nd even
allowed him to step up the process of selling Carillon tylium on the black
market.
	But now, Baltar had need of even more.  As the plans got deeper and deeper
with the Cylons, Baltar became more and more convinced that he would
actually be able to come out not only alive, but quite possibly in complete
control of the Colonies after the Cylons eliminated their hated enemy, the
Council of the Twelve.
	But he would need to greatly expand his resources if he was expected to
carry out his end of the bargain with the Cylon Imperious Leader.  This was
where todays meeting came in.
	In the adjoining conference room sat several heads of various branches of
the Colonial organized crime operations.  Together, they represented, to
varying degrees, power in each of the twelve worlds, as well as space
lanes, no-questions-asked supply contacts, and even a few minor members of
the government.  Baltar could not prove it, but he would not have been
surprised in the least to find out that at least one of1

     The cross hairs of the laser sniper settled.  The image came into view.
     I can do it.  I can stop him.
     He eased his finger onto the trigger, but could not bring himself to
activate the weapon. He knew the orders, and was bound by an oath that
forced him to obey them.
     They're wrong.  He must be stopped.
     The last yahren had been spent leading up to this micron.  Do it, or
everything was for nothing.  With a quick pull of the trigger, he could
change everything.
     As he continued to watch, a second figure came into view: long,
flowing robes, the blood-red of Cylon Imperial hierarchy.
     The time is now.  Drop him, then take out that monster.  Two shots, I
can do it.
     He felt a hand on his shoulder.  He rolled, expecting Colonel Howell
to snatch the weapon from his grasp.  But instead, it was a Caprican
civilian, burned beyond recognition.
     "Why didn't you stop them?"
     He turned back to the sniper laser, but the image had changed.  The
moment was los them had a member
of the actual Council in his pocket.
	"Where is he?  Doesn't he know the importance of this meeting?" Baltar
muttered.
	Baltar checked his chronometer for the second time that centon.
	Finally, he heard the footsteps approaching, as the automatic door slid
open to admit Karibdis to the chamber.
	"Did you get it?  Where have you been?  I almost had to start this without
this information!"  Baltar nearly sputtered.
	Karibdis nodded his head, and held a data chip in his palm for Baltar to
see.  Baltar smiled, as the pair moved to enter the conference chamber.

	"Gentlemen.  You are all anxious to get this moving along, I suspect.  It
is good to see you all here, and I sincerely hope that our goals and plans
together may be profitable to us all."
	"You want to stop the felgercarb, Baltar?  I want to know what this is
about.  The way I see it, you have no right to call a council of us,
especially since I believe you were the one, not Winstell, who killed
Pacino!" The speaker wat.
     The air was filled with wave after wave of Cylon fighter-bombers,
unloading megons of ordnance into the unprotected city.  People ran all
around, desperately trying to find a safe place, any safe place, where they
could escape.  Many died in the streets, most not even realizing the
tragedy of it all.
     Glass exploded, showering the street with shards.  A man looked up,
raised his hands to protect his face from the deadly falling missiles.  He
avoided any major cuts from the glass, only to have the building's remains
bury him.  He was probably dead, long before the last piece toppled onto
the pile.
     No!  This should not be happening!  I should have stopped it!
     A bomb exploded off to his right, the shock wave slamming him back
into the ground.  The sound had nearly deafened him, leaving a loud ringing
in his ears.  He pushed himself back up, trying to get back on his feet.
He could barely hear the words as they drifted to him.
     "And what are the standing orders for humanss Cirillo, whose friendship with Pacino had dated
back to the Colonial Service.
	Baltar ignored the taunt, choosing instead to begin his semi-rehearsed
presentation to the council of crime figures.
	"As you all are aware, I have recently uncovered as-yet unexploited
sources of tylium.  Many of you here have utilized this source for your own
needs.  What you do not know, is that my association with those who help me
acquire this fuel has opened to all of us an even greater opportunity."
Baltar paused, and surveyed the group.  He was pleased to see that he had
already gotten their attention, and they would at least hear him out.
	"As you are also aware, my brothers, I have been approached by the Cylons
to help bring a peace treaty between us humans and the Cylons.  They feel,
like many of our own people do, that the war has gone on too long and cost
too much on both sides.
	"What is not known, however, is that the proposed treaty is not entirely
what it appears."  This caused a bit of commotion,  from your Imperious Leader?"
     "Extermination."
     "Then carry out your orders!"
     "NOOOO!"
     Cutler woke up with a barely stifled scream.  His body was shaking,
sweat drenched his sheets.  Raleigh had woken up several microns
previously, and was beside Cutler's rack, gently shaking him.
     "Cut, wake up, it's OK," he said quietly.  "It's over."
     Cutler shook his head.  "No, it will never be over."
     "Same one?"  Raliegh asked.  Cutler had told him of this nightmare
before.
     "Of course," Cutler replied disgustedly.  "What other one is there?"
     Raliegh didn't know what to say to that one.  "All I know is this: The
reasons we are here, in this fleet, searching for a myth, all of us
homeless, is MY fault."

     The next day, the dreams were pushed to the back of everyone's mind.
Everyone in the Colonial Service had them, but everyone also knew that they
could not interfere with their duties.  There was simply no one else to do
the job of defending the last of humaand Baltar could feel
the tension grow.
	"The Cylons goal is indeed peaceful coexistence with us.  But in order to
achieve that peace, the present warmongering representatives to the Council
of the Twelve must be eliminated."
	"This is an outrage!" shouted Cirillo.  "You speak of profits, and wish to
include us in your schemes.  What have the Cylons promised you for your
treason?"
	Cirillo rose from his chair, and turned to leave the chamber.  He was
quickly flanked by Baltar's own armed guards, and escorted at gunpoint to
an armored room Baltar had arranged for such purposes.
	"Uberto," Baltar spoke to Cirillo's second-in-command.  "May I assume by
this action that you are now free to speak for Cirillo's interests and
forces?"
	"Yes, Baltar."
	Baltar was pleased with himself for having the forsight to contact Uberto
before the gathering, suspecting strong reactions from Cirillo.  A quick
explaination of the opportunity at stake, and a large number of cubits, had
quickly convinced Uberto to nity.
     Cutler pushed the last cobwebs of drowsiness from his mind with a
second cup of caffe from the Warriors mess.  He consulted his chronometer,
refilled his mug, and left the mess.
     It was a routine day, at least as routine as it could be under the
circumstances.  Cutler went through the normal routine of filling out the
munitions and Operational Status reports on the Galactica's laser turrets,
then moved on to turret 2 to complete his maintainance tasks for the day.
     Working the in Turrets had come almost naturally to the 8th Colonial
Assualt Team, also known as the Mud Daggits.  They had been the best of the
best, pulling off impossible infiltration, intelligence, and sabotage
missions against the Cylons.  Time after time, they had pulled various
President's of the Council's astrums from the political fires when military
decisions had accounted for much of the Council's policy.
     When the Cylons destroyed the Colonies, Cutler and the Mud Daggits had
found themselves on boarside with him against his own boss.  He also
had similar arrangements with a few others in the room, in case his
proposal evoked more unfortunate feelings.
	"When the Cylon plans come to fruition, they will effectively eliminate
the current governing body of the Colonies.  This is the extent of their
plans, and providing that we ourselves make no hostile moves against the
Imperious Leader once we assume the leadership, the Cylons will leave us be."
	It took several centons for that statement to sink in.  As Baltar saw
realization come across the faces around him, he nodded, and continued.
	"Yes, my brothers, by my arrangement with the Imperious Leader, he will
leave me in charge once the Council is destroyed.  I wish to share my
fortunes with you, in exchange for a bit of help with the plan."
	"Do you expect us to believe, Baltar, that simple assassination of the
Council will fulfil the requirements of the Cylons, leaving us in charge,
and in possession of a large fleet of warships and Battlestad the Galactica, being evacuated with the
survivors.  After the initial flight from destruction, Personnel Department
had tried to break up the unit, and assign them to various mundane military
duties.  Colonel Howell, the Commanding Officer of the 8th, had appealed to
Colonel Tigh, listing the Mud Daggit's weapons and machinery knowledge,
convincing him to allow assignment working the laser turrets.  Howell had
won, and the 8th stayed together as a unit.
     During the mid-day break, Cutler found an empty chair, filled his mug
from the caffe dispenser in Turret Control, and stretched out to enjoy the
break.
     Zeta broke the silence.
     "Hey, you guys catch the Triad game last night?"  Zeta was a die-hard
triad fan, and bragged about getting tickets to the games on the Rising
Star whenever he could.
     "Saw some of it on the scanner," Cutler replied.
     "Yeah, they had it on the Officer's Club," Degeria agreed.
     "Some match, eh?"
     "Man," Cutler said, "Starbuck should have pors?"
	"No, Orazio, I do not.  I have not been given the final plan as of yet,
since it is still being finalized at the Cylon capital.  I do know,
however, that a good portion of the current fleet is also to be destroyed.
I have been assured that we will not be left entirely defenseless, but
neither will we have the ships necessary to conduct warfare with the Cylon
fleet."
	Baltar surveyed the room, finding some mixed reactions, but mostly finding
tenative agreement with the plan, at least in principle.  There was no love
lost between most of these people and the Colonial government, as
government Chief Opposers had tried to convict many of them on various
crimes.  Baltar decided to play on that opposition, to expand his own network.
	"Another problem that will be overcome is the planetary defenses in orbit
and at ground facilities throughout the Colonies.  There can be expected
heavy heavy resistance once the removal of the government has begun.
	"To assist the Cylons in neutralizing this threaunded Ortega's head into
the deck plates. 
That sorry goof had it coming."
     "Don't say that," Raliegh said softly.
     "Well, he probably did," Zeta said.  "But I don't think he deserved to
die."
     Cutler looked dumbfounded.  "What?"
     "Someone killed him, right after he got ejected from the game."
     "No?" Cutler couldn't believe it.  "No one has been killed like that
for....hades, since we left the Colonies."
     "Oh, yes.  Guess who they got for it?"
     Cutler shrugged, since he barely knew Ortega in the first place, let
alone know who would want to kill him.
     "Starbuck."  Zeta nodded.  "Some dude saw him running away from the
locker area, and found Ortega shot, his own laser was drawn.  Captain
Apollo checked Starbuck's laser, and it had been fired.  Right afterward, a
laseronic ergon scan performed by Dr. Wilker proved it was Starbuck's laser
that terminated Ortega."
     "I don't believe it," Cutler said.  "I know Starbuck, he might be
hotheaded at times, but no wat, the defensive systems
must be disrupted.  This would allow the Cylon warships to move in and,
with surgical precision, remove the infrastructure of the currupt Council,
with a minimal loss of human life.  To bring this about, I introduce my
associate, whom you may address as Proteus."  Baltar turned to Karibdis.
	Karibdis stood, and held out the data chip in his hand.
	"My friends, I have here the main machine coding which the defensive
systems computers operate from.  Myself, and my team of programmers are in
the process of decompiling the data, and working on ways of reprogramming
it to shut itself down at the specified time, or more preferably, with a
specific signal from ourselves.  The goal is to render the orbital weapons
platforms useless, and to drastically delay the launching of defensive
fighters from the ground bases.  With the proper timing, the Cylons can
move in, accomplish their goal, and move out before the Colonial forces can
resist."
	"And we are to be left in charge when ty would he kill someone, over a triad game,
for Sagan's sake."
     "Well, I guess we will find out at the Tribunal."  Raliegh consulted
his chronometer.  "Tribunal convenes in seven centaurs."

     Cutler paid for his mug of baharii, and returned to the table with
Degeria, Zeta, and
Raliegh.  Siree had the overnight watch in Turret Control. 
     All eyes were glued to the scanner, watching the pre-tribunal
coverage.  The Chief Opposer made his statement, giving as much information
as he could against the Warrior.
     "And it would appear to this reporter," Zara concluded, "that the
brilliant career of Lt. Starbuck has come to a sudden, tragic end."  The
IFB logo flashed on the screen, followed by announcements of fleet position
and heading.
     "I still don't buy it," Cutler said.
     "Who is Starbuck's protector?"  Degeria asked.
     "Apollo," replied Zeta.
     "Apollo?" Cutler was dumbfounded.  "What was that guy thinking?
Apollo is a real bright fellow, but as his protector....?"his 'surgically precise' strike is
completed?" asked Orazio, disbelief creeping into his voice.
	"In order to help convince you of the Cylons ultimate good intentions,"
Baltar resumed, " I have ordered my own ships to begin docking at your own
facilities.  Their purpose is to supply you with all the tylium you need.
This fuel is mined at a remote outpost, under the control of the Cylons."
	The meeting broke up nearly two centuars later.  Baltar was left alone in
the meeting chamber.
	With a sigh, he realized that there was much work left to be done.  But
with the assistance of those who had just left, he knew that he was that
much closer.
	But just right now, there was one loose end left to be tied.

	Baltar entered the room where his guards had taken Cirillo.
	"I suppose now you intend to kill me?" Cirillo asked.
	"No.  I have no wish stain my hands with your blood," Baltar replied.
	"If you carry out your plan, the blood of the Colonies will be on your
head!" Cirillo spat.
	"Don't you see,
     Degeria shrugged.  "Hope he can get him off."
     Cutler's attention was drawn to a table to his right.  A couple of
warriors from Silver Spar Squadron were also discussing the news, and
coming up with their own theories.
     "I knew that clown couldn't last forever," one pilot remarked.
     "Maybe they should just jettison him down the launch tubes after the
tribunal.  Undiciplined lout," said one somewhat loudly, and Cutler
recognized the
speaker as Davis.
     Cutler stood, and Degeria tried to pull him back into his seat.  He
shook off her hand, and covered the distance between the tables in about
three steps.
     "Hey, Davis," Cutler said softly.
     "Yeah, Mud Wallower, what's on your mind?" Davis made no attempt to
hide his opinion about the 8th.
     "I really don't think that last statement was called for.  You are not
the tribunal, and you don't have the facts."
     "I fly with the idiot.  Gambler, boozer, and leech are not skills that
lend to great fly---"
     Davis sir, the futility of maintaining that line of thinking?
You believe the Cylons are evil, and you would continue the fight.  Your
children will see you die in the fighting, and they will vow revenge,
believing that they must avenge your death.  As will their children, and
their children's children.  The cycle must be broken."
	"Have you ever fought the Cylons?  Have you seen what they do?"
	"No, I cannot claim that honor.  I have spoken to the Imperious Leader on
several occasions, and I find him to be an insightful, intelligent being.
He has seen beyond the death and the killing, to a brighter future for all
of us."
	"A brighter future, with the humans as subjects of the Empire!"
	"And, my friend, that is the very prejudice that the Leader wishes to end,
so that this war will stop perpetuating itself generation after
generation."  Baltar paused.  "I have no wish to downplay your own heroic
record, or the record of the Warriors.  Thier efforts have probably saved
many lives.  But look at the co never completed the sentence, as Culter swung and connected with
his jaw.  Davis went flying out of his seat, sprawling on the deck.
     His fellow pilots leaped up, ready to come to their partner's aid.
The Mud Daggits slowly rose to help Cutler if need be.
     "Anyone else have an opinion on Lt. Starbuck?"  Cutler growled.
     They saw his face, heard the ice  in Cutler's voice.  One raised his
hands, and they all backed away.  Two of them helped Davis off the deck,
still shaking his head, muttering curses.
     Suddenly, Davis stood straight, and leaped at Cutler.  Cutler dodged,
bringing his hand down on a pressure point on Davis' neck as he went past
him.  Davis again hit the deck, and didn't move.  Another member of Silver
Spar squadron tried to shake him, then put him in a chair.
     Bojay left his spot at the bar, and approached.  Cutler watched him
passively, convinced that he would have to take on the Lt. from Commander
Cain's battlestar.  Instead, Bojay simply patted Cutler on hist: the continuation of the war.  How many
of those lives that were saved were subsequently lost in future
engagements, in a war that neither side can win?"
	Cirillo was silent.
	"Sire, as I have said, I have no wish to kill you.  I cannot, however,
allow you to leave here.  You know too much, and that knowledge may
completely destroy my efforts.  You will be well cared for, but I must
insist that you remain here."  Baltar rose and turned to leave.  At the
door, he looked at the aging underworld boss.
	Cirillo held Baltar's gaze, and Baltar could see the defiance in his eyes.
	So many lives, thought Baltar, so many lives lost to maintain that
defiance.  Can we learn a better way?
	Baltar left the room.  Now more than ever, he was convinced that he, and
he alone, could lead his people effectively away from the destructive path
they had been on for nearly a thousand yahren.

20

	"Tisa, how many times do I have to tell you?  There are things I've seen
and heard that just make me question Balts shoulder.
     "Thanks, I was wondering how to knock that self-riteous idiot down a
peg or two," Bojay said softly, then moved to help carry an unconscious
Davis from the O-Club.
     Cutler drained his mug, and signalled Callahan the bartender for a
round for the table.

The next day, all eyes in the fleet were on their scanner.  Everyone
nervously sat through the opening statements, one, a well-worded damnation
of Starbuck by the Chief Opposer.  Boomer, acting as Protector Pro-tem,
stumbled through, speaking of set-up, and tried to touch on Starbuck's record.
     The Mud Daggits were crowded around in Turret Control, watching the
proceedings.  With every point made by the Chief Opposer, the group shook
their heads, picturing another nail in their friend's coffin.
     Nearing the end of the Tribunal, Cutler got a strange feeling.
     "You leave this Tribunal no choice but to make a decision--" Adama was
reluctantly saying.
     "Our defense is on Alpha Channel," Boomer nearly shouted.  ar's and the Cylon's motives!"
Cutler was tired of the same argument.  Every night they were disagreeing
on the Cylon Truce.  Tisa, as a civilian, refused to accept Cutler's point
of view.
	"Sure, you've listened to your warmongering superior officers.  Face it,
won't won't be happy unless you can keep killing things!  Of course, that's
all you know.  Just where would you and your wonderful Mud Daggits be
without Cylons to kill?"  Tisa was really laying it on thick, and Cutler
grimaced at the hatred she put into her voice.
	The problem was, Cutler realized, that Tisa had listened to all the peace
speeches, and seen some of the spirited debates on the informational
programs.  Everything she was telling him was a line-by-line repetition of
the arguements of the peace activists.
	Cutler held his own temper in check.  No need to add fuel to the flames,
anything he said would just make her madder.  He hated to fight with her
more than almost anything, so he decided to do the only thing that he
coul"By the
Lords of Kobol, LISTEN!"
     "The way you killed Ortega?" Apollo's voice was heard.
     "Killing Ortega was easy," said a voice that sent nightmarish shiver's
up Cutler's spine.  The rest of the 8th recognized the voice also.  "But
you, Captian,  have proved to be a much more dangerous opponent.  Baltar,
turn on the automatic pilot."
     "If you remove these shackles!" came another voice, and Cutler felt
his blood pressure rising.
     The sounds of a scuffle were heard through the scanner, and the sound
of a single laser shot followed.
     "Did the Tribunal hear that?" came Apollo's voice.
     "We got it!"  Boomer replied.
     The Mud Daggits cheered.

     Starbuck sat alone in the Officer's Club.  He finished his baharii,
and ordered another.  I can't believe this, he thought.  Two days ago, my
life was nearly finished. Then the whole fleet cheers for me as I go onto
the Triad court.  And to think, I didn't trust my best friends to defend
me, almost fired at Apollo in the ld: He left.
	After he picked up his jacket and keys, he turned toward her before
leaving the apartment.
	"For what it's worth, Tisa, I hope I'm wrong."

	The briefing room was silent after Colonel Howell's announcement of the
date of the Armistice signing.  Cutler had just been pulled from his comp
console, where he was desperately trying to deduce what possible strategy
or betrayal the Cylons might be holding in reserve.
	All five active battlestars would be escorting the entire Council of
Twelve to the Ceremony, and it was agreed between the Council and the
Cylons that the actual signing would take place on the Presidential yacht,
the Star Kobol.
	"Why all five battlestars?  What's wrong with just one, maybe two?"
Raliegh asked.
	"I'm told that it is a show of trust from the Cylons to us.  For us to
refuse it would be a show of mistrust from us toward the Cylons.  At least
so the President tells me."
	"At the prodding of Baltar, I'm sure," Cutler said softly.  "That would be
nearly devastaunch bay.
     He had made it a point to track down Sheba shortly afterwards.  His
close friendship with Apollo and Boomer allowed many words to remain
unspoken..  Sheba, however, he wasn't always on such friendly terms with.
     "Sheba," he had said, when he managed to corner her.  "I owe you an
apology."
     "You do?"  She asked.  "For what?"
     He had told her of his jailbreak, and his conversation with Apollo.
     "And when he asked if I would fire at you, I said I would, if I had
to.  I'm sorry."
     She had shrugged it off, saying something about stress, knowing he
didn't mean it.  Starbuck had accepted that, but still felt as if the words
had somehow made things a little more difficult.
     Starbuck let his mind drift through everything that had happened.  He
almost didn't see Cutler approach and pull up the next barstool.  Cutler
signalled Callahan, who set two more drinks in front of them.
     "Hey, there hero,"  Cutler said.  "Buy you a drink."

     "Thanks."  Starbuck fiing if they decided peace wasn't worth it.  Could they launch
enough firepower out there to kill off five battlestars?"
	"I'll bet they could," Degeria said.  "That would make it pretty hard to
defend the home worlds, let alone carry the war back the them.  At least
until we could repair a ship or two.  Could get hairy if we have to depend
solely on planetary defenses in the meantime."
	"So, when can we expect the reassignment?"  Cutler asked Colonel Howell
after the briefing.
	"You will report to the Atlantia in one secton, and check in with the head
of Council Security.  From there, you will most likely be assigned
according to their needs.  At least one Team member will be assigned to the
Presidential Detail at all times.  Probably have one of you rotating on and
off with other members of the Council."
	"Until then," Howell smiled, "consider yourselves on furlon.  See you in
one secton."

	Cutler switched off the scanner set disgustedly.  He was sick of seeing
the incessant debate on whethnished the first one, and started on the second.
 "I'm still not sure how all that happened so fast."
     "I know, it really does amaze you, doesn't it?"  Cutler said.  He knew
how Starbuck felt.  He too liked to be in control of any situation, be it
the battlefield, or in personal matters.
     "I only want to know one thing," Cutler started.  "Why the FRAK didn't
anyone ask me or the rest of us about Karibdis?"  Cutler nearly exploded
with the question.
     "Well, to be honest, I was in the brig the whole time," he said.
"And, I had no idea that Apollo had found the biggest traitor left alive
after Baltar."  Starbuck looked at Cutler.  "Besides, how the hades do YOU
know who Karibdis is?"
     "Kind of a long story," Cutler said.  He signalled Callahan.
"Callahan, give me two bottles of your best ambrosa.  Not that cheap
feglercarb, the good stuff from the back."  Callahan nodded, and
disappeared to the back.
     "Feel like a story?"  Cutler asked.  Starbuck shrugged, and agreed.
"Not heer the peace offer was genuine, and the
every-five-centon public opinion poll on the matter.  To hear them talk,
there really must be some sort of deep-rooted conspiracy set on derailing
the armistice before it ever happened.
	The real irony is, Cutler thought, is that if there IS a conspiracy, it's
the armistice itself!
	Cutler was restless on the third day of his furlon.  So far, he'd spent
some time with his family, and enjoyed sleeping late, but otherwise hadn't
done much.
	He realized that he'd been moping ever since the fight with Tisa.
	To hades with this felgercarb! He thought, I'm going out!
	He changed out of his lounge-around clothes, and called a hovertaxi.  He
decided not to drive himself, avoiding possible problem in case he tried to
drive altered.
	When he arrived at the Depositorie, he saw the club was a little more
crowded than normal for a workday night.  Since the announcement of the
time when the armistice was to go into effect, many people had taken on a
celebratory attitre, though.  Most of it I guess is still classified."  Callahan
returned, and Cutler laid a large pile of cubits on the bar.  He picked up
both bottles, and gave Starbuck a 'come here' gesture.
     Starbuck followed his friend from the Officer's club, and the pair
passed through the darkened passageways.  Even in space, they tried to
maintain some semblence of day and night, and set up lighting and duty
periods accordingly.
     They passed into a section of the warship that Starbuck was not very
familiar with, but knew it was one of the weapons mounts corridors.  They
stopped in front of a door labled "Turret 2: Authorized Personnel Only
Beyond This Point."
     Starbuck pointed to the sign as Cutler pulled a keycard from his
uniform.  Cutler grinned.
     "Humdy Dumbdy,  you are now Authorized Personnel!" he said with a
triangular hand motion.  The door slid open, and the pair entered.
     Cutler pointed to a comfortable looking chair, then reached behind a
console and pulled out two pilloude.  Many 'Welcome Peace' banners were hung, and people
were wearing appearal that also proclaimed the happy days that were surely
ahead.

	Cutler pushed his way through the crowd, and saw that all the tables were
full.  He ended up squeezing in at the bar, and had just ordered his drink
when the band opened up for their first set.
	For a couple of millocentons, he listened half-heartedly to the music,
sipping his drink almost absently.  It seemed every time he tried to bring
his mind back to the present, it would wander off into uncharted territory
once again.
	Cutler found himself standing beside the public comms units, cubits in
hand.  He stared at the device for nearly a centon, when he caught the
familiar smell, and felt a hand on his shoulder.    He turned around to see
Tisa standing beside him.
	"Hey," she said quietly.
	"I was, ahh, just about to call you," Cutler said hesistantly, indicating
the comm units he stood before.  She nodded.
	"I tried to catch you at home, but you weren'ws.  He tossed one to Starbuck, then pulled
up another chair.
     He opened the two bottles of ambrosa, and handed one to Starbuck.
"You want a glass?"
     Starbuck shook his head, and took a drink from the bottle.
     "Hey, good stuff.  How did you know that Callahan kept this stuff
stashed?  I didn't even know that."  Starbuck said.
     Cutler grinned, then leaned back in his chair.
     "Well, I promised you a story, eh?"  Starbuck nodded.  "Ok, like I
said, most of this stuff is probably still classified, but then again, who
knows.  Anyway, I still don't think it should become common knowledge."
     "OK," Starbuck agreed.
     "Well, it is like this: I want you to know right now, one thing.  I am
responsible for the Cylons Attack on the Colonies!"

2

     About two yahrens before the attack (Cutler explained), Count Baltar
had been employed by a Picsean underworld figure named Pacino.  Not too
much information was available on Pacino, only that he covered himself very
good.  Manyt there," she stated.
	"Yes," Cutler said.  "I decided to get out for bit."
	Tisa nodded, then turned and acted as though she was moving away.  Cutler
reached up and grabbed her right shoulder.
	"Hey, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have left that night.  I should have called
you earlier.."
	"Don't be sorry.  We just disagreed," she said solemnly.  "Everyone
disagrees about something."
	They returned to the main floor of the club, where they had a couple of
dances.  They tried to talk, but the noise of the band and the crowd made
conversation difficult at best.
	They left the club hand in hand, and walked down the street to a quiet
cafe, where they talked until the early centaurs of the morning.  When the
cafe closed for the cycle, they caught a taxi back to Cutler's place.
	"And, I'll be on the Atlantia, part of the security detail.  I'll be right
there when they sign the papers on the Star Kobol," Cutler said.  Normally,
Team and Fleet movements were classified; however, in this case, Inter
Colony  an investigation into his criminal activities had turned up
nothing, at least nothing worthy of a Tribunal.
     "Mister Pacino," Baltar said as he entered the room.  "I bring you
good news: we have
successfully captured the Cylon frieghter as planned."
     "Good," said the raspy voice of the underworld crime boss.  "Have you
contacted the other party?"
     "Our pilots are enroute to Hasarii space now with the frieghter.  I
just patched the transmission through to the leader of the Hasarii
resistance, and he is anxiously awaiting his weapons shipment."
     "Excellent," Pacino replied.  "This will bring us a large profit, as
well as cause some grief among the Cylon occupation forces on the Hasarii
homeworld."
     "Yes, it should," Baltar agreed.  He didn't much care one way or the
other about the Hasarii resistance, only about the fortune in cubits they
were collecting for their day's work.  He did, however, enjoy the feeling
of manipulating the strings of power, arranging for the Cylon weBroadcasting seemed to know more about where the Fleet was headed
and who would be there than even Cutler himself knew.  Also, a small part
of him wanted to impress into Tisa's mind that he had at least accepted the
idea of ending the war.
	"And then?  What happens after that?"  Tisa asked, still seeming uncertain.
	"Honestly, I don't know.  Nothing has been said about what happens at all.
 I figure most likely that most of the Fleet will come in, and they can
refit and update all the battlestars.  Some of those things, from what I've
heard, shouldn't even be flying, let alone fighting.  There is talk of
returning to the deep-star exploration probes, and personally, I think a
battlestar would be ideal for that.  
	"As for the Assault Teams, I really don't have a clue.  They might disband
a few of them, but I think they'll keep most of us.  There will always be
piracy that we'll have to keep under control, things like that.  Hopefully,
though, it just means I'll get a lot of time off!"
	"Oh, Cutapons to be
used against their creators.  Then again, if it was the complete opposite,
he would feel nearly the same rush of power.  Provided there was a hefty
profit for himself.
     "Yes, as I always say," continued Pacino, "I may be one of the most
notorious criminals of Picsea, but I will do anything I can to help stop
the Cylons.  Souless monsters."
     "Of course," Baltar smiled.  "Sir, with your permission..?"
     "Yes, I know, you have things to attend to.  Go to it, my young Baltar."

     Baltar left the quarters of his employer, and returned to his own
office.  He called up the files of the latest Cylon hijacking, and entered
the appropriate numbers into his personal accounting subroutines.
     Baltar lifted an eyebrow.  Very nice profit.  Perhaps there is
something to this 'good-guy' routine, after all.  Of course, a significant
portion of the total of his finances would be deteriorated by the cleansing
of the cubits.  However, it was worth it.  No amount of Council Finance
Coler, that's wonderful.  I won't be making myself sick worried
about you every time you go off on a mission."
	"And I won't have to leave you and miss you the whole time I'm dodging
Cylons in some jungle wasteland somewhere in the galaxy."
	After a few centons of silence, Cutler coughed slightly, then shifted
nervously to face Tisa.
	"How would you like to move in when I get back from the Ceremony?"
	Tisa was silent, but her eyes turned toward his as she met his question.
Cutler could see the disbelief gradually fade and a happy glow take its place.
	"Do you mean it?  Do you really mean it?"  She wrapped her her arms around
him.
	"Sure.  We can start moving you in just as soon as I get back.  I've
already put in for a quatrons leave.  I was thinking we could call it a
honeymoon, if you are interested."  Cutler could see she was startled again.
	"Do you mean...?  I mean, is that...."  She squeezed his hand even
tighter.  "Are you asking me to get Sealed?"
	"Well," Cutler said, "that's the usual mmission auditing could ever prove that any of his gains had been illegal.
     He just may have to look into branching out on his own.  While his own
accounts were brimming full, he knew it was nothing compared to what Pacino
must be putting away.  He didn't know for sure, as he was only a shipping
consultant for the Crimelord, and didn't have access to some of the
internal workings of Pacino's organization.
     "Yes, very profitable.  And fun," Baltar muttered to himself.  He
almost secretly hoped the war with the Cylons would continue, despite the
fact that many of his friends and family had perished at Cylon hands.
Well, the war had been going on nearly a thousand yahrens, why would it
stop any time soon?
     Baltar finished his bookeeping, and tidied up his workspace.  He
gathered his things, then went to Pacino's quarters.
     "Sir?" he said, slowly pushing the already unlatched door.
     "Yes, Baltar," Pacino said.  "Please, come here."
     "I was just reporting I had finished--" Baway it works, you get sealed, you
move in, and we have a honeymoon."  Cutler felt exultation as he finally
completed his mission, almost the same feeling he got when watching a
mission objective fade as the shuttle lifted him from the area.  Somehow,
this victory seemed sweeter than any previous one. 
	"YES!" She nearly yelled, then threw herself on him, and held him tight.

21

	Baltar closed the connection, and smiled broadly.  It was all almost too
easy.  The Council, and that trusting imbecil Adar had bought every word of
his terms.  The bulk of the Fleet could be wiped out at once, along with
the entire Council of the Twelve.  All without excessive damge to the
Colonies themselves.  He was proud of the plan, and was certain that
nothing could go wrong with it.
	Baltar would make his escape from the Atlantia at the last micron before
the Cylon attack force arrived.  His ship had been coded into the Raider's
targeting system, and according to the Imperious Leader, would not be
targeted asltar started.
     "Yes, yes, I am sure it is all good.  Please, come in!"  Pacino repeated.
     Baltar eased into the study, to see two other men with Pacino.  One,
he recognized at his Security officer, and the second, Baltar knew to be
Pacino's personal pilot.  Karrib, Carob, no, Karibdis, that's it, Baltar
thought.
     "Baltar, my friend, I will have a very important mission for you, just
as soon as I can clear up a few things," Pacino told him.
     "Oh, what is it?" Baltar fiegned interest.  He really wanted to be
leaving.
     "What have I told you is one of the biggest problems for us, to keep
up with the Cylon shipments?"  Pacino asked.
     "It is fuel, of course," Baltar said.  "We are only allotted a small
amount per secton, and the black market sources are starting to dry up.
Have you found another marketer?"  Balter was suddenly interested.  Tylium
on the black market would bring an unheard of profit.
     "Not as such, to speak of.  What would you think of us being able to
ge it left the vicinity of the Fleet.
	When Baltar would return to the Colonies, he would be able to rally the
entire population under him, and quickly acsend to the office of the
presidency.  He was even debating not even proposing a newly elected
council, as they would only get in his way as he solidified his power, and
would be able to reap the benefits from his deal with the Imperious Leader.
	Karibdis had just informed him that his hand-picked computer hackers had
just finished uploading the entire rewritten software into the defense
systems of all twelve colonies.  The finished virus was even better than
anyone had even hoped for.  Instead of a time-delay, or even a signal from
the outside, the entire system would lock itself down into an irrecoverable
logic loop at the first sign of a Cylon craft that entered the systems range.
	The hard part had actually been getting the subroutines into place.  The
first few attempts had been unsuccessful, and had even resulted in a
tightening of the compt shipments from one the of the largest Tylium mines in the galaxy?"
     "That would--Good Lords, that would be wonderful!"  Baltar stammered.
"But where?"
     "I have heard sources tell me," Pacino said, "of a Tylium mining
operation that would dwarf nearly anything else the Colonies have access
to.  We could actually start our own operation, bringing out enough tylium
for our own needs at first, then some to sell, and, after we are firmly
entrenched, we can actually open it up and sell it to the Colonies
outright.  Think of the profit from the military contracts alone.  And all
the while, we could really shut down those evil Tin-headed machines!"
     Baltar nearly didn't hear the last.  He bobbed his head in response,
but his mind was racing.  Black market tylium.  I could actually enter the
Big Time!  Perhaps once we have the mine operational, I can still manage to
siphon off a bit from the top, and still sell black market--
     "But of course," Pacino interrupted Baltar's line of thoughtuter security measures already in place.  But it had
been achieved.
	At long last, Baltar was about to accomplish something with his life.  And
now, as he packed the few things he would need for the trip, it was time to
make history.

	With the Star Kobol parked in the Atlantia's landing bay, it was very
crowded for the flight crews.  In addition to the full crew, there was the
entire Council, their staff, and a select few other bureauticians and
journalists, all of them naturally claiming V.I.P. status.  As a result,
the 8th Assault Team would have been forced to share berthing scattered
throughout the ship.
	Instead, Colonel Howell decided that it would be better to have the entire
Team in one place.  So the decision was allowed to let the Daggits berth in
their own shuttle.
	It was kind of cramped, and not very comfortable.  But, Cutler decided, it
was even better that their weapons and equipment did not have to be turned
into the Atlantia's armory.  If it would be needed, they could get t, "That is
providing the mine is there, and that it can be worked."  Pacino's grin
said that he knew Baltar was thinking in cubits.
     "Where is it?"  Baltar asked.
     "You and Karibdis will be leaving in two hundred centuars.  It is a
long journey, and you will have to stop on Borallus to refuel. The name of
the planet I want you to check out is called Carillon."
     "Of course, Sir" Baltar replied.


3

     "Daggit Two to Daggit One, in position," Cutler reported over the coms
unit.
     "Daggit One, confirmed," Colonel Howell's voice came back into
Cutler's earpiece.  Cutler signaled to Siree, and turned back to the Cylon
emplacement.
     The mission was simple, but very deadly.  Cylons had captured a
passenger liner enroute from the outer Colonies to Caprica.  Reports were
that the Cylons had taken prisoners, but no intelligence report could
confirm it.  The last known telemetry from the ship had been tracked and
extrapolated to one of two Cylon controlled planetoids.  The firso it
very quickly.
	Cutler found himself wondering just how much of his own suspicions were
shared.  He recognized Commander Adama as he came and went from the Council
meetings, and noticed the elder man remained armed with a standard-issue
blaster.  And Howell himself pointed out to the Team that if the Council
Security types didn't know about the rifles and other weapons stowed on the
shuttle, they couldn't very well ask it to be turned in.
	For himself, Cutler had his issue weapon tied down on his right thigh, as
per uniform regulations.  What wasn't part of the regulations, however, was
the large knife that was tucked under his tunic, as well as the two small
hand blasters that had been custom-fitted into small holsters carved into
the inside of his uniform boots.
	One thing that hadn't been mentioned earlier, however, was that Team would
not only rotate on the Presidential Detail, they would also be assigned to
protect Baltar.  It seemed that as the Day of Armistice drew closer and
closert one had
proven barren, but Viper fly-overs of the second had shown a Cylon base, as
well as the captured liner.
     Unknown to many, and hopefully unknown to the Cylons, was the identity
of one of the passengers: Councilman Stuart, from the Libra Colony.  The
Mud Daggit's mission: Rescue the Councilman, if he was still alive, along
with any other passengers, and if possible, destroy the base.
     In just over ten centons, a red flare shot skyward, flooding the
encampment with redish light.  This light was also enhanced with
ultraviolet, which had been proven to confuse the Centurian's eye-scanners.
     "Let's GO!"  Cutler leaped from cover, bringing his laser rifle up,
and letting two blasts fly.  The laser bolts connected with the lead
Centurian, showering sparks and dropping it in its tracks.
     All around Cutler and Siree, the rest of the 8th followed suit.  A
total of eight Cylons were cut down in the opening salvo.
     "Fire in the hole!"  Cutler heard Siree shout.  Cutler keyed hi, the anti-peace people had stepped up the frequency and severity of
threats against the man.  Just how many were genuine and how many were
merely angry, empty threats was not a matter of debate.  The presidential
staff decided that a loss of Baltar would mean a loss of any chance of
peace, and that was a risk they simply wouldn't take.
	Cutler quickly found that the voyage left many centaurs off duty, as most
of the Council had brought their own security details from their own
colonies.  Which left a very large pool to rotate personnel from, meaning
each person had more time off.  He found himself lounging in the shuttle
during most of his free time, feeling very out of place with all the
high-ranking officials having nearly free run of the battlestar.
	While he slept, he dreamed of a beautiful, dark-haired woman.

	As the Atlantia fleet began their approach to the Moon of Cimtar, the
agreed-on rondezvous, Cutler could feel the excitement and anticipation
begin to grow stronger with each passis com
unit, warning the rest of the Team to get down.  Siree tossed a solenite
grenade toward the heavy-gun unit at the corner of the main compound.  Two
Centurians watched it fall, then made clumsy attempts at reaching for cover.
     The grenade exploded, sending Cylon bodies flying.  The laser ammo of
the heavy rifle went up next from the heat of the initial blast, sending
secondary shock waves thoughout the camp.
     "MOVE IN!"  Cutler heard Colonel Howell say over the com unit.
     Cutler and Siree dashed from their cover, rifles at the ready.  They
were the penetration team, whose job it was to actually enter the buildings
and search for the survivors.  Recon reports had narrowed the chances down
to two possible locations, both located inside the main structure.
     Raliegh and Degeria moved inward also, trying to keep the Cylons
pinned down.  Zeta used his heavy laser rifle, and kept the main entrance
clear.
     Cutler raised his left hand, to signal Zeta they were entering the
strung centon.
	It gets much heavier out there, Cutler thought as he prepared to relieve
Siree on his shift with Baltar, and we won't even be able to walk through it!
	Cutler straightened his semi-formal uniform, and ensured his weapons were
in place.  Couldn't be in the presence of the President looking like
anything less than a recruitment poster.  As he finished, Raliegh came to
the shuttle, having been relieved on his shift with Adar.
	"Man, I'm glad that's over!"  Siree exclaimed as he threw himself on a
make-shift rack.
	"That bad, eh?"  Cutler grinned.
	"Cut, you should have seen that thing.  It wasn't a Council meeting, it
was a 'we're great' party.  Everyone in there toasting each other, talking
about how wonderful they were, and the President himself making Baltar look
like the greatest person alive since the Tenth Lord of Kobol led the tribes
out to the Colonies!"
	"Sheesh!"
	"You said it, it was getting so deep in there, I was afraid I'd get in
over my boots!
	"At least," Siree conticture.  He held his fire while Cutler and Siree leaped into the entrance.
     Cutler went low, to his right.  Siree dodged to the left.  Siree
spotted a Cylon lumbering toward them, and dropped him with a single blast.
 The two warriors then followed a 'leaping' tactic to cover each other as
they moved inward.
     Cutler stopped next to a large door.  He tried to palm the controls,
but they had been encrypted.  Frustrated, he sent a laser blast into the
panel, which caused the door to slide open.
     Cutler dived into the room, with Siree right behind him.  They heard
the startled gasps of human voices.
     "Colonial Warriors, 8th Assault Team!  We are here to take you home!"

     Raliegh and Degeria had finished mopping up the perimeter, and planted
solonite charges in several vital locations.  Cutler, after getting the
'all clear' over his com unit, had herded the prisoners outside.  He
pointed them outside the encampment, and called for the evac team to meet
them.
     When Cutler andnued, "Adama still doesn't believe it."
	"Still not?"  Cutler asked.
	"No, he was looking pretty sick of the whole thing actually.  I overheard
him and the President talking, and it was sad.  The man just forced a
smile, and agreed with Adar."
	Cutler shook his head.  He knew Adama had been one of the most criticized
people in the media, because he not only voiced his suspicions about the
peace offer, he also was active-duty military.  If the election were held
tomorrow, he had little doubt that Adama would lose his seat on the Council.
	"Probably just sick of arguing about it.  I'd bet that the Galactica will
be ready in case something falls to felgercarb though," Cutler speculated.
	"Uh huh, makes me wish we were berthing over there, instead of this
floating bureautician-land!"
	"Anyway," Cutler consulted his chronometer, "time for me to relieve
Raliegh watching over Baltar.  Can't have anything happen to him before
they build his temple, now can we?"
	The men laughed as Cutler left the shut the passengers were clear, Raliegh detonated the
solonite.  Most of the buildings were crumbled, those that weren't were
pretty much rendered useless.
     The civilians they had rescued were herded onto a waiting
shuttlecraft, that lifted off as soon as Cutler stepped onboard.  Vipers
provided cover for them as soon as they cleared the atmosphere, and the
entire unit set a course for the waiting Gunship.
     "Once again, Colonel Howell," President Adar said over the comm, "I
must congratulate you and your team for pulling off the impossible."
     "Nothing is impossible, sir," Howell replied.
     "Nevertheless, Colonel, I feel I owe you and your men a great deal.  I
would very much like to give the award--"
     "Sir," Howell interrupted.  "Mr. President, I have already told you
what my and my team's feeling are in the matter.  If you must reward us,
simply put it in the record.  Any undue publicity would make it all the
more difficult for us to sucessfully do our jobs."
     Adar shook hitle.

22

	Cutler watched the activity on the Atlantia bridge.  Officers milled from
station to station, called reports out, and accepted orders as to heading
and speed.  President Adar, flanked by Baltar, tried to be everywhere at
once, not wanting to miss a moment of the history he was about to create.
	"Commander Adama on Fleet ComLine Alpha, Mister President," a technician
called out.
	"I'll take it here," Adar replied.
	Cutler, being a security person, was supposed to be in the vicinity, not
necessarily visible.  However, he tried to ease closer to the console to
hear what Adama had to say.
	"Quite right, Baltar.  Commander, as a precautionary measure, I insist
upon restraint.  If this turns out to be an encounter with some outlaw
traffic, we could jeopardize the whole cause of peace by displaying
fighters when we are so close to our rondezvous."
	"Mister President, two of my starfighters are under armed attack!" Adama's
voice came through, and Cutler could hear the disbelief he felt hs head.  "Well, Colonel, if you insist.  Still, I give my
deepest gratitude."
     "Sir, that's all we really want."

     Eighth Assault Headquarters was a non-descript building around the
back side of the main Caprica military base.  A small aircraft pad was
located behind the building, with several small shuttlecraft stationed
inside equally small hangars.  This would allow the Team to leave the base
and rondezvous with any orbiting ship without waiting for the Air Division
of the Warriors to scedule them a flight.
     The team departed the shuttle they had ridden down from the Iraknis, a
Colonial Gunship.  Smaller in size than a Battlestar, it only carried one
Viper squadron, and was nearly twice as fast.  Also a large pulsar cannon
was affixed beneath the nose of the ship, allowing for massive firepower
against the Cylon Basestars.
     As they stowed their gear at HQ, Colonel Howell filed the reports with
the Central computer.  The movements of the Mud Daggits were beyond Need to
Know imself at
Adar's words.
	"By forces unknown!" Adar stressed.  "You are not to launch until the
situation is more clear!"
	"Sir, may I at least urge you to bring the fleet to a state of alert?"
Adama's strained voice came back over the sytem.
	"I will consider that.  Thank you, Commander," Adar replied as he cut off
the signal.  He then turned to Baltar.
	"Don't worry, Baltar, I know Adama.  He has just fought long battles with
the Cylons, and has his suspicions of their motives.  He will follow my
orders, and do what is honorable."
	"Of course," Baltar replied, with a smile that Cutler knew was forced.

	Baltar smiled at the President, while his own mind burned with a near-hatred.
	Adama.  The man who had been his most outspoken critic.  Even Baltar's own
people spreading word about Adama had failed to completely erode the
Capricans trust in their elected Councilman.  If not watched carefully, the
Commander could undo his whole operation in one order to launch fighters.
	In a way, it was verSecret, and only accessible to himself, President Adar, and, if
required, by the SpecialOpposition Branch of Council Security.  To the best
of anyone's knowledge, those orders had only been enforced one time in
Colonial history.  That was for the illegal platinum raid conducted by
Commander Croft and his Ice Legion, when they had refused to turn over the
bounty of their raid.
     "So, Cutler, what are you doing tonight?" asked Raliegh.
     "Thought I'd visit with my family, and head down to the Depositorie
for a few cold ones," Culter replied.
     "Really, thought about heading out there tonight myself."
     "Want to meet up there later?"
     "Sure, see you at about 23 Centaurs."
     Cutler had changed into his civilian attire, a loose-fitting blouse
over dark trousers.  He collected his personal things, and retrieved the
keys to his hovermobile.
     "Catch you later, Colonel," Cutler said as he exited the building.
Howell glanced up from his comp terminal, and nodded.
     Cutler unloy fitting that Adama would die in Baltar's own
ascension to power.  After everything the man had done, he deserved to die.
 After he returned to take control of the Colonies, he would make certain
that the man's name would be tarnished in any history of the event.
	The only way it could be better, Baltar thought, is if I could see your
face and tell you what I know about you!
	Very soon now, a lifelong debt would be paid.  In blood.  Adama's blood.
	The future was at hand...

	"What's all that about?"  Cutler asked a woman at a comms console.
	"A couple of patrols from the Galactica appear to be getting into some
trouble.  Commander Adama thinks it might be Cylons, obviously!" the
technician said with an amused tone.
	You'd better hope not, lady, Cutler thought.  If it is, there's no way
this tub could get a Viper out there in less than 20 centons! Cutler was
willing to bet that the rest of the fleet was probably in the same
condition.  Except maybe the Galactica.
	Cutler noticed Baltar and Acked and activated his hovermobile.  He slowly cruised
until he was off the Military base, then brought the vehicle up to speed.
He reached for the entertainment controls, and dialed up a civilian music
broadcast.  He nodded his head to the time of the music.  Not quite as
"musically artistic" as most people his age preferred, Cutler enjoyed the
fast, harder chords of the popular culture.
     Within about 3 millocentons, he had reached his family's home in
Caprica City's suburban area.  His parents hovermobile was in the bay, as
was his sister's newer model.  He pulled in behind the vehicles present,
and shut down the power to his own.
     He gathered the small bag of gifts he had aquired for his family, and
climbed out of the car.  He moved toward the side entrance to his family's
dwelling, but was pleasantly surprised when his sister bounced out the door
greet him.
     "Hey, look who's home!"  Bethea said.
     "Hi there, Sis," Cutler hugged her, and the two moved inside the
building.
  dar moving around the bridge again, and turned
to follow.  Being on security detail can put a lot of metrons on your boots.
	Adar made the complete round of the bridge, trying to make sure he talked
to everyone.  Cutler noticed that Baltar seemed as though he was steering
the President away from some of the communications panels and sensor
stations.  With the pace the two were setting, however, it was impossible
for Cutler to notice what those stations might have to report that the
President was being sheilded from.
	Cutler noticed a bridge officer quickly rush Adar to a comms station, and
Cutler himself had to hurry to hear what was going on.  He felt the rush
that he usually did right before the action started, and could not account
for the feeling.  Maybe the signal that Adar was about to accept had
something to do with it.
	"Commander?"  Adar said, sounding slightly annoyed at Adama's continued
skepticism.
	"Mr. President," Adama's voice came over the circuit.  "A wall of
unidentified craf   "Mother, I'm home!" Cutler called out in his traditional manner.  He
saw her turn from the cooking station, and smiled warmly.
     "Son, I would hug you, but I have talon roots all over my hands," Jola
said.
     "Don't worry, I'll let you owe me," Cutler replied.
     He moved through the dwelling, coming into the family room.  His
father, Niles, was sitting in his chair, watching the news scans on the
entertainment scanner.
     "Hi Dad," Cutler said, as he found an empty chair.
     "Good to have you back," his father replied.  Niles took the small
package from Cutler, and opened it.  It was a poplular fumarillo lighter,
with the Iraknis' squadron crest engraved on it.  Cutler had started his
father a collection of them, to show show each ship in the Colonial Service
he had been on.
     Niles himself was retired from the Serivces, and enjoyed the
continuation of his own collection of military memoribelia.  Occasionally,
Cutler was able to get passes to give his father tours on some of t is closing in on the Fleet!"
	"Possibly a Cylon welcoming commitee," Baltar said softly, with that smile
that Cutler had quickly gotten to find very sickening.
	"Sir, may I suggest we launch a 'welcoming commitee' of our own?"  Adama
said with an air of defiance.
	"Mister President," Baltar said, as though he were correcting an unruley
child.  "There remain many hostile feelings amongst our warriors.  The
likelihood of an unfortunate incident, with all those pilots in the sky at
once?"  Baltar moved away, leaving Adar to answer Adama on his own.
	"Commander..."
	"Sir," Adama said incredulously, "Did Count Baltar suggest that our forces
sit here, totally defenseless?"
	"My friend, we are on a peace mission!  The first peace man has known in a
thousand yahren!"  Adar answered, clearly thinking of the great promises of
peace that had been made.
	Adar looked around the bridge, and Cutler swore that he was desperately
looking for some sign to prove that he had been right.
	"Mister President," Adthe
vessels in port, or sometimes even the large ones, like Battlestars, in
orbit above Caprica.
     Cutler watched the news scans.  The commentator was trying to get
interviews with some of the hostages that Cutler and the Team had just
rescued.
     "So about all that can be determined at this time, is a secret team,
possibly even a Colonial Assault Team, was the unit to carry out the rescue
mission.  We will give you more as soon as we can learn it for ourselves.
This is Serina, at Caprica's Military Spacedrome."  The station ID flashed
on the scanner, followed by an advertisment for a local eatery.
     "You know," Niles said, motioning toward the scanner, "I'll bet that
was you and your friends, wasn't it?"
     "You know I can't tell you that, Dad," Cutler replied.
     "Yes, I know."  Niles looked up, and smiled at his son.  "Good job."
     Niles looked back at the scanner, and continued speaking.  "You know,
they ought to make that reporter, Serina, an anchor.  She's got more news
cama's voice came over the comm channel, unanswered.
Cutler was close enough to hear another familiar voice, that of Colonel
Tigh, in the backgroud, but could not make out precisely what he said to
the Commander.
	"Mister President," Adama said again, after Tigh had finished speaking,
"your 'welcoming committee' is firing at our patrol!"
	Adar face completely flushed of confidence as he turned his head around.
	"Baltar?" he asked, as though he were expecting an answer to the newest
development.  "Baltar?"   Baltar had moved away from the station, and Adar
saw him keying the circuit on another communication panel.
	An explosion blossomed in the darkness of space several hundred
kilometrons in front of the Atlantia.  With the extreme visual range, it
was impossible to even see the ships out that far, let alone which one had
been destroyed.
	"What was that?" Adar spoke, almost to no one.
	"That was my son, Mister President," Adama replied softly.
	The Atlantia's bridge had seemingly suddenly spranredibility than most of them on the air now."
     "Yes, but she can use some questionable tactics to get the story
sometimes.  And now with all those rumors about the man she was sealed to,
I don't know."
     Cutler and his father exchange conversation for while, until Jola's
voice called from the kitchen.
     "OK, it's ready."
     Cutler and his family ate their meal, and afterward, Cutler assisted
his mother in cleaning the untisils.
     "Say, Mother, I hope you don't mind, but I was going to meet Raliegh a
little later."
     "Of course, I don't mind.  You go out and enjoy your self.  You don't
get much time off between missions anyway."
     "Thanks Mother," Cutler said, and gave her a kiss on the cheek as he
headed out toward his vehicle.

4

     "So what'll it be?" the waitress asked Cutler over the noise of the band.
     "Budareii," Culter replied, naming his favorite local brand of
baharii.  "On my tab, if you could."
     "Sure thing, sweetie.  Be right back," she said as g to life.  Alert
klaxons sounded, and officers rushed from station to station, some shouting
orders.  Cutler was so caught up in the almost chaotic activity, he nearly
missed Baltar swing and knock Adar to the deckplates.
	I knew I was right about you!
	Cutler whipped out his pistol, intending to cut Baltar down any way he
could.  If there was enough left of the traitor for a trial, fine, if not,
so much the better.  Right before he could pull the trigger, a junior
officer of the Atlantia crew ran headlong into him, knocking both of them
to the deck.
	Cutler managed to get himself to a kneeling position, just in time to see
Baltar turn and dash for the exit, with a chain trailing from his hands.
He rushed over to the stunned Adar, and helped the man sit up.
	"Mister President, are you all right?" Cutler asked, trying to make sure
he was heard over the activity of the bridge crew.
	"Yes, son, I'm OK."  Adar hand stole to his breast, then he looked down at
himself.  "My Seal!" he exclaimed.  "Bshe disappeared
through the crowd.
     Cutler watched the crowd.  The Depositorie was a large entertainment
establishment, catering to a lot of the military crowd around Caprica City.
 It often featured live bands, playing a mix of traditional and modern folk
music.  A large dance floor was usually filled whenever music was playing,
and there were game tables toward the back.
     As he was watching, a familiar face caught his eye.  He watched mildly
amused as he saw Raliegh fighting his way through the crowd.  As the
waitress returned with his drink, Cutler ordered another one.  Only thing
is, he thought, is at the rate Raliegh's going, it'll be warm before he
gets here.
     Cutler leaned back to relax in his chair, and put the short bottle to
his mouth.  As he took a long drink of the baharii, He saw another familiar
face..  He lowered the bottle, and turned to investigate.  Tall, with long
black hair, and dark features that marked her as a native of Caprica's
equatorial islands.  Oh yes, altar has taken my Seal of Office!
Stop him, or we all will die!"  He struggled to gain his footing, and
Cutler assisted the older man.
	"Sir?"
	"Stop that man!  I'll be OK, maybe I can pull us through!"  Adar regained
his composure, then turned to face the onslaught of Cylon ships that
swooped over the viewport on the Presidential Battlestar.
	Cutler picked up his pistol, and turned to follow Baltar from the bridge.
There could only be one destination he was headed to: The launch bay, and
escape.  He keyed his own handheld comm unit, and contacted Degeria on the
Team's shuttle.
	"Dee, have Raliegh get that bird ready for launch, we have a major
situation!  I'll be there in a centon!"
	Baltar, if it's the last thing I do, Cutler screamed in his mind as he
raced to the launch bay, I'll make sure you pay for what you've done here!

	When Cutler leaped from the crew elevator as it descended to the launch
decks, he saw a ship taxiing, gaining momentum as it rose from the deck.
Several shots crishe thought, it's Tisa.
     She spotted him as soon as he turned.  As soon as she recognized the
face, her own broke out with a bright smile, the kind that Cutler would
always swear could illuminate the entire section of the city.
     Cutler stood, as she made her way to his table.  They met in a warm
embrace.
     "Hey, gorgeous," Cutler told her.
     "Hey yourself, stranger," Tisa replied.  "Glad you're back."
     "Glad to be back, at least now I am," Cutler said.
     "Flatterer," she turned up her nose playfully, and gave him a quick
kiss.  "Be back in a little bit."
     "I'll be waiting."
     By this time, Raliegh had finally made it to the table, just in time
to see Cutler intently studying Tisa's departure.
     "Hey, Cut, was that her?"
     "Oh, yes," Cutler replied, almost absently.
     Tisa had been Cutler's sometimes-girlfriend for nearly two yharens
now.  With him always being called away, sometimes for sectons or longer,
it made it very hard to maintain any sort of seriouscrossed the launch bay, some making contact with the
ship, but doing no damage.
	Cutler raced to the center lane of the launch area, and held his pistol in
a steady two handed grip, rapidly squeezing the trigger.  Bolt after bolt
shot from the small weapon, most of them contacting the ship, but again to
almost no effect.  He felt the backwash of the ships engines as they gained
throttle to launch velocity, and just as quickly, the ship vanished from
the bay.
	Cutler saw the Team's shuttle taxiing to a similar position in the launch
lane.  He rushed over to it, and saw Zeta toss his heavy laser rifle into
the open hatch, then leaped in himself.  Cutler followed, to see Siree
extend a hand through the hatch to assist him in boarding.
	"What the hades is going on?" Zeta asked, as he struggled to get into a
seat for launch.
	"Cutler? I assume we are following that bastard?" Raliegh called from the
pilot's chair.
	"Damn right!  I owe that man, and I intend to collect!"  Cutler snarled.
It was thes relationship.  As a
result, they usually enjoyed each others company when they could, but
Cutler felt that it would never develop much farther than that.  Since
neither one of them had asked for any sort of commitment, he realized that
during his long periods away from Caprica, that she probably would date,
and he really couldn't blame her.
     However, as of late, he had been thinking of discussing the idea of a
serious relationship with her.  The other guys in the Team had accused him
of being scared to go through with it, and Cutler was beginning to think
they were right.  Seems he was always finding a reason not to talk to her
about it.  Someday, he thought, someday.
     "So, you two going to talk, or what?" Raliegh asked.
     Cutler shrugged, and retrieved his drink.  He saw the waitress moving
toward them, and he signalled her for two more drinks.
     Suddenly, a loud smack was heard.  Cutler and Raliegh both turned
toward the sound, not sure what to expect.  Damn training, Cutler tn he saw Degeria pressing a field dressing on her arm.  "What
happened?" he demanded.
	"I caught your warning, just in time to see Baltar run out, trying to make
for his ship.  I tried to stop him, and that pilot of his put a bolt in me.
 Good thing he's such a lousy shot!"  Dee said, obviously in pain.
	"Zeta, get her some painkillers.  Raliegh, get this thing in the air, we
still have to clear some obstacles!"
	"Just what is going on out there?" Siree asked.
	"Cylon's pulled a double-cross.  Instead of meeting with us to sign an
armistice, they intend to wipe out the bulk of the fleet, right here.
After that, they'll be able to move in on the Colonies."  Cutler thought
about the implications.  "Seems they were right, the Cylons are tired of
the war--they just decided to end it right now!"
	Raliegh pushed the throttles up, and the shuttle shot forward, acheiving
escape velocity from the monsterous ship, shooting into space.  He
immedietly threw the small ship into a hard dive, barely missing bhought,
got us all jumping at every shadow.
     What they saw was a dark-haired woman following through with a hard
slap to a blonde Warrior.  He was halfway between sitting and standing at a
nearby table, with an attractive redhead occupying a seat at the table.
     "You RAT!" the brunette snarled.
     "Athena," the Warrior said slowly, as if allowing himself time to
think.  He took a pull on his fumarillo, then set it down in the ashholder.
 "Athena, it's not what it looks like!"
     "Oh, really?" she crossed her arms.  "So how did you put it?  Oh yes:
'No, sweetheart, I'm probably going to stay on the base after the training
class is over?  No, I'll probably be too bushed to do anything.  No, stay
on the ship, I'm going to get some rest?'"
     The woman at the table slowly shook her head, then stood up and
quietly walked away.  The Warrior made a half-motion to stop her, then
apparently decided against it, and returned his attention to the one he had
called Athena.
     However, by theing hit
by multiple blasts from Cylon dive-bombers.  Cutler whipped his head
around, trying to see the battle that was taking place.
	Several of the Atlantia's turrets were returning fire, many of the shots
connecting simply due to the large number of ships in the area.  However,
it looked as though the Cylons had the upper hand, and Cutler had yet to
see any Vipers streak from the battlestar's launch tubes.
	The Team was nearly tossed around the compartment of the shuttle several
times as Raliegh dodged both enemy fire and ships, hoping to get a clear
shot at open space where he could put some distance between the battle that
was being waged and the small unarmed craft.  It seemed the only way they
were able to avoid being destroyed was the fact that the Cylon fighters
were appearing to concentrate their fire on the large warship.  
	Cutler found himself wishing very much for one of the experimental Team
Shuttles, that Council Appropriations had turned down due to budget
restraints.  Both theis time, Athena had spun on her heel, and stormed off
the other direction.  The Warrior caught sight of her, then looked back at
the departing redhead.  He picked up his fumarillo, looked in both
directions again, then finally made up his mind.
     "Come on, Athena!" he said, as he began moving through the crowd after
her.
     Cutler grinned, and finished the bottle of baharii.
     "You know, Raliegh, I'll bet you some of those playboy pilots are more
worried about their last girlfriends than they are of the Cylons!"
     Raliegh laughed.
     Cutler and Raliegh spent most of the night sitting, drinking, and
laughing over old stories.  As the night drew to a close, Cutler heard the
band strike the  familiar opening notes to a popular romantic ballad.
     As his mood settled down to the music, he took a long drink of
baharii.  As he set the bottle down, he caught a whiff of a fragrance that
he would know anywhere.
     A pair of arms slid around his shoulders, as a soft voice whispered in
 oversized engines, and the dorsal gun bubbles would
have been welcome right now.
	"Cutler?"  Raliegh asked.
	"Yo!"
	"I've got a fix on Baltar's ship.  Heading--Frak, they just jumped!"
	"Did you get a heading?  Where's that snitrad going?"
	"Hold on, computer's cross-checking..."  Raliegh looked up.  "Assuming he
doesn't drop out and change course, he's headed to Caprica."
	"Mister Raliegh," Cutler said, "Then you've got your own orders.  Let's go
get him!"

23

	Raliegh set the ship down, and powered down the star drives.  Cutler had
used the long trip to inventory the weapons supplies, coming up with things
they would need once they set down at Team HQ.  He also tried to hope that
Baltar had been tricked, along with everyone else.
	However, they had once again run into unexcpected trouble.  Cutler first
got the feeling that something was desperately wrong when no one answered
the calls Raliegh made to Caprica Approach control.  As they penetrated
Caprica farspace, it was apparent that ahis ear.
     "Come on, big guy, you owe me a dance."
     Cutler rose, and followed Tisa to the dance floor.  He took a deep
breath, enjoying the fragrance she wore.  Cutler had wondered what it was,
but she kept it in unmarked bottles and always refused to tell.  He now
just associated the smell with her.
     They danced close, while Cutler's mind raced.  He tried unsuccessfully
to come up with a way to open the discussion with her about their
relationship.  When the song ended, the crowd applauded the band, and
slowly moved off the floor.
     "Hey, Tisa," Cutler said as they returned to his table.  "Want to get
out of here, go get some caffe or something?"
     "I'd like to get out of here," she replied softly, "but not for caffe."

     Out of habit, Cutler woke up early the next morning.  His head had a
slight pounding to it, something that he estimated to be caused by about
three too many drinks.  The daylight was starting to creep into the room
through the blinds, and Cutler recognizn ambush of the fleet was not all
the Cylons intended.
	Degeria had taken a turn a the comms units, and ended up scanning all the
frequencies, both civilian and military.  All units that were still
broadcasting were saying the same thing: the planet was destroyed.
	They had been unable to return any communications, until they had gotten
to Caprica nearspace.  Even then, all they could get was bits and pieces of
information, all seemed to be told by panic-stricken survivors.  Raliegh
ran a deep scan in orbit around the planet, and the Team was speechless at
the amount of destruction that was evident even from space.
	Finally, they found what they were looking for--particle emmissions from
an interstellar stardrive.  They had located Baltar's ship.
	Raliegh steered the shuttle through the atmosphere, and set down mere
metrons away from the location.  Cutler got a fix on the direction, and
headed out the hatch as loaded with weapons as he could, including the
laser-sniper.
	Wordlessly, the rest oed the room as Tisa's.
     After he got his bearings, he realized that he was in bed alone.  He
checked his chronometer that had been set on the nightstand, and confirmed
that he did not have to report to the base.
     As he started working up the energy to sit up, he heard footsteps in
the hallway.  Tisa entered the room with two steaming mugs in her hands.
     "Good morning Cutler," she said.  "I think you said something last
night about some caffe?" She held out a mug for him.  "Black, like you like
it."
     "Darling," he said, "you are an angel!"  He sipped the hot liquid,
slowly letting the stimulant bring him fully awake.
     She sat down on the edge of the bed, and looked at him.
     "Hey," she said.  He raised his eyebrows in question.  "I've missed you."
     "I gathered that," Cutler grinned.  She smiled back, the smile that
could melt his heart every time.
     "Hey, Tisa, can we talk a little bit?"
     "Sure."
     He took a deep breath, trying to remember how he wanted to f the team outfitted themselves, and followed him out.
	Cutler found a vantage point about a metron from Baltar's ship.  He got
the high ground, and unpacked the sniper rifle.  He would use it this time,
and make no mistake about it, he would accomplish the mission that he now
knew he should have accomplished the first time.
	When he got the ship into focus on the scope, he searched around it,
hoping to see Baltar near it.  He was rewarded with what he wanted, and he
tuned in the audio from the directional mic that Degeria had mounted.
	He watched the traitor as he paced the small area near his ship.  Wonder
who's he waiting for? Cutler asked himself, The Cylons to deliver his payoff?
	"Do you have him?" Zeta asked, as he began to set up and charge the the
squad automatic laser.
	"Shhhh!" Cutler said without looking up.
	Two Cylon centurians had entered the picture, and approached Baltar.  He
turned up the signal gain from the audio system.
	"Their destruction is complete?" the dark haired traistart this
conversation.
     "Ahhh, well," he said.  To hades with all this, he thought.  Just spit
it out.  "I was thinking about something."
     "That could be dangerous," she quipped.  Don't I know it, he thought
to himself.
     "Listen, I was wondering, just how you might feel about making this
thing we've got a little more permanent like?"  He paused, took another
drink of his caffe.  "You know, it won't be easy," he continued, "what with
me always having to go on missions.  You know what I do, and you know I
can't tell you much about it.
     "But, I've thought about it a lot, and I really love having you in my
life.  I know you've got your career, working with the Civil Defense
Services, and all.  But, I think I would really like to be able to really
call you my girlfriend."
     She sat quietly, sipping on her caffe.  She reached out, and set the
mug down, then turned to face him.
     "I've thought about it too," she said. "I know what you do, and I know
it's dangerous.  Every titor said to the enemy.

	Baltar paced the ground around the ship that Karibdis had brought down to
the rondezvous point.  Something wasn't proceeding right, and Baltar knew it.
	The destruction they had witnessed while decending to the surface had was
too great.  This was not the surgically precise strikes he had been
promised would be required to remove the threat of Colonial retaliation.
This looked more like the Cylons had simply conducted saturation bombings
of the planet.
	Most disturbing, however, was his inability to contact members of his own
group.  He tried on all the high-band frequencies, and used all the
designated recognition signals.  None had produced anything more than static.
	And now he was to meet with a Cylon contact, to receive his next
instructions.  Baltar didn't know what was going on, but he intended to
have a few words with the Imperious Leader about being a little
over-zealous in his strikes on the Colonies.
	He knew that he needed to be careful.  It would not take me you leave, I wonder if I ever see you alive
again.  I hate that feeling."  She paused, and took a deep breath.
     "I thought about asking you to transfer back to the regular Service
again.  But I can't do that.  You have to do what you have to do.  It's one
of the things I love about you.
     "Every time you leave, I hate caring so much.  But every time you come
back, I am so happy to see you, it almost makes me forget how worried I get
about you."  She reached out, and took his hand, then pulled him toward her
and gave him a deep kiss.
     "You can take that a 'yes,'" she whispered with her sweet, sweet smile.

5

     "Can you believe it?" Baltar said to Karibdis  as they disembarked the
small ship.  Ahead of him, beyond the lights of the landing field, they
could make out a large number of lights.  Ships were launching and landing,
and large groundcars were moving many people from the ships toward the lights.
     "What is it?" Karibdis asked.
     "I don't know, but I think it is more than the
wrong word to turn the Cylons totally against him, especially those
mentally-slow centurians.  Deciding to play along until he knew just what
had gone wrong, he turned to face the burning city as the Cylons approached.
	"Their destruction is complete?" he asked as they neared him.
	"Command intelligence estimates destruction of the human population at
approximately ninety-two percent," said one centurian.
	"Our forces have taken prisoners near the spacedrome," spoke the other.
"They tell of survivors, who escaped in ships."
	"What ships?  How far can they go?"  Baltar snorted, and turned to face
the armored warriors of the Alliance.  "If a handful of survivors did
indeed escape, they would have neither food nor fuel for a prolonged voyage."
	"The information in not complete.  It is offered in exchange for life."
	Baltar whipped around to the centurian.
	"And what is the standing order for humans from your Imperious Leader?"
	"Extermination!"
	"Then carry out your orders.  If theya place we should check out."  Baltar
started walking, and flagged down one of the groundcars.  He waited until
it stopped, then spoke to the driver through the open door.
     "Where is this going?" he asked.
     "Why, to the hotel, of course," the driver said.  "You have to go
there first, or they won't let you in the casino."
     Casino? Baltar thought.  Hotel?
     "Well, are you getting on, or what?  I've got a scedule to keep!" the
driver said impatiently.
     "Yes, yes, of course," Balter said, his mind racing as he stepped up
to the vehicle.  Karibdis followed, and the pair took a seat.
     The groundcar made stops at two more ships in the landing field,
embarking several more people.  They all seemed to be acting like they were
on vacation, and happy to be herded around in a tourgroup fashion.
     Baltar felt the familiar shudder of the drives of the groundcar idling
down, and when he looked out the window, he saw they had stopped in front
of a large structure strung with multi-c exist, they're doomed."  Baltar
turned back to stare across the bay, and watch Caprica City burn.  As the
centurians walked away, he felt a very unsettling feeling, one that he
didn't get very often.  The feeling that he, Baltar, had been the victim.
That he'd been had.
	At least he now had the Seal of Lords.  That part of the plan could still
be useful, once he searched the worlds, and gathered the survivors.
	He would tell them, truthfully now it seemed, that he, too, had been lied
to by the Cylons.  He would tell them of the late President Adar's last
words, as Adar handed him the medallion.  How Adar told him to flee the
Atlantia, and return to the Colonies.  To save what he could, and rebuild
the great human civilization.  With him as their new leader.  Baltar felt a
surge of power.  He felt that nothing could stop him now.
	Meanwhile, Imperious Leader had some explaining to do.

	No.  It can't be.  Cutler shook his head.  He had wanted to believe that
Baltar had been honest with what tholored lighting.  Everyone on the
car stood up, and began to retrieve small bags and travel items.  Baltar
and Karibdis followed suit, at least until Baltar could figure out what was
going on.
     They followed the crowd into the lobby of the hotel, where a friendly
looking staff member was asking for reservation numbers.
     "I'm sorry, kind gentleman, I'm afraid we don't have any reservation.
We didn't realize, ahh, didn't realize they were required," Baltar said.
     "That's perfectly OK sir.  May I ask what brings you to Carrilon?" the
staffer asked.
     "We are... ahh, supposed to be meeting with some business associates,"
Baltar thought quickly.
     "Oh, yes, business meetings.  Great place for it, if you want my
opinion, sir."  He picked up his electronic notepad, and punched a few
buttons.  "No problem sir, these things happen.  We get this all the time,
you know."  He looked up.  "We have you both a room, over in the second
wing.  That puts you near the pool, the restaurant, with the main casino in
the next wing over.  How will you be paying?"
     Baltar blinked.  For some reason, the thought of payment had not
crossed his mind.
     "Ahhhh, do you take DepositoryCard of the Colonies?"
     "Yes, Sir!  Top of our list!" He replied cheerfully.  Baltar handed
over his card, and the staffer input the numbers into his notepad.
     "Will this be together, or separate?" he asked.
     "Together," Baltar replied.  What the hades, if it is too much, then
Pacino can fork over the cubits.
     He handed the card back to Baltar, along with a small reciept that had
printed out from the notepad.
     "There you go sir, your reciept, and here are your keys," he said, as
he extracted two keys from a pouch on his belt.  "Feel free to enjoy all of
our wonderful facilities, your rooms have a scanner terminal that can tell
you any information you need to know, and if you have any difficulties,
please feel free to contact the front desk."
     "Thank you," Baltar said, almost absentlye Cylons had told him.  He wanted to
think that the man would not have been so foolish as to actually make a
deal with the reptillian monsters.  But it is true.  You just heard it
yourself.  He actually told those things to kill humans!
	In his disbelief, he nearly forgot about the rifle in his hands.  He
gritted his teeth, and once again lined up the crosshairs.  Nothing would
stop him now.  Baltar would pay with his life.
	A Cylon fighter swooped low in the Caprican sky.  The Team brought up
their weapons, and fired a volley at the instrument of their destruction.
	It seemed the Raider was not interested in a small group of humans with
only small-arms to oppose it.  Instead, it seemed to have locked on to the
Team's shuttlecraft, as it opened up with its laser cannons.
	Cutler, intent on making the perfect shot toward Baltar, was oblivious to
the fighter as it shot the grouded shuttle.
	Just as Cutler began to squeeze the trigger, the shuttle exploded.  The
tylium remaining in the fuel tanks .  He still could not quite
figure out what was going on here, but he intended to find out.  Out of
habit, he glanced at the bottom of his reciept.
     Something was wrong.  From the looks of everything he had seen and
heard, this was a top-billed resort, and with that came top price.
Especially for an all inclusive type of resort that this one appeared to
be.  But the bottom line price on the reciept looked to be barely enough
for simple accomodations, the type that were usually located annoyingly
distant from the main attractions.  And the price listed included not one
room, but two.
     Baltar began to get a funny feeling on the back of his neck.
Something did not feel right, but he could not quite put his finger on it.

     After refreshing from their long flight, Baltar and Karibdis met in
the restuarant.  Baltar had  activated his scanner terminal after changing
attire, to try to find some information about the resort they had happened
into.
     Not too surprisingly, he didn't find ignited instantly, sending out a huge
fireball toward the sky.
	The shockwave from the explosion slammed into Cutler, knocking him to the
ground as his shot landed well short of the target.  The pain was almost
too much to bear.  Cutler realized that he'd failed again as he passed out.

24

	Cutler slowly came to, wondering what was memories and what was dreams.
His body felt as if it had been severely banged up.  He opened his eyes,
trying to make out his surroundings.
	He saw he was in a burned-out structure.  He could see the night sky
outside what remained of one wall.  He looked around, seeing more signs of
destruction, then saw Siree near the opening that was once a door.
	"Sss!" he hissed softly.
	Siree turned, then came over to Cutler.
	"Don't worry, you're OK.  The rest are out scouting the area."
	"Where are we?"
	"Just outside the capital.  Looks like the Cylons laid the whole planet to
waste."
	"What happened?" Cutler asked.
	"The shock from the shuttle exploding knocked you omuch useful information.  Of
course, he had no idea what to look for.  What did surprise him, however,
was that all food, drinks, and admission to entertainment was all included
with the price of the room.  The only way this place could maintain a
margin, he thought, was to tilt the casino odds a little further towards
the house.  Not a bad idea, get the tourists here with the inexpensive
rooms, and clean them out at the tables.
     He also wondered about their original mission to Carillon: the tylium
mine.  Pacino had not disclosed much information about it, in fact, the
only thing they were told was that their contact would find them.  Karibdis
also did not know what to make of the whole setup, and the two exchanged
theories as they ate their meal.
     As to be expected in any sort of top billed resort, the food was
remarkably good.  Baltar's only complaint was the waitstaff insisted on
bringing out more portions every time their plates got nearly emptied.
Finally, he simply pushed the servut cold.  We had to
carry you here.  We weren't far, fortunatly.  Deciding on whether to try to
make it to HQ or not."
	Cutler shook his head.
	"Probably nothing left but a crater where the whole base was.  Cylons
securing the planet?"
	Siree shook his head.
	"We've spotted some foot patrols, but they seem to be rounding up people.
Looks like for interrogation.  Raliegh and Dee are following one group now."
	"Probably trying to get more information on those ships they were telling
Baltar about."
	Cutler made himself get up and try to work out the kinks in his muscles.
The bruises would hurt for a while, but he figured he'd be OK.
	He found his weapons, making sure they were charged and ready.  He and
Siree took to watching for the others to get back.  Zeta was the first to
return.
	"How's it look out there?  Can we get to the base?"
	"No chance.  The tinheads nailed it pretty good, plus landed a bunch of
ships there, including a couple of troop transports, to fan out and kill
survivors.  Thing ware away, and left the table.
     Baltar and Karibdis made their way from the dining area, and toward
the area that had been called the casino.  After a quick survey, Karibdis
spotted a tammani table, and disappeared into the crowd.
     Baltar, however, believing himself to be somewhat of a con man, chose
to only play a few low-stakes rounds at various tables.  Much to his
surprise, he actually came out ahead in the end.  He decided to quit while
he was ahead, and moved to the bar.
     "So what'll it be, sweetie?" a woman's voice asked.
     "Ahh...how about ambrosa?" Baltar replied.
     "Coming right up!" she said cheerfully.
     Baltar turned to survey the room, and spotted Karibdis.  He was
looking quite pleased, and accepting a large stack of cubits from the
tammani dealer.
     "Here you go, darling," the bartender said as she placed a glass on a
small square napkin.  Balter dropped a few cubits into the tip slot,
earning a bright smile from her.
     "So what brings you to Care only way we'll get in there is with an armored brigade, and
maybe not even then!"
	When Raliegh and Degeria returned, the situation looked even more grim.
	"They took everyone they could find and lined them up.  Then one of those
bulb-heads, the ILs, would ask if anyone knew anything about escaping
ships.  When no one answered, the centurians gunned down several.  Seemed
everyone was anxious to talk then.  They got killed anyway."
	Cutler was silent.  One thought was in his mind: Tisa.
	"What about the Civil Defense buildings?"
	"I don't know, we didn't get that close to the city," replied Degeria.
	Cutler stood up, and painfully strapped on his weapons and what few
supplies that had survived.
	"That's where I'm headed!"  He picked up his laser rifle, and nearly
stumbled out the door.  The others gathered what they could, and quickly
moved out with him.


	From the looks of it, the Cylons had concentrated serveral waves of fire
on the Civil Defense complex.  Most of it lay in smoking rubblillon?" she asked him.
     "Hmmm?  Oh, business.  I'm meeting a business associate," Baltar said.
     "Ahh, yes.  Great spot for business meetings, I think."  She said.
"What's your name?"
     "I am Baltar, from the Picea Colony."
     "Thea.  Welcome to Carrilon!" she said, as she extended her hand to
him.  Putting on the show of a well-to-do businessman, he accepted her
hand, and placed a small kiss on the back of it.
     "Pleased to make your acquaintance." he said, enjoying the slight
redness that came into her cheeks.  His eyes traveled downward slightly,
spotting a nametag.  "Calia."
     She started to say something else, but a strange sight caught Baltar's
attention.  It was an insectoid being, the likes of which Baltar had never
seen before.  It walked upright on two legs, leaving four limbs to act as
arms.  A stretched net seemed to be the only garment it wore, and it
quickly moved into a service passage to the rear of the casino floor.
     "What was that?"  Baltar asked Thea.
e.  Cutler
wordlessly surveyed the destruction, then turned and quickly marched out of
the center.
	Raliegh quickly caught up to him.
	"What now, Cut?"
	"You all can fan out.  Find your families, whatever you need.  Looks like
we've lost this round, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it!"
	"What about you?"
	Cutler stopped, and turned to face his team.
	"I'm finding Tisa.  Then I'm finding my family.  Then, we are all going to
get out of this mess, and try to survive."
	"Where?  Just where on this planet will you find where the Cylons won't?"
Zeta demanded.  "What will you do then?"
	"I'll decide that after I know everyone is safe!"
	"And what if they're not?  Shouldn't we be trying to find someone to link
up with?  Orders?  Maybe we can rally and kick them off this planet!"
	"Rally where?  All the battlestars that weren't out on deep patrol, at
least a secton away, or torn apart in the shipyards, were at Cimtar to get
slaughtered.  The base here is trashed.  If you think Caprica i     "What?  Oh, that.  That was one of the Ovions.  They own this place,
Hades, they own the whole planet.  Don't worry, aside from the odd looks,
they are pretty nice.  Keep to themselves, and honestly, I've never had a
better employer."  She leaned over the bar, and lowered her voice.  "They
don't want a lot of people to know this, but they also run the tylium mine
under the surface."
     Ah ha! Baltar thought.  Now we are getting somewhere.  He felt it was
always important to go into any business arrangement knowing as much as he
could about who and what he was dealing with.  Perhaps this Calia was worth
getting to know a bit better.
     "Doesn't seem too busy tonight," he observed.
     "No, it's the off-season.  Not a lot of tourists make it out this far.
 Most of them head to Aquarius, since it is thier warm season now.  All
those beaches, you know."
     They made small talk for a bit, between orders.  Baltar had another
glass of ambrosa, partly to kill time until he could try to get s the only
planet they Cylons pounded, you are deluded!
	"Maybe there is something to those escaping ships rumors.  Maybe they are
just trying to say something that will save their life.  But by the Lords,
I'm not going to run out of here without even looking for my family!"
Cutler started to turn, then turned back.
	"Consider this my resignation from the Colonial service.  Sorry, I'm
keeping the weapons I was issued!  You can file a prosecution if you want!"
 With that, he turned and walked away.

	A short while later, he found the remains of Tisa's apartment.  It, too,
looked as if it had taken at least one direct laser bomb.  He poked around,
looking for any kind of sign that anyone had been there, either during or
after the bombing.
	He didn't find any bodies, but then he knew that didn't mean much.  He
knew that Tisa would have been at work at the beginning of the attack.
	Cutler made his way through the burned-out building, looking for some sign
that she might have been there and left. more
information from her.
     After his third drink, however, he decided that it would be nice to
get a little more than information from this woman.
     "So what time does your shift end?" he asked.  "I would love to share
a meal with you."

The next morning, Baltar used the link in his accomodations to order caffe
from room-service.  He nursed the pounding in his head with some mild
painkillers he found in the sanitary facilities.  His head felt like a
skybus had parked on it for a few centons.  Must have a lot stronger
ambrosa here than he was used to.
     He gathered his bearings, and realized he was not alone in his room.
The bartender from the casino was still asleep in the room's single bed.
Oh, yes, Calia, he thought.
     He sipped his hot caffe, and activated the scanner console.  He tried
to do a search for some more information, but once again only finding
travellator brochure-type information.
     "You won't find much in there," a sleepy voice said behind him.
     Baltar  He found none.
	As he moved through what had been the bedroom, the remains of a small
glass cylinder caught his eye.  He reached down to pick it up, and he
caught the familiar fragrance of Tisa's nameless perfume.  Cutler had a
fleeting thought that he might finally learn its name, just to see that the
bottle had been shattered where the name had once been.
	"Still not going to tell me, are you?" He said aloud with a smile.
"Always the mystery."
	Cutler turned to once again face the destruction of his world.



	"And that, Starbuck, is the story of what I know about Baltar and Karibdis."
	Starbuck was silent for several microns.
	"Really makes one wonder, doesn't it?  Here we are, all but wiped out, all
because of the politics and greed of a few men and women!"
	"And if I'd just pulled that trigger the first time, we would probably
still be at home right now," Cutler said.
	"You couldn't know that!  You only knew what they told you."
	"Still, why didn't I make a stronger case?"
	"Ah," Staturned, slightly red-faced.  He felt like a kid who had been
caught looking at things he shouldn't have been.  She smiled warmly at him,
then moved across the bed toward him.
     Baltar retrieved the decanter of caffe from the room-service tray, and
poured her a cup.  She accepted it, and again smiled.
     "So tell me," Baltar began, hoping to sound like he was merely
tourist-curious, "just how does this place make a profit?  I mean, the
rates are far less expensive than lower-class resorts I've been to, the
food and drinks are free, and the odds at the casino seem to be way in
favor of the players."
     Calia shook her head.  "I don't really know.  Everyone I talk to seems
so amazed that everything costs so little.  The only thing I can figure is
that the Ovions make so much money off the tylium, they can afford to take
a loss on the resort."
     "But why?"  Baltar was seriously beginning to suspect there was a lot
more to this planet than a great time.  "They could easily double the
raterbuck brightened, "That must have been what that whole mess was
with you, right after Baltar surrendered?"
	"What would that mess have been?"  Cutler smiled.
	"I don't know, Athena wouldn't tell me anything about it, no matter how
much I tried to talk her into it.  Figured it was something with Iblis, the
way he scrambled all our brains."
	"Well, that could certainly be the case.  Meanwhile, it's late."
	Starbuck consulted his chronometer.
	"Yes, it is.  Going to call it a cylce?"
	"I think so," Cutler said as they left the turret control.
	"Thanks for the story," Starbuck said.  "Have a good night."
	"You too," Cutler replied as he turned to walk to his quarters.
	He hoped that someday he could come to terms with himself over the
destruction of the Colonies.  He hoped that he could stop blaming himself
for the events, stop blaming himself for the likely death of his fiancé.
	He doubted it would ever happen.s, and use standard odds at the tables.  They would still be breaking
down the bulkheads to get here."
     She shook her head, and said nothing.  Baltar turned over every angle
he could think of from his own business knowledge, and nothing made sense.
     The comm link on the console began flashing.  Baltar stared at it
curiously, then hit the 'accept' key.
     A slightly distorted voice came through.
     "Baltar?  The music is quite well-performed."
     Baltar was instantly alert.  This was the code-phrase Pacino had given
him before he and Karibdis left Picea.
     "But they play it too loud," Baltar replied with the counter-phrase.
     "You want to learn what you came her for?  Get your partner, and take
the third turboshaft on the left from your room."  The connection broke
before Baltar could reply.
     He looked at Calia apologetically.
     "I'm sorry, my dear, but that was my business associate."
     She looked somewhat confused, and just a little scared.  She assured
him that