
          Battlestar Galactica: Baltar's Escape
                     By Eric Paddon
                     Epaddon@aol.com

Prologue

     For a micron, Adama hesitated before beginning his journal entry,
wondering if he really felt up to doing it after what he'd gone through
in the last cycle.  But then, he realized he could probably use the
occasion to express his feelings aloud, so he activated the switch and
began to record.
     "The last twenty-four centars, since the return of Apollo and
Starbuck and our temporary prisoners from the force known as the Eastern
Alliance have raised more troubling questions than I can ever recall on a
single occasion in some time.  At least not since we found ourselves
pondering the enigma of the one called Count Iblis.
     "There is of course the disappointment that comes from the star
charts found on Paradeen that indicate clearly that this planet Terra,
the center of this human civilization, is not the planet Earth we seek. 
I am not prepared to believe that the ancient ones, with their vast
knowledge of science and technology, could have made recordings in the
Book of the Word and the Testament of Arkada that are so much at variance
with the planetary system we know Terra to lie in.  They tell us of Earth
being the third planet in a solar system of nine.  Terra, by all
indications is the first planet in a solar system of only three, thus
accounting for the existence of these satellite worlds that seemingly
stretch out a great distance beyond the home solar system.  With
Paradeen, evidently the outermost of these satellite worlds.
     "And with that revelation, we find ourselves also facing the
difficult question raised by the knowledge of civil war in Terran
civilization between the so-called Nationalists and the Eastern Alliance. 
Of the Nationalists, we know very little, but the reality of what the
Eastern Alliance stands for is clear to us in our prisoners and their
captured destroyer, as well as the report brought back by Apollo and
Starbuck of what the Alliance did on Paradeen.
     "With this information so clear from the report, it astonished me
last evening when I made my report to the Council of Twelve on what
Apollo and Starbuck witnessed on Paradeen.  From each of the members
present there was a tendency to disbelieve what Starbuck and Apollo had
seen, and to also question the wisdom of bringing back the Alliance
warriors as prisoners.  It would seem that the experience of the events
last sectan regarding Michael and Sarah left them of a mind to question
whether those in opposition to Michael and Sarah could necessarily
represent an evil force.  In particular, Sire Domra and Siress Tinia
questioned the ability of Apollo and Starbuck to be objective witnesses,
and that what was needed instead was a more diplomatic approach to
dealing with the Alliance warriors, who for some reason they insisted on
calling 'representatives.'
     "I fear that their anger with me over last sectan's events, when I
made my decision to disregard their edict, has clouded their ability to
objectively assess the situation.  While I must acknowledge some
responsibility for treating them harshly as individuals, I can not accept
this new determination to disregard the facts simply because of their
personal prejudices.  If this were allowed to go unchecked, then my
greatest fear would be to see the Council act in a rash manner to
reassert power in areas they are not yet ready to deal with.  And the end
result would inevitably bring us the same disaster we experienced at
Carillon when Sire Uri attempted to have us disregard the facts in the
hopes of finding a quick and easy solution to our problems.
     "I found the absence of Sire Anton from last night's meeting to be
an ominous sign.  Anton is perhaps the most loyal ally I have on the
Council, and he would not have avoided attending the meeting were he not
privy to some information that I feel the Council is currently holding
back from me.  Young Sire Antipas' absence also seems to indicate that. 
Why they have chosen not to reveal this to me, I do not know.  But I fear
it is only a matter of time.
     "Today, I will personally interrogate the commander of this Alliance
ship, Commandant Leiter, to try and get a more firsthand picture of what
kind of men these Alliance warriors are.  And then, I hope my next report
before the Council this afternoon, will at least bring about more
productive results than last evening's did."
     No sooner had Adama shut off the recorder than he heard the chime
sound, "Enter!"
     The door opened and Adama was pleasantly surprised to see his
grandson enter.
     "Boxey!" Adama smiled brightly and extended his arms, "It's good to
see you!  Come up here."
     The little boy climbed up onto his grandfather's lap and Adama
immediately gave him a big hug.
     "Now what brings you here?"
     "Dad was busy with Starbuck, and he said you could tell me why the
children had to leave."
     Adama kept smiling, "You really wanted to make friends with those
children, didn't you?"
     "I never get a chance to see anyone other than the ones in class."
     "Ah.  Well...try to remember Boxey, that they're not all bad. 
You'll learn to like them better in time."  He kissed him on the cheek,
"Now...you wanted me to explain why they had to go.  Well, it has to do
with the air we breathe here on the Galactica.  It's just like the air we
breathed back on Caprica, and that kind of air appears to be just like
the air people breathe on the planet Terra."
     "But isn't that where the children came from?"
     "No," his grandfather shook his head, "Your father explained to me
that those children and their parents came from a planet called Luna
Seven.  Now it was something like...well do you remember how people
used to live far away from Caprica on small planets and asteroids that
weren't even part of the Twelve worlds?"
     "Yeah," Boxey nodded.  "Out...posts?"
     "Right!" Adama said brightly, "Outposts.  Places where people lived
and worked to do things that would help the home planets.  That's what
Luna Seven is.  An outpost where people were sent to work to gather food
to send back to the people of Terra.  But...the people who first lived
there, kept living there, and after awhile their children were used to
breathing the thinner atmosphere of Luna Seven, and they couldn't go back
to Terra any longer.  And that's why they also couldn't stay here with us
and had to go to a planet where they could breathe the air safely."
     "They went back to this...Luna Seven?"
     "No," Adama shook his head, "They had to go to another planet just
like Luna Seven, because there were some bad people they were trying to
escape from?"
     "The Cylons?"
     "No, no Boxey, not the Cylons.  These are...bad people. 
And...it's a little hard to explain, but..." abruptly the door chimed,
and Adama set his grandson down, "But your father can explain it to you
later."
     He went over and answered the door and saw his son and Starbuck
standing in the doorway.  
     "Commander, it's time to take you over to the Prison Barge."
     "Ah yes," Adama nodded and looked back at his grandson.  "Well
Boxey, if you can spare me and your father for a few centars, why don't
you spend some time in the Rejuvenation Center?  I think the new one's
just about ready now, isn't it?"
     "Yeah.  It's even better than the old one was!"
     The little boy dashed out the room, stopping only to get a quick
kiss from Apollo before he was scampering off down the corridor.
     "You know if he thinks it's an improvement, next thing you know
he'll be thankful that Cylon attack destroyed the last one," Starbuck
quipped.
     "And you probably are thankful, since improving the quality of
pleasure centers in this Fleet always meets with your approval, right?"
Apollo needled in return.
     "Hey, I'm always for seeing it done by less drastic measures.  You
know me."
     "Well, gentlemen," Adama observed dryly, "I hope you'll have less
amusing topics of conversation to keep me occupied with during our
journey over."
     "Abso-lutely, sir," Starbuck grinned as the two warriors escorted
the Commander out.


     As the shuttle carried the three of them over to the Prison Barge,
the jocular mood Apollo and Starbuck had been in, fast evaporated once
Adama recounted the details of the last Council meeting.
     "You've got to be kidding me," Starbuck said, "They thought we made
all that stuff up about what those Alliance bilge rats did on Paradeen?"
     "They didn't quite put it that way," Adama said, "However, there was
a general consensus among them that in light of how...overly protective
you were towards that family of humans when you set them loose from the
Galactica, it might have impaired your objectivity when it came to
assessing the situation."
     "Felgercarb," Apollo interjected, and Adama knew right away that if
he son was going to become profane, that meant he was clearly angry
inside.  "We *saw* what the Alliance did there."
     "Correction," Adama said, "You saw the ruins of a city, that Michael
*told* you was destroyed by the Alliance.  Therefore, you only had their
word to go by on that.  That's exactly how Sire Domra put things when
they were dissecting your report with some pretty sharp shears."
     "Well who do they think had it destroyed for sagan's sake?" Starbuck
didn't conceal his disgust.  "Hector and Vector?"
     "They're taking the view that we've stumbled into a conflict in
which we don't have all the necessary facts to form a proper judgment
that influences our next course of action," the commander said, "There's
a small kernel of truth in that.  We don't have enough information to let
us form a final judgment about how we ultimately approach Terra itself,
and what decisions we make relative to our journey, especially now that
we know that Terra isn't Earth."
     "How did they react to that news?" Apollo interrupted.
     Adama sighed, "They...were not entirely convinced even on that
point.  Especially those who are less inclined to rely on the ancient
texts of the Book of the Word and the Testament of Arkada for our
ultimate guidance.  Our key piece of evidence is the fact that Terra is
not the third planet in its system.  Well then when I present them with
the chart you found in the Archives on Paradeen, they just suggest that
perhaps our own ancient texts erred."
     He shook his head, "I sometimes wonder if it's beyond all hope of
reasoning with these people."
     "You appointed them, Father," Apollo reminded, "You thought they
represented the best and brightest left in Colonial civilization after
the Destruction."
     Adama smiled thinly, "Quite true, alas.  It seems that in many of
them, the fires of the Destruction haven't shaken them up as sufficiently
as I'd hoped."  He then could see the looming shape of the Prison Barge
come into view.  "Hopefully by the time I get through talking to this
Commandant Leiter, I'll have the evidence I need to convince the Council
that regardless of what we decide on with Terra, making friends with this
Eastern Alliance should not be among our options."

          Chapter One

     For seemingly endless centars, Baltar had sat in his cell, situated
in the main section of the Galactica's Prison Barge.  Taking note of how
so many more people seemed to be passing through the corridors than was
normally the case for a typical day aboard the penal ship.  It was all
too obvious that the new arrivals in this section, humans from some
militarist type regime in a previously unknown human colony, held
exceptional interest for so many in the Fleet.  And he knew that had to
include Adama and the rest of the Council.
     Perhaps, he thought, his release from Solitary Confinement, not too
many sectans ago, was finally leading to a meaningful result.  His
reluctant decision to save Captain Apollo's life from the hands of his
one-time subordinate, Charybdis, had led to his life sentence being
modified.  Now, instead of having isolation in a single cell, he'd been
returned to the ranks of the regular prison population, free to mingle
with them during work and dining activities.  At first, it was a status
that Baltar had actually found more demeaning and humiliating than
anything.  Being in Solitary Confinement at least, had given him a
feeling of distinction and exceptionalism, and it had also freed him from
having to hear the comments and taunts of the bilge scum who were also
imprisoned aboard this ship.  Since being returned to this status though,
he'd been forced to endure more dirty looks from prisoners who despite
their crimes still thought of themselves as Colonial patriots, and had no
reason to ever think highly of mankind's greatest traitors.  There had
been murmurings and whispers that perhaps one of them might at some time,
see fit to dispense a form of capital punishment on Baltar that Colonial
law could no longer provide.  But they had only remained rumors, and so
Baltar had gone about his demeaning duties, wondering if there'd ever be
any opportunity for him to escape his captivity, and one day find a
destiny that was more befitting him.
     He had reached a point where he had all but given up hope that his
destiny would lie in reunion with the Cylons, and with Lucifer.  Too much
time had passed, and it seemed more and more likely that the Colonial
Fleet had at long last managed to put the danger of Cylon pursuit behind
them once and for all.  If that was the case, any new opportunities would
have to come from finding potential new allies.
     The arrival of those new prisoners, belonging to something called
the "Eastern Alliance" had finally offered the beginnings of new hope for
Baltar.  It had made him formulate some new plans.  Plans that he also
knew would have to include the recruitment of others in the prison
population whose support he would need as well.
     His thoughts were broken when he heard the compartment door at the
other end slide open.  He rose from his bunk to see who had arrived, and
found himself letting out a smirk when he saw that it was Adama.  With
Apollo and Starbuck in tow.
     If ever there were three people in the Fleet who Baltar despised
more above all others, it would be them.  Adama, whom Baltar would
forever blame for forcing him into permanent outcast status from humanity
when the commander had rejected Baltar's offer of a counterstrike against
the Cylons during their confrontation in the Ninth Lord of Kobol's tomb. 
Apollo, who had at first been seemingly receptive to Baltar's proposal,
but who had ultimately been swayed by his father not to trust him.  And
who had then compounded things by using and manipulating him in the
recent affair surrounding Charybdis.  Forcing Baltar into a position of
having to save the Colonial Captain's life, knowing it wouldn't give him
anything meaningful at all.  And Starbuck.  The one who had been the key
to his plan at Kobol, and who had failed to deliver.  And who then had
been at the center of the Charybdis matter recently since Charybdis had
framed Starbuck for a termination.  In saving Apollo, Baltar had also
been forced to save Starbuck as well, only adding to his inner sense of
fury and humiliation.
     When I was a baseship commander, destroying the rest of the human
race was my sole objective, he thought.  Now, if I could only find some
way of destroying the three of them.  Then all of my debts would be
repaid at last.
     He said nothing as the three men passed.  For now, his mind had to
keep plotting the matter of what he hoped would lead to the first
important item on his agenda.  Escaping this stinking pit forever.


     Security Officer Reese wasted little time opening the door to
Commandant Leiter's cell to let Adama in.  Apollo and Starbuck chose to
wait outside, and the two warriors immediately noticed how the Council
Security guard had a very unpleasant expression on his face.
     Obviously still ticked off over that row we had with him last
sectan, Apollo thought.  There was a part of him that regretted the fact
that relations between Warriors and Council Security were so hostile, but
given the haughty attitude they always projected, combined with their
basic sense of general incompetence, it was always hard not to form a
negative view of them.
     He shot a glance at Starbuck and communicated a silent message to
him.  Don't say anything to Reese, and don't provoke a potential
free-for-all.  His friend nodded, which indicated that he got the message
clear.
     So instead, they would stand outside the door, and hear what Adama's
questioning of the Alliance Commander would yield.


     When Adama entered, he saw Leiter standing erect, a haughty,
contemptuous expression on his face.  It perfectly matched the image of
someone Apollo had described in his report of one who had to have been a
ruthless commander who would have had no qualms over ordering the deaths
of so many innocent civilians.
     But for now, the Galactica commander decided he would have to be
diplomatic in his approach.
     "Commandant Leiter," he said in a neutral, non-hostile tone that he
had learned to perfect many yahrens ago, "I'm Commander Adama."
     "I have heard your name," Leiter's voice was cold and unfriendly,
"Sooner or later, you would have to come to me."
     Adama didn't change his expression, "I trust you and your men have
been properly treated."
     "Let us dispense with false pleasantries," Leiter snapped, "I demand
the immediate release of my crew and my ship.  You have no right to
detain us."
     Adama moved across the perimeter of the cell, but still maintaining
his overall distance from the prisoner, "I am afraid you are in no
position to make demands, Commandant.  However, if you would like to take
a seat, and answer a few questions, I would be willing to discuss your
eventual release."  He placed a stress on the word eventual.
     Leiter moved several steps toward Adama so that he was now mere
inches from him.  His expression still one of haughty indignation, he
remained standing.
     "Very well," Adama shrugged and then raised his voice, "Perhaps
then, in a standing position, you will still be able to explain just why
your Eastern Alliance tried to destroy every human being on the Planet
Paradeen."
     "That should be obvious to you, Commander Adama," Leiter said.
     "Should it?"
     "You undoubtedly heard the one-sided report from those escaped
prisoners your men sheltered on that planet.  They are Nationalists.  We
are at war with them and all that they stand for."
     "So you admit that it was your Alliance that was responsible for the
destruction on that planet.  We are clear on that, aren't we?"  Adama
repeated, knowing this would be important for him when he next appeared
before the Council.
     "Of course!" Leiter said contemptuously, "Why should I or any other
member of the Alliance deny it?  In our struggle, any means necessary to
destroy what the Nationalists represent is a legitimate act of war."
     "I see," Adama slowly nodded, not in agreement, but in terse
understanding.  "And just what is it about these Nationalists that arouse
the ire of your Eastern Alliance, that makes you believe you are
justified in waging war against them, to the lengths that you do?"
     "They and their cause consist of people who seek to change the
Natural Order!"
     "The Natural Order being whatever the Alliance dictates?" Adama
mildly retorted.
     "The Natural Order of the Universe simply is what it is.  There can
be no disputing it, from anyone."  a smirk suddenly came over the
Commandant's face, "Forgive me, Commander, but for a technically advanced
people, you really are quite ignorant."
     Adama was unfazed by the insult, "Forgive my...ignorance.  Perhaps
you would be good enough to explain this 'Natural Order' of yours."
     "Very well," Leiter said, "All life forms fall under two
classifications.  Call them what you will, the predator and the prey, the
intelligent and the ignorant, the conquerors and the subjugated. 
Whatever you call them, they are the strong and the weak.  The Eastern
Alliance is the strongest force in the Universe.  We were created to rule
all life, as far as it extends, in whatever form it exists.  It is our
destiny.  To bring the superior virtue of an orderly, regimented society
where all those who are components of, it serve the needs of the state."
     "Ahh," Adama nodded with the faintest edge of disdain, "And these
Nationalists of the Planet Terra, disagree with your natural
theory...your determinist view of how history unfolds with its air of
such...inevitability."
     "It is not a theory, Commander!" Leiter said as he moved several
steps away from him, "It is a law of nature.  One that can not be changed
by any individual, or any individual's set of beliefs that he is somehow
above all of that."
     "I see.  In other words, if one believes in the dignity of the
individual, and his right to pursue his own destiny free from the
interference of regimentally ordered state, he must naturally be crushed
in the face of such a natural law, as you put it."
     "You begin to catch on," Leiter allowed himself a smug smirk.
     "There seems to be one stumbling block to your natural law though,
Commandant," Adama said.  "If your Eastern Alliance has been destined to
be this great force superior to all others according to your natural
law....surely that must preclude the reality of other races in this
universe with technologies and knowledge superior to that of your own,
would it not?"
     "In other words, you ask me to explain your Galactica and the
civilization you come from, Commander?" the Enforcer's smirk widened,
"Your battlestar is impressive, Commander.  But do not take me for a
fool, because in my time here as your prisoner I've been able to learn
the rudimentary facts of your plight.  You come from a destroyed
civilization that has left you but a single warship with no hope of ever
reinforcing your numbers.  That means, that it is quite within our
capability to dispatch of your battlestar as easily as the wolfpack does
the bear."
     Adama's ears perked as he heard Leiter use names for animals that he
could only recall being used by an obscure dialect of the Gemonese.  Just
as that same dialect used the name "Terra" for "Earth."  Once again, a
taunting clue that made Adama wonder just what kind of connection this
human civilization really had with the Thirteenth Tribe even if Terra
itself was clearly not the Earth they sought.  Or was there any
connection to be found? 
     Those were not questions he could ask Leiter about, though, and he
knew he had to push on.
     "You say you know we are from a destroyed civilization," Adama
decided Leiter's words had given him a new opening to use, "I would
assume you've been bright enough to learn just what kind of force was
responsible for our plight."
     "Yes, I have heard stories to the effect that you are currently
hunted by a race of machines," Leiter kept smirking, "Perhaps it is not
beyond the realm of possibility that they are a race that has evolved
according to the same grasp of what the Natural Order is.  If so, then
there is always the prospects of mutual alliance one day based on two
societies that have received such special insight.  But if your
destroyers don't understand that, and fail to recognize the benefits of
alliance with us, then they too shall ultimately be dispatched."
     What a naive fool you are, Adama thought.
     "Commandant," he said as he walked back toward the door and saw that
outside, Apollo and Starbuck had expressions of pure disgust.  "If you
truly believe your Alliance is capable of destroying the Galactica, or
for that matter is capable of destroying multiple ships of the enemy that
pursues us, you would need at the very least a thousand of your destroyer
type ships.  Do all of your bases throughout the Terran system consist of
that many?"
     "We have-," Leiter started and then abruptly stopped as he realized
what Adama had tried to trip him up into doing.  "I believe we have
nothing further to discuss now but the release of my ship and my crew."
     Adama said nothing, but then noticed that Reese had stepped in front
of Apollo and Starbuck.
     "Commander," he said respectfully, "A message from Sire Domra aboard
the Galactica, requesting your presence for an emergency meeting of the
Council."
     The Commander's brow furrowed slightly, "Inform Sire Domra that I
will return as soon as I have finished my interrogation of the prisoner."
     "With all due respect, sir," Reese kept his tone cautious, "Sire
Domra says that the Council has just voted unanimously to terminate all
further interrogations of the Alliance representatives immediately."  
     Starbuck finally hit his breaking point, "Since when does the
Council give orders to the Commander over a military matter?"
     Reese stopped being placid, "Look, Starbuck, I'm just a fracking
messenger boy.  I just do as I'm told."
     "Yeah, well I'm telling you to back off and let the Commander
finish."
     "Oh, anxious to pick another fight again like you did last sectan in
the Club, aren't you?" Reese's nostrils flared.
     "You asked for it because you were completely crocked on grog, you
lousy----,"
     "Enough!" Apollo stepped between them.  "Starbuck, shut up!"
     Thank you, Apollo, Adama said silently, not wanting to see another
scene of this type erupt in front of the prisoner.
     "Reese," The Commander said, "Tell Domra, I'm on my way back and
that we will convene in less than a centar."
     "Yes sir," Reese's voice immediately returned to normal as he turned
and walked away.
     Adama looked back at Leiter, who had clearly enjoyed every micron of
the scene.
     "This will continue later, Commandant," Adama said, "And I would
advise you to not think we are a people easily blinded to the reality of
what is.  Since you have told me of what the Alliance is responsible for
regarding your campaigns of mass murder and terror, I think you will find
that will settle all matters in short order regarding our view of what
course of action will ultimately be taken."
     "Your plight reminds me of the inefficiency of the Nationalists,
Commander," Leiter kept smirking, "The more I see of you, the more I am
convinced that whoever placed you in your present plight is someone the
Alliance would be most happy to join forces with, if the Natural Order so
dictates it one day."
     Adama said nothing more as he turned and departed.  Apollo and an
agitated Starbuck following him out.
     As they made their way down the corridor, they passed by Baltar's
cell.  The human traitor was at the front of it, clearly taking advantage
of the confined space to listen in...where all of the exchange between
Adama and Leiter could be heard quite clearly.
     He decided that the opportunity to issue a parting taunt was too
great to pass up.
     "Having problems, Adama?"
     As he expected there was no response as they passed him.  Baltar let
out a malevolent chuckle and for the first time since his captivity had
begun, actually felt good.
     Just then, Reese returned from relaying Adama's message by telecom
to the Galactica.  He made his way up to the traitor's cell and decided
he could at least get in a good shot at the man everyone in the Fleet
could despise.
     "Glad you're in a good mood, Baltar," the Security Officer said,
"You've got mess duty again."
     The smile faded from Baltar's face as Reese pressed open the cell
door to let him out.  
     This will be the last time, he vowed.


     As the shuttle made its way back to the Galactica, Adama found that
both Apollo and Starbuck were unwilling to keep their hostility toward
the Council bottled up.
     "Father, this time they've gone too far," Apollo said. 
"Interrogating prisoners who put the lives of warriors in danger as they
did is a military matter that wouldn't fall under the Council's
jurisdiction even if we weren't already under the Martial Law edict they
passed after Carillon!"
     "Theoretically, yes," Adama sighed, "I am beginning to suspect that
the Council has...without telling me, made a change to the existing
statutes."
     "They can't do that!" Starbuck protested, finding it difficult to
hold on to the shuttle controls because of his anger.
     "Reread the Charter of Governance, Starbuck, and reread the specific
language of the Martial Law edict," the Commander gently pointed out. 
"The Council ceded additional power to me by a three-quarters vote with
the stipulation they could reclaim such power through a similar vote.  If
I allow for the likelihood that only Sire Anton and Sire Antipas
dissented, then a nine to two vote to reclaim such authority would have
been more than sufficient, and thoroughly legal, even without my
presence."
     "If they did that, then they just proved their unfitness to govern,"
Starbuck felt like spitting.  "It means they're acting against you out of
pure spite, and willing to put the lives of everyone in this Fleet at
risk because of a petty quarrel."
     "Maybe that's true, Starbuck," Adama decided he wasn't going to
reproach the warrior in the privacy of the shuttle.  "But at the very
least, they are acting legitimately.  And if we are a society that still
has some meaning, and still stands for principles that justifies our
claim to have been on the just side of a just war in what we fought for a
thousand yahrens against the Cylons, then we can not so easily rail
against those procedures when they don't unfold according to our liking. 
Now it's one thing for you and Apollo to be angry over the fact that at
least nine members of the Council appear to have taken leave of their
senses over how to handle these Alliance prisoners, but one thing that
none of us can do, is ever question the system we operate under." he
paused, "Unless you're suggesting I should find a pretext to have the
Council disbanded?"
     There was an uneasy silence from both men.
     "I'm glad you're not suggesting that," Adama said, "I'd hate to
think that the two of you would let your admirable loyalty to me blind
you to the realities of what your oaths as warriors require you to do. 
After all," he paused, "You wouldn't want to find yourselves in the same
shoes Commander Cain's warriors put themselves in after I was forced to
relieve him of command."
     Apollo nodded in understanding.  And he also found himself thinking
for a brief instant about Sheba and understanding better why her sense of
loyalty to her father had led her to take that brief act of defiance
where she and the rest of the Pegasus warriors had confronted Apollo.
     "Commandant Leiter though, saved me the trouble of having to further
convince the Council that the Alliance indeed committed those atrocities
on Paradeen, and that you and Starbuck did not exaggerate or blind
yourselves when you wrote those details up."  Adama said, "So perhaps
when all is said and done, if the Council is choosing to act with more
power, they will at least be able to put petty squabbles of the past
behind them and accept the truth."
     "I wonder," Apollo said, "The way these people act, I just don't
have faith in them as individuals...even if I should keep having faith
in the system, as you point out."
     "We'll see," Adama relaxed in his chair.  "Let's just hope for
a...positive outcome."


     Performing mess duty meant that Baltar had to arrive in the Prison
Barge mess hall fifteen centons before meal period began.  He would then
receive the trays of unappetizing food from the kitchen staff, set them
up in an orderly row, and then would take his position and spend the next
half centar dispensing equal portions of food to all prisoners.  Only
then would he be allowed to have his own meal.  The duty meant receiving
one cubit, which could then be added to a prisoner's credit roll, which
he could over time build up to have luxury items from a restricted list
of available goods purchased.
     None of that mattered to Baltar, since there wasn't anything of
luxury in the Fleet that could ever have meaning to him.  If there was
any advantage to him that came from performing this demeaning function,
it only came from having the opportunity to size up each prisoner that
came before him to take their portions of food, and see if any of them
could be recruited by him for what he knew he had to eventually do.
     As the prisoners filed their way in front of him and he served them
their meals, he found himself looking each one in the eye, studying them
intently, and recalling what he'd learned of them through prison gossip. 
Almost all of them, he had to dismiss as viable candidates, since he knew
he still had to overcome the matter of their innate patriotism.
     He stiffened slightly as he saw the angry face of a tall man with
salt and pepper hair staring at him with his tray outstretched.  This was
one of the few men in the Prison Barge for whom patriotism held no
meaning, but who nonetheless presented a far greater obstacle to Baltar
in terms of the likelihood of recruiting him.  
     "Some day, Baltar," Charybdis whispered angrily as Baltar dished out
the food.  "Some day, you'll finally regret what you did.  Mark my
words."
     Baltar said nothing to his one-time operative.  The man he had once
recruited into his operation to act as his personal pilot.  And who on
the night of the Holocaust had served the dual task of first, sabotaging
the Colonial Defense Network computer system, and later safely flying
Baltar off the Atlantia before the attack had begun.
     But then, once they had returned to Piscera and found their home
colony destroyed, Charybdis had abandoned Baltar, eventually making his
way to the Fleet under a new identity.  But because a man named Ortega
had known who Charybdis really was, it had led to a desperate Charybdis
killing Ortega and then framing Starbuck for the crime.  Only to be
apprehended thanks to Apollo's investigative work, and Baltar's last
centon help when the traitor had decided that he couldn't take the risk
of Charybdis killing him, and preventing Baltar from being able to
identify Charybdis ever.
     Baltar knew Charybdis carried a deep grudge and hatred of him.  One
so great that it made Baltar realize that he could never realistically
expect Charybdis to willingly join him in an escape attempt.  Not unless
Baltar wanted to worry about when his one-time subordinate would want to
settle past accounts once and for all.
     He felt a measure of relief when Charybdis moved off and the next
group of prisoners stepped forward to receive their food.  And a smile
came over him as he realized that they were the ones who offered the best
prospects.
     Three Borellian Nomen named Maga, Bora and Taba.  All serving
sentences of twenty yahrens for two charges of attempted termination,
illegal stockpiling of stolen weaponry and maintenance parts, and a
conspiracy to incite mutiny aboard the freighter Borella, which housed
the entire population of refugees from their home planet Borallus.  Even
more humiliating for each of these men than their prison sentences was
the fact that the had been totally disowned by their race.  That left
them as men without a country in every sense of the word.  As Borellian
expatriates living in the Colonies at the time of the Destruction, who
had been permanently cut off from their home world when the Exodus had
begun, they held no instinctive loyalty to the Colonial Nation, and thus
would have none of the special hatred for Baltar that other prisoners
would have.  That made them the most ideal candidates for the traitor to
approach.  And of course, their skills as Nomen and their formidable
physique would also prove beneficial too.
     Baltar smiled as he opened another tray of food at the end of the
column.
     "Good evening gentlemen," he said, "Some Borellian Desert Layers for
you?  I saw to it that the Livestock ship would send in an additional
quota for this sectan, and since none of the other prisoners fancy
it...."  He then trailed off as he spooned their portions out.  
     The three Nomen made no response.  The young, beardless one named
Taba stared straight ahead with a seemingly blank expression.  The
thickly bearded visages of Bora and Maga were even more enigmatic.
     "Do you mind if I join you?" Baltar lowered his voice.  "We must
speak.  I do believe we can help each other."
     Again, there was no response as the three of them moved off and took
a private table at one side of the mess hall.  They could always count on
enjoying their meal in isolation since none of the rest of the prisoners
ever liked to mingle with the Nomen, part from fear over their skills,
and part from general racial distrust.
     Baltar sighed and then noticed that the new prisoners, the ones from
the so-called "Eastern Alliance" were the last to arrive.  He said
nothing to them, deciding that an approach to Leiter and his subordinates
could only come after he had taken care of other matters first.  The only
thing he took note of was how even as prisoners, they still kept an air
of rigid military discipline intact.
     With all of the prisoners served, he could now serve himself and
take his place.  Cautiously, he took his tray and went over to where the
three Nomen were seated.
     "Mind if I join you?" he asked pleasantly.  When there was still no
response, he decided he could press on.  
     "Thank you," he sat down and began to pick at his food.  "You of
course, know who I am."
     There was the faintest trace of a nod from Maga, but nothing else.
     "No matter," Baltar said, "I know of you.  And I know of how it is
repugnant to the soul of any Borellian Nomen that he find himself in any
state of confinement.  How much it defiles their sense of honor and
dignity, since death in the face of battle or a blood trail would be so
much preferable."  He lowered his voice, "Which is why it doesn't take
much for a sharp observer like me to know that you have been planning an
attempt to escape captivity since the micron you arrived here.  Is that
not so?"
     Maga's eyes narrowed slightly, which right away told Baltar that
what he was saying wasn't being ignored.  And that he had hit much too
close to home for them.
     "I also know why you haven't tried it," the traitor went on, "You
could break out of your cell, but what then?  Where to go?  Your fellow
Borellians have disowned you.  And you no longer have the stolen
resources and food you were hoping to use in your little plot to seize
power and have the Nomen population establish a new colony on an
uninhabited planet according to your Code system.  But even if you still
had those, how would you escape pursuit?  You have none of those
answers."
     Baltar leaned forward and smiled, "That's why you need me.  Because
I have those answers.  If you're interested."
     Suddenly, Maga broke the silence of the Nomen, "We are listening,
Baltar.  Continue."  His voice that constant, flat monotone
characteristic of all Borellians, regardless of which class they came
from.
     Baltar felt a wave of exhilaration go through him.  He had made the
key breakthrough and had his necessary recruits.
     "Those new prisoners who arrived in the last few cycles.  You
noticed them?  They come from a military alliance that in this quadrant
of the galaxy could be just as powerful as my Cylon friends are.  And at
some point, within a matter of centars, it is obvious they are going to
be transferred to the Galactica because Adama is under pressure to
release them."
     "How do you know this?" Maga asked, his voice indicating
contemptuous disdain.
     "I overheard a remarkable conversation between Adama and their
commanding officer.  Commandant Leiter, he is called.  It is quite
evident that when the shuttle arrives to transfer these men for their
presentation to the Council of Twelve, that will be the time for us to
act by making our break."
     "By doing what?" Maga remained unimpressed, "Taking the shuttle?  We
would then be pursued by the Vipers."
     "Oh I have a plan to deal with them," Baltar said reassuringly, "We
will have at minimum two Colonial Warriors as hostages, the shuttle
pilots, and Adama would not dare risk losing their lives.  They will be
our bargaining chips to insure our safe escape to wherever these Alliance
prisoners have their base of operations."
     "And then?" Bora spoke for the first time, "What would prevent the
Alliance from simply turning us back over to the Galactica as a way of
counter-bargaining to insure their own safety from an all out assault?"
     "Because the Alliance will find that I can be of great use to them,"
Baltar said, "First of all, should the forces of the Cylon Empire ever
reach this quadrant of space, then I can be their go-between and insure
good relations between the two forces.  But more importantly, from an
immediate standpoint, I have knowledge of how the Galactica functions in
every sense, and I also know the strengths and weaknesses of her
commander.  That makes me a valuable resource the Alliance can use in so
many ways, that they will have no choice but to treat me as a prince. 
And I would see to it they do likewise for those who have become my
followers."
     "We do not follow, Baltar," Maga leaned forward and said coldly.  
     "Oh, certainly not," the traitor said with hasty reassurance.  "The
proper term should be *allies*. *Comrades*.  All of us in this together. 
Agreed?"
     Maga nodded, "Agreed.  When the time comes to escape, we will send
the signal to you by...briefly choosing to die."
     "Die?" Baltar frowned, "What do you mean?"
     "We do many things to survive, Baltar," Maga said, "Including dying. 
There is much of the Borellian way and the Borellian Code that still
remains beyond the comprehension of you foolish Colonials."
     "Ah," Baltar nodded, "A deception.  I shall be prepared."  He then
rose and smiled, "It will be a pleasure to work with you...for our
mutual benefit."
     And then, the traitor turned and left them to finish their meal.

          Chapter Two

     The first thing Adama noticed when he entered the Council chamber
aboard the Galactica was that both Sire Anton and Sire Antipas were
absent from the room, just as they had been absent from the last Council
session.  That told him plenty.  Young Antipas, who had been appointed to
the Council to replace Sire Uri after the latter's resignation, had
throughout his tenure been playing things cautiously, neither
establishing himself as Adama's ally or opponent, but pragmatically
assessing where the winds of fortune were blowing.  If the young Libran
felt that the Council was about to do something foolish, then
disassociating himself from their actions would be the smart thing to do.
     By contrast, Sire Anton had been Adama's most dependable ally on the
Council ever since Carillon.  Anton alone had stood up to Count Iblis,
insisting on further demonstrations to prove his intentions, and more
recently the one-time aide to the late President Adar had done his best
to smooth things over, following the blow-up between Adama and the
Council over the Commander's unauthorized release of the Terran
spacecraft containing the two adults and four children.  If Anton wasn't
present, then that could only mean the rest of the Council was doing
something that offended him completely.  Which for Adama could only mean
trouble.
     Without saying a word, he took his seat in the President's chair,
tapped the ceremonial gavel and leaned forward.
     "The Council of Twelve is now in session," he said, "The Chair now
considers the floor open for discussion on matters deemed of importance
by the Council."
     "Mr. President."
     Adama glanced over at the man who had just risen, "Sire Domra."
     "Mr. President, on behalf of my brother members of the Council, it
is my privilege to inform you that we asked for this session to give you
some long overdue recognition."
     Adama leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow, but said
nothing.
     "The burden you were placed under following the greatest calamity in
human history.  The courage you demonstrated in organizing us, and
maintaining a last vestige of us as a people to undertake this hazardous
journey across the stars, and successfully elude the Cylon pursuit, is
something that must be acknowledged by all right thinking Colonials.  It
is because of this, that I am pleased to announce that by a unanimous
vote, the Council wishes to bestow upon you an honor last awarded
posthumously to our late brother member, Commander Fairfax, and which  no
living Colonist has received in a millennia.  The Star of Kobol."
     Domra began to applaud and the rest of the members joined in, rising
to their feet as one.  Adama found himself looking at each of their
faces.  Domra.  Geller.  Montrose.  Feo.  Siress Tinia.  Siress Lydia. 
The rest.  Wondering which of the nine were at that moment applauding out
of naivete, or out of total insincerity rooted in what he knew was an
underhanded power grab.
     Slowly, Adama got to his feet and took a careful breath to make sure
that his tone remained one of calm dignity.
     "I am deeply honored.  But...I must refuse."
     He then resumed his seat, while the rest of the Council looked at
him in a mixture of bewilderment and shock.
     "Adama," Domra said, "I don't think you quite understand what we're
doing."
     "Believe me, Sire Domra,  I understand completely." he looked about
the table.  "I think it is no great secret that matters between us in
recent days have been...shall we say, difficult.  The affair of last
sectan regarding the Terran ship and its disposition angered a good many
of you.  I have admitted that in certain respects, concerning your desire
to have questioned those people while they were in medical confinement in
the Life Station, I failed to properly acknowledge your good intentions
and instead implied that some of you were acting in a thoughtless and
callous fashion.  But it seems evident to me, that many of you are still
allowing your anger over that affair to impair your judgment to approach
the rest of this situation concerning matters of the Eastern Alliance
prisoners, based on your curious refusal to accept the accuracy of
Captain Apollo's report, and your even more curious message informing me
that I was to no longer continue with lawful interrogation of a prisoner. 
When I then return to find that you have suddenly then chosen to bestow a
high award on me after undertaking these other actions, then I believe I
am quite capable of understanding matters completely."
     The Commander then leaned forward and brought his hands together,
"So instead of wasting our time discussing matters of awards and praise,
it might be better if I, as President of the Council, be enlightened as
to why an action was taken to interfere with my duly legal authority as
military commander in the interrogation of Commandant Leiter."
     The silence lasted for several microns with heads darting about
nervously to see who would speak first. 
     Siress Tinia decided to take the initiative, "Adama," the elegant
woman's tone was gentle, "Our vote was based on our legitimate concern
that at a time when we must exercise the greatest of caution concerning
just what lies at the heart of this Terran civilization, you have acted
in an impulsive manner toward the treatment of these Alliance
representatives.  One that could damage our ability to make contact with
what could be the Thirteenth Tribe itself."
     "Siress Tinia," Adama's voice grew cold, "You have seen the report. 
This Eastern Alliance was responsible for a massacre of epic proportions
on the planet Paradeen.  In the brief time that I was able to talk with
Commandant Leiter, he not only admitted the Alliance's responsibility for
this genocide, he was proud of the fact.  Perhaps you can explain to me
just why it is somehow 'impulsive' to treat a potential threat to our own
military security by procedures that were strictly according to the
book?"
     "Threat, Adama?" Sire Geller scoffed, "I think you exaggerate! 
These representatives come from a craft small enough to fit in our
landing bay.  Where is the threat to our well-being from one of their
ships?"
     "The matter of their total strength is what we don't know, Sire
Geller, and when we have the known variable of their act of genocide, I
would like to think that speaks for itself."  Adama shot back.
     "An act of genocide, by your definition, Adama," Domra cut in, "How
are we in any position to judge the nature of whatever war is taking
place amongst different factions of this Terran civilization?  Perhaps
the destruction of this city on this planet Paradeen was rooted in some
defensive action because of the threat posed to this Alliance faction. 
Perhaps it is this other faction, the so-called 'Nationalists' who
represent the more hostile force?"
     "What evidence do you cite to form that conclusion?"  Adama was
finding it frustrating that he was clearly a lonely voice at these
proceedings.  At the very least, had Anton been present he knew his ally
would be offering some much needed support.
     "The evidence of my own eyes, Adama," Domra shot back.  "Was it not
representatives of the Nationalists, the people in that spacecraft you
released, who actually opened fire on a Council security guard without
provocation?  And yet instead of treating them as a potential threat, you
had them released without authorization!"
     "Clearly Adama, you have allowed the report of your son to unduly
influence you," Tinia added.  "Obviously some kind of friendly bonding
took place between your son and those people that rendered Captain Apollo
and Lieutenant Starbuck from fairly assessing the situation.  Perhaps
what was really needed was the good-sense caution to greet the Alliance
representatives in the same spirit instead of with drawn laser pistols."
     "That's it!"an angry voice from the back of the room suddenly
thundered and all the heads turned around to see Apollo enter the room,
seething.  Starbuck was behind him, grabbing at his friend's sleeve with
an uneasy expression, indicating that the blonde warrior had tried to
stop the captain from moving forward.  "I've heard enough of this
felgercarb!"
     "Captain Apollo, you do not have the right to be in this chamber!"
Sire Montrose rose indignantly, "You offend the dignity of these
proceedings!"
     "And what I'm hearing is an offense to the dignity of common
decency!" Apollo came up behind his father's chair, "I want the record to
note that I am speaking for myself and without Commander Adama's
authorization.  But I also want the Council to note that in the past I
have been granted the privilege of speaking before this body, as the
records of the proceedings concerning our approach to Carillon through
the Nova Madagon will demonstrate, so I am on firm legal ground to have
my voice heard!"
     Montrose blinked slightly as he recalled the incident.  He then
slowly nodded and resumed his seat.
     "Captain Apollo," Adama said quietly, "If you wish to exercise your
legal privilege to have your voice heard, then it will be done in a
manner befitting the dignity of this body.  Anything less will result in
disciplinary action of a severe nature.  Is this understood?"
     "Perfectly, sir," Apollo nodded and then glared at Tinia, "For the
record, Siress Tinia, the reason why those Alliance representatives were
greeted with laser pistols was because they were in the act of physically
assaulting an innocent man and woman, and four innocent children.  Would
you have expected any warrior to stand aside and allow torture techniques
reminiscent of the Cylon handbook to be inflicted on innocent humans?"
     "Innocent humans, Captain?" Tinia was unimpressed, "You heard Sire
Domra recall the incident where those 'innocent humans' as you call them,
assaulted a Council Security Officer without provocation.  How can we
judge which side has cleaner hands ultimately?"
     "Precisely!" Geller interjected.  "And your own report reveals that
the reason for why they interrogated this not-so-innocent family was to
find out what they knew about a spy and saboteur on Luna Seven who helped
them escape by the name of...." he picked up a copy of the report and
glanced at the relevant passage, "Watts.  Now what kind of atrocities is
this Watts who helped these people escape potentially guilty of?  *Those*
are the things we need answers to, if we are to make a fair judgment of
the entire situation as it exists on Terra, Captain.  We can not apply
overly simplistic answers to potentially complex problems."
     "Sometimes a simple answer can be the correct one," Apollo was still
filled with rage, "Especially if one has the common sense to recognize
that."
     And then, without saying anything else, he turned and stormed out
with an uneasy Starbuck trailing him.
     "You see why it's impossible to trust the accuracy of his report,
Adama?" Domra scoffed, "It reflects the narrow perspective of a military
mind with no regard for the difficult questions that only those with a
keen insight into politics can appreciate."
     "And that is why common sense, Adama, dictates that you release
these Alliance people immediately and treat them with some simple respect
in the hopes of reaching a negotiated understanding."  Tinia put in.
     "What kind of understanding are we talking about?" Adama said
sourly, understanding completely why his son had lost his temper, and
knowing he would have done the same if he were a younger man.  "Deciding
ahead of time that their side represents the correct side in this
struggle?"
     "No one is saying that, Adama," Geller sounded exasperated, "We're
just asking for a more prudent course in making our final decision."
     "Adama, it is most disappointing that you chose to take our
good-faith attempt to honor you, and turned the proceedings into a
spectacle of needless animosity between ourselves and you." Domra's tone
became one of sadness, "And also toward Captain Apollo, whose courage as
a warrior none of us would ever hesitate to question."
     "Very well," Adama glared at him, "Then enlighten me as to what
other motions were passed in my absence besides honoring me.  And perhaps
you could enlighten me further as to why Sire Anton and Sire Antipas are
not present at this session, or the last one."
     Tinia's expression darkened, indicating that she had reached a
breaking point of her own.
     "Adama," her voice was cold, "You have been blunt.  So I shall be
blunt as well.  We have voted to revoke the Martial Law edict passed in
the wake of the Carillon incident, as is our prerogative under the
language of that edict and under the Charter of Governance.  From this
centon forward, we are reverting to Council control of the Fleet."
     "And the final tally was?" Adama coldly interjected.
     Tinia took a breath to keep from exploding, "Sires Anton and Antipas
dissented in the vote.  If you wish to know their reasons for doing so,
you may ask them."
     "Why are they not here?" Adama refused to let go.
     "Since it matters so much to you," Tinia matched his tone.  "They
are at this time refusing to attend any meetings of the Council in
protest of our vote.  That is their prerogative to do so.  It is our hope
that in due time, and perhaps with your encouragement as well in
accepting this decision, that they will soon return."
     "Regardless of their feelings, the decision is final," Domra added. 
"Adama, we had actually hoped not to have to invoke our prerogative to
resume Council control of the Fleet, but sadly, your conduct beginning
with the incident of last sectan, and your appalling treatment of the
Alliance representatives has left us with no choice, as we feel you have
jeopardized our ability to make contact with the Thirteenth Tribe that
you decided we had to fly across the stars and locate."
     "Naturally, you will retain your vote on the Council, and your
status as President of the Council, in addition to command of the
Galactica.  However----,"
     "Yes?" Adama's tone was sharp.
     "You will have a civilian member of the Council present at all
times, to insure that Council edicts are carried out."  She paused, "We
regret the necessity of that, Adama, but in light of Commander Cain's
disregard for the chain of command on two occasions during the time when
he was among us...you recognize the prudence of it."
     Adama rose and glared at her, and then the rest of the members one
by one.
     "I respect the fact that the manner in which you have acted is
consistent with the principles of Colonial jurisprudence."  He said, "But
for me to continue as President of the Council of Twelve under these
conditions would be the equivalent of a farce.  Accordingly, I hereby
tender my resignation as President of the Council and declare the office
open."
     "We reject your resignation from the post, Adama," Tinia retorted. 
"Which is our prerogative to do as well, as you know.  Are we all not in
agreement on this?" she looked about the table.  A unified chorus of
"hear-hears" and "yes's" went up.
     "Adama," the siress went on, "There is bad feeling amongst us, but
we wish for the recriminations to end.  Accept this new arrangement as a
new beginning for us.  One in which we can view the restoration of
civilian authority as part of a bright step forward in the history of our
journey that you helped inspire us to take.  That is why we wish you to
remain as President."
     Adama took a breath and softened his tone, "Who is to be my
'civilian aide'?"
     "I have volunteered for that task, and been approved by my brother
members," Tinia's tone grew more friendly.  "Should you find me less than
satisfactory in the position, you have the prerogative to dismiss me and
choose another member from our ranks."
     The Commander at this point felt a sense of being totally drained.
     "Very well," for the first time since the beginning of the session,
his voice was calm and relaxed.  "We seem to have discussed all matters
as thoroughly as could be done.  I see little reason to carry discussion
further when...much work is to be done."
     He absently picked up his almost-forgotten gavel and rapped it as
hard as he could against the table.
     "The Council of Twelve stands adjourned."


     Apollo and Starbuck had watched the rest of the proceeding from the
far side of the room. As soon as they were in the corridor, Starbuck, who
had not been keen on Apollo making a public scene, exploded.
     "Commander, you should have told them to stuff their procedures! 
This is endangering our security as a whole."
     Adama stopped and glared at them, "Will you listen to yourself,
Starbuck?  After what we went over in the shuttle?  Maybe, they're right. 
Maybe Martial Law has gone on too long if I have to worry about my best
warriors thinking I should have no regard for the civilian authority in
due process."
     "Father," Apollo said, "When bad judgment manipulates a good system
to ends that can result in our destruction, that's another thing
entirely.  Hell, Baltar operated in the system when he presented that
phony peace offering to a duly elected Council.  Doesn't that experience
alone tell us how we can't let timid respect for the system be our guide
to things when survival is at stake for all of us."
     "I concede the point," Adama said harshly, "But despite their
stupidity, we have not yet reached a stage where I can point to something
of a concrete nature to give them as to what this Alliance represents. 
Perhaps once they see Commandant Leiter himself and hear him repeat those
posturings about the 'Natural Order' it'll finally shock them back to
reality.  That drivel of his was something that could easily have been
written by the Imperious Leader."
     "Come off it, Father," Apollo said as they reached the turbo lift
that would take them a level up to Adama's quarters.  "Leiter's no dummy. 
If he's smart enough to realize what you're facing with the Council, he's
going to just turn on the charm act when he's dealing with them.  And
then Domra or whoever will talk of how you grossly exaggerated the nature
of what he told you."
     "I'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Apollo," Adama said. 
"In the meantime, I have to get in touch with Sire Anton and learn some
more about what happened at that meeting when they passed that
resolution.  For now...the two of you just relax and wait until you're
needed."
     Adama stepped on the turbo lift alone, and as soon as it was gone,
an exasperated Apollo sighed and turned back to his friend.  "I get the
feeling that's going to be sooner than we realize."
     

     As soon as Adama arrived in his quarters, he found that he didn't
have to summon Sire Anton.  The one-time presidential aide was already
there, a look of sad regret on his face.
     "As soon as I was informed there was to be another meeting to
ostensibly 'honor' you, I knew they were going to finally tell you what
they did recently concerning the Martial Law edict."  Anton said, "Adama,
I am truly sorry.  I argued my best before them and used language that I
seldom to never use in all my yahrens of service as a public figure, but
it was to no avail."
     "I admire your efforts in the face of such great opposition, Sire
Anton," Adama said with genuine regard as he sat behind his desk.  "And
young Antipas?"
     "Young Antipas, I suspect, is less moved by the moral and ethical
arguments against what they've done, and more concerned by the long-term
ramifications of this action of theirs backfiring on them."
     "He's convinced it can backfire on them, nonetheless."
     "Naturally," Anton conceded, "A person with a clear head could
immediately realize that Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck did not
exaggerate, nor were they blinded.  When you come across a group of men
who have an act of murder and genocide that can't be explained in any
context, even that of a just war, you can only be dealing with potential
trouble."
     "Indeed," Adama nodded, "So what options then do you and I, and
young Antipas for that matter, have?"
     "Very little unless you propose that the three of us take action to
declare our nine brother members unfit to continue serving on the Council
and appeal to the population for immediate election of new members.  A
return to total civilian authority does carry with it, the matter of
routine election of members answerable to the people."
     "It does appear to be our only legal recourse under the Charter of
Governance," the Commander admitted, "Still...I'm reluctant to have us
move too quickly in making an open call to the public on this point."
     "When would the time be right?" Anton asked, "Adama, as soon as you
give the word, I am prepared to go immediately to Zara and have my
sentiments on what has happened in recent days broadcast to all corners
of the Fleet."
     "Nothing's to stop you from doing so right now, Sire Anton.  If you
choose to do so at this time though, I would only ask that you make it
clear you are speaking for yourself and that you and I have not yet
decided on any new courses of action to undertake in the future."
     Anton rose and nodded , "Very well, Adama.  I'm willing to do that. 
You should find me on the IFB within a centar or two stating my feelings
on the matter, now that the Council will have to admit to the public as a
whole what our new procedures are."
     "I will look forward to that," Adama paused and then smiled thinly,
"Thank you for your support, Anton.  You are a man of deep principle and
integrity."
     Anton let out a hearty chuckle, "Adama, if I act more wisely in my
advancing yahrens, it's because I've had an ability to more easily grasp
the flaws in leadership that so routinely manifest themselves in too many
of our civilian leaders."  He paused, "The one regret I have in my role
in passing the original Martial Law edict, is that I had to give in to
the stipulation that Commander Fairfax would be replaced by a civilian
member of the population on the Council, after his untimely death at
Carillon.  Respect for the Charter should have allowed a second member of
the military to continue on the body as was always the case."
     "What's past is past, Anton," Adama said simply, "Let's hope the
future is ultimately not so rough a path for us."


     When Baltar finished with the final clean-up of the mess hall, he
made his way back to toward the detention block, where a guard would
escort him back to his cell.  But before he reached the doorway that
would take him there, he saw that one prisoner still remained. 
Charybdis.  His arms folded and his expression glowering as he blocked
the traitor's path.
     "You'd best let me pass, Charybdis," Baltar said gently.  "The
guards don't like it when we linger too long."
     "I'm only lingering long enough to tell you this, Baltar," his
one-time pilot said coldly, "Consider yourself on notice.  Somehow,
someday, I will kill you.  You can count on that.  I'm already in here
for life for murdering Ortega, so it doesn't matter to me if I can
finally settle my debt with you."
     Baltar was unfazed, "You would have killed me aboard that shuttle,
Charybdis, and you know it."
     "You'll never know that, will you, Baltar?" he smirked, "But at the
very least, you will know that you'll die at my hand one day.  And
seeking the Nomen as would-be bodyguards for you won't help."
     "Charybdis," Baltar said gently, "There are things more advantageous
to you then seeking some misguided revenge on me that would ultimately
benefit you nothing."
     "I doubt that, Baltar," he kept his tone coldly.  "As to when I
carry this out, that will be my secret.  But don't worry, I can be
patient, seeing as I have all the time in the Universe that I need."
     He then turned and disappeared in the doorway leading back to the
detention block where the guards were waiting to motion him back into his
cell.  As Baltar tentatively followed and noticed the Nomen standing in
the corridor, waiting to be placed back in their own cells, he nodded at
them.  A brief nod from Maga indicated that they were ready to go.
     Many variables were playing a part in the ability of this plan to
succeed.  He had to hope that not one of them would be disrupted, or else
the plan would be doomed to fail before it even began.  And right now,
the fact that both he and the three Nomen were still outside their cells
meant the time to move was right now.
     "Okay," Reese motioned to the three Nomen, "All of you back inside,
now."
     Abruptly, Taba collapsed to the floor in a motionless heap.  
     "What the frack?" Reese blurted in shock, "What's happened to him?"
     Without saying anything, Bora collapsed to the floor as well.  Reese
pulled out his pistol, as did the two other Security Officers in the
detention block.
     "Back in your cells now!" Reese barked.  Somewhat tentatively,
Baltar stepped back in his cell where the door closed in front of him. 
The Security Officer pointed his pistol at Maga, but before he could say
anything, the lead Maga had also collapsed to the floor, lying motionless
like the other two.
     "What's going on?" a bearded security guard asked as he kept his own
pistol raised.
     "I don't know," Reese shook his head in bewilderment as he knelt
down in front of Maga and touched the Nomen's neck.  His eyes then
widened in shock, "Frack, I don't believe this.  He's dead!  No pulse!"
     He moved over to Bora's limp form and felt his neck.  There was
nothing.
     "Jakes, check that other one!" he angrily waved at the bearded guard
who was at the other end of the corridor and closer to Taba.  Jakes knelt
down and the disbelievingly shook his head.
     "Okay, what do we do?" this from Officer Ralls, who was motioning
Charybdis back into his cell.  
     "What do you think?" Reese snapped, "Get a med-tech down here, fast! 
Breathing gear, heart stimulator, the works!"
     Ralls nodded and headed toward the telecom unit at the other end of
the corridor.  But no sooner had he stepped toward it, when suddenly all
three Nomen sprung to their feet and began their physical assault on the
three surprised guards.  Bora slammed Reese against the wall, knocking
him unconscious, while Taba did likewise with Jakes.  At the other end,
Maga shoved Charybdis aside and managed to grab the stunned Ralls by the
arm, who immediately dropped his laser pistol to the floor.  A sharp blow
to the back then left the last of the guards in the detention block
unconscious along with the rest of his colleagues.
     "Good Lord," Baltar whispered in awed amazement.  He had read much
of Borellian Nomen and their unique talents, but this exceeded anything
he was aware of.
     Maga grabbed the security card from the unconscious Ralls and
inserted it in the lock of Baltar's cell door.  "Our captivity has slowed
our reflexes.  They will improve now that they are free."
     As Baltar stepped out in the corridor he glanced over at a stunned
Charybdis, who was still standing outside his cell door.
     "Baltar, what are you doing?" his one-time subordinate asked in
bewilderment.
     "What's it to you, Charybdis?" the traitor scoffed.  "After all, you
were thinking of having me killed one day.  Would you care to take a
chance on that right now?"
     "I----," he started and then shook his head, "Baltar, if you'll let
me join you..."
     "Very well.  Perhaps you can still be as useful to me now, as you
were once before."  He glanced at Maga, "The more we have on our side,
the better."
     "Agreed," Maga chose not to dissent.  
     "Now the business of freeing those Alliance prisoners and letting
them know how they can successfully escape."
     The five of them made their way to the end of the complex, where the
holding cells of Leiter and his crew awaited them.  


     Aboard the Galactica bridge, Athena could feel a distinct chill in
the air caused by an unwelcome presence.  The presence of Siress Tinia
standing on the command level with her father and Colonel Tigh, ready to
act as a de facto co-commander for all intents and purposes.  The more
Athena noticed her, the more she wondered how long it would be before she
found herself exploding with anger over seeing her father humiliated in
this fashion.  Even in an orderly civilian government system, councillors
and bureuticians were always supposed to know their proper places, and
the command deck of a battlestar wasn't one of them.
     But as Adama had gently told her just centons ago when he had taken
her aside to tell her of this new arrangement, as a warrior she had to do
her job and nothing else, no matter how much she was personally bothered
by the turn of events.  That was to be expected of her, and the last
thing Athena intended to do was let her father down.
     And so, Athena had done just that.  Getting back to work and
monitoring new incoming traffic for her to relay.
     "Commander," she reported, "The Council requests a shuttle to
transfer the prisoners from the barge to the Galactica."
     "Granted," Adama said and then turned to Tigh, "Colonel, select two
warriors to act as shuttle pilots, and two members of Colonial Security
to act as escorts."
     "Yes sir," Tigh turned and prepared to leave.
     "Just a micron, Colonel," Tinia motioned him to stop.  "Adama, I
don't see the need for a military escort."
     "No need?" Tigh found it hard not to screw his face in disbelief,
"With all due respect-,"
     "Tigh," Adama cut him off and stepped in, determined to take charge
on this point, "Siress Tinia, this is still a military matter.  I can not
allow prisoners aboard a military ship without proper precaution."
     "Granted," Tinia said, "But Council Security will be quite
sufficient."
     "Siress Tinia, may I remind you of the statute, that Colonial
Security exists for the function of handling all matters of security
aboard a military vessel.  Council Security's jurisdiction is confined to
civilian ships only.  That is how things operate even in time of peace."
     "I am aware of the statute, Commander," Tinia held her ground, "And
were they being transported for meeting with you or anyone else in
military authority, you would be in your rights to have Colonial Security
handle the matter.  But since these Alliance representatives are being
brought over at the Council's behest for interviewing with the Council
members, then this is a civilian, not military matter."
     Adama had to admit that he was beaten on that point.  "Very well,"
he said, trying to maintain a dignified bearing.  "Two Council Security
officers, then.  But the shuttle will be flown by trained warrior pilots. 
Colonel, inform Lieutenants Boomer and Sheba, that they will handle the
responsibility."
     "Yes sir," Tigh's voice had an acerbic edge as he moved down to the
lower level.  As he descended the steps and passed Athena's station, he
said under his breath but loud enough for the commander's daughter to
hear, "Council Security couldn't prevent an escape from the Orphan's
Ship."
     "Amen," Athena whispered in agreement as she kept looking ahead at
her console.
     Oblivious to the exchange, Tinia made her way over to the commander,
"Thank you, Adama," her voice was conciliatory, "I really don't intend to
be a burden.  I would like for the situation to be as pleasant as
possible."
     Adama's only response was a silent, curt nod, before he turned away
from her.  And for Tinia it was a silence that spoke heavy volumes.
     Adama, try to understand that there was no other way, Tinia found
herself saying inside.  We should have been working together, you and all
of us on the Council from the start.  Just give it a chance.
     Even so, Tinia had to admit one thing that she didn't dare express
aloud at this point.  If what Adama had said regarding the nature of the
Alliance prisoners did ultimately turn out to be true, there would be
proverbial Hades to pay. 


     Below, in the Council chamber, the remaining eight members of the
Council had come together to discuss the newest development.
     "The shuttle with the Alliance representatives will be here within a
centar or so," Domra said, "I believe it is important that we all
formulate the tone of our welcoming reception for them, as well as what
questions we should pose to them.  Bearing in mind that a spirit of
complete tact and diplomacy is what's needed."
     Just then, the bejeweled arm of an elegantly beautiful auburn haired
woman tentatively went up.
     "Yes, Siress Lydia?" Domra was surprised to see this member of the
Council ask for recognition, since she had always been known for her
total reticence at the meetings.
     "Domra," she said haltingly, and then nodded awkwardly to the other
members, "If it's all right, I'd rather beg off from taking part in this
reception.  The...issues are of such complexity, that I believe it's
best that more experienced members in these realms take part instead."
     "The greater our numbers that are present, the greater we can leave
a positive impression on these men, Siress Lydia," Geller said with
obvious flattery, "And I think I speak for all of us, that your presence
carries rewards and dividends that go beyond any ability to ask mere
questions."
     "I appreciate that, Sire Geller, but...insomuch as there are others
who will not be present, I see little reason in making this mandatory on
all the rest of us."
     Domra pursed his lips slightly.  Lydia had been the quintessential
aristocrat all her life, for whom a seat on the Council or any other
involvement in politics had been done only for social status.  She
certainly had no skill when it came to exercising leadership, which
accounted for her tactiturness at all of the meetings.  For Lydia,
Council meetings were a dull diversion from her preferred pastimes of
indulging in her private luxuries aboard the Rising Star, which she was
clearly anxious to get back to.
     "Siress Lydia, we would not think of detaining you needlessly,"
Domra finally spoke.  "In fact, if there be any of us here, who would
prefer not to take part in the proceedings, they are free to be excused
from them."
     "Thank you," Lydia said with relief, "I wish my brother members all
the best and success in this endeavor."
     As soon as the attractive siress had left the room, Domra's
expression hardened somewhat.
     "While the offer for anyone else to leave still stands, I would note
that it would not do if anything less than a quorum were present at the
meeting with these Alliance representatives.  With Siress Lydia's
departure, the boycotts of our brothers Antipas and Anton, and with
Siress Tinia acting as our liaison to Adama, that leaves but seven of us,
the bare minimum of a quorum.  Shall we at least be agreed that we seven
will meet these representatives, and not necessitate a needless
recruitment of one other member?"
     There was no response from any of them but silent nods of agreement.
     "Good, then let us now go over the questions that all of you feel
should be discussed once the interview begins."


     "Step out, Commandant Leiter, you and your men are making good your
escape."
     Leiter stared dubiously at Baltar.  "Who are you?"
     "A friend," the traitor said disarmingly, "One whose help you need."
     "I'm not so sure," Leiter said.  "I welcome any opportunity to see
myself and my men freed, but I am not convinced that I need to resort to
this rash a measure, in light of the obvious difficulty Adama is having
when it comes to convincing his government that I should be treated this
way."
     "I wouldn't count on the mercies of our Council of Twelve to bail
you out, Commandant," Baltar's tone remained friendly but now grew blunt. 
"I know Adama, and he is quite used to seeing to it that his will is done
ultimately.  You can be assured that if Adama is against you, he will see
to it that his will shall be worked toward you.  So that means it will
save you and your men considerable time to join my comrades and me, right
now."
     The traitor then inserted the security card in Leiter's cell-door,
and it slid open.
     "In that case, how can I refuse?" the Enforcer smirked as he stepped
out.  He could see Charybdis doing the same at the other cell-doors where
Leiter's four man crew were housed.
     "I'm glad you see it that way, Commandant," Baltar smiled and placed
a friendly arm about his shoulder.  "Now if you and your men will follow
us to the storage depot on this level, you will find your confiscated
possessions waiting for you."
     They moved into the next room, which was unguarded since all of the
guards for this level had been rendered unconscious.  Leiter and his
four-man crew immediately found their helmets and weapons, while the
three Nomen located their heavy brown robes and their laser boles and
immediately donned them.
     "I'm amazed they don't see fit to have these things destroyed once a
prisoner is incarcerated," Leiter said with amazement as he put his hat
on.  "Is this society that inefficient?"
     "It's filled with its many weaknesses," Baltar said, "I can be your
guide to revealing what the other weaknesses are, which you should find
most illuminating."
     "Since you've gone to the trouble of having us freed, perhaps you
can explain where we go from here."
     "Yes," Charybdis spoke up, since this was something he was anxious
to find out.
     "Quite simple," Baltar smiled.  "We destroy the communications
center of this ship, located one level above, and then we commandeer the
next shuttle that arrives here.  Hopefully if luck is with us, it will be
the one that the Council will have sent over to receive you."
     "And then?" Leiter pressed.
     "And then, a little trip to the Galactica."
     "The Galactica?" the Enforcer frowned.  "Surely, you would provide
us with transport back to our homeland.  To our nearest base, Lunar
Seven."
     "In due time, I will be happy to lead you back to your homeland,
Commandant, but not until I have settled some old debts...and in the
process, strengthened our bargaining position."
     "I am not interested in any old debts of yours...whoever you are."
     "My name is Baltar," he said coldly, "I suggest you remember that
from now on, Commandant.  And I would point out, that a shuttle can not
elude the pursuit of any fighter craft sent out by Adama, not to mention
the fact that a shuttle is quite unarmed.  The only way you stand a
chance of getting back to your homeland is to either incapacitate the
Galactica, or at the very least take as many hostages as we can.  With
only two hostages guaranteed on this arriving shuttle, that may be too
small for us to have necessary leverage.  And leverage is something you
will need plenty of, Commandant, if you truly believe you stand a
fighting chance of overcoming the threat the Galactica poses to your
entire civilization."
     Leiter found himself nodding.
     "Krebs," he called to his second-in-command, "Do exactly as this man
says....For now."
     There was only a satisfied grin from Baltar as he motioned them
towards the turbo lift that would take them to the Prison Barge's
communications center.

          Chapter Three

     As the leader and deputy leader respectively of Red Squadron, Boomer
and Sheba had found themselves in the Flight Operations center charting
out the roster of when the junior pilots in their squadron would be
taking their next sets of deep patrol assignments.  A telecom to the
Operations Center from Colonel Tigh though, had brought that planning
session to an end, and forced them to head over to Alpha Bay, where a
shuttle awaited them.
     "I guess it's a good indicator of how things have quieted down that
they can have us do this kind of a mundane assignment, now," Boomer said
as they stepped off the turbo lift.
     "No way," Sheba shook her head, "If we get picked for handling a
shuttle flight to the Prison Barge and back, that means its anything but
mundane."
     They stepped into the shuttle, and both stopped when they saw two
black-suited Council Security officials standing there with smug
expressions on their faces.  Boomer recognized the younger of the two as
Valeri, a wash-out from Warrior training several sectars ago, and someone
who'd always had a bit of an attitude problem even before he'd become a
blackshirt.  The older one was Husker, a career lifer in the Council
Security unit, whom Boomer was convinced was largely responsible for the
bad habits so many younger members of the division seemed to adopt.  If
one of their senior members was no good, how could any of the younger
members hope to be an improvement?
     "Afternoon, gentlemen," Boomer kept his tone nonchalant as he and
Sheba seated themselves in the pilot seats.  "Guess you're here to handle
transport of a couple petty thieves?"
     "Joke's on you, Boomer," Husker said smugly,   "We're going to be
escorting those Alliance representatives back here for their meeting with
the Council."
     "Ah," Boomer said as he and Sheba placed their headsets on.  "I
guess they found they had to be real docile or else they wouldn't have
sent you guys in."
     Valeri stepped forward and grabbed the back of Boomer's chair, "Get
this straight, Boomer-,"
     "Later boys, got to let me clear us for takeoff," Boomer said
nonchalantly as he keyed in the Bridge, "Core Command, this is Alpha
Shuttle, requesting clearance for immediate takeoff for Prison Barge."
     "Alpha Shuttle, cleared to launch," Athena's voice replied.
     "Thank you," Boomer hit the switch that fired the engines, "Better
sit down, fellows.  Wouldn't want to make you guys stumble and bruise
those shiny uniforms of yours."
     "Just watch it, Boomer," Husker warned, "We're the ones calling the
shots on this, and don't you forget it."
     As soon as the shuttle was away and headed for the Prison Barge,
both Boomer and Sheba became aware that the two Council Security officers
had left their seats and were again hovering behind them.
     Frack, why can't those goons just do their job and stop with the
high and mighty?  Boomer thought.  I could learn to live with those guys
if they'd just get it through their heads that our jobs are different. 
They think they're somehow our superior because they've got the right to
carry weapons, but they're not military.  What a bunch of arrogant
snitrads.
     "Okay, Boomer," Valeri said as he leaned against the back of Sheba's
co-pilot chair, looking over her shoulder and making her feel very
ill-at-ease.  "Let's take this from the top again, since you weren't
anxious to hear the rundown before.  When we land, you two are to stay in
the cockpit.  Council orders."
     "Yeah, yeah," Boomer said with clear disdain.  "I imagine the two of
you are going to regale us with a lot of 'Council orders' on this trip,
right?"
     "That's the way of things from now on, Boomer," Husker said with a
deliberate mocking tone.  "With Council authority restored to the Fleet,
you're going to have to learn to deal with it, when it comes to
respecting our prerogatives.  And theirs."
     "I'm sure," Boomer didn't let up, "Next thing you know, you guys
will be telling me I need to fill out a permit form with the Council to
use any turboflush on a civilian ship."
     Sheba found herself smiling, and decided that Boomer didn't need any
help from her in parrying their barbs.  Not yet at least.
     "Look at it this way, Boomer," Valeri said, "In light of what
Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck did, the Council merely thinks it
prudent that no new confrontation break out with those Alliance
representatives."
     "In light of what they did?" Sheba suddenly decided that she wasn't
going to take listening to that, "Why don't you get it through your heads
that they reacted the way any normal warrior would when confronted with a
bunch of thugs trying to murder innocent civilians?"
     "Warriors can be known to jump to impulsive conclusions some time,"
Valeri scoffed, "That always seems to be encouraged of them right from
the instant they sign up."
     "All right, that did it!" Boomer snapped.  The last thing he needed
to hear was a wash-out like Valeri giving an arrogant take on what
warriors went through when they signed up.  It was time to give Valeri
and Husker both some reminders of what their kind would never be cut out
for.
     Abruptly, he shut off the controls to the shuttle, and the craft
suddenly pitched violently downward, throwing both of the Security
officials back toward the rear of the shuttle.
     "Okay guys," Boomer said nonchalantly as the shuttle continued to
pitch downward on an out-of-control trajectory, "If you think you're so
high and mighty, then you can just start learning to fly this baby
yourself.  That is, if your wonderful Council Security training taught
you how to do it!"
     "Boomer, come on!" Valeri protested angrily, "Sheba, take the
controls----,"
     "Sorry," Sheba said sweetly, "But Boomer is my superior in the Red
Squadron chain of command, and I always follow orders."
     "Oh for sagan's sake----," Husker struggled back to a standing
position, "Boomer, okay, you've made your fracking point.  Stop fooling
around."
     Boomer kept his arms folded though, not moving toward the controls.
     "Frack, what do you want, an engraved apology?  All right, we acted
out of line and we're sorry.  Now damn it, get this thing under control!"
     Valeri shot his senior officer a pained glance, indicating that he
didn't want to see that kind of capitulation, but Husker was vigorously
shaking his head.
     "Shall we?" Boomer glanced over at Sheba.
     "Why not?" she grinned.
     The dark-skinned lieutenant took the control that immediately
brought the shuttle back to a level heading.  
     "Okay guys," he said, "I suggest you strap yourselves in, because
you never know if the landing might get a little...rough."
     "You wouldn't," Sheba whispered mischievously.
     "Maybe," he matched it.  "We'll see if they stay well-behaved."
     Boomer glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Valeri and Husker
had both strapped themselves in.  Their expressions indicating that they
weren't about to say anything else at this point.
     Well that proves one thing, Boomer thought.  The names of Husker and
Valeri sure don't belong in any list of people this Fleet can take some
pride in.
     "Okay Sheba, radio the Prison Barge and tell them we're on
approach."
     "Prison Barge approach control, this is Galactica shuttle requesting
landing instructions."
     There was just a brief hesitation before a response came. 
"Galactica shuttle, this is Superintendent Jenks.  You are clear to land. 
No other traffic in landing bay at present to tie you up."
     "Thank you.  Will stand by for receipt of prisoners for transfer."
     As Sheba adjusted her headset she could see out of the corner of her
eye that Boomer had an odd look on his face.
     "What's wrong?" she asked.
     "That was the Prison Barge Superintendent who talked to you."
     "So?"
     "He doesn't handle routine communications stuff like this.  They've
got one of their own guards to handle that."
     Sheba shrugged, "Maybe it's just the seriousness of the situation
that's got him taking personal charge of this."
     "Maybe," Boomer didn't sound convinced.  Even so, he knew he didn't
have anything other than an odd feeling to go on.  Definitely not enough
to make him act.  Especially with the two pests from Council Security
behind him who might use any disruption in plans as an excuse to start
getting cocky about their authority again.


     Aboard the Prison Barge, Superintendent Jenks, who had been inside
the Communications Center attending to a routine inspection when he had
seen the escaped prisoners barge in with weapons drawn, calmly placed the
unicom device down.
     "Is that the last message you need to send them?" Leiter demanded.
     "Until they land," he said quietly, glancing over at the sight of an
unconscious technician who'd been overpowered as soon as the prisoners
entered.
     "Thank you," Leiter then motioned to Krebs, who promptly unleashed
the firepower of his laser gun into the communications terminal,
rendering it a pile of smoldering junk in an instant.
     "Excellent," Baltar chuckled.  "And now, to give them a welcoming
reception."


     To Boomer's satisfaction, neither Valeri nor Husker said another
word throughout the rest of the journey, which meant he would honor their
silence with a normal, smooth landing in the Prison Barge.
     As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Sheba flicked several
switches to her left.  "Adjusting engines to stand-by mode for quick
turnaround.  Maneuvering back into position for relaunch."
     "Locked in position for relaunch," Boomer then looked back over his
shoulder at the Security officers, "Okay guys, go pick up our guests and
lead them aboard."
     There were only indifferent expressions on Valeri and Husker,
indicating that neither had any desire to say anything more to the two
warriors.  They unhitched their harnesses and stepped out the hatch which
Sheba had opened from her console.
     "Look at them," Sheba chuckled as soon as they'd stepped out, "Pale
as an Orion moon."
     "Serves them right," Boomer said dryly, "I swear if just one man
from Colonial Security took over their division, it would finally knock
some sense into them.  The only reason why there's bad blood between
warriors and them is because of their attitude problems, plus the fact
that they always seem to scrape the bottom when it comes to recruits. 
Like Valeri for instance."
     "You know him?"
     "Oh yeah.  Washed out of warrior training a few sectars ago, just
before you joined us.  He came in with this big, 'I'm going to show you
guys how talented I am' attitude, and then when he couldn't pass muster
after Level One of training, he kept thinking it was because we were
biased against him.  And since I was the one who had to officially flunk
him out, that's why whenever we end up in the same room, he just keeps
trying to pick a fight."  
     "Just don't let your problem with him boil up like Starbuck's did
with Ortega," Sheba let out another chuckle, "I wouldn't want to see you
accused of his termination."
     "Well, at least I could always run to Apollo for help in acting as
my Protector."
     A centon later, they heard the footsteps of many people entering the
shuttle compartment.  Sheba turned around and saw the two officers at the
head with the Alliance prisoners behind them.  Their expressions were
totally ashen.
     "Boomer, they look paler than when they got off," she turned to him.
     Before the dark-skinned warrior could respond, the Alliance
prisoners suddenly dashed up to the front of the cockpit and trained
their previously unseen weapons on them.
     "What the-," Boomer started in disbelief.  Krebs immediately
stripped him of his laser pistol, while Leiter did likewise with Sheba. 
Stunned, the two warriors then saw Baltar walk from the rear of the
shuttle toward them with a taunting smile.  Behind him, Boomer
immediately recognized Charybdis and the three Borellian Nomen who had
attempted to kill Starbuck.
     "Good to see you again, Lieutenant...Boomer is it not?"  Baltar was
clearly enjoying himself.  He then glanced over at Sheba, "And you must
be Commander Cain's daughter, of whom I've heard much about.  Unfortunate
that you should find yourself in a position that your esteemed father
would never have allowed himself to be in."
     "Baltar," Boomer whispered in disbelief, unable to say anything
else.
     "Ironic, isn't it Lieutenant?"  Baltar went on, "The last time I met
you, you and Apollo had come to me for help, concerning whether I could
identify Charybdis.  Well, better late than never," he motioned behind
him to his one-time subordinate, who still seemed a bit ill-at-ease, as
if he was worried he'd gotten himself into a situation that he had no
control over whatsoever.  "You can see that with the nine of us aboard
this craft, it's quite foolish to think of resisting."
     "What do you want us to do?" Boomer knew that he couldn't dare get
cute in a situation like this.  He had to play it calm every step of the
way.
     "For starters, take us back to the Galactica.  And when you radio
ahead to Core Command, keep all of your communications quite normal, or
else it'll be with regret that I prevent Commander Cain's daughter from
having any further opportunity to equal her father's exploits."
     Boomer slowly nodded and cast a reassuring glance at Sheba, who
while tense from having a pistol pointed at the back of her head was
still maintaining her composure.  He closed the door to the hatch and
then fired up the engines so the shuttle could launch.


     Aboard the Galactica, Adama found himself checking his wrist
chronometer as he waited for an update on the status of the shuttle
bringing back the Alliance prisoners.  He should have heard one several
centons ago passed along as a matter of formality.
     "Athena," he came over to his daughter's console, "Hasn't the Prison
Barge shuttle reported back their status?"
     "Not since they landed, Father," Athena said, momentarily forgetting
the protocol rule, but her father let it pass.
     "Well get in touch with Superintendent Jenks on the Prison Barge and
find out if they've left or if they've been held up."
     "Will do that," Athena said and then put a hand to her ear, "Just a
centon, Commander.  Boomer reports they're away and will be on-track to
land in Alpha Bay in about eight centons."
     "Good, good."  Adama moved over to the other side of the command
deck where Tinia had remained, "Sire Domra informs me that a delegation
of seven will be receiving them.  If you wish to join him."
     "Thank you, no, Adama," the siress said.  "I believe protocol
dictates that my place should be here."
     "At all times of the cycle?" Tigh muttered under his breath from his
position opposite her.
     This time though, Tinia had heard him.  "Colonel Tigh, if you have
anything to say regarding my duties, you will say them directly to me, or
else I shall consider it grounds for disciplinary action."
     The executive officer glared at her with pure disdain,   "I was
asking if your 'duties' as they are, require your constant presence, and
if that means we should expect another emissary from the Council on the
Bridge when the Siress will obviously be in need of a sleep cycle."
     "It is a proper question, I think, Siress Tinia," Adama gently cut
in, not about to let Tinia reproach Tigh over his obvious sarcasm. 
"Perhaps you can remind the Colonel, that you are only required here when
I am on watch, is that not so?"
     "Yes," Tinia said with frost, "That is so.  Does that answer your
question, Colonel?"
     "Perfectly," he said dryly and went back to the other side of the
deck.
     "Commander," Athena looked up with a puzzled look, "I was trying to
raise Superintendent Jenks on the Prison Barge to cancel that request,
but...I can't raise the Prison Barge at all.  Their communications
appear to be out."
     "What?"  Adama frowned and came back over.  He then called down to
Omega, one level below them, "Omega, try raising the Prison Barge on
auxiliary bands."
     "Yes, Commander," the bridge officer said as he flicked several
switches and then shook his head, "Commander, I can't even key them in at
all."
     "Same here," Athena said, "That can only mean all of their
communications are down."
     "Try the telecom links."
     "I already did that," his daughter said.  "Commander, this means
their central system has to be out."
     "That isn't supposed to happen unless there's been a catastrophic
level failure aboard the ship," Adama felt an alarm bell go off inside
him.  "Keep trying them, and see if it clears up.  Colonel?"
     "Sir."
     "What's the security status in Alpha Bay for the shuttle's arrival?"
     "Just a unit from Council Security, sir."
     "I want a half dozen members of Colonial Security down there on the
double.  Tell Lieutenant Didion that I want only the best men in his
division standing by."
     "Commander," Tinia interrupted coldly, "The Council does not want
warriors around when we greet the Alliance representatives.  You know
this."
     "Siress Tinia," Adama was rapidly losing his ability to stay patient
with her.  "Doesn't it strike you as odd, that all of the communications
with the Prison Barge are now out?  That is a scenario that isn't
supposed to happen given how the communications system works.  If we
can't talk to their bridge, we should still have been able to talk to
them via the individual telecom units.  When the entire central system
goes out at the same time that shuttle with those prisoners takes off,
that doesn't strike me as a mere coincidence."
     "Perhaps," the Siress was showing signs of losing patience herself,
"But did not Lieutenant Athena report that the shuttle has radioed to
request landing clearance in less than eight centons from now?"  She
looked down at the commander's daughter, "That is so, isn't it,
Lieutenant?"
     "Yes, but----," she got no further before Tinia cut her off.
     "And you recognized the pilot's voice, did you not?"
     "Yes, it is Lieutenant Boomer."
     Tinia glared back at Adama, "Then that should settle your paranoid
mind, Commander.  There will be no warriors in the landing bay, either
from Colonial Security *or* from among your pilots.  Council policy."
     Tigh was on the verge of exploding.  He managed to keep his inner
rage under control and instead, slowly made his way over to Adama.
     "Commander," he struggled to keep his voice calm, "My duty cycle
grants me a thirty centon break at any time over the next three centars. 
With your permission, I would like to do so, and get some air."
     "Granted," Adama nodded.  But Tigh had only gone a half step before
an angry Tinia called after him.
     "Colonel Tigh, if your place for 'air' happens to include Alpha Bay,
I will view that as an act of insubordination."
     There were a thousand epithets Tigh wished he could shout at her
right now.  And just where do you, a lowly bureautician from Virgon, who
never did more than act as administrator over a minor continent, get off
telling me, someone who's busted my astrum for twenty -five yahrens for
the Colonial nation, anything?  Instead, he managed to keep those
thoughts hidden.
     "Then shall I ask for your permission to retire to the Officer's
Club, or am I on a quota from the Council as to what I can imbibe during
my break period?"
     "You may go anywhere you please, Colonel, but *not* the landing bay. 
That is all."
     Tigh angrily turned and stormed off the bridge.  Adama felt pained
inside to see his best friend subjected to this kind of humiliation.  He
knew he had to let Tinia know in no uncertain terms how he felt about
that.
     "Siress Tinia," his voice was trained at that perfect level of
diplomacy that also injected just the right hint of displeasure and
coldness, "If you are to continue as the Council's emissary, it will be
with this understanding from you.  And that is the fact that Colonel Tigh
is an exceptional warrior, who has distinguished himself for more than
twenty-five yahrens in service to the Colonial nation."
     He moved away and then purposefully showed his back to her.
     "Adama," Tinia's voice softened just a bit, "You are all good
warriors.  But what we need now are good diplomats."
     "Like we needed at Carillon?" he kept his back to her.
     "Now you really do me and the rest of your brothers on the Council a
disservice," Tinia said.  "This has nothing to do with being blinded to a
delusional plan from someone like Sire Uri about laying down our weapons
before the Cylons.  It has to do with pragmatically approaching
representatives who may be our first real contact with the leadership of
the Thirteenth Tribe."
     "You saw the report," Adama still refused to face her, deciding he
would play this out for as long as he diplomatically could, "Whatever
Terra ultimately is, it isn't the planet Earth.  That variable should no
longer factor into our decision-making."
     "I am not convinced," Tinia said, "You reject the likelihood that
Terra could be Earth because it doesn't match charts that go back more
than seven millennia at least, and which only serve in second-hand
translations of an ancient book even devout people have their doubts
about as a meaningful supplement to the Book of the Word."
     "The Testament of Arkada's accuracy has been proved more than once,
Siress Tinia."
     "But not beyond any shadow of a doubt, Adama.  And that is why
diplomacy must be exercised to the fullest when it comes to approaching
these men."
     Adama finally turned around, "Answer me this, Siress Tinia.  If
after meeting these Alliance representatives, as you prefer to call them,
you discover that they measure up exactly to how they were described by
Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck...just what does the Council
have in mind for dealing with them, then?"
     "We will consider that, only when it is clear that we have to,
Commander."  Tinia said, and then she moved off.
     Interesting, Adama thought.  I think even she realizes that they
don't have an answer to that question because they're so determined to
believe that they won't have to deal with it.
     "Shuttle reports four centons from landing," Athena reported.
     With that report, Adama found himself hoping that it wouldn't take
long after the shuttle's landing for the Council to realize that dealing
with that question would be precisely the thing they would have to do, if
they hoped to continue governing with full authority.


     "This is Core Command, you are cleared to land in Alpha Bay."
     "Thank you, Core Command.  We are on final approach."  Boomer had
kept his tone normal, exactly as Baltar had ordered.  He knew that he
couldn't take any risk with a hidden signal to Athena that Baltar might
easily pick up on.
     As Krebs and Leiter kept their weapons trained on the two pilots,
Baltar found himself sitting behind Sheba, smiling malevolently at her.
     "In case you're wondering how I recognized you so easily, it's
because you are the very image of your late mother," Baltar said with
gentle charm, "It was a privilege to see her magnificent performances
many times on the Caprican stage."
     Sheba said nothing as she bit her lip and tightened her grip on the
controls.  She wasn't going to allow Baltar even the slightest trace of a
thank you for anything he said.
     As the Galactica landing bay came into view, Baltar glanced over at
Boomer, "By the way, Lieutenant, do make it a nice smooth landing.  I'd
hate to see us go through a sudden bump that might result in
an...accidental weapons discharge from one of these Alliance men not
used to such a maneuver."
     So much for that, Boomer thought, knowing he couldn't make a sudden
maneuver to throw them off their feet like he'd done with the two
Security Officers to rattle them.  If anything was to be done about these
madmen, it could only be done by those aboard the Galactica.
     Starbuck, Apollo, he said to himself.  Both of you have told me in
the past you're in debt to me.  Starbuck, because I helped get you
cleared of the murder charge, and Apollo, because I saved Boxey's life,
and Athena's during that suicide attack.  Well right now, I'd appreciate
it very much if you'd make things square all around.

                         Chapter Four

     "...For many people, the announcement that the Colonial government
has returned to a complete state of civilian control, would be seen as
the dawn of a new day.  A sign that after many sectars of difficult
flight across the stars since the Holocaust, it is possible at last for a
greater sense of normality to return to our lives.  And yet, there are
those who view the recent decision of the Council of Twelve in an
altogether different light.  Including as it turns out, two members of
the Council who are with us now in the IFB studio.  I am joined by Sire
Anton, one-time aide to the late President Adar, and Sire Antipas of
Libra.  Gentlemen, welcome."
     "A pleasure to be here, Zara," the young Councilor smiled,
accentuating his youthful, handsome features.
     "Zara," Anton merely acknowledged, not wanting to make any insincere
comments about being happy to be there.  For the elderly sire, subjecting
himself to an interview with Zara had become a necessity.
     "Our viewers should note that we asked if any of your brother
members of the Council wished to join us as well, but Siress Lydia
declined, and the other members are still aboard the Galactica right now,
attending to important Council business.  Sire Anton, I'll ask you first. 
Why did you vote against the resolution restoring Council control of the
Colonial people?"
     "For a simple reason, Zara," Anton's voice was less genial than
usual, and more forceful.  "Such an action is gravely premature at this
time.  The maintenance of order within a Fleet of 220 ships trying to
outrun hostile pursuit is a task that a purely civilian body is not
capable of handling.  Not because the tradition of Council government has
become outmoded or serves no purpose, but because it is not best suited
to that particular job.  Our experience at Carillon revealed the weakness
of prematurely returning to civilian government when we were not ready to
do so.  That lesson should still be guiding our actions, and should in
all likelihood remain in place until we have reached the goal of
settlement amongst the Thirteenth Tribe."
     "But Sire Anton," Zara questioned skeptically, "When we are
seemingly so close to making contact with the Thirteenth tribe, how can
that decision be premature?"
     Anton emphatically shook his head, "I am not convinced that the
recent experiences of the past sectan reveals that we are any more closer
to the Thirteenth tribe than we have been.  All we have discovered is
that there exists some human civilization that has clearly developed
independently of any previous connection with the Twelve worlds.  And
that such a civilization is based on a planet called Terra which is
apparently caught up in a civil war between rival human factions.  The
question of whether this Terra is in fact the Earth that we seek is one
that I am inclined not to believe at this time, in light of the evidence
brought back by our warriors who escorted the Terran spacecraft and its
occupants to a nearby planet.  But aside from that, the fact that we are
dealing with a planet torn apart by war and conflict should tell us that
whatever this civilization ultimately is, it is clearly one not apt to
offer our people the safe haven, and the long-term opportunity to defend
ourselves against the Cylons, that we all hope to find one day.  At least
not at present.  And in that context, it is simply folly to assume that
lowering our guard by returning to the seemingly safe path of Council
leadership could possibly be a prudent course of action to undertake at
this time."
     "Sire Antipas, do you concur?"
     "To this extent, Zara," the young Councilor's tone was smooth. 
"Like Sire Anton, I believe the decision was made most prematurely,
without a full evaluation of the facts brought back by our warriors who
are in a position to know better.  Perhaps it's true we'll find that
eventually, Terra is a planet that does offer possibilities for our
people, and if that turns out to be the case, than a greater return to
Council authority might in fact be a proper step.  But...in the context
in which the Council acted, I felt I had no choice but to oppose this
measure."
     As the interview continued to play on the vid-com screen in the
Galactica Officer's Club, Starbuck found himself looking on in
admiration.
     "Well, at least there are a couple sensible people left on the
Council."
     "Wish I could say that of the both of them," Apollo's expression was
more guarded.
     "What do you mean?" Starbuck frowned as he sipped from his tankard.
     "Anton is sensible," Apollo said, "But...something about Antipas I
don't like.  I can't quite put my finger on it, but...I think he's
hedging his bets."
     "A conservative wagerer in other words?" Starbuck asked.
     "Sort of," his friend nodded.  "Playing it safe.  If this thing
backfires on the Council, then it's going to make it difficult for any
member who pushed for this."
     Abruptly, their attention was diverted from the IFB monitor in the
Club to the unexpected sight of Colonel Tigh entering the Club.  The
executive officer was seldom the type to hang-out with the rank and file
warriors, so at first Apollo and Starbuck wondered if a flash inspection
was about to take place.  Instead, they saw Tigh come up to them, and ask
in a low, friendly tone, "Mind if I join you?"
     "Oh...why sure, Colonel!"  Starbuck was surprised.  "Matter of
fact, ah...maybe we could grab one of the empty tables over there? 
Barstool's no place for a colonel."
     "Good idea, Starbuck," Tigh sighed and then called over to the
bartender, "Bring me a double of whatever they're having.  We'll be over
there."
     Apollo blinked slightly as he picked up his tankard and followed
Starbuck and Tigh over to the table on the other side of the Club.  It
was surprising enough that Tigh would come in to the Club to socialize. 
It was doubly surprising to see Tigh deciding to have a strong drink.
     There is something clearly wrong happening, he thought.  And he knew
he had to get to the bottom of it.
     "Colonel," Apollo chose his words carefully, "I've...never seen
you here unless it was to grab one of us for a mission."
     "Well, there's a first time for everything," Tigh sighed as he
settled back in his chair and waited for the bartender to bring his full
tankard over.  As soon as it was there, he wasted no time taking a deep
gulp from it.  So deep, that it even amazed Starbuck
     "Ah...Colonel, is your duty cycle officially over?"
     "Not entirely, but the way things are going it won't make any
difference once I have to report back to the Bridge, seeing how I've
become a bit of a useless appendage there." the executive officer didn't
hide the bitterness in his voice, "Haven't you heard?  We're safely in
the arms of the Council now.  Next thing you know, Siress Tinia will
probably insist on a right to an honorary commission."
     "She's on the Bridge, I take," Starbuck noted.
     "On it?" he scoffed, "She's practically taken it over.  And making
sure that right now, at this very centon, the other seven members of the
Council will be waiting in Alpha Bay right now to greet those Enforcers
you captured with open arms."
     "We know," Apollo sighed.  "Kobol only knows what kind of idiotic
concessions they're going to make to them."
     "There's one thing you don't know," Tigh decided now was the time to
drop a not so subtle hint to them.  "Communications to the Prison Barge
went out, just after the shuttle bringing them over here was launched."
     "What?" Starbuck's facade of uneasy humor disappeared.  "The whole
central system?"
     "You couldn't even place a telecom there to a special number and get
through," Tigh laid his words on thick.  "But Siress Tinia thinks it's no
cause for concern.  That's why she personally nixed any suggestion that
some Colonial Security men be down there as a safety precaution.  This
will strictly be a Council Security operation protecting a quorum of the
Council membership as they talk to those people you have some personal
experience with."
     Tigh downed the rest of his tankard and then snapped his fingers to
indicate he wanted a refill.  As the bartender came over, he added, "She
even threatened me with a potential court-martial if I so much as took
one step toward the landing bay."
     "Determined lady, isn't she," Starbuck shook his head in disbelief
as he crushed the remainder of his fumarello out.
     Apollo said nothing at first.  He was doing some quick thinking, and
then he suddenly rose from his seat.
     "Uh...Starbuck," he made a not good attempt at sounding nonchalant,
"You think maybe we should take a little...walk?"
     His friend immediately caught on, "Uh...yeah.  Now that you think
of it, that sounds like a great thing to 'volunteer' for." he rose,
"Colonel, will you excuse us?"
     Thank you, Tigh thought inside as he tried not to smile, "It wasn't
anything I said, was it, gentlemen?"
     "No sir," Apollo shook his head, trying not to communicate any
understanding.  "No matter who asks us about our walk, we will always
make it clear that it wasn't anything you said that made us do so. 
Besides," he glanced at Starbuck, "Doesn't he look like the kind of guy
who could always use a walk?"
     "He sure does," Tigh said, "Learn to cut back on those fumarellos,
Starbuck, and you wouldn't have to take the extra walks."
     "I'll remember that, sir," the blonde warrior wryly smiled as he
followed Apollo out.  Tigh noticed that they were going at a much faster
than normal pace.
     I hope to God it is paranoia, the executive officer thought.  But I
would never be able to live with myself if I didn't take a chance to get
them down there.


     The shuttle had just entered the landing bay as Baltar turned to
Leiter, who still had his pistol trained on Sheba.  "The instant the
hatch opens, you and your men will eliminate all the guards and take as
many hostages as you can."
     "Do not worry, Baltar," Leiter was fast developing an admiration for
the traitor, even if he had his eccentricities, "We are very good at such
operations."
     "I'm sure you are," he smiled and then made his way to the middle of
the shuttle where the three Nomen and a still uneasy Charybdis sat.  
     "Gentlemen," he said to them, "The four of you will accompany me to
the turbo lift.  Fully armed, we will then storm the Bridge and take them
by surprise."
     "What?" Charybdis blurted, "Baltar, we couldn't possibly do that. 
There's at least a few dozen crewmen there."
     "Nearly all of whom, would be most unarmed since Bridge personnel do
not carry firearms, Charybdis," Baltar chided.  "And since the Nomen have
their laser boles back, which can be quite destructive when set off, that
will more than compensate for our being outnumbered."
     "Colonial Security----,"
     "Can be overcome," he cut him off and then looked at the Nomen, "Are
you in agreement?"
     "We can overcome those jackals," Maga's monotonic voice exuded
confidence, "But when we control the Bridge?"
     "Then we control the Galactica," the traitor said, "It's as simple
as that."
     "It's not that simple, Baltar," Charybdis protested, "Taking the
Bridge is unnecessary.  We can achieve all our objectives by holding the
landing bay and having hostages."
     "I am giving the orders, Charybdis!" Baltar was suddenly in his
face.  "Things are finally back to what they once were.  You are my
subordinate, and if you want to survive, you'll continue to be so.  Have
I made myself clear?"
     He looked Baltar in the eye with cold, visible contempt,
"Perfectly."
     "Good," there was a large level of satisfaction in Baltar's voice. 
By getting Charybdis to go with his plan and forcing him back into a
subservient position, Baltar had already evened one score.  He was
determined it wouldn't be the last.
     They felt the momentum of the shuttle come to a stop.  They had
arrived, and it was time to move quickly.


     As the shuttle moved to a stop.  Domra led the seven Council members
across the tarmac toward the craft, determined as they were to be right
in front of the hatch the instant it opened.  
     "Remember," he said with an air of supreme confidence, "These people
have been mistreated by our warriors."
     "I'm not sure I'd put it that way, Domra," Sire Montrose injected a
cautious note.  "We might fault their judgment in taking them prisoner,
but they have scarcely been 'mistreated'."
     Domra glared at the elderly Canceran, "Regardless of that, my dear
Montrose, it's only natural that these men will feel a little hostile
toward us.  That's why we must make every effort to give them a warm
welcome."
     "I don't dispute that, Domra," Montrose said, "But in greeting them
warmly, let us not be so overly critical of our own warriors when
conversing with them.  That is all."
     They stood in front of the hatch and watched it open.  And before
any of the seven Council members, or the four Council Security officers
could react, the three members of Leiter's destroyer crew stormed out
with their weapons drawn.  Krebs, in the lead, fired two shots into the
air and immediately rushed over with the others to disarm the stunned
security men.  
     "What in the-?" Domra managed to blurt in stunned shock.  But before
he could say anything else, Leiter had emerged with his own laser weapon
pointed at them.  Finally, Baltar, Charybdis and the three Nomen emerged
and pushed their way past the others in the direction of the turbo lift.
     "Get on board now or you're all dead!" Leiter shouted at the top of
his voice.  "Inside!"
     "Commandant Leiter, please!" Domra protested, "We're your friends!"
     "No talking!" Leiter shoved him in the hatch, "Just get inside now!"
     In the back of the column, Montrose felt a sick feeling of disgust
as he saw Baltar move past.  As he felt Krebs push him along inside, the
veteran member of the Council only had one thought going through his
mind.
     Adama, you were right.


     Baltar, Charybdis and the Nomen all managed to squeeze into the
confines of the turbo lift.  He pressed the button for the level that
would give them a clear path to the Bridge.
     "Have your weapons ready," Baltar said with cold confidence, "If you
see so much as one Colonial Security Guard in the corridor, kill him."
     "Baltar, I still think this move is too dangerous," Charybdis
insisted.
     "It's too late to protest, Charybdis, unless you desire a return
visit to the Prison Barge," he smirked at him, "You don't want that, do
you?"
     His one-time subordinate lowered his head, feeling totally
intimidated at this point.
     The turbo lift began to decelerate meaning it would soon arrive. 
Baltar turned to Maga to make sure the lead Nomen had his hands on his
laser boles.  Taba and Bora had done likewise.
     The lift came to a stop and the door opened.
     "Looks deserted," Charybdis mumbled, still feeling ill inside.
     Baltar pointed the stub of his pistol into his former subordinate's
back.  "In that case, Charybdis, you should have no trouble leading the
way and then seeing just how simple this will be."
     He turned around and summoned an angry look at him, "Don't push me,
Baltar, or----,"
     "Or what?" he smugly cut him off.  "You'll try to warn them?  I
wouldn't try that, Charybdis.  For better or worse, you're back on my
team now.  And don't forget that."
     "Move, you weak daggit!" Maga hissed, anxious to get moving.
     Charybdis uneasily swallowed and stepped out into the passageway. 
They would need to reach the end and turn hard left to reach the access
corridor that led to the Bridge.
     As Charybdis led the way, he suddenly froze when he saw at the end,
making a hard left turn in their direction, two warriors he immediately
recognized.  Starbuck and Apollo.  One, a man he had once tried to frame
for murder, the other a man he had once tried to kill inside a shuttle,
but for the sudden intervention of Baltar.
     He hurriedly opened fire at the two warriors, but because he'd been
so nervous and uneasy from Baltar's intimidation, and his own doubts in
the plan, his shots were way off in their precision and missed both men
by several feet.
     Apollo and Starbuck, jolted by what they had seen, reacted quickly
by unleashing their own lasers and opening fire in return.
     "Get them!" Baltar shouted, recognizing both warriors as well, and
feeling just a brief rush that perhaps he'd be able to settle two more
scores right away.  But suddenly, that feeling evaporated when he saw a
shot from Starbuck suddenly strike Charybdis in the temple.  His one-time
subordinate dropped to the floor in a dead heap, which immediately put
Baltar in the line of fire.
     The traitor hurriedly stepped back and found himself colliding with
Taba and Bora.  Only Maga had gotten around Baltar, and he hurled his
laser boles at the two warriors, who immediately recognizing the danger,
stepped back behind the bulkhead wall to avoid being hit by them.  The
boles exploded against the wall, blackening it, but neither warrior had
been affected by it.
     As Maga took a step down to retrieve his weapon, both Apollo and
Starbuck started opening fire at them again.  And now, all of Baltar's
confidence was gone, as he realized that the only way to keep the upper
hand was to abandon this plan entirely.
     He quickly glimpsed down at Charybdis's motionless form and managed
to retrieve the laser pistol from his hand.  He barely had enough time to
think, You were right as he then stepped back toward the turbo lift.
     "Get back in!" he shouted at the Nomen, "We'll fall back on the
Landing Bay and operate from there!  Inside!"
     The three Nomen crowded themselves back in alongside Baltar as
Starbuck and Apollo tried to make their way toward them, their eyes
blazing with red-hot fury.  The angry determined looks on their faces was
the last thing Baltar saw before the doors closed and the lift began its
descent back to Alpha Landing Bay.
     "All right," he exhaled and tried to collect himself.  "We still
have the Council hostage.  That will be enough."
     He became aware of the silence from the three Nomen and uneasily
looked at them.  He almost wondered if they would unleash their wrath
upon him at that very instant.
     Finally, Maga broke the silence, "Let us hope you fare better than
you did here, Baltar."
     The traitor could only uneasily smirk as he turned his head away
from them.


     Above, Apollo and Starbuck pounded on the closed turbo lift door,
hoping there was some way to override its programming and get it to come
back, but both of them knew by the time they could get to the auxiliary
control box, the lift would have long since reached its destination,
which they knew was the Landing Bay.
     "Frack!" Apollo shouted with disgust as he pressed the unicom on the
board, "Bridge, this is Captain Apollo!  Landing Bay Alpha is under
attack.  Need reinforcements sent in to the perimeter."
     "Apollo," Starbuck said as he rose from examining Charybdis, "He's
still alive.  He'll need a med-tech."
     "Also send med-tech to Turbo Lift #3 in Beta Section.  One escaped
prisoner unconscious in need of treatment."
     "Assistance will be there in a centon!" they heard Omega's voice
urgently answer.  
     Starbuck shook his head in disgust, "Baltar, the Nomen, those
Enforcers down there.  Well, I guess the bright side of it is that all
our enemies are in the same place."
     "And then some," Apollo said, "That guy you just took out is
Charybdis."
     The blonde warrior glanced back at the unconscious body lying there
in disbelief, "I always did want to get even with that snitrad.  But not
in this context."  He managed to let out a weak chuckle, "Good thing you
waited to tell me who he is, or I might not have told you to ask for the
med-tech."
     "Never mind that," the captain said, "You can bet anything they're
holding the Council hostage.  No telling what they plan on doing now."


     As soon as the word was passed to Adama by Omega, he wasted little
time issuing a series of new orders.  
     "Athena," he came over to his daughter's station.  "Inform all ships
in the Fleet that all traffic between ships is suspended until further
notice.  I don't want a single civilian shuttle out there, passenger or
cargo."
     Then, to Rigel's position, "Have Silver Spar Squadron scrambled for
immediate launch to assume screening position around the perimeter of the
Fleet.  I want them to be ready to move in any direction that shuttle
moves in if it should take off."
     Finally, back to Omega, "Notify Lieutenant Didion that I want all
available units of Colonial Security set up around all hatches above and
below Alpha Bay.  Make no effort to penetrate that zone unless there's a
direct order from me.  Also, have Colonel Tigh paged on unicom.  I want
him up here right away."
     As Adama made his way back to the upper level of the Bridge, he saw
an uneasy Tinia standing there.  She had not followed the Commander
around after Omega had passed the first word of what had happened,
preferring to wait for a fuller report.  But it was clear that the Siress
knew the information could not be good...and would no doubt carry some
serious repercussions in light of all that had happened previously.
     Adama came up to her and spoke in a cold tone, "It would seem Siress
Tinia, that those 'Alliance representatives' as you have insisted on
calling them, have just taken control of Alpha Landing Bay and are
holding that entire delegation of the Council hostage, along with the
shuttle pilots and six Council Security Officers."
     "Adama, I-," she started and stopped, not knowing what she could say
at this point.  As she continued to fumble for words, Apollo and Starbuck
entered the Bridge and came up to them.
     "It's not just the Alliance behind this," Apollo said, "Baltar and
the Borellian Nomen who tried to kill Chameleon are with them.  So was
Charybdis, but we managed to take him down in the firefight.  He's being
treated in the Life Station."
     "Where did you take them on?"  Adama asked.
     "They had just stepped off the turbo lift, and were clearly headed
for the Bridge when Starbuck and I intercepted them."
     "If Colonel Tigh hadn't warned us, we wouldn't have been there, and
they might have been on the Bridge now holding everyone here hostage as
well," Starbuck added, as he gave Tinia an icy glance.
     "Where is Colonel Tigh?" Adama demanded.
     "Reporting for duty, sir," the executive officer said as he entered
the area.  He looked up at Tinia, who was now avoiding all possible eye
contact with him.  Her head lowered in a mixture of embarrassment and
shame.
     "Adama," she said quietly, "From this centon on, I relinquish all
duties vested in me as the Council's civilian representative.  This
entire operation is under your full control."
     Adama decided to give himself just the tiniest bit of satisfaction,
"Thank you, Siress Tinia," he said frostily and then looked down at
Rigel's station.  "Status on Silver Spar Squadron?"
     "Captain Bojay and five vipers have just launched from Beta Bay,"
Rigel said.  "They are now in position to intercept any shuttle launched
from the Galactica."
     "Commander," Athena chimed in, "All civilian traffic among ships now
grounded."
     "Good," Adama nodded, "Now we have to find out what kind of demands
they're going to make.  Omega, can you tie me in on vid-scan to the
shuttle's cockpit?"
     "Negative, Commander.  It's blocked at their end.  We have to wait
for them to raise us directly."  The Bridge Officer put a hand to his
ear, "Their jamming is now off.  I think they're...yes, they're coming
in now."
     "Transfer to my console."
     The monitor on Adama's level came on, and he immediately saw
Baltar's face.  The traitor had an uncharacteristically pleasant
expression.  The only other person visible in the frame was Sheba, seated
to the left, and immediately Apollo felt himself tense inside.  He hadn't
know that she was one of the shuttle pilots.
     "Hello, Adama," Baltar's calm voice matched his expression, "You
look...haggard."
     "Baltar," Adama had no intention of engaging in any verbal jousts
with his one-time Council colleague, "Put down your arms and surrender. 
There's no way you can escape."
     The pleasant normality of Baltar's expression suddenly gave way to
one of his characteristic, and irritating chuckles.  "Oh, Adama, you're
wonderful.  I have a blade to your throat and you actually have the
temerity to give me orders.  Lest you think I'm bluffing, I'll let your
friend Domra explain just what it is I and Commandant Leiter's men are
doing right now."
     Abruptly, Domra was shoved into the image, just behind Baltar's
shoulder.  "Adama, they're attaching solonite charges to the hull that
they took from the shuttle's munitions locker.  They'll kill us all if
you don't do what he says!"
     The massive forearm of one of the Nomen then suddenly pushed Domra
out of view, cutting him off from saying anything further.
     Baltar waited a half centon before he spoke again, "Are you
listening to me, Adama?"
     "Go ahead, Baltar," the commander's voice was neutral.
     "First," the traitor said coldly, "You will release the two Cylon
pilots who flew me here originally from my baseship.  Second, you will
have my fighter, and the Alliance destroyer moved into launch position
here in the landing bay.  When my comrades and I are safely aboard our
ships, the shuttle will launch.  Then the destroyer, and finally my
fighter."
     "Of what use are your centurions and your fighter to you, Baltar?" 
Adama found that part of the request puzzling.  
     "They have a use, Adama," Baltar's smirk grew menacing, "I'll leave
it to you to figure out just how useful they can be to me.  Now if I
might continue."
     "Of course."
     "You are to take no action against any of our ships after they are
launched.  All of the ships will proceed unimpeded to the nearest
Alliance base, which Commandant Leiter informs me is on the outpost
planet Lunar Seven.  Any attempt to prevent safe passage to the Alliance
base will result in me blowing the charges on the shuttle with just one
press of this button."  He then held up in plain sight a detonating
control unit.  "And that means, Adama, I don't even want to see a single
pursuing Viper on our scanner monitoring our journey."
     Adama kept his hands behind his back, his voice level, "And after
you reach the Alliance base?"
     "Then the shuttle will be allowed to return to the Galactica."
     The Commander suddenly shook his head, "Do you think for one centon,
I believe you'd let the hostages go once you're safe in the hands of the
Eastern Alliance?"
     "Unlike that time on Kobol, Adama, you have no choice but to obey
me!"  Baltar hoped Adama got the message.  "My instructions are to be
followed to the letter.  You have exactly one centar to fulfill them or
else I'll start killing these hostages one-by-one in front of you! 
Starting with the two people I think you value more highly than you do
the members of the Council, Lieutenants Boomer and Sheba!"
     The sick tension inside Apollo and Starbuck only increased.  Now the
stakes had taken on a matter of greater personal significance to the two
of them.
     Just then, Boomer was shoved into the image at the right side, his
expression angry.  "Commander, he'll just kill us all later!  Take them
out now, while you've got a chance----."
     One of the other Nomen suddenly yanked Boomer out of view.  Baltar
then smugly held up the detonator again.
     "One centar, Adama."
     And then, the screen went blank as the transmission abruptly ceased. 
For a centon, there was silence on the upper level of the Bridge.
     "Well?" an angry Starbuck finally broke it.
     "We have no choice but to proceed for now," Adama said.
     "I don't understand that insistence on getting his two Cylons back,"
Tigh knew he had to put aside his anger and start concentrating on
dealing with the problem.  "What use are they to him or the Alliance for
that matter?"
     "Agreed," Adama nodded, "Unless...Baltar thinks he needs them as
an insurance policy for when he tries to deal with the Eastern Alliance
leadership.  A visual display of just what kind of force the Cylon Empire
represents is probably what he needs to make sure the Alliance will be
quick to embrace him as a permanent ally."
     "Whatever he needs them for isn't the issue," Apollo spoke up
urgently, "Where are those centurions?  What happened to them after
Baltar was captured?"
     "They were turned over to Dr. Wilker for study of their components
and circuits," Adama said quietly, "I...fear they may not be in a usable
condition at this point."
     "Oh boy," Starbuck thought, "Knowing Wilker, I know just what you
mean."
     "Come on," Apollo said to his friend, "Let's get down to his lab. 
We'll report back what the situation is on that point."
     As soon as the two warriors were gone, Adama went back over to
Rigel, "Notify all off-duty launch personnel to report down there and
make preparations to have the captured Cylon fighter and Alliance
Destroyer in launch ready positions.  And make sure there'll all unarmed,
so that way they'll be allowed to pass through to Alpha Bay and do their
jobs."
     "Yes sir."
     Adama turned back to Tigh, "Are there any units of Elite Squadron
stationed aboard the Galactica right now?"
     "I'd have to check the duty roster, but I believe Major Croft is
aboard."
     "Get him up here.  And have all other members attached to his unit,
including those who are also in Colonial Security, report to Flight
Operations to await further orders."
     "Yes sir," The executive officer moved off, leaving Adama and Tinia
alone staring at each other.
     Finally, Tinia broke the silence, "What are you waiting for, Adama? 
My resignation from the Council like Uri had to do after Carillon?  The
rest of us too except for Anton and Antipas?"
     "The repercussions of this incident can be dealt with later, Siress
Tinia," Adama said.  "For now, I only want you to offer any advice that
you think might be helpful.  The fact that your...judgment has not been
exceptionally well with regard to recent matters is not something I would
ever hold against you, if there is sound advice to be given."
     She slowly nodded, "Of course.  But...for now I think I should keep
deferring to what you and your...warriors decide on."
     "Of course," Adama nodded as he turned away from her again, and
contemplated the magnitude of what had happened.  His point had been made
at what conceivably would be far too high a price worth paying.  The
thought of seeing Baltar free himself from captivity at gunpoint carried
with it, a feeling of injustice that would be impossible to overcome if
he ever permitted that to happen.
     As far as he was concerned, he had no intention of letting Baltar
regain his freedom.  Not now.  Not ever.

          Chapter Five
     
     When Apollo and Starbuck reached Dr. Wilker's lab, they saw the
Electronics specialist standing outside in the corridor with an uneasy
expression.
     "The Commander told me you were coming down here..." he started
haltingly, and then stopped.
     "Yeah," Apollo said, trying to forget about all the bad feelings
that had passed between him and Wilker a sectan ago during the incident
with Michael and Sarah's ship.  "Can you have those centurions ready in a
centar?"
     "I...don't think that's going to be possible.  They're...not in
any shape to be put back together on such short notice."
     "Just what did you do with them?" Apollo demanded harshly.
     Wilker took a breath, "Captain, when they were turned over to me,
their power units were turned off so my staff could study them more
closely."
     "Then reactivate them, for sagan's sake!" Starbuck threw up his
arms.  "Centurions are the most basic model of all Cylons.  They can't be
that intricate."
     "That's where you're wrong, Lieutenant!" Wilker protested.  "In
order to understand a Cylon's basic programming, you have to get down to
the absolute core of their circuitry.  Well, that meant stripping it down
as far as we could go.  If we were successful in getting to their base
programming, then the potential for what we could do in the future is
endless!  We could actually override a Cylon's basic programming to kill
humans and turn them all against each other----,"
     "Doc, that's all well and good, but now isn't the time to go over
that!"  Apollo decided he wasn't going to show any more patience with the
scientist.  "All we care about is getting those two Cylons back so we can
present them to Baltar, because if he doesn't get them back, he's going
to kill every hostage on that shuttle."
     Wilker seemed to deflate.  "I'll show you just how impossible that
is." he then motioned them to enter his lab.
     As soon as the they were inside, Starbuck's mouth fell open when he
saw Wilker's assistant, Fairfax, hunched over a giant table where the two
Cylon centurions lay spread out.  Or at least what was left of them. 
Only their main bodies that emulated the human torso were intact.  Their
heads, arms and leg were totally disassembled and lying in orderly piles
next to the respective unit they belonged to.
     "Now do you understand?" Wilker sighed.
     Starbuck shook his head in amazement as he picked up the helmet of
one of the two disassembled Cylons, "You're harder on them than I am,
Doc."
     Apollo stared at them and then defiantly shook his head, "You took
them apart, you can put them back together again.  It's as simple as
that, Doctor."
     "In a centar?"  Wilker's eyes widened and he glanced over at his
assistant, "Fairfax, are you listening to this?  You've gone over these
more than I have, can we have them put back together again in one
centar?"
     "Impossible," Fairfax let out one of his perpetual sniffles, which
always made Starbuck wonder how it was possible for someone of such a
timid, whiny disposition to be the nephew and namesake of the Battlestar
Columbia's commander.  "It took us eight centars just to get them down to
this state!"
     "Look you two, I don't care how you do it, just get off your astrums
and start reassembling them.  Now!"  Apollo barked.  
     "If it's any consolation, we'll help you do it, even if it goes
against our basic programming to do the opposite of blowing them apart,"
Starbuck said as he abruptly dropped the helmet to the ground where it
gave out a loud clatter.  He sheepishly picked it up.  "I'm ready to get
started."
     Wilker slumped his shoulders in defeat as he looked over at a tense
Fairfax.  The electronics scientist finally nodded in agreement.


     "Major Croft reporting for duty, sir."
     Adama turned around for his first look at the one-time prisoner who
had received a full pardon after his help in destroying the Ravashol
pulsar weapon on the ice planet.  Croft had been restored to active duty
and placed in command of an Elite unit of warriors who would handle
difficult assault missions on planetary expeditions.  But now, their
first mission would be for something that would not even take place on a
planet.
     He noticed how since regaining his freedom, Croft had put on some
weight that had fleshed out his body back to a normal build.  His hair
was a bit grayer and his expression more hardened.  The reports he'd
gotten on Croft had indicated a man who had thrown himself back into his
duties with a model of pure professionalism.  From a personal standpoint,
Croft was said to be somewhat aloof and unapproachable, and not one given
to friendly interaction with those he commanded or served with.  Whether
that was a lingering carryover from his days of being a prisoner, or
whether that was a scar he'd taken back from the ice planet when he'd
seen his estranged wife Leda gunned down before his eyes, would probably
never be known.  Whatever the case, Croft had become as a freed man, even
more of an enigma than he'd ever been.
     "Thank you for coming, Major," Adama said.  "Colonel Tigh informs me
that there are nine members of your division aboard the Galactica."
     "Yes, five from Colonial Security who have been detached from their
current duties and are now with the others in Flight Operations."
     "Good.  That means in total your unit would outnumber all of the
escaped prisoners, who total no more than eight."  He paused, "I have
already made my decision that we will not be acceding to Baltar's
demands.  That means it's a question of finding the right time to move on
the landing bay before he has a chance to blow the charges on the
shuttle."
     Croft glanced at the monitor on Adama's console which showed the
Alliance destroyer being moved into the landing bay.
     "The plan is for the prisoners to scatter to their own ships before
they all launch?  None of them will still be on the shuttle to keep an
eye on the hostages?"
     "That's our understanding," Adama nodded, "The Nomen will evidently
be on the Alliance Destroyer.  Obviously, they realize that if one of
them is still on the shuttle, that minimizes the likelihood of the
detonator being blown, since none of them would want to be a sacrificial
animal."
     "Commander," Tigh said, "Baltar's fighter is now in place.  The
launch crews have all been allowed to make safe exit from Alpha Bay."
     "Good," the Commander nodded and turned back to Croft.  "All right,
Croft.  If we have your team storm Alpha Bay from the center point, where
you would be charging straight at the Alliance destroyer in between the
shuttle and the fighter, when would be the optimum time to move?"
     "That's easy," Croft said, "When the escaped prisoners all leave the
shuttle and head for their own ships.  They would all have to be out in
the open to get to their ships and thus, be clear targets."
     Adama nodded, "Baltar is the key since he'll be the one holding the
detonator.  I do want this understood, Major.  Baltar is to be taken
alive.  I don't want him or any of the other escaped prisoners killed. 
Your weapons are to be set at a maximum stun setting to free you in terms
of where you can aim at them, but any person who has their laser on a
kill setting in this operation will face immediate court martial before a
military tribunal."
     "Understood," the one-time prisoner nodded.  "But even if we take
Baltar out, there's the possibility he'll have time to press the trigger
or if he even drops it, that could set the charges off."
     "That's a risk we're going to have to take," Adama then turned back
to the Executive Officer, "What about Chief Shadrach's demolition unit?"
     "A team of six just reported to the compartment adjacent to Alpha
Bay," Tigh said.  "They would be prepared to follow Croft's team in and
act at top speed to disarm the charges.  They believe it can be
accomplished in as little as thirty microns to one centon tops."
     "That means if Baltar isn't taken out in the initial storming of the
bay, he would have that much time to be able to set the charges off and
kill the hostages," Tinia spoke up for the first time, deciding that she
had to pick and carefully choose her opportunities to speak.
     "Yes," Adama conceded.  "A risk that must be taken."
     "Commander, I agree with you," Tinia said.  "I'm not stupid.  I know
that Baltar has no intention of releasing those hostages.  He'll either
detonate them once he reaches Lunar Seven, or else he'll force them to
land on the planet and keep them as hostages permanently, especially if
he still harbors hopes that the Cylon Empire will come into this system
one day and rescue him.  If he has seven members of the Council and two
warriors at his disposal, that's going to be more than he'll need to get
back into the Cylons good graces after he was captured, and maybe even
enough to convince the Cylons to make friends with the Eastern Alliance
as a whole.."
     The Commander was impressed by her insight.  "Then I am to assume
that I have your full backing no matter what happens?"
     "You have it, Adama."  She paused, "What are the odds of success
based on computer analysis?"
     "That depends on how stunned Baltar is by the attack," Tigh said,
all of his anger toward Tinia gone now, "He'll have to take cover to
avoid getting hit, and that might delay him from remembering he has the
detonator.  But...as far as the odds go, the best estimate from the
computer is about 70-30 in his favor."
     Adama let out a grunt, "Seemingly long odds, Colonel, but much
better than zero, which is precisely why we have to take the chance."  He
turned back to Croft, "Get your men in place, Major, and stand by for my
signal."
     "Yes sir," Croft nodded and left the Bridge at a quick pace.

     
     For the last half-centar, Leiter's three-man crew had been
patrolling the area outside the shuttle hatch, to make sure no warrior
units would be storming the landing bay.  With the solonite charges in
place alongside the shuttle, it was no longer necessary to have all of
them watching the disarmed prisoners at all times.
     Inside the shuttle, Baltar and the Nomen maintained vigil.  The
three Borellians forming enough of a protective shield around the traitor
that could safely discourage any of the hostages from thinking of
charging the traitor and getting the detonator away from him.
     "Well Baltar," Leiter said as he stepped back inside the shuttle
after conferring with his men.  "All is proceeding.  My ship is in place,
as is yours."
     "Much simpler than you expected, no doubt," Baltar allowed himself a
chuckle.  
     "If anything, too simple," Leiter said haughtily, "This Commander
Adama amazes me, that he'd actually let us go just to save a few very
insignificant lives."
     "Adama has that air of soft weakness that makes him think too much
of individual lives," Baltar said, "He is prepared to sacrifice much, if
that can result in no loss of life."
     Leiter shook his head, "I still have my doubts."
     "As do I," Maga spoke up, "Baltar, I seriously think you have
forgotten something when it comes to judging Adama.  Something that will
make him do all in his power to prevent us from escaping."
     "Maga," Baltar said coldly, "Adama has no choice.  He has to let us
go."
     "Then you are as a big a fool now as you were when you made your
foolhardy attempt to storm the Bridge," the lead Nomen's voice edged with
contempt.  "Adama will attack us when we are moving to our ships.  When
the shuttle is unguarded."
     "Yes," the Alliance commander slowly nodded in understanding,
"Precisely what I would do."
     "And risk slaughtering the hostages?" Baltar scoffed, "Adama doesn't
want the blood of seven members of the Council on his conscience.  Not
when that has the potential to generate an uproar of epic proportions
among the rest of the Colonial population."
     "Baltar," Maga interrupted coldly, "Adama already knows that you
have no intention of releasing the hostages."
     "What?" Baltar was jolted by this, "What are you talking about?  Of
course, I'll let them go.  Once we're safe on Lunar Seven at the Alliance
base."
     "Whether you intend to or not, isn't relevant, Baltar," Leiter said,
"What's more important is whether Adama believes you will release them. 
Our entire escape depends on that."  He paused, "And in my short time
among your people, Baltar, I've learned that there is a very good reason
why you are the last person Adama should think would ever keep his word
about anything."
     For the first time an uneasy feeling was going through the traitor. 
It never occurred to him that just like before at Kobol, when Adama had
rejected a sincere offer to strike back against the Cylons, that this
time that perpetual refusal to trust Baltar again would disrupt the
traitor's plans to be free.
     "But..." he fumbled for words, "What if he doesn't believe me?"
     "Then prepare to die," Maga said, "As simple as that."
     As Leiter stepped outside to confer with his fellow Enforcers,
Baltar suddenly felt a wave of paranoia and fear surging through his
entire body.
     He has to believe me, his mind said over and over.  He has to
believe me.  I can't let him thwart me again!

     
     "Croft's team has moved out and taken up position," Tigh said.  
     "Good," Adama checked his wrist chronometer.  "We're down to fifteen
centons and no word from Wilker.  Put me through on direct vid-com to his
lab, now!"
     "Transferring."
     An instant later, Adama saw his son's face on the screen, "Apollo's
what's happening down there."
     "Father, it's no good," his son said above a loud clattering sound,
as well as the whining drone of what Adama knew was a welding device. 
"There's no way we can have those centurions back together in time."
     "Apollo, that's not acceptable," Adama said, "If Baltar doesn't have
his centurions back then he won't move to his ship."
     "We need more time, Father," Apollo's voice sounded desperate.  "You
have to get Baltar to extend the deadline."
     Adama slowly exhaled, "Stand by.  In the meantime, keep working on
those centurions."  He then turned back to Omega, "Is the scrambler off
on the shuttle com-line?"
     "Yes sir."
     "Good, give me a direct tie-in."
     "Commander?" Tigh came up to him with concern, "What do you plan on
doing?"
     "Taking a desperate gamble to try and ensure the mission's success."


     The uneasiness inside Baltar only increased with each passing
micron.  So much so, that he finally decided he had to make a bold
statement to his hostages.  Slowly, he pushed himself past the three
Nomen so that he could face all of the seven members of the Council who
were aboard.  Many of them people he'd known for yahrens in his other
life, so long ago, as a well-established Pisceran trader and later the
Pisceran delegate to the Council of Twelve.
     "All of you listen to me," right away everyone noticed how the easy
swagger was gone from his voice.  "I give you my word as one who served
on the same body you serve on now, that upon completion of my demands,
you will not be harmed.  I have no desire to maintain you as hostages on
Lunar Seven, nor do I have any desire to kill you once I am free.  It is
not in my interest to ultimately kill you for no reason.  Do you all
believe me?"
     There was no response from any of them at first, most of them
looking at him uneasily, or with mixtures of bewilderment and disgust. 
Finally, Baltar made his way up to Domra and grabbed him by the shoulder.
     "Domra, we've known each other for fifteen yahrens!  Don't you
believe me?"
     The Councillor was shaking, part from fear and part from revulsion
at feeling Baltar touch him, "Yes, yes of course!  Of course!"
     He let go of him and looked at the other members, "And you!  Geller! 
Montrose!  You know me as well, you understand how I...." he trailed
off and shook his head.
     "Guess what, Baltar?  I don't!" 
     Baltar whipped his head around and saw an angry Boomer glaring
contemptuously at him.  Sheba stood alongside him, her expression
identical.
     "Nor I," she said.  "If we can't trust you to bring peace from the
Cylons, why should any of us ever trust you now."
     Baltar made his way forward, an almost stunned look on his face,
"You *have* to believe me!  Don't you understand?  I don't want revenge
on any of you, I just want my freedom back!"
     Boomer then suddenly laughed, "This is priceless!  We're the
hostages, and yet you're the one who seems more afraid!  I just guess
you're living down to your reputation."
     "Like that time you weren't willing to take on my father's challenge
and had the other two baseships do the work for you," Sheba decided to
get the one word in she'd always wanted to say to his face.
     "I----," he abruptly stopped when he heard the sound of the vid-com
activate.  He turned and saw Adama staring back at him.  His expression
totally conciliatory.
     "Baltar," Adama said gently, "We need more time to accommodate your
demands."
     The traitor glared back at him, "For what?  To attack me?  Perhaps
while I'm in the act of moving to my ship?"
     There was no reaction from Adama on that point.  "No, Baltar.  It's
a simple matter of reactivating your centurions.  You understand that it
was not practical to keep them functioning all this time."
     "Oh, of course," Baltar nodded sarcastically, "Adama, you are lying. 
You're plotting to attack me."
     "Baltar, we just need more time to meet your demands," Adama kept
his expression constant.
     "No!" Baltar said loudly and emphatically.  "Not a micron more!  You
have ten centons to accommodate my deadline."
     "Baltar," the commander took a breath, "I am prepared to offer
myself as an additional hostage, in exchange for one more centar."
     "What?" the traitor whispered in disbelief.  "Did I hear you right?"
     "You did," Adama said, "Take me as a hostage for one additional
centar."
     Baltar glanced back at Maga who was motioning outside for Leiter to
come back in.  As soon as the Alliance commander was back inside, the
traitor blurted, "Adama's offering himself as a hostage if we extend the
deadline another centar."
     "Another what?" Leiter frowned, "Don't any of you people know how to
tell time correctly?"
     "An equal amount of time since the deadline was first imposed," Maga
said coldly.
     "Ah," Leiter nodded.
     "I say, do it," Maga was emphatic.
     "Yes," the Alliance commander nodded, "If we have Adama, they might
have second thoughts about attacking us."
     "Yes," Baltar nodded slowly, "Yes, they might."  He went back to the
front so he could resume his conversation.  "Very well, Adama.  One more
centar in exchange for you."
     Adama allowed himself a thin smile, "Thank you."
     Baltar returned it, "You're welcome."  The traitor then turned off
the vid-com, and feeling his old sense of swagger back, smirked at
Boomer.
     "Not so funny now, is it Lieutenant?"
     He then made his way to the back of the shuttle to rejoin Leiter and
Maga.



     "Adama," Tigh grabbed him by the arm as soon as the transmission
with Baltar was over.  "You can't do this!"
     "It has to be done to let our plan succeed, Tigh," Adama was
emphatic.  "The micron the Cylons are in the landing bay, Baltar and the
others will move to their ships.  Then I'll be able to contact you from
the shuttle on Beta Channel and give you the signal to have Croft's team
move in."
     "Adama, this is suicide on your part!  Foolish suicide!" the
executive officer decided he wasn't going to allow for pleasantries or
formalities.
     "Thirty percent chance of success is not suicide, Colonel," Adama
kept his tone calm.  "When the team moves in, I'll alert the others and
evacuate the shuttle as rapidly as possible."
     "Adama," Tigh wasn't letting up, "Suppose Baltar decides to take you
in his fighter?  Or has the Alliance take you in their destroyer?"
     "Adama's he's right," Tinia knew now was the time to speak up. 
"That's why..." she hesitated for a brief instant but then plowed ahead,
"That's why it will be wise for you to take me along as an additional
hostage."
     "No," Adama shook his head. 
     "Adama, the Colonel's point has to be factored in!  You're so
valuable a hostage, plus Baltar has more of a personal grudge with you,
that he's bound to treat you differently.  Me, I'm just another member of
the lowly Council who can be tossed in with the others, and if that
happens I can at least fill them in on your plan and get them to safety
when the team moves.  It's quite logical."
     "Logical suicide on your part, Siress Tinia."
     "Just as it is for you, Adama!" Tigh was almost shouting, and now
everyone else on the Bridge was looking up at them.  
     "Thirty percent odds for us both, Adama," Tinia said.  "And we
haven't time to debate this issue any longer, do we?"
     Adama let out a defeated sigh, "No, I suppose not.  Very well."  He
then turned away and through his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight
of his daughter, still seated at her terminal, but looking up at him with
a very troubled expression.
     Dear Lords of Kobol, he thought, as he realized that he'd just
subjected Athena to a sight that had to be indescribably painful for her. 
He took a breath and gently motioned her to come up to the railing so he
could speak to her.
     Slowly, his daughter made his way over.  Her expression indicating
the inner struggle she was going through.
     "Athena," he said tenderly, "If...anything goes wrong, then I want
you to tell Apollo...and Boxey, that there was no other way." he paused,
"You understand, don't you?"
     "No I don't," Athena shook her head, "But...it's ultimately your
call.  I...have to respect that."
     Her father nodded and leaned closer so he could whisper softly to
her, "Have faith, Athena.  I...know that's not a subject you like to
talk about, but...it still can help at times like this."
     He quickly squeezed her hand and then moved away, leaving the Bridge
with Tigh and Tinia following.
     Athena let out a sigh.  As far as she was concerned, the Destruction
and the death of Zac and her mother had made it impossible for her to
ever have faith in God or the Lords again.  But when it came to her
father, she knew she still had endless faith in him.
     Don't let me down, she thought as she went back to her station.

     
     Centons passed, and in quick order the disassembled machinery had
begun to resemble a centurion once again.  Finally, Apollo and Starbuck
had lifted the reassembled Cylon back to its feet and waited for Wilker
to hit the switch that would turn the power units back on.
     "Doc," Starbuck said, "Something just occurred to me.  When a
computer has been shut down for a long period, it takes time for its
basic ability to function to kick back in.  How in Hades are either of
these Cylons going to be able to fly Baltar's fighter after they've been
off so long?"
     "We've never turned them back on since we got them, Lieutenant, so
we don't know what idle time does to their basic functioning and
mobility."
     "Then I guess we're going to find out," Apollo said anxiously,
"Okay, Doc, hit it."
     The scientist nodded and activated the switch.  Five microns passed,
and then the red light in the Cylon's faceplate suddenly came on, and
slowly began to move back and forth in that familiar sounding whirring
motion.  Apollo and Starbuck also noticed how the centurion immediately
relaxed into a normal posture.
     "Well, so far so good." Wilker said aloud.  "Centurion. 
Acknowledge."
     "By your command," it spoke in that familiar sounding drone.
     "Do you remember where you are, centurion?"
     "I am part of the escort for Commander Baltar to the Galactica.  He
had asked to be brought aboard under a sign of truce."
     "Yes," Wilker nodded, "Yes, that's correct."
     "Memory's still intact," Starbuck whispered to Apollo.  "Guess
they're programmed to be idle for long periods if necessary."
     "Yeah, but not in the condition Wilker's had them in."  His friend
whispered back.
     "Centurion," Wilker went on, "Baltar's mission aboard the Galactica
is over.  He requests your presence to fly him back to his next
assignment.  Are you prepared to do this?"
     "I am prepared."
     "Very well.  But before we release you to the landing bay, we need
to make sure of just a few things."  He paused and cocked his head, "Turn
on the scanner on that bench."
     The centurion nodded its head and moved toward the worktable where
Fairfax had set up a piece of old equipment.  Its steps toward it were
slow and measured.
     "Come on," Apollo found himself murmuring, "You can do it.  Show us
you can still perform basic functions."
     Starbuck shook his head in amazement, "Never thought I'd see the day
where we were rooting for a Cylon."
     Finally, the centurion reached the table, and seemingly stared at
the computer terminal for microns.  And then, his gloved hand crashed
into the machinery and began to hit it repeatedly in a punching motion,
breaking the terminal and causing several short circuits.
     "Just what I was afraid of," Wilker said aloud, "Disassembling them
and putting them back together on short notice has fouled up their basic
response stimuli.  The memory's intact, but the functioning mode is
totally off.  He'll never fly in a million yahrens this way."
     "Frack," Starbuck shook his head, "And when Baltar realizes that his
Cylons can't fly he'll change his plans and probably blow up the shuttle
from Leiter's destroyer."
     Apollo said nothing.  His hand was on his chin in deep contemplation
as he continued to watch the centurion's hand repeatedly smash the broken
terminal.
     "Captain, I can keep trying but with the time we've got left, I
wouldn't expect a miracle."
     "Wait," the black-haired captain held up his hand,   "I've got a
better idea.  Have the computer run the odds on something and if they're
good, we'll try a new tact."
     "New tact?" Starbuck frowned, "What do you have in mind?"
     "Something unexpected," he then grinned at his friend, "I'm going to
borrow a page from you and make a loaded deck of cards."


     Adama and Tinia took the turbo lift down from the Bridge level to
the landing bay where they saw a near deserted tarmac before them.  But
when they stepped off and moved only a few steps, two of Leiter's men
stepped out with guns raised.
     "This way, Commander," Krebs said, motioning them to move toward the
shuttle.  When they reached the hatch, they saw Baltar standing in the
entryway with a smug smile.
     "Well Adama, how nice of you to join us.  And Siress Tinia as well. 
What an unexpected bonus.  I believe that means there are now all but
three of you aboard as far as the full Council membership is concerned."
     "I want to check on the condition of my people," Adama said in the
cool, diplomatic voice he had long ago learned to master.
     "Of course," Baltar smiled, "Anything you say, old friend.  But
after you have been properly searched."  He snapped his fingers at the
two Enforcers who did a routine frisking of the two of them.  Finding
nothing, Baltar then cocked his head forward and motioned them inside.
     Once they were aboard, there was a brief stir from the other Council
members, as well as an uneasy expression on Boomer and Sheba, but no
words were spoken as Adama and Tinia took two empty seats among the
others.
     Finally, Domra broke the silence, "Adama," he said, "You'll be
interested to know that since a quorum of the Council is present, we
declared the body to be in session.  A unanimous vote was reached to
cancel our measure of the previous cycle and restore the Carillon statute
concerning the Fleet's status of Martial Law."  He paused and smiled, "I
do believe that Sires Anton and Antipas will not object regarding their
missed opportunity to vote on this."
     "I think not," Adama managed to smile back.
     "We've learned a painful lesson, Adama," Domra said.  "I still hope
for a day when Council control of the Fleet can happen, but...not under
circumstances such as these have been."
     "All of us must learn some painful lessons in this plight we find
ourselves in, whether we be part of the military or the civilian
populace, Domra," the last thing Adama intended to do was gloat.  Not
when there was a more important matter to consider.
     He glanced at his wrist chronometer.  Less than ten centons before
it would be time for Croft's men to move in with the assault.

     On the Bridge, Tigh found himself anxiously pacing back and forth,
and checking his wrist chronometer every few centons.  There had still
been no word from Wilker's lab concerning the status of the two
centurions, and the entire plan depended on their availability.
     "Colonel, message from Dr. Wilker," Omega said.
     "Finally!" Tigh reached over and switched on the vid-com console. 
He could see the two Cylons standing upright in the background and Wilker
in the foreground.  
     "Colonel, I think we're ready," the scientist said hesitantly.
     "You *think*?  Doctor, we're less than ten centons from the
deadline.  I need more than that!"
     Just then, Apollo moved into the picture, "Colonel, listen to me. 
You have to call off the attack."
     "Apollo, what are you talking about?" Tigh now wondered what other
sudden shocks and surprises he was in for.  "Croft's team is in place and
ready to move."
     "Colonel, trust me, calling off the attack is the only way we can
save all of them!  Not only that, you have to order Adama to have the
shuttle launched as scheduled."
     "Adama has personally ordered the assault, Captain.  I can not defy
him."
     "He's left you in command, Colonel!" Apollo shot back.  It had been
difficult for him at first to handle the news that his father had offered
himself as a hostage, especially when he also had been concerned over the
safety of Sheba and Boomer.  But now, he had to take advantage of the
fact that Tigh was now in technical command.  "Sir, I don't have time to
explain, but please, by all the Lords, call off the attack and have the
shuttle launch!  I'll only say that we've computed a scenario with better
odds than the one you're going with right now.  If it fails, I will
personally take responsibility for what happens, and so will Lieutenant
Starbuck!"
     "No you won't, Apollo!" Tigh shouted back, "Any command decisions I
make, the responsibility falls with me, and me alone!  Is that
understood?"
     "Yes sir, fine sir," Apollo nodded rapidly, "But what is your
decision, sir?  Do you call off the attack and give them a chance to
live, or attack and run a greater risk of the hostages being killed?"
     Tigh felt the exasperation inside him reach a breaking point.  He
slammed his fist against the side of Omega's chair, and knew that for the
first time he had to make a command decision of major importance.  One
that had to be made right now.


     Five centons later, Apollo and Starbuck stepped off the turbo lift
that brought them to a compartment outside the center portion of the
landing bay with the two centurions trailing behind them.  The first
thing they noticed right away was the sight of Croft's entire unit of ten
Elite Squadron warriors, dressed in their dark assault uniforms and with
their special laser guns at the ready.
     "Croft," Apollo said hurriedly, "Tell your men to stand down. 
Orders from Colonel Tigh are to call off the attack."
     "Call off?" Croft's twisted in disbelief, "What are you talking
about?  We're all set to go."
     "Change in plans.  And I have no time to explain," he glanced over
and recognized Sergeant Castor from Colonial Security, who was also part
of the Elite Squadron.  "Castor, get over here.  Take off your assault
jacket and escort those two Cylons in so they can get clear passage to
Baltar's fighter!  The rest of you fall back out of sight when that door
opens!"
     Croft shook his head in frustration.  He had been looking forward to
his first chance at commanding his unit.  But the last thing he was going
to do was stain the clean record he'd won back at such great cost to
himself.
     "You heard him, move back!" he motioned.  "Out of sight!"
     Eight of the other nine, with some grumbling amongst themselves
disappeared down the corridor, while Castor rapidly stripped off his
assault jacket revealing his regular Colonial uniform underneath.
     "Okay," Apollo said, "We'll drop out of sight until they're in the
fighter.  But then...when I say so, I want the four of us to be prepared
to move in."
     "The four of us?" Croft's confusion deepened.  "What are you talking
about?  Just what are you planning on?"
     "Follow my lead, Croft," Apollo said, "Just follow."


     Taba and Bora both strolled across the tarmac back to the shuttle
entrance.  "The two Cylon pilots have arrived and are proceeding to the
fighter," Bora said.
     "Excellent," Baltar said, feeling relief at the news. 
     "Are you ready, Baltar?" Maga asked.
     The traitor pulled out the detonator in plain view once again.
     "Then it's time," Leiter said and motioned to the Nomen, "Gentlemen,
you will accommodate yourselves aboard our destroyer."
     Maga glanced at Leiter, "Of course." and then walked away.
     Leiter felt an uneasy feeling go through him.  He hadn't had much
opportunity to learn just what it was about these so-called Nomen that
made them so different from the ordinary human, but he was beginning to
suspect that for the long-term, it wasn't going to be a good idea to keep
them in his presence.
     But that would be something he would deal with later.
     "Well, Baltar," Leiter turned to the traitor, "It has been a
most...interesting experience.  I'm sure the Alliance Central Committee
will wish to learn more from you."
     "I'm sure," Baltar smiled, "Until later, Commandant, when we are all
safely at Lunar Seven."
     Leiter then turned and followed the Nomen out to the nearby
destroyer.  Baltar turned back to face the hostages one last time.
     "Launch the instant we are off this ship.  Remember what I'm
holding,"  He flashed the detonator at them one last time and then
disappeared out the hatch in the direction of the shuttle.
      As soon as they were off, and Boomer had automatically closed the
hatch, the hostages now realized they were all alone.  An uneasy chorus
of "Launch!" went up from some of them.  Soon, the Council security
officers who'd been kept prisoner all this time were joining in as well.
     "Launch!" Valeri shouted the loudest, "You heard him, Boomer,
launch!"
     "Adama, what's happening?" Sire Montrose shouted above the din. 
"You have some plan don't you?"
     Adama ignored him and rapidly moved up to the cockpit, "Boomer, get
me Colonel Tigh on Beta Channel!  Now!"
     "Adama!" Montrose shouted again.

     "Silence!" Adama turned back and shouted.  "Elite Squadron will be
attacking the landing bay in a matter of microns.  Prepare to evacuate as
rapidly as possible!  The instant I give the signal, the hatch will open
and we're to get out!"
     "They'll blow us up," Domra whispered, and now wondered if he'd made
a premature decision with the recent vote.
     "No," Tinia shook her head vigorously, "It's the only chance we
have."
     "Commander," Boomer said, "I have Colonel Tigh now."
     Adama looked down and when he saw the executive officer's face,
noticed that there was something odd in his expression.
     "Colonel----," 
     "Adama," Tigh rapidly cut him off, "No time to explain.  Launch at
once!  I repeat, launch at once!!!"
     "What?" Adama was baffled, "It won't work, whatever you're
planning!"
     "Adama, I AM IN COMMAND!" Tigh raised his voice to the highest
level, "LAUNCH!!"
     The forceful tone of voice immediately told Adama that a dramatic
change had happened since he'd come aboard.  And he knew that he had to
trust his friend's instincts.
     "Commander?" Boomer looked up.
     Adama motioned his hand in the affirmative and rapidly took his seat
in the passenger section.
     Boomer and Sheba fired up the engines and the shuttle began to move
down the tarmac toward the open maw of the landing bay exit.  Microns
later, it had left the Galactica and begun to climb rapidly.


     Behind them, Leiter, his crew and the Nomen all secured themselves
inside the destroyer.
     "The shuttle is moving to take off," Krebs reported.
     "Good!" Leiter said with smug satisfaction.  "Start all engines, and
prepare to launch!"
     "Shuttle is away."
     "Launch!"
     The engines of the destroyer then fired up and soon the Alliance
ship was freed from its sectan long confinement aboard the Galactica.


     When Baltar entered his fighter, he noticed the two centurions at
their familiar places in the pilot seats.  "Centurions, you know who I
am?"  He knew he had to test their memory.
     "You are Commander Baltar." the one in the right seat said.
     "You serve me, do you not, centurions?"
     "We serve you and the Cylon Empire," the other responded.
     "Who is my second in command?" he knew this test would prove once
and for all that their memory banks remained intact, and had not been
altered.
     "Sub-Commander Lucifer is your second in command." the first one
spoke.
     "And what series does he belong to?"
     "The IL class."
     Excellent.  They have been fully restored.  Baltar sat down in the
command pilot's chair, from which no actual flying of the craft was done,
and trained his eye on the shuttle, which at that instant had launched
and cleared the landing bay.
     "It's working," he whispered, "I've done it."
     He kept his hand on the detonator as he watched the Alliance
destroyer move into launch position and then, saw it take off.  
     "At last," he said more loudly, "At last!  Centurions!  Launch!"
     "By your command."
     Abruptly, the gloved hand of the lead centurion smashed itself into
the control console of the fighter, causing all of the active equipment
to come to a grinding hat.
     "What the----," Baltar shielded his eyes from the sparks, as he felt
a level of stunned disbelief that he'd only felt two other times before. 
First, when he'd realized the Cylons had double-crossed him and destroyed
his home colony.  The second time, when this very centurion had turned to
him and told him to have a good look at another battlestar, which had
turned out to be the Pegasus.  And now....
     As he shielded his eyes from the sparks and tried to collect
himself, he suddenly felt two powerful arms grab him from behind, one of
them pulling the detonator out of his hand.  He looked up and saw the
faces of both Apollo and Starbuck.
     "No!"  He shouted, "No!  Not you two again!"
     Baltar suddenly bolted up from his chair and managed to deliver his
right elbow into Starbuck's mid-section, sending the blonde warrior
staggering.  At the same time, he managed to shake himself loose from
Apollo's grip and dashed toward the open hatch below.
     "Going somewhere, Baltar?"
     He stopped and saw Croft and Castor standing at the bottom of the
hatch with pistols trained at him.  Slowly, he sagged his shoulders in
defeat and threw up his hands.  
     And then, the traitor sat down on the hatchway steps and began to
laugh.  The loud, helpless laughter of one who had temporarily left the
realm of sanity.


     "Adama, situation is secure.  You can return to the Galactica
through Beta Landing Bay."
     "Thank you, Colonel," Adama radioed back, "I trust, you'll have a
full explanation of this."
     "Of course." he nodded, "Shall I instruct Silver Spar to intercept
the Destroyer and bring it back?"
     "Negative," Adama said, "But have them track it for as far as it
goes.  It'll be important to find out just how much strength they have on
their Lunar Seven base, and how much strength the Alliance as a whole
has."
     "Affirmative.  Demolition team will be there to remove charges once
you're aboard."


     Apollo and Starbuck waited for Croft and Castor to haul Baltar away
before they finally descended the steps of the hatch.  Both of them found
themselves in a strangely subdued frame of mind.
     "You know something," Starbuck said, "I think we underestimated
Baltar's physical strength.  I wasn't expecting that sharp blow he gave
me."  He then looked down at the detonator.  "I almost dropped this thing
to the floor, and if that had happened, the charges would have gone off."
     "Well look at it this way, Starbuck," Apollo said, trying to recover
his emotions, but at the same time knowing that the risk they'd taken had
nearly taken a disastrous turn.  "We still came out with a winning hand. 
That's all that counts."
     "I guess so," he sighed as they slowly made their way back across
the empty tarmac.  Too spent to say anything else.

          Epilogue

     Several centars later, Apollo and Starbuck were both explaining what
had happened to Boomer and Sheba over drinks in the Officers Club.  
     "Once we realized the Cylons couldn't fly, it stood to figure that
Baltar would either start killing the hostages, or else he'd move to the
Destroyer and make himself less of a target once the assault team would
have gone in.  So we had to make him think they could fly and get him in
a secure frame of mind, while he watched the shuttle and the destroyer
take off.  He'd be safely tucked inside his fighter with his two
centurions, convinced he was home free, so that would mean he'd be
letting his guard down for a pretty big emotional shock once the
centurion smashed up the console."  Apollo allowed himself a weak smile,
"Computer actually figured a nine-to-one success ratio for nabbing him."
     "But didn't factor that one other element," Sheba noted, finding it
ironic how once again Apollo's blind faith in his own ability was making
him take what seemed to be so many needless risks.
     "True," Starbuck said, "But...that was really my fault.  Once I had
the detonator, I should have let go of him, since we already had Castor
and Croft waiting in case he wriggled free."
     "All right then," Boomer said as he downed his tankard, "In that
case, Bucko, the bill for this round of drinks goes entirely to you."
     His remark managed to break the tense air that had existed among
them, and they were all able to laugh easily.
     "At any rate, Baltar's earned himself a trip back to Solitary
Confinement.  So we won't be seeing anymore prison breaks from him in our
lifetimes at least."
     "Let him rot away and be forgotten for all time," Sheba said with
dry contempt.  "I got to be honest though, the one thing that's left a
bit of a bad taste in my mouth is that the Commander let Leiter and the
Nomen get away."
     "Deemed necessary to find out the level of strength the Alliance has
on Lunar Seven, which we'll know after we track them back there.  As for
the Nomen...well, yeah it's too bad we had to in effect let them go
since there's no chance at all we'll get them back after this,
but...frankly I think we're better off without them."
     "I don't know," Sheba shook her head, "The fact that they did
escape, could very well inspire some of the other Nomen who weren't part
of their little plot to seize the Borella to try something similar in the
future.  They can look at them as true martyrs to the cause of their
Borellian Nomen code."
     "Well, sometimes command decisions can be difficult." Apollo sighed
and the looked at her, "Just like the one we made."
     "Sure," she nodded.  "It's never easy."
     "Hey, what's the report on Charybdis?" Boomer asked.  "I heard he
took a pretty serious hit from you."
     "He's alive and he'll live, but Salik says he's stuck in a coma for
now since the laser caught him square in the temple.  The setting only
needed to be a tick higher and he'd have been dead, but standard
procedure meant Starbuck's pistol was on stun.  No telling when or if he
might ever come out of it."
     "As far as I'm concerned, he can stay that way forever," Starbuck
said, "Let him spend fifty yahrens asleep for the rest of his life."
     Just then, they noticed a relaxed Colonel Tigh enter the room. 
"Mind if I join you?" there was a new spring in the executive officer's
step.
     "Sure, go right ahead, Colonel," Starbuck motioned.  "Same for you
as last time?"
     "Actually, no," Tigh sat down and leaned back in his chair, "Now
that Siress Tinia is no longer intruding herself on the Bridge, there's
nothing left to drive me to drink.  Just a mild spring water is all I
need."
     "You mean if you had to keep seeing her hanging around, that would
drive you to drink again, Colonel?" Boomer asked wryly.
     "Maybe," Tigh shrugged.
     "Uh...well in that case, Colonel, ah..." Apollo motioned behind
him.  Everyone else turned around and saw Adama escorting Tinia into the
Club.  The Siress actually had her hand on Adama's arm as he seemed to be
giving her a friendly tour of the place.
     "Oh no," Tigh whispered, "He wouldn't do that to me, would he?"
     "I don't know," Apollo mused, "At least it isn't Belloby.  Now if it
were her, *that* would be giving me cause to take more to drink!"
     Sheba, Starbuck and Boomer all found themselves trying hard not to
laugh.
     "Bartender!" Tigh called over, "Double of what they're having here!"
     The other warriors didn't even bother holding back their laughter
this time.


     "Silver Spar Leader to Galactica Core Command," Bojay radioed,
"Alliance Destroyer is still in our long-range tracking sight.  We're
cutting back on power and will keep following them for the next ten
centars."
     "Affirmative, Silver Spar Leader," Rigel replied, "Blue Squadron
will relieve you at that time to continue tracking mission."
     "Skipper?" Jolly radioed, "How close do we get to them?"
     "No closer than we are now, Jolly," Bojay said.  "We're to keep
following them until we locate their base and get a chance to scan their
overall strength.  There'll be no engagement of them, so let's just
settle back and enjoy the ride."
     "The long boring ride, you mean," Cree said sourly. 
     "Well Cree, if you want the Fates to arrange for us to disappear
without a trace again," Bojay dryly retorted.
     "No, no, I'd rather be bored."
     "Good.  Just keep your eyes open for signs of other ships that
belong to their units."


     Aboard the Destroyer, there was a decidedly tense atmosphere as
Leiter kept his eye on the three passengers he was now hauling....and
feeling quite uncomfortable over the fact that there were only four men
overall to the three of them in case things were to get out of hand.
     He decided the time had come to lay down the rules to them.
     "Gentlemen," Leiter came up to the Nomen, "Now that we are free of
the Galactica, and now that it is clear that Baltar has been apprehended,
it is time you come to an understanding.  My authority, and that of the
Alliance is now supreme in all respects.  When we reach Lunar Seven, you
will be treated fairly, but only so long as you recognize who you serve
from now on."
     The three Nomen glared at him, and Maga abruptly rose from his seat.
     "We answer to no one but the Code," he said coldly.  "And we will
never recognize any authority higher than what our beliefs dictate."
     "All belief systems must in their due course submit to the
Alliance's authority!" Leiter snapped.  "That is the natural order of
things.  If you wish to remain in a state of freedom, you will submit to
that!"
     Maga took a step toward the commandant, "And if we refuse?"
     Leiter refused to be intimidated, "Then like all who dare try to
challenge the natural order, you will be destroyed!"
     Maga sat back down and glanced first at Bora, who in turn glanced at
Taba.  The three of them silently nodded in mutual understanding.
     Abruptly, Taba hurled his laser boles at the midsection of the
destroyer, where it exploded against a bulkhead pillar.  At the other
end, Krebs pulled out his laser pistol and shot the beardless Nomen right
in the face.  The two other crewmen pulled out their pistols and opened
fire as well.  Bora was hit on the second shot, but Maga managed to reach
out and grab Leiter by the neck, hurling him back against the bulkhead
wall.  Finally, one more shot from Krebs felled Maga.
     "Commandant?" he rushed over to Leiter, who was struggling back to
his feet.  "Are you okay?"
     "No!" Leiter flailed his arms, "I am not okay!  Are they dead?"
     "No, Commandant," the crewman named Sturber said.  "They
are...dazed, but they seem to be able to withstand more firepower than
the average man."
     "They are a greater menace than the Galactica itself," Leiter
haughtily retrieved his hat and placed it back on his head.  "While
they're still dazed, take them back and make a true example of them. 
They will learn what happens to those who think themselves above the
Alliance!"


     "Bojay," Jolly radioed, "The destroyer just took a funny turn. 
Speed is slackening a bit."
     "Keep an eye on it, but don't get close enough for visual contact. 
Any sign of other ships?"
     "Negative, that," Cree answered.  "She's slowing down a bit more. 
Boy, speed is down by half what it was."
     "Reduce speed so we can maintain distance," Silver Spar Leader said
cautiously.  "Keep attack computers off."
     "Bojay, now I'm getting new contacts on the scanner.  Right in her
wake."
     "Intensify scan on those objects.  Try to find out what they are. 
Jolly, keep your scanner trained on the destroyer's heading."
     "Skipper, I've...Holy Frack!" Cree blurted.
     "What is it?" Bojay demanded.
     "Skipper, they just jettisoned three bodies out their rear hatch! 
Scan confirms them as three bodies drifting in space."
     "Bodies?" Bojay could scarcely believe it.  "Okay...let's get a
visual ID on those.  But not until we make sure the destroyer will be out
of visual range too."
     Several centons went by before the three vipers moved in to take a
look.  When they got there, they saw the unmistakable forms of the three
Borellian Nomen floating dead in space for eternity.


     [To Be Continued in "Battlestar Galactica-Experiment In Terra"]
     
February 20, 2006