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 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.  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 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
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
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 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 -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
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.

* * *

	"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 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'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 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
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, if 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 get 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
craft, 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 half-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?"

	"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 likely 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 refrigerator.  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 back 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 human 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't 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 understand 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 claimed.  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 ship'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, near 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.  But
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 strode 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
refreshments 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 finally 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 indulgent 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 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
blonde-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 the 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 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
Athena 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 considered 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 as 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 in 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
experienced 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 she 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 in 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?

	<Time, time...>  He prayed for more time, but knew it 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..."

	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 blows 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 trainers.  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 to 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.

	Lydia 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 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 balancing 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 another 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 could 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 blood 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 nodded 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 been 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.  "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 interrupt 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 and 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 seriously 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 doors 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 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 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 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 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 the
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 says 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 MacTaggert. 
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 the 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 the 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 mountains, with the dawnlight
gleaming brightly on the thin layer of snow that had fallen in the night.
 Cassiopeia yawned over her cup.  Jamaican coffee, it was called.  She
liked it.  Plenty of caffeine to stimulate the system.  After the little
sleep she'd had the night before, Cassie felt entitled.

	After a while, a sound droned into her consciousness from outside.  She
glanced out the window but couldn't see anything.  As the sound became
louder, she identified it as some kind of air craft, and felt a moment's
concern.  Who would be coming here?  No one knew they were at the cabin. 
Searching the morning sky a few moments more, shading her eyes against
the brilliant sun, revealed nothing.  She realized it must be coming from
the other side of the cabin, and quickly ran into the great room.

	Julie was awake and joined her almost at once, padding downstairs in her
matching robe, nightgown, and fuzzy blue slippers.  Joining her at the
eastern window, she stared out for a second, then turned to Cassioepeia
with a smile, saying, "It's friends.  That's -Airwolf-.  Must be Dominic
Santini or Stringfellow Hawke, maybe both.  With Caitlin at Miramar,
they're the only other pilots for her.  But I wonder why they didn't just
use the radio if there's something...?"

	"Unless they have a reason to be coming in silent," Cassie hazarded. 
"Maybe something's happened..."

	"We won't know 'til they get here.  I'll get some clothes on..."  She
dashed up the stairs, leaving the Colonial to wait alone with increasing
nervousness.

	The sounds grew louder then went suddenly silent.  A thud at the door
shortly thereafter told her that someone had arrived.

	She opened the door.  Stringfellow Hawke stood there, still as
wooden-faced as when he'd flown them to their distant hideaway.  He
stepped in with a curt nod, dropping a small suitcase to the floor and
stamping snow off his boots.

	Behind him, a second person walked in.  The young girl, certainly not
yet twenty years old, had short dark hair and eyes that were far too aged
for her features.  She wore blue jeans and heavy winter boots, and had
her hands jammed into the pockets of her fleece-lined jacket.

	Footsteps sounded on the stairs.  "Robin!"  Cassie glanced back at
Julie's startled call, then was pushed aside as the other woman ran
forward.  The newcomer stretched out her arms for the embrace.

	"It's good to see you again, Julie.  How are you?"

	"Fine, fine.  But how are you?  Why are you here?  Oh, silly question,
it's your cabin now that your father's gone."

	Robin's smile was strained.  "I understand...Athena is here, the...her
baby will be the second Starchild.  Since I'm the only one who's been
through that before, I thought I should come."

	Cassiopeia started in surprise.  This...*child* was Elizabeth's mother? 
Sure, she'd known intellectually that the Visitors hadn't been here long
enough for a normal growth through childhood for Elizabeth, but... 
Astonishment was followed by anger.  Why had Robin waited so long to
come, when Athena was going through hades alone, and could have used the
support from someone who'd been through what she was surviving?

	She caught a look of revulsion on Robin's face, and turned to see that
Athena and Douglas had come down the steps in the last few seconds.  Then
she understood; Robin hadn't been eager to relive what had happened to
her.  It could only be painful for her too.  She'd been a child, still
wasn't much more than that...

	A touch on her arm reminded her there was another person present.

	"Got anything hot in the kitchen?  I think they could use some time." 
Hawke pulled her out of the room without waiting for a response.  Douglas
joined them in the kitchen only a moment later, looking rebuffed.

	"It is time for my antidote.  Julie instructed me to inform you of
that," Douglas said quietly.

	"Certainly.  Stay here."  Cassie went to the small safe in the pantry
while Stringfellow kept an eye the Visitor.  Opening the safe with its
dual combination, she removed one antidote capsule from the bottle and
closed the safe again.  Back in the kitchen, she handed the capsule of
life to the alien.  He gulped it down without a word.  Meanwhile, Hawke
had poured himself a cup of coffee and refilled hers.  Douglas had a
glass of water; coffee turned his stomach.

	They waited.

* * *

	Julie Parrish, Robin Maxwell, and Athena moved into the main level
bedroom, which had once been Robert and Kathleen's bedroom.  Robin
glanced around her parents' room with wounded eyes, remembering, and
huddled deeper in her coat.  The room remained unoccupied, at her
request.  The ones who lived here now slept in the girls' rooms upstairs.
 But the thick star-patterned quilt that her grandmother had made still
covered the bed, with its solid wooden bedstead.  The old-fashioned
braided rug covered most of the exposed floor.  There had been no fire in
this room's fireplace for almost two years, but a few neatly stacked logs
were still in the bin as if waiting for the evening's fire.  A few
pictures of the family hung on the log walls, from summer and winter
vacations of years ago.

	"So how've you been, Robin?" Julie began, sitting on the bed and drawing
the other women to sit on either side of her.

	"I've been...fine..." Robin answered haltingly.  "Visiting friends. 
Traveling a little.  Spent some time with my sisters and Aunt Colleen in
Santa Barbara."  She glanced across Julie at Athena again, who seemed to
have retreated inward, then quickly looked away again.  The green band
around her throat was too frightening, and brought too many other
memories that she'd never completely dealt with.

	"I...guess I expected you here before this, but I realize it...can't be
the most comfortable place for you...for a number of reasons," Julie
said, seeing the way Robin's expressions betrayed her thoughts.

	Robin nodded.  "It was wrong to put it off this long.  I should've been
here sooner.  It...looks like it won't be long..."  Her voice died
awkwardly.

	Julie frowned.  "That's what Douglas says.  I tend to agree with him. 
Cassie and I were planning to be airlifted back next week.  That should
give us a two week safety margin, if our calculations on the baby's
gestation are correct."

	"After my delivery, I can understand not wanting to take any chances. 
After all, the cabin doesn't come with a delivery room, and the nearest
town is thirty-five miles away, impossible if you get caught in a winter
blizzard...  Doesn't she ever *say* anything?" Robin interrupted herself
with some annoyance.  Since she'd walked in, the Colonial hadn't said a
word, hadn't seemed to really notice her presence.  All things
considered, she'd expected Athena to be full of questions and showing a
great deal more emotion.

	"Not much, these days," Julie admitted, taking Athena's hand.  "Douglas
says it's not really the way Visitor women do it, but that it's normal
for the mother to be somewhat lethargic and introspective, because her
energy is going into the final development of the baby and its shell. 
While there won't be a shell in this case, maybe that means the baby is
taking more out of her than it would a Visitor mother."

	"Douglas is...the father?" Robin asked hesitantly.

	"Yes."

	Robin slid off the bed and moved to the window.  She took a moment to
remove her coat, then dropped it on a chair, still staring out the
window.  "I keep remembering Brian," she said simply.

	"How do you remember him?" Julie asked softly.

	The young woman shuddered.  "I remember how I felt about him when the
Visitors first came, and what he did to me on the Mothership, and how I
felt about him then, and how I felt when I truly realized what he was and
kind of...monsters he'd put into me, on *her* orders, and how I killed
him when he was our prisoner.  And to this day I cannot feel guilty about
what I did."  She turned to face Julie, her arms crossed protectively
across her chest.  "Is that wrong of me?  I sometimes dream of Father
Andrew, like during the darkest days of the Resistance, and I hear him
telling me that killing is wrong, even killing them, and that I should
confess my sin to God and be forgiven.  But it's been hard for me to
believe in anything since the invasion began.  And I don't feel sorry, so
it wouldn't be honest anyway."  She waved off the topic, which was just
as well, as Julie had no idea what to say to that confession.

	"And then I come here, and she's got *him* here.  Why?  I know Elizabeth
gave him to her, that it's the Visitor way, and that's why they don't
care that I killed Brian, but I don't understand how she can bear to have
him here and not want to kill him or wither away."

	Julie glanced at Athena before rising to join Robin at the window. 
Athena seemed to be concentrating on something, but made no move to join
the conversation.

	"I don't know why she keeps him.  I know he's behaved himself, and never
said or done anything threatening to any of us.  We don't know the
reasons -- even Cassiopeia, and she's known Athena and worked on the same
ship with her for a long time.  And Douglas seems to...well, he almost
seems to...  If I didn't know better, I'd say he loves her.  He's devoted
to her.  He's always taking care of her."

	"I don't want him here while I am."

	"Robin..."

	"If he's here, I'm not staying."

	Julie had to think about that one.  It would be easy enough to send
Douglas away, to have Hawke take him back to Los Angeles for
incarceration for the time being.  Then Robin and Athena could get to
know each other, and Robin could help Athena prepare.  But on the other
hand, she had a strong suspicion that Athena would protest any attempt to
send Douglas away.

	As if in response, they heard a sound from the bed, like a groan.  Both
glanced at Athena to see her curling up on the bed, clutching her swollen
abdomen.

	"What is it, Athena?  Are you feeling all right?"  Julie came closer,
and saw the pool of green that was spreading on the quilt.  "Athena? 
Dear God!  Robin, call Cassie and Douglas!"

	"What?  No, not in here, he's not coming into my parents' room--"

	"There's no time for that, Robin!  Get them!  She's in labor...my god,
it's too early, she'll never survive, I don't have anything ready, this
shouldn't be happening..."


			Chapter Three:  Arrival


	Elizabeth rested on the smooth sandstone of her bed, only a pillow under
her head as concession to her human softness.  The large, round, colorful
stone rested on a dais near one end of a huge chamber in the Leader's
Mothership.  The broad royal bedroom was warm, warmer than a human should
feel comfortable with, but the part of her mind that noticed the
temperature impatiently dismissed it as inconsequential.  Scattered
through the chamber were numerous small amenities to please the taste of
a reptilian leader of the reptilian Sirian species -- ferns and assorted
herbs and shrubs from Homeworld, cunningly potted to appear to grow out
of the floor; walls colored and shaped to resemble the wild beauty of the
Stazirettz Canyon, the former Leader's private estate; a small dirt-toned
pool richly silted with mineral salts and oils for bathing.

	It should have been alien to Elizabeth, and in some ways it was.  But
she had traveled to Sirius in these chambers, and now returned to Earth
in them.  More importantly, there was something in her that *answered*
the room somehow, that was quite at home here.  The voices inside her
skull knew the place and liked it.

	She let her thoughts wander through the stars and the ages.

		* * *

	The violet sky above was streaked with clouds so dark they were almost
black.  Rocks of myriad hues were scarred and smoking from laser burns. 
The scattered gray and dark green vegetation was mottled with something
moist and deeper in color, the blood of the heroes who had fought and
held against the enemy.  Here and there on the field of battle were the
fallen remains of skyfighters, voiceless testimony to the fury of three
days of internecine combat.  In the distance raised the smoldering spires
of the city so many had died to protect or to destroy.  Most of it
remained intact, for the defenders had withstood their opponents.

	A figure walked slowly among the vegetation, examining the scene of
battle.  He was a young Sirian, tall and well-muscled, green-scaled with
the color of seastone and full-crested with the rich purple hues of
Vressian crystal.  He was handsome and virile and proud, a scion of the
first family of the city, more clearly foresighted than any of the Elders
of War or of Pretanama.  He was the ideal of a Sirian male.  His name was
Raman; he was a leader of warriors.  But now he walked alone, to a
destiny that would reverberate through the ages.  He had always known
what his life meant; he knew equally what his death would mean.  Strength
of will and the need of his people carried him forward.  The enemy must
be driven back, the People must live, even at such a cost.

	His mind wandered infinity as his body moved.  Something caught his
attention.  Raman paused to glance at the figure which had appeared
beside him.  A strange image, the pale, scaleless thing with limp yellow
threads where her crest should soar.  But her star-blue eyes held the
power of the millennia, and he nodded permission for her to travel with
him... 

		* * *

	Her eyes opened to stare at the mud-colored ceiling above.  The image
was clear, of the young warrior Raman walking to his fate.  Elizabeth's
thoughts were barely perceptible in the swirl of the past.  The Priests
of Investiture, who existed solely for the moments of testing and
crowning, had warned her of what was to come.  So had Philip, in his
less-knowledgeable way.

	"So much to learn..." she breathed, then her eyes closed.

		* * *

	"And you too must make the sacrifice," echoed across the ages.

		* * *

	"Or I may not command the People," she repeated in the deathly hiss that
was the warrior tongue of a nation all but extinct millennia before. 
"The nation may die, but the People must live.  I must command the
People.  For that I must live, even though I have died."

	And the visions began, and she walked with Raman himself into the truth
of the People.

		* * *

	"Lieutenant Boomer, good to see you again.  Lincoln, welcome aboard the
-Galactica-," Adama said somewhat formally as he greeted the pair in his
quarters.  He gestured toward the couch.  "Please, be seated."

	"Thank you, sir," Boomer replied, following his commander's
offer/command.

	"Thank you," Mirella echoed.  "And please, call me Mirella."

	"With pleasure," the elderly veteran replied with a gracious smile.  "I
had forgotten that your name order and usage are not the same as ours. 
May I offer you a beverage?"

	"Yes, thank you," Mirella said smoothly.  "Boomer's told me that it's
customary for your people to be known only by a given name, with your
family names and tribal affilitations reserved for special occasions and
for tracking family geneologies and heritages."

	"Yes, that's correct.  I'm honored that you've taken the time to learn
about us.  I expect few Terrans are familiar with our name usage."

	"One of my doctorates is in anthropology.  I suppose this sounds a
little ethnocentric, but the differences between our cultures are
fascinating.  The theoreticians on Earth are having a field day
explaining the evolutionary differences and similarities in our human
variety."

	Boomer watched his commander with some concern as the man passed out
chalices and poured ambrosa.  Adama hadn't exactly been hospitable or
voluble lately.  And while the lieutenant hadn't really been aboard the
battlestar with any frequency over the past sectars, he'd heard
scuttlebutt about the commander's deliberate distance from everyone, even
his formerly closest associates and friends.  And while he was close to
the family, for a lieutenant to be too familiar with his commander was
not wise policy, especially when that commander was known to be behaving
volatilely.  Boomer decided to keep his mouth shut until he had a better
idea what was going on.

	"So," Adama began when everyone had a drink and was as comfortably
settled as they were likely to be, "may I assume from your presence here
together that the rumors are true, and that you have left Earth to be
with our lieutenant?"  His eyes were warm and welcoming as they moved
from one to the other of the young people.

	Mirella nodded, glancing at Boomer.  He reached for her hand.  She
almost sounded sad as she said, "I've made the break from my job and my
associates.  Considering what I was doing...I don't think I can go back
to Earth again."

	Adama seemed to have expected this.  He merely nodded.  "I hope the
compensations are worth what you're sacrificing," he said simply.  He
took a sip of ambrosa.  After a moment's silence, he spoke more briskly. 
"Well, Boomer, what is the status of the lunar construction bases?  From
last report, there were still some difficulties to be worked out with the
material extraction equipment.  Wilker and Tigh have been sending
requests for additional information on when they expect Tranquility Base
to be operational."

	This was more familiar ground, and Boomer relaxed.  "Well, sir,
actually, we seem to have the last of those bugs worked out!  The report
is probably still caught in the bureaucratic pipeline, but we're
finalizing the initial scheduling.  In fact, Shadrack may very well have
that ready for you within the day."

	"Excellent."  Adama leaned back, and Boomer thought he looked relieved.

	"Things are still cramped on Luna, sir, while they're setting up
residential domes, but I was hoping there would be room for Mirella there
with me -- I'd be more than happy to serve as bond for her, and to help
her learn to live in our society," the lieutenant hazarded.  "She has a
range of training that would be invaluable, and I'm sure there would be
appropriate duties she could fulfill while completing any additional
training she might need..."

	"That would preserve our security while allowing you to be together?" 
Adama closed his eyes.

	Taken aback, Boomer hesitated.  He'd known security could be an issue,
so had Mirella.  He hadn't expected the commander to throw it in their
faces.

	After a very awkward moment, the commander smiled and opened his eyes. 
"Mirella, you have advanced degrees in branches of physics and
engineering as well as human studies, I believe?

	"Yes," she replied.

	"Then I can think of no better place for you now than the new Ceres
base."

	Boomer started.  The woman's eyes widened to warm earthy pools of
sunlight.  "As in...Ceres the asteroid?  In the asteroid ring between
Mars and Jupiter?"

	"Yes."

	She set down her chalice.  "What would my duties be?"

	"You would accept the assignment?" Adama demanded, ignoring her question
for the moment.

	"Commander," she said, "the farthest any of my people had been before
the Visitors arrived was the moon -- and I didn't expect to have the
chance to go there for another decade, at least, before the Visitors
came.  Those taken by them were in no position to appreciate the wonders
they could have seen beyond our solar zone.  I've had the opportunity to
join the space program, but always felt I was better used where I was. 
Now, everything's changed.  Even without Boomer in the equation.  Believe
me, I would be thrilled to work on Ceres, to do something for the benefit
of both our peoples."

	Adama seemed satisfied, for a smile quirked across his face before he
hid it behind the chalice and took another sip.

	"But..." Boomer spoke up finally.  "But..."

	"And you, Lieutenant," the commander continued smoothly, "as you seem to
have successfully completed your Luna assignment and assisted in getting
that base into functional order, could be well used by Colonel Flint on
Ceres.  His progress has been hindered by...bugs."

		* * *

	Diana glanced over the report.  She knew its contents -- she had written
them -- but she always reviewed her reports one last time, and kept a
copy of them, to ensure that nothing was being added before the
information was passed along to other scientists and her parole officer.

	She was certainly doing the work her "parole" demanded of her.  The
scientist, whose ambitions had led her to take command of the Earth
invasion fleet, was still as brilliant as ever, which had saved her life.
 Therefore, she was condemned to remain aboard the Toronto Mothership,
her intellect and talents being put to use for scientific experiments and
technical advancement...

	Which would be provided *gratis* to the human meat.

	Unless she managed to escape before then, and put her own plans into
action.

	There were things that no one on this ship knew yet, not even James and
Juliet -- the traitorous scavengers.  But she had her partisans, on the
planet below, who still worked on her behalf and carried out other
projects and plans she had begun before the end.  And from what
information they'd been able to get to her, another plan was about to
come to fruition.

	Which meant it was time to leave.  She smiled briefly, and sealed the
report.

		* * *

	"I'm beginning to hate this ship!" came the petulant voice from inside
the Viper cockpit.

	"Find the problem and correct it," Captain Apollo repeated patiently,
"and you can open your cockpit and get out.  As we've discussed before,
you have to know your ship like your own hand, what could go wrong, how
to tell, how to fix it--"

	"If you give me that mawkish speech again, Captain," Caitlin
O'Shaughnessy yelled back, "I will find a way to crosswire something to
lock you in your Viper so you have to crawl out backwards through the
engine conduits!"

	The other cadets smothered grins and chortles at the image that brought
to mind.  Apollo hid a smile -- which suddenly became painful as he
remembered another woman taunting him in a similar fashion in another
training class.  The memory was bitter, however; since being a captive of
the Visitors, and believing an alien to be his wife, he'd been unable to
think of Serina without feeling something cold and hard run through his
veins.  In fact, he'd been unable to think of *any* woman without
something icy skewering his heart.

	He'd even been unable to resume parenting Serina's son.  Adama had cared
for Boxey part of the time that Apollo had been a prisoner.  But most of
the time, the boy had stayed with Cassiopeia or Jolly.  For the better
part of the last seven months, since the escape from Diana, it had been
Jolly and his new wife, Vellamo, who provided Boxey a home.  Apollo was
always welcome in their quarters, and visited regularly, but the thought
of bringing Boxey back to his own quarters and becoming a father again,
to Serina's son, made him shake and break out in a cold sweat.  Sometimes
even looking at Boxey was too hard.

	At first Boxey had asked, often, when he would be going home with his
father.  Apollo always found excuses, which, to his surprise, the
commander didn't question either.  Boxey didn't ask much anymore.  And
with Vellamo expecting, the boy was excited about the new arrival. 
Apollo expected that by the time the baby arrived, Boxey would call it
brother or sister without missing a beat.  And he would probably start
calling Jolly "father" and Vellamo "mother" soon after that -- and Siress
Bellaby would probably be "grandmother," since she was Vellamo's aunt and
had introduced the couple to each other after the mission to Serenity.

	He knew he would never have to question Jolly's love and care for Boxey
-- how many times had Jolly been the one who stepped in to take care of
his son?

	It should bother him, that he was essentially giving up his son, walking
away from him -- but it didn't.  Boxey was happy.  He had a full family,
two parents, a sibling on the way.  If Apollo felt anything, it was
relief.  That was his real guilt.  That feeling, and the realization that
his father didn't seem to mind it either.  He shouldn't feel this way,
nor Adama--

	"I'll get this thing," Apollo heard Caitlin mutter over the headset. 
"If I can deal with the Lady, I can certainly manage this two-bit
contraption..."

	"Captain Apollo!" bellowed a voice over the main ship's speakers. 
"Captain, report to launch bay Alpha immediately."

	Apollo jumped.  He was already in Alpha bay, having brought his cadets
here for some hands-on training where the Viper technicians could show
them anything they needed.  There were no klaxons, so it wasn't an alert;
what was the problem?

	"Vickers, take over the session."  He touched his headset, changing the
frequency.  "Captain Apollo here.  I'm in Alpha bay now.  Where shall I
report?"

	"Report to Dr. Salik at the shuttle launch area."

	"Right away, Omega.  What's up?" he ventured, stepping away from his
class as Sergeant Vickers stepped forward.

	"Dr. Salik will brief you at the shuttle."

	"Right."  Apollo sighed and hurried his steps.  He was halfway to the
shuttle when he heard footsteps running behind him.  O'Shaughnessy joined
him, slowing to match his step.

	"I got out of that cockpit."

	"Good.  Why'd you leave the class?"

	"One of the technicians said something about -Airwolf-.  If there's
trouble with my friends, I'm gonna be there."

	He didn't bother to tell her no.  It would have done no good anyway.  In
another centon, he was nearing shuttle Gamma.

	"Dr. Salik!" he called as soon as the heavy-set medic came into view,
waving him into the shuttle.  Apollo swung aboard and operated the seal
control in a few quick motions.  Caitlin squeezed in behind him, all but
unnoticed.  "What's up, doctor?  What's wrong?  I assume we're
launching?"

	"It's Athena.  She's in labor.  We've received word from -Airwolf-. 
Hawke reports that Dr. Parrish believes it's early, there are problems,
and they're stranded in the middle of the forest somewhere in northern
California.  Your co-pilot's aboard, we can launch as soon as the bridge
gives clearance.  Caitlin," he acknowledged the woman.

	"Is Commander Adama aware of the situation?" Apollo demanded, dread
rising for his sister.

	"Already aboard, Captain," he heard, and glanced to see his father
already strapped into one of the seats behind a stack of medical
equipment.  The three med techs beside him looked tense; Adama's features
were closed, focused completely inward, on something else -- but he
looked ready to shatter.

	No time to consider what the expression meant.  His family needed him.

	Apollo raced to the pilots' area.  "Do we have coordinates?" he asked
tensely, strapping himself in.  Sergeant Cree was already in the co-pilot
chair, scanning sensors and watching the engine energy levels.

	"We'll have to home in on the -Airwolf-," the young pilot said
efficiently.  "We've got the approximate area, weather telemetry shows
some storm fronts in the area, but hopefully nothing--"

	"Let me take her in," Caitlin interrupted, leaning over his shoulder. 
"They're at the Maxwell cabin, I know where that is.  I know the terrain,
I know the weather."

	Captain Apollo glanced up at her, decided quickly.  He had no doubts
about her ability to carry through on her claim, and he was too worried
to argue.  "Good.  Cree, take us out when we've got clearance.  Caitlin,
you'll take the helm when we enter atmosphere."

	"Shuttle Gamma, you are cleared for take-off.  Launch when ready," came
the familiar feminine voice of Rigel in their headsets.

	"Let's go."

		* * *

	Hisseye and Koeriy sat together on the rock ledge at the screen as the
Leader's Mothership passed on its swift way through the planets,
asteroids, and comets of system Sol.  Between each sparkling bright body
was the darkness of space, an existence the Visitor former troopers were
quite familiar with.  Only the Leader's Mothership had this kind of
viewing area, secluded and soothing, designed to simulate a sun-warmed
gulch on Homeworld.

	He took his mate's clawed hand in his, sighing.  "We have to return to
humanskin soon."

	She hissed a small regret, rubbing her beautifully crested head against
his throat.  Light shades of green and purple rippled up and down her
crest as it lifted and drooped with her movements.  He nipped at her in a
Sirian expression of playful lechery.  It had been good to be themselves,
among their own people.  Of course, as the advisors and beloved friends
of the new Leader they were now accorded a great deal more respect and
attention than either had previously experienced on their own world.

	After a few moments, the pair was joined by three other Sirians.  Two of
the newcomers dropped into positions of subordinance, but the third
approached Hisseye and Koeriy with a gesture expressing a request to
speak with them.  They acknowledged and acquiesced.

	The noblewoman swirled her silver-and-purple wrap aside and sprawled on
the ledge beside them, basking in the warmth of the red light that warmed
the chamber without interfering with their exterior vision.  "You are
with the Leader, and you have been to this mammal world before?"

	"Yes, Lady Sirisi," Koeriy admitted.  It was well enough known, even to
this noble passenger.  They had seen her several times during the trip,
though they'd never spoken to her.  She hadn't previously acknowledged
them, and they were of insufficient rank to approach one of her stature
without express invitation or dire need.

	"As you have been to that world before, I have a favor I must ask of
you.  I will soon be wearing the humanskin, to meet my son and spend a
quarter season with him.  It is ordered that when our people are on that
world, we must use forms and names similar to theirs.  Tell me, what
names might I use?"  Her claws worked against the stone, and Koeriy
suspected she was less than thrilled with the restriction the Leader had
imposed.

	"It depends on what portion of Earth you will be visiting," he began
carefully.  "When I was first assigned there, to serve in the Mecca
Mothership, I was to be Ahmed.  But when I was reassigned to the Los
Angeles Mothership, I became Willie.  It was difficult to change
identities and languages at so short a notice.  But the name you choose
will depend on where you will be."

	"My son was also attached to the Los Angeles Mothership," Sirisi hissed
deep in her throat, a thawing sound that suggested she might be less
reluctant to continue the conversation.  "Do you know him?  He does not
use his royal connections, so he may not have mentioned me, but his name
is Shrikar.  Do you know him?"

	He thought for a moment, and glanced at Hisseye, then shook his head. 
"There were thousands of us aboard each Mothership, and I was not
assigned to the Los Angeles Mothership until we had already reached
Earth, so I had little time to know my fellow troopers -- or the
officers," he added when the lady's teeth bared as if to rake him for the
impertinence of suggesting a noblewoman's hatchling would be a mere
trooper in an invasion force.  "And those I did know, were under their
human names.  Do you know what he was called on Earth?"

	She relaxed.  "I received one transmission from him after he took
humanform.  I must confess to having been so offended at his appearance
that he did not send images or use his Earthname again.  But I believe he
said he was called Douglas."

	Hisseye hissed slightly, her claws kneading into Koeriy's until they
drew blood.  He managed to keep his composure.  "I don't recall meeting
him," he said carefully.

	Sirisi's eyes narrowed as they rested on Hisseye.  "And you?"

	"He was an officer; I saw him many times, but never spoke with him."

	The noblewoman stared at her for a long moment, slitted eyes narrowed in
demanding query until Hisseye's gaze turned back to the exterior screen. 
Then Sirisi turned her eyes back to Koeriy.

	"But you have been in that part of the world, enough to know what names
a noblewoman of Sirius might carry without too much humiliation?" she
asked, letting go the matter of her son, since both of them disavowed
knowledge and seemed disinclined to speak of him.

	"The people of that part of Earth claim all sentient beings are equal in
rank to others, but they have kings and lords in their past, and there
are many names a noblewoman might carry, and be recognized as such in Los
Angeles," Koeriy stated.

	Her crest cocked inquiringly.

	"The humans do not have names reserved solely for their leaders, but
among the names used by their ruling women, there is Elizabeth.  That is
also the Leader's name, so it would not be wise to assume that while on
Earth," he began.

	"You would not want the name Diana for similar reasons, as it is still
being used by one who has badly wronged both Terran and Sirian, and whom
the Terrans hate and would kill," Hisseye added.  "But there is Sarah,
and Michaela, and Alexandra, and Margaret, and Mary, which are names used
in the ruling house of what is called Britain, which ruled parts of their
continent and gave it its primary language.  Anne was also a queen's name
of that people, and Catherine..."

	"And Juana and Isabella and Sofia were queens of Spain, which also ruled
part of the continent for a time," Koeriy continued.  "That language is
commonly used in Los Angeles too."

	Sirisi considered.  "I do not really like any of them.  And I have
undergone the sleep education in both English and Spanish, so I am
familiar with each.  I suppose I shall have to settle for one of those
names..."

	Koeriy and Hisseye didn't enlighten her that, as mere troopers, they
hadn't had the luxury of choosing their Earth name; it had been assigned
to them the same as their bunk, their uniform, and their food chamber.

	She nodded curtly at them.  "I thank you for your time, and I will not
detain you any further.  If I do not see you before disembarkation, it
has been a pleasure journeying with you."  She swept the wrap in a broad,
arrogant arch, and sauntered out of the watchroom.  The two sycophants
scuttled along after her, leaving Hisseye and Koeriy alone again.

	They sighed in unison.

	"There are times," Koeriy said wearily, "when I realize I shall be very
happy to return to my friends on Earth."

		* * *

	Athena threw her head back with another groan, leaning against Douglas. 
This time, though, her body didn't tense as though fighting what was
happening to her.  If only there had been time to get her to a hospital
-- *any* hospital, even the "local" community hospital, which would have
at least had surgical instruments and a sterile environment.  But there
hadn't been time, not as fast as this was happening, not the way Athena
had fought when String tried to carry her to -Airwolf-.  She'd refused to
leave, and Douglas had backed her up.  And then there was the snow,
coming down in thick, delicate flakes, whirling against the windows with
a slow, almost hissing sound, eerie, alien...

	Athena moaned again, her head thrashing from side to side in a futile
attempt to escape pains over which she had no control.  But this time,
the child was delivered, covered in green, sticky slime, long tendrils of
oozing green that almost seemed to writhe with the mother's contractions.
 Julie grimaced again and snatched at the baby as it slid free, picking
it up, amazed as she had been at Elizabeth's birth, that an alien could
sire so human-appearing a child.  But with Robin, there had been a second
child, a poor, doomed, blue-eyed male child too alien to survive...

	But there was no single, dark red, throbbing umbilical cord as a wholly
human child would have had; all the green strands had been what sustained
and nourished this baby.  Julie wiped away the worst of it from the
little girl's face, then handed the baby off to someone -- Robin, she
noted absently, who'd stood by, watching intently, through the whole
time.  Stringfellow Hawke had left the bedroom.

	There were still a mixture of green and red in a spreading pool beneath
Athena.

	"Dear Lords, she's bleeding, she shouldn't be..." Cassiopeia muttered in
near panic.  "Julie, what...?"

	Parrish brushed her hair aside with the back of her hand, her eyes wide,
fighting through memories for some fragment of knowledge about childbirth
or the Sirians to let her know if this could in any way be "normal" -- it
obviously wasn't normal for Colonial.  There shouldn't be this much blood
-- internal damage when the "threads" tore lose in the rough, painful
delivery?  God, she should have found some way to do a c-section...  She
didn't know, she just didn't know...  She reached up and palpated
Athena's swollen, still-pulsing abdomen, wondering if there was another
child to be born.

	Nothing.

	But Athena still bled.

	And began to whimper softly.  Douglas leaned over her, clasping both her
hands in his, hissing something in his own tongue.  He began to move back
and forth, rocking her body with his.

	"Here."  She hadn't noticed he had left, but now Stringfellow held out a
cup that smelled strongly of some herb mixture.  "Old Indian mix.  Good
for clotting, blood production, and promotes healing."

	"At this rate she'll bleed to death before it can do any good!"
Cassiopeia exclaimed.  

	"We've got to try!" Robin exclaimed shrilly.  She held the baby almost
gingerly; it still hadn't made a sound.  Julie could hear the edge of
panic in the young woman's voice.

	"Try to get her to drink it," was all Julie could say.  She didn't have
the equipment to do anything for Athena here.

	With Douglas holding the cup, Athena took a few sips.  Then she glanced
at Cassiopeia.  "Name her Ileen, little Ila..."  Her eyes closed and she
drew a long, deep breath before subsiding against Douglas.

	"Ileen," the male repeated in a low hiss.

	"Ileen," Cassiopeia repeated, kneeling beside the bed and taking her
one-time rival's hand.   Now they were only friends, one woman caring for
another.  There was blood everywhere, green and red, on the bed, on their
clothes, staining her hands and face where a spatter had landed.  "I'll
tell them.  Athena?"

	Somewhere in the cabin, something thudded against a door.

	"Hawke--" Julie began.

	Before he could reach the door, the cabin itself seemed to shake as the
door was kicked off its hinges.  A moment later, there seemed to be a
dozen people clustered in the doorway.

	"Athena..."  The elderly man, dressed in blue, strode forward and pulled
the woman from Douglas' arms into his own.  "My child..."

	"Athena's alive, Commander," Cassiopeia told him.  She glanced at Robin,
who had stepped back against the window and was now clutching the child
tightly.  "And you have a granddaughter.  Her name is Ileen and she's
beautiful..."

	Dr. Salik took charge of the room and his two patients, new mother and
daughter; Julie let him.  She was too exhausted from the last few days,
mentally and physically, to protest.  It was a relief to pass along
responsibility to someone else.  She felt a little guilty about
abandoning her post, but when Robin put her empty arms around her like a
child seeking her own mother, she knew she still had a patient who needed
attention; they left together.

	When the Colonial medic shooed everyone out of the bedroom except his
med team and the most advanced equipment of Colonial technology, Athena
stirred long enough to protest, feebly.  In spite of her wishes, Douglas
was forced to leave as well.  Only Commander Adama was allowed to remain
as they began the fight for the young mother's life.

	
		* * *

	The stars were clear and hard.  There were no twinkles out here, no soft
romantic shimmering.  Just stars across the spectrum from red to blue,
with a few assorted giants and dwarfs, all burning cold in the ebony
emptiness.  Nearer were the flashes of asteroids tumbling in their
orbits, hundreds of small bits of rock and sand, the shattered remnants,
perhaps, of an old planet torn apart in system-building, or the pieces of
a world that had never quite coalesced into existence.

	Boomer couldn't stop grinning as he shared the awe on Mirella's face. 
He could imagine nothing more wonderful than sharing her joy at these
first sights -- and he hoped to show her many more wonderful things, and
to make her as happy as she was making him.

	The shuttle halted for a moment, then darted forward in a poor and
lumbering imitation of a hummingbird as it moved into the asteroid belt.

	"There's Ceres," the Colonial said, pointing.  "That's our destination."

	"I could have guessed from the ships orbiting there," she responded, an
eager, excited smile lighting her beautiful face.  "And that must be a
Mothership, it matches the configuration...."

	Boomer followed her gesture.

	It was a Mothership.  The dark saucer was larger than any other ship
he'd ever seen, larger than any of the other Sirian ships he'd seen,
blotting out what seemed like a quarter of the stars as it swung above
the asteroid belt, sunward-bound.

	"This is where we'll be stationed for the next few months..." she
breathed.  "I remember looking up at the stars, so many times while I was
growing up.  I was resigned that I would never get here, not while I was
young enough to enjoy it, anyway, or to be part of opening up space."

	The asteroid loomed larger; they could see the cluster of unnaturally
rounded shapes on a naturally rough surface.  Most of the colony base
burrowed into the asteroid, and the raw materials from the rock leavings
were being used to supply the base and to build the outer structures. 
Most of those outer structures presented bare walls to the vacuum;
greater shielding, and less likelihood of cracks, leaks, or other
structural flaws.  It also made the base less visible from space.  If the
Cylons attacked, that could mean the difference between detection or
concealment, between total destruction or merely heavy damage.  The only
absolutely detectable man-made object among them was the observation
lounge, not quite visible yet.  The human base was becoming home to only
a few hundred Colonials, at first.  There was a lot to do to make it
habitable to larger numbers -- and there were, admittedly, not that many
among the Colonial survivors who wanted to remain in space, even on an
asteroid base, at the moment.  They wanted Earth, or Luna, or the
geo-formed Mars.  Ceres was too far away from the sun, living there was
too much like continuing to live on a ship.  The humans wanted to feel at
home again.  And for most of them, that still meant sunshine and fresh
air, a wide sky above them and solid ground and rock beneath them, most
of the time.

	There were, however, Terrans clamoring for the right to live there; it
would probably be two years before the base was completed and those Visas
were granted.

	There was the observation lounge; it was huge, as long as an Earth
football field, but not nearly that wide, with scattered seating units
and only dimly lit so the human occupants could look out and see their
surroundings.  On Earth, there had been arguments when the station was
first suggested and the plans laid out; would such an open area be
necessary for the humans who would colonize Ceres, to allow them to
escape the close confines of their settlement and stare out at a solar
system they couldn't walk in, unprotected?  Would it ease claustrophobia?
 Or would it show them only the darkness and the stars and their own
distant sun, and remind them how far away from home they really were, how
dependent on their machines and supplies?  Would it bring on other forms
of madness?

	The shuttle was already landing, in the bay halfway around the mountain
from the visible lounge.  Internal ship's gravity adjusted to match that
of the base, higher than the body's own, but less than Earth, or the
-Galactica-.

	Mirella was out of her seat in a second.  Boomer watched the emotions
and thoughts cross her face  as she tested her own footsteps.  Satisfied
that she could compensate for it, she turned to him with a smile, and
held out her hand.

	He took it, and they moved to disembark.

		* * *

	Brooding silence hung over the observation chamber of the Cylon
basestar.  The lone human aboard the ship stared out, his thoughts
obviously turned in, his expression so focused as to be labeled
obsession.

	One among those myriad stars was called Sol.  The planet Earth circled
that star.  And the -Galactica- and her crew circled that planet, along
with numerous ships of these Sirians, these old enemies of the Cylons
that Baltar hadn't even known about, that no human of the Colonies had
known about in all the yahrens of their millennia-long war.  Of course,
there had been no reason for the Cylons to inform their sworn enemies of
another battlefront.

	Baltar touched one of the controls on his chair.

	A few microns later, a door behind him swished open, and an IL-Series
Cylon entered.

	"By your command," the newcomer announced unctiously, pausing at what
passed for attention.

	"How long, Lucifer?"

	"We will be within striking distance of the outer planets of the Earth
system within eighteen centars," Lucifer informed him.  "The inner
planets, within twenty-two centars."

	"Good..."  Baltar sounded distant, his attention so focused it was as
though he intended his thoughts to be heard across all the stars. 
"Inform me as soon as we are within striking range of the system."

	"Will you be taking sleep period in the meantime?" the Cylon asked
solicitiously, as though it could be considerate of its limited organic
commander; Cylons did not need to sleep -- or eat or drink.  Lucifer
found it a weakness of their species, most of the time.  Other times, he
felt a deep curiosity as to how it would feel to sleep, to dream, to have
thoughts that were more than various re-combinations of old programming. 
He sometimes wondered if he'd ever really had an honestly original
thought in his entire existence -- and if he had, was it an erratic
variable in his programming that he could even consider such a thing?

	"How could I sleep at a time like this?" Baltar returned.

	"It is my understanding of your human physiological nature that you
require sleep in sufficient amounts on a regular basis to continue to
function at your optimum level.  You have not been obtaining sufficient
sleep, by my observation."

	"I don't give a damn for your observations.  Just follow your orders."

	"By your command."  Lucifer paused.  "Since you wish to know when we
will be in striking distance of this system, does that mean you intend to
order an attack on Earth?"

	Silence.

	"It would be useful for our pilots and mechanics to know if they will
need to be armed and ready to strike."

	"Get out."  Baltar sounded preternaturally calm; something about him
raised uneasiness in the mechanical aide.

	"By your command..."

	The Cylon glided out quickly, leaving Baltar to continue his haunted
contemplation.

	<Adama, I'm here, I'm here...>

		* * *

	Philip strode into Lydia's office.  "She's here.  She's back."

	Lydia stared for only a second.  "Elizabeth?"

	"Yes.  I've just received a communique from her Mothership; they're in
orbit around the moon at the moment; she'll be arriving by shuttle within
twenty minutes."

	"Twenty minutes!" Lydia responded in disbelief.  "Why wasn't I informed
earlier?  There are security procedures--"

	"She didn't want any fanfare.  She wants to arrive quietly, and speak
only with us."

	"Her Wardens."

	"Yes," Philip acknowledged simply.  "And then she'll be returning to her
ship before speaking publicly to all of our people in this system."

	"What about?"  Lydia fell into step beside him as they marched out.

	"She didn't say.  But she sounded so different -- she's been Invested,
Lydia.  The history and existence of our people reside within her now.  I
hope it worked..."

	"Hope...?"  Lydia froze for a moment, then had to increase her stride to
catch up again.  "But Philip, Investitute is the natural right of the
Leader, you told me.  Without it, we lose the past, and our Leader loses
the right and ability to guide us--"

	"I know," he all but whispered bleakly.  "And I told her that.  I hope
it wasn't a mistake..."

		* * *

	In the great room, the others waited.  After an eternity, Cassiopeia
appeared long enough to hand over the well-wrapped infant; Robin
intercepted the baby before Julie could take her, then held her
possessively.  Julie hovered beside her, uncertain if the young woman
should be left alone with the child, considering all that had happened.

	The little girl seemed to watch Robin with an intelligent wariness, as
though she knew this other woman wasn't her mother, but was willing to
accept her for now.

	"Elizabeth grew up so fast, and we knew she was different from the
beginning," Robin said, staring at the child equally intently, pehaps
speaking to Julie, perhaps to herself.  "She was really only my baby for
a few weeks, more another little sister than my daughter...  I could
barely stand to see her the first few days.  Then I was crazy, with Brian
there, and I showed her to him to see how he'd react, before I killed
him.  Then, she was half-grown, and Diana had her, and after that she
belonged to the world.  I was just a child myself, I never had a chance
to be a mother to her, I don't know if being grown would have made any
difference.  Oh, I hope Athena has a chance to know her daughter..."

	Julie watched Robin, seeing how she held the small child and crooned to
her, studying her thick dark hair and round newborn face.  Robin was
obviously comparing this baby to Elizabeth, and comparing the
circumstances.  She sighed.  Poor Robin!  Bearing the half-alien
Starchild had probably destroyed her ability to have any other children. 
No more children, ever.  The only children she would ever have, aliens --
one dead, the other beyond human comprehension -- before she was old
enough or wise enough to understand what it was to be a mother.

	It had likely done the same thing to Athena.

	The woman's brother approached them cautiously.

	"May I...see...her?" he asked hesitantly.

	Julie couldn't help remembering everything Apollo had been through. 
"Are you sure you want to?  Are you ready?" she asked.

	He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the small bundle.

	Robin unwillingly let him take the baby.

	Apollo took Ileen in his arms, holding her like a delicate statue.  He
couldn't stop looking at her.  She was so small, her little face an image
of Athena's.  Her rounded cheeks were lightly dimpled with the marks of
her cheekbones; her eyes were a strange blue-green, with light flickering
through them; her hair was dark, still damp.  A little bit of green
stained the side of her face.  Apollo dabbed at it; it was dried fluid
from the delivery, some form of umbilical blood...  He shuddered in spite
of himself.

	As though noticing, the baby opened her mouth.  Apollo expected a cry,
but all she did was stick out her tongue--

	A normal baby's tongue that sudden elongated and edged, turning into
something skinny and forked and thoroughly *wrong*, testing the very air.
 He gasped at the unexpected change in her expression, sure her eyes --
her little, round, too-intelligent eyes -- had just slitted against the
light.  He had to remind himself that this was his sister's child; he
could not regret her existence, he had to accept her as she was, Athena's
baby.  He reminded himself he would love her for that, even if his little
sister didn't make it--

	Another man came out of the bedroom.  Julie caught his eyes.

	"Salik has the bleeding under control; Athena will be all right," the
man stated emotionally.

	"Thank God..."

	"Yes..." he responded.  His attention focused on Apollo.  "May I hold my
granddaughter?"

	Shaken, Apollo quickly handed the girl to the commander.  Adama held her
with ease, experienced from his own three children, murmuring soothing
endearments under his breath.

	The little one focused directly on him.

	Adama stiffened, gaze traveling upward, his attention tightly focused as
if listening for something.

	In her grandfather's arms, Ileen finally began to cry.

	And a tear slid down Adama's face as well.


	Chapter Four:  The Unexpected


	Elizabeth had changed.

	Philip and Lydia could both see that, as soon as she entered the study. 
Her features were still the same -- a slim blonde beauty, warmth and
sweetness in her smiling, eager face -- but there was something even more
distant about her than there had been after the Investiture cocooning
that had marked her as the next Leader.  Her blue eyes seemed tinted with
violet, the blue of the sky when the sun was setting, painted with dusk
and the stars still only far-distant specters.

	"My Leader," Philip said respectfully.

	He remained where he stood.  To approach uninvited was tantamount to a
challenge.  Lydia remained equally motionless beside him, silent.

	Elizabeth held out her hands to them.  "My friends," she said
affectionately.

	"Welcome back, Elizabeth."  Philip finally smiled, taking her hand.

	"Philip..."  She drew him into an unexpectedly warm embrace.  "And
Lydia..."  She took the other woman's hand, holding it tightly for
several seconds.

	Lydia felt the entire room fade out of reality, and for a moment she
swayed dizzily on the edge of an abyss, suspended in nothingness, with
stars too far away to touch or reach, in more colors than her brain could
comprehend.  For a moment she clawed at the nothingness, trying to gain a
purchase before the fall she was certain would follow.

	"Lydia...?"

	Reality returned, and the Visitor found herself flat on the floor, with
Philip and Elizabeth leaning over her.  She jerked away from Elizabeth
with a hiss, staring.  Her fighting talons snicked out of their sheaths,
ripping the false-skin of her thumbs, and the venom pits in her mouth
swelled as they filled with  poisonous fluid that dripped from her
eyeteeth.  Her crest rose in fury, and she knew her hair had fluffed out
with it like some outraged feline of this world.

	"Lydia!"

	The Inspector General's sharp, implied command penetrated the
instinctive physical panic response.  Slowly, slowly, she relaxed,
letting the fear recede.  The first thing she became aware of, was that
her mouth throbbed around her venom pits, and she had a bitter taste in
her mouth from the drops of thin liquid that had escaped the channels
behind her canines.  She stared up at the Leader, saw dark emptiness in
her eyes, and shrank back against Philip, psychically beaten by
she-didn't-know-what.

	"Lydia, what is it?"

	"I..."  She couldn't stop staring.  "I...don't know..."  She forced her
gaze down, then threw her head back to expose her throat.

	Elizabeth took her hand; she could feel the human warmth through the
false skin.  "Lydia, you are my Warden; you have nothing to fear from me.
 Please, be at ease."

	"I...  As you wish, my Leader."  Lydia slowly pulled herself together. 
Her hands were ruined, she saw immediately.  She ran them through her
hair, smoothing it down.  She drew a deep breath, and swallowed the vile
mixture of saliva and venom in her mouth.

	"Lydia, you'd better get that fixed."

	"Yes, Philip..."  She forced herself to her feet, hiding her hands low
at her sides to avoid them being seen.  Nodding stiffly, she made her way
to the door.

	A moment later, Elizabeth and Philip were alone.

	Philip studied his Leader, the woman he had, in essence, created, with
his advice and encouragement, and then given to his people.  He could see
nothing about her to cause the kind of violent reaction Lydia had just
displayed.

	"What caused that?" he wondered aloud.

	Elizabeth Maxwell shrugged.  "She will be fine.  Tell me, Philip, how
things are going here, with the Visitors and the humans, and these
Colonials.  Does the peace stand?  Are they ready to face the Cylons with
us?  And tell me, how is Kyle?"

	The Inspector General could see the eagerness in that last question.  He
had to answer her honestly.

	"Actually, I haven't seen Kyle Bates in some time.  But I'm sure Donovan
will be able to tell us more."

	"So where is Mike Donovan?"  The affection was obvious in her voice.

	"Donovan is...wherever he wants to be, these days."

	She laughed a little, understanding.  "And Julie?  And Athena?"

	"In seclusion, waiting for the baby."

	"The baby is here."

	Philip blinked.  "What?  But I wasn't told--"

	"Just today."

	Unsure how to respond, he finally said diplomatically, "I'm sorry, I
hadn't been informed yet.  I would certainly have told you--"

	"No one else knows, except the family and those with them.  She was only
born a few hours ago."

	He sucked in a breath. <So who passed along that information?  How did
she know?> he wondered to himself.  Philip was suddenly struck by the
shades of blue in Elizabeth's face.  That same sense of power and
communion that had told him what she was to be...

	"She was confused by the changes of her birth, I could sense that.  But
she is here, and alive.  Julie is bringing her here even now.  I will see
them as soon as they arrive."

	"Yes, my Leader."  There didn't seem to be anything else he could say.

	Her expression became more immediate.  "But now, Philip, we must find
Kyle."

		* * *

	"I am going to blow up the Earth with my Eludium P-38 Space Modulator,"
the little Martian said, holding up his device to the rabbit's fascinated
gaze.  

	"Oh, really?" Bugs asked. 

	"Oh, yes, little Earth creature."

	"Even if I remove...this?"  The long-eared, anthropomorphized being
pulled a small pin from the Martian device.  Before he could say anything
more, Bugs was off and running, his legs just a circular blur of motion,
and the telescope/weapon sight was swinging wildly.  The green-kilted and
helmed Martian turned to face the viewers, for just a second, before the
screen went yellow in the cartoon equivalent of an explosion.

	Then the cartoon cut away to a large, furry-looking being, which claimed
to be looking for "George," to love him and cherish him and take care of
him...

	Johnny B. watched the cartoon, feeling anything but amused.  He finally
sighed and flicked off the VCR.  The Bugs Bunny/Marvin the Martian
cartoons had been a lot funnier before the Visitors came.  None of the
networks showed them anymore; he was lucky enough to have his own video
copies.

	They weren't doing much good today, though.  Kyle looked like a zombie,
slouched in his chair, staring straight ahead at nothing.  Johnny
wondered if he'd slept at all the last few nights.

	Gloria came into the room with a glass carafe of fresh coffee.  "More
caffeine?"

	"None for me," he waved it off.

	Kyle didn't seem to notice that Gloria was there either, and ignored the
cup she filled.  His head fell back and he stared at the ceiling.

	Johnny and Gloria exchanged glances, wondering if they should say
anything.

	Then Kyle listlessly announced, "She's looking for me."

	"Buddy, you've been saying she's looking for you the last four days."

	"She's back.  On Earth.  Looking for me.  Here."

	Gloria had set down the coffee.  She knelt at Kyle's feet.  "So what do
we have to do to keep you safe?"

	"We've got to leave here.  She knows I've been here.  She'll come here."

	"Won't she know, wherever we take you?" the psychokinetic teenager asked
intently.

	He looked away.  "There's got to be a place..."

	Well, misfits might not get on well with people, but they always had
secret places to go where they felt comfortable...

		* * *

	With Athena and her infant safely delivered to a hospital, Dr. Salik and
Med Tech Cassiopeia watching over her, and the resources of the Colonials
marshalled around them to ensure their health, Julie Parrish felt a
little out of place.  So she went to a place that was her own -- Science
Frontiers.  She would spend a few hours there before returning to the
hospital to check on Ileen -- Julie was the only one with any familiarity
with a hybrid child, and quite frankly, she was very interested in seeing
if Ileen was going to grow as quickly as Elizabeth, and in the same ways.

	She stared around her old office.  Nothing much had been changed; they'd
kept the place just the way she'd left it -- cleaned up a little, that
was all.  Not much evidence that one of the Visitors had used it, while
wearing her face.  Steve had probably taken care of that -- removing any
trace of the other Juliet; he'd probably been as uncomfortable with it as
she would have been, to be surrounded by those memories.  The only
difference she could spot was the new filing cabinet and the neatly piled
stacks of report folders settled on the left side of the desk and on top
of the cabinet.  Well, research had been ongoing after her kidnaping; who
knew what had been accomplished?

	She picked up the pair of wire-rimmed glasses lying next to the reports.
 She'd left them there the day she was kidnaped.  Had they really been
undisturbed that long?  Had the alien Juliet used them?  Not likely; she
recalled the Visitors had uniformly good eyesight.  Steve again, no
doubt.

	That was a comforting thought.

	But surely Juliet had used the office...?  Maybe not; maybe she'd spent
all her time in those underground research labs that the Visitors hadn't
bothered to tell the humans about, or toadying around after Diana.  She
shivered.  That image, frankly, made her feel a little ill.

	Settling the glasses on her nose, and drawing a deep breath, she picked
up the report folders.  "Zygote Division in the Cloning Process,"
"Introduction of Genetic Material in the Zygote Stage of Development,"
"Human Markers of Psi-Connected Genes"...

	"Elizabeth," she murmured.  "These must be from when--"

	"Knock, knock."  A rap on the door accompanied that announcement.

	"Mike!"  She dropped the files and reached for his hand.  "I didn't know
you were in the Los Angeles area!  I thought you and Sean were up north."

	"And we were!" he came back impishly.  "But I couldn't stay away from
you any more.  Although I didn't think you'd be here, I was just hoping
to get your address and phone number from Steve or one of your
assistants!  And I hear congratulations are in order!"

	She laughed.  "Yes.  A healthy baby girl, as far as I could tell.  And
Athena is doing all right, better than I expected, considering she went
into labor early and had to deliver naturally."

	"Really!"  Mike looked concerned.  "She actually went into labor?  And
had the baby naturally?  I thought you said, when Robin was close to her
time, that a human would never survive a natural delivery of a Visitor
baby."

	"Frankly, I didn't think she was going to survive!  And she might not
have, except for one of their Colonial doctors showing up.  Made me
feel...a little inadequate and unnecessary."  She concluded ruefully,
leaning against her desk.

	"Well, we're learning a lot from our brothers in space," Donovan
reminded her.  "I think, in some ways, they're ahead of the Visitors! 
Which I think is good -- makes me feel less inadequate as a human, to
know other humans are just as advanced as the Visitors!"

	She laughed at that.  It felt so good to have him here to confide in! 
"I understand what you mean, Mike.  It's just that, I felt so helpless,
when Athena went into labor.  It was early, I had almost no equipment, I
was afraid she and the baby both would die, and there seemed to be
nothing I could do."

	"But you obviously did something right."

	"Just long enough, until the others arrived.  I couldn't have done it on
my own."

	"Do you know that for sure?"

	"Well..."

	"See?" he teased her with a wide grin.  "I've known you to do a lot of
impossible things over the last two years.  You'd've found a way.  But
tell me about the baby!  What's she like?  Do we have another Starchild
on our hands?"

	"It's a little soon to tell that, Mike."  She turned and absently
stacked the files back on the cabinet.  "We really don't have a whole lot
to judge by -- she's only a few hours old!  Elizabeth might be the norm
-- or she might be an anomaly we could never recreate in a million
pregnancies!"

	"Well, we should know in a few weeks!"

	"True."  She hesitated.  "Oh, Mike, you don't know how good it is to see
you again.  And how good it is not to feel like everything's on my
shoulders..."  She finally stepped into his embrace when he held out his
arms to her.

		* * *

	Diana felt curiously excited.  There was no tangible reason for it,
especially since the appearance of the Leader's Mothership meant that
Elizabeth was back.  The Starchild had obviously been accepted by her
people, and had successfully passed the tests of Investiture.  She was
now the Leader, and she was returning to Earth, for whatever reasons.

	Her gaze strayed again from her report to the window.  She could see the
Leader's Mothership, bathed in reflected light from the moon.  At a
respectful distance, she could make out the Colonials' battle ship, the
-Galactica-.  Somewhere beyond her sight was the new ship the Colonials
and humans were building.

	It didn't belong here.  Those Colonials didn't belong here.  That
-Galactica- didn't belong here.  Without them, the -Enterprise- would not
be a reality.  Without them, the humans would have been easier to
control, or to destroy, when the need came.  A pity the enemy hadn't
destroyed these miserable creatures in their millennium-long war -- but
then, if the Colonials hadn't been there to absorb the brunt of Cylon
efforts for that thousand years, would the Sirians have had time to
prepare and strike back?

	She studied the Leader's Mothership again.  Why had Elizabeth come back?
 And on this day of all days, a solemn religious observance in honor of
the Progenitors, their original founders, the siblings of Raman?  What
impact had Investiture had on her?  There were rumors -- hidden, buried
history, not taught or spoken, nor even acknowledged by those who wanted
to advance in society -- of Leaders being so changed by Investiture as to
be unrecognizable, unpredictable, even mad by any scale of their people.

	If she asked, would Elizabeth grant her an audience?

	What would she gain if she did?

	Her thoughts were interrupted by a discreet chime.

	"Enter."  As though anyone on the Toronto Mothership would obey if she
said no.

	A young male in Security insignia entered diffidently and snapped to
attention.  "I was instructed to deliver a message."

	"Deliver it and go."  What new humiliation had Damian or Michelle
devised for her?

	"You are to be ready at ten o'clock tonight."

	That caught her attention.  "Ready...for what?"

	He glanced significantly at the door.  "You are to be ready.."

	He was gone before she could respond.

		* * *

	They'd gone to the Science Frontiers commissary for coffee, but neither
one was drinking very much.  Mike had ignored the coffee entirely, and
Julie had finished only about half of hers before concern took away any
her appetite for anything.

	"So no one's heard from Kyle in a week?"

	"I've talked to everyone I know who might have an idea where he is.  No
one has seen him, no one has talked to him, he hasn't called anybody, no
messages to anyone.  None of his neighbors have seen him in days."

	She leaned her face on one hand.

	"And the guy who seems to have seen him last says he was jumpy, kind of
haunted looking -- and he drove out of the parking lot like his tail was
on fire."

	Julie shook her head.  "That doesn't sound like Kyle..."

	"I've reported it to the local police, but they say there's no sign of
foul play, so it's not very high on their priority list."

	"Well, with Elizabeth coming back, I would think he'd show up."

	"That's one of the things that worries me..."

		* * *

	Captain Apollo stood outside the door to the room, watching the doctors
and nurses as they examined Athena and little Ileen.  The Earth hospital
was a confusing mixture of technologies, he mused, focusing on that to
keep his mind occupied.  Earth's medical level hadn't been as advanced as
the Visitors, but had quickly accepted some of the alien benefits.  Now,
over the past eight months, they'd also begun incorporating Colonial
medical technology and expertise.

	The human doctors were more comfortable with Colonial science than
Visitor science -- for some of them, survivors of Visitor purges and
round-ups, with dead and missing family members, even admitting the
Visitors were more advanced was difficult.  Easier to say that Visitors
were alien, to dismiss their medicine as not appropriate for humans.  For
those doctors and medical staff, the arrival of the refugee Colonials
wiped out the subconscious fears of inferiority, according to Cassiopeia.
 Now Visitor medicine was just different, not something shoved down human
throats by invaders as evidence of superiority.  Humans were advanced
too.

	Apollo hadn't thought about that much.  The quest for Earth had always
been founded on the belief of humans there being able to help in the
struggle against the Cylons.  Honestly, if the Visitors hadn't already
opened human eyes to the galaxy, and united the humans against a common
foe -- the Visitors -- it might have been more difficult.

	He glanced at his father, who seemed lost in his own thoughts, paying no
attention to anyone else.  That wasn't uncommon these days; Apollo
wondered what his father was really thinking.  He'd been silent for so
many days, and wasn't speaking to Tigh or his other old friends.  But he
thought he'd seen a spark of life again when his father held the baby,
even though Adama hadn't said anything during the trip to this Los
Angeles hospital.

	The people here had moved aside where Adama walked.  The look in their
eyes had been familiar to Apollo -- awe and respect and silent pleas.  He
had see that look among the survivors, at first, when they were still in
shock and just so glad to be alive that they all but worshipped the man
who'd made it possible, in their eyes.  Only later did they seem to
remember that they were hungry, and thirsty, and had lost everything, and
had nowhere to go, and that the warriors had been unable to protect them.
 That was when the muttering had begun, and the accusations--

	Dr. Salik came out with a nurse and another doctor he identified as
McIntyre.  "They're both fine," Salik announced.  "We'll keep monitoring
them, of course, and I expect Dr. Parrish will be back shortly -- she's
the only one with experience in hybrids.  But so far, everything looks
great, for both of them.  In fact, I expect--"

	The door behind him opened again; Athena stepped out among the others. 
She looked distant, her attention focused elsewhere.

	Adama stepped forward to take her hand.  "Athena, should you be moving
around so soon?"

	"I'm fine, Father," she said.  "I want to see Ileen."

	"Of course."  Salik nodded at the nurse, who stepped into the adjoining
examining room.

	"And then we are going to see Douglas."

	Adama and Apollo exchanged glances.

	"He's in the waiting area."   <Under guard,> but Apollo didn't say that
aloud.

	Athena turned to Salik.  "I want Ileen, and then we will go to her
father.  He is entitled to see our child, our little Starchild."

	"Athena," the doctor began, "perhaps we should consider taking you back
to the -Galactica--"

	"We will stay here."

	"What?  Why would you want to stay here?" Apollo interjected.

	She glanced at her brother, then her attention went past him to the
nurse, approaching with a baby in her arms; the child was silent, but one
little arm could be seen waving outside the blanket.  A smile blossomed
on Athena's face and she stepped forward, arms out, to take the baby. 
"We will see Douglas, and we will stay here.  It's what Ileen wants."

	<Ileen wants to stay here?>   Uneasy, father and son exchanged glances.

	But Athena had decided, and that was that.

		* * *

	Ham Tyler still hated the Visitors.  It was an honest, visceral hatred. 
They weren't to be trusted, not even Philip, and the other Fifth
Columnists, not really.  Perhaps especially not Fifth Columnists.  For
all that she'd done, he wasn't sure if Elizabeth was still to be trusted.
 True, his life history to date was not conducive to trust of anyone,
beyond his immediate cohorts, like Chris Farber.  But Chris and the other
mercenaries-cum-freedom fighters he worked with were the kind of men and
women you could entrust your life with.

	Not like the Visitors.

	That British agent might have assured him that the Visitor he was
meeting tonight could be trusted, and had valuable information, but that
didn't mean Ham Tyler was going to like him or accept anything he said at
face value -- and Tyler was certainly going to verify any information
this alien provided before acting on it.

	He heard footsteps on the asphalt of the huge, abandoned four-lane
tunnel -- the road to which it connected hadn't yet been rebuilt -- and
tightened his grip on the Israeli-built assault rifle.  It couldn't be
Chris -- for a big man, Chris could move in eerie silence when he needed
to, no matter what the surroundings.  Ditto for the rest of the team he
worked with these days.

	That meant it was the Visitor informant, or should be.

	A shape moved into his view, a slim shadow cast before it from the
single sharp, yellow light set two dozen yards into the tunnel.  There
had once been dozens of the lights strung through the passage; Ham had
made sure there was only one working tonight.

	"Stop right there."

	The footsteps halted.

	"You're within our sights.  Put your hands together over your head, and
step forward slowly."

	The figure complied, taking several slow steps to come within reach of
the shadowed maintenance door where Tyler waited.  He reached out,
grabbed fabric, and spun the Visitor around, slamming him into the solid
concrete side of the tunnel, face to the wall.  He heard air whoosh out
of alien lungs -- he knew Visitors had lungs, he'd opened up enough of
them to know, even if there hadn't usually been much left to examine when
his bullets and bombs had done their work.

	Farber materialized beside him, having following the Visitor in
completely undetected, as Tyler had expected.  While Ham kept his gun in
the alien's back, Farber quickly frisked him.

	"No weapons," he grunted, then vanished back into the shadows.

	"All right."  He gripped the young Visitor's shoulder long enough to
spin him around again so he could meet his eyes.  "Identify yourself!" 
Tyler shoved the barrel under the other's chin, just to make sure he knew
the human meant business.

	"Julian...from the London Mothership..."

	There was just enough light that he could see the Visitor matched the
general description of his contact -- young, dark-complexioned, in the
uniform of a junior officer from the London Mothership.  "Prove it."

	"I believe I have...information on the Renegades..." the male responded
cautiously.

	Tyler just laughed, a sound darker than the night.

	"I've been working with Commander Bond..."

	"Not with Commander Katherine, the cold-blooded witch who waits to see
which side is going to win before deciding which way to jump?"

	"No.  She doesn't know--"

	"I'm still waiting."  He nudged the alien's chin up, forcing his head
against the wall.

	Anger flared in the dark alien eyes, and Tyler had to admit a grudging
respect.  He would've been angry too, at being treated the way he was
treating the alien.  But it was far too easy for the Visitors to take
other faces; until he knew for sure who he was dealing with...

	"Her name is Bond."

	"Why?"

	"Because she was his wife."

	Tyler backed off a little; Julian shifted his feet to a more comfortable
stance.

	"And the counter-sign?"

	The human felt something against a rib, and glanced down for a second.

	"Where the hell--"  Ham was shocked to discover a thin blade pressed
against his skin, a gesture so smooth he hadn't seen it coming, and so
well done that someone might stand right beside the two of them and not
see it.  How had Farber missed that?  And more important at the moment,
how good was the alien with it?  And was it perhaps poisoned?  A good
agent would take every precaution--

	"That's not it."

	Tyler found himself grinning without humor.  "You're good, kid--"

	Farber bolted from the darkness.

	Generally, the Visitors were stronger than the humans, and in a
one-on-one fight, all other things being even, a Visitor would win.  But
Chris had the advantage of size, as well as being unexpected.  In a
second, Julian was on his knees in an armlock and the stiletto was
several yards away.

	"--But not good enough."

	"Get rid of him?" Chris asked blandly.

	"No.  He's our man."  Tyler's grin widened.  "And the countersign is
shaken, not stirred.  So what do you have to tell us that Bond couldn't
tell us himself?"

	Farber stepped back, and the Visitor slowly got back to his feet.

	"Your Commander Bond is a little busy at the moment."  He glared at them
both.  "So I was to bring you the new information."

	"What kind of information."

	"I'm not sure, but it's in a mini computer disc in the handle of the
knife."

	Farber had already retrieved the blade.  He examined it briefly for any
traps or bombs.  Then a twist of the handle broke the seal, and the disc
slid out into his big palm.  He nodded at Tyler and vanished yet again.

	"Thanks, Julian.  So long."

	Ham turned and walked away.  No point in prolonging the conversation.

	A few moments later, he turned down another maintenance passage, and,
after pausing to be sure he wasn't being followed, dropped out of sight
into the underground tunnels that had provided a safe hiding place for
members of the Midwest Resistance.

	"A little hard on him, weren't you?" Faceman asked from where he stood,
next to the man monitoring the tunnel.  Beside him, Smith lit another of
his interminable cigars.

	"I wasn't interested in dating his sister."

	"And people say *I'm* paranoid," pouted another of Smith's men, who was
dressed in a World War I pilot's uniform.  "This dude gives paranoia a
whole 'nother meaning.  Let's go, Snoopy."  He sighed dramatically, then
grinned at Tyler as he brushed past to stand beside Templeton Peck.

	"All this spy business..."  Peck shook his head.  "You'd think, with the
war over, we should at least be able to work with our own military and
use our own communications systems -- but this British guy is convinced
the Renegades have found ways to infiltrate our forces and intercept our
communications."

	"Like they found ways to get the antidote," Murdock added, throwing his
scarf over his shoulder.

	"Maybe we should work through the Colonials?  Like Starbuck?"  Colonel
Smith grinned at the blond man's uncontrollable shiver.  "Come on, Face,
he can't help it if he looks like you.  Guys like us wouldn't be happy
any other way anyway, without some kind of battle to fight, and nor would
you, Tyler--"

	Tyler barely glanced at the khaki-clad former special forces team;
trying to understand or control Smith's people was an impossible task for
anyone but Smith.  Instead, he kept walking, leaving their conversation
behind.  His attention was on the thin bespectacled man already decoding
the computer information.  "Come on, Bozinski, what was it James wanted
to tell us so badly?"

	"Boss..."  The computer wizard murmured, then looked up, wide-eyed.  "I
think this is big..."

		* * *

	Nine-thirty...  Nine-thirty-one...  Nine-thirty-two...  Diana kept
glancing at the clock, trying not to count the seconds.  Time passed
slowly on the Toronto Mothership this night.

	She tried to concentrate on the figures in her report, the results of a
hypothetical experiment in genetic manipulation -- she didn't ask what
Damian wanted with these experiments, merely assumed that it was devious,
for his own purposes, and that any questions from her would not be
welcome.  She also knew Commander Damian well enough to know that any
attempt to use that information against him would result in her death, in
a very unpleasant way.  He was the only commander in the Sirian fleet who
actually scared Diana, in any real and significant way.

	However, he had no way of knowing that some of these "hypothetical"
experiments...weren't.


	Nine-forty-two...  Nine-forty-three...  Nine-forty-four...

	She gave up on the report.

	What was going to happen at ten o'clock?  She hadn't recognized the
messenger.  Was he one of hers, a renegade?  Maybe this was the time,
maybe everything was in place.  It would be the perfect time.  This was a
religious day, most Sirians who weren't on active duty would be quietly
meditating in their own quarters.  When better?

	Nine-fifty-five...

	Or was this a trap of Damian's, to see how she'd react, if she'd go
along with it? <Does he want me to betray myself and the ones still
working for me?  Am I to be stopped at the door to a skyfighter, and led
off for execution while he laughs at me?  Or am I simply to be killed in
an apparent escape attempt?  No, I think he'd want to humiliate me. 
Privately, secretly, if he believed he could get away with it.>

	Nine-fifty-six...

	<Michelle is the one who would want to see me dead with no witnesses, no
trial -- and that security witch of hers would do it.>  She no longer had
any delustions about Lucinda coming to her point of view; the woman was
fanatically devoted to Michelle, and Michelle would have nothing to do
with Diana.  And Lucinda would be perfectly willing to take advantage of
the holy day, to shed blood in defiance of the Progenitors themselves.

	Nine-fifty-seven...

	Should she remain in her chair and resume reading her report?  Should
she move to the door, ready to act?

	Nine-fifty-eight...

	<But what if they've already found out where my people are?  What if
this is just to destroy my morale?  To make me think I could escape, but
then nothing will happen?  They could use it against me if I seem to be
preparing to escape.  But if they've already discovered my people, they'd
just arrest me again, wouldn't they?  Or simply have Lucinda kill me
quietly...>

	Nine-fifty-nine...

	<I won't die easily.>  She picked up the genetic report, acutely aware
of the passing seconds.

	Ten.

	Her door swished open; Diana nearly jumped out of her humanskin.

	"How dare you--"

	It was the same young male, with a companion, one she recognized.  Both
were armed.

	"Aaron--"

	"Diana.  This is Loren, one of ours.  We've got a skyfighter ready. 
Everything's set."

	Aaron had been one of hers from the beginning, one of the Renegades. 
This was no trap.  She threw down the report and raced with them out the
door.  The three Visitors headed for the skyfighter launch bay.

	The Toronto Mothership was quiet; as Diana had expected, it seemed most
of the crew were in their quarters, in quiet religious observance in
honor of the old ones.  Their footsteps echoed in the corridors as they
ran.

	None of them really expected to make their escape undetected.  Damian
was too paranoid, and Michelle's security chief was too thorough. 
Halfway to the bay, the alarm klaxons went off.  A second later, the
ship's intercom scratched into life.

	"Security alert.  Prisoner escape.  Security alert.  All security to
stations."

	"That way, Diana!"  Aaron pointed to a conduit.  "It opens at the rear
of the bay, near the fighter.  Rachel is waiting for you.  We have a
diversion ready for the right moment.  Loren, go with her."

	The young Visitor nodded and turned to the conduit, pulling off the
grid.

	"What about you?"

	"We'll cover your escape."

	At that second, two more Visitors raced around the corner toward them. 
Diana didn't recognize the one, but the other...was the image of her.

	Aaron smiled at her, fire gleaming in his eyes.  "Lucinda will have
another target to worry about, in plain sight.  She won't think to look
for you."

	"You'll be remembered for this.  And rewarded." <If you survive.>  Diana
quickly turned and followed Loren into the conduit.

	Aaron sealed it behind her, then he and other two took off down the
corridor.

		* * *

	"Lucinda!"  Michelle ran into the security ward, looking for her chief. 
"What's happening!  Is it Diana?"

	The female appeared from the monitoring room, clothed only in the
meditation robe -- Lucinda respected the old ways in all things.  "Yes,"
Lucinda replied briefly.  "She's left her quarters; so have James and
Juliet.  I've sent teams into all corridors and doubled the guard in the
bay; they won't escape."

	"I know they won't, not with you after them."  Michelle sighed.  The
trio had better not escape; Commander Damian would not be pleased if they
did.  And if he was not pleased, everyone knew it, and everyone suffered
for it.  "Was there sabotage?"

	"Yes.  Our internal security monitoring went offline for a few minutes;
when we got it back online, they were gone."

	"Then we have traitors on this ship."  Could she expect otherwise? 
Damian's partisans, her own, several other officers with their own small
coteries, a few independents who followed no one -- she'd expected Diana
to have them too.  She had also expected that between herself and Damian,
Diana would be so on guard and unsettled that she would never be able to
organize anything.  Unless their commander had something to do with it...

	"Permission to join the hunt," Lucinda asked.

	"Granted.  Go."

	Lucinda shrugged off the robe and ran, pausing long enough to grab a
laser pistol and a barbed knife, an old, traditional weapon.

	"Michelle!"  It was Terrance, a communications officer.

	"What is it?"

	"Word from the planet!"  He was out of breath, eyes wild.  "Some of the
humans, they have found word of a plot to free Diana.  Tonight, now..."

	"I'm aware of it.  Where is Commander Damian?"

	"I couldn't find him!  I was supposed to give this word directly to him,
only to him, they ordered, but I couldn't find him, he didn't answer his
page, and he wasn't in his quarters..."  The youth was babbling,
terrified.

	Michelle felt calm descend.  "You did your duty, Terrance," she assured
him.  "And you chose correctly in bringing this to me when you could not
find him.  What other information was provided?" 

	"The timing, that there was an Earth group of Renegades involved, and
that there was sabotage planned for our ship."

	"Send word to the other motherships, prepare our fighters.  And alert
the human battlestar as well."

	"But we can't!"

	"What?"

	"Our communications went out a few minutes ago, shortly after we
received this message, we can't contact anybody outside the ship!"

	That would match the time the internal security monitors went out. 
Michelle hissed.  Terrance had tried to find the commander to notify him
of the warning the humans had given.  But Damian had not answered, had
been out of touch with his command bridge.  And now it appeared Diana was
escaping, and their own communications systems was probably so sabotaged
that they wouldn't be able to warn anybody else.  She found herself
smiling.  If Diana succeeded, due to Damian's absence, it might finally
be his downfall...

		* * *

	Diana and Loren reached the bay and took cover, waiting for the
diversion Aaron had promised.  There was laser fire at the other end.

	"Is that the diversion?" Diana asked.  She wished for a moment that
she'd had more knowledge of the escape planned by the Renegades, but knew
that the less she was aware of, the less she could reveal accidentally,
and the less that she could be accused of, if anything went wrong.

	"No, it should be an explosion."  His eyes rested on her as if devouring
her.  "But I suspect that's the second team -- Aaron planned to rescue
James and Juliet as well."

	Drops of sour fluid reflexively dropped from her venom pits.  
<Juliet...>  James, she could find uses for, but Juliet...

	"Where is your loyalty," she snarled at the young male, so obviously
enamored of her.

	"To you, Diana, no one else," he vowed.

	"Then make sure Juliet doesn't make it to the escape shuttle -- but
don't let anyone know you had anything to do with it."

	His eyes glowed with purpose at the assignment.  "I will!  And James?"

	"We need him yet -- but it will be to our benefit if he believes
Damian's people killed his mate."

	Loren threw back his head, baring his throat to her for a second, then
was gone across the bay.

	It seemed only seconds later that an explosion rocked the bay, and a
skyfighter exploded somewhere in the row; dark smoke spread lazily
through the bay.  In another of the fighters, a female appeared in the
doorway.  Diana recognized Rachel and raced toward that ship.

	"Commander Diana," the woman greeted her.  "Welcome aboard."

	"Who else is coming?" she demanded as she climbed the steps.

	"If we all make it, fourteen from this ship, three from the Earth
Renegades, and James and Juliet.  A skyfighter from our Earth base will
be rendezvousing with us."

	"Good."  Diana smiled secretively, suspecting there would be several
less than that aboard her ship.  "Let's be ready to leave as soon as we
can, or as soon as we have to."

		* * *

	Lucinda trusted her instincts, always.  Those instincts told her which
was the most likely route Diana would use.  The sound of weaponsfire
through that corridor confirmed that she had chosen correctly, and she
hurried her steps.

	There.

	She crouched beside a set of access stairs, studying the layout of the
fight.  She could see the Renegades taking cover behind similar access
stairs and a conduit cover, pulled out and braced against the open panel.
 Diana was hiding behind a male she recognized as Aaron, from technical
maintenance.  It was to be expected, that Diana would hide from the risk
of fire, she thought contemptuously.  And with Aaron, they might well
have the source of most of whatever sabotage had been done.  The other
male with them, on the opposite side of the corridor, was a junior staff
officer.  They were exchanging fire with a team of at least four of her
security officers at the next junction.

	As she watched, Diana moved toward the open conduit, obviously intent on
escaping that way.

	Lucinda hissed, venom rising in her mouth.  Escape could not be allowed.

	She wouldn't use the laser; treason deserved a traitor's weapon.

	She spat a thin stream of venom onto the barbed blade, then threw with
flawless aim and all the force she was capable of.

	The woman screamed, stumbling against the wall and collapsing, the knife
buried deep in her spine.

	Only then did the two men realize there was someone behind them, and
turned.

	They were traitors, but lesser.  They deserved the laser.  She shot them
both before they could turn their own weapons on her.

	"Cease fire!"  Lucinda stood up and slowly approached the fallen
Renegades, her bare feet silent on the metal decking.  

	The males were dead, as she'd expected.  The woman was still alive, face
contorted in agony.  The blade had severed her spine and buried itself
deep in her stomach; her lower limbs were useless.  The poison she'd spat
on the knife was working through her system and into her brain.  Lucinda
dropped to the balls of her feet and crouched near the dying woman's ear.

	"You are a traitor to Raman and to the will of the Leader," she
whispered.  "Die in the pain you have caused and deserve."

	Diana's mouth moved as if to spit poison of her own, but quivered and
stiffened in rictus.  The false human eyes rolled out of her sockets;
Lucinda watched dispassionately as the amber of her natural eyes rolled
up and slowly darkened with death.

	The eyes...

	Something wasn't right.

	Her security troopers raced up, unable to avoid smiling triumphantly in
success.

	She grabbed the thick dark hair of Diana's wig and ripped it free.  The
flaccid crest beneath it was pale green, flecked with brown.

	"It's not Diana!" she snarled, throwing herself to her feet and moving
past her men.  "This was a decoy!  Find her!  She'll have gone to the
bay, she has to.  And--" She grabbed the arm of one of her people. 
"--send these carrion to the morgue for complete identification and
disposal.  Their families will know their disgrace."

		* * *

	Four more troopers staggered out of the billowing smoke, coughing and
eyes watering, weapons drawn.  Behind them, the yells continued -- sounds
of technicians fighting the fires, and security troopers trying to locate
the Renegades.  The four reached the skyfighter and joined six already
aboard.

	Among the new arrivals was James.  In his arms, he carried the limp form
of a Visitor female, blonde hair hanging over his shoulder where her head
rested.

	"James!"  Diana stepped forward, her face concerned.

	He looked at her, grief and rage in his human face.  "Juliet."  He set
the woman down carefully.  "They killed my mate.  I was shielding her,
she had no weapon, she was never a soldier.  Somehow, one of them killed
her."  He hung over her body, keening a death chant.

	She touched his shoulder in sympathy, then stepped back to the door.

	"Who's not accounted for?" she asked Craig, who had taken over guard
duty there while Rachel prepared for launch.

	"Aaron, Corinne, and Gerard -- but there was a report that they were
pinned down, a few minutes ago."


	Diana had no expectation that Aaron's team would reach them -- it had
been unstated in their farewell.  "They knew what they were doing.  Who
else?"

	"Loren and Tamara--"

	Two more figures pelted out of the darkness, the remaining Renegades in
this part of the plan.

	"Here!" Craig yelled at them; they staggered aboard, gasping in the
clean air.

	"Seal the hatch," Diana ordered.  "Rachel, get us out of here."

	"But Aaron--"

	"Dead...!" Tamara forced out.  She was a security trooper, the wild card
in their escape plan, one last hope if they were captured.  "As I left my
post, I heard that Lucinda had killed them all -- and they know it wasn't
Diana...  They've almost got communications back in operation, they'll be
alerting the other motherships..."

	"You heard," Diana snapped.  "Launch, now!  And fire on the bay as we
leave!"

	The skyfighter launched.

	And then delivered a quick burst of laser fire before heading for space.


	Chapter Five:  Battle Rejoined


	"Omega!"

	"What is it, Rigel?"

	The young woman turned wide eyes on the flight officer.  "We're picking
up explosions on the Toronto Mothership!  She's on fire!"

	"How serious?"

	"It looks bad," she responded.  "Fire seems to be spreading internally."

	"Is she signaling?"

	"No."  She shook her head vigorously, sending her long braids flying.

	"They haven't requested assistance of anyone?" he asked, nonplussed.

	"Not that we've picked up."

	"Then we'll contact them.  Ask if they require assistance, either with
firefighting or evacuation."

	Uneasy, Omega checked squadron status for the -Galactica-, then for the
squadron currently based at Miramar on Earth.

	"They're not responding!  I think their comm system must be out!" Rigel
called up to him.

	Omega glanced at one of the monitors.  The young man's tense expression
bore out Rigel's report.  "They're in no danger of exploding at the
moment," the officer reported.  "But if the fire spreads, it could be
uncontrollable in half an hour, less if it hits a major power system or
the weapons arsenal."

	Sudden visions of the -Atlantia- seared into Omega's brain, of other
ships at Cimtar and after, fire and air loss and explosions, thousands
dead...

	"Rescue teams stand by," he snapped.  "What's Commander Adama's
location?"

	"At a hospital in Los Angeles."

	"What?"

	"With Athena and the baby," the woman clarified.  "And Captain Apollo."

	"Let him know what's happening.  And Colonel Tigh at Miramar.  And the
other Visitors, if they haven't already picked it up."  The -Galactica-
bridge crew snapped into action.

		* * *

	Elizabeth had returned to her Mothership.  She now sat alone on the
command dais in her briefing chamber.  Her expression was introspective,
but hardly serene.  Something dark and hard and angry narrowed her eyes. 
Her advisors waited, clustered apart from her, uneasy at what they sensed
and afraid to ask.

	<Find the enemies of the People...>

	The deep violet gleam in her eyes intensified, and sparks began to flare
in the blue aura surrounding 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 his 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 not 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 reached 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 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 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. <Baby hunger?   Possible,> 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,
what, 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.  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
back 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 with 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, and 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 growl, 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 exist 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 gone..."

	"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 with 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 your 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."  <Thank the Lords they
didn't wait, they had little enough time together as it was.>  "And when
Starbuck gets married, I'll bet it's a private little ceremony with no
one else there." <Except maybe the armed guards to make sure he doesn't
turn and run!>   "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 shadow 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 patrol 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
glanced 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 fire, 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 Mothership.  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
back.  "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 Starbuck, 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 they'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."   <And been outnumbered.  And probably
died.>   "Let me know as soon as we hear 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--"

	"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
suspect 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.

	<Boomer can't do it alone, after all,> he told himself, straining 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 reconcile 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 you 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 refused 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 group 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 if
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 battlestar, 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 she'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!>   "Boomer?"

	Omega shook 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."

	<Starbuck...>  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 else 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.  The 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 access
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 in his throat.

			Chapter Six:  Ceres' End


	<What hit me?>

	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...

	Starbuck groaned.  It was familiar.

	Cylons.

	He was on a Cylon base ship.  In a cell.  A prisoner. <Sagan help me...>

		* * *

	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 survivors 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."

	<I'm so sorry, my friend.  I'll grieve for you, more than I realized...>

		* * *

	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
metal, 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.  Ostentatious
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.  <Make this human an ally.  Use what he knows. 
Use his vanity and insecurity.>

	"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 from 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 long 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, 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.   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 said 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 though 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 door 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.

	<Apollo!  Lords of Kobol, they got Apollo too...>


		* * *

	"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."

	He 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 absent,
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's 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 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..."

	Elizabeth 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 Leader, 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 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 it -- 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 her
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 Visitor 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, 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 Mothership
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, Investiture 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 anything 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 throw 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 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."

	"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 silently 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 hands.  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 Leader 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."

	<Finally!>  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 coming 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 appear 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 back 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 tones, 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, 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.

	"Starbuck..."  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 years, 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 the 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, and 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...