A number of years ago, J.D. Rich and I wrote a BG/V cross-universe story called "Survive the Alliance" in which the Colonials reached Earth, only to discover that the Visitors were already here. Also appearing in that story were the A-Team, the original Airwolf crew, Knight Rider, and a few others. Fair warning: A lot happened, with a lot of characters, and I hope this isn't too unintelligible to those who haven't seen the first story. Yes, Starbuck met Faceman. We always planned a sequel. And that's "The State of the War" tonight. The State of the War by Sharon Monroe Prologue: Poor Terra. How could she know? For thousands of years she had been one little world alone. A myriad of human civilizations had risen and fallen over the millennia, unknown and uncared about by the rest of the galaxy. In her isolation, she spun fantasies about what might be "out there," never really expecting that "out there" might come "down here." *The Visitors came.* They appeared her. * * * Baltar sat on his pedestal, contemplating nothing. He found his attention often wandered into darkness since reaching system Sol. What was it, he mused, that made it so difficult to concentrate just now? He was in reach of Earth, in reach of his enemies. His patrols moved in close enough to tell him that Adama was there, that this was Earth's system, that all the humans were gathered in one place. The patrols also told him the Sirians were there, enemy of the Cylons even more anciently than the humans. The inner system swarmed with fighters and patrols of both races... His head lolled back, and he stared up at the ceiling. It was empty, shadowed. Cylons didn't need light as humans did, to reveal their world, to enjoy it. Maybe he should order something painted there. Maybe a starfield, to let him feel he sat outdoors on a clear evening. Maybe an ever-changing series of the finest old Colonial masters, artists and illustrators, to remind him of the greatness hisA number of years ago, J.D. Rich and I wrote a BG/V cross-universe story called "Survive the Alliance" in which the Colonials reached Earth, only to discover that the Visitors were already here. Also appearing in that story were the A-Team, the original Airwolf crew, Knight Rider, and a few others. Fair warning: A lot happened, with a lot of characters, and I hope this isn't too unintelligible to those who haven't seen the first story. Yes, Starbuck met Faceman. We always planned a sequel. And that's "The State of the War" tonight. The State of the War by Sharon Monroe Prologue: Poor Terra. How could she know? For thousands of years she had been one little world alone. A myriad of human civilizations had risen and fallen over the millennia, unknown and uncared about by the rest of the galaxy. In her isolation, she spun fantasies about what might be "out there," never really expecting that "out there" might come "down here." *The Visitors came.* They appeared so human, and freely offered gifts of technology and friendship in exchange for the natural resources they needed. The Visitors, or Sirians, were engaged in a dreadful stellar conflict against an enemy bent on their destruction, and humbly asked only what we could give. Gradually, humans began to realize the true nature of the Visitors. They were reptilian, not at all human, wearing human faces and taking familiar names, but alien to their core. They intended to harvest more of Earth's "natural resources" than they admitted -- our oceans and our populations were what they valued most, to quench the thirsts and sate the appetites of their embattled troopers on distant planets. Resistance groups formed. Dr. Julie Parrish, a scientist, and Michael Donovan, a journalist, formed the core of the L.A. Resistance, with the help of men and women like Ham Tyler and Chris Farber, mercenaries with too many years of expeience; Dr. Maxwell and his daughter Robin, both victims, in different ways, t race had achieved. Maybe just a huge sensor screen of the empty space around him... His stare went vacant and his eyes unfocused. He stared at nothing. A centon passed. Another. A centar. "By-your-command." The mechanically droned words gradually penetrated. Baltar blinked, wrenched back to reality. He jerked his head, realizing his neck ached intolerably. His heart was pounding and he felt his pulse at his own throat, as if he'd been racing in fear. He tried to catch a deep breath, but his lungs felt squeezed, almost unable to snag oxygen from the air. Had the unexpected interruption had that great an effect? "What is it, Centurion?" "We-have-reached-the-specified-coordinates-again-Commander-Baltar. Shall-we-attack?" He had a disturbed sense of time passing. It nibbled at his mind, growing in dark corners and peering out at him with deep blue orbs, mocking him... He would not be distracted this time, he would not let the fear grow any more, he would no so human, and freely offered gifts of technology and friendship in exchange for the natural resources they needed. The Visitors, or Sirians, were engaged in a dreadful stellar conflict against an enemy bent on their destruction, and humbly asked only what we could give. Gradually, humans began to realize the true nature of the Visitors. They were reptilian, not at all human, wearing human faces and taking familiar names, but alien to their core. They intended to harvest more of Earth's "natural resources" than they admitted -- our oceans and our populations were what they valued most, to quench the thirsts and sate the appetites of their embattled troopers on distant planets. Resistance groups formed. Dr. Julie Parrish, a scientist, and Michael Donovan, a journalist, formed the core of the L.A. Resistance, with the help of men and women like Ham Tyler and Chris Farber, mercenaries with too many years of expeience; Dr. Maxwell and his daughter Robin, both victims, in different ways, to alien designs; Kyle Bates, whose father owned Science Frontiers and bargained with the enemy until his death; Steve Maitland, a scientist who risked appearing to collaborate with the Visitors to disrupt their experiments and help his people. The Resistance groups tried to expose the true nature and purpose of the Visitors, and fought them whenever they could. Many humans died in the struggle -- Harmony, Elias, Ruby, and others. Some faced more frightening fates -- Robin, an unwilling participant in a Visitor experiment, became pregnant and gave birth to a hybrid Visitor/human child. The child, Elizabeth, grew rapidly and displayed telepathic and telekinetic abilities that tipped the balance in more than one battle. Finally gaining access to Visitor technology, the Resistance sent a signal into space, hoping to alert the enemies of the Visitors to their plight, praying that other race, the enemy of Earth's enemy, would come to Earth's assistance. All was not easy among the Visitors. t let the chance for eternal glory pass him by again. "Attack." * * * Elizabeth frowned, then dropped her head to her hands, feeling the headache grow. The light blue aura surrounding her darkened, and for a second, small lightning flares angrily skimmed the surface of that azure sphere. Only one of the advisors present dared approach her. "Elizabeth?" he asked with the worried familiarity of old friendship. She glanced up, and the blueness faded, leaving only a very tired-looking young woman. She smiled wanly. "Willie. I'm so tired, Willie, it takes so much energy, and I'm still learning..." She sighed, then stood up. "I need to rest." She took Koeriy's arm, but paused long enough to announce to the commander of her ship, "Lloyd, send warning to the others. The Cylons are coming, now. Prepare for battle." "By your command, my Leader." * * * Cassiopeia and McIntyre settled Athena into a comfortable chair, and Adama handed her back the baby. Athena reaco alien designs; Kyle Bates, whose father owned Science Frontiers and bargained with the enemy until his death; Steve Maitland, a scientist who risked appearing to collaborate with the Visitors to disrupt their experiments and help his people. The Resistance groups tried to expose the true nature and purpose of the Visitors, and fought them whenever they could. Many humans died in the struggle -- Harmony, Elias, Ruby, and others. Some faced more frightening fates -- Robin, an unwilling participant in a Visitor experiment, became pregnant and gave birth to a hybrid Visitor/human child. The child, Elizabeth, grew rapidly and displayed telepathic and telekinetic abilities that tipped the balance in more than one battle. Finally gaining access to Visitor technology, the Resistance sent a signal into space, hoping to alert the enemies of the Visitors to their plight, praying that other race, the enemy of Earth's enemy, would come to Earth's assistance. All was not easy among the Visitors. Some, like Commander Martin and Trooper Willie, couldn't be part of the slaughter of an intelligent species. They formed a fifth column to fight against their own people, risking -- and sometimes losing -- their lives to help the humans survive. Internal ambitions proved deadly as well; the scientist Diana took command of the invading fleet after assassinating her superiors. Captured, she managed to escape and murder Martin, blaming his death on the Resistance in another ploy to discredit them. Her personal feud with Security Commander Lydia, one of her own officers, ending in the poisoning of Diana's unwanted husband, a very high-ranking nobleman named Charles, kinsman to their Leader. Each of the women accused the other. Inspector General Philip arrived, sent to judge between Lydia and Diana and to assume command of Visitor forces. He was also Martin's brother. He too became a member of the fifth column, after discovering the true facts of his brother's death. The struggle for domihed out her arms with a smile to accept her daughter, cooing softly in her throat. Ileen was less than a day old, but her now-definitely-sea-green eyes already seemed alert and solemn, focusing easily. She seemed older in other ways, too. She had grown noticeably over the day, and now appeared to be several weeks old. Since her first cries in Adama's arms, she had been completely silent, watching everything, focusing on everything. Adama stayed beside his daughter, smiling broadly himself. Douglas took a guard position behind Athena's chair, opposite Adama. The two Earth soldiers who'd been guarding him stepped to the door at the Commander's gesture. Ileen stared past her mother up at the Visitor male, then reached one hand for him. "Douglas, she wants us both," Athena murmured up at him. Douglas broke into the first real smile Cassiopeia remembered as he dropped to one knee beside the chair, holding out his hand to Ileen's. The child grasped one finger. Cassie felt a quick Some, like Commander Martin and Trooper Willie, couldn't be part of the slaughter of an intelligent species. They formed a fifth column to fight against their own people, risking -- and sometimes losing -- their lives to help the humans survive. Internal ambitions proved deadly as well; the scientist Diana took command of the invading fleet after assassinating her superiors. Captured, she managed to escape and murder Martin, blaming his death on the Resistance in another ploy to discredit them. Her personal feud with Security Commander Lydia, one of her own officers, ending in the poisoning of Diana's unwanted husband, a very high-ranking nobleman named Charles, kinsman to their Leader. Each of the women accused the other. Inspector General Philip arrived, sent to judge between Lydia and Diana and to assume command of Visitor forces. He was also Martin's brother. He too became a member of the fifth column, after discovering the true facts of his brother's death. The struggle for domination continued, with Diana and her lover James plotting against Philip. Lydia worked for her own ends, but most often sided with Philip to keep a balance, especially after Philip saved her brother Nigel's life. The situation disintegrated until Philip had no choice but to call for the intervention of the Sirian Leader himself. The Leader took Elizabeth, the Starchild, to be his consort, and arrested Diana and James. But Diana had one more plot: a bomb in the Leader's shuttle, which killed the Leader, Elizabeth, and Kyle, who loved the girl and refused to give her up. *The Colonials came.* Far across the stars, twelve human tribes had occupied twelve worlds, the Colonies of Kobol. In a great war lasting a full millennium, they were defeated by a metallic foe determined to bring "order" to the universe. A small group of survivors made their way back to Kobol, their mother world, and learned of another tribe of humans who lived on a planet called Earth. Among the survivors wh shiver between her shoulder blades at the sight. They looked so much like a family. Both parents' attention on their baby, and even Adama was smiling... Only Apollo stood back, indecision on his face. Cassiopeia moved beside him and touched his hand in understanding. He took hers in return, in gratitude. "She's strong," the Visitor said, feeling Ileen's grip on his finger -- unnecessarily; all of the humans knew that human babies of a day's age were incapable of grasping that way, with strength and apparent purpose. "Yes, she may seem strong, but I suspect Ileen and Athena need to rest," Salik announced in a tone that would accept no argument. "And that means we're keeping this visit short. It's been a tough day for both of them. And the way this baby's growing, she needs to eat." "Commander Adama?" interrupted the strong but respectful voice of the chief nurse. "You've had a call from your battlestar." With a slight frown, Adama stroked his infant granddaughter's thick nation continued, with Diana and her lover James plotting against Philip. Lydia worked for her own ends, but most often sided with Philip to keep a balance, especially after Philip saved her brother Nigel's life. The situation disintegrated until Philip had no choice but to call for the intervention of the Sirian Leader himself. The Leader took Elizabeth, the Starchild, to be his consort, and arrested Diana and James. But Diana had one more plot: a bomb in the Leader's shuttle, which killed the Leader, Elizabeth, and Kyle, who loved the girl and refused to give her up. *The Colonials came.* Far across the stars, twelve human tribes had occupied twelve worlds, the Colonies of Kobol. In a great war lasting a full millennium, they were defeated by a metallic foe determined to bring "order" to the universe. A small group of survivors made their way back to Kobol, their mother world, and learned of another tribe of humans who lived on a planet called Earth. Among the survivors who made the long and perilous journey were Commander Adama, (usually) acknowledged leader of the fleet, a man with enough vision to lead a nation to sanctuary; Captain Apollo, his son and premier Warrior among the fighter pilots, still haunted by the loss of his wife Serina; Lieutenant Starbuck, brash and womanizing, of unswerving loyalty to his friend and his commander, with luck enough for two; Lieutenant Boomer, steady and dependable, a stabilizing influence on his friends; Colonel Tigh, second in command and Adama's staunchest supporter; Lieutenant Athena, Adama's daughter and bridge officer; Lieutenant Sheba, a hero's daghter, determined to live up to her father's glory; Siress Tinia, a civilian member of the Council of Twelve, who came to understand the military very well; Flight Officer Omega, the steadiest of Adama's bridge officers; Dr. Wilker, a scientific genius whose enthusiasm for technology sometimes went too far; Dr. Salik, friend and chief medic; Cassiopeia, socialator-turned-med dark hair once, then left the room. After a second's hesitation, Apollo followed. Bestowing a smile on his patients, Salik fell into step with the Captain and left as well. "Do you need anything?" Cassiopeia asked her one-time rival. It didn't look like Athena even noticed until the guards took Douglas away again. Then her expression clouded and her smile faded. Cassie brought a little juice -- Ileen seemed quite hungry, even after nursing, and Cassie knew Athena would need some rest to replenish herself before she could take care of a child. Watching as the other woman fed the child, Cassie felt a strange ache in her arms. she concluded ruefully. Her thoughts wandered. Starbuck had said he couldn't settle down until they got to Earth...there had been an unspoken implication that she would be part of that settling down, with stronger hints from the old wagerer, Chameleon. But she'd barely seen Starbuck in months, and hadn't seen him at all in, who made the long and perilous journey were Commander Adama, (usually) acknowledged leader of the fleet, a man with enough vision to lead a nation to sanctuary; Captain Apollo, his son and premier Warrior among the fighter pilots, still haunted by the loss of his wife Serina; Lieutenant Starbuck, brash and womanizing, of unswerving loyalty to his friend and his commander, with luck enough for two; Lieutenant Boomer, steady and dependable, a stabilizing influence on his friends; Colonel Tigh, second in command and Adama's staunchest supporter; Lieutenant Athena, Adama's daughter and bridge officer; Lieutenant Sheba, a hero's daghter, determined to live up to her father's glory; Siress Tinia, a civilian member of the Council of Twelve, who came to understand the military very well; Flight Officer Omega, the steadiest of Adama's bridge officers; Dr. Wilker, a scientific genius whose enthusiasm for technology sometimes went too far; Dr. Salik, friend and chief medic; Cassiopeia, socialator-turned-med tech; Boxey, Apollo's young son with a penchant for mischief; Warriors Jolly, Greenbean, Bojay, and Giles, the mainstays of Blue Squadron; and many others. The Colonials intercepted a communication signal. It was the message Parrish and Donovan had sent. They hurried to Earth, afraid the human reunion would be too late. *The Cylons came.* Under the leadership of the human traitor Baltar, the Cylons who had devastated the human Colonies followed the survivors, intent on their utter extermination. They, too, intercepted the signal. They, too, found Earth. Baltar plotted to make the world his new seat of power, the farthest, most independent capital of the Cylon Empire. He prepared to attack. The raids drove the aliens into a near-frenzy, for the Visitors and the Cylons were old acquaintances. The Visitors were the descendants of the beings who had created the Cylons -- and been all but destroyed by them. The reptiles and the machines had been in conflict for thousands of yeaat, three weeks now? Of course, she'd been hidden away up in that cabin with Athena and Juliet Parrish, when had there been a chance? She sighed, shaking herself away from those thoughts. Starbuck hadn't said anything, the entire time they'd been on Earth, to suggest he was seriously considering formalizing a relationship with any one person; his behavior was entirely opposite, almost frantically intent on other women. And she'd always told herself she would never force the issue, with any man... Athena kept glancing toward the door at odd moments, as if subconsciously looking for someone, or waiting for someone to return. Douglas, she suspected. Athena had been tied to him so strongly over the course of her pregnancy, and the link hadn't dissolved with Ileen's birth, if this past day was any indication. "Ileen wants meat," Athena suddenly announced. "What?!" Cassie asked in shock. "But...but she has no teeth!" Athena seemed to notice Cassiopeia's presence for the first time.tech; Boxey, Apollo's young son with a penchant for mischief; Warriors Jolly, Greenbean, Bojay, and Giles, the mainstays of Blue Squadron; and many others. The Colonials intercepted a communication signal. It was the message Parrish and Donovan had sent. They hurried to Earth, afraid the human reunion would be too late. *The Cylons came.* Under the leadership of the human traitor Baltar, the Cylons who had devastated the human Colonies followed the survivors, intent on their utter extermination. They, too, intercepted the signal. They, too, found Earth. Baltar plotted to make the world his new seat of power, the farthest, most independent capital of the Cylon Empire. He prepared to attack. The raids drove the aliens into a near-frenzy, for the Visitors and the Cylons were old acquaintances. The Visitors were the descendants of the beings who had created the Cylons -- and been all but destroyed by them. The reptiles and the machines had been in conflict for thousands of years, in a war that would not end until one or the other had been destroyed. But the humans were trapped between them... On Earth, Philip made an astonishing decision, and offered peace to the humans -- true peace, *pretanama*, as his people understood it. But he would not take the title of Leader, fearing such a claim would provoke a civil war among the Sirians that would destroy them and the humans as well. Lydia supported the plan, mostly to protect her brother, who had volunteered to serve as a hostage to the humans while the two sides negotiated. A new force entered the story -- the Renegades, who supported Diana's plans to defeat and destroy the humans. They rescued Diana and James from captivity. The pair immediately began plotting to take over Science Frontiers by replacing Julie Parrish with Juliet, one of their own scientists. The first Colonial patrol over Earth, Apollo and Starbuck, was shot down. Apollo was captured by Diana's Renegades. Her plans soon included breed She blinked up at her former rival. "But she wants it," Athena repeated as though it were a perfectly ordinary and reasonable request. "Day-old babies don't want meat! They can't even chew it, much less digest it!" she protested. The door swung open with a small creak, getting both women's attention. Captain Apollo stepped back into the room. Glad of the interruption, Cassie moved toward him. "What was the urgent call for your father?" Apollo stared past her. "He had to leave. But he told me to bring the baby back to the -Galactica- right away, for her own safety." Stunned, Cassiopeia glanced at Athena. "But that wasn't what he said ten minutes ago--" "There've been...developments. We've received word that the Renegades may try to reach the baby. We have to keep her safe. Don't we, Athena?" he asked more loudly. The other woman's eyes narrowed, and her shoulders curled protectively over Ileen. Suddenly puzzled, Cassie glanced from brother to sister and bacrs, in a war that would not end until one or the other had been destroyed. But the humans were trapped between them... On Earth, Philip made an astonishing decision, and offered peace to the humans -- true peace, *pretanama*, as his people understood it. But he would not take the title of Leader, fearing such a claim would provoke a civil war among the Sirians that would destroy them and the humans as well. Lydia supported the plan, mostly to protect her brother, who had volunteered to serve as a hostage to the humans while the two sides negotiated. A new force entered the story -- the Renegades, who supported Diana's plans to defeat and destroy the humans. They rescued Diana and James from captivity. The pair immediately began plotting to take over Science Frontiers by replacing Julie Parrish with Juliet, one of their own scientists. The first Colonial patrol over Earth, Apollo and Starbuck, was shot down. Apollo was captured by Diana's Renegades. Her plans soon included breeding a second Starchild from the "converted" Warrior and using knowledge of the Colonials to advance her own ambition and hunger for rvenge. Starbuck, meanwhile, was taken prisoner by the Resistance and delivered to Philip. Adama finally sent Tigh to speak to the Visitors as representative of the Colonials. One of his aides was Athena. Upon discovering her identity, Diana kidnaped her as well, to be the mother of the new Starchild -- for the hybrid cross worked only with human female, Visitor male. The Resistance searched for the Renegades and their captives. After the kidnaping, it was only Starbuck's confirmation that Philip was trustworthy that led a dubious Tigh to arrange a meeting between the Colonial and Visitor commanders. Before anything could be decided, there was an unexpected development. Somehow, Elizabeth was alive, and she and Kyle were safe on Earth. She summoned Willie and Philip to her as she underwent another astounding metamorphosis -- for Elizabeth was to be thek again. There was something unusual in Athena's glare -- not for the first time since this hellish situation began, she had to admit, but there was definite hostility in Athena's icy blue-green eyes. And why did Apollo stare as if he'd never seen his sister before, or the child? The situation had been difficult for the entire family, and she knew how much of a strain it had been on Apollo, to see his sister pregnant by a Visitor, when he had spent weeks as their prisoner, believing one of them to be his wife, Serina. He'd been hesitant at the cabin, distant all the way back to the city. But there was definitely something wrong-- "Athena, give me the baby," Apollo commanded. "No." She clutched Ileen even closer. "The Commander ordered it." "No," she repeated more defiantly. "You're not taking my baby." "I'm not *taking* your baby...we're moving her to a safer location, where she can be properly guarded. You can come too -- you're more than welcome, she'd be better off witing a second Starchild from the "converted" Warrior and using knowledge of the Colonials to advance her own ambition and hunger for rvenge. Starbuck, meanwhile, was taken prisoner by the Resistance and delivered to Philip. Adama finally sent Tigh to speak to the Visitors as representative of the Colonials. One of his aides was Athena. Upon discovering her identity, Diana kidnaped her as well, to be the mother of the new Starchild -- for the hybrid cross worked only with human female, Visitor male. The Resistance searched for the Renegades and their captives. After the kidnaping, it was only Starbuck's confirmation that Philip was trustworthy that led a dubious Tigh to arrange a meeting between the Colonial and Visitor commanders. Before anything could be decided, there was an unexpected development. Somehow, Elizabeth was alive, and she and Kyle were safe on Earth. She summoned Willie and Philip to her as she underwent another astounding metamorphosis -- for Elizabeth was to be the next Leader of the Sirians. Julie Parrish, now a prisoner, learned who Apollo and Athena really were. Further discovering that Serina, the woman introduced to her as Apollo's wife, was actually a Visitor, she found a way to break the Warrior's "conversion." When Resistance fighters attacked as the prisoners were being moved to a new location, he led the other prisoners -- his pregnant sister Athena, the Terran scientist Julie Parrish, the wounded Mirella Lincoln of the super-secret agency known as the Firm, and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy of the -Airwolf- crew -- to freedom. The cost was agonizing; he had to kill the Visitor Serina, the image of his dead wife, to save their lives. They were eventually discovered by the Resistance and brought safely to Los Angeles. The Visitor fifth column had not been idle; several motherships, earlier dispatched with human cargo to distant sectors, returned to Earth after mutinies. Some of them freely if secretly gave their technology to human enclaves, h her mother, and that way we can protect you both--" "Who...are...you?" Apollo stepped forward, his expression hard. Cassiopeia intervened, trying to defuse the growing anger. "Just a centon, you two. You're family, remember? We can resolve this, let's just call Commander Adama back, the three of you talk this out--" Apollo backhanded Cassiopeia, sending the woman halfway across the room to wind up sprawled across a table, the flimsy table then collapsing under her. Athena screamed as Apollo pulled a laser. The door burst open behind him. Apollo whirled as Douglas all but flew into the room. Hissing, the newcomer threw himself on the human, and the two went down to the floor, locked in snarling fury, rolling together. The weapon flew against the wall, discharging one energy bolt that shattered the window. Cassie picked herself out of the broken table pieces. Stunned, her entire body just starting to ache, she stared in disbelief. "Diana," she heard Athena say, a next Leader of the Sirians. Julie Parrish, now a prisoner, learned who Apollo and Athena really were. Further discovering that Serina, the woman introduced to her as Apollo's wife, was actually a Visitor, she found a way to break the Warrior's "conversion." When Resistance fighters attacked as the prisoners were being moved to a new location, he led the other prisoners -- his pregnant sister Athena, the Terran scientist Julie Parrish, the wounded Mirella Lincoln of the super-secret agency known as the Firm, and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy of the -Airwolf- crew -- to freedom. The cost was agonizing; he had to kill the Visitor Serina, the image of his dead wife, to save their lives. They were eventually discovered by the Resistance and brought safely to Los Angeles. The Visitor fifth column had not been idle; several motherships, earlier dispatched with human cargo to distant sectors, returned to Earth after mutinies. Some of them freely if secretly gave their technology to human enclaves, and stood ready to ignite war among the Visitors, the civil war that Philip feared. Diana's last plot to spark that very war was thwarted by the Starchild, and the criminals were again taken into custody, where it was discovered that James and the alien scientist Juliet had mated without Diana's knowledge. The new Leader, sensing the nearness of Baltar and the Cylons, offered the Renegade Visitors their lives if they would assist in the defense of Earth. Juliet accepted the offer to save herself and her new husband. Diana accepted it to gain future revenge. The Terrans, Colonials, and Visitors were more-or-less at peace, although pockets of Renegades and much mistrust still existed. Their grand council ended with the proposal that the Terrans build their own battlestars, and name the first one -Enterprise-. Meanwhile, Elizabeth prepared to visit the Sirian Homeworld for official Investiture as Leader, leaving Philip and Lydia in charge of Visitor forces in the Terran system. Before nd her blood froze. Apollo had been a prisoner of that Visitor witch, forcibly seduced through that twisted "attitude adjustment" torture, even worse than Athena -- was he obeying her again? Had there always been some subconscious command to wait for the baby, to take it? What else could explain Apollo trying to take his sister's half-alien child, at laser point? She got back to her feet and staggered toward the door to call for help-- And fell into the arms of Apollo. She stared at him for a second, then rebounded with a shriek. Her mind refused to reconcile what her senses told her -- *two* Apollos...? Captain Apollo and Commander Adama stood in the doorway, appalled, staring. Douglas and the other Apollo grappled for purchase, clawing, biting, trying to get the right distance to deliver a death blow. Then the Visitor, physically the stronger, threw the human to his back on the floor. As the stunned trio at the door watched, he brought both fists up, and with a triumphant grand stood ready to ignite war among the Visitors, the civil war that Philip feared. Diana's last plot to spark that very war was thwarted by the Starchild, and the criminals were again taken into custody, where it was discovered that James and the alien scientist Juliet had mated without Diana's knowledge. The new Leader, sensing the nearness of Baltar and the Cylons, offered the Renegade Visitors their lives if they would assist in the defense of Earth. Juliet accepted the offer to save herself and her new husband. Diana accepted it to gain future revenge. The Terrans, Colonials, and Visitors were more-or-less at peace, although pockets of Renegades and much mistrust still existed. Their grand council ended with the proposal that the Terrans build their own battlestars, and name the first one -Enterprise-. Meanwhile, Elizabeth prepared to visit the Sirian Homeworld for official Investiture as Leader, leaving Philip and Lydia in charge of Visitor forces in the Terran system. Before she left, however, she promised Athena that the child she carried would be a strength to the new alliance, and that between them, their peoples would survive. And that's the state of the war tonight. Chapter One: First Flight The large, empty expanse of metal and vacuum was as dark and silent as only space could be. Suddenly, out of nowhere, lights flooded the chamber. Their brightness illuminated its triple deck, with the railing-encased dais in the middle and the huge starscreen occupying an entire wall. There were numerous consoles scattered about, their cavities and boards waiting to be filled with equipment, the monitors that would operate the huge vessel and its weaponry, send its messages far across space, and pass along the data of its computers and sensors. It was an awe-inspiring sight. From a turbolift concealed behind one of the large monitor panels, a handful of tan-and-silver space-suited figures stepped into view. They trod with the careful gait of weightleowl, dropped onto his enemy, smashed his fists into the other man's face. Apollo went still, face shattered by the force of the twin blows. The fight was over. For several seconds, no one could think, much less say anything. "I'll...call a doctor," Cassie said tremulously. "Don't bother," Athena called to her. "He's dead." There was no regret in her tone as she stood up and moved toward the others, grimacing in some pain. The warriors stepped into the room, weapons drawn, as cautiously as if entering a mine field. "He was a Visitor?" Apollo hazarded. Douglas stood. Both warriors aimed their lasers at him, but he made no further violent moves. Instead, he lifted his bloodied hands to show them. "No, he was not one of us," he announced. "His blood is human." Confusion. "Then who--" "I suspect he was a clone," the Visitor said quietly. "Diana experimented with human cloning before; she created a second Starchild that way, but it was not viable, it could not eshe left, however, she promised Athena that the child she carried would be a strength to the new alliance, and that between them, their peoples would survive. And that's the state of the war tonight. Chapter One: First Flight The large, empty expanse of metal and vacuum was as dark and silent as only space could be. Suddenly, out of nowhere, lights flooded the chamber. Their brightness illuminated its triple deck, with the railing-encased dais in the middle and the huge starscreen occupying an entire wall. There were numerous consoles scattered about, their cavities and boards waiting to be filled with equipment, the monitors that would operate the huge vessel and its weaponry, send its messages far across space, and pass along the data of its computers and sensors. It was an awe-inspiring sight. From a turbolift concealed behind one of the large monitor panels, a handful of tan-and-silver space-suited figures stepped into view. They trod with the careful gait of weightless spacers, clinging to the wall and floor with the magnetics of their boots and gloves. Even so, one of the figures moved too fast, and gently launched from the floor to drift above its companions for a wild, arm-waving moment, until another figure carefully reached up and pulled the first back to the deck. The five moved slowly to the central command deck, their lack of haste more indicative of reverence than any lack of intensity to reach their goal. At the steps of the dais, the taller lead figure stepped back, gesturing another to go first. That one, who a moment prior had lost its grip to drift for a moment, hesitated. The taller first urged the shorter second on, and finally the second capitulated and ascended, holding tightly to the railing. The smaller figure on the command deck slowly turned, as if studying the room, while the taller first figure joined it. The taller gestured at their companions, a warning of some kind, then leaned over the command consoles. Hands moved sxist away from its source. It appears she may have tried again, to better results." "A clone..." The thought slowly sank in as they stood over the dead image of Apollo. "I think I'm going to be sick," Apollo whispered, having a tough time reminding himself that it wasn't him lying there, skull shattered, face bloody. He shuddered violently. With all that had happened, he felt like he was stepping away from himself. Maybe he wasn't even real anymore. Maybe he was actually staring at his own dead body. Maybe he'd been dead for a long time, maybe that was why he thought his father was acting strange, maybe it was those last millimicrons before all consciousness died. Was that how Adama had known to come back, because he knew his son was about to die? He shook his head violently, feeling tense muscles ache. He felt a rush of gladness for that ache, and turned to Adama. "But how did... How did you know?" Cassie demanded. "How did you get back here? All of you? You were goness spacers, clinging to the wall and floor with the magnetics of their boots and gloves. Even so, one of the figures moved too fast, and gently launched from the floor to drift above its companions for a wild, arm-waving moment, until another figure carefully reached up and pulled the first back to the deck. The five moved slowly to the central command deck, their lack of haste more indicative of reverence than any lack of intensity to reach their goal. At the steps of the dais, the taller lead figure stepped back, gesturing another to go first. That one, who a moment prior had lost its grip to drift for a moment, hesitated. The taller first urged the shorter second on, and finally the second capitulated and ascended, holding tightly to the railing. The smaller figure on the command deck slowly turned, as if studying the room, while the taller first figure joined it. The taller gestured at their companions, a warning of some kind, then leaned over the command consoles. Hands moved slowly over toggles and switches. Then it directed a second wave at the others, who had taken position at other consoles on the lower deck. They activated their own boards. It was as if someone had abruptly stopped an elevator. All five figures stumbled or leaned as artificial gravity dragged their weight back and reminded them of their humanity. More control commands were keyed in, and hissing filled the huge compartment, if there had been ears open to hear it -- though only for a second; the rush of air would have imploded eardrums used to the vacuum. In a moment lights on the main panel indicated adequate pressurization and atmospheric mix. On the dais, the taller figure faced the other, its gesture indicating yet another first, another honor. After a moment's hesitation, the smaller figure raised its hands to work at the base of its helmet, then removed it slowly. The woman responsible for naming the vessel stared around its bridge. She was the first, the very first, to st..." "I heard Ileen call," Douglas responded simply. "And I came." "But your guards--" "Uninjured. They should be waking up soon." She glanced at Apollo, who was staring at his father. "Commander?" she asked. "As Douglas said, Ileen called." Illogical and insane as that seemed, she had no choice but to accept it. But she had to ask, "Well, how did Ileen know?" No one had an answer to that. Athena was beginning to shake, weakness taking over. Cassie took her arm. "I'll hold Ileen, you sit down, you shouldn't be moving around yet..." "I will stay with her," Douglas announced. "Yes," Athena agreed. This time, no one argued with either of them. * * * "I love this place," she murmured. "I'm glad," he murmured back. Boomer understood Mirella's feelings. They were so close to his own. More than the awe of living in space. More than the thrill of tumbling through the asteroid belt with all those other bits of rock and metal tumbling along wilowly over toggles and switches. Then it directed a second wave at the others, who had taken position at other consoles on the lower deck. They activated their own boards. It was as if someone had abruptly stopped an elevator. All five figures stumbled or leaned as artificial gravity dragged their weight back and reminded them of their humanity. More control commands were keyed in, and hissing filled the huge compartment, if there had been ears open to hear it -- though only for a second; the rush of air would have imploded eardrums used to the vacuum. In a moment lights on the main panel indicated adequate pressurization and atmospheric mix. On the dais, the taller figure faced the other, its gesture indicating yet another first, another honor. After a moment's hesitation, the smaller figure raised its hands to work at the base of its helmet, then removed it slowly. The woman responsible for naming the vessel stared around its bridge. She was the first, the very first, to stand here without a helmet's screen between her and the ship. She was the first to breathe the filtered, cycled air that would sustain the crew. As honorary captain, she was the first to stand on the deck and call this ship her own, if only for the few days of spacedock and construction, until its commission. And she would then give this vessel its name. As she leaned on the railing, staring around at "her" ship, she thought she was going to cry. The man with her raised a questioning hand. She nodded, and he hit another control; the "negative shield" command was enacted. Huge metal screens fell away from the front ports, and the vista of a Terran dawn opened before her. She caught her breath at the brilliance of a golden sun lying, gem-like, against cold light-spattered darkness. Before her, a thin film of white, suffused with a rainbow, ribboning like a holiday gift the greens and blues and browns of the world she had called "home" all her life. Beyond the beauty of Terra, she sawth them. More than the sheer joy of learning, doing, being more than they could have learned or done or been if earthbound. It was the challenges that came with this life. The awareness of what they were accomplishing. Right now, despite her words and her presence, he suspected only half of Mirella's thoughts were with him as they stared out the observation dome overhead, watching a mining shuttle dock across the mare, at the bay halfway up the mountain. The other half of her thoughts were no doubt tangled up with the problems Colonel Flint had given her to consider, and the access to the technology and information she needed, to bring a fresh perspective. But he was content with that half of her thoughts, because half of his own were also in the tech labs with Flint's people. And tonight, their thoughts would be whole and together, along with their bodies. He was in love. Hopelessly so. "Mirella?" "Yes, Boomer?" He smiled, and his voice deepened. "I hope that's youand here without a helmet's screen between her and the ship. She was the first to breathe the filtered, cycled air that would sustain the crew. As honorary captain, she was the first to stand on the deck and call this ship her own, if only for the few days of spacedock and construction, until its commission. And she would then give this vessel its name. As she leaned on the railing, staring around at "her" ship, she thought she was going to cry. The man with her raised a questioning hand. She nodded, and he hit another control; the "negative shield" command was enacted. Huge metal screens fell away from the front ports, and the vista of a Terran dawn opened before her. She caught her breath at the brilliance of a golden sun lying, gem-like, against cold light-spattered darkness. Before her, a thin film of white, suffused with a rainbow, ribboning like a holiday gift the greens and blues and browns of the world she had called "home" all her life. Beyond the beauty of Terra, she saw another small world, the stony lump that was Luna, the moon, with every crater and mountain etched starkly in shadow and light without the diffusion of an atmosphere to soften it. It was long moments before the man distracted her attention again, with a gesture obviously requesting permission for some action or other. She nodded in the continuing silence of the bridge, unable to speak for the lump in her throat -- not that he would have heard through his helmet. The man waved at his companions, then removed his own helmet. The others followed suit, and one could at last identify the temporary bridge crew of the new battlestar -Enterprise-. "Was it everything you thought it would be, Nichelle?" Dr. Wilker inquired as she remained silent. The black woman gazed at him, dark eyes bright with tears. "It's more. It's more," the honorary captain replied huskily. She couldn't say anything else, and turned away to stare out at the starfield again. Wilker, a Colonial scientist too ur answer to my next question." She smiled back gloriously, anticipating. "What's your question?" "Let's get married now. Let's not wait." She leaned back against him, snuggling. "I think I can safely say yes to that, too. But wouldn't your friends feel left out? Starbuck and Apollo?" "Apollo didn't let my absence stop his wedding." "And when Starbuck gets married, I'll bet it's a private little ceremony with no one else there." "Just so none of us can give him a hard time about it. But you must have friends you'd like to have there, or family. We could go back to Earth next week, get married at -- what's that place with the chanceries? Vega?" "You mean Las Vegas? Casinos?" "Yeah. I bet Starbuck would have a ball there -- we'd have a tough time dragging him away from the card games." Her smile faded and a s another small world, the stony lump that was Luna, the moon, with every crater and mountain etched starkly in shadow and light without the diffusion of an atmosphere to soften it. It was long moments before the man distracted her attention again, with a gesture obviously requesting permission for some action or other. She nodded in the continuing silence of the bridge, unable to speak for the lump in her throat -- not that he would have heard through his helmet. The man waved at his companions, then removed his own helmet. The others followed suit, and one could at last identify the temporary bridge crew of the new battlestar -Enterprise-. "Was it everything you thought it would be, Nichelle?" Dr. Wilker inquired as she remained silent. The black woman gazed at him, dark eyes bright with tears. "It's more. It's more," the honorary captain replied huskily. She couldn't say anything else, and turned away to stare out at the starfield again. Wilker, a Colonial scientist too used to space travel, smiled with satisfaction and some envy, pleased at the reaction from this very special Earth woman, and secretly wished he could look at the stars that way again, with such newborn awe and almost spiritual joy. He stepped down from the command deck, letting the woman have some time alone. There were plenty of things he and his technical crew had to complete on the bridge. There was equipment of all kinds to be installed, but it would be easier now that artificial gravity and air had been introduced to the vessel. Nichelle watched the small crew scurry to their work. They kept their voices low out of respect for her senses, and were soon clustered at the far end of the bridge, giving her a great deal of privacy. As they moved out of her sight, she sat down in the commander's chair. Removing her heavy, magnet-sewn gloves, she couldn't help the comparisons. The bulky fabric of the space suit, against the costumes she'd worn on the false bridge set of the other -Enthadow touched her eyes. "I'm not sure it would be wise for me to go back to Earth this soon." "Well, the -Galactica- then -- your friends and family could come there, and the Commander could marry us. He would, if we wanted." The smile came back, and he knew she'd agree. He loved her smile, it was full of mystery-- Rudely, unexpectedly, klaxons screamed, and the lights went red. Waves of past memory swept over the Colonial Warrior, and dread wrenched his stomach to the deck. "That's an alert siren, isn't it?" "Worse. Incoming ships, not our own. Kobol, it's an attack. I've got to get to the launch bay--" * * * So far, so good. Aaron's team had done an excellent job of confusing her escape. The second ship, from Earth, had joined them as the rendezvous coordinates, as planned. But where to go now? None of the motherships would be hospitable to her. Diana knew the initial plan had been to follow the other ship back to the human planet, as though a regular patrsed to space travel, smiled with satisfaction and some envy, pleased at the reaction from this very special Earth woman, and secretly wished he could look at the stars that way again, with such newborn awe and almost spiritual joy. He stepped down from the command deck, letting the woman have some time alone. There were plenty of things he and his technical crew had to complete on the bridge. There was equipment of all kinds to be installed, but it would be easier now that artificial gravity and air had been introduced to the vessel. Nichelle watched the small crew scurry to their work. They kept their voices low out of respect for her senses, and were soon clustered at the far end of the bridge, giving her a great deal of privacy. As they moved out of her sight, she sat down in the commander's chair. Removing her heavy, magnet-sewn gloves, she couldn't help the comparisons. The bulky fabric of the space suit, against the costumes she'd worn on the false bridge set of the other -Enterprise-. The vague tang of the air she breathed, against the fan-driven free air that gusted through the studio. The metallic undertones that were already fading into her subconscious, against the absolute quiet every time a director yelled. The constant uncertainty of this interminable construction, against the edited, weekly predictability of a script. Reality. This was reality. And it was not all beautiful. The dream of that other -Enterprise-, the vision that had spun dreams and fantasies in the minds of a generation of humans, wasn't here. This ship wasn't for peace, for exploration, for the expansion of humankind across the stars. She was a ship built for war, for survival; built not to dance and leap and tease the stars, but to march among them, stern and strong and constantly alert for the enemy. She was a battlestar, and she was needed to defend Earth and her peoples against a foe sworn to their utter destruction. Her technology and power and purpose were birthed of ol run, and to disappear into the small Renegade underground until something else could be arranged -- either remain on Earth until she could regain power, at least here, or escape back to their homeworld. The latter was more attractive to her. She believed she still had powerful friends there, and family. There also had to be many who were opposed to the current halfbreed "Leader"; they would certainly support her. Of course, on Earth she could vanish as easily as changing her humanskin face; on Homeworld, her true face and form were well-known, and she could easily be recognized. There might be many who would try to curry favor with the new regime by betraying her. She'd been out of Homeworld's politics for several years, who knew how things might stand now? "Commander, we're picking up something!" Rachel said tensely. "What is it?" "A signal from our enclave--" The woman gasped. "A warning, there are humans coming in... It's been cut-off. The message was cut off." She erprise-. The vague tang of the air she breathed, against the fan-driven free air that gusted through the studio. The metallic undertones that were already fading into her subconscious, against the absolute quiet every time a director yelled. The constant uncertainty of this interminable construction, against the edited, weekly predictability of a script. Reality. This was reality. And it was not all beautiful. The dream of that other -Enterprise-, the vision that had spun dreams and fantasies in the minds of a generation of humans, wasn't here. This ship wasn't for peace, for exploration, for the expansion of humankind across the stars. She was a ship built for war, for survival; built not to dance and leap and tease the stars, but to march among them, stern and strong and constantly alert for the enemy. She was a battlestar, and she was needed to defend Earth and her peoples against a foe sworn to their utter destruction. Her technology and power and purpose were birthed of violent need, not of the awed and innocent pleasure of creation and exploration. She had named the star lady, with so much hope and so many high words representing such noble ideals. But it would be a long time before this ship and her crew could live by such ideals. It they ever won the chance. The woman stared out at starlight, sunlight, earthlight, moonlight. She caught a glimpse of one of the Visitor motherships that orbited Earth in a protective grid. Nearer, now that she looked for them, she saw a trio of the Colonial fighter ships -- Vipers, they were called -- returning from a distant patrol of the solar system. They flew past the uncompleted battlestar, turning and rolling as one in salute. As she watched, another trio swept around the moon and joined them, six silver-white starbirds heading for the shelter of their mother's nest. Heading for the -Galactica-. For another hour, Earth was safe. She leaned her face in her hands and began to weep. * * * "Vipeglanced back at their leader. "Our people must have been discovered, and taken." Diana sat back, trying not to show her frustration. "Is there a back-up retreat?" she asked. "There's another group--" "Incoming ships!" Craig shouted tensely from the co-pilot seat. "What kind?" Diana demanded. "It looks like...Cylon." Craig hesitated. "There are hundreds of them..." Diana had a moment's inspiration. "Contact them." "Commander?" "Now! Before they start firing on us!" * * * "Commander!" It was Cree, who'd piloted the first leg of the shuttle to the Maxwell cabin, and co-piloted directly to the hospital. The young warrior had been waiting in the lobby ever since, alert in case he should be needed. The hour and lack of sleep showed in the dark stubble on his chin and the dark shadows under his eyes. "What is it, Sergeant?" Adama asked. Apollo tensed beside him. "Word from Omega on the -Galactica-, sir," he replied. "The Toronto Mothership is on fiviolent need, not of the awed and innocent pleasure of creation and exploration. She had named the star lady, with so much hope and so many high words representing such noble ideals. But it would be a long time before this ship and her crew could live by such ideals. It they ever won the chance. The woman stared out at starlight, sunlight, earthlight, moonlight. She caught a glimpse of one of the Visitor motherships that orbited Earth in a protective grid. Nearer, now that she looked for them, she saw a trio of the Colonial fighter ships -- Vipers, they were called -- returning from a distant patrol of the solar system. They flew past the uncompleted battlestar, turning and rolling as one in salute. As she watched, another trio swept around the moon and joined them, six silver-white starbirds heading for the shelter of their mother's nest. Heading for the -Galactica-. For another hour, Earth was safe. She leaned her face in her hands and began to weep. * * * "Viper patrols Four and Two returning to the -Galactica-," Omega reported distractedly. "They report nothing unusual in this system as far as the edges of the heliosphere and a full four units beyond. No trace of Cylons, nor any signals or scans of returning Sirians." The flight officer's eyes remained on his commander, troubled. Commander Adama barely glanced at him. "Good, good," he muttered, then resumed his pacing. The commander was a broad-shouldered, white-haired Caprican of almost one-hundred-fifty yahrens, his back still as straight as any younger Warrior's. He had been in the military for one-hundred-thirty of those yahrens, first fighting the Cylons and then leading the human survivors to Earth, the planet nestled so serenely in the viewscreen's image. The knowledge that he had reached that goal burned in his eyes, along with some deep, unexpressed fear. Omega exchanged glances with Colonel Tigh, who shrugged negligibly. His own expression held anxiety. Whatever was botheringre, the reports are confused. It might have been sabotage, a bomb, but they also report laser damage, from being fired on." He seemed to hesitate a second. "When they re-established communications, they reported that Diana had escaped." "Where's she headed?" "They're not sure. They didn't realize what had happened at first, and couldn't report it when they did. We don't have the transponder codes for her ship. From the ships in the air at that time, she might have come here to Earth, or she might be outward bound. The only things we're sure of are that she didn't head for Luna, and she didn't pass the Leader's Mothership." Adama's gaze turned steely. He raised his head to look skyward. Somewhere, the enemy of both human and Visitor was hiding herself. "Outward bound," he muttered. "Sir?" Apollo queried. "She's outward bound. Have squadrons been scrambled?" "Flight Officer Omega reported he'd put all squadrons on alert, and sent damage teams to the Toronto Mothersr patrols Four and Two returning to the -Galactica-," Omega reported distractedly. "They report nothing unusual in this system as far as the edges of the heliosphere and a full four units beyond. No trace of Cylons, nor any signals or scans of returning Sirians." The flight officer's eyes remained on his commander, troubled. Commander Adama barely glanced at him. "Good, good," he muttered, then resumed his pacing. The commander was a broad-shouldered, white-haired Caprican of almost one-hundred-fifty yahrens, his back still as straight as any younger Warrior's. He had been in the military for one-hundred-thirty of those yahrens, first fighting the Cylons and then leading the human survivors to Earth, the planet nestled so serenely in the viewscreen's image. The knowledge that he had reached that goal burned in his eyes, along with some deep, unexpressed fear. Omega exchanged glances with Colonel Tigh, who shrugged negligibly. His own expression held anxiety. Whatever was bothering the commander, he wasn't sharing it with even his closest friend. "Our patrols have landed. Captain Apollo is reporting to the bridge to join you for the return to Miramar, Colonel," Omega reported a few moments later. "Thank you, Omega." Tigh studied Adama's back. His friend was now on the lower deck, staring forward at the open bridge ports with unseeing eyes. More than one of the brown- and blue-clad bridge personnel were obviously tense and worried about their commander's recent behavior. Tigh leaned over the flight officer's shoulder. "How long has he been like that, Omega?" he murmured softly. "Three days," he mouthed back. Tigh felt a pang. He'd spent so much time at the training academy these past few sectars that he didn't even notice his friend's growing distance. He hadn't even been aboard the battlestar in those three days. He knew he had duties elsewhere, but still... Adama turned abruptly and mounted the steps to the bridge platform. He studied Omega'hip. The Visitors are also sending aid. Now that we know Diana's escaped, he's alerting all ships and bases in the system." The commander's attention seemed to turn inward, away from his warriors. A long moment later, he ordered, "Get our ships in the air, from the -Galactica- and Miramar. Warn the Sirians, and tell all our people, that our enemy is coming." Cree swallowed. "The Sirian Leader's ship, sir...Omega says they're already launching squadrons, that their Leader already gave the order, but there's nothing on our long range scanners..." Adama's stare bored through him. "I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest, Sergeant. Let's get back to the -Galactica-." * * * The sirens at Miramar went off, screaming full alert. Cards flew in all directions as pilots abandoned the game and headed for their ships--after grabbing their stakes. "Hey!" Starbuck screamed. "The pot, that's mine--" "Sorry, man, can't finish the hand, can't take the pot," Maverick yelled bac the commander, he wasn't sharing it with even his closest friend. "Our patrols have landed. Captain Apollo is reporting to the bridge to join you for the return to Miramar, Colonel," Omega reported a few moments later. "Thank you, Omega." Tigh studied Adama's back. His friend was now on the lower deck, staring forward at the open bridge ports with unseeing eyes. More than one of the brown- and blue-clad bridge personnel were obviously tense and worried about their commander's recent behavior. Tigh leaned over the flight officer's shoulder. "How long has he been like that, Omega?" he murmured softly. "Three days," he mouthed back. Tigh felt a pang. He'd spent so much time at the training academy these past few sectars that he didn't even notice his friend's growing distance. He hadn't even been aboard the battlestar in those three days. He knew he had duties elsewhere, but still... Adama turned abruptly and mounted the steps to the bridge platform. He studied Omega's consoles and scan reports for a moment, then stood back again. "Is it now your policy to speak of me behind my back, Tigh?" he demanded sternly of the silver-haired black officer. The other two men flushed guiltily. "Adama..." the colonel protested. He held up a hand. "Do not explain. Apollo's patrol is back. Perhaps it would be best if you returned to your duties planetside." "Adama, if you wish to talk..." But he had turned away, and was making rapid progress across the length of the bridge. At that moment Captain Apollo strode onto the bridge. He was a tall, handsome, dark-haired young man with startling jade-green eyes. He was also the commander's son. Normally serious and sensitive sometimes to the point of brooding, today he walked with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips. Adama walked past the Warrior as if he didn't see him. Apollo stood in silent shock, mouth slightly open as if to speak. "Captain." Tigh gestured at him sharply. "We'll bk. "Gotta go!" He understand that, better than any of them. But four aces lost to an alert... He felt robbed. Starbuck headed for his Viper, with the current rotation of -Galactica- flight instructors, and with Red Squadron, temporarily billeted on Earth. Among them were the first space pilots from the Earth pilots, barely tested on the little starfighters. Colonel Tigh intercepted them, holding up a hand. The motley group stopped, scattered as they were across the square, then moved closer to hear his words. "Warriors," he announced, his eyes moving solemnly across the Colonials, to the Earth pilots. "Both the -Galactica- and the Leader's Mothership report ships moving into the system, squadrons of small vessels. Patrols confirm there are Cylon Raiders moving sunward." He took a deep breath, his words heavy. "The Cylons have arrived. The battle is here, now. Lords of Kobol -- and all deities in which you believe -- be with you all this day. Come back safely." For Ss consoles and scan reports for a moment, then stood back again. "Is it now your policy to speak of me behind my back, Tigh?" he demanded sternly of the silver-haired black officer. The other two men flushed guiltily. "Adama..." the colonel protested. He held up a hand. "Do not explain. Apollo's patrol is back. Perhaps it would be best if you returned to your duties planetside." "Adama, if you wish to talk..." But he had turned away, and was making rapid progress across the length of the bridge. At that moment Captain Apollo strode onto the bridge. He was a tall, handsome, dark-haired young man with startling jade-green eyes. He was also the commander's son. Normally serious and sensitive sometimes to the point of brooding, today he walked with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips. Adama walked past the Warrior as if he didn't see him. Apollo stood in silent shock, mouth slightly open as if to speak. "Captain." Tigh gestured at him sharply. "We'll be returning to Miramar at once. Commander's orders." Apollo blinked uncomprehendingly for a micron, then nodded. The colonel rested a hand on the flight officer's shoulder for just a moment. "Watch him, Omega. Tell me if there's anything..." "I will, sir." "And if you could...pass along any...vital information?" Tigh sounded as though the words hurt even to think, much less to utter. "If there is...something disturbing him, he could be... preoccupied..." Omega nodded quickly, eyes averted. There was too much at stake to risk everything on any one man, even Commander Adama, if there was something wrong with him. Heroes had been known to fail before. "What's wrong with the Commander?" Apollo demanded a moment later as the two made their way back to the launch bay. "Has there been some word from Earth? Or from the Sirians?" "No. I don't know what's bothering Adama. I tried to ask him and got the same treatment you did -- he ignored the question and all but accused tarbuck, that brought a familiar excitement, a burst of energy and expectation, along with weariness. The enemy they'd hoped to escape, until they had time to rebuild their strength... But of course, they had allies now, the Visitors. And the Cylon arrival had been inevitable, with the human signal. The sirens continued to sound, all over the base. As he raced, Starbuck could see the Earth humans preparing for battle, as efficiently as any battlestar or Colonial base. He appreciated that. He also noticed that they didn't appear afraid. He'd half expected to see a little panic in the first Cylon battle. He reminded himself that these people had already survived an invasion, and had been given full briefings on what to expect from the new enemy. They were also among Earth's best. He had no reason to expect less from them than from his own squadronmates. He reached his ship. And launched. * * * "We've lost contact with Ceres base!" Rigel called up to Omega. "Maybe the returning to Miramar at once. Commander's orders." Apollo blinked uncomprehendingly for a micron, then nodded. The colonel rested a hand on the flight officer's shoulder for just a moment. "Watch him, Omega. Tell me if there's anything..." "I will, sir." "And if you could...pass along any...vital information?" Tigh sounded as though the words hurt even to think, much less to utter. "If there is...something disturbing him, he could be... preoccupied..." Omega nodded quickly, eyes averted. There was too much at stake to risk everything on any one man, even Commander Adama, if there was something wrong with him. Heroes had been known to fail before. "What's wrong with the Commander?" Apollo demanded a moment later as the two made their way back to the launch bay. "Has there been some word from Earth? Or from the Sirians?" "No. I don't know what's bothering Adama. I tried to ask him and got the same treatment you did -- he ignored the question and all but accused me of conspiring behind his back." He let his conscience flail him with the knowledge that ordering Omega to pass along information amounted to just that. "But you know your father -- whatever's going on, he'll tell us when he's ready, and there's no way to get it out of him before then." "But..." the younger man objected. "Do *you* have any idea what's going on in his mind?" "No, but..." "Then there's nothing we can do about it now. Hopefully he'll tell us soon. But we both have work to attend to." "Yes, sir." Apollo's mouth tightened in distaste. The slight straightening of his back and shoulders indicated the rest of their discussion would be on a more formal level. "How was the training patrol?" Tigh deliberately changed the subject as they entered the ship's interior lift system. It would carry them through the body of the ship and down through the extenders of the ship's auxiliary pods, where Vipers and shuttles launched, landed, were serviced and stored, and, ey've gone silent to conceal their location; keep trying to raise them, but use a secure channel only," he responded, trying to assimilate all the reports coming at him. It was the first time he'd been in command during an attack. Always before, one of the more senior officers had been there, Commander Adama, or Colonel Tigh or Flint or Andromeda. But Adama wasn't back yet, Tigh was at Miramar, Flint was at Ceres, Andromeda was at Luna. Suddenly, he *was* the ranking officer on the bridge, and the battle wasn't going to stop while he took time to remember what he'd learned over the yahrens -- *years* -- and who was where. After all, he'd been training for this for a long time, waiting for command. This day had been inevitable. "What do Sirian patrols in that sector report?" "Also silent." She hesitated. "They were under orders not to engage, but if the Cylons attacked..." "They would have fought back." "Let me know as soon as we heaif need be, repaired or stripped for salvage. "It went well, Colonel. The Earth pilots have picked up on things quite quickly -- even the switch from thinking in terms of what amounts to two dimensions to actually flying and fighting in three dimensions in open space. There are only a few men and women in the program who seem to be having difficulty adapting to a lack of 'down' in their flying. Navigating by instruments is something they're familiar with, and using stellar bodies as fixes instead of terrestrial landmarks is a fairly easy transition for most of them." "Good. Who are the best?" He thawed a little, and almost smiled in spite of himself. "From the first -Galactica- class, I'd say Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. You'd know better about your team from Miramar -- they should be ready for training flights soon. From the second classes, it's too soon to tell." "Umm. My people should be in space by now too. Some of my pilots were teachers, flight trainers; they're eager to ge me of conspiring behind his back." He let his conscience flail him with the knowledge that ordering Omega to pass along information amounted to just that. "But you know your father -- whatever's going on, he'll tell us when he's ready, and there's no way to get it out of him before then." "But..." the younger man objected. "Do *you* have any idea what's going on in his mind?" "No, but..." "Then there's nothing we can do about it now. Hopefully he'll tell us soon. But we both have work to attend to." "Yes, sir." Apollo's mouth tightened in distaste. The slight straightening of his back and shoulders indicated the rest of their discussion would be on a more formal level. "How was the training patrol?" Tigh deliberately changed the subject as they entered the ship's interior lift system. It would carry them through the body of the ship and down through the extenders of the ship's auxiliary pods, where Vipers and shuttles launched, landed, were serviced and stored, and, r anything. Status on our fighters?" "Ready for launch, sir. And the Sirians are taking defensive positions. The Sydney Mothership reports they are sending fighters to protect the -Enterprise- and the spacedock, as is the Rio de Janeiro Mothership. She'll be safe, if the Cylons get this far." "The Leader's Mothership?" "Confirms our information; they're moving out." "Excellent. How long before Commander Adama reaches us? She hesitated, the uncertainty obvious. "We don't know, sir. No word since the shuttle launched. We have no idea how long it will take them to return--and with so many ships in the air, we probably couldn't locate them..." His heart completely sealed his throat. Then tension thickened; was it fear of the Cylons, worry for Commander Adama, or a lack of trust in their untried commanding officer at this moment? He didn't have the luxury to consider the issue. "We can't wait for them. Move us out to take position at Mars, we'll make a stand there--"t out here, and they deserve the chance. Soon, they'll be teaching other young men and women... I'll have to contact Wilker today, find out if Viper production has started yet..." "Wouldn't he contact you as soon as they can start manufacturing Vipers?" "Maybe -- if he remembers, as involved as he is with the -Enterprise-. But several of the Earth ship designers -- engineers -- suggested a few changes in our basic fighter design, and apparently they still have a few 'bugs' in the production system, so Tranquility Base on Luna isn't in full operation." Apollo was amused. "We've been flying and fighting among the stars for millennia, and the Viper is the most advanced design we've ever created. We had to set up the lunar base and show them how to maintain it! These Terrans really think they can improve on a Viper in a few sectars' time, when they've never been to space before? When their most advanced space vessels to date have been lumbering shuttles, one-time-use delivery crafif need be, repaired or stripped for salvage. "It went well, Colonel. The Earth pilots have picked up on things quite quickly -- even the switch from thinking in terms of what amounts to two dimensions to actually flying and fighting in three dimensions in open space. There are only a few men and women in the program who seem to be having difficulty adapting to a lack of 'down' in their flying. Navigating by instruments is something they're familiar with, and using stellar bodies as fixes instead of terrestrial landmarks is a fairly easy transition for most of them." "Good. Who are the best?" He thawed a little, and almost smiled in spite of himself. "From the first -Galactica- class, I'd say Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. You'd know better about your team from Miramar -- they should be ready for training flights soon. From the second classes, it's too soon to tell." "Umm. My people should be in space by now too. Some of my pilots were teachers, flight trainers; they're eager to ge "Report, Omega." They turned to see Adama and Apollo entering the bridge. Omega felt a wave of relief and hoped it didn't show on his face as he strode down from the command dais to join them. "The Cylons have reached the asteroid belt, sir. We don't know why we didn't get notice sooner, but we suspect they took out the Sirian patrols first. Ceres has gone silent. Our squadrons are ready to launch at your order, Commander, and Miramar is already in the air, taking position over Earth. The Motherships are in position, and we've received confirmation of skyfighters in place to protect our new battlestar facilities. Shall we move out to Mars to intercept the Cylons?" Besides keeping the Cylons from getting any closer, there was a base on Mars, whose current orbit put it between Earth and the asteroid belt where the Cylons were moving. "Yes. Join the Leader's Mothership; we'll face them together." He smiled briefly at his junior officer. "A well-chosen strategy, Omega. I st, and satellites that won't stay in orbit more than a few yahrens, uh, years? They're eager, but..." "Aren't you being a little patronizing, Captain? As you pointed out, our histories long ago diverged. You have to remember they approach things from other angles; they see some things in other ways. As one of the women put it, she took one look at our ship design and got 'itchy fingers' so bad she had to grab a pen and start scribbling. And some of their people are working on our battlestar design as well -- I believe Wilker has been rather impressed. They have a fresh perspective..." "But there are problems?" "A few. So for the time being we're still depending on the parts ship and electronics ship to manufacture our Vipers." "Which could hurt our defensive capability if we're attacked," Apollo finished with a frown. "Without fighters..." "We still don't have the pilots to *fly* the ships if we *had* them," Tigh reminded him. "We don't have to send these people out halft out here, and they deserve the chance. Soon, they'll be teaching other young men and women... I'll have to contact Wilker today, find out if Viper production has started yet..." "Wouldn't he contact you as soon as they can start manufacturing Vipers?" "Maybe -- if he remembers, as involved as he is with the -Enterprise-. But several of the Earth ship designers -- engineers -- suggested a few changes in our basic fighter design, and apparently they still have a few 'bugs' in the production system, so Tranquility Base on Luna isn't in full operation." Apollo was amused. "We've been flying and fighting among the stars for millennia, and the Viper is the most advanced design we've ever created. We had to set up the lunar base and show them how to maintain it! These Terrans really think they can improve on a Viper in a few sectars' time, when they've never been to space before? When their most advanced space vessels to date have been lumbering shuttles, one-time-use delivery crafuspect you wouldn't have needed me here after all." Apollo spoke up. "Father, should I join--" "No." To Apollo's shock, and the surprise of everyone on the bridge, Adama kept his son beside him as the battlestar headed for Mars. * * * Starbuck knew he should stay with the rest of the squadron. But when word came through that they'd lost contact with Ceres, he couldn't sit there and wait for the fight to come to them. Boomer had gone to Ceres. Ceres had only a handful of fighters, not enough to take on the wave of enemy fighters reportedly heading their way. How in Sagan's name had they gotten so careless? How could they have not considered that the Cylons might attack there first? He knew the Sirians had taken up the burden of defending the system too, but supposedly there was no word from their patrols, either. He told himself that it was his duty, as a Colonial Warrior, to get there, and protect that base. he told himself, str-trained or in ill-repaired ships because we have no choice. Now we've got access to the raw materials and parts to build quality ships again, and with the Sirians' help, we've got some time." "As long as the Sirians stay." Tigh avoided that subject. There had been some unrest among the alien Sirians. The Renegades had gone underground, but definitely were still present. Among the loyal Visitors, there were those who would rather have returned to Homeworld with their Leader, or who felt they could serve the Sirian cause in better ways than defending a mammal-dominated planet during a lull in their war. "Boomer may be able to give us an estimate for Tranquility Base production set-up," Tigh mused after a moment. "He's been involved with every phase of design and set-up. The Visitors killed or kidnaped so many of Earth's technical people when they first arrived that they're almost starved for anything our scientists can come up." Apollo laughed. "That amuses you, Captain?" t, and satellites that won't stay in orbit more than a few yahrens, uh, years? They're eager, but..." "Aren't you being a little patronizing, Captain? As you pointed out, our histories long ago diverged. You have to remember they approach things from other angles; they see some things in other ways. As one of the women put it, she took one look at our ship design and got 'itchy fingers' so bad she had to grab a pen and start scribbling. And some of their people are working on our battlestar design as well -- I believe Wilker has been rather impressed. They have a fresh perspective..." "But there are problems?" "A few. So for the time being we're still depending on the parts ship and electronics ship to manufacture our Vipers." "Which could hurt our defensive capability if we're attacked," Apollo finished with a frown. "Without fighters..." "We still don't have the pilots to *fly* the ships if we *had* them," Tigh reminded him. "We don't have to send these people out halfaining for any humorous thought. "Hey, Wings! Where the hell you goin', man, where the hell you goin'?" Maverick. One of the Earth pilots. "Don't follow me." "Wings, you're breaking formation!" He ignored the call. If someone wanted to follow him, let them. * * * The two stared at each other across the bay, she in the entry hatch of her Sirian skyfighter, he surrounded by Cylon centurions, with Lucifer at his side. The Cylon fighters had relayed her signal for truce, to meet and negotiate; intrigued, he had accepted it and ordered his forces to escort her two skyfighters to the basestar. Baltar saw what looked like a beautiful human woman -- slim, shapely, dark-haired, a slightly petulant turn to her lips. She was dressed in red and black. She looked dangerous, imperious, arrogant, yet cautious. He knew what she really looked like, from the old Cylon records of their creators, and from the information gleaned from intercepted communiques, but it was hard to re "Uh, no -- I know their scientific situation isn't the best. Actually, if you can find Boomer you'll be doing better than I've been able to do these past sectars...months," he corrected himself again. Terran time units were still awkward. "He's been so busy, between Tranquility and Mirella, that none of us see him anymore!" Tigh had to smile at that. Some Colonials were working on the integration of the human societies, and a few small Colonial communities had been established around the world, but there was still relatively little interaction between the general populations. The Earth-based Colonials were trying to establish themselves. Those who remained in space, either on the ships of the fleet or in the new, small bases being established on several of the planets and asteroids, seldom met the Terrans. If their technically gifted Warrior Lieutenant Boomer and the brilliant and beautiful Earth woman Mirella Lincoln continued their relationship as they had been, they would very l-trained or in ill-repaired ships because we have no choice. Now we've got access to the raw materials and parts to build quality ships again, and with the Sirians' help, we've got some time." "As long as the Sirians stay." Tigh avoided that subject. There had been some unrest among the alien Sirians. The Renegades had gone underground, but definitely were still present. Among the loyal Visitors, there were those who would rather have returned to Homeworld with their Leader, or who felt they could serve the Sirian cause in better ways than defending a mammal-dominated planet during a lull in their war. "Boomer may be able to give us an estimate for Tranquility Base production set-up," Tigh mused after a moment. "He's been involved with every phase of design and set-up. The Visitors killed or kidnaped so many of Earth's technical people when they first arrived that they're almost starved for anything our scientists can come up." Apollo laughed. "That amuses you, Captain?" concile those images with the woman he saw, and the handful of others behind her. Diana stared at the slightly overweight human, dressed in dark green and black. Her mouth watered a little; she suspected he would be delicious. There was something furtive about him, arrogant in command, but, she suspected, groveling in defeat. She knew his history; she'd made a point of learning it, in the long, empty hours aboard the Toronto Mothership. He'd betrayed his own people, his worlds, to their utter annihilation, except for the small remnant whose arrival had been her own destruction. He was surrounded by silvered centurions, the soldiers of the Cylon Empire, whose sheer numbers and relative ease of manufacture made them so deadly to any biological species, with years between one generation and another. She stepped out of the fighter; at her gesture, the other Renegades remained where they stood. He stepped forward, waving Lucifer back, but to keep watch. They met midway. "So youikely be the first intermarriage of the two societies. They reached a bay. Following a sudden impulse, Tigh turned away from the waiting shuttle, instead heading for the line of white-and-red Vipers strung along the side of the bay. "Let's fly to Miramar ourselves," he suggested. "I think our afternoon training class would enjoy seeing a perfect formation landing." And a couple of his hotshot trainees could use the reminder of just what a Colonial Warrior was and did, and how well he did it. "Uh, Caitlin was accompanying us planetside..." "You said she was one of your best?" "Yes..." "Then let's see if she can keep up." Apollo smiled. "Yes, sir." * * * She prowled stealthily in the darkness of the chamber, giving only a flitting shadow to the few windows and their beams of moonlight. Bare feet padded in absolute silence on the wooden floor. She circled the table and chairs as easily and certainly as moving in a sunlit room, and moved to stand before the refri "Uh, no -- I know their scientific situation isn't the best. Actually, if you can find Boomer you'll be doing better than I've been able to do these past sectars...months," he corrected himself again. Terran time units were still awkward. "He's been so busy, between Tranquility and Mirella, that none of us see him anymore!" Tigh had to smile at that. Some Colonials were working on the integration of the human societies, and a few small Colonial communities had been established around the world, but there was still relatively little interaction between the general populations. The Earth-based Colonials were trying to establish themselves. Those who remained in space, either on the ships of the fleet or in the new, small bases being established on several of the planets and asteroids, seldom met the Terrans. If their technically gifted Warrior Lieutenant Boomer and the brilliant and beautiful Earth woman Mirella Lincoln continued their relationship as they had been, they would very l are the famous Diana." "And you are Baltar, equally famous human traitor." That brought a slight smile to his lips -- he was in command here, after all; he could afford not to be too offended. "As you are now a traitor, by coming here. It would seem we could be well-matched." "Indeed. It would also seem we both have something to gain by bringing down the humans." "Bringing down the humans." Baltar remembered his old bargain with the Cylons -- intelligence information, supplies, assistance with the false armistice, in exchange for rule of his Colony when the Twelve were brought low. Instead, they Cylons had destroyed all Twelve Worlds. How many times had he told himself that he was acting for his Colony's good? That defeat was inevitable? That by helping the Cylons, he was giving Piscea a chance to survive, to become part of the Empire, under him? The Cylons had betrayed their side of the bargain, and his people had refused to believe he acted for their good. They'd refgerator. As she pulled open the door, its light flooded her, illuminating a dark-haired, pale woman. The shapeless nightgown bared her neck, where the green band glowed to proclaim what was already obvious from her heavy body--she was far pregnant. Her fingers touched items and moved restlessly to follow her gaze. Finally something met her fancy, and she pulled out a white-wrapped package and closed the door. Returned to darkness, she tore at the package with her nails, then resorted to her teeth to shred the stiff paper. The scent and feel of raw meat clung to her fingers and lips, intoxicating in its richness. She almost crooned in her throat, delirious with a certain kind of lust as she tore off a handful and crammed it all into her mouth. Lean, but juicy enough from the blood and fat... Light flooded the kitchen. The woman jumped. Her eyes slitted against the unexpected brightness. She actually growled and hugged the torn, dripping package to her chest as she set her baikely be the first intermarriage of the two societies. They reached a bay. Following a sudden impulse, Tigh turned away from the waiting shuttle, instead heading for the line of white-and-red Vipers strung along the side of the bay. "Let's fly to Miramar ourselves," he suggested. "I think our afternoon training class would enjoy seeing a perfect formation landing." And a couple of his hotshot trainees could use the reminder of just what a Colonial Warrior was and did, and how well he did it. "Uh, Caitlin was accompanying us planetside..." "You said she was one of your best?" "Yes..." "Then let's see if she can keep up." Apollo smiled. "Yes, sir." * * * She prowled stealthily in the darkness of the chamber, giving only a flitting shadow to the few windows and their beams of moonlight. Bare feet padded in absolute silence on the wooden floor. She circled the table and chairs as easily and certainly as moving in a sunlit room, and moved to stand before the refriused to accept his advice and his word, when he'd returned to them. The Cylons had given him authority, a basestar, his life. He had a mandate to destroy the survivors, when the victors realized some had escaped. But no more mention of a world to rule... He knew what authority Diana had once had. The fact that she had escaped to come to him here told him she still had some influence, some power, in hidden places. Useful places. Useful power. "I believe we have a great deal to talk about, Diana." Diana knew that Baltar had basestars under his command, that the Cylons were sending a greater task force here, to destroy the humans once and for all. She had no love for the human vermin, she would be glad to see them destroyed, if they could not be subjugated. She had failed to destroy this system once before. Perhaps this time things would be different. She nodded. "I believe we do, Baltar." Then she turned and summoned her people with a wave. Baltar studied the small ck to the refrigerator. In the arch of the living room of the Maxwell cabin, three people watched her anxiously. "Athena..." Julie Parrish stepped forward, one hand extended, the other clutching her robe together. "Wake up, Athena." The woman crouched protectively, like a predator over her prey. "Athena?" Cassiopeia added her soft call to Julie's. The blonde women, one Colonial and one Terran, yet enough alike to be sisters, stared at Athena in concern. She blinked, then slowly straightened and dropped the package. "She is near time," the male murmured. "Her body is gathering energy for solidifying the shell and delivering the egg." "She's human, Douglas," Julie snapped. "She'll deliver a breathing, red-blooded child, by caesarean, just like Robin. She doesn't need to be raiding the refrigerator at night for raw hamburger!" The human-disguised alien seemed oblivious to her reminder. Cassiopeia was torn between disgust and fascination, staring at her friend angerator. As she pulled open the door, its light flooded her, illuminating a dark-haired, pale woman. The shapeless nightgown bared her neck, where the green band glowed to proclaim what was already obvious from her heavy body--she was far pregnant. Her fingers touched items and moved restlessly to follow her gaze. Finally something met her fancy, and she pulled out a white-wrapped package and closed the door. Returned to darkness, she tore at the package with her nails, then resorted to her teeth to shred the stiff paper. The scent and feel of raw meat clung to her fingers and lips, intoxicating in its richness. She almost crooned in her throat, delirious with a certain kind of lust as she tore off a handful and crammed it all into her mouth. Lean, but juicy enough from the blood and fat... Light flooded the kitchen. The woman jumped. Her eyes slitted against the unexpected brightness. She actually growled and hugged the torn, dripping package to her chest as she set her bagroup exiting the skyfighters. Twenty-seven in all.. He gasped, his eyes widening. "That--" The tall, dark-haired human joined Diana; she smiled at Baltar's reaction to his green eyes, high cheekbones, and direct gaze. The Cylons reacted as well, bringing up weapons in some mechanical version of alarm, until Baltar shouted "Stop!" He stared at the man. "Apollo... How..." Confusion, dread, and a certain greed warred in his eyes. Diana smiled condescendingly. "I assume you've met the...original of my devoted servant. Baltar, this is Daniel, one of my human clones. And yes, he was born of Apollo." She touched the human's chin, raised it; the man identified as "Daniel" caught her hand and kissed it. "Daniel, this is Baltar. I believe he is a friend. Be a dear, now, and stay with the others until I call for you." "As you wish, Diana." He nodded at Baltar, then turned away again. "Is Apollo--" "He's alive, unfortunately," Diana informed him. Baltar wasn't sure ifck to the refrigerator. In the arch of the living room of the Maxwell cabin, three people watched her anxiously. "Athena..." Julie Parrish stepped forward, one hand extended, the other clutching her robe together. "Wake up, Athena." The woman crouched protectively, like a predator over her prey. "Athena?" Cassiopeia added her soft call to Julie's. The blonde women, one Colonial and one Terran, yet enough alike to be sisters, stared at Athena in concern. She blinked, then slowly straightened and dropped the package. "She is near time," the male murmured. "Her body is gathering energy for solidifying the shell and delivering the egg." "She's human, Douglas," Julie snapped. "She'll deliver a breathing, red-blooded child, by caesarean, just like Robin. She doesn't need to be raiding the refrigerator at night for raw hamburger!" The human-disguised alien seemed oblivious to her reminder. Cassiopeia was torn between disgust and fascination, staring at her friend and one-time rival. Athena was rumpled from half a night's sleep; her hands, mouth, and gown were bloody, as if from some fatal wounds or committed murder... "She looks like something from a horror video," she mouthed. "The deranged murderer, or his victim, or a lycanthropy sufferer on the morning after..." "Like a werewolf?" Julie shuddered. "At least she's not hunting mice or rats. I caught Robin doing that once, sleepwalking. The place we were hiding in was dreadful, there were so many *things*..." "She's still not really awake," Cassiopeia said, noting the set stare of Athena's eyes. "No. Douglas, take her up to bed, carefully. Clean her up, put a fresh nightgown on her -- and throw that one away before she finds it. We'll clean up this mess." He nodded and moved to take the woman's hand. She smiled at him and clasped his fingers tightly, walking beside him in her dreaming daze. At the foot of the stairs, just visible from the kitchen, the Visitor scooped up the hu he felt disappointed or pleased at that -- his enemy's son lived, but could still be destroyed, and here was the image of that son... "There were two of them, but I understand the other...did not survive his mission." "I see." Baltar watched him walk away. Diana waited a few seconds, richly enjoying the shock and confusion on the man's face. Then she regained his attention. "However, I believe we had things to discuss, Baltar?" * * * The battle was brief. The Cylons swept in, but the humans and Visitors had already been in the air, in pursuit of Diana. Between that and the warnings from Elizabeth and Adama, they were ready for the enemy attack. The Cylons were repulsed at Mars, their attack broken, and then scattered back into the asteroid belt. Colonials and Visitors followed, searching for any hidden enemy, and looking for any of their people who might have been too damaged in the initial attack to return to base on their own. Apollo needed to be alone. On the battman to carry her back upstairs. She laced her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder in a very comfortable, proprietary way. Cassiopeia watched, frowning and uncertain, then went to help Parrish. "It is almost time, isn't it?" she asked Julie when they'd scrubbed up the meat stain from the wooden floor. "Athena's going to have the baby soon? This will be over for her?" "Very soon. The green band is complete and full around her neck, which Willie told me was the sign that it was Robin's time. And the way she's acting is right, according to Douglas. According to everything I know, it's too early for the baby, but who can tell with the combination of alien physiologies?" "We have to judge by what Douglas says. But I don't know why she wants him around..." "Elizabeth...gave him to her. To kill or keep as she chose. And this is what she chose." "I wouldn't want... If it had been me, I wouldn't want him with me, taking care of me... And our people don'd one-time rival. Athena was rumpled from half a night's sleep; her hands, mouth, and gown were bloody, as if from some fatal wounds or committed murder... "She looks like something from a horror video," she mouthed. "The deranged murderer, or his victim, or a lycanthropy sufferer on the morning after..." "Like a werewolf?" Julie shuddered. "At least she's not hunting mice or rats. I caught Robin doing that once, sleepwalking. The place we were hiding in was dreadful, there were so many *things*..." "She's still not really awake," Cassiopeia said, noting the set stare of Athena's eyes. "No. Douglas, take her up to bed, carefully. Clean her up, put a fresh nightgown on her -- and throw that one away before she finds it. We'll clean up this mess." He nodded and moved to take the woman's hand. She smiled at him and clasped his fingers tightly, walking beside him in her dreaming daze. At the foot of the stairs, just visible from the kitchen, the Visitor scooped up the hulestar, there were plenty of places he could go for privacy, now that the military population had been somewhat spread out, along with the refugees, to the bases on Luna, Mars, and Ceres. In spite of that, he chose a place he was familiar with, and where he was comfortable. Blue Squadron's billet. Home. Blue Squadron was still out, part of the sweep of the asteroid belt. With battle done, he couldn't stop reliving the day. This was more of Diana's doing. It was all her doing. First, she'd turned him into her toy, her brainwashed obedient slave. She'd used his family against him, made him hate his own father and betray his sister. She'd taken his sister for her perverted breeding experiment, impregnated her with alien seed. She'd given him the image of his dead wife, his beloved Serina -- a female who'd hated him and every moment they'd spent together, and he'd never known, never even seen. Dear god, he'd gone to her bed willingly, lovingly! How she'd used that... And now shet condone slavery. That's another thing I can't understand -- that an advanced people can condemn their criminals to slavery, whatever they've done." "There are things about Visitor law I'll never understand -- and I don't want to. Willie tried to explain, before they left, something about the child's life replacing the father's in these cases, cases of rape and the like. That's why they -- the Visitors -- never went after Robin for Brian's death. He fathered a child she didn't want. What we considered temporary insanity on her part, they accept as justice. They considered her within her rights to kill him, because she had Elizabeth to stand in his place in their clan listing...uh, genealogy...and he'd forfeited his right... Oh, I don't understand it all." Cassiopeia couldn't stifle the yawn; it was, after all, nearly four a.m. Outside, something howled from far off in the woods. They both jumped. After a moment, Julie spoke again, almost normally. "I'm babbling. Who can uman to carry her back upstairs. She laced her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder in a very comfortable, proprietary way. Cassiopeia watched, frowning and uncertain, then went to help Parrish. "It is almost time, isn't it?" she asked Julie when they'd scrubbed up the meat stain from the wooden floor. "Athena's going to have the baby soon? This will be over for her?" "Very soon. The green band is complete and full around her neck, which Willie told me was the sign that it was Robin's time. And the way she's acting is right, according to Douglas. According to everything I know, it's too early for the baby, but who can tell with the combination of alien physiologies?" "We have to judge by what Douglas says. But I don't know why she wants him around..." "Elizabeth...gave him to her. To kill or keep as she chose. And this is what she chose." "I wouldn't want... If it had been me, I wouldn't want him with me, taking care of me... And our people don''d even taken his body and his name, cloned him, made these grotesque images of a human being. For what purpose? To steal a child, the child she'd forced Athena to have. All done to him, or with his body, without his knowledge or consent. He would see forever that body on the floor, face smashed, bleeding... His face. A body created from his own. All but his own. Himself. He remembered the sense of alienation, of wondering if he had stepped out of time and was staring at him real self. It was too much. Apollo staggered to the nearest stall and threw up. After a few centons, he headed back to his locker to change. "Captain?" Omega's voice, somber and pained. He pulled himself back together. "What is it?" He tensed for more bad news. "Sheba just reported in. Her team had sector three. That included Ceres base." He paused. Apollo knew that should tell him something. "Included?" "The place has been blown to hades." "Boomer?" Omega shnderstand anything at this hour? Go back to bed, Cassie. I'll stay up in case she wanders again tonight." "All right. Good night..." Cassiopeia retreated to her own bedroom. Julie boiled some water for herbal tea and curled up on a rug before the fireplace in the great room. The banked embers of a fire from the night before were still warm. Alone in the very early hour, maybe she could do some thinking and try to make sense of everything that was happening around her. The hot beverage was relaxing; feeling suddenly like Cinderella, she stuck her bare toes out from under her robe to warm them near the broad hearth. It was almost Christmas, and she was sitting in a cabin on a mountainside in the middle of nowhere, waiting until it was time to deliver a baby, a hybrid daughter of a Visitor father and a human -- make that *Colonial* -- mother. There were some differences between Terrans and Colonials, only natural after the thousands of years of separation the newcomers' history clt condone slavery. That's another thing I can't understand -- that an advanced people can condemn their criminals to slavery, whatever they've done." "There are things about Visitor law I'll never understand -- and I don't want to. Willie tried to explain, before they left, something about the child's life replacing the father's in these cases, cases of rape and the like. That's why they -- the Visitors -- never went after Robin for Brian's death. He fathered a child she didn't want. What we considered temporary insanity on her part, they accept as justice. They considered her within her rights to kill him, because she had Elizabeth to stand in his place in their clan listing...uh, genealogy...and he'd forfeited his right... Oh, I don't understand it all." Cassiopeia couldn't stifle the yawn; it was, after all, nearly four a.m. Outside, something howled from far off in the woods. They both jumped. After a moment, Julie spoke again, almost normally. "I'm babbling. Who can uook his head. "We're sending a team to look for survivors. But if it's as bad as Sheba reports, there aren't going to be any." He hesitated, the bleak expression on his face unchanged. Apollo knew. "What else?" "One of the Earth pilots, Mitchell, reports that Starbuck broke formation just before the battle started. He headed outsystem, toward Ceres. There's been no report of him since. But Mitchell believes he must've been heading right into the thickest wave of Raiders." Apollo felt sick, dazed, his world falling apart. From past experience, he knew of only one thing that would ease the pain, for now, until he could deal with it. "I'd better report to the bay, join my squadron." "Commander Adama wants you to report to him, Captain." Omega touched his shoulder for just a micron, in understanding, sympathy, shared sadness at the loss he felt too. "Thank you." He didn't have breath left for anything else. Fortunately, he didn't have to meet anyone elseaimed. The child was the result of one of Diana's schemes, a drugged seduction or rape to produce a second Starchild. But the plot had been thwarted, Athena rescued, Diana and her co-conspirators captured. Elizabeth had decreed punishment for Douglas' role in the plot by placing his fate in Athena's hands, to kill, to exile, or to keep in what amounted to slavery by any human definition. Athena chose to keep the father of her child. Douglas's response seemed strange, to Julie and Cassie and everyone else who knew of it. He accepted it without question, obeyed every order, almost seemed to worship his mistress. As long as he continued to do so, they would provide him with the antidote capsules to the Red Dust. Without it, he would die inside of minutes in the cold mountain climate where the dreaded toxin thrived. The scientists Diana and Juliet, with James, her mate, had been sentenced to the Toronto Mothership, the Sirian scientific vessel, to serve under the watchful eyes of that nderstand anything at this hour? Go back to bed, Cassie. I'll stay up in case she wanders again tonight." "All right. Good night..." Cassiopeia retreated to her own bedroom. Julie boiled some water for herbal tea and curled up on a rug before the fireplace in the great room. The banked embers of a fire from the night before were still warm. Alone in the very early hour, maybe she could do some thinking and try to make sense of everything that was happening around her. The hot beverage was relaxing; feeling suddenly like Cinderella, she stuck her bare toes out from under her robe to warm them near the broad hearth. It was almost Christmas, and she was sitting in a cabin on a mountainside in the middle of nowhere, waiting until it was time to deliver a baby, a hybrid daughter of a Visitor father and a human -- make that *Colonial* -- mother. There were some differences between Terrans and Colonials, only natural after the thousands of years of separation the newcomers' history cl on the way to his father's quarters. "Commander," he reported with stiff formality. "Come in, Apollo." "Sir, shouldn't I be joining the squadron? It's my place as flight commander--" "No." There was no follow-up to that short syllable. Apollo watched as Adama silently set out two chalices and a bottle of ambrosa. "Sir... Father, I don't know why you kept me on the ship during the battle, but I feel--" "Apollo, come. Let us drink to our lost comrades." "Commander!" he finally exploded. Nothing was getting through. What was wrong with Adama? This entire last month, Adama had withdrawn from friends and family, been distant, inscrutable. Why? Between grief and tension, Apollo had to know. "*Why?!*" Adama ignored the outburst and poured the liquor, then finally sat down and looked at his son. "Tell me, Apollo, how many clones of you did Diana create?" Nothing could have hit him more like a punch in the gut. He went pale and staggered a pace backward. Theship's officers, with death as the penalty for any future transgressions. There were plenty on Earth who would sacrifice everything they had to see Diana and James dead. Including Julie Parrish. Slightly uncomfortable with that thought, she moved to a window and stared out at the woods around the cabin. There was a new light dusting of snow on the ground, but the sky was clear, with bright and brittle starlight and moonbeams. It was a good hideaway, quiet, secluded, peaceful. A good place for Athena to wait for the baby without publicity, under the protection of the baby's father, one of her own people's med techs, and the only person ever to have delivered such a child. Soon, though, they would have to return to civilization, to the medical technology that would permit Athena to give birth to her daughter and survive. Especially if, as it seemed, the child would be early. Would it mean anything if the baby were to be born on Christmas? Julie studied the stars. Up there, nearaimed. The child was the result of one of Diana's schemes, a drugged seduction or rape to produce a second Starchild. But the plot had been thwarted, Athena rescued, Diana and her co-conspirators captured. Elizabeth had decreed punishment for Douglas' role in the plot by placing his fate in Athena's hands, to kill, to exile, or to keep in what amounted to slavery by any human definition. Athena chose to keep the father of her child. Douglas's response seemed strange, to Julie and Cassie and everyone else who knew of it. He accepted it without question, obeyed every order, almost seemed to worship his mistress. As long as he continued to do so, they would provide him with the antidote capsules to the Red Dust. Without it, he would die inside of minutes in the cold mountain climate where the dreaded toxin thrived. The scientists Diana and Juliet, with James, her mate, had been sentenced to the Toronto Mothership, the Sirian scientific vessel, to serve under the watchful eyes of that back of one knee caught on the couch and he sat down abruptly. "Is that an accusation, sir?" he asked, barely above a whisper. "No," Adama replied gently. "You had no idea she cloned you, you couldn't know how many." "Then why--" "For you to consider. How many of you did Diana create? What are they doing at this moment? There are those who will have heard the story of what happened at the hospital before another day has passed, despite our attempt to keep it quiet. They will wonder. And...it is possible that one of them could be sent here. They may take you, replace you, kill you." "You're keeping me here...to protect me?" "Not entirely. We cannot risk having one of *her* people on this battlestar--" He smiled affectionately, but sadly. "--looking so much like you even I could not tell you apart. Especially if Boomer and Starbuck are really gone. Who knows you as well as they? And what would one of her people do, if we believed it was you, and allowed him acces their world, orbited a Colonial battlestar and several Sirian motherships. Somewhere far beyond was the world of the Dogstar, the Homeworld of the Sirians. That was where Elizabeth had gone, to be properly Invested as Leader and to prepare her battle plan. For somewhere else up there was a Cylon task force, perhaps already backed up by additional forces and planning an attack on her world. The Cylons would work genocide on Earth and Sirius, as they had wrecked it on the Twelve Colonies, as they still fought to do to the Visitors in half a dozen quadrants -- however much space that involved. She and Mike Donovan had called both forces, Colonial and Cylon. Their plea for help against the Visitors might have summoned destruction for both their peoples. And she still had nightmares, still didn't know if she and Mike had done the right thing. She wished she could talk to Mike -- or Steve, Ham, or Chris, even Kyle, somebody who had been through it all with her and would understand. Buship's officers, with death as the penalty for any future transgressions. There were plenty on Earth who would sacrifice everything they had to see Diana and James dead. Including Julie Parrish. Slightly uncomfortable with that thought, she moved to a window and stared out at the woods around the cabin. There was a new light dusting of snow on the ground, but the sky was clear, with bright and brittle starlight and moonbeams. It was a good hideaway, quiet, secluded, peaceful. A good place for Athena to wait for the baby without publicity, under the protection of the baby's father, one of her own people's med techs, and the only person ever to have delivered such a child. Soon, though, they would have to return to civilization, to the medical technology that would permit Athena to give birth to her daughter and survive. Especially if, as it seemed, the child would be early. Would it mean anything if the baby were to be born on Christmas? Julie studied the stars. Up there, neart Kyle Bates and Steve Maitland were at Science Frontiers, putting things in order and coordinating with the Colonials, the Visitor science ship, and such major surviving Earth installations as Humanidyne, the Bonzai Institute, and universities and colleges the world over. Ham Tyler and Chris Farber had dropped out of sight, presumably still involved in flushing out pockets of renegade Visitors. And Michael Donovan was now the most sought-after media journalist in the world, welcome anywhere, offered a dozen jobs at the most prestigious stations on the continent, trying to balance the perceived glamour of his work and heroic reputation with rebuilding his life with his son Sean. Julie sighed, feeling left out and rather alone, and still guilty. A shooting star -- hopefully only that, not a ship burning up on falling into the atmosphere, or the first shot of battle. She closed her eyes and wished she could change the path of time. * * * Inspector General Philip of the Visitors strs anywhere on our ship, to any intelligence?" It slowly sank in, and Apollo dropped his head, defeated. "Father, I can't stay here for the rest of my life, under guard, useless to anyone, just in case Diana sends another clone--" "For now, Apollo, that is exactly what you will do. Everyone will know you are on this ship and you are staying on this ship. There are plenty of positions you're qualified for, on the -Galactica-, for the time being. The bridge, for one." "Father--" Adama stared past Apollo, through the metal walls to some vision his son couldn't see. "She's not through with us yet, my son. But you will stay here. And we will be ready." Again that sense that his father saw more than anyone else, more of the future, more of the present. But for Apollo, it made no sense. His world was crashing around him. Numb, he picked up the chalice his father offered, and joined in the toast to lost comrades, barely aware of the smooth taste in his mouth for the bitterness their world, orbited a Colonial battlestar and several Sirian motherships. Somewhere far beyond was the world of the Dogstar, the Homeworld of the Sirians. That was where Elizabeth had gone, to be properly Invested as Leader and to prepare her battle plan. For somewhere else up there was a Cylon task force, perhaps already backed up by additional forces and planning an attack on her world. The Cylons would work genocide on Earth and Sirius, as they had wrecked it on the Twelve Colonies, as they still fought to do to the Visitors in half a dozen quadrants -- however much space that involved. She and Mike Donovan had called both forces, Colonial and Cylon. Their plea for help against the Visitors might have summoned destruction for both their peoples. And she still had nightmares, still didn't know if she and Mike had done the right thing. She wished she could talk to Mike -- or Steve, Ham, or Chris, even Kyle, somebody who had been through it all with her and would understand. Buode across the metal deck of the Toronto Mothership, Security Commander Lydia at his heels. There were a handsome pair in their humanskin masquerade and formal military red uniforms, both blond and even-featured, lithe in their movements, quick and graceful as any desert predators. They were Wardens of the People, specially delegated by the Leader to represent the Sirians in any circumstances. A mahogany-tressed female in the geometric silver and black of the science ship moved forward to meet them, her dark adjutant and personal security officer a pace behind on either side. "Michelle." "Philip," she acknowledged with a slight nod of her head. "Commander Damian is unable to meet us?" Philip asked the female officer. He continued to ignore Nicholas and Lucinda. "Commander Damian is...occupied at the moment, Inspector General," she replied with deadly formality. "However, you are most welcome here. We will show you anything you wish to see, and I have already ordered refres in his throat. Chapter Six: Ceres' End Starbuck blinked slowly, staring up at nothing. Even blinking hurt. What had happened to him? Memory came back slowly, in disconnected moments. Cylon fighters reported in the Earth system... The call to battle from Miramar... Sudden concern for Boomer... Leaving the squadron, his Terran temporary wingman's voice ringing in his ears... Empty space, halfway to Ceres, his thoughts already there, wondering if his friend survived... The asteroid belt, the Raiders hidden there... He'd taken two of them out, maybe a third... One last half-memory of fire, just a micron of something burning, the realization he'd been hit... Now here. Wherever here was. He rolled to his side. The room gradually stopped spinning. It was familiar, a little. Metal walls. One empty space, a doorway. Two glowing edges that marked the sides of that doorway, also marking a force screen that prohibited passage. Beyond the doorway.t Kyle Bates and Steve Maitland were at Science Frontiers, putting things in order and coordinating with the Colonials, the Visitor science ship, and such major surviving Earth installations as Humanidyne, the Bonzai Institute, and universities and colleges the world over. Ham Tyler and Chris Farber had dropped out of sight, presumably still involved in flushing out pockets of renegade Visitors. And Michael Donovan was now the most sought-after media journalist in the world, welcome anywhere, offered a dozen jobs at the most prestigious stations on the continent, trying to balance the perceived glamour of his work and heroic reputation with rebuilding his life with his son Sean. Julie sighed, feeling left out and rather alone, and still guilty. A shooting star -- hopefully only that, not a ship burning up on falling into the atmosphere, or the first shot of battle. She closed her eyes and wished she could change the path of time. * * * Inspector General Philip of the Visitors strhments to be prepared for you before you leave. If I may inquire as to the purpose of your visit?" Philip chose not to ask about the commander's current "occupation." Damian's amusements were too well known, but he had become either very lax or very bold if he ignored his superior's visit to indulge himself. It could be that he presumed on his familial relationship to the now-dead Charles, and *his* kinship to the previous Leader. Always assuming, of course, that Michelle had actually informed Damian of the visit. With the situation on the Toronto Mothership, one could seldom be certain of anything. Philip glanced at Lydia, and knew the same thoughts had occurred to her. Since becoming lovers, he had found they often thought alike. "We are here to check on the progress of your experiments, Michelle. The official reports are encouraging, but it is always difficult to supply sufficient information in a few communiques." "Certainly, Philip. If you will accompany me?" Lydia .. Starbuck groaned. It was familiar. Cylons. He was on a Cylon base ship. In a cell. A prisoner. * * * Sheba was heartsick, staring at the ruins of what had been Ceres Alpha. The main dome was ripped open. What had been the landing bay was dark, one side gouged wider to resemble a crooked, toothless sneer. Loose debris floated over the surface. "There's too much interference," she heard Brie's voice over her comm. "We can't tell if there's any life signs left. But we've got emergency environment suits. Should we land?" the younger pilot asked tentatively. "No," she responded evenly. As much as she wanted to, there would be nothing they could do here, from their Vipers. The debris would make it impossible to land safely -- if the bay was intact enough to enter. And if there were, miraculously, any pockets of life left in that shattered place, they would need other gear to get survivors out. "But Sheba--" "Suppose we do find survivorsode across the metal deck of the Toronto Mothership, Security Commander Lydia at his heels. There were a handsome pair in their humanskin masquerade and formal military red uniforms, both blond and even-featured, lithe in their movements, quick and graceful as any desert predators. They were Wardens of the People, specially delegated by the Leader to represent the Sirians in any circumstances. A mahogany-tressed female in the geometric silver and black of the science ship moved forward to meet them, her dark adjutant and personal security officer a pace behind on either side. "Michelle." "Philip," she acknowledged with a slight nod of her head. "Commander Damian is unable to meet us?" Philip asked the female officer. He continued to ignore Nicholas and Lucinda. "Commander Damian is...occupied at the moment, Inspector General," she replied with deadly formality. "However, you are most welcome here. We will show you anything you wish to see, and I have already ordered refresfinally spoke. "There are several security concerns I must attend to, with your permission, Philip, Michelle?" "Certainly." Michelle gestured at her personal security officer. "Lucinda will show you whatever is within your concern. Lucinda, see to it." Lucinda hissed a traditional acknowledgement and gestured Lydia in another direction. Her natural reptilian eyes, slitted like ruby-and-amber flames, should betray more than the false orbs most of the Visitors affected, but Lucinda's eyes seemed drained of all emotion. Michelle turned, smiling enigmatically, but Philip saw it. He followed her across the deck, pretending he still hadn't noticed Nicholas, who was now a pace behind him, striding in perfect time to his steps. * * * Damian studied the two females on a private viewscreen, one of a dozen in the false wall of his personal quarters. Whatever Diana and Juliet were working on, they thought they'd kept it secret from everyone else. They were wrong. *He* knew. His indu in some air pocket, Brie, how are we going to get them out?" "We could..." Her voice trailed off. "We have to get the right gear, the right people." Lords of Kobol, it hurt to fly away from Boomer's grave -- she knew, beyond any doubt, that he would have either been in the launch bay, trying to get into space to fight, or in space, trying to defend this base. That the base was destroyed meant he had failed. To have come so far, to have reached Earth, to die here... "Silver Spar Squadron, we've cleared out the Cylons here, they've run. Let's get back to the -Galactica-, and call for the right kind of back-up." * * * Diana stared at the oddly-lit chamber, at the dais completely dominating the side opposite the door, high above the floor. So this was Baltar's throne room. She understood it. Dim light, perfect for the dusk and dawn hunting of the ancient ways. The walls and floors, apparently bare hments to be prepared for you before you leave. If I may inquire as to the purpose of your visit?" Philip chose not to ask about the commander's current "occupation." Damian's amusements were too well known, but he had become either very lax or very bold if he ignored his superior's visit to indulge himself. It could be that he presumed on his familial relationship to the now-dead Charles, and *his* kinship to the previous Leader. Always assuming, of course, that Michelle had actually informed Damian of the visit. With the situation on the Toronto Mothership, one could seldom be certain of anything. Philip glanced at Lydia, and knew the same thoughts had occurred to her. Since becoming lovers, he had found they often thought alike. "We are here to check on the progress of your experiments, Michelle. The official reports are encouraging, but it is always difficult to supply sufficient information in a few communiques." "Certainly, Philip. If you will accompany me?" Lydia lgent expression followed Diana as she moved, a very different emotion lurking in his dark eyes. Was the brilliant, beautiful, deadly female the one who had killed Charles, despite the official verdict? What twisted fascination or ill-fated inspiration had led Charles to take the Leader's cast-off as mate? Sooner or later, he would know, and if she was his kinsman's murderer, she would experience the pleasure of his games. Another screen flickered into life. He changed the angle of his chair and observed as Michelle led Inspector General Philip through several chambers of computer banks. Philip was known to be an honorable male; his close involvement with the Terrans and the Colonials was both a hindrance and an opportunity. Michelle...he never knew what she thought, and trusted her no further than her duty. But there was nothing of interest in either of them at the moment. He moved again to glance at a third screen, and saw Lucinda leading Lydia into the main security station. Hemetal, actually inlaid and scored with shapes and colors that the human's less-sharp eyes had probably never seen, and probably didn't even know were there. They were images from some fusion of the ancient homeworld and the mechanical mockery it had become. The high chair, placed to survey all there was to see -- an image of hunting cliffs, a false race memory in the programmed Cylons. Yes, this architecture and design had come from her people, long, long ago. But it was hardly the place for negotiations on the fate of a star system and its creatures. He would be in the predator's position, she the prey in the rock and sand below... "This way." Baltar led her to a rear chamber, concealed by the high throne. Soft, comfortable chairs; thick carpeting on the floor; the walls covered with painting and several sculptures on pedestals -- booty from his own world, she expected. There was a low table laden with fresh fruit, no doubt grown in some agro-garden on the baseship. Ostentatioufinally spoke. "There are several security concerns I must attend to, with your permission, Philip, Michelle?" "Certainly." Michelle gestured at her personal security officer. "Lucinda will show you whatever is within your concern. Lucinda, see to it." Lucinda hissed a traditional acknowledgement and gestured Lydia in another direction. Her natural reptilian eyes, slitted like ruby-and-amber flames, should betray more than the false orbs most of the Visitors affected, but Lucinda's eyes seemed drained of all emotion. Michelle turned, smiling enigmatically, but Philip saw it. He followed her across the deck, pretending he still hadn't noticed Nicholas, who was now a pace behind him, striding in perfect time to his steps. * * * Damian studied the two females on a private viewscreen, one of a dozen in the false wall of his personal quarters. Whatever Diana and Juliet were working on, they thought they'd kept it secret from everyone else. They were wrong. *He* knew. His indu smiled slightly. Diana and Lydia had accused each other, at first, of Charles' murder. And it was now rumored that Lydia was lover to Philip, perhaps even to be his mate. She was certainly his fellow Warden, a guardian of the People, with him, by the new Leader's command. Lydia was another he would wish to snare in the Web of Raman's Pain, to learn the truth of many things... * * * "All security items seem in order," Lydia had to admit when the tour was complete. At least, as much in order as they could be on this particular ship. Diana, James, and Juliet were assigned to guarded quarters, and they worked under supervision, as did most of the scientists and technicians of the Toronto Mothership. "I must thank you for your assistance, Lucinda. Daniel seems to have things well in order." The other female nodded, but offered no comment. They were silent for several moments, Lydia prowling slowly around the security room, Lucinda following with intent eyes. Finally, the blondes luxury, from a human standpoint. Through a curtain, she saw another room, obviously a bed chamber, equally luxurious. She waited a fraction of second after he sat before taking a seat herself. In the midst of a ship full of her first enemy, the Cylons, she would have to be careful. "Would you care for something to drink? Or to eat?" "No, thank you." "Ah, that's right, your species has...other tastes..." His winning smile became strained for just a second, then came back. "Well then, let's talk. I think we each have something to offer..." * * * Mars. The -Galactica- now hung far above the surface of the Red Planet, above the orbit of its two moons, as it circled the planet in its own cold orbit. Deimos, one of those moons, now obscured a view of the inner system from those in the battlestar. Small fighters flashed brilliance as they caught and reflected light from the sun, returning frlgent expression followed Diana as she moved, a very different emotion lurking in his dark eyes. Was the brilliant, beautiful, deadly female the one who had killed Charles, despite the official verdict? What twisted fascination or ill-fated inspiration had led Charles to take the Leader's cast-off as mate? Sooner or later, he would know, and if she was his kinsman's murderer, she would experience the pleasure of his games. Another screen flickered into life. He changed the angle of his chair and observed as Michelle led Inspector General Philip through several chambers of computer banks. Philip was known to be an honorable male; his close involvement with the Terrans and the Colonials was both a hindrance and an opportunity. Michelle...he never knew what she thought, and trusted her no further than her duty. But there was nothing of interest in either of them at the moment. He moved again to glance at a third screen, and saw Lucinda leading Lydia into the main security station. He-appearing alien turned back to her counterpart. "You have served Michelle for a long time, I believe, Lucinda," she said. "She has been my commanding officer for many seasons." Lydia couldn't tell what the other's neutral tones truly implied, but she knew Lucinda's reputation in a number of respects -- the female could hold a grudge, especially when her superior was involved. Had her suspicious words about Michelle's kinship to James made Lucinda her enemy? "Lucinda," she broached carefully, "I know your reputation in the duel. I believe we are of a skill. Perhaps a...friendly match, t'car, to test our abilities against each other, without costing our people a warrior?" The question and stare were straightforward. "*T'car*?" Lucinda considered; Lydia couldn't read her face. "A friendly duel would be a good test. I accept *t'car*." Lydia found a smile. "Excellent. We could retire to the physical arena while our commanders complete their own business." "I prefer tom the battle. Apollo stared through the port, watching those ships come in. The room was in darkness, the better to focus on what was outside, the better to match his thoughts. He had never felt so helpless, so useless. "Apollo?" He couldn't take his gaze from the space scene. "What is it, Sheba?" She sighed. "I guess you've heard." "I heard," he replied flatly. "Boomer's believed dead at Ceres. Starbuck is missing, presumed dead." There was a long silence. He heard her footsteps coming closer until she stood beside him, staring out at Deimos too. "As soon as we can, we'll send a search and rescue team to Ceres base. In case there're survivors." He knew how slim that chance was -- from point to point, with no thickness or width, all but non-existent. "I'll miss them as much as you will, Apollo," she said softly. "They were two of my closest friends." "I know..." Apollo couldn't say force out anything more. His heart was desolated. It had been a lon smiled slightly. Diana and Lydia had accused each other, at first, of Charles' murder. And it was now rumored that Lydia was lover to Philip, perhaps even to be his mate. She was certainly his fellow Warden, a guardian of the People, with him, by the new Leader's command. Lydia was another he would wish to snare in the Web of Raman's Pain, to learn the truth of many things... * * * "All security items seem in order," Lydia had to admit when the tour was complete. At least, as much in order as they could be on this particular ship. Diana, James, and Juliet were assigned to guarded quarters, and they worked under supervision, as did most of the scientists and technicians of the Toronto Mothership. "I must thank you for your assistance, Lucinda. Daniel seems to have things well in order." The other female nodded, but offered no comment. They were silent for several moments, Lydia prowling slowly around the security room, Lucinda following with intent eyes. Finally, the blondehe traditional rites. Colors and leathers only, and the ancient weapons." "It is acceptable," Lydia acknowledged. "In truth, I prefer the traditional warriors' ways myself. My clan has always followed the ancient beliefs and ways; we have been of the warriors for a hundred generations." "As have mine. I will call Marissa to prepare for us." The warriors were silent as they left security and made their way to the gymnasium, preparing mentally for the contest to come. Those who saw them stride past, if they had known their destination, would have thought they looked more ready for a death challenge than for *t'car*. * * * Her room faced east. Cassiopeia watched the first lights of sunrise color the sky with red and violet, followed by the bright yellow sun, rising between the twin peaks of the mountain. She was tired after the night's sleepwalking event, but she couldn't get back to sleep herself. So she'd watched the stars fade with the coming of morning. She couldn't g time since he'd suffered so great a personal loss. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything so deeply. "Has the Commander really grounded you?" He flinched. "Grounded? No, worse than that, worse than that..." "I heard about the...clone that came after Athena. Is she okay? She and...the baby?" Apollo nodded. "Yes, they're both okay. As okay as they can be." "I heard Athena named her after your mother?" "I guess so. Ileen...little Ila..." Sheba seemed to steel herself. "Who does she look like?" He laughed hollowly. "Almost human. Her face, her hair, the five fingers and toes. But she's not human, Sheba, she's not human, the way she's growing, the way she looks at you... And I don't know what's going on in Athena's head anymore, she's so different." "After what happened to her, I think I'd be different too." "I suppose." "Is it...hard for you, everything that's happened?" He couldn't repress the shudder. "How can it not be?" he asked, -appearing alien turned back to her counterpart. "You have served Michelle for a long time, I believe, Lucinda," she said. "She has been my commanding officer for many seasons." Lydia couldn't tell what the other's neutral tones truly implied, but she knew Lucinda's reputation in a number of respects -- the female could hold a grudge, especially when her superior was involved. Had her suspicious words about Michelle's kinship to James made Lucinda her enemy? "Lucinda," she broached carefully, "I know your reputation in the duel. I believe we are of a skill. Perhaps a...friendly match, t'car, to test our abilities against each other, without costing our people a warrior?" The question and stare were straightforward. "*T'car*?" Lucinda considered; Lydia couldn't read her face. "A friendly duel would be a good test. I accept *t'car*." Lydia found a smile. "Excellent. We could retire to the physical arena while our commanders complete their own business." "I prefer thelp worrying about Athena, wondering if what was happening to her mind was as awesome as what was happening to her body. An alien child...and the father standing guard over Athena as much as if there was some bond between them. Was there? Something more than Athena admitted, maybe more than she even knew? Cassiopeia could only be relieved it wasn't her, and despised herself for it. And yet sometimes she almost envied Athena... Earth. It wasn't quite the world they'd expected, nor were the circumstances like anything she, at least, had envisaged -- what Commander Adama might have known or expected was his own secret. Still at war, now complicated by a new combatant. She sighed, thinking they might have been better off in space, constantly moving. No, that wasn't right either. Now they had a base, a real world where they were more-or-less accepted. They had potential allies. But what did she have? Her first thought was Starbuck. She almost laughed sourly. She and Athe traditional rites. Colors and leathers only, and the ancient weapons." "It is acceptable," Lydia acknowledged. "In truth, I prefer the traditional warriors' ways myself. My clan has always followed the ancient beliefs and ways; we have been of the warriors for a hundred generations." "As have mine. I will call Marissa to prepare for us." The warriors were silent as they left security and made their way to the gymnasium, preparing mentally for the contest to come. Those who saw them stride past, if they had known their destination, would have thought they looked more ready for a death challenge than for *t'car*. * * * Her room faced east. Cassiopeia watched the first lights of sunrise color the sky with red and violet, followed by the bright yellow sun, rising between the twin peaks of the mountain. She was tired after the night's sleepwalking event, but she couldn't get back to sleep herself. So she'd watched the stars fade with the coming of morning. She couldn't his emotional agony obvious to her. "It's my fault. Whatever Diana knows about us, she learned from me. I helped Diana take my sister. I'm responsible for her rape. That baby is my fault. Look what I've done to my family, to the people who trusted me, to my oath as a warrior... I almost wish Douglas had killed me too. And now it looks like Diana has done..." He shuddered again. "I'm sorry, Apollo, I really am." Sheba drew a deep, worried breath. "I have to go; I've got a meeting with the other flight commanders and the Earth pilot leaders. The Commander is putting me in charge of all the -Galactica- squadrons for the time being. I...hope that's all right with you." He nodded, discovering it made no difference to him. Nothing made any difference. Starbuck and Boomer were gone; the soul of Blue Squadron had been torn out. Why should he preside over its corpse? She touched his shoulder. He finally risked a glance at her, and saw the tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. hena had been rivals for the man's attention for some time. Along with half the women in the fleet. She'd learned the hard way that loving him wasn't easy, even after he and Athena had settled into simple friendship. Even when she was willing to commit to him, he had turned away. She had tried not to hold him too tightly, to give him time and freedom to chose. But the Warrior's father had intimated several times to her that once they reached Earth, Starbuck would settle down. The suggestion had been that she was the one he wanted to settle down with. It hadn't quite worked out that way. There were too many beautiful, fascinating, intelligent women on Earth. There was too much to do in preparation for the expected showdown with the Cylons. Starbuck always had excuses, and she never knew which were true and which meant he'd met somebody else. So here she sat in a mountain retreat waiting for a baby while the man she still loved hadn't come to see her even once. Cassiopeia considere He knew he should feel something at that, but he didn't. Still, when she reached for him, he didn't pull away, but closed his eyes and hugged back. They embraced for a long moment; he found strength in her that he didn't expect, freely offered him. He drew from that strength, only realizing after a long centon that she was drawing just as much from him. It was as though she needed to pull something from him, to be able to take his place. For that centon, they exchanged strengths, and he wished she would stay. But then Sheba was gone and he was alone again. * * * Starbuck heard the door clang open, somewhere down the hall. By the time he heard the multiple sets of approaching footfalls, he was on his own feet, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. After a moment, his visitors came into view. There were two Cylons, as expected. The Cylons accompanied two others. He recognized both of them -- a human traitor, and a Visitor one. "It appears our guest is awake," the one help worrying about Athena, wondering if what was happening to her mind was as awesome as what was happening to her body. An alien child...and the father standing guard over Athena as much as if there was some bond between them. Was there? Something more than Athena admitted, maybe more than she even knew? Cassiopeia could only be relieved it wasn't her, and despised herself for it. And yet sometimes she almost envied Athena... Earth. It wasn't quite the world they'd expected, nor were the circumstances like anything she, at least, had envisaged -- what Commander Adama might have known or expected was his own secret. Still at war, now complicated by a new combatant. She sighed, thinking they might have been better off in space, constantly moving. No, that wasn't right either. Now they had a base, a real world where they were more-or-less accepted. They had potential allies. But what did she have? Her first thought was Starbuck. She almost laughed sourly. She and Atd tears, but toughed them through. She was too strong for that now. She would survive. With or without Lieutenant Starbuck. * * * Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, code name Archangel, knew there was something wrong in his branch of the post the moment he entered its darkened hall. He slipped at once into his personal stealth mode and moved silently toward his private office. If there had been any illumination whatsoever, his white clothing would have stood out like a beacon, but in these windowless Stygian chambers, nothing showed. Was it Renegades? A foreign power? One of the Firm's own? He almost spoke aloud to ask. The other spoke first. "Hello, Michael. I hope you don't mind my waiting for you here." "Mirella." He trusted her above all others, but instinct kept him crouched defensively, ready to move in any direction. He heard a small flick and the lights came on. Mirella Lincoln was sitting at his desk, staring directly at him. She'd known of his presence assaid jovially, too eagerly. "Baltar! Diana! Well, a matched pair if ever there was one. The most famous traitors of your races." The female smiled. "Famous, how appropriate -- and we will be more so. I understand you're famous too, as a human pilot," she commented lightly. "As for being a traitor, that remains to be seen. Our new alliance, Baltar and myself, has room for another..." His throat went dry and he couldn't help a step backward. "Never. I'll never work for you. You'll never turn me against my people. You'll never convert me like you did Apollo." "Oh?" "I'll kill myself first," he vowed fervently. Diana laughed disdainfully. "Do you think you'd be given the chance, if that were my pleasure?" "Now, Starbuck," Baltar cut in with the ingratiating, almost fawning tones he used when he wanted something, "don't be too hasty to reject what we might offer--" "Go to hades, Baltar, and take your Sirian witch with you." "Of course," Diana continued as thhena had been rivals for the man's attention for some time. Along with half the women in the fleet. She'd learned the hard way that loving him wasn't easy, even after he and Athena had settled into simple friendship. Even when she was willing to commit to him, he had turned away. She had tried not to hold him too tightly, to give him time and freedom to chose. But the Warrior's father had intimated several times to her that once they reached Earth, Starbuck would settle down. The suggestion had been that she was the one he wanted to settle down with. It hadn't quite worked out that way. There were too many beautiful, fascinating, intelligent women on Earth. There was too much to do in preparation for the expected showdown with the Cylons. Starbuck always had excuses, and she never knew which were true and which meant he'd met somebody else. So here she sat in a mountain retreat waiting for a baby while the man she still loved hadn't come to see her even once. Cassiopeia considere he had known of hers. He noted the weapon on the desk and knew she'd been ready to act if he had been an intruder. That the small gun, silencer attached, wasn't in her hand meant she trusted him and had come for good cause. "What can I do for you?" "Michael, I want to retire." "What?" "I want to retire. I want to leave the Firm." "It's Boomer, isn't it?" "Yes." "He's become more than a job." "Yes." "You want to go with him." "Yes." "I don't suppose there's any way to talk you out of it." "No." Archangel moved closer, studying the woman in white through his uncovered eyes. "You're one of the best agents I ever trained, Mirella. You'd be missed. Can I talk you into accepting reassignment instead? Something that would let you be close to your Warrior?" "Does that mean Zeus won't let me go?" "He wouldn't have a choice. We couldn't touch you if you went to the Colonials. You'd be so far out of our reach it'd be like having a safe house iough neither of them had spoken, "even if you won't...convert, there are other ways you can...serve our new alliance..." Knowing Visitor tastes, her meaning was clear. Her smile widened at the revulsion he couldn't hide. Suddenly, somewhere else down the corridor, he heard more footsteps and a voice. "No! You--" Starbuck tensed, stepping forward involuntarily. Two more Cylons came into view, dragging another human, a struggling man in the uniform of a Colonial Warrior. The man lifted his head, and Starbuck saw the desperate green eyes of his closest friend. "Apollo--!" "Starbuck! Don't--!" One of the approaching Cylons cuffed their victim, and he sagged, unconscious. They dragged the man past his cell. The shock snapped and he threw himself forward. "Baltar--!" he hissed. Baltar stepped back, throwing up a hand as if to ward him off, and the two remaining Cylons immediately drew their weapons. Starbuck rebounded painfully off the force screen at the doord tears, but toughed them through. She was too strong for that now. She would survive. With or without Lieutenant Starbuck. * * * Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, code name Archangel, knew there was something wrong in his branch of the post the moment he entered its darkened hall. He slipped at once into his personal stealth mode and moved silently toward his private office. If there had been any illumination whatsoever, his white clothing would have stood out like a beacon, but in these windowless Stygian chambers, nothing showed. Was it Renegades? A foreign power? One of the Firm's own? He almost spoke aloud to ask. The other spoke first. "Hello, Michael. I hope you don't mind my waiting for you here." "Mirella." He trusted her above all others, but instinct kept him crouched defensively, ready to move in any direction. He heard a small flick and the lights came on. Mirella Lincoln was sitting at his desk, staring directly at him. She'd known of his presence asn heaven." The sandy-haired man smiled in some amusement. Her lips twitched. "That's what I'm hoping for." "Could we still count on you?" "If it doesn't compromise him...or his people." "How about if I put it down as long-term undercover? Deep cover?" She thought for a moment. "No guarantees." "Just tell us what you can." "I'll accept that. But no guarantees." "Have fun in heaven." Mirella nodded, rising, and moved away from the desk, leaving the weapon where it lay. Archangel extended a hand. She shook it, then hugged her superior in an unexpected impulse. He watched her slip out the door. "Good luck, Mirella. I wish you the best." "Thank you, Michael." And she was gone. He sat down heavily at his desk. It was true, what he'd said. In the Colonial fleet, Mirella would be off the planet, likely out of reach of any of their special agents, and in an element in which she could function as though second nature. She was brilliant, educated, an ex to his cell. He fell against the bunk; his knees buckled and he dropped to the floor. Diana only laughed. "We'll give you some company, Starbuck...eventually..." She touched a panel at the side of the opening, and a metal door slide down to hide everything from his sight. Starbuck was alone. * * * "Well done, my Daniel," Diana purred as she dabbed gently at the bruise on the human's face, where the centurion had struck him. "You have served me well; the Colonial Warrior is convinced his closest friend is also our prisoner. I am sorry it had to hurt you..." The clone's eyes closed and he sighed in contentment at her touch. "To serve you is reward enough," he said. "And you have served me well." Her fingers trailed down his cheek. "If your sacrifice of pain should be needed again..." "For your glory, there is no pain too great," he vowed fervently, opening his eyes. "I am honored by your loyalty." H he had known of hers. He noted the weapon on the desk and knew she'd been ready to act if he had been an intruder. That the small gun, silencer attached, wasn't in her hand meant she trusted him and had come for good cause. "What can I do for you?" "Michael, I want to retire." "What?" "I want to retire. I want to leave the Firm." "It's Boomer, isn't it?" "Yes." "He's become more than a job." "Yes." "You want to go with him." "Yes." "I don't suppose there's any way to talk you out of it." "No." Archangel moved closer, studying the woman in white through his uncovered eyes. "You're one of the best agents I ever trained, Mirella. You'd be missed. Can I talk you into accepting reassignment instead? Something that would let you be close to your Warrior?" "Does that mean Zeus won't let me go?" "He wouldn't have a choice. We couldn't touch you if you went to the Colonials. You'd be so far out of our reach it'd be like having a safe house iperienced pilot -- there was likely nothing she couldn't do if she chose. He would miss her, and he knew very well that Zeus would be outraged at losing her. But what could the old man do? Calling for extreme prejudice would be futile. And Archangel was sure she could be trusted to any length. Zeus would have to put a good face on it, accept Archangel's recommendation, and list the woman as being undercover. Where she would undoubtedly remain for the rest of her life. Very happily. But she would be missed. Archangel smiled and reached for his phone, then changed his mind and pulled back his fingers. Steepling his hands, he leaned back to wait for an hour or so. Better to give her time to get out of the building, at least. Let her become a civilian before anyone could protest her decision in the wrong terms. * * * The vehicle waited at the side of the road, some distance from the headquarters. Mirella slipped into the driver's seat of the non-Firm automobile. The man shee kissed her fingers as she brushed them past his mouth. She responded by catching his neck and pulling him close. The taste of his mouth raised another kind of hunger in her. He responded to her deep kiss by putting his arms around her, and she knew he would have offered his throat willingly. The clones of Apollo had been well-trained, and sufficiently modified to be docile and obedient to her will alone, unlike her first effort, the clone of Elizabeth. Well, blood-pleasure must be deferred for now -- in any event, there was no reason to waste such a potentially valuable asset yet. Diana pulled away. "Now rest, my dear. I have another assignment to give, and you must be strong, for the time when I need you again." She stopped at door long enough to say, "I will visit you this evening...and you will know pleasure to balance the pain." * * * Philip wasn't pleased at the information coming in, nor was the Leader, her eyes glowing violet as she listened and watched; Lydia was n heaven." The sandy-haired man smiled in some amusement. Her lips twitched. "That's what I'm hoping for." "Could we still count on you?" "If it doesn't compromise him...or his people." "How about if I put it down as long-term undercover? Deep cover?" She thought for a moment. "No guarantees." "Just tell us what you can." "I'll accept that. But no guarantees." "Have fun in heaven." Mirella nodded, rising, and moved away from the desk, leaving the weapon where it lay. Archangel extended a hand. She shook it, then hugged her superior in an unexpected impulse. He watched her slip out the door. "Good luck, Mirella. I wish you the best." "Thank you, Michael." And she was gone. He sat down heavily at his desk. It was true, what he'd said. In the Colonial fleet, Mirella would be off the planet, likely out of reach of any of their special agents, and in an element in which she could function as though second nature. She was brilliant, educated, an ex loved sat in the passenger seat waiting for her; she wasn't willing to risk exposing him to danger, or giving him information that was still classified. She turned to him with a smile, not realizing until then how tense she was, how she'd almost expected to find herself pursued, or feel a bullet in the back of her head. One never knew... "They let you go?" "I guess so. I knew Archangel would. I didn't know about Zeus." "That's carrying things too far, to make death the only way to opt out of a job." "You don't know everything about my job." "Enough, I think. But since it seems to be working out, let's get out of here before they change their minds." "Right." She started the car and turned it back onto the road. She glanced at Boomer again. "I'll finally get to the moon, won't I?" "In a few centars, Mirella. As soon as we get to the base and launch." They drove into the sunrise. She could hardly wait until she could fly into it, and loose the tie of gravity iabsent, supervising the security of the embassy. The Toronto Mother Ship had the fires under control, but was extensively damaged, and the massive scientific data banks that were her pride and reason for being were still in danger. The Visitor forces had lost at least twenty-five ships in the battle against the surprise Cylon attack. The Colonial human base on Ceres was apparently a complete loss with all hands, along with a dozen fighters from the -Galactica- and the Miramar squadrons. And Diana-- "We failed," the man reported flatly. "By the time we'd figured out the timing and the plan, we were too late. By ten minutes. We think they got a warning out that we were coming in." "So she escaped." Philip clenched his teeth to keep his tongue inside and his venom pits from spewing. "So it seems. But we have prisoners, seven of 'em. They're being questioned by Tyler's people. We'll probably know more by tomorrow." Smith pulled a cigar from somewhere in his jacket. Philip'sperienced pilot -- there was likely nothing she couldn't do if she chose. He would miss her, and he knew very well that Zeus would be outraged at losing her. But what could the old man do? Calling for extreme prejudice would be futile. And Archangel was sure she could be trusted to any length. Zeus would have to put a good face on it, accept Archangel's recommendation, and list the woman as being undercover. Where she would undoubtedly remain for the rest of her life. Very happily. But she would be missed. Archangel smiled and reached for his phone, then changed his mind and pulled back his fingers. Steepling his hands, he leaned back to wait for an hour or so. Better to give her time to get out of the building, at least. Let her become a civilian before anyone could protest her decision in the wrong terms. * * * The vehicle waited at the side of the road, some distance from the headquarters. Mirella slipped into the driver's seat of the non-Firm automobile. The man shen the darkness of space. But she was leaving so much behind, and there might be no return... Boomer seemed to understand; he took her hand and held it tightly. She knew she'd made the right choice. * * * Commander Adama couldn't sleep, so he paced, hoping to wear himself out. He hadn't been able to sleep undisturbed for days. He had always been sensitive to what went on around him, sensitive almost to an empathy with the very cosmos. Now, something ate at his soul, brought him to the brink of despair, and made him wonder why he even tried. Baltar was out there, he knew. Baltar was there with his malevolent plans of revenge and destruction. He waited his chance. There were Cylons massing for an attack. They were coming, soon. Had he done enough to prepare his people? Were Colonial, Terran, and Sirian ready to face the onslaught? And how soon? But that wasn't all. And the other was potentially worse. What was it? He prayed for more time, but knew it eyes watered at the mere expectation of the foul smoke that would soon permeate the room, and his throat closed up reflexively for a second. "Please!" He held up a hand. "Not in here. Smoking is not permitted in the embassy." Smith paused, the match already lit, then continued the path to the Havana clenched between his teeth. His men exchanged amused glances -- as if Colonel Hannibal Smith, leader of the A-Team, would allow any Visitor to tell him what to do. "Cigarettes, I can see. But this is a Havana cigar -- old style elegance. The best of the best." He lit the cigar and after a deep draw, blew a ring of smoke that made its aloof way toward the chandelier in the center of the high ceiling. Elizabeth intervened. "It is permitted." Philip groaned; he knew he would be coughing for an hour after Hannibal left.. "How about a root beer?" "What?" "Well, if Hannibal can indulge in his vice, I want to indulge in mine." Murdock pouted. "And I want a root beer. It's loved sat in the passenger seat waiting for her; she wasn't willing to risk exposing him to danger, or giving him information that was still classified. She turned to him with a smile, not realizing until then how tense she was, how she'd almost expected to find herself pursued, or feel a bullet in the back of her head. One never knew... "They let you go?" "I guess so. I knew Archangel would. I didn't know about Zeus." "That's carrying things too far, to make death the only way to opt out of a job." "You don't know everything about my job." "Enough, I think. But since it seems to be working out, let's get out of here before they change their minds." "Right." She started the car and turned it back onto the road. She glanced at Boomer again. "I'll finally get to the moon, won't I?" "In a few centars, Mirella. As soon as we get to the base and launch." They drove into the sunrise. She could hardly wait until she could fly into it, and loose the tie of gravity iwouldn't be granted. * * * He thought he was choking. Flailing against an unseen strangler, Kyle Bates rolled out of bed and scrambled across the floor to the light switch. Trembling and gasping for breath, he stared around the small bedroom. No one was physically present, but the sensation remained. Cold fingers traced his spine and every muscle of his back. A chilling caress followed his shoulders down his arms to end in tingling fingertips. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to shake what had found him. It tightened around his throat again, and tendrils snaked up into his skull, taking his mind from his own control and lovingly molding his thoughts to suit itself. "No...no..." He raced into the hall, certain there was some place he could escape to and hide -- but where, in the small apartment? He ducked into the bathroom and locked the door. Trembling, he backed into the shower door and nearly put a hole in the door when he jumped away. "Please..." the beverage of choice of us World War I flying aces, you know." "We have none available," Elizabeth continued smoothly; she was aware of the man's eccentricities, and ignored them, for the most part. "What else did your intelligence determine when you eradicated the Renegade hide-out -- that may yet be useful in a timely fashion?" "Well, Tyler's still got his pet computer whiz going through things, but otherwise--" The massive double door was flung open. "But you can't--" The elegant older woman brushed off Lydia's last futile attempt to stop her. Philip glanced at the woman, not recognizing her, taken aback at her arrogant entry and that his security officer had apparently been unable to prevent her from barging in -- and in fact appeared cowed, an unexpected and rather amazing expression for Lydia. "What--" he began. The woman's gaze swept over the humans contemptuously, then focused on Elizabeth. She finally dropped one knee, briefly. "My Leader..." Elizabn the darkness of space. But she was leaving so much behind, and there might be no return... Boomer seemed to understand; he took her hand and held it tightly. She knew she'd made the right choice. * * * Commander Adama couldn't sleep, so he paced, hoping to wear himself out. He hadn't been able to sleep undisturbed for days. He had always been sensitive to what went on around him, sensitive almost to an empathy with the very cosmos. Now, something ate at his soul, brought him to the brink of despair, and made him wonder why he even tried. Baltar was out there, he knew. Baltar was there with his malevolent plans of revenge and destruction. He waited his chance. There were Cylons massing for an attack. They were coming, soon. Had he done enough to prepare his people? Were Colonial, Terran, and Sirian ready to face the onslaught? And how soon? But that wasn't all. And the other was potentially worse. What was it? He prayed for more time, but knew it The feeling released him; he felt mockery and resignation as it slowly withdrew. But he knew it wouldn't be gone for long. The sensation was familiar and terrifying. It came from the woman who loved/desired/possessed him. It came from Elizabeth. The Leader was returning. Which meant he was lost. Kyle curled into a ball in the shower and began to cry. Chapter Two: Challenges *T'car*. The friendly challenge, as it was called, which could be fought with a variety of weapons, always sheathed or power-damped for the occasion. In the first seasons at the Sirian Academy, that's all the cadets could participate in, even those with military experience or previous death duels--and in some Visitor territories, that maturity came early. The students were expected to be expert in all manner of attack and defense before they could risk their lives on their skills. Thrust. Parry. Wide swing. Leap high. Rapid breath of adrenaline excitement as the first tentative bloeth wore a faint smile. "So you have chosen a face and a name, Sirisi." "Yes." The woman stood again, continuing to ignore the others present, who were obviously of no consequence to her. "I have taken the name Juana, since that is your decree for this world, my Leader. But I must speak with you now regarding my son." "Douglas?" "That is what he is called here, but Shrikar is his name. I have discovered his fate, my Leader. I have learned that he is bonded to one of the human females, under the old Code." The woman's outrage was palpable. "My Leader, that is beyond any comprehension! To force him to submit to one of them, to bond him like a common criminal -- my son, the heir to one of the oldest houses of our people, kinsman to Raman himself, kinsman to your esteemed consort and our previous Leader, kinsman thus to *you*! How could this be allowed? And for what reason? For obeying the order of his commander? For lowering himself to honor one of *them* with his touch? My wouldn't be granted. * * * He thought he was choking. Flailing against an unseen strangler, Kyle Bates rolled out of bed and scrambled across the floor to the light switch. Trembling and gasping for breath, he stared around the small bedroom. No one was physically present, but the sensation remained. Cold fingers traced his spine and every muscle of his back. A chilling caress followed his shoulders down his arms to end in tingling fingertips. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to shake what had found him. It tightened around his throat again, and tendrils snaked up into his skull, taking his mind from his own control and lovingly molding his thoughts to suit itself. "No...no..." He raced into the hall, certain there was some place he could escape to and hide -- but where, in the small apartment? He ducked into the bathroom and locked the door. Trembling, he backed into the shower door and nearly put a hole in the door when he jumped away. "Please..." ws were traded. All the same, there were "accidents" every season. Genuine equipment failures. Mismatched opponents who weren't detected and stopped in time. Students who let hot-headedness overrule their skill and good judgment. Cadets who overestimated their readiness and ability, and fought without supervision or proper preparation. Instructors who let old vendettas and family quarrels overshadow their duty to their students. But death in *t'car* was at least considered honorable, if a waste. Slash. Jump back. Mike Donovan had tried his skill at *t'car* once, against Philip. That had almost been not just his end, but the end of the fragile truce between Visitor and Terran. Diana had made sure the weapons were fully charged; either of the two could easily have died. Feint. Dodge. Counter. The two Visitor females seemed evenly matched at first. Lucinda and Lydia put on a display of combat tactics and raw power that would have thrilled their one-time traineLeader, I demand his freedom at once!" Elizabeth's eyes had grown as cold as the mother's were fiery. "Juana," she said distantly, "you are aware that the woman he has *honored* did not desire his attentions?" Juana dismissed that with a wave and a grimace. "And that she is the daughter of a leader of our allies from the Colonies of Humanity? Of a house reputed, among them, to claim kinship to their rulers perhaps as anciently as six millennia ago?" She snorted her disdain, as if anything human mattered. "And that she has this very day given birth to a child sired by the heir to your house?" Juana froze, her eyes widening and her breath a sudden hiss. The slightest of smiles entered Elizabeth's expression, a cruel smile. "I did not believe--" the new arrival began. "He was not merely bonded to her by the Code for his action. By all the laws, his *life* was hers, as payment for the life of the child she carried." "The Code is ours, not theirs--" "By their The feeling released him; he felt mockery and resignation as it slowly withdrew. But he knew it wouldn't be gone for long. The sensation was familiar and terrifying. It came from the woman who loved/desired/possessed him. It came from Elizabeth. The Leader was returning. Which meant he was lost. Kyle curled into a ball in the shower and began to cry. Chapter Two: Challenges *T'car*. The friendly challenge, as it was called, which could be fought with a variety of weapons, always sheathed or power-damped for the occasion. In the first seasons at the Sirian Academy, that's all the cadets could participate in, even those with military experience or previous death duels--and in some Visitor territories, that maturity came early. The students were expected to be expert in all manner of attack and defense before they could risk their lives on their skills. Thrust. Parry. Wide swing. Leap high. Rapid breath of adrenaline excitement as the first tentative blors. Leather-booted feet moved surely on the warm, dry sand as they circled, their energy lances raised and ready. Deep concentration showed on painted faces, stained in traditional silver and black. The garish designs showed one's family and loyalties, and were also meant to intimidate the opponent. The appropriate garb was scanty, to protect a little but mostly to show when first blood had been drawn; the simple leatherwear halters, half-kilts, and elbow and knee pads were almost the same as the Hunters wore for that ceremony, but concealed none of the other weapons expected for the Hunt. Go for the legs. Dig sand. Another dodge as the opponent counterattacked. The well-matched combatants were otherwise very different. The blonde Lydia, so thoroughly human-looking, was a veteran of many duels, deadly and otherwise. Her style was light and quick, with formal, elegant moves that dazzled an audience as well as an opponent; with her military and security training, she was used t code, he belongs in prison for war crimes." Juana seemed to have shrunk into herself for a few seconds, then drew back. "We are an old house, you would not permit--" "Yes, an old house. And your old house has its newest heir today." Elizabeth drew herself to her full height; around her, the air seemed to crackle with electricity. Her words were sharp, delivered roughly as blows and with the same raw force, with an undercurrent of power; Juana all but staggered back as the Leader spoke. "Her name is Ileen, and may be added to your rolls, and she will bring the honor and acclaim one expects of your name. But she carries human blood -- of a house whose age and glory may be six *times* that of your own. And Douglas will pay the price, in our way, for his actions, for what both we *and* the humans acknowledge to be a wrong. Athena accepted him, and so it shall be. He remains with her and their daughter, for as long as she so desires. He will be released only if and when *she* allows ws were traded. All the same, there were "accidents" every season. Genuine equipment failures. Mismatched opponents who weren't detected and stopped in time. Students who let hot-headedness overrule their skill and good judgment. Cadets who overestimated their readiness and ability, and fought without supervision or proper preparation. Instructors who let old vendettas and family quarrels overshadow their duty to their students. But death in *t'car* was at least considered honorable, if a waste. Slash. Jump back. Mike Donovan had tried his skill at *t'car* once, against Philip. That had almost been not just his end, but the end of the fragile truce between Visitor and Terran. Diana had made sure the weapons were fully charged; either of the two could easily have died. Feint. Dodge. Counter. The two Visitor females seemed evenly matched at first. Lucinda and Lydia put on a display of combat tactics and raw power that would have thrilled their one-time traineo fighting alone, for her own protection only. The darker-tressed Lucinda, with her clear ruby-and-amber Sirian eyes, was a personal security officer on a ship of deadly, covert struggles. She knew the dueling styles, but her experience was against mercilessly-quick assassination attempts and regular battles; whatever defended was useful to know, and the primary purpose was not necessarily protection of self. Each took a fall or two, still testing each other's skill, probing for weakness. Each regained her feet without the requisite weapon's touch that, among Sirian fighters in *t'car*, would draw the drop of green that would mean combat was over. Each became more and more disheveled, but there was little of what humans would recognize as sweat to indicate that time and toll the duel commanded. Blood raced in their veins as the lances crossed, hooked for a moment, and had to be jerked free. Matching grunts of exertion and heavy panting as weariness began to tug at their bodies. Lit -- unless she chooses another fate for the one who willfully violated her," she concluded meaningfully. "And now," she verbally dismissed the woman, "I have things to discuss with my Wardens. Lydia, remain please. Philip, let us continue. Colonel Smith, if you have nothing to add at this point, perhaps you and your men will escort Juana to Leandra, in Protocol. For her rank, she is entitled to be housed here in the embassy; Leandra will make the arrangements." Smith had been starting to feel like a spider in the corner of the ceiling, for all the attention Elizabeth had given him and his men to that moment. He decided discretion would be better served if he didn't say anything to bring too much of *this* kind of attention to himself or his team. He just nodded and headed for the door. Peck, Murdock, and Baracus trailed behind, equally silent. Elizabeth's verbal display of power had impressed them as well. The Visitor woman was still in visible turmoil, trying to collect herrs. Leather-booted feet moved surely on the warm, dry sand as they circled, their energy lances raised and ready. Deep concentration showed on painted faces, stained in traditional silver and black. The garish designs showed one's family and loyalties, and were also meant to intimidate the opponent. The appropriate garb was scanty, to protect a little but mostly to show when first blood had been drawn; the simple leatherwear halters, half-kilts, and elbow and knee pads were almost the same as the Hunters wore for that ceremony, but concealed none of the other weapons expected for the Hunt. Go for the legs. Dig sand. Another dodge as the opponent counterattacked. The well-matched combatants were otherwise very different. The blonde Lydia, so thoroughly human-looking, was a veteran of many duels, deadly and otherwise. Her style was light and quick, with formal, elegant moves that dazzled an audience as well as an opponent; with her military and security training, she was used tydia had to give a step. Lucinda began to fight in earnest. Her attention was so focused on her opponent that her lance moved as if on its own. Barely able to throw off each successive attack, Lydia was forced back another step, then a third. "This...is...*t'car*!" Lydia panted, suddenly alarmed, feeling the abrupt additional blood-surge, followed by a wildfire thrill of frenzy; she fought it down, trying to read what was going on. Lucinda was fighting as if this were a death duel, as if they were mortal enemies. Maybe they were. She remembered clearly the the look on Lucinda's face when she'd challenged Michelle over that woman's kinship to the traitor James. Could this be revenge...? She should never have let herself be distracted by that moment's thought and fight for control. Her opponent whipped into her next moves. The lance went low, caught Lydia's knee pad. The blonde stumbled as she tried to jump back, but fell into the sand. Her lance caught in the sand and jerked thoughts and her breath. "Juana, did you say your name was?" Smith asked, rather pointedly taking her arm. "Actually, you look more like a Sophia than a Juana--" She threw him off with a shudder. "Of course, Douglas doesn't look much like you either way. Are you sure he's your son?" Venom dripped in her glare. "Oh, that's right, none of you look like you look anyway, do you, Senora Juana?" "Actually, Colonel, was it Juana--or *Ig*-Juana?" Faceman asked, grinning cordially. Murdock chose that moment to break into song. "I just Juana make love to you--" he warbled as he began a rowdy parody of a rock singer on stage. Disgust gleamed in alien eyes, and Juana stalked away in grim silence. "Hmm," Faceman added, watching her, "maybe we should've kept our guns after all. Woulda been safer." "No guns in the embassy, Face, you know that," Smith responded with an easy grin. "Too much temptation to use 'em." He sent another halo of smoke in the direction of the Vio fighting alone, for her own protection only. The darker-tressed Lucinda, with her clear ruby-and-amber Sirian eyes, was a personal security officer on a ship of deadly, covert struggles. She knew the dueling styles, but her experience was against mercilessly-quick assassination attempts and regular battles; whatever defended was useful to know, and the primary purpose was not necessarily protection of self. Each took a fall or two, still testing each other's skill, probing for weakness. Each regained her feet without the requisite weapon's touch that, among Sirian fighters in *t'car*, would draw the drop of green that would mean combat was over. Each became more and more disheveled, but there was little of what humans would recognize as sweat to indicate that time and toll the duel commanded. Blood raced in their veins as the lances crossed, hooked for a moment, and had to be jerked free. Matching grunts of exertion and heavy panting as weariness began to tug at their bodies. L out of her grip, falling bruisingly across her other arm and striking her forehead. Stunned for just a second, she didn't even try to roll aside. Lucinda raised her blade, poised for the killing lunge. Covered as the lance was, it would take tremendous strength to drive it into Lydia's body. And it would be a painful and bloody death if she then jerked the lance free of the other woman's flesh. Her mouth almost curved in a snarl of a smile. Hissing, Lydia groped for her lance, stinging poison dripping instinctively from the venom pits in her mouth. "Stop!" Philip's voice rang through the arena; both combatants froze in position. For a moment, Lucinda seemed tensed to spring forward, and a clearer-headed Lydia thought the lance would fall despite their superior's order. Then Michelle's voice added the command Lucinda would always obey. "*T'car* is done. The Inspector General's visit is finished; he and his party are leaving." Lucinda drew back slowly, still balancsitor woman. "And who could blame us?" "Crazy, man," B.A. contributed, shaking his head. The gold chains having heavily at his neck rattled noisily. "You all crazy..." * * * In the briefing room, just the three of them again, Elizabeth looked at Philip and Lydia. "Where is Kyle?" she demanded, changing the subject abruptly, something unexpected and unusual in her voice. The Wardens glanced at each other, surprised. "Kyle Bates? We...don't really know," Lydia ventured. "Michael Donovan reported he was missing, a few days ago. He has been trying to find him, and we have of course been keeping in touch with him about his attempts, but--" "But not helping?" the young Leader interrupted. "No, we... The humans have not asked for our help. We don't have the resources to search--" "I told you when I returned that I wanted to see him." "If you wish it so, we will offer our help to the humans in seeking him," Lydia said. "I wish it." With a glance at Philip,ydia had to give a step. Lucinda began to fight in earnest. Her attention was so focused on her opponent that her lance moved as if on its own. Barely able to throw off each successive attack, Lydia was forced back another step, then a third. "This...is...*t'car*!" Lydia panted, suddenly alarmed, feeling the abrupt additional blood-surge, followed by a wildfire thrill of frenzy; she fought it down, trying to read what was going on. Lucinda was fighting as if this were a death duel, as if they were mortal enemies. Maybe they were. She remembered clearly the the look on Lucinda's face when she'd challenged Michelle over that woman's kinship to the traitor James. Could this be revenge...? She should never have let herself be distracted by that moment's thought and fight for control. Her opponent whipped into her next moves. The lance went low, caught Lydia's knee pad. The blonde stumbled as she tried to jump back, but fell into the sand. Her lance caught in the sand and jerkeding on her soles as if she expected her opponent to spit venom or to jump up and counterattack in spite of the order. Lydia forced herself to her feet, her head still ringing. "That was well fought," Michelle commented coolly when Philip turned to her, accusation in his set mouth. "Few last long in *t'car* against Lucinda. But that pleasure is now over." She glanced at Lucinda. "You may return to your post." The female nodded briefly without response. "Inspector General, we look forward to your next visit." Michelle bowed slightly and moved away, her adjutant Nicholas trailing silently. Philip seized Lydia's arm and drew her after him without waiting for her to clean up or change back into her uniform. With the look on his face, she knew better than to say anything until they were safely alone -- and with two of Toronto's officers behind them, and with Damian's reputation, that would not be until they were off the mothership. * * * The duel had been witnessed by anot Lydia nodded. "I'll see to it immediately, my Leader." She left. Philip took the opportunity to ask, "Elizabeth, I know how you feel about Kyle. I know about your relationship before this. But--" He hesitated. "I must speak with him. And with you. About a matter of great importance to our peoples." She turned away. "I must return to the Mothership. I will be meeting with Commander Adama as soon as it can be arranged. I will let you know the time. In the meantime, inform me when Kyle has been located." "Yes, my Leader..." She was already gone. Philip stared at the door for a long time. Elizabeth had changed. Full Investiture had affected her greatly. The open, smiling young woman he had known and sent to Homeworld, who had loved Kyle Bates with a warm and open innocence, had become a secretive Leader, fixated on finding her human lover. Her abilities had grown; half the time, he wondered where her mind was. He knew that she spent much of her time on the Mothers out of her grip, falling bruisingly across her other arm and striking her forehead. Stunned for just a second, she didn't even try to roll aside. Lucinda raised her blade, poised for the killing lunge. Covered as the lance was, it would take tremendous strength to drive it into Lydia's body. And it would be a painful and bloody death if she then jerked the lance free of the other woman's flesh. Her mouth almost curved in a snarl of a smile. Hissing, Lydia groped for her lance, stinging poison dripping instinctively from the venom pits in her mouth. "Stop!" Philip's voice rang through the arena; both combatants froze in position. For a moment, Lucinda seemed tensed to spring forward, and a clearer-headed Lydia thought the lance would fall despite their superior's order. Then Michelle's voice added the command Lucinda would always obey. "*T'car* is done. The Inspector General's visit is finished; he and his party are leaving." Lucinda drew back slowly, still balancher cool pair of eyes. Diana studied Lucinda. Many times, she had wondered if the female could be persuaded to support her. After all, didn't her refusal to wear human eyes suggest where her loyalty lay? And wasn't she, Diana, a more fitting candidate for Leader than the half-breed? There were certainly positions and uses for an officer of Lucinda's cunning and skill, if she could be won over. And her position in Security could raise many opportunities that Diana knew she needed, if she were to survive and escape. Diana stepped from the shadow of the stairs as Philip and his party vanished through the opposite door. The security officer didn't glance at her as she brushed off the sand of the duel. "A pity you were not allowed to finish your battle. You would soon have been victorious," Diana commented lightly. Lucinda merely glanced at her with those unreadable eyes. "To anticipate victory in battle is to invite defeat to feast on your eggs." "Surely you don't mean Lydia cohip in trance, in her private chamber. From Commander Lloyd's reports, there had been times when tremendous energy surges had run through all ship's systems, traced directly to the Leader's quarters. The crew had nearly panicked the first time it happened; now it was routine. In meetings with her advisors, Elizabeth was reputed to wear lightning like a cloak around her shoulders and to glow like a blue star, when her emotions were aroused. Philip didn't know what all was involved in Investiture; it was a secretive, mystical religious rite as well as a civil ceremony. Parts of it had never been revealed, but were kept only by the Leader's personal priesthood. There were rumors that the rituals would take a fledgling leader into time and space beyond anything he or she would experience again, beyond anything rationally explainable or comprehensible. There were whispered tales of would-be Leaders who had gone insane in the rituals, and some who had not survived at all. Inevitably, Ining on her soles as if she expected her opponent to spit venom or to jump up and counterattack in spite of the order. Lydia forced herself to her feet, her head still ringing. "That was well fought," Michelle commented coolly when Philip turned to her, accusation in his set mouth. "Few last long in *t'car* against Lucinda. But that pleasure is now over." She glanced at Lucinda. "You may return to your post." The female nodded briefly without response. "Inspector General, we look forward to your next visit." Michelle bowed slightly and moved away, her adjutant Nicholas trailing silently. Philip seized Lydia's arm and drew her after him without waiting for her to clean up or change back into her uniform. With the look on his face, she knew better than to say anything until they were safely alone -- and with two of Toronto's officers behind them, and with Damian's reputation, that would not be until they were off the mothership. * * * The duel had been witnessed by anotuld have won!" she exclaimed in mock astonishment. "You had beaten her, she was but a moment from her death!" Something flashed in the other female's eyes, then she turned and padded away. Diana watched her go, looking thoughtful. There had been a message in the old quote, of that she was certain. But deciphering its meaning, and turning it to her advantage... And there was enmity between Lydia and Lucinda, if this duel was any indication. Perhaps she could use that too. Another Visitor soldier appeared in the corridor. He watched her, making no excuses for the attention. Diana knew well enough her guarded status; she let herself meet his gaze for the barest part of a second, to let him know she was aware of him. Then she deliberately turned away. * * * Damian sat before his control panel, still intent on the screen. He had watched avidly as the fight progressed, waiting -- hoping -- for first blood. Especially when it became obvious, to him, at least, that the first bvestiture brought change, not always for the better. With a somber expression, Philip returned to his desk. * * * Time had passed. She had no idea how much. Up here, she couldn't gauge by the sun's movement, her body's internal clock was completely out of alignment, and she had no way to see what was going on outside the asteroid, to follow Ceres' movements and shifts. The only thing by which she could determine time was the slow, steady drip of fluid she could hear, somewhere in the darkness. She assumed it was water, because she couldn't smell fuel or blood. Unless it was too far away, or the dust and debris were interfering with her normally keen sense of smell. She preferred to believe it was water. She kept her hand clasped around his, half afraid that if she once let go she would never find him back in this terrible stygian darkness. The sirens had screamed their warnings. He'd run for the bay. Instinct had kept her right behind him, certain that if there was aher cool pair of eyes. Diana studied Lucinda. Many times, she had wondered if the female could be persuaded to support her. After all, didn't her refusal to wear human eyes suggest where her loyalty lay? And wasn't she, Diana, a more fitting candidate for Leader than the half-breed? There were certainly positions and uses for an officer of Lucinda's cunning and skill, if she could be won over. And her position in Security could raise many opportunities that Diana knew she needed, if she were to survive and escape. Diana stepped from the shadow of the stairs as Philip and his party vanished through the opposite door. The security officer didn't glance at her as she brushed off the sand of the duel. "A pity you were not allowed to finish your battle. You would soon have been victorious," Diana commented lightly. Lucinda merely glanced at her with those unreadable eyes. "To anticipate victory in battle is to invite defeat to feast on your eggs." "Surely you don't mean Lydia colood would be from Lydia's heart. Philip had stopped the combat a moment too soon. But of equal interest was Diana's subsequent attempt to approach and subvert Lucinda. At the security officer's rebuff and departure, he began to laugh. * * * There were spare uniforms in the sky shuttle supply pods. Lydia dressed more fittingly before addressing Philip. "Do you trust Damian?" she asked bluntly upon returning to the command cabin. Her brother Nigel was the pilot; she trusted him with her soul. The Inspector General and Warden of the People glanced at her. "Because Michelle's *personal* security officer took it upon herself to challenge you to *t'car*?" She almost scowled, her face still painted for battle. "Because that was no *t'car* -- that was a death duel! You saw it in her face, her stance -- she fought for the right to feast on my heart!" "Lydia," he came back precisely, "you should have known better than to duel in *any* fashion, on that ship." The female noddednything she could do to help, he or Flint, the base's commander, would know. They hadn't reached it. Something had hit the asteroid. Around them, everything had shuddered; they had been thrown to the floor. There had been screams somewhere. By the time they jumped back to their feet, the grav generators had gone out, and Boomer's leap had sent him sailing into the ceiling. Hopefully just unconscious, he'd rebounded back toward the floor. She'd grabbed his hand as she drifted by him, following her own trajectory in the suddenly lessened gravity. He'd shifted his personal flight path and followed in her wake, and they'd both bounced gently off the wall and towards the floor again. The floor and walls had shaken again, and there had been the sounds of wrenching metal and grinding rock all around them. She had seen the cave-in behind them, no more than ten feet away; she'd only been able to hear the one in front of them, around a corridor or up a side shaft. She had tried to throwuld have won!" she exclaimed in mock astonishment. "You had beaten her, she was but a moment from her death!" Something flashed in the other female's eyes, then she turned and padded away. Diana watched her go, looking thoughtful. There had been a message in the old quote, of that she was certain. But deciphering its meaning, and turning it to her advantage... And there was enmity between Lydia and Lucinda, if this duel was any indication. Perhaps she could use that too. Another Visitor soldier appeared in the corridor. He watched her, making no excuses for the attention. Diana knew well enough her guarded status; she let herself meet his gaze for the barest part of a second, to let him know she was aware of him. Then she deliberately turned away. * * * Damian sat before his control panel, still intent on the screen. He had watched avidly as the fight progressed, waiting -- hoping -- for first blood. Especially when it became obvious, to him, at least, that the first b unwillingly. Yes, that ship was a battleground, but she still wanted to know who Philip trusted there, if anyone, and why. That had been one reason for the duel. As Philip's lover, she hoped he would trust to confide in her. At this point, it seemed he did not. "Do you trust anyone on that ship? If not Damian, then perhaps Michelle? One of the others? I recall a time you did not, though you cloaked your choices with concern for their status as a science vessel. Do you have an agent of your own among them now?" He studied her, his eyes burning through the fair, painted humanskin and false blue eyes to the Sirian reality beneath. Whatever he now believed, whatever he might have learned, he wasn't telling her. The humiliation was not lessened by her brother serving as witness. "I will assist in the flight cabin," she said stiffly, then moved to take the co-pilot seat, leaving Philip sitting alone, in silence. * * * Mike Donovan put down the phone, feeling disturbed. He'd herself over the man she loved to protect him from the slowly settling debris, grabbing one of the emergency handholds on the wall to keep them in one place. She'd realized, as the noise of the cave-in subsided, that she no longer heard human screams, and the sirens had ceased. Nor was she hearing the mechanical undercurrent that she'd only then realized she took for granted. Some level of gravity had come back; she had no way of knowing whether it had been restored by the crew or by automatic back-up generators. Then the lights had gone out, and they had been left in silent, utter blackness. After a time, she began to hear the slow plopping of water drops, somewhere. She hadn't let go of Boomer's hand since the darkness fell. She'd been afraid to move him in case he had more serious injuries. But he was breathing. His pulse continued. He was alive. "Boomer?" Mirella waited a moment, expecting no answer but desperate for some sign that he was regaining consciousness, that lood would be from Lydia's heart. Philip had stopped the combat a moment too soon. But of equal interest was Diana's subsequent attempt to approach and subvert Lucinda. At the security officer's rebuff and departure, he began to laugh. * * * There were spare uniforms in the sky shuttle supply pods. Lydia dressed more fittingly before addressing Philip. "Do you trust Damian?" she asked bluntly upon returning to the command cabin. Her brother Nigel was the pilot; she trusted him with her soul. The Inspector General and Warden of the People glanced at her. "Because Michelle's *personal* security officer took it upon herself to challenge you to *t'car*?" She almost scowled, her face still painted for battle. "Because that was no *t'car* -- that was a death duel! You saw it in her face, her stance -- she fought for the right to feast on my heart!" "Lydia," he came back precisely, "you should have known better than to duel in *any* fashion, on that ship." The female noddedbeen trying to reach Kyle for two days. The young man hadn't returned any of his calls. His landlord said he hadn't been around the apartment building in that time. He hadn't been at work, and none of his close friends admitted to having seen him. Where the hell was Kyle? He left the station, very concerned. Later that night, when Kyle still wasn't answering his call, he decided it was time to get worried. He made some more calls and called in some favors. Nobody knew. * * * "Commander, Lieutenant Boomer has just landed," Flight Officer Omega reported formally. "He and his companion are in decontamination in Alpha Bay." The commander didn't hear him at first, sitting at the other officer's station. He remained lost in concentration, continuing to stare intently at the starscreen, one arm supporting the other, a half-curled fist resting lightly against his lips. His junior officer stepped closer to the railing, towering over the commander even from the lower step.he wasn't going to die here beside her. Finally, she heard him groan, and felt his fingers clenching on hers. "Boomer?" she asked again. He groaned again; in the absolute stillness, she heard fabric swish against metal, then felt him shift his weight. "Can you move?" she asked quietly. "Unnhhhh... Yeah..." "Not too fast!" she cautioned. "The gravity's down to maybe ten percent." "I...can tell." He moved more slowly. She reached out and helped him sit up, keeping him close enough to lean against her. "How do you feel?" "My head hurts." A pause; she felt him move. "But it feels just bruised. What happened, Mirella?" "The sirens were going off. You said it was an attack warning. Then things started shaking and falling apart. I think you knocked yourself out on the ceiling when the gravity went." He grunted noncommittally. She felt him moving for a moment, then he asked, "Nothing feels broken. How long was I out?" "I don't know. A while." "I unwillingly. Yes, that ship was a battleground, but she still wanted to know who Philip trusted there, if anyone, and why. That had been one reason for the duel. As Philip's lover, she hoped he would trust to confide in her. At this point, it seemed he did not. "Do you trust anyone on that ship? If not Damian, then perhaps Michelle? One of the others? I recall a time you did not, though you cloaked your choices with concern for their status as a science vessel. Do you have an agent of your own among them now?" He studied her, his eyes burning through the fair, painted humanskin and false blue eyes to the Sirian reality beneath. Whatever he now believed, whatever he might have learned, he wasn't telling her. The humiliation was not lessened by her brother serving as witness. "I will assist in the flight cabin," she said stiffly, then moved to take the co-pilot seat, leaving Philip sitting alone, in silence. * * * Mike Donovan put down the phone, feeling disturbed. He'd "Boomer is back, sir, with the scientist Mirella Lincoln. Do you have any orders for them?" "Hmm?" Adama glanced at him. "Lieutenant Boomer, sir," Omega repeated uncomfortably. "Ah." He let his eyes wander back to the screen. "I'll meet them in my quarters as soon as they've completed decontamination. Have them report there." "Yes, sir." Omega stepped back and touched his headset to activate the "send" command. "Anything else, sir?" After a momentary silence, the commander shook his head. "Not at the moment, officer. Thank you." Omega knew better than to say anything after those brittle words. A few moments later, Adama stood up and descended the command dais. "Inform me at once if there are any reports from Colonel Tigh, Dr. Wilker, or Lieutenant Commander Mitchell. Include any other reports in the daily log." "Yes, sir...and Captain Apollo?" Omega added as it occurred to him that Adama had not listed his son and flight commander as among those who could it's still warm. And we've still got air to breathe." "I noticed." "So there are two possibilities -- either the base is still running and the techs are working on things, or the automatic back-ups kicked in and are still functioning. If there are people out there working on things, we'll be rescued as soon as they get this far. If it's all just automatic...there's not necessarily anyone alive to help us." "I haven't heard any noise to suggest human activity." "We wouldn't be able to, from here... How far do you think we could move?" "The corridor's caved in behind us, the direction of the viewing chamber; maybe a dozen yards, it could have gotten us if we'd been walking instead of running. The other way, I'm not sure how far, but I heard something collapsing there too." "The viewing chamber. We knew that would be a weak spot in an attack. It was supposed to seal automatically in an alert, but we didn't have time to test it. I wonder if it took a hit." They sat silbeen trying to reach Kyle for two days. The young man hadn't returned any of his calls. His landlord said he hadn't been around the apartment building in that time. He hadn't been at work, and none of his close friends admitted to having seen him. Where the hell was Kyle? He left the station, very concerned. Later that night, when Kyle still wasn't answering his call, he decided it was time to get worried. He made some more calls and called in some favors. Nobody knew. * * * "Commander, Lieutenant Boomer has just landed," Flight Officer Omega reported formally. "He and his companion are in decontamination in Alpha Bay." The commander didn't hear him at first, sitting at the other officer's station. He remained lost in concentration, continuing to stare intently at the starscreen, one arm supporting the other, a half-curled fist resting lightly against his lips. His junior officer stepped closer to the railing, towering over the commander even from the lower step.nterrupt whatever he planned to say to Lieutenant Boomer. Adama's eyes swept over him. "Include his reports in the daily log, unless there is an emergency," he stated flatly. Feeling cowed and unnecessarily rebuked, the flight officer kept his silence as Adama left the command center. Looking around him, he suddenly realized the entire chamber had fallen silent, and everyone was staring either at him or at the empty corridor into which their commander had disappeared. Uncertain what to say or feel, he resumed his station, hoping somebody knew what was going on in the commander's thoughts--and that those thoughts were stable and sane. * * * Johnny B. enjoyed the night. He could play his guitar and power his own light show and revel in every sensation of being on stage. The music was his own, the lyrics were his own, played and sang at his own pacing. He danced as he played, the instrument a partner wilder than any woman would be. It was a song of liberation and love for life anently for a while. "Do you feel up to moving yet, Boomer?" "A few more cent -- minutes, Mirella." She felt his grip tighten on her hand for a second. She could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. "I knew you'd fit in my world." "What do you mean?" "We've got to find out how extensive the damage is, and if there's anywhere we can reach from here, if there are other survivors we can reach. Maybe there are tools or weapons we can get to." A little puzzled, she asked, "And how does that convince you I'd fit in?" "You knew we'd have to move, and that we couldn't just sit here on our astrums waiting for someone else to save us. You're thinking like a warrior." "Do I have to remind you I wasn't a civilian back on Earth?" He laughed, a rich sound that echoed off the metal walls, that told her more than anything else that he would be okay -- if they got out of here alive. "Let's get moving." * * * Sirisi had shredded the fingers of her humanskin hand "Boomer is back, sir, with the scientist Mirella Lincoln. Do you have any orders for them?" "Hmm?" Adama glanced at him. "Lieutenant Boomer, sir," Omega repeated uncomfortably. "Ah." He let his eyes wander back to the screen. "I'll meet them in my quarters as soon as they've completed decontamination. Have them report there." "Yes, sir." Omega stepped back and touched his headset to activate the "send" command. "Anything else, sir?" After a momentary silence, the commander shook his head. "Not at the moment, officer. Thank you." Omega knew better than to say anything after those brittle words. A few moments later, Adama stood up and descended the command dais. "Inform me at once if there are any reports from Colonel Tigh, Dr. Wilker, or Lieutenant Commander Mitchell. Include any other reports in the daily log." "Yes, sir...and Captain Apollo?" Omega added as it occurred to him that Adama had not listed his son and flight commander as among those who could id freedom; now that the big war was over, and there were still none of those "Cylons" in view, Johnny thought he might even be able to take some time for his music career. The only thing missing tonight was the crowd. The stage was in an empty auditorium that normally served as a lecture/meeting hall for the personnel at Humanidyne. His only audience was Billy Hayes and El Lincoln. Both clapped appropriately, though Johnny knew hard rock wasn't a favorite of either of them. "Good performance, I like the song," Billy called as he exited the huge chamber. "Gotta get some sleep tonight, see you tomorrow." "Yeah, thanks, sorry I kept you," Johnny muttered as El made similar comments and disappeared. Deflated, he began to pack up his gear. It was hard to be enthusiastic about something when no one around him knew or cared much about it. Gloria might like it, she liked his kind of music, but she'd had other things to do tonight and hadn't stuck around for the premiere. Feeling seriousls. She couldn't stop clenching her hands, and her claws were partially unsheathing with each angry movement, ripping through the thin, sensation-carrying material. She stood on the balcony of her chamber, glaring murderously out at Los Angeles, at the human-infested warren that presumed to call itself a city. Other than her hands, the Visitor female appeared a normal, somewhat past middle aged human woman, dark-eyes, somewhat dark-complexioned, her dark hair just beginning to streak with a very attractive silver. At the moment, her slender, even features carried every nuance of the rage beneath them. Sirisi hissed her fury. Somewhere in this mammalian den, her son, Shrikar -- heir to the proudest house of the Sirians -- was the bonded prisoner of a human female. And the Leader had ordered and still condoned it. He was forced to wear a human face and to use the human name "Douglas." There could be no greater evidence of where the loyalties of the half-Sirian, half-human-animal Lnterrupt whatever he planned to say to Lieutenant Boomer. Adama's eyes swept over him. "Include his reports in the daily log, unless there is an emergency," he stated flatly. Feeling cowed and unnecessarily rebuked, the flight officer kept his silence as Adama left the command center. Looking around him, he suddenly realized the entire chamber had fallen silent, and everyone was staring either at him or at the empty corridor into which their commander had disappeared. Uncertain what to say or feel, he resumed his station, hoping somebody knew what was going on in the commander's thoughts--and that those thoughts were stable and sane. * * * Johnny B. enjoyed the night. He could play his guitar and power his own light show and revel in every sensation of being on stage. The music was his own, the lyrics were his own, played and sang at his own pacing. He danced as he played, the instrument a partner wilder than any woman would be. It was a song of liberation and love for life any depressed, he made his way to his car. He had the sudden feeling that he wasn't alone. Glancing around the covered, shadowed parking lot -- a holdover from the war days -- he searched for an observer. Someone was waiting next to his wheels. "Hi, Johnny." "Kyle Bates!" They'd been friends even before the invasion, but hadn't spent much time together since. "Brother, you look like every spook in Collinwood is after you! What's up?" "The Leader's coming back." Kyle's voice was dull. "So?" Johnny grinned. "Don't kid me, I know how close you were to Elizabeth. That should have you bouncing off the walls!" "She's not Elizabeth any more. She's the Leader." His friend shuddered. "And she can sense me, she follows me. I need a place to hide, and nobody else can do it. I can't even go to Mike. Help me, Johnny." "Hey..." This was serious. "Get in the car, let's talk." In the dome light's gleam, Johnny could see that Kyle looked worse than he sounded. Both dooeader really lay. Elizabeth, the supposed Leader of their nation, would not allow the People to use their own faces and names on her mother's world. She debased them. She was not fit to lead. "Madam Juana?" She didn't deign to respond to Leandra's deferential greeting. "There is a call for you, Madam. From Commander Damian, of the Toronto Mother ship." There was only one ally she might be able to count on now -- her old friend and kinsman Rikkir. He could not possibly support this false leader. He would help her. She thought of everything she knew about him, everything she remembered from her cousin's younger days. Yes, he would help her. One way or another. But not like this. She reached up and ripped off the dark, silver-streaked wig to bare her crest, then pulled away the face. She would face Rikkir as a Sirian. * * * It had been a pleasurable vacation to return to their natural skin and face, but for Willie, appearing human again felt like comd freedom; now that the big war was over, and there were still none of those "Cylons" in view, Johnny thought he might even be able to take some time for his music career. The only thing missing tonight was the crowd. The stage was in an empty auditorium that normally served as a lecture/meeting hall for the personnel at Humanidyne. His only audience was Billy Hayes and El Lincoln. Both clapped appropriately, though Johnny knew hard rock wasn't a favorite of either of them. "Good performance, I like the song," Billy called as he exited the huge chamber. "Gotta get some sleep tonight, see you tomorrow." "Yeah, thanks, sorry I kept you," Johnny muttered as El made similar comments and disappeared. Deflated, he began to pack up his gear. It was hard to be enthusiastic about something when no one around him knew or cared much about it. Gloria might like it, she liked his kind of music, but she'd had other things to do tonight and hadn't stuck around for the premiere. Feeling seriouslrs closed, and they were back in the dark. Seat belts on, and key in the ignition. Turn down the blast of music. Idle the motor; key card to hand; punch out. Kyle didn't say a word. About a mile down the freeway, Johnny decided to ask. "I thought we were going to talk. Tell me what's buggin' you." "I need a place to hide." "From Elizabeth?" He decided to take Kyle at his word. "Okay, say you do want to hide from her. From everything I've heard about what she's become, that won't be easy. Where do you suggest you go? And how can I help?" Kyle was staring into approaching headlights and didn't respond until the car had passed. "I know about that girl at Humanidyne, the one who can do things." "What about Gloria?" "She can hide me." "How?" "With her mind. And maybe she's got friends, I heard something about other people like her, from that guy they call Archangel. She can hide me. Take me to her." Johnny stared at him, and almost missed his exit. At ting home. He was looking forward to meeting Mike and Julie for lunch, and then Robin wanted him to go with her to the hospital to see the human Athena and her child, possibly another Starchild. People in the embassy greeted him with smiles and obvious pleasure. Here, it didn't matter that he had begun as a lowly trooper from a small, powerless clan. Here, the people who greeted him weren't ambitious nobles wanting access to the Leader, who thought he would be grateful for their condescending or fawning attention. Here, the ones he met and talked to were friends. The humans who welcomed him back had appreciated his gentle nature and kindness when the Visitors were still enemies; they were the ones he'd ultimately fought beside, and would continue to fight beside. Freshened up and once again the Willie his friends had known, he stepped outside onto the embassy grounds. He would wait for Thelma, his beloved Hisseye, and they would head to Science Frontiers. He saw a skyfighter appey depressed, he made his way to his car. He had the sudden feeling that he wasn't alone. Glancing around the covered, shadowed parking lot -- a holdover from the war days -- he searched for an observer. Someone was waiting next to his wheels. "Hi, Johnny." "Kyle Bates!" They'd been friends even before the invasion, but hadn't spent much time together since. "Brother, you look like every spook in Collinwood is after you! What's up?" "The Leader's coming back." Kyle's voice was dull. "So?" Johnny grinned. "Don't kid me, I know how close you were to Elizabeth. That should have you bouncing off the walls!" "She's not Elizabeth any more. She's the Leader." His friend shuddered. "And she can sense me, she follows me. I need a place to hide, and nobody else can do it. I can't even go to Mike. Help me, Johnny." "Hey..." This was serious. "Get in the car, let's talk." In the dome light's gleam, Johnny could see that Kyle looked worse than he sounded. Both doohe last second he had to swerve to get into the right lane. He had to think hard. "Kyle, if she comes back looking for you, and can't find you..." he began seriously, then stopped, not knowing how to finish. "Some people know Gloria, know about her -- and the others. They could...well, figure it out, if this weird Leader is looking for you, and can't find you. She might figure it out. She might track you to Gloria." "Then hide us both. I've got to hide. Johnny, help me, you're the only person I know with the connections. Find me a place to hide where she can't track me with her mind." Johnny risked another glance at him, troubled, then made up his mind. This was a decision he couldn't make for someone else. A glance in the rearview mirror, and he put the car into a 180-degree spin. Back to the freeway, and from there to Gloria's house. * * * For the rest of the world, the war with the Visitors was over. It was a brief time of peace while Terra prepared for a war with ar above him, then drop behind the trees of the embassy grounds. Intrigued, he crossed the few yards of grass and stepped into a rose hedge from where he could see the landing pad. The skyfighter had landed. As Willie watched, one of his people came through one of the side doors of the embassy and crossed purposefully to the little ship. A trooper in the distinctive black and silver uniform of the Toronto Mothership stepped out and respectfully dropped back his head, baring his throat to the female in formal Visitor style. Willie recognized the Lady Sirisi as she climbed aboard. He was shocked. By now she should have been wearing full humanskin. She wasn't. And her expression had been cold and hard. The Toronto Ship trooper hopped back into the skyfighter. A second later, it was airborne. Troubled, Willie watched the ship until it vanished in the sky. The Lady Sirisi was in direct violation of Elizabeth's orders. From what he'd learned and observed of her on the trip bars closed, and they were back in the dark. Seat belts on, and key in the ignition. Turn down the blast of music. Idle the motor; key card to hand; punch out. Kyle didn't say a word. About a mile down the freeway, Johnny decided to ask. "I thought we were going to talk. Tell me what's buggin' you." "I need a place to hide." "From Elizabeth?" He decided to take Kyle at his word. "Okay, say you do want to hide from her. From everything I've heard about what she's become, that won't be easy. Where do you suggest you go? And how can I help?" Kyle was staring into approaching headlights and didn't respond until the car had passed. "I know about that girl at Humanidyne, the one who can do things." "What about Gloria?" "She can hide me." "How?" "With her mind. And maybe she's got friends, I heard something about other people like her, from that guy they call Archangel. She can hide me. Take me to her." Johnny stared at him, and almost missed his exit. At tthe mysterious, computerized Cylons. But for some old soldiers, war never ended. For the mercenaries, there was always another battle somewhere, to be fought with every weapon and tactic learned from a lifetime of combat. In an early winter evening, two of those mercenaries lounged in a peculiar little establishment referred to as the "Safe House." Ham Tyler sat at a table in one of its half-concealed niches, waiting for his contact. His associate, a heavy-set, bearded man in old military fatigues, stood guard in nearby shadows, leaning against one of the place's several bars. No one could tell they were armed. The war with the Visitors might be over, but there were still Visitor agents and collaborators free on the planet. A man entered through the standard bookshelf, a bemused expression on his handsome face. Despite the normative jeans and fur-lined jacket, he looked very out of place as he stepped up to the bar, his direct blue eyes scanning quickly. His stance and a sense of ck to Earth, she had no interest in science -- what business could she have on the Toronto Mothership? What was going on? * * * It was her wedding day. Cassiopeia woke with a start, wondering why she was sitting here in an Earth hospital instead of in the antechamber of the Temple of the Word of the Lords of Kobol. She should be getting ready to meet the man she loved, to stand before Adama and be sealed to her lover for all the eternities... She stood up, and caught a glimpse of herself reflected from the window between the waiting area and the natal ward -- nursery, the Terrans called it. Only then did she realize she was already dressed for her sealing. She wore the sleeveless gold shift most Aerian woman still chose, with the shimmering red and orange overnet that made a woman look like a walking flame. The flame that symbolically burned away her past life's separateness and lit the hearth of her new home and family, and that also, whispered the grandmothers in knowing the last second he had to swerve to get into the right lane. He had to think hard. "Kyle, if she comes back looking for you, and can't find you..." he began seriously, then stopped, not knowing how to finish. "Some people know Gloria, know about her -- and the others. They could...well, figure it out, if this weird Leader is looking for you, and can't find you. She might figure it out. She might track you to Gloria." "Then hide us both. I've got to hide. Johnny, help me, you're the only person I know with the connections. Find me a place to hide where she can't track me with her mind." Johnny risked another glance at him, troubled, then made up his mind. This was a decision he couldn't make for someone else. A glance in the rearview mirror, and he put the car into a 180-degree spin. Back to the freeway, and from there to Gloria's house. * * * For the rest of the world, the war with the Visitors was over. It was a brief time of peace while Terra prepared for a war with sophistication about him suggested he belonged in a five-star restaurant in London or Paris rather than an oddball tavern in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A grin twisted Tyler's face as he watched, recognizing the agent. A moment later the bartender came up to the stranger. After a moment's conversation, the barkeep starting laughing, shaking all the way down to his shoes. "You want a *what*? In *here*? How about a Spy's Demise?" Ham raised a hand in a casual gesture. The bartender, a man who went by the codename of "Ursus," caught the look and nodded minutely, then pointed the newcomer his way. Seconds later the British agent was seated beside Tyler. "Colonial provincials!" he stated. "Can't even make a vodka martini..." "Just gotta know what to ask for," Tyler returned easily. "So what'd you find out?" The man cocked his head. "Believe in getting down to business, don't you, Tyler?" "Always. Unless the contact is a leggy blonde. Which you aren't, James." "No. But ones, represented the flame of love and passion that burned in the heart of every bride for her new husband and the glories of their wedding night. Her hair was piled atop her head, wreathed around the gold metallic ribbon that bound the single gemstone, one large gem that emulated the pulsing of the single star in the Void, the single star that illuminated Kobol. It called to her husband and marked her as his only one, the only one he would see and come home to, as the single star called to humans and reminded them of their ancestral home in a sea of nothingness. It was a family gem, worn by the brides of her mother's family for nearly five hundred yahrens, passed in the succeeding generations to the oldest granddaughter of the keeper of the stone, through the female line, worn by the sisters and cousins before being passed to the keeper for the next generations. There was no one else from her family who had survived the Destruction; she would be the only one of her generation to wear it,the mysterious, computerized Cylons. But for some old soldiers, war never ended. For the mercenaries, there was always another battle somewhere, to be fought with every weapon and tactic learned from a lifetime of combat. In an early winter evening, two of those mercenaries lounged in a peculiar little establishment referred to as the "Safe House." Ham Tyler sat at a table in one of its half-concealed niches, waiting for his contact. His associate, a heavy-set, bearded man in old military fatigues, stood guard in nearby shadows, leaning against one of the place's several bars. No one could tell they were armed. The war with the Visitors might be over, but there were still Visitor agents and collaborators free on the planet. A man entered through the standard bookshelf, a bemused expression on his handsome face. Despite the normative jeans and fur-lined jacket, he looked very out of place as he stepped up to the bar, his direct blue eyes scanning quickly. His stance and a sense of I...see your point." Precisely such a waitress stopped by long enough to drop off a napkin and a menu, flashing a smile and a healthy cleavage. "Are we secure?" "That bad, is it? No place better than a safe house. We got Ursus behind the bar and Archer and some of their group scattered inside and out," Tyler delivered in a flat yet somehow amused voice. The Brit nodded, scanning the menu, his finger moving from one to another of the listed beverages. Some of the American Midwestern Resistance people had made quite a name for themselves in the guerrilla warfare it had taken to free the cities along the shores of the Great Lakes of North America. "We've discovered evidence of two enclaves of Visitor rebels. I'm in charge of the team trailing one of them. 'M' believes your team would best be given charge of rooting out the other." "Why?" "It's based in North America, somewhere in the Midwest. We aren't sure where. And we aren't sure where they're getting their supply of th she and any daughters she might have. Her little flowermaid handed her the simple bouquet -- Earth flowers, white peace lilies and greenery. Ileen's face was solemn with her heavy responsibility. Athena was her first companion, dressed in blue. She smiled and took Cassie's hand for a micron, then, as music swelled in the corridor, she turned and began to lead the way down the hall past the nursery. Ileen fell into step behind her; Cassie followed mother and daughter. The door opened. There stood Commander Adama, waiting expectantly, dressed opulently for the ceremony, in a silver hooded robe. Starbuck stood beside him, with Apollo as groom's supporter. No one else was there. But who else was needed? Her eyes grew misty, gazing at the man she loved. She walked down the empty aisle, unable to keep from smiling, until she stood beside him. "Are you ready?" Adama asked, his voice booming deep. "Yes..." "Uh, just one centon..." Starbuck held up a hand. "Starbusophistication about him suggested he belonged in a five-star restaurant in London or Paris rather than an oddball tavern in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A grin twisted Tyler's face as he watched, recognizing the agent. A moment later the bartender came up to the stranger. After a moment's conversation, the barkeep starting laughing, shaking all the way down to his shoes. "You want a *what*? In *here*? How about a Spy's Demise?" Ham raised a hand in a casual gesture. The bartender, a man who went by the codename of "Ursus," caught the look and nodded minutely, then pointed the newcomer his way. Seconds later the British agent was seated beside Tyler. "Colonial provincials!" he stated. "Can't even make a vodka martini..." "Just gotta know what to ask for," Tyler returned easily. "So what'd you find out?" The man cocked his head. "Believe in getting down to business, don't you, Tyler?" "Always. Unless the contact is a leggy blonde. Which you aren't, James." "No. But e antidote. The information is on a microdot currently residing on the left leg of...Rahab the Harlot, it's called." He laid aside the menu as if prepared to order. Tyler almost laughed. A brief nod eased the obvious concern of Chris Farber, still watching intently. Another waitress appeared, a cuddly, buxom brunette. She took the menu with a sunny smile. "Tell the X-Man that Rahab's legs need waxing," Tyler said, leaning back. The waitress giggled. "Okay. And what'll you have?" she directed at James. "Are you certain a man can't get a decent vodka martini here?" The giggles turned into peals of laughter as the girl made her way to the bar. The drink menu was whisked away with her. A moment later, another man came through the bookshelf entrance. The dark-haired man stamped the December snow from his boots and opened his jacket to reveal a bright green sweater with a griffin design. He sent a warning glance at Tyler before strolling toward the bar. "Archer sack..." She went cold. He wasn't going to back out here, in front of Adama, in front of their friends, in front of the Lords of Kobol, was he? "You need to see the real me, right?" He scratched at his neck for a micron, then began to peel back his face. His smile disappeared as the skin ripped and crumpled, revealing the green-and-tan flecked lizard face below-- She began to scream-- * * * Baltar stared in utter disbelief at the Colonial Warrior swaggering across the bay of the Cylon base ship. "I can't believe it," he breathed. "He's really one of your people? He looks exactly like Starbuck. He even walks like Starbuck..." Diana smiled in her superior fashion. "I had Loren review every available image of the lieutenant, and all the information Apollo so graciously provided me, when he was my guest, about his commander and his fellow warriors." She could see Baltar's eyes dilate greedily, then fearfully. Information that he had desired to learn for the last three I...see your point." Precisely such a waitress stopped by long enough to drop off a napkin and a menu, flashing a smile and a healthy cleavage. "Are we secure?" "That bad, is it? No place better than a safe house. We got Ursus behind the bar and Archer and some of their group scattered inside and out," Tyler delivered in a flat yet somehow amused voice. The Brit nodded, scanning the menu, his finger moving from one to another of the listed beverages. Some of the American Midwestern Resistance people had made quite a name for themselves in the guerrilla warfare it had taken to free the cities along the shores of the Great Lakes of North America. "We've discovered evidence of two enclaves of Visitor rebels. I'm in charge of the team trailing one of them. 'M' believes your team would best be given charge of rooting out the other." "Why?" "It's based in North America, somewhere in the Midwest. We aren't sure where. And we aren't sure where they're getting their supply of thys something's up. We'd better get out of here. When you're ready to leave, have Bonnie -- our first waitress -- show you the secret passage." "The information?" the British agent insisted tensely. "I'll have it decoded in an hour. We'll be on it by morning. Thanks." Tyler vanished in the crowd, as did several other individuals who'd been loitering about. The waitress -- the blonde again -- reappeared with a credible imitation of a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred, and a glass of something green that smelled rather sweet. Britain's premier secret agent watched in amusement as several obvious outsiders entered the bar, trying to be inconspicuous as they searched for their now-vanished quarry. None of those already present seemed ready to help the strangers in the least. The blonde pulled off her apron and slipped into the bench opposite him. The wadded-up apron vanished into the darkness under the table. She picked up the green drink and smiled at James. "I'm Bonnie Macyears, denied by every prisoner taken, but freely given to her -- and by Apollo, Adama's own son, the last warrior he would have expected to break under any circumstances. He wanted that power for himself; he feared it being used against him. She filed that knowledge away for herself. Lucifer, the IL-Series that seemed constantly at Baltar's elbow, seemed less excited. "Does your imitation Starbuck smoke fumarellos and play pyramid? From my encounters with him when Lieutenant Starbuck was our prisoner before, those skills are essential to anyone attempting to carry out that role." "Those details didn't escape me," she noted scornfully. "Loren -- now Starbuck -- is quite capable of playing pyramid, and has already done so, with my clones. As to fumarellos..." She hesitated a second, then shrugged. "Our people find them disgusting. The smoke is almost as damaging to our pulmonary systems as their bacteria. But I suspect Starbuck will be able avoid having to smoke anything, for thee antidote. The information is on a microdot currently residing on the left leg of...Rahab the Harlot, it's called." He laid aside the menu as if prepared to order. Tyler almost laughed. A brief nod eased the obvious concern of Chris Farber, still watching intently. Another waitress appeared, a cuddly, buxom brunette. She took the menu with a sunny smile. "Tell the X-Man that Rahab's legs need waxing," Tyler said, leaning back. The waitress giggled. "Okay. And what'll you have?" she directed at James. "Are you certain a man can't get a decent vodka martini here?" The giggles turned into peals of laughter as the girl made her way to the bar. The drink menu was whisked away with her. A moment later, another man came through the bookshelf entrance. The dark-haired man stamped the December snow from his boots and opened his jacket to reveal a bright green sweater with a griffin design. He sent a warning glance at Tyler before strolling toward the bar. "Archer saTaggert. Cheers!" she said brightly, lifting her glass in a toast. He leaned foward in one graceful, sophisticated motion and touched her glass with his, saying with a self-assured smile, "Ahh, a bonnie MacTaggert indeed. I've always loved the Highlands--" Under the table, a hand touched her knee. "--and the Lowlands. My name is Bond, James Bond..." * * * Starbuck was out of breath. He still hadn't adjusted completely to the slightly lighter gravity and lesser air density of this world. The physical exercises were supposed to make life on Earth easier for the Colonials, but he wasn't convinced it was making much difference in him. For the children, maybe, but not the adults. He was, however, absolutely certain that long runs at this time of morning were not going to do him much good. He stopped running long enough to catch his breath, and stared up at the starry night; there was just a hint of dawn color to the east. With the skill of long practice, he located the planet t time he will have to be around others who know him well enough to know of that predilection." "Umm." The IL wasn't impressed. "Being able to *play* pyramid, and playing it with Starbuck's style, are two different matters. Finding herself irritated, Diana snapped, "Loren will do whatever is necessary to carry out his mission, as he has always done." The new Starbuck had reached them. Obviously pleased at Diana's praise, he raised his chin and added boastfully, "As I took care of Juliet, letting it look like Lucinda's people were responsible for her death." The easy smile was Starbuck's, but the words could never be. "Indeed," Lucifer said, noncommittally. "Lucifer," Baltar laughed, "if I didn't know better, I'd suspect you of secretly wanting this mission to fail, just to prove our prisoner is irreplaceable! One might think you actually liked him!" If a walking computer could shrug, Lucifer would have. "I am merely reminding you that humans are...uniquely individual, ays something's up. We'd better get out of here. When you're ready to leave, have Bonnie -- our first waitress -- show you the secret passage." "The information?" the British agent insisted tensely. "I'll have it decoded in an hour. We'll be on it by morning. Thanks." Tyler vanished in the crowd, as did several other individuals who'd been loitering about. The waitress -- the blonde again -- reappeared with a credible imitation of a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred, and a glass of something green that smelled rather sweet. Britain's premier secret agent watched in amusement as several obvious outsiders entered the bar, trying to be inconspicuous as they searched for their now-vanished quarry. None of those already present seemed ready to help the strangers in the least. The blonde pulled off her apron and slipped into the bench opposite him. The wadded-up apron vanished into the darkness under the table. She picked up the green drink and smiled at James. "I'm Bonnie Mache Terrans called Mars. Several Caprican and Sagittaran technical teams were on that planet, he knew, teams skilled in the art of geo-adaptation. It was an old engineering art, going back before the war; many of the Colonial penal asteroids and several other colonies had been adapted or outright reformed to make them more easily habitable by humans. They were now doing the same to the smaller fourth world of system Sol. He'd heard rumors the engineers and technicians were optimistic that Mars could be adapted in less than two centuries. Two hundred Earth years, and humans could walk the surface of Mars without oxygen masks or pressure suits -- Colonial humans, at least, used to a less dense atmosphere and lower gravity. Another bit of technology that awed their Terran brothers. Even the Sirian Visitors, who had some techniques for world-modeling themselves, and had more-or-less crafted their own Homeworld, were amazed at the innovations the Colonials had made. "Hey, Wings!" came thnd are known by that uniqueness. A mere caricature of a warrior may be easily detected. Your Starbuck may not pass as easily as you believe he will." "He only has to pass for a few days, and mostly among humans who will not know him. At least, they will not know him well." Diana turned back to Loren. "Good hunting, Loren." "You mean Starbuck, right? Be back before you know it, Commander. You too, Tinsel-teeth." He grinned easily and nodded, then turned and climbed into the waiting Viper -- Starbuck's Viper, repaired and refueled, and ready for flight. Ready to return to Earth... Taggert. Cheers!" she said brightly, lifting her glass in a toast. He leaned foward in one graceful, sophisticated motion and touched her glass with his, saying with a self-assured smile, "Ahh, a bonnie MacTaggert indeed. I've always loved the Highlands--" Under the table, a hand touched her knee. "--and the Lowlands. My name is Bond, James Bond..." * * * Starbuck was out of breath. He still hadn't adjusted completely to the slightly lighter gravity and lesser air density of this world. The physical exercises were supposed to make life on Earth easier for the Colonials, but he wasn't convinced it was making much difference in him. For the children, maybe, but not the adults. He was, however, absolutely certain that long runs at this time of morning were not going to do him much good. He stopped running long enough to catch his breath, and stared up at the starry night; there was just a hint of dawn color to the east. With the skill of long practice, he located the planet te yell he dreaded. Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, the "Maverick" instructor of the Earth flight academy and one of the few survivors of the battleship Enterprise, had tracked him down, and was calling him back to work. For a supposedly voluntary program, there were an awful lot of orders to be followed. Taking a last deep breath, Starbuck put his legs back to work racing along the California sand. The dark-haired, muscular Terran had no problem with the pace he'd set, nor, from appearances, did the other three native-born humans. Only the panting Starbuck and wheezing Jolly were having prob-lems. "Starbuck..." Jolly asked between gasps, "where did you...pick up...that name...anyway? They all...call you...Wings..." "Not sure," he was able to force out. "Something about...earning it from...the general's daughter...and battlefield promotion..." Jolly found breath enough for a hearty laugh before their leader summoned them on again. * * * It was a bright clear morning in the