.  Was Joscelyne’s experience back there a
part of the test that the stone spoke of?  Was that
what the selected had to endure was tests to prove
something?  But what and to who?  To the woman?  To
her people?  To who?  Iaian’s mind was whirling with
more questions and still no concrete answers.  They
had to return to base camp before anything else
happened to them.  Maybe there were more of the
‘selected’ there at the camp.  More that had been
having the same experiences that he and Joscelyne were
having.  
	"We have to get back to the camp."  Iaian said, his
voice containing his feeling of urgency that was
starting to come over him at the thought of returning
to the camp.  
	"What’s wrong?"  Joscelyne questioned as she looked
at Iaian’s face, that barely concealed something that
she did not want to feel right now.  Worry.  Intense
worry, along with trepidation.  
	"We just have to get back to the camp.  Now!"  With
that, Iaian grabbed her hand and started running back
to the place where the Galactica teams had set up
their base camp.  For some reason though, one that he
could not explain, he did not expect anyone to be
there.

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

	Athena was uncomfortable, but the intense desert heat
of the afternoon was not the reason for her
discomfort, nor was it the dire situation with her
brother.  No, what bothered Athena the most at that
micron was the sensation that she had – one of being
observed.  Watched by someone… or something.   
	Athena shivered slightly at the thought and looked
around her surroundings.  This place was dark, dreary
and foreboding, but it was shelter from the heat of
the mid-day sun.  But was it safe?  Was it secure? 
Was there something out there waiting for them or were
‘they’ in here?  Athena chided herself for her
overactive imagination, but felt some degree of
vindication to her thoughts and fears.  Too much had
been happening for her to feel any degree of comfort. 
Her brother was lying on the cold, hard floor, dying,
no medical treatment available.  His life slowly
seeping out of him, even though they finally got the
bleeding to stop.  Their friends, comrades – gone,
vanished without a trace.  And they, the 5 of them,
were alone.  Marooned on this hostile world.  
	Athena felt a stronger shiver run up her spine as she
watched the expression on Starbuck’s face as he knelt
beside Apollo’s still form.  She watched closely as he
and Sheba carefully placed Apollo in a semi-sitting
position in an attempt to stop the bleeding
permanently.  Athena noticed that the stoic expression
that Starbuck kept on his face as he applied the
makeshift bandage to the ugly wound.  His face may
have been unreadable to the others, but to Athena it
was like an open book.  Athena knew the real Starbuck,
the one that he kept hidden away from the public
persona he exuded, and she knew that expression on his
face.  Athena had learned early in life not to
question the relationship, the friendship of her older
brother and the gregarious man.  There had been times
when Athena had wondered if Starbuck was a long lost
brother from the way that he had fit so easily into
their family from the onset.  As the two boys grew
closer, Athena had battled through some intense
jealousy for she had always been Apollo’s closest
friend, his confidant, his co-conspirator in crime,
but suddenly Starbuck began filling the role that had
always been Athena’s, and she had felt left-out.  
	The arrival of Starbuck had changed the siblings
relationship in ways that had scared Athena.  Even
though she had many other friends, none knew her in
the ways that her older brother did.  It was her fear
of losing Apollo and the bond that they shared that
had turned Athena into a shrew.  Her attitude turned
hateful to the blonde haired boy that as time passed,
she had come to love and admire as much as she loved
and admired her older brother.  Once upon a time she
had dreamed that she would grow up and seal with
Starbuck, but she now knew that those dreams were just
that – girlish fantasies.  Athena knew that she and
Starbuck were destined to be no more than very close
friends.  They shared two things in common – their
friendship with each other and their love for Apollo.
	Just like Sheba.  Athena looked over at the person in
question, and felt her heart go out to the strong
willed woman who was quietly treating Apollo’s
injuries.  Sheba, who had to overcome adversity on a
battlestar that was not used to a woman in its ranks
as a fighter pilot, plus the added stigma of being the
child of its commander.  Cain was a tough act to
follow, just like Athena and her brothers had to
follow in their father’s shadow.  Then, to Athena’s
surprise and delight, the daughter of Cain and her
headstrong, obstinate brother fell in love, although
to everyone else it looked as though the two of them
just about hated each other.  The tide changed so that
the two adversaries became friends – close friends. 
Now they were two people deeply in love with each
other and Athena could not be happier for them.
	But at present, they were in a situation that looked
doomed.  A situation that looked as though her beloved
brother, the only one that she had left to her, would
not live through, and that in itself created such
hopelessness within Athena that she did not know if
she could overcome.  She sighed and placed her head on
her crossed arms that were resting against the rough
stone, her thoughts depressing and her spirits at
their lowest point.  Absently she gently pushed back
strands of her dark hair that had fallen across her
cheek, her eyes drifted to the still form of her older
brother.  
	‘Oh, Zac, what am I to do?’ Athena thought silently
to herself, wishing that she could cry on her younger
brother’s shoulder, listen to his ever present
optimistic outlook on life -- that everything would
work itself out in the end.  In her mind’s eye, Athena
could see her younger brother again, full of life, a
gleam of mischief in his eyes.  His smile, so full of
charm and humor, so engaging.  Athena had seen Zac use
that special charm of his many times over so he could
get his way, or get out of a sticky situation.  He had
learned that special knack from Starbuck.  But like
Apollo, Zac had a certain air of shyness about him
that gave him that same special appeal with women that
Apollo had.  
	Athena felt her thoughts drift back to when the three
of them were children, growing up under their mother’s
watchful eye.  Their father was often gone for
sectars, even yahrens at a time due to his military
calling, but the three of them knew that their father
had a job to do and that job was very important to the
safety of millions.  They knew that their father loved
them no matter where he was.  Zac use to say that
their father was almost the eye of God, for Adama knew
things that had happened to them while he was gone. 
Athena remembered a particular situation that she and
Apollo had gotten themselves into.  When their father
had returned home on leave from his duties several
sectars later, he knew all the details about what had
happened.  It never crossed the three siblings’ minds
that maybe their mother had informed their father of
the escapade and its consequences.  No, the three of
them had been in awe of the fact that their father had
known about the situation without even being there. 
Zac had been the one who said, with awe and wonder in
his voice, that maybe their father was like God and
could see everything that they did from the bridge of
his battlestar.  Athena and Apollo had just stared at
him, saying nothing, but no other explanation was
plausible in their young minds, because they knew that
their father was a very powerful and respected man.  
	The eye of God.  Athena felt tears gather in her eyes
as she thought back to those days of youthful
innocence.  When their biggest problems were who stole
whose toys, who had done what to whom.  Athena let the
tears flow freely down her cheeks, not wanting to stop
them.  She felt the moisture gather on her arms, but
didn’t give it a second thought.  Her thoughts were
scattered, confused.  In disarray.  Her memories of
the three of them together were overwhelming her,
making her feel disjointed and totally alone.  
	Suddenly, with the swiftness of a laser blast, Athena
felt sensations that she had felt before.  Fear raise
its ugly head for when she tried to move, she found
that she could not.  She found that she did not even
have the strength to sit up, to move her arms or her
legs.  Her body refused to respond to her brain’s
commands.  Just as before, Athena felt an icy cold
shiver go up her spine, but this time the reason was
different, as though something…or maybe someone had
just touched her.  A lethargic feeling stole over
Athena very quickly as she tried to cry out, to call
for help of some sort, but found that she could not
make a sound.  All she could do was be quiet and
still.  
	In the light of day, unlike before when in happened
in the darkness of her tent, Athena laid there, her
head resting on her arms, but what was the same was
that her body felt like it wasn’t her own.  She felt
strange.  Out of control.  Like she was an observer in
her own body, but was suddenly unable to control her
own actions.  Her own thoughts.  Slowly a warmth crept
over her body, like the gentle fingers of a lover.  No
matter how comforting the warmth was, now matter how
much she wanted to let herself submit to that feeling,
she knew what was coming next.  It was happening all
over again, and Athena felt more than fear for just
herself.  She felt fear for Apollo.  
	She had been here before, and no matter how hard she
tried to focus on the reality that was in front of
her, no matter how traumatic it was, how hurtful, she
felt the unreal world of her dreams starting to slowly
take over her mind.  In a flash, she wasn’t in the
shadow-cast darkness of ruins of the temple anymore,
but in the bright sunlight of day.  Gone were
Starbuck, Sheba and Apollo.  All around her the hot
desert wind gusted as the flying particles of sand
stung her face.  Athena looked down at herself to see
if she was still dressed in her warriors uniform, like
the first time this happened.  She still was, but, as
before, her laser was gone.  
	Athena silently waited for the fear that she felt
before to make itself known, but there was nothing. 
Not this time.  All she felt was a determined calm. 
In the place of the fear was anger – anger at what had
happened to them.  Anger about the unprovoked attack
on Apollo.  The anger grew by leaps and bounds till
Athena felt intense fury come over her.  Fear was not
even there within her.  No.  Fury, anger, hatred for
this place that they were marooned on.  Hatred for the
beings that shot down her brother in cold blood. 
Anger, building and building within her.  It burned
into her soul with the heat and fierceness of fire,
consuming her thoughts, her melancholy memories of the
past.  
	She had no weapons at her disposal.  Nothing for her
to fight with.  Nothing for her to extract revenge
upon the beings that shot her older brother.  And that
made her rage grow, like a plant growing in the life
giving rays of the sun.  Rising, growing higher and
taller.  Her brother.  The one who had always
protected her, kept her from harm.  The one who would
tell her stories when she was afraid of the summer
storms that would rage outside their home on Caprica. 
Apollo.  She could see his green eyes sparkling at
her, as he told some silly joke that he had heard from
Starbuck.  Teasing her as only he could.  She could
hear his laughter as if he was standing right there
beside her, but she knew that he wasn’t. 
	Athena felt something on her cheeks, something wet. 
She reached up and brushed away the tears that were
rolling freely down her cheeks.  Her anger, her rage
made her movements almost jerky as she stood there
straight as a metal rod.  Her hands still wet with her
tears, she clenched them at her side as she decided
just to let the tears flow unheeded.  Her grief for
her brother, the love that she felt for him boiling to
the surface as a sob escaped past her lips.  Apollo. 
Because of this place, her brother was going to die
and if she had to, she would die right here with him. 
With that resolve, Athena knew that she would do
whatever it was she had to do to save her brother, no
matter what the consequences were for her.  
	"I’m sorry, Apollo,"  Athena whispered, looking up to
the bright clear blue sky.  The sun shone brightly,
its heat almost unbearable, but Athena was past the
point of feeling it anymore.  All she felt was cold. 
Her fingers as she clenched them into fists were cold.
 Her face was cool to the touch, but not from her
tears.  The suns rays were not warming her, not
causing her to sweat.  Athena felt no perspiration
growing on her body that was covered by the heavy
uniform material.  Something nagged her about that
fact in the back of her mind, but it was of such minor
concern for her that she pushed it from her mind.  
	"Athena!"  
	Athena heard her name being called by a familiar
voice – one that she had not heard in four
yahrens…because he was dead!  In as much as she was
hoping against all hope that there was someone else
here with her, at least someone who could help her,
the voice stirred memories that she did not want to
relive.  Memories of a similar dream…  Athena turned
and saw a silhouette in the distance.  The darkened
outline of someone walking towards her, waving to her.
 
	"Athena!" the voice called again.  "Hurry up!  You
need to catch up to us.  Are you coming?"
	Athena felt her anger subside somewhat as fear clutch
at her throat as she looked at the silhouette.  She
tried shielding her eyes from the bright blinding
light of the sun so that she could make out who was
calling her, who the silhouette really was because it
could not be Zac.  There was no way that it could be
Zac.  She was not going to be fooled again like she
was in the first dream.  There was no way that he
could be here because she SAW him die.  He was dead! 
There was NO way around that fact.  
	"ZAC!!"  Athena screamed at the top of her lungs,
angrily.  A gust of wind carried sand particles into
her eyes and Athena quickly wiped the stinging sand
away with an impatient brush of her hands.  She looked
at the form in in the distance at its identity became
clear to her.  The tall, lean figure walking with the
familiar gait towards her, then he stopped, waving his
arms at her with a happy expression on his face, but
Athena could not smile back at him.  She did not want
to even believe that this person was indeed her
younger brother Zac because there was no logical way
that this was possible.  He was DEAD!
	"ZAC!"  Athena shouted, wishing he would move closer
to her so she could get a better look at him, but the
image of Zac seemed to want to keep his distance from
her for some reason.  Athena’s suspicions were coming
full force to her.  This was not Zac, so just who in
hades was he?  And just how did he come to look like
her brother?  Athena stared intently at the image, who
slowly stopped waving to her.  His arms dropped to his
sides, but the smile never left his face.  Athena
could see his dark hair shining in the sunlight.  She
felt a momentary tug at her heart as she looked at his
youthful face.  How many times had she cried and
pleaded with the Lords for something like this to
happen?  Where she could see and talk to Zac one more
time to tell him everything that she felt about him? 
To tell him just how much she loved him and how much
she missed him?
	Athena felt the tears that had dried up just centons
before start to build again.  This was not Zac and she
had to steel herself against her feelings for her
younger brother, so that she did not fall into the
trap that she was afraid was being set up for her. 
She had to be alert.  She had to be on her guard.  It
seemed logical that whoever was behind this Zac image
were the individuals behind the attack on her other
brother.  It was strange, Athena thought quietly to
herself.  It was as if the beings that lived here on
this planet were using their most vulnerable emotions
against them.  She knew, without a doubt, that the
beings that attacked Apollo and the one who had
created this false image of Zac lived on this planet. 
But where?
	Athena looked around the barren wasteland that
surrounded her.  Everything here was a part of her
dream.  The dream that she seemed to be living right
now, only some things were not the same.  Her actions
were not the same.  That was the change, her!  
	"Who are you?!?"  Athena shouted angrily to the image
of Zac.  "Why are you doing this to us?"
	"Athena, it’s me.  Zac."  The image responded, its
expression never changing.  "Don’t you recognize me?"
	Athena shook her head, taking several steps closer to
the image.  Her emotions were beginning to take a more
tilted turn as though she was caught in a vortex of
some sort.  This was insane!
	"NO!  You are not my baby brother!  You are NOT Zac! 
Zac is dead!"  Athena replied angrily, taking a few
more steps towards the image, then more till she was
walking heatedly towards Zac, but abruptly, Athena
stopped.  She should have been getting closer to the
image of the young man in front of her, but instead he
looked as though he was just as far away from her as
he was before!  Athena stopped still, staring for
several microns, then turned her thoughts back to her
earlier musings.  
	There was only one explanation for what she was
seeing -- a hologram.  That was the only logical
explanation that came to mind for this image and how
it came to be here, but how would the inhabitants of
this planet know her thoughts, her memories?  Were
they telepaths?  Empaths?  Were they able to tap into
the Galactica’s computers and find out information
that was stored there to use against them?  There had
to be a logical way to explain everything.  She knew
that this image before her was NOT Zac.  
	Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, Athena caught
sight of a slender figure walking slowly across the
sands towards Zac.  Athena felt her heart leap into
her throat as she looked at the man, her mind
recognizing the figure instantly.  Apollo!  But that
was impossible.  Apollo was wounded, lying on the sand
covered stone floor of a crumbling building back in
reality.  Or rather, her reality.  Athena wanted to
sit down and cry as she looked at Apollo, his face
smiling in greeting at his younger brother.  Athena
watched as Apollo walked across the burning sands,
then stopped, only metrons from their younger sibling.
 For several centons, the two men stood side by side,
then Apollo turned and looked in Athena’s direction,
slowly motioning her to come over to where they stood,
but Athena stood fast.  Knowing what was going to
happen next, but also fighting with the deep desire
for what she saw before her now to be reality.  
	The young woman stood there silently battling her
conflicting emotions, knowing full well the whole
truth of the matter, but unable to stop or quell what
she felt.  Athena wanted to truly believe that this
was Zac, that Apollo was well and was standing there
with their younger sibling.  That everything was the
way it was before the Cylons destroyed their world. 
Before their mother died, before their home was
nothing but charred rubble.  Before Zac was blown out
of the stars, almost making it to the Galactica and to
safety.  Athena grappled with what she knew was her
reality and the ‘reality’ that seemed to be before her
right now.  
	Athena cried out softly, placing her hands on each
side of her head as the sound of rushing water seemed
to fill her ears and a slight throbbing started at her
temples.  The low cry carried itself on the whirling
desert wind towards the two men who were standing on
the next rise.  Athena thought that she heard Apollo
say her name in a concerned tone, but she was not sure
if that was reality or fantasy.  Tears of anger,
frustration and hopelessness impaired her vision,
blurring the images before her, so she was unsure of
what she was really seeing, but also unsure of what
she felt or what she should do next.  She found
herself incapable of any action, incapable of logical
thought.  An ever so slight sensation of pain along
with a sense of hopelessness clouded her mind, making
her feel as though she was a very young child again. 
There was no one here to help her, no one here to make
her decisions for her.  
	"Athena…"  
	The feeling that had only microns before been just a
bit of pressure in her head was suddenly a full blown,
pounding headache.  The rush of blood to her head was
making her lightheaded and she fell to her knees, her
hands tightly gripping the sides of her head as though
she was fighting to keep it from blowing apart. 
Athena felt the heat of the sand make it’s way through
the fabric of her uniform and start burning the skin
of her legs, but she could not make herself get up to
get away from it.  
	"Athena…"
	She wanted to reply.  She wanted to answer Apollo,
but she couldn’t.  Her mind was going numb and she
just wanted to lay down and forget everything.  She
wanted to curl herself into a small ball and hide from
what was happening to her.  Let Apollo handle it all. 
He was the oldest, the responsible one, the bright
hope of her parents.  She was just a daughter.  A
girl.  She was not a son.  No, her great-great-great
aunt Audriana was right.  She was a girl, not a boy. 
She could not follow her foolish dreams.  
	"Athena…"
	She would never achieve her own command of a
battlestar, she could not be a viper pilot.  No, the
very elderly and frail woman had told her in her reed
thin voice that Athena should not wish for such
foolish things.  Should not dream of battlestars,
vipers, fighting amongst the stars with her brothers. 
No, Athena should be thinking of finding a nice young
man of a respectable Caprician family, sealing and
having babies with that man.
	"Athena…"
	Living a life that a woman was meant to live.  One of
protection, one of genteel elegance.  Of social
functions, of charity work, of having children and
taking care of their proper upbringing.  Of garden
clubs, of civic volunteer work.  Athena started
sobbing more.  Her dreams were scattering like dust on
the wind, blowing from hither to yonder, dispersing
and disappearing from her sight.  Athena could hear
her aunt as though she was standing right there beside
her, whispering those words in her ear.  
	"Athena…"
	"Apollo…"  Athena cried out with a sob, her face red,
her cheeks soaked with tears.  She knew who was
calling her name.  She knew Apollo was here.  Apollo
was always here with her.  No matter where she was,
her older brother was there with her.  Her best
friend.  Hadn’t Apollo always told Athena that she
could be anything she wanted to be if she set her mind
to it?  Apollo had never gotten along with their aged
aunt, claiming that her thinking was almost in the
dark ages.  Apollo always believed that women could do
anything that men could.  At least when it came to
other women, or his sister, but that consideration did
not extend to a woman that Apollo loved.
	"Athena…"
	No, Apollo’s open mindedness fell away when it came
to a woman that her brother was in love with.  Serina.
 Look at what happened to Serina and how Apollo blamed
himself, even though it was Serina’s choice.  Now
Sheba.  Her brother was in love with one of the most
stubborn, headstrong women that Athena had ever known.
 The daughter of another commander.  Sheba was a viper
pilot herself, highly decorated and honored in her own
right for her service to the colonies.  Her skills
were just as highly developed as Apollo’s or even
Starbuck’s.  
	"Athena, do you hear me…."
	‘Yes, I hear you, Apollo,’ Athena thought to herself,
but she could not voice the words as they felt caught
in her throat.  ‘Make it all go away, Apollo!  Make
this nightmare go away!’  Athena cried silently in her
mind.  
	Athena felt the warmth of a loving, sheltering
embrace steal over her, wrapping itself around her in
a protective warmth.  She felt suddenly very tired and
sleepy, as the invisible arms that exuded love and
understanding cushioned her tired body as Athena felt
herself fall to the sand.  Not hot at all, now the
sand exuded a comforting warmth that enveloped her
tired body, cushioning it.  Athena felt darkness come
creeping over her mind as she felt someone stroking
her hair in such a comforting gesture.  Apollo use to
do that when they were younger, just stroke Athena’s
soft hair, gliding his fingers through it, murmuring
soft words of comfort to her.  
	Exhausted.  That was what she felt right now.  So
very, very exhausted.  So tired.  Just want to lie
down here and rest…
	Those were the last thoughts Athena had as she fell
quickly to sleep.  

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

	Starbuck knelt there on the hot sand, shock making
its way through his system, his mind numb to the
reality of what was happening to him.  He was seeing
things and now he was hearing things.  Voices of
people long dead.  And Zac was definitely dead. 
Killed in the surprise attack on the colonial fleet
and the colonies.  The first to die in the final
desperate fight for humanity.  So young.  So innocent.
 Zac.  Just out of the academy on his first assignment
as a Colonial Warrior.  Zac, who died in Starbuck’s
place.  
	"Starbuck, would you please turn around and talk to
me?"
	Starbuck just continued to lay there, uncertain of
what to do next.  Did he dare look to see if it was
really and truly Zac standing there?  Starbuck felt
guilt start to overcome him.  Zac died because
Starbuck should have been the one on that patrol with
Apollo.  But no!  Starbuck had to give in to the kid –
the baby brother.  The only one that Starbuck felt he
had.  In his heart, Zac was his brother, too.  
	Ever since the first time Starbuck went home with
Apollo,  Zac was there, a energetic 9 yahren old.  All
the innocence of a child, so much energy that Starbuck
wondered on more than one occasion if it ever got
tired.  The child that grew up into the young man who
watched Starbuck as he pulled more than one con on an
unsuspecting someone.  Watching Starbuck work his way
around the seriousness that was Apollo, or observing
as Starbuck worked his charm on the ladies.  Even
Starbuck had to admit that Apollo and Zac were
opposites.  Apollo was serious where Zac was
lighthearted and carefree, almost to the point of
recklessness.  
	Starbuck could see it all if it were yesterday, Zac
as a child, as a teenager, as an adult.  Confidence
almost to the point of cockiness, but not quite over
that line.  A gift with charming the ladies and it was
never just one at a time.  Rebellious regarding what
and how he lived his life.  Driven to better his
brother’s record.  Sometimes Starbuck was almost
worried about Zac and his desire to better his older
brother.  Zac always had complained that it was tough
living in Apollo’s shadow because instructors and
other people always expected him to be just like his
oldest sibling.  There were times when Zac was even
jealous of Athena, driven to beat her records at the
academy.  But Apollo’s records were always the goal,
always the standard that Zac felt he had to better.  
	But for all of Zac’s youthful drive to best his
brother, Starbuck also knew how tight the siblings
were to each other.  The bonds that they shared that
even death could not sever.  Starbuck could see it
clearly, the day that Zac stood behind his older
brother against members of another squadron from the
Phoenix, a group that Blue Squadron had had to come to
the assistance of at the battle of Ursa, one of the
outer colonial outposts.  Fire Squadron had been the
pride of the Phoenix until their commander, a cocky
young Captain by the name of Zaphra, had made a
critical mistake, nearly losing the lives of the men
and women under his command.  They had never gotten
over the fact that Blue Squadron from the Galactica
had had to save their astrums.  Starbuck had been with
Apollo and his comrades that evening.  Zac had been
there with a few of his friends, celebrating the
finish of mid-term exams along with the fact that Zac
only had one more session to go before he graduated
from the academy as a full-fledged warrior with the
rank of Lieutenant.  
	The confrontation had been one that could have been
rather painful if it had ever gotten off the ground. 
But it never did.  The eight pilots from Fire Squadron
backed down when they discovered that they would be
evenly matched, even outnumbered when Zac stood there
beside his older brother.  Starbuck, Boomer, Jolly,
Giles, besides Apollo made five.  But the odds greatly
improved with the addition of Zac and his friends.  
	"Starbuck, I am not going away, so you might as well
turn around and talk to me."  Irritation was beginning
to be heard in that voice.  Just like Zac.
	Starbuck turned his head to look at the young man
that stood off to his side, his body blocking the sun
from shining in the Galactica warrior’s eyes. 
Starbuck looked at the image before him then slowly
rose from his knees as he looked up that the tall
young man before him.  Dressed in the uniform of a
colonial warrior, the insignia of the Galactica on his
sleeve.  It was Zac.  But how?  Starbuck tried to
organize his thoughts as he got to his feet and looked
at the visage before him.  
	"I’m real, Starbuck.  I swear I am."
	"No!"  Starbuck shouted, his anger at all that was
happening to him erupted to the surface.  "No!  Zac is
dead, so you _cannot_ be Zac."
	"But I am, Starbuck."  
	Starbuck snorted as he turned and walked a few steps
away from the image that he still did not believe
existed.  The older warrior ran his fingers through
his dark blond hair in agitation and frustration. 
Then he placed his hands on his hips and looked out at
the stark landscape before him.  
	"What can I do to prove to you that I am real?  That
you are not just imagining me?"
	"Tell me what you are doing here.  What I’m doing
here."
	"You’re here because we need to talk.  You’re in
danger and I am trying to help you."
	"Danger?"  Starbuck turned smartly to confront the
illusion.  "Help me?  Help me do what?  Maybe you’re
the reason all of this is happening.  Maybe you’re
part of it."
	"Starbuck, Apollo will die without my help.  You have
to listen to me."
	"NO!"  Starbuck shouted at the top of his lungs, hurt
and pain in his voice.  He now thought he knew which
was real and what was a dream.  This was the dream. 
"Maybe you want to kill Apollo.  Maybe you’re the
reason that he is lying back there in that decaying
structure, bleeding to death!"
	"You’re wrong!"  Zac’s voice started to rise.  "I
love my brother!  I love my father and sister and I
love you Starbuck, like you are my own brother, but if
I don’t get through to you, if I don’t make you
understand what is happening, then all of you are
going to die."
	Starbuck looked intently at Zac, then to the ground,
expelling a breath as he did so.  Then he looked back
to the image before him.  Zac seemed to read something
in Starbuck’s expression as he started to speak again.
 
	"You have to pull yourselves together.  You have to
understand your dreams.  All of you will have them."
	"What do you know of my ‘dreams?’"  retorted Starbuck
scornful.
	"I know that they’re terrifying you.  Apollo’s
memories of his dreams caused him to change their
outcome.  He saved Sheba from certain death, but he
couldn’t save himself from _them_.  He walked right
into their plans."
	"Who’s plans?  What do you know of all of this?"  the
mistrust that colored Starbuck’s voice was
unmistakable.
	"I know enough.  I know that you have had dreams that
you cannot explain.  I know that Apollo has had the
same dreams that have terrified him to the point of
recklessness.  I know that Athena has had dreams where
I am used against her and I kill my own brother." 
That revelation caused Starbuck to look sharply at the
illusion of Zac, and the expression that was reflected
there caused Zac to take a deep breath.  The younger
man knew he was making the situation worse with every
word he spoke but Starbuck had to listen to him. 
"Cassie, your Cassie has had dreams.  You yourself
were the one that comforted her after she suffered
through one of them."
	"How could you know that?"
	"Because even though you might not believe it, I am
Zac and even though I am physically dead, my spirit
lives on.  I watch over all of you.  I share your joys
and your sorrows.  I comfort you to the best of my
ability when times seems so hard, that you think you
can’t go on anymore.  I am there with you, no matter
what happens, to carry you when you feel like you are
falling.  To pray with you when the hope you cling to
seems so fleeting."
	Starbuck laughed sarcastically.  "You almost make it
sound like you’re an angel, Zac."
	Zac stared back at him with the most serious
expression Starbuck could ever remember seeing on the
younger man’s face.
	"I am."  

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

	Interference.  That’s what it was.  Plain and simple
interference with what they were supposed to do. 
Keenan looked at the scene in front of her.  What was
that one doing here?  Speaking to one of the humans? 
He was not one of them, nor was he one of her
creations from the memories of the humans.  No, no. 
He was one of the others.  The Enlightened Ones.  The
ones who granted the Guardians their powers and their
authority, according to legend.  The creators and
watchers of all the heavens.  The mystic ones with
wisdom as infinite as the universe and beyond.
	But Keenan was not impressed, in fact far from it. 
She was angry.  Angry with the fact that one of them
was interfering with her plan, with her test of the
disgusting race called ‘human.’  She wanted the human
parasites gone from the vastness of the heavens.  They
were like a disease to her, a blight, and one that she
felt even more animosity towards since the meeting of
the Collective Tribunal.  Keenan had entered the
meeting of the Collective Tribunal very well prepared,
her thoughts formulated, her observations clearly
documented and reviewed for presentation to the
Collective.  Then, out of nowhere, came Elyias to cut
her presentation to pieces and he had done so very
effectively.  Why was he so interested in the humans? 
What about them fascinated him so that he was willing
to risk his career and position protecting these
useless life forms?
	Keenan examined her subjects carefully.  Seven
individuals, all connected by memories and great
emotional pain.  Seven humans who were each dealing
with their own deep-seated guilt for death and
destruction in their past.  Seven who Keenan felt
would prove to the Collective Tribunal that the
humans, as a race, should not be tolerated, let alone
spared a second time, even though they felt deep
remorse for the deaths in their past.  The fact that
they still continued to kill and be killed, even
though they had those feelings, proved that they had
no conscious thoughts that they would act on to evolve
to the higher plane of thought; to resolve differences
with other races, other beings in a peaceable manner. 

	Elyias argued that she was wrong, that the humans had
evolved, that they had grown spiritually and morally. 
That they had evolved more into a race that would
prefer to end their differences with other races in a
diplomatic, non-violent manner than to decide the
matter with violence and warfare.  Elyias had stated
that he knew from his contact with this intriguing
race that they were more than willing to overlook
differences with others and look for the common ground
between themselves and others.  A common ground upon
which to work on negotiating an amicable co-existence
with another race.  He knew that at this point the
humans only went to war and fought a war with another
race to protect themselves.  Elyias argued that this
race was one of the most fascinating because of their
multifaceted make up.  He argued passionately that
this race should be one that the Collective Tribunal
should study more in depth to understand them fully.  
	In as much as Keenan argued against what Elyias
proposed, she still felt that she had been deceived
and defeated to the point of personal and professional
humiliation by a man she had once trusted, at one time
had called her friend.  Even though their differences
of opinion had made a close friendship something that
was not to be, Keenan still felt that she could count
the man amongst her ‘friend.’.  Keenan remembered with
disgust how Elyias had broken the standards and
reached out to touch one of the human women.  She
remembered the look on his human face, how he had been
almost in awe of this human woman.  Keenan had felt
her human knot and churn in anger as she stood there
watching the disgusting display.  She had felt that
the human women were ugly and distasteful so Keenan
could not understand Elyias’ seeming fascination with
them.  To be willing to reach out and touch one, or to
stand there beside one of them, offering them the
comfort of his unseen presence.  Keenan was unsure
what to really make of Elyias’ actions.
	Now she was observing one of the Enchanted Ones
speaking…yes, _speaking_ to one of the human test
subjects.  Why?  Keenan did not care what the
Enchanted Ones thought of her methods, of her test
situations.  She did not care that they were the
reason that the Guardians existed.  All she cared
about was the fact that _she_  was the one in charge
of their testing.  In charge of gathering the
information needed to present to the Collective
Tribunal.  She was not making the actual decision
regarding the continued existence of this species,
only administering the test.  The outcome was decided
by the humans themselves.  Their own actions would
determine the outcome.  Their fate.  
	So why was the Enchanted One here?  Keenan would love
to know the answer.        

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

	Sheba stared at the still form laying on the floor of
the ruins, blood staining the makeshift bandages.  So
much blood.  It didn’t seem like it would ever stop,
even though she had been able to stop the major part
of it.  Would it ever end?  Sheba felt her tears so
close to the surface, but what amazed her was that she
could not feel the tears in her eyes.  Her eyes felt
dry and nothing of what she was feeling seemed to be
showing itself on the surface -- the emotional pain,
the agony that she was experiencing.  *Apollo, what is
happening here?  Why didn’t I listen to you when you
wanted us to leave?  Why?  Why?  Why?*
	Sheba wanted to cry, wanted to release the tears that
she knew were there, but she sat, immobile as stone. 
Her expression showed a variety of emotions, but she
said nothing out loud.  She spoke no words to express
what she was feeling.  She looked over to Starbuck,
who seemed to be in his own world, sitting there
saying nothing, his eyes never leaving Apollo’s still
form.  Sheba then turned her head slowly and looked at
Athena, also sitting there, lost in a world of her
own, her blue eyes seemingly lifeless as she stared
intently at her brother.  
	Sheba slowly turned her head back to look at the man
that she loved more than she could express.  Her heart
felt as though it was breaking in two as she wished
that she could trade places with him.  She wished that
it could be her there, because the truth be known, it
should be her lying there, life slowly ebbing away
from her body, not from Apollo’s.  She worried about
infection setting in, about the lack of water
available to help cool his fevered body and the lack
of bandages.  About not one single person with medical
training standing here to help her, advise her as to
what she needed to do to save him.  
	It was all her fault.  Everything that happened here
was all her fault.  Her stubbornness had done it
again, only this time the price that was being
extracted for her bullheadedness was way too high. 
Everything that happened her was all her fault.  Why
didn’t she listen to Apollo?  Why didn’t she just do
what he asked of her?  Her mother had always told her
that hind-sight was better than fore-sight.  In this
instance, the expression fit perfectly as she dealt
with the consequences of her actions.
	Sheba thought fleetingly of the Commander,
remembering that she had not seen him for quite a
while, or so it seemed.  But in truth, Sheba was not
sure where Adama was or how long he had been gone. 
Maybe he was just outside getting fresh air.  Maybe he
was searching for the landing parties.  Who knew?  A
part of Sheba did not even really care what the
Commander was doing.  All she cared about was the man
laying on the floor in front of her and finding him
the medical attention he so desperately needed. 
Cassie.  Salik. Someone who would not let him die. 
Someone who could save him, and in the end, save her.
	And to save her, they had to help Apollo stay alive
for all her hopes and dreams for the future rested on
him.  She loved him and she knew he loved her.  She
pushed back the depression that seeped into her being.
 All she could remember at that micron was how they
had talked of sealing one day, of the children they
would eventually have.  The lives they would live on a
planet somewhere.  Even though both Apollo and Sheba
believed in the Commander’s assertion in Earth’s
existence, they were also both realists.  The fleet
had no real direction to go in and there was no
telling what they would find when they arrived.  Even
though the Ship of Lights had given them coordinates
to follow, who was to say that the coordinates were
accurate and true?  Nothing was said about how long
this journey would take or what type of civilization
existed on Earth.  Was it one that was strong enough
to defeat the Cylons?  
	Sheba was a stark realist like her father, for the
most part.  She took nothing for granted and
questioned information was given to them too freely. 
Yes, she had faith and a strong belief in her
Commander and she wanted to believe in the dream of
Earth, but what if their hopes were dashed by some
unforeseen event?  Sheba did not plan to spend the
rest of her life wandering around space, nor did she
want her children to not know what it was like to run
in the green grass, play in the bright warmth of the
sun, or swim in the warm waters of a lake or ocean. 
	Sheba knew that if the time came where the Cylons
were no longer a threat and a planet that was right to
settle on came across their paths, that both Apollo
and Sheba would seriously contemplate the decision to
leave the fleet and settle there.  Adama had accepted
the fact that some day, there would be a planet or a
system that was perfect for their people.  The
Commander was wise enough to know that many just
wanted a planet where they could live out their lives
and raise their families in peace.  The more both
Sheba and Apollo had thought about it, the more the
both of them realized that they did not want to live
out their lives confined on a battlestar in space.  A
large part of their decision came from the fact that
they did not want to raise children in a place where
they would never know what their parents knew from the
colonies -- sunshine, green grass, tall trees, plants
and animals.  To swim in blue waters.  To enjoy life. 

	Guilt loomed even larger within Sheba’s mind and
heart, for she could still hear Apollo in her mind,
asking her to go back to the fleet.  Asking her, not
telling her or ordering her like he could have but
almost pleading with her to leave this place that
distressed him so.  But no, she had to jump to
conclusions that this place reminded him of his dead
wife, Serina.  Her memory was something that Sheba had
never really gotten up the courage to discuss with
Apollo.  They had talked about the woman almost in
passing, but never really sat down and seriously
discussed Apollo’s time with her, and how he felt
about her.  
	It was total cowardice on her part, an emotion that
she was not used to dealing with, but it was an apt
description of what she was feeling, for she was
afraid that maybe Apollo loved Serina and her memory
more than he loved her.  There was always that nagging
doubt in her mind.  It sat there like a feline, ready
to pounce on her without warning.  Sheba just did not
want to discuss Serina.  No way, no how.  Sheba could
not even put into words how she felt when she heard
the woman’s name even mentioned in passing.  It took
everything in her not to leave the room.  Sheba
wondered though, was it jealousy or insecurity that
caused her to feel this way?  
	Over a yahren ago, Cassie had taken Sheba aside once
and tried to find out why Serina’s memory bothered
Sheba so much.  It was something that Sheba could not
explain to her friend in words that made sense.  Part
of her was jealous of what Apollo and Serina shared. 
That bond that connected Apollo to her in death and
made him a walking corpse himself.  Some of her
reaction was based on battlestar gossip, which she
knew was about as accurate as shooting a lupus with an
numo.  But she still listened.  More than a few did
not like Serina, but opinions were not expressed as to
why.  Others felt that she was a beautiful woman and
believed that she and Apollo were meant for each
other.  
	Then there was what she heard from Starbuck.  His
reactions and his admission that he had been very
jealous of Serina made him feel that he was losing
Apollo’s friendship because of her.  He was not as
available as he used to be.  Serina demanded his
attentions and if they socialized, it was away from
the pilots.  Sheba had understood Starbuck’s feelings,
but wished that she could explain her own to Cassie,
just as she could at one time explain her deepest
emotions and fears to her friend, Moira.  Explain the
fear that she felt along with the animosity towards a
woman that she had never even met.  Her reactions were
totally opposite of Sheba’s normal character.  Sheba
had grown up under the watchful eye of the media,
being her father’s daughter, and knew how damaging and
hurtful misinformation about a person could be.  So
Sheba tried to keep her mind open and ignore idle
gossip.  
	But this was something more than she had ever had to
deal with before.  She was waging a battle with
herself, and unfortunately she was losing, just as she
felt that she was losing Apollo.  She loved him with
every fiber of her being.  She had loved him for so
long and waited for him to come to terms with his own
feelings about her and about his dead wife.  She
understood why Apollo was the way he was.  Sheba
understood his moods, his feelings, the emotions he
tried to hide from everyone else.  Every step they
took together in their relationship was to a different
plateau.  Apollo was cautious, but there were reasons
for that.  Reasons that Sheba felt she finally
understood fully now.  
	Sheba remembered times in their lives together, as
she sat there.  The memories were sweet and precious
to her.  How they started their relationship on the
Gazientep.  They had been dancing around a
relationship, each waiting for the other to make a
move.  Finally Apollo had.  Even though he had planned
on telling her how much he loved her that night, he
had not been given the chance.  Terrorists blew up the
Gazientep, damaging it beyond repair, and in turn,
killing and injuring scores of people in the process. 
Sheba had almost been one of them.
	Sheba had heard many stories about that time from
Starbuck, Athena, Cassie, even the Commander.  She had
been amazed at what they told her about what happened
and about Apollo’s actions at that time, his
protectiveness towards her.  How he had not let anyone
else take care of Sheba, except in rare instances and
then, in the quiet and solitude of the Celestial Dome,
she had heard Apollo’s side of things.  More memories
flitted across her mind – dancing with her captain on
the Rising Star and in his quarters.  Nova yahrens and
how they spent them together.  The first time they
attended a Taurian Festival of Hearts.  Sheba had been
amazed at the reverence the Taurians had for this
festival which celebrated love and family.  The spell
that had been woven around her and Apollo the first
time they attended and how they always made sure that
they attended that celebration each yahren.  
	More memories came to her.  How they would argue,
then make up.  How they could never stay angry with
each other for very long.  She fingered the necklace
that hung just underneath her uniform.  The rose
colored Eternity stone hung delicately entwined in the
gold that was spun around it to hold it in place. 
Apollo gave that to her for her last nova yahren,
after they had left a party held for her by her
friends.  They had gone to his quarters, where dinner
was sitting by candlelight, waiting for them.  Soft
music played in the background as they danced, holding
each other close.  She could still hear the soft
strains of the music…
	Sheba wanted to cry out as the memories started to
cripple her beyond all thought or movement.  She
wrapped her arms around her waist as though she was in
severe pain.  But the tears would not come, the cries
would not release themselves past her dry lips that
were pressed tightly together.  She felt so
overwhelmed by her emotions that she just wanted to
run from here, screaming to release the intense
pressure she felt within.  She wanted Apollo to sit up
and smile at her, tell her that he was just fine.  She
wished with all her heart that this was all just a
horrible dream.
	A dream.  That’s what started all of this.  A dream. 
Apollo’s dream, or should she say ‘dreams’?  Athena
had eluded to the fact that she had been having some
sleepless nights because of her nightmares or
troubling thoughts.  Cassie had been acting funny as
of late and had confided to Sheba that she had not
been sleeping well.  Starbuck had also been on edge
lately, which Sheba had attributed to possibly Cassie
and her edginess or Apollo’s confidences to his friend
about his dreams.  Sheba was unsure and had not
concrete evidence about anything at this point, but
she was almost 100 percent certain that the dreams
were at the bottom of everyone’s feelings of edginess
and uncertainty.  
	Sheba looked around her at the paintings that were on
the walls, trying to figure out what they meant, what
they were symbolizing.  The faces of the figures
seemed to almost come to life on the stone walls, but
Sheba knew that was impossible.  They were nothing
more than paintings, depictions of what life must have
been like on this planet all those yahrens ago.  But
they were haunting her with their imagery, with their
symbolism.  They were the handiwork of beings long
dead.  A shiver went through Sheba at the thought.  
	"Sheba," a voice whispered, intruding on her dark
thoughts.
	Sheba turned her attention back to the figure of
Apollo lying on the floor.  She quickly moved over to
Apollo’s side, her hand reaching for the cloth that
rested in the cool water from Starbuck’s canteen.  She
could see the fever still raged within him, his pale
face covered with sweat, his dark hair made even
darker with perspiration.  Carefully she stroked his
face with the cool cloth, wishing that she could bring
his fever down or that it would finally break.  
	Quietly Apollo sighed and said again, ever so softly,
"Sheba."
	Sheba felt the tears that she had been warring with
since this all began, build and threaten to roll down
her cheeks.  She leaned down close to his ear and
whispered "I’m right here, Apollo."
	"Sheba, don’t leave me."  Apollo whispered.  Sheba
watched as he furrowed his brow as he laid there.  She
wished she knew what was going on in his mind right at
that moment, what his fever filled mind was seeing.
	"I’m right here, Apollo.  I’m not going anywhere." 
Sheba tried to reassure him as she reached up and
stroked his damp hair.  
	"Sheba, I love you.  Don’t leave me." Apollo pleaded,
his eyes closed but his voice strained..  "Just don’t
leave me."
	Sheba lost the war with her tears as they flowed
freely down her cheeks.  "I’m not leaving you, Apollo.
 I love you and I am never going to leave you.  I
promise."  
	Apollo seemed to hear her as he softly sighed and
seemed to relax somewhat.  Sheba quietly stroked his
hair for a short time, reassuring herself that he was
resting as comfortably as he could.  She leaned down
and kissed him gently on the cheek.  Weariness washed
over her as she sat down at his side, leaning against
to coolness of the stone wall, her mind and her
emotions in turmoil.  
	Where were the others?  Where was the Galactica and
the fleet?  What was happening here?  Sheba grappled
with the fear of losing Apollo as she tried to keep
her wits about her.  The situation was grave.  She
knew that.  People were gone.  Just disappeared
without a single trace.  Where was base camp?  Where
did everyone go?  From everything they had seen, it
looked as though they had never even been here.  Sheba
fought against the despair she felt at the possible
loss of her friends, people she had come to respect
and admire and had come to love like family.  
	Sheba needed that sense of family and order in her
life.  When she had came aboard the Galactica, she had
left behind a man that she loved and adored, who had
adored her in return.  Her father.  Cain.  A forceful
man.   A man who knew what he wanted and moved heaven
and hell to get it.  A stubborn and determined man. 
Her father never knew the words ‘run’ or ‘defeat.’  
He had not agreed with Adama’s tactics in handling the
Cylons and he refused to follow Adama’s leadership. 
Sheba knew that her father highly respected the man
who was more to Cain than his superior officer.  He
had been friends with Adama at the Academy.  They had
been close friends for yahrens.  
	Sheba had never actually met the man that her father
had talked about since she was a child.  She had never
met Adama face to face, and when she had been left
aboard the Galactica after her father had evacuated
her to the Galactica, she had also not agreed with
Adama’s cautious tactics.  She had been raised,
trained and served under her father’s leadership.  She
had been so positive that her father’s methods were
right and Adama’s were wrong.  That had been the cause
of many a confrontation with Apollo, but they were the
children of two commanders who styles of leadership
were vastly different.  
	But she came to fully understand the wisdom of
Adama’s leadership in time.  Then she came to admire
the man who was now her commander almost as much as
she admired her own father.  Sheba saw what made his
patience a better tactic for the fleet, guaranteeing
it’s continued survival.  She understood why they were
on the ‘run,’ when in truth, they were not running,
just picking and choosing their battles.  
	Now, they were involved in a battle not of their
choosing.  What had happened to everyone?  Where was
Cassie and Boomer?  Boxey?  Colonel Tigh?  Bojay? 
Where was everyone?  And who or what was doing all of
this to them?  Who had shot Apollo?
	Sheba leaned her head back in weariness.  All
questions, but no answers.  All she really knew was
that the Galactica, the fleet, their friends and
family were gone.  Apollo laid on the dirty floor of
this place, shot by unknown entities with unknown
weapons, and could easily die without medical
attention.  Why didn’t they leave when they had the
chance?  Why didn’t she listen to Apollo?  Why? 
Because she was too caught up in trying to exorcise a
ghost from Apollo’s past.  The woman she felt that she
was in competition with because Apollo had loved her
so much and because of the tragic way that she died. 
Serina.  
	Sheba felt her eyes grow heavy as she fought to stay
awake.  A scent was in the air, a sickeningly sweet
scent, like a perfume, but it was different.  Sheba
felt as though she was drifting, floating, rising
above all her worries and cares.  She felt free and
light as a feather.  Floating higher and higher into
the heavens……..
	Suddenly, her eyes opened with a start as Sheba found
herself standing  in the middle of a large open
building.  The sun was streaming through the open
areas with blinding brightness although the stone
pillars cast their shadows on the stones that made up
the floor of the building.  She felt the oppressive
heat that signified that it was almost afternoon on
the planet.  The only relief she felt from the heat
was the breeze that gusted and then gently blew
against her face. 
	She felt the particles of sand brush against her legs
and looked down to find herself dressed in a very
strange, but beautiful dress.  Reaching to the floor,
the dress parted as the wind blew to expose her legs
to the sand.  Her arms were bare and the dress gently
draped itself over her shoulders, gathering itself at
her waist.  It was a beautiful color of dark rich blue
and made of the softest of materials that Sheba had
ever had the pleasure of wearing.  The dress made her
feel elegantly feminine.  But where had it came from? 
 And where was she?
	Sheba heard a sound and realized that she was not
alone.  Moving cautiously towards the sound, she
automatically reached for the laser that was usually
at her side.  All she grasped was empty air.  She
muttered a quiet epitaph, then proceeded in the
direction which the sound emanated.  Wishing that she
knew where she was so that she could formulate what to
expect, she cautiously placed her hand against one of
the rough stone pillars and tentatively glanced around
it.  
	She saw a slight lone figure move gracefully through
the courtyard, her identity obscured by the massive
stone pillars, with the exception of the long dark
hair and the long red dress that Sheba could see.  For
a micron, Sheba hoped against all hope that this was
Athena.  If it was, it would tell her that Apollo,
Starbuck, and the Commander were close by and that
Sheba had nothing to fear.  But her logical mind was
telling her that this was not Athena, that Apollo,
Starbuck and the Commander were not close at hand and
that Sheba had a great deal to fear.  
	Sheba watched, fighting the thoughts that threatened
to intrude on her conciousness, thoughts of where she
was and how she got here.  Where were the Commander,
Starbuck and Athena?  And where was Apollo?  Was he
being taken care of?  Was he even still alive?  Sheba
knew that if she were to dwell on these thoughts that
her worry would overwhelm her and make her useless. 
She had to survive.  She had to find her way back from
this place.  She remembered being at Apollo’s side,
reassuring him of her presence.  Now, she was here. 
Wherever _here_ was.
	She watched as the woman walked over to a doorway,
pausing for a micron, then entering the darkness
within.  Sheba felt her curiosity reach new levels as
she thought for a micron that she caught a fleeting
glimpse of the woman’s face and that for some reason,
she thought she might possibly know the woman.  She
waited a few centons, then moved towards the doorway
that the woman entered, cautious for any surprises
that might lurk to catch her unawares.  As she reached
the doorway, Sheba felt the cool breeze from within
the structure gently caress her face.  Even though she
hesitated at that doorway briefly, she knew that she
would have to follow whoever this was into the
structure.  
	Sheba took a deep breath trying to settle the
fluttering in the pit of her stomach, then entered the
corridor, surprised to find the passage well lit by
flaming torches.  She knew that the woman had to have
followed this passage for it seemed to be the only one
to follow.  After about 5 centons, Sheba saw a bright
light appear ahead of her.  Carefully, she reached the
doorway from which the light emanated and looked
cautiously at what was ahead of her.  
	To Sheba’s surprise, it was a large room, with
sunlight streaming in from a skylight above.  Unlike
the ruins that Sheba had seen since she arrived on
this planet, this room was clean and tidy.  There was
mo sandy debris, nor was there anything that seemed
out of place.  Ahead of her, though, was a large stone
altar.  Made of an ebony-colored rock that seemed to
be polished until it gleamed, the large altar stood at
the far end of the room.  It looked to Sheba as though
there was something on top of it, but she couldn’t
make out what it was.
	As Sheba wondered if she should move into the room,
she saw the woman, her long brown hair cascading down
her back.  She walked silently and stood before an
obelisk that stood alone in the room, not that far
away from the doorway that sheltered Sheba, who was
watching in mute fascination.  The woman knelt down,
then hung her head as though she was paying her
respects to the small obelisk.  Then the woman rose
her head and stared at the tall stone for several
centons before she finally rose to her feet once
again.  She continued to stand there silently as Sheba
studied her intently.  There was something about this
woman that was just so familiar to her.  Sheba just
couldn’t place her finger on where she had seen or met
this person before.
	"Welcome to the Temple of the Sacred Power,"  the
woman said commandingly, not in the least bit
welcomingly.  Sheba was startled by the woman’s voice
and quickly hid herself in the passageway, her back to
the wall.  She heard the woman sigh as she continued. 
"You can come into the Sacred Chamber.  I know that
you are there.  I can feel your presence so it is
useless to try and hide from me."  Sheba accepted the
ring of truth to the woman’s statement, then pulled
herself away from the wall.  She cautiously peeked
around the corner at the woman’s back that was still
to her.  "Please come in and join me,"  the woman
paused, then turned to look directly at Sheba. 
"…Sheba."
	Sheba gasped in shock and recognition of the woman
who stood in front of her.  But that was impossible. 
This woman was dead.  Very dead.  But there she was. 
Alive.   Serina....
	Sheba stepped into the chamber and looked directly at
the woman of her own nightmares.  The woman who she
felt held such a hold on Apollo’s heart that in the
early days of their relationship, she had doubted that
he would ever break free from his mourning of her. 
But he had in time.  And Serina was a subject that
neither Apollo or Sheba had really sat down and spoke
about in the past 3 yahrens.  Even when they were
friends, Serina was a sore point between them.  A
subject that Apollo was unwilling to discuss.  
	"You’re shocked to see me."  Serina said as she
looked Sheba over, her face seemed almost smug to
Sheba.  And for the life of her, Sheba was unsure why.
 "What’s wrong, Sheba?  Feline got your tongue?  You
can’t speak to me anymore?"
	Sheba’s eyes grew cold as she looked at the beautiful
woman in front of her.  "I can speak just fine,
Serina.  As for the fact that I am shocked to see you,
what reaction did you think I would have?  You have
been dead for almost 4 yahrens."
	Serina laughed.  Her laughter echoed through the
chamber as she turned her attention to the altar then
back to Sheba.  "Dead?  Dead?  Why does everybody
think I am dead?  Here I am, standing before you.  Do
I look dead to you?"
	"No."  Sheba said coldly.
	"You probably _wish_ I was dead, Sheba.  Then you
could have my husband all to yourself."  Serina walked
over and stood in front of Sheba, her eyes cold and
hard as she looked intently at Sheba.  "That’s what
you want and you know it.  For me to be dead so that
you can have Apollo all to yourself.  Well, I plan on
telling you here and now, you cannot have my husband,
Sheba.  He is mine.  Till death do us part.  Remember?
 He took the seal with ME!"  Serina shouted at Sheba. 
Serina’s angry, hateful expression nearly undid Sheba,
but she stood fast, not showing her own tumultuous
emotions.  
	"You were shot on Kobol, Serina.  You died on the
Galactica with Apollo at your side.  He mourned you
and he got over it."  Sheba kept her voice decidedly
cool as she tried to process what was happening here. 
She had never, ever met Serina.  How did this woman
know her name?  Just what in Hades was going on? 
Sheba fought to keep control.  She wanted to walk away
from this woman.  She wanted to get out of this place,
where ever she was.  Apollo was lying near death and
needed her.  She didn’t have time for this demented
nightmare.  
	"No."  Serina said as she took a step closer to
Sheba, who firmly stood her ground and did not back
away.  "You and my husband, your lover, plotted to get
rid of me so that the two of you could continue your
illicit affair that you had been having for yahrens. 
I knew that you two had been together before Apollo
and I married, but he assured me that you were in his
past and that I was his future and I alone.  I should
have known better though.  I was warned not to get
involved with Apollo.  That he was nothing more than
an calculating, lying opportunist."
	"That’s not true!"  Sheba shouted heatedly, rising to
Apollo’s defense as she lost her thin hold on her
temper.  Why was this woman saying these things? 
Apollo?  An opportunist?  That sounded almost like a
description of someone else.  Starbuck didn’t even fit
that description and it had been used on him.  "Apollo
would never..."
	"Never what, Sheba?"  Serina shot back.  "Never lie
to you?  Never take advantage of me or anyone else?" 
Serina smirked.  "You are such a fool.  Such a naive
little fool.  Apollo had nothing without me, and he
was nothing.  I had it all.  Fame.  Money.  Social
position.  What did Apollo have?   Oh yes, the son of
the great Commander Adama of Caprica.  Apollo played
the part so well.  He even had me believing him for a
while, but as luck would have it, I caught on.  I
figured it out.  Not before the sealing unfortunately,
but I figured it out."
	Sheba shook her head, confused at what Serina was
saying.  This was not what she had heard from anyone
about Apollo and Serina’s relationship.  She had heard
versions from many different people, but one thing
seemed to be consistent – not many people were sure of
the durability of the relationship because of the
swiftness of it.  Several, including Apollo’s own
sister, doubted the fact that the marriage would have
survived for very long because it was commonly felt
that they were both rushing into a situation because
of an immense shock to each of their emotional
well-beings.  Athena had voiced her opinion to Sheba
one night that she felt that Serina had manipulated
Apollo for her own end.  What that end was Athena did
not know and now no one would know for the woman was
dead.  
	As Sheba looked Serina over carefully, she had to
admit to herself that the Caprican newswoman was a
very lovely woman.  She had a delicate quality about
her that most men liked in a woman.  She was the type
of woman that Sheba herself wished that she was or
could be.  But she guessed that maybe that was all an
illusion of Serina’s that she played to the public. 
Her looks had opened the doors for her, but it was her
drive and determination that got her there  Now Sheba
faced a dilemma, facing the woman in front of her. 
Was this the real Serina that she was seeing or was
she trapped in some place and time where people were
different than they were known to be?
	Sheba knew that she had never met Serina.  Had seen
her on the vid many times, but had never had any
occasion to meet the woman face to face.  Now here
Serina was.  Claiming that Sheba and Apollo had been
involved in an affair for yahrens!.  Sheba had known
of Apollo, seen him in passing at many of the military
events that they had been forced to attend with their
parents as children, but Sheba and Apollo had never
really spoken maybe more than 5 words to each other in
their lives before Gammoray! 
	Sheba knew she had to figure out just what was
happening here, but as she struggled to make some
sensible order of her thoughts, Serina dramatically
turned and walked away from her.  Sheba was puzzled by
what was happening, but was unsure what to do.  And
where she was for that matter. 
	"You have to do something about her."  A voice said
quietly behind her.  Sheba turned and was shocked to
see a slender, dark haired woman standing there in the
doorway.  The dark eyes that looked at her glittered
with life and with something akin to anger.  Eyes and
features that were as familiar to Sheba as her own. 
Moira.  Her best friend for yahrens, since childhood. 
But that was impossible.  Moira was assumed killed
when the cylons attacked the colonies.  And this Moira
that stood at her side was different than her friend
of so many yahrens.  Gone was the uniform that she
wore a medical researcher on Gemoni.  Instead she was
clothed in a dress that Sheba could only say looked
like one worn by a socialator.  In fact, it looked
like it resembled a dress that Cassie had in the
closet of her quarters on the Galactica.  A bright red
dress, very revealing, with Moira’s fair arms bare. 
The material draped and fell over her legs, parting
seductively as she moved.  Sheba had seen that type of
dress on many other women in the socialator
profession.  Revealing, seductive, a dress meant to
entice men to spend time in her company --  for a
price.  
	But Sheba knew that Moira had never been a
socialator.  Oh yes, when they had both as teenagers
seen the women on the streets of Gemoni, in front of
their temples, both teenage girls had wondered what it
would be like to dress like that, sensual and sexy. 
Have men give them anything just so long as they could
spend some time with them.  Being a socialator was an
honorable profession on Gemoni, but it had been one
that her mother had never approved of.  But to Sheba
and Moira, the women had always looked so beautiful. 
They had watched as those women also served on
volunteer committees and did many good works for the
people of Gemoni.  Sheba had learned from Cassie that
a socialator went through a lengthy and arduous
schooling period to become a member of their
profession.  That being intimate with any of their
patrons was an option, not a requirement.  
	But what puzzled Sheba was why was Moira standing
here in an outfit that designated her as a socialator?
 How did she come to be here at all?  She was dead. 
Sheba had searched fleet records for her friend when
her father’s ship had met up with the fleet.  There
had been no record of Moira being within the fleet. 
Nothing.  Even though Sheba did not fully trust the
fleet personnel computer because of the confusion that
had ensued after the destruction, she could be almost
positive that if her friend was still alive and within
the fleet that she would have been serving in some
capacity in her field.  Her friend was studying long
and hard to become a medical reasearcher.  Studying
yahrens to become a physician, then internship for 3
yahrens, then to be accepted in another internship in
her chosen field of research.  Nothing was making
sense.  This was like a badly written Sagittarian
farce.  Nothing was as it should be or as it was.  
	Moira moved forward and lightly stepped down to stand
in front of Sheba.  "You have to do something about
her," she repeated.  "You can’t let her get away with
the lies that she is saying to you."
	Sheba looked at Moira in confusion.  "What lies? 
That woman I just spoke to is dead and she’s been dead
for almost 4 yahrens.  Just what is going on here,
Moira?"
	Moira looked at her, an amazed look on her face. 
"Dead?  Serina?  I don’t think that woman knows how to
die.  All she wants is for Apollo to live to worship
her, to be totally devoted to her.  And for what?  She
has her own agenda for her life.  Apollo just happened
along when things were not going her way.  She’s
nothing but a user, Sheba."
	"Apollo loved her.  He married her."  Sheba stated
flatly absently wondering how Moira knew Apollo.  
	Moira snorted unladylike as she turned to face her
friend, her voice scornful.  "Only after she pushed
him into it.  Only after Starbuck disappeared and
Apollo was so racked with guilt and grief that he
would have agreed to anything at that moment in time. 
She made him prove his love to her by marrying her
right then and there.  Starbuck had his suspicions
about her, but would not voice them to Apollo."
	"Why?"  Sheba looked over at her friend, curiously.
	"Because Apollo was blinded by Serina’s charms.  She
knew what she wanted and she knew how to use what she
had to get what she wanted.  She married into a family
with much respect, history and power.  In my opinion
she used Apollo.  But what for, I can only speculate."
	"How do you know Serina, Moira?  As far as I know,
you never knew this woman."
	"Oh, I knew her, Sheba and I wish to heaven I had
never met her now."
	Sheba shook her head in her growing confusion.  "I
just don’t understand any of this.  Where are we,
Moira?  What is happening here?  This can’t be real. 
None of this can be real.  Serina is dead and has been
dead for a while now."
	Moira looked at her with a dubious frown.  "Why are
*you* asking all these questions?  You _know_ where we
are.  We’re on Kobol.  We’ve been stuck here for
yahrens."
	Sheba’s eyes widened at the news that Cassie told
her.  "What?!  That’s impossible.  I didn’t come on
board till after Kobol."
	"Sheba, what in hades is wrong with _you_?"  Moira
looked at her, a frown on her face.  "You were on
Gemoni when the Holocaust happened, escaping to the
safety of the Galactica when we left the colonies. 
But then where else would Apollo have you, but on the
battlestar with him."
	"What do you mean by that?"  Sheba felt like she was
losing her mind.  All of what Moira was telling her
was opposite of what she knew was right.  What she
knew was true.  
	"Come on now, Sheba.  You and Apollo have been lovers
since you met over 10 yahrens ago and we all know that
the only reason that you two have never sealed is
because of the scandal that ruined your father’s
career and reputation.  As much as Apollo has desired
to seal with you, he knew that he couldn’t and still
keep his career in the military.  Even the power and
reputation of Commander Adama could not overcome what
ruined Cain."
	Sheba stood there in mute silence trying to grasp
what Moira had just told her.  None of this ever
happened!!  Her father was the greatest of the
warriors of the colonies.  He was the Commander of the
Pegasus, exploring the deep reaches of space and in
his own way, protecting the fleet while it journeyed
for Earth.  Her father?  Ruined?  Scandalized?  This
was not really happening to her!
	None of what she was saying ever happened!  Yes, she
knew of Apollo, in fact how could she not seeing who
his father was.  She had possibly seen him at military
functions, had been forced to interact with him
socially as well as his siblings, the same as any of
the other sons and daughters of the military brass. 
It had been expected of her.  But never had she and
Apollo been involved in any way, besides a purely
antagonist involvement, before she came aboard the
Galactica.  She was 2 yahrens behind Starbuck and
Apollo at the academy even.  She never got to see
Apollo even then except for assemblies, ceremonies,
social events or the like.  They had passed each other
their whole lives like ships passing through the
stars.  Sheba was jolted out of her remembrances by
Moira’s voice and its tone of disdain.  
	"Then Serina came along, and with Adama pushing for
Apollo to marry and have an heir, well let’s just say
the marriage was very beneficial for Serina.  Of
course that woman is so stuck on herself and her own
status, that she claims it is her who is making
Apollo.  The bitch!"  Hatred dripped from Moira’s tone
and words.  Scorn for the dark-haired woman was
written all over her features.  "I wish she had died 4
yahrens ago.  After everything she’s done to Starbuck
and to Boomer, and of course we won’t even mention
Apollo, she deserves to die."
	Thoughts of Boxey ran across Sheba’s tormented and
confused mind.  "What….what about Boxey?"
	"Boxey?"
	"Yes, Serina’s son."
	A strange expression came over Moira’s face then she
burst out laughing.  "Serina?  A son?  Now that’s
rich, Sheba.  Really, really rich!  Serina HATES kids.
 To get Apollo to the altar she said otherwise, but as
soon as they were sealed, uh-uh, no way.  No kids. 
She outright hates kids besides the fact that she had
surgery many yahrens ago to guarantee that she will
never be bothered with a child or the way her body
would change to have one."  Moira tried to rid her
face of her mirth at what Sheba said, but was finding
it hard to do.  "You should have heard Adama when
Apollo told him that there would be no children by
Serina.  That went over real well."
	Sheba turned her attention back to Serina as the
Caprican woman slowly slaundered over to where Sheba
and Moira stood.  Sheba didn’t like the smug
expression on the woman’s face and wished that she
could wipe it off of there.  She just had to keep
reminding herself that this was not real.  It couldn’t
be real.  None of her own memories reflected anything
of what Moira had told her about the current
happenings.  Her father was not a ruined man, a man
who had been disgraced.  She was not having a long
term affair with Apollo behind his wife’s back for  
Serina had died before the Pegasus ever encountered
the fleet and that very real fact could not be changed
by the situation as it now presented itself.    
	All of this was not real and that was what she just
had to keep repeating to herself.  This was not real,
but it seemed so real.  Everything that was happening
seemed just so real, but Sheba knew that she could not
be drawn into the seductive reality that it presented.
 A different one than she was facing right now, with
Apollo lying back there on the floor of the building
that they were in, possibly dying from the wounds that
he suffered at the hands of unknown entities.  How she
got here she did not know and how she could escape
from this place, she also did not know.  Someone or
something was at the root of everything that was.
	Sheba looked over at the image of her long dead
friend, a woman who had stood beside her during some
of the most trying times in her life.  Suddenly, Sheba
felt as though a fog was lifting.  The fear and
confusion that she had felt only moments before seemed
to melt away faster than the Arian snows in the heat
of the summer sun.  Suddenly things started to seem
clearer to her – questions that seemed to be
unanswerable seemed answerable to Sheba.
	Sheba smiled to herself as she watched the image of
Serina stop in front of her.  Oh, yes, now everything
was _quite_  clear.       

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