Best-Laid Schemes-An Empyrean Story
by Lisa Zaza
 
The best laid schemes of mice and men,
Go oft awry,
And leave us nought but grief and pain,
For promised joy.

Robert Burns

Chapter One

     When Ama, the Empyrean Necromancer, stood and spoke as a member of
the Council of the Twelve, it was with both an eloquence, as well as a
force of personality, that Adama had seldom seen in any bureautician,
especially a woman.  There was an internal strength and manner of purpose
to her that shone through, making her seem larger than life with a
confidence that was both enthralling and entertaining.  However, Adama
noticed it also distracted the listener from what she was actually
saying, even though he found himself nodding along in agreement anyways. 
It oft made him wonder if she was using some Empyrean powers of the mind
on them all, though he had always considered himself beyond such
manipulations.
     Now what was that she was saying...? 
     "The time is nigh that we unite fully as not only as the Twelve
Tribes and those under the protection of the Colonial Union, but as
brothers of man, my fellow Council Members.  One people moving forth to
our ultimate destiny, the planet Earth.  I propose that with this in mind
that we dedicate a thirteenth seat on our Council.  A seat honouring our
sister planet, and our future homeworld.  Our hopes, our dreams, indeed,
our very salvation.  A seat that would represent those that we would ask
for help and shelter, proving that we have both Earth's best interests in
mind, as well as our own.  This seat, I'm sure you will all agree-as
would his faithful friends and compatriots-could only be filled by one
man, Commander Mark Dayton of the Earth Space Shuttle Endeavour."
     "Ama, might I clarify, do you envision this seat giving Commander
Dayton the same privileges as other members of the Council, or would it
be more honorary in nature?" Adama asked her, feeling the need to take
his feet, as the woman remained standing on the far side of the Council
table to answer any interrogatives.
     "Well, I would suggest that if the purpose of this appointment is to
have the thirteenth tribe fully represented, as are the other twelve,
then it would be logical that Commander Dayton would not only be able to
participate and contribute, but to vote on issues of Council concern."
Ama returned rationally. "After all, until we reach Earth and the Cylons
are defeated utterly and for all time, the same hardships and dangers
threaten us all."
     "Quite so." Siress Tinia agreed, nodding thoughtfully.
     "Have you discussed the matter with Commander Dayton?" Adama asked,
despite knowing that she would never present it to Council unless she was
reasonably sure of Dayton's cooperation.  Some time back, when he had
casually overheard Starbuck discussing the matter in a more teasing
nature with the NASA Commander-though with Starbuck, one never knew-Adama
had thought him ambivalent and even resistant to the idea of actually
sitting in their government.  Of course, then the likelihood of that
happening was practically nonexistent. Perhaps Dayton's feelings had
changed?
     "Commander Dayton has advised me that, upon invitation from the
Council, he would seriously consider the great honour, should we choose
to bestow it on him" Ama inserted smoothly.  "He takes his responsibility
to his people seriously, as I'm sure anyone who has met him would attest
to."
     "My dear lady, traditionally throughout the yahrens, position on
Council has been justified through democratic representation of the
populace." Sire Anton inserted, choosing to stay seated.  "Commander
Dayton and his men only represent five individuals.  We are not even
certain that they're descendants of the thirteenth tribe."
     "A salient point, Sire Anton." Adama agreed, taking his seat again
as another voice lent support to his own position.  There were certain
advantages to having Dayton on Council in some kind of capacity, such as
keeping a close eye on the outspoken and now celebrated individual who
was not afraid to voice his opinions.  It would allow him to vent his
criticisms of military and bureaucratic decisions in an appropriate
forum, rather than in public on the IFB.  However, being a man who valued
tradition, Adama also felt that an official seat wasn't justified.
     "Yet, as Ama pointed out, we must begin to plan ahead, and to think
of Earth as a destination that must be valued and protected at all costs
if it is indeed going to be the home of future generations." Siress Tinia
offered.  "I believe if a Fleet of refugees landed on Earth's doorstep,
potentially with great technological advances over our brethren, that our
brothers on Earth might consider us to be more of a threat, than long
lost family."
     "Yes, I concede your point.  From some of their 'movies', the people
of Earth seem to be rather paranoid about an attack from 'outer space',
as they call it." Sire Domra added.  "Martians, Klingons, Flying
Saucers..." He shook his head in bemusement.  "They seemed rather
preoccupied with the potential threat of other planets and solar systems,
even those proven unable to sustain life as we know it."
     "It does make one wonder how we would be perceived," Ama agreed. 
"But if we could present our own..." She paused dramatically, eyes
turning towards the ceiling as if she was in thought.  "Our own Official
Earth Liaison Officer, it might ease the shock of our arrival.  I'm sure
it would be comforting to Earthmen to know that a respected and decorated
officer of the United States Armed Forces had some input in our eventual
arrival."
     "An Earth Liaison Officer." Adama stroked his chin thoughtfully,
realizing it would be an effective strategy with the best interests of
Earth and her people in mind.  "An honorary seat permitting Commander
Dayton to influence policy through participation in Council Meetings, but
not by direct vote."
     "Hear!  Hear!" Anton added.  "An acceptable compromise that would
illustrate that we took our responsibility to Earth seriously, and didn't
just expect that she would receive us with open arms." 
     Adama nodded, as he looked around the Council table.  The complexion
of Council had changed drastically with the death of Sire Dracus and the
election of some younger representatives to Council.  Several more
'self-serving' bureauticians, Sires Uri and Geller among them, had failed
to be re-elected, as had one or two blustering idiots-for lack of a more
'bureaucratically correct' phrase-Sire Geller specifically coming to
mind.  It was a clear message from the people that they were ready for a
change. Less did the Council concern themselves with honouring and
prolonging millennia old traditions, and more did they focus on their
future.
     And for the first time since the Destruction, the Council
unanimously agreed-at least for the time being-that their future was
Earth.


----------

   A blue and white planet, looking like the most exquisite, and rarest
of jewels, in the vastness of space.  
     Starbuck had no idea where that thought came from, and if any of
Blue Squadron heard him say it out loud, they'd claim he'd gone soft. 
But, then again, the most dashing and eligible male in the Fleet was
currently engaged to be sealed to an Empyrean Princess, so what the
frack...maybe it was true.
     In any case, Commander Adama had given clear and specific orders to
geotechnically scan this planet-the third of nine from the sun in this
solar system-within a centimetron of its core with every remote sensing
method and device at their disposal, all the while staying a respectable
distance from the surface.  Starbuck hadn't missed the inference, or the
way Adama's eyes had sparkled with excitement. This pretty hunk of rock
could very well be Earth.
     "Tell me again how we happen to be flying together.  I want to get
my story straight for when the Captain dresses us down." Luana chuckled
from her cockpit, as her computer began displaying data on the planet
they were sent to check out. Apollo had been endeavouring to keep them
apart on patrols since they had both returned to active duty, not wanting
their concentration affected by their concern for the other.  It was only
a matter of time before the Strike Captain made it official and
transferred either her or Starbuck out of Blue Squadron, and she had a
pretty good idea it wouldn't be Starbuck.  
     "It's just a routine patrol, Lu.  How much trouble can we get in?"
Starbuck chuckled when she snorted in return.  "Apollo broke his arm
playing hover-hockey with the Earthmen this morning.  He's in the Life
Station having it mended.  You were on standby. Somebody had to pull
patrol with me, and you had the least amount of cockpit time, and were
next up on the roster." Starbuck replied, hitting the switches that
transmitted his scans back to the Galactica in real-time.  So far, the
planet looked ideal for replenishing their supplies, and had the perfect
environment for Humans.  However, there was a conspicuous absence of
anything that could be considered 'civilized' life down there.  Not a
single Human to be identified among the many life signs that were
generally animal at a quick glance. He tightened his orbit of the planet,
and concentrated his scanners on a heavily forested area in the northern
temperate zone. Lu did the same, altering her own orbit to similarly scan
another part of the single continental landmass, this one covered in
semi-desert terrain. Starbuck swallowed down that hope that he had only
allowed to rise ever so slightly, while awaiting the results of their
surveys. Truthfully, he had come to accept some time ago that his
generation would never actually see Earth.  At least until John, from the
Ship of Lights, had intimated that Commander Dayton would act as some
kind of liaison for them when they finally arrived there.  Ever since
then, in the four sectars and five days since encountering the Earthmen,
every new solar system that they encountered brought with it a heightened
sense of expectation and excitement.
     "You're the one who put me on standby, according to Boomer," she
pointed out, knowing he had done a little creative manoeuvring to get
them to fly together.  Flying with Starbuck was always like a refresher
course, and far more invigorating than any mere simulation.  He would put
her through the paces, honing and refining her skills to ensure she would
be ready when she finally did encounter hostiles in space. 
"Hover-hockey?  What's that?"
     Starbuck sniffed, as he shifted in the cockpit.  "Well, it's an
Earth game that Ryan introduced us to, but there were a few problems with
reproducing it the way they used to play it.  First, it's played on ice,
so Baker and Hummer designed some hover-shoes..."
     "Hover-shoes?"
     "Pretty much the way you'd imagine them, with miniature suspensors
on the soles.  You can really get your speed up." Starbuck grinned.  It
was the closest he had come to breaking a speed limit indoors.  "They
take some getting used to though, and we haven't perfected a good way to
stop yet." Truthfully, it hadn't occurred to the master designers that
they needed to be able to stop.  It had made their first game-more of an
introduction to the sport-an experience that none of them would forget,
especially Apollo, and they all had the bruises to remind them.
     "Which fairly much proves you're crazy for even thinking about using
them," Luana laughed.  "So...when do I get to try them?"
     "I had a feeling you'd see it that way," Starbuck replied with a
grin.  It was one of the things that he loved about her.  Her thirst for
adventure and fun rivalled his own.  "Oh, and the area that they usually
play on is a lot bigger than anything we have available, so we had to
make do."
     "Where did you play?"
     "The Empyrean Ballroom on the Malocchio." Starbuck replied.
     "The Ballroom?  I thought that was essentially a storeroom these
days?"
     "Well, with our Sealing Ceremony practically around the corner..."
     "Starbuck, it's eight sectars away!" There was a note of desperation
to her voice.
     He laughed, knowing just how she felt. Eight sectars and three days
was the official countdown.  "Yeah, well, tell that to Ama." The Empyrean
Necromancer seemed to shove something under his nose every time he saw
her regarding the 'Social Event of the Yahren'.  Frankly, he was amazed
that she even had the time to squander on frippery and folly since she
had been elected to the Council of the Twelve.  However, contrary to his
expectations, it hadn't slowed her down. Not one little bit! Not only was
she still running Empyrean Ale and Tobacconists, she still insisted on
acting as their Sealing Coordinator as well, especially since neither he
or Lu had seemed particularly interested in putting any effort forth on
their own behalf, feeling it was all getting a little out of hand.  Guest
lists, seating arrangements, recommendations for musicians, menus,
flowers, decorating, denomination of the ceremony, not to mention a
choice as to who they wanted to perform it...Lords, it made a guy want to
run the other way!  Screaming. "Anyhow, she's cleared most of the
felgercarb away already.  It's beautiful, Lu.  Looks just like it did for
the Empyrean Ball they had, just before we found you.  Beautiful hardwood
floors polished to perfection..."
     "Just right for hover-hockey," she smiled ruefully at the irony.
"So, Apollo broke his arm? Let me guess. Trouble stopping?"
     "Well, actually, Dickins broke it for him when Apollo couldn't stop
and barrelled into him.  Dickins had control of the hover-puck though, so
from what I understand about the game, Apollo had every right to slam
into him." Ryan had assured Starbuck that his impression that the rules
changed for the Earthling's convenience and advantage was simply his
imagination.  "I'm reasonably sure it was an accident though."
     "Reasonably sure?" Luana asked.
     "Dickins gets a bit intense at times. He makes Dayton look
good-natured and even-tempered," Starbuck explained wryly. 
     "Good-natured? The man who took a broadsword, and made cutlets out
of Sire Dracus? Good-natured?"
     "Well, everybody has a bad day, Lu.  Besides, better 'Councilman
cutlets' than 'Colonial Warrior cutlets', I always say."
     "Maybe Dickins is having a hard time adapting," Luana suggested,
ignoring her lover's banter. She knew that the relationship between
Dayton and Starbuck had changed irrevocably when the Earthman saved his
neck-as well as other bits better left unmentioned-from the deranged
bureautician.  "It can't be easy when you've spent the last thirty
yahrens as a prisoner, Starbuck. Think about it.  Especially when you
don't speak Colonial Standard and have to carry a languatron around with
you to communicate. Maybe you should be a bit more sensitive to that."
Her tone was matter of fact. On a smaller scale, she and her Empyreans
had had a difficult time adjusting to life in the Fleet from a backwards
little planet where they lived in a cave, had a Healer with a propensity
for bleeding the ill, and had little in the way of modern conveniences or
technological advances.  Of course, Starbuck had certainly eased that
transition for herself and her sister, Lia.
     "I'll try to keep it in mind the next time he body-slams me,"
Starbuck replied with a sniff, though he knew she was right.  Dayton had
told him more or less the same thing.  That a man couldn't survive that
kind of mental and physical trauma, and still come out whole.
     "Star-buck." Luana drew out the syllables.
     "C'mon, Lu.  Who has done more for the Earthlings than me?  From
what my father was saying, those guys have become wealthy men just on the
kickbacks from the Rising Star." The Journey to Earth idea he had come up
with had merely launched the phenomenon.  Starbuck had known it would be
a natural progression.  It was Earthmania, as Ryan had declared to
Chameleon, the official Public Relations Man for Earthling Enterprises,
Inc.  Everything remotely to do with Earth was a huge hit.  Their
collection of 'movies', the free lectures that Dayton and Ryan had done
on Earth Culture and History throughout the Fleet, an IFB series of Earth
documentaries, Earth food and drink items popping up at restaurants and
bars, even astronaut action figures and models of the Endeavour for the
kids.  There didn't seem to be an end to the marketing possibilities. 
Any day now, the old Earth space shuttle would be transferred to the
Astrodon Freighter and be made available to the public for viewing.  Her
crew and quite a few volunteers had worked tirelessly to try and put her
back together again over the last few sectars, or as close as they could
get to the original condition, the availability of parts necessitating
some modifications.  Dayton was determined to fly her there himself. 
Tickets to tour her were already sold out for the next six sectars.
     "Which in turn, means Chameleon is doing fairly well for himself."
Luana added.
     "It's keeping him honest." Starbuck inserted.  The old conman had
been far too busy managing the Earthmen's business affairs to get
involved in anything that could be considered questionable, either
legally or ethically.  Well, other than when he had decided to help
manage Ama's campaign when she ran for Council.  The two had become thick
as thieves, which was a little unnerving.  The Necromancer and the
Conman.  It had all the makings of a bad joke.
     Or the next primetime sitcom on IFB.
     "He must be bored stiff." Luana laughed. She looked out her cockpit,
at the lushly fertile world below, then at her scanners.  Despite a
massive biosphere and what looked like millions of species down there,
there was not one single reading that even resembled a Human.  Damn.  She
had hoped.  She tweaked her orbit, as she crossed over into the
nightside, to scan more of the same extensive landmass.  It was huge.
     "Not while he's making cubits," Starbuck grinned, glancing at his
control panel as it beeped. Over the open circuit, he could hear her
scanners beeping as well.
     "Starbuck..."
     "I've got it, Lu." It took a milli-centon for him to recognize it as
he checked the warbook.  Frack!  "Hit the turbos!  Get out of here!"
     "What is it?" Luana asked, her body tense as it responded to the
anxiety in Starbuck's voice. She hightailed it away from the small,
innocuous looking spheroid, only visible to the naked eye because it
seemed to be glowing slightly.
     "Patrol to Galactica, this is Viper Two." Starbuck was the
consummate professional once again. "We've detected a Dynamo, exactly
like we picked up over the Pirate Asteroid. It appears inert for the
moment. Taking evasive manoeuvres."
     "What would a Dynamo be doing here?" Luana asked him.  As far as she
knew, Dr. Wilker and his team had never identified the origin of the
spheroids that the pirates had utilized to incapacitate ships that they
had ultimately scavenged.  When they had dissected one, the technology
was so advanced and unknown, the Science Ship was still in the initial
stages of trying to come up with some kind of explanation as to their
actual mode of operation.  The scientists had been reasonably sure
though, after studying endless algorithms, that they weren't actually
designed to be a weapon. Starbuck had sworn up and down that Wilker
needed to experience being fired on by one of them, and then sitting
paralyzed in a defunct Viper as it was towed into an enemy base.  Then
the scientist would approach that particular unsolved problem with a less
nonsensical outlook.  Apollo was inclined to agree with him.
     "I don't know, but it doesn't exactly fill me with a warm, fuzzy
feeling about this place..."
     "Starbuck!" Her tone of voice a warning unto itself.
     Then a bright beam of blue laser shot past his ship, but not on a
vector from the detected Dynamo.  Where the frack did that come from? And
why hasn't it dissipated?
     "Galactica to patrol, report!" Athena, all business as usual, at
least on the surface.
     "Under attack!" Starbuck replied briskly, rolling his ship to the
starboard, nodding in approval when he saw Lu go the other way.  The
energy beam was still there, and now seemed to be expanding both
vertically and horizontally, corralling him in on that side.  He changed
course, trying to evade its widening path.
     "Another Dynamo, Starbuck.  Frack!" Luana rolled her ship again, as
a second beam, shot past her, seemingly intent on cutting off her escape
on that heading.
     "They're triangulating!" Starbuck cried, as the two beams met at a
vertex and connected, the beam growing larger and more powerful still, as
a third blue streak began to close the polygon on his scanners. 
"Galactica, we're in trouble!"
     Then the third beam met the other two, and the encompassed area
began to fill with the glowing light. It was a web of energy designed to
ensnare everything within it, like a monstrous net. Starbuck blinked as
it began to rotate, finally closing in around his ship, and no doubt,
Lu's. The power to his Viper abruptly died, and he shuddered as the
energy penetrated him, making his body tingle with an intensity that made
him gasp in shock. Strangely, it wasn't painful, especially comparing it
to the last time he'd tangled with a Dynamo. He tried to speak, but he
couldn't. Again, he was paralyzed by the effect of the spheroids, just
like he had been sectars ago, in a different place and situation. This
time it seemed gentler, somehow. Less offensive.
     At least until the blue beam intensified around his body. Eyes wide,
he watched as his frame seemed to be split into a grid pattern, the
bright glow starting at his boots and working its way towards his head.
He tried to suck in a rasping breath, barely able to breathe at all, as
each cell systematically began to disappear before his eyes. It was like
a hand knit sweater coming unravelled with a casual pull of some
powerful, unidentified hand. To add to the terror, the Viper was also
unravelling around him.
     If he could scream, he would have.  Closer and closer, each
molecular cell-each tiny piece of him-erased before his eyes, until
everything from his chest down was gone.  It was like being consumed
alive!  But by what?  His mind steadfastly rejected what was happening
before his eyes, as he watched himself carved up into miniscule pieces,
processed, and removed from existence. The very worst part was he was
alert, and excruciatingly aware of it the entire time.  
     Fleetingly, he thought of Lu, well aware that he had failed to
protect her.  He tried to close his eyes, unable to watch anymore, but
even that small voluntary movement was denied him.  Finally, he prayed
that the end would come quickly.  

Chapter Two     

     "Report, Colonel," Adama ordered, slightly out of breath from racing
to the Bridge from the Council meeting.
     "Our patrol was attacked while scanning the planet, Sir.  Lieutenant
Starbuck reported sighting Dynamos just before we lost communications."
     "Dynamos?" Adama asked as his executive officer nodded. "Telemetry?"
     Tigh inclined his head towards Omega's monitor.  "On screen."
     His first sight of the blue and white planet.  Adama caught his
breath at its beauty, as well as the stunning similarities to Earth that
he had seen in some of Commander Dayton's 'movies' and documentaries.  A
star system with nine planets and one sun.  The third planet from their
star.  As was this.  Not for the first time since they had entered that
star system, he wondered, could it be? Are we there?
     Then a blue ray of light shot past Viper Two, and Adama's pulse
quickened as he watched the beam widen, systematically ensnaring and
disabling the Vipers.  The transmission abruptly died.
     "Tigh?"
     "We don't know, Sir." Tigh's mouth settled into a thin line before
continuing.  "It was as if they simply disappeared.  Spectro-analysis
didn't pick up any traces of an explosion though."
     "Short-range beacons?" 
     "Nothing," Tigh conceded. "Probably disabled with the radion waves,
Commander. Currently, the energy readings from the planet's orbit are off
the scale.  And there are similar, but even more intense radion waves
that we've detected on the surface."
     "Yet, there were no such readings before our patrol began to survey
the planet?" Adama clarified.
     "None, Sir.  At least not since we've been within scanning range. 
I've sent a copy of the transmission to Dr. Wilker for his input."
     "What kind of effect could these radion emissions have on our
pilots, should they actually make it to the surface?"
     "I'm afraid that's a question better suited for Dr. Salik." Tigh
replied, but his dour mien suggesting they both knew the grim reality of
that issue.
     Adama nodded soberly.  "Who was with Starbuck?" he asked, well aware
that Apollo was supposed to be pulling this patrol.  However,
unexpectedly, the Strike Captain had ended up in the Life Station.
     "Ensign Luana, Sir."
     "Dear God..." Adama murmured, instantly wondering how the betrothed
couple had managed to be assigned to the same patrol.  An image of a
certain lieutenant resistant to inconvenient, but conventional rules and
regulations came to mind.  "Have my son report to the Bridge."
     "Yes, Sir." 
     Adama turned, then glanced at the image of the blue and white planet
on the monitor once again as he quickly looked over preliminary
geotechnical surveys.  "Tigh." He paused as the atmospheric conditions
and composition results crossed the screen.  "Ask Commander Dayton to
report to the Bridge as well."

----------
     
     The clouds flew across the sky with a speed that he had never before
seen, and the ridiculous notion of a celestial stampede came to mind, as
the heavenly bodies seemed to surge against one another, urging the next
onward.  Then the sun broke through their cover, shining on him before
dropping into the horizon with a suddenness that barely gave him time to
register the incredible sunset, the sky alight with a brief, burnished
orange glow.  Complete darkness surrounded him all too quickly, and the
sky filled with stars that were so bright that he swore he should be able
to reach up and pluck them out of the air.  With that in mind, he raised
a hand tentatively, only to realize he was still in his cockpit .  He had
barely tapped the canopy with his fingers, when a glow of light drew his
attention and he turned his head to see the sun rising majestically once
again.  
     He blinked as he watched it over and over, an endless cycle that
could only mean one thing.  What the frack was in that last fumarello you
smoked, Bucko?
     As he lay slumped there, he became aware of the vegetation around
him sprouting up around his ship.  With far more effort than it should
have taken, he lifted his head and sat forward, peering through the
closed canopy as a colour reminiscent of lavendula gradually encroached
upon him before the sun dropped below the horizon again.  Yet another
sunrise brought enough light to display an endless sea of huge purple
flowers, more like the purple panthelons of Empyrean, and he was enclosed
somewhere within it.  He paused to watch one single blossom unfurl petal
by delicate petal, before withering and dying before his eyes, all in the
space of microns.
     Then it abruptly stopped, and time seemed to stand still.

----------

     "This is an informal meeting.  Please feel free to contribute any
and all ideas." Adama reminded those who were gathered in his office,
Colonel Tigh, Captain Apollo, Lieutenants Boomer and Sheba, Dr. Wilker,
and Technician Hummer. In addition,  three of the Earthmen, Commander
Dayton, Lieutenant Colonel Baker and Dr. Ryan, were also present.  "We
have few facts and many questions, as I'm sure you're all aware from
Colonel Tigh's briefing." 
     "Where do we start?" Ryan asked, his long, grey hair still tied back
in a queue, and his clothing increasingly casual with each additional day
he spent in 'retirement'. 
     Adama was struck by the extreme nonchalance of the man's attire. A
flower-print shirt, short trousers, and sandals, the entire ensemble
reportedly known on Earth in some quarters as 'beach bum' and in others,
as 'granola'.  In glaring contrast, next to him Dayton wore a suit of a
strange cut, which was in actuality part of a reproduced U.S. Air Force
uniform, cut to his specifications by a tailor on the Rising Star. 
Straight-legged trousers, long sleeved shirt that buttoned up the front,
sleeves casually rolled up to below his elbows and neck opened up at the
collar.  Bit by bit, Dayton had declared, he was getting 'back to
normal'.
     "Can we safely get past the Dynamos and launch a rescue mission?"
Apollo asked, looking to Wilker and Hummer. "Right now that's all that
matters." 
     "We can't honestly answer that, Captain.  These Dynamos responded
differently than the ones we encountered at the pirate asteroid," Wilker
replied. 
     "What did you find out from the Dynamos we retrieved from the pirate
asteroid base?" Apollo asked, suddenly wondering why he had never laid
eyes on that report.
     "I'm embarrassed to say that we haven't figured out how to open them
yet." Wilker replied with a frown.  "And with something that potentially
can release such immeasurable amounts of energy and be used as a weapon,
I'm not about to crack them open like a nut." He shrugged, looking to
Hummer.
     "They're like nothing we've seen before.  Even the concentrated
composition analysis identifies some unknown substances.  They're utterly
alien to us, and still a mystery."
     Wilker nodded, "It should be noted that the various wavelon spikes
recorded at the pirate base do not correlate exactly with the new
Dynamos."
     "Yeah, those ones disabled our ships, these incinerated them!"
Boomer inserted. 
     "We don't know that for sure, Boomer," Apollo objected, still
looking battered from his 'game' with the Earthmen that morning. "There's
an interference from the energy wavelons on the surface that's acting to
effectively disable our scanners when we focus them on the planet. We
haven't been able to get an acceptable reading on life forms or the
presence of the two missing Vipers since Starbuck and Luana went missing. 
All the same, I'm not giving up on them until there's some proof that
they're dead" 
     "I wasn't suggesting that we do." Boomer let out a deep breath, his
jaw set.  "We have to find out what happened to them.  If they're down
there, and they need help..." 
     Sheba nodded beside him. "Don't forget the added possibility of
radion sickness.  Depending on how long they're exposed..." She shook her
head, looking ill at the possibility.
     "Yes.  We understand that timing could be a factor," Tigh replied. 
"But first we have to be reasonably sure that the same thing-as far as
the Dynamos go-isn't going to happen to the rescue party.  Or any other
ship that gets close to the planet." 
     Boomer nodded shortly, "Yes, sir." 
     Hummer raised a hand hesitantly.  "I know this is going to sound
far-fetched, but just as I have been focusing on the Dynamo as a weapon,
Dr. Wilker has been focusing on it as a potential form of malleable
energy." 
     "Malleable energy?" Dayton asked. "What the hell's that?"

----------
 
     His eyes flickered open, and in a rush, it all came back to him. 
The mission, the sudden appearance of the Dynamos, the equally sudden
attack, and the terrifying sensation of helplessly watching yourself
being lasered out of existence.  Starbuck bolted upright from where he
had slumped down into his cockpit.  One thought was foremost in his mind.

     "Luana!" 
     He twisted his head sharply, spotting a Viper alongside his own,
sitting in some kind of meadow covered in foliage.  Within the other
cockpit he could see Lu, her head slumped forward.  Instantly, he tried
to open the Unicom.  Nothing.  No response.  His concern rising, he hit
his canopy release, hearing a welcome click.  The canopy jerked and he
counted the microns impatiently as the hydraulic actuator kicked in.  He
pulled off his helmet, waiting for enough space to squeeze out of the
fighter. 
     Then he was over the side, jumping to the surface, and racing to
Lu's ship through thick vegetation.  Or at least he would have been if
the world hadn't pitched violently to the right all of a sudden.  Like a
drunken man, he tumbled to the ground, shaking his head and blinking his
eyes, trying to fight the waves of dizziness and nausea.  Apparently,
that little merry-go-round ride from Hades Hole wasn't just a figment of
his imagination...at least that's what his abrupt lack of equilibrium was
telling him. 
     He took a slow, deep breath, steadying himself.  He needed to get to
Lu.  Nothing else mattered.  He crawled the rest of the way to the Viper,
struggling through the masses of foliage, and then used the ship to pull
himself upright.  His vision still hazy, his fingers ran over the fighter
until he found the panel he was looking for.  He pulled it open, and
activated the canopy release. 
     Handhold, foothold, a familiar path that he followed by rote.  He
was up and looking into the fighter long before the canopy cleared. 
"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered impatiently as it finally opened enough for
him to lean inside.  "Lu!" 
     "Ohhh!" she groaned, her head lolling back.  "What...what happened?"
Her voice was thick.  After a micron, she looked up and recognized him.
"Starbuck...what the Hades Hole happened...?" 
     "Easy, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning forward and removing her
helmet with shaky hands.  He swallowed down the lump of fear that had
lodged in his throat, and looked her over carefully, still feeling his
heart pounding like a tambour in his chest.  Lords, too many times now he
had had to wonder if he'd lost her.  At times like this, he wished he'd
never supported her dream of becoming a Colonial Warrior, let alone a
Viper pilot.  Yeah, better she was tucked away safely on the Malocchio
brewing ale and curing fumarellos so he wouldn't have to worry about her. 
All this fretting over his ladylove was definitely bad for a guy's
bio-pulse lines.  But somehow he knew she probably wouldn't see it the
same way...
     "What..."
    "You're okay," he told her, trying to sound reassuring, but dredging
up a convincing smile for her was next to impossible.  Where's the game
face, Bucko? 
     "That's funny, I don't feel...okay," she replied, plainly
unconvinced. 
     "I know," he returned, pushing a tendril of hair out of her eyes,
before adding, "We need to try and contact the Galactica."  She raised
her eyebrows in an unspoken question as he pulled on her helmet and tried
to fire up the comm from the console.  "Galactica, this is Viper Three. 
Do you read?" He flicked the switch, but with no result.  He flicked it
again, his mouth tightening in a thin line as he began trying to boot up
the systems.  Any systems.  "Galactica, this is Viper Three.  Do you
read?  Frack!" 
     "No comm?" she murmured, running a hand over eyes that were refusing
to focus quite right. 
     "No nothing.  She's deader than Lord Sagan himself." 
     "What about yours?" Luana asked, glancing over towards his Viper. 
     "I didn't try to contact base...yet," he replied, pulling the helmet
off. 
     "Oh." 
     "What?" he asked, recognizing the edge of defensiveness in his own
voice.  So maybe he normally would have tried to contact the Fleet first,
but if it had been any number of his good friends unconscious in the
other Viper he would have done the same thing...Wouldn't he? 
     "I just thought," Lu looked at him for a moment, then shook her head
briefly, "...nothing." 
     "What?" Starbuck insisted. 
     "Well, that you would have tried it first. Contacted the Bridge and
let them know that we were alive." 
     He blinked.  "Well, I had this strange compulsion to make sure you
were still alive first. So litigate me. Sire Solon's not busy right now,
I hear."  With that he slipped off the nose of her fighter and stormed
towards his bird, shoving aside the thick stalks of dried grass. 
     Starbuck shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the fact
that his betrothed-an ensign, still wet behind the ears-was giving him
grief over not following protocol to the letter, because he had let his
concern for her get in the way.  He could almost hear Apollo whispering
in his ear from when Starbuck had formally requested-over a glass of
Empyrean ale-that Luana and Lia be put under his supervision as cadets. 
I have some concerns, Starbuck.  I'm worried that your relationship with
Luana and Lia may influence your behaviour with them. 
     Influence his behaviour.  Of course, when Starbuck had thrown it
back in Apollo's face about Serina having been his wingman at one time,
the captain had relented.  And after all, Starbuck had been only a friend
and mentor to both young women then-though every Colonial Warrior in the
Fleet seemed to have trouble believing it.  Even Cassiopeia had wondered,
and as it turned out, she had good reason to.
     Yeah, the lieutenant felt as if he'd been under the influence of the
Empyreans for some time now.  Ama, Luana, Lia, the Empyrean Quorum, and
numerous other players had somehow managed to turn his once carefree and
orderly lifestyle-at least that was the way he remembered it-into a
mockery of its former existence.  Of course, meeting astronuts from Earth
and finding out that Chameleon was his father had added to the drama.  No
wonder he was now having anxiety attacks, and crawling on hands and knees
across some strange planet, desperate to find out if his betrothed was
dead or alive.  All too frequently, he might add.  Only to have her
criticize him for it, he reminded himself. 
     He leaned over, picking up his discarded helmet from beneath the
fighter, for a tempting instant just wanting to boot it into next secton
instead.  He pulled it on and scaled the Viper, jumping into the cockpit
and going through the same procedures all over again. 
     "Viper Two to Galactica, come in."  Nothing. "This is Viper Two,
calling the Galactica.  Do you read?" Total silence, not even the hint of
static or hiss.  
     He closed his eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath and letting it
out.  Whether it was the Dynamos, the after effects, or the fact that
they were now marooned, he felt like pounding the mong out of his
console.  Instead, he pulled off his helmet, throwing it roughly to the
ground, and ran a hand back through his hair. 
     No communications, no transportation, the Dynamos still active and 
part of some weird network of weaponry, it wasn't looking good for a
quick rescue.  He looked around briefly to see a fertile landscape
covered in large purple flowers mixed with long yellow grasses, an
abundance of trees and an incredibly blue lake against the backdrop of a
hillside and waterfall.  It appeared they were in some kind of valley. 
Lu was standing by her fighter, also studying their surroundings.  Her
skills for surviving in the wilderness probably surpassed his after all
those yahrens on Empyrean.  Shelter, water, protection, food...they both
had their survival kits, their weapons...he could probably rig something
to signal the Galactica...or maybe he could first manually reboot the
flight computer...at the very least get his emergency beacon working...
     He jerked off the control panel and got to work.

---------- 

     "Commander?" Wilker asked, gestured towards the monitor on his desk.

     "Go ahead Doctor," Adama replied, rising. 
     "Thank you." Wilker replied, taking the Commander's place at his
desk and inputting some data.  He tapped the keys again, and a graphic
was displayed.  "Now, we used the elevated radion signature from our
recorded data at the pirate asteroid field to pinpoint the locations of
the Dynamos surrounding the planet using the Galactica's scanners." 
     "Does this planet have a name?" Ryan asked suddenly, glancing from
Dayton to Adama and back again.  He leaned forward, examining the image
closely. 
     "Uh...no, Dr. Ryan." Wilker inserted for them, when the two
Commanders deigned to respond.  Dayton was looked at his friend
suspiciously.  "At least not one known to us. We've only just discovered
it." 
     "Just seems awkward to keep referring to it as 'the planet'.  Can't
we call it something?" Ryan suggested, getting both a nod of approval and
a grunt of agreement from Baker. "Planet 'P', or something?  For the sake
of expediency?" 
     "I don't think it's really all that important, that..." Wilker
began. 
     "Planet 'P' actually looks a lot like Earth," Ryan added.  "Did
anyone else notice that?" 
     "Earth?" Apollo asked, his head snapping up. 
     "Yeah, Earth," Ryan replied.  "Early Earth.  Before coffee and the
morning constitutional.  Mark?" 
     Dayton's eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. "It does." He paused as
he felt their gazes upon him.  Better get used to it, Dayton, especially
if Ama gets her way.  "Can you sharpen up the image of that landmass, Dr.
Wilker?"  Wilker adjusted the image of the planet, stripping away the
cloud cover, and flattening it to something that the Earthman recognized
as a Mercator Projection.  He studied it a few moments. "There's a theory
that in an earlier geological epoch, the seven continents that now make
up most of Earth's current landmass, made up one vast supercontinent,
much like this one." He traced the basic outline of the landmass with one
finger. "Scientists called it Pangaea.  Over the years, tectonic
plates-internally rigid crustal blocks of the lithosphere which move
horizontally across the earth's surface relative to one another-were
responsible for the gradual movement, collision and division of
continents, as some of you would have seen in our Journey to Earth
presentation." 
     "You mean that planet could be...Earth?" Sheba asked hesitantly.  
     "Not unless she's a relative baby in this space-time continuum,"
Ryan replied with a shake of the head before second-guessing himself and
pausing to look at his friends in question. 
     "Isn't that possible?" Boomer asked.  "After all, you said that when
you went through the wormhole, that time as well as distance could have
been distorted." He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that they
hadn't detected any life known as Human on initial scans.  So how could
the Thirteenth Tribe have landed there and made the impact that had been
illustrated so clearly by Dayton and his crew?  It didn't make any sense. 
He could see the other Colonials were thinking along the same wavelength. 
At least they looked just as confused as he felt.
     "What do you think, Dayton?  Are we there yet?" Ryan asked with a
grin.
     "Don't make me pull this Battlestar over, Ryan." Dayton retorted,
before looking to Boomer.  "Hey, that whole wormhole theory is just that.
A theory. Mostly discussed by men who had imbibed heavily in Asteroid
Whiskey, and had only a few tenuous threads of data to build upon,"
Dayton reminded them.  "For lack of a better explanation, we settled on
the wormhole." After all, how many science fiction writers had used the
same formula over the years?  No explanation for the plotline?  Then
blame it on God, the Devil, or a wormhole. Worked for TV, anyway. 
     "I think there's more to it than that," Hummer nodded back towards
the Scientist. 
     "Oh, right." Ryan murmured, realizing he had taken them off topic. 
     "Yes, what were you saying, Dr. Wilker?" Dayton asked. 
     "Well, we managed to chart the position of the Dynamos in relation
to the planet..." he was unable to ignore Ryan's expectant glance,
"...Planet 'P'.  Now the area of 'P' is approximately 510,900,000 square
kilometrons." He paused as Ryan and Baker began to snicker.  Dayton
stared hard at them for a moment and they contained themselves in short
order.  "For every 12,772,500 square kilometrons is one Dynamo in a
parking orbit above the planet.  The altitude is almost exactly equal to
the planet's circumference, and equidistant from the others, blanketing
the entire planet's surface.  Obviously, this range far exceeds anything
that we saw while interacting with those at the pirate asteroid." 
     "Interacting?  He has an uncanny ability for making it sound
exceedingly polite." Boomer said aside to Apollo. 
     "Therefore, I'm theorizing that these Dynamos are meant to be more
than just sentinels for this planet," Wilker elucidated.  "That the
energy beams that they emit are actually meant to affect the planet's
physical structure-its crust, oceans, even its atmosphere-in a formative
process." 
     "Wait a minute.  Are you suggesting that this planet is being..."
Dayton paused as he looked at the other, "terraformed?"  
     "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that term." Dayton briefly
explained, and Wilker nodded. "Yes. What I'm suggesting is a process of
planetary engineering, Commander Dayton.  And the Dynamos are the
guardians as well as the expeditors of the process." 
     "Uh, Doc, a guy's got to ask..." Ryan shifted from one foot to the
other.  "Who set this whole process in motion?" 
     "Exactly." Adama echoed the thought.  "Who's technologically capable
of such an undertaking?  And the fact that the planet's atmosphere is so
ideal for Human life..." He exchanged looks with his son. 
     "This science is so beyond anything that we're capable of..." Wilker
shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.  "I really have no idea. A
great deal of this is beyond even the theoretical level, Commander." 
     "Where does all this leave Starbuck and Luana?" Apollo reminded
them. 
     "There's more, Captain." Wilker admitted, punching the keys once
again.  "Shortly after the Lieutenant and Ensign's disappearance there
was a massive surge in the energy wavelons from the Dynamos and the
planet.  Again, this is going to sound improbable at best," He glanced at
Hummer who nodded in agreement.  "The rotation of the planet in its
orbital path increased substantially.  It only lasted a short time, but
in that relative period, days instead of centons would have elapsed on
the surface.  Since then, in comparison, the readings have dissipated
until they have become virtually undetectable." 
     "Yet they're still interfering with our scanners." Apollo pointed
out.  
     "Wait a minute, are you suggesting that Starbuck and Luana's
presence somehow kicked that whole planetary engineering process into
high gear?" Dayton asked. The blank stares told him that gears were not
exactly common here. "Uh...up to a higher level of activity, Doctor
Wilker."
     "For a brief moment on a geological time scale.  It's possible. 
Again, so much of this is conjecture right now." Wilker replied. 
     "The thing is," interjected Hummer, "a planet speeding up to this
rate of rotation so quickly, then slowing down again, should have ripped
the planet apart. That it didn't is quite flatly impossible."
     "Yet it happened," said Sheba.
     Baker sniffed. "Sounds like a Monty Python movie. Adam and Eve
arrive separately by his and hers spaceships in the Garden of Eden." 
     "Eden?" Adama asked, his eyebrows rising. 
     "It's the place on Earth where the first man and woman lived after
they were created by God," Dayton elaborated. 
     "According to the Bible," Ryan added, pointedly. 
     "The Book of Genesis," Dayton nodded. "Part of an ancient text known
as 'The Old Testament'." 
     "Eden was also the name of the largest city on Kobol," Adama added.
"The seat of the Lords, in fact." 
     "Fact?" Ryan asked, eyebrow raised. 
     "Fact," replied Adama. "I can show you the vid scans from our time
on Kobol later." 
     "Interesting," Dayton nodded.  
     "So, Dr. Wilker, you're saying that we aren't currently detecting
any further radion emissions from the Dynamos?" Apollo asked, getting
back to the topic at hand. "Essentially, they're dormant?" 
     "That's correct. From all the data we currently have, they have shut
down." 
     "Well, one thing we did learn the last time around, is that after
they discharge their energy, they are essentially at their most
vulnerable.  We can blow them to Hades Hole with one shot, Commander,"
Sheba suggested.  "Clear a path, and go in looking for Starbuck and Lu." 
     "The problem being that they may very well be critical to the
ongoing evolution of this planet," Adama replied thoughtfully.  "And, as
I believe Dr. Wilker has indicated, their range seems vastly increased
over the last time we encountered them." 
     "However, they didn't attack until Starbuck and Luana picked them up
on their scanners at relatively close range, Father, according to the
flight data logs," Apollo returned. Briefly, he pondered using one of the
smaller and lighter Wraith ships they had confiscated at the pirate
asteroid.  It would be more difficult to detect by scanner, however, the
downfall was it was still a single-manned craft.  Good for
reconnaissance, but not much use for a rescue.  
     "I wonder..." Wilker mused.  "Did the Dynamos attack?" 
     "What else would you call it?" Apollo asked. 
     "A planet genetically engineered and perfectly suitable for Human
life, but curiously no Humans are present.  Almost as if populating the
planet was a final step." Wilker proposed. 
     "As if the entire planet, indeed the whole project, were some sort
of gargantuan computer program?" asked Ryan.
     "It is beginning to look like that," replied Wilker.
     "I wonder if we should look for Slartibartfast's signature somewhere
in Norway," Dayton muttered to Baker.  The other man just rolled his
eyes, and said nothing.
     "And suddenly a man and a woman show up at what could be perceived
as just the right time in geological development, assuming the
acceleration in evolution for that brief period concluded some kind of
preset objective," Adama added. 
     "Ah, I see. Maybe they weren't attacked, but instead they were
recognized as being the primary species Planet 'P' was designed for,"
Dayton added. "So the computer, or whatever it is that runs the place,
decided it was time to start populating the place." 
     "So what does all that mean?" Baker asked. 
     "That they could be still be alive," Tigh replied. 
     "And possibly breeding like bunnies," Dayton grinned. 
     Abruptly, the entry chime sounded. 
     "Enter!" Adama called out. 
     The door slid open to reveal Ensign Lia, looking slightly
embarrassed. 
     "Commander, I'm sorry to interrupt," she looked around at the
assembled group as she held a card in her hand that appeared quite formal
in nature. "I know this isn't exactly proper procedure, Sir." 
     "Come in, Ensign," Adama encouraged her. 
     "This will be quick, Commander.  I have a message from Council. 
She...they insisted I bring it to your attention right away," Lia
continued, crossing the short space between them. 
     Adama raised his eyebrows, having a fairly good idea just who had
done the insisting in this instance. "Thank you, Ensign Lia." He undid
the antique-looking wax seal, and unfolded the card, that resembled an
archaic letter of introduction or announcement.  Within was a short note
in neat, bold script that declared, They're alive.  It was signed
formally, Ama, daughter of Arion and Annica of the Empyrean Imperial
House, Empyrean Necromancer, and Member of the Council of the Twelve.  He
slowly refolded the note. "I see." 
     "Sir?" Lia asked. 
     "That will be all, Ensign," Adama dismissed her, keeping his tone
neutral. 
     She looked disappointed, and glanced for a moment at Apollo before
adding, "Yes, sir."  Then she turned smartly on her heel and left. 
     "Father?" Apollo asked, eyes going from the Commander, to the note,
and then back to his father. 
     "A message from Ama, insisting they're alive." Adama replied, his
mouth grim. 
     "How seriously do we take such a message?" Dayton asked.  He'd heard
rumours from Ryan and Baker about the Necromancer's reputed talents. It
was said the woman could see both the future, and into the very hearts
and souls of others. Good or evil. And since meeting a real angel named
John right there on the Galactica, he was willing to believe almost
anything. Almost.  
     "She has a fairly impressive track record," Adama admitted
reluctantly as he thought back over the sectars since he had met Ama. Not
only had she lifted a curse that had probably saved Starbuck's life, she
had also seen to it that a second rescue party was sent to Alrin, somehow
knowing that Apollo, Starbuck and Lia were in trouble, as well as
insisting that Starbuck wasn't dead when they had assumed him so,
mistaking the charred remains of Ensign Szabo for the lieutenant's after
being caught by pirates sectars later.  Added to that, the woman had an
intelligence, warmth, and a personal code of ethics, that made her rise
above his usual opinion of self-professed soothsayers and witches. And
Bureauticians. Besides, he liked her. "We need a plan to get past those
Dynamos. However, keeping in mind that I'm basing this decision on Ama's
powers of  prediction, I want this to be on a strictly volunteer basis. I
want no misunderstanding that this could be a tactical mistake." 
     "What about using Baltar's Cylons and their fighter?" asked Sheba.
"With no life forms to detect, maybe it could slip past the Dynamos."
     "I don't think we have the kind of time it would take to get them
functioning properly." Boomer inserted.  "Stacking a few boxes in the
science lab is one thing, but flying a Raider..."
     "And they could never give medical aid, if needed," Dayton
countered. "And if Starbuck or Luana are hurt, they're going to need a
med tech. Maybe more than one, along with whatever rescue and survival
equipment is deemed necessary.  After all, if we're wrong, and those
Dynamos do attack, even if we manage to sneak past their defences on the
way down, we might have to sit tight a few days."
     "It's sneaking past their defences that has me worried," Apollo
added.  He looked around the room, and as he expected, each warrior was
nodding in agreement.  Wilker looked less concerned, then again, he
likely wouldn't be going. 
    "Commander Adama," Dayton stepped forward.  "I have an idea about how
we can reduce the risk that the Dynamos would be able to recognize our
rescue shuttle.  Perhaps it would give us some more time." 
     "I'm listening, Commander Dayton." Adama replied with interest.  
     "We use the Endeavour, Sir." 

Chapter Three

     The sun beating down on her face, the combined scent of fresh air
and blossoms, the heavenly scenery spread out before her, Luana smiled as
she mused that perhaps being marooned on this planet with Starbuck for
all time might not be such a bad thing.  After all, it would be just him
and her, no one else's expectations or opinions would come into it.  Her
perceived 'role' as a wife and as an Empyrean Princess would be
irrelevant. 
     Actually, the more she looked around, and the more she thought about
it, the more staying appealed to her sensibilities.  It was so very
Empyrean of her.  Drop an Empyrean on a planet, and it was difficult to
persuade her to be cooped up again on a ship.  It had been proven at
least twice that she knew of when the Thirteenth Tribe journeyed to
Earth, once on Empyrean and again on Alrin.  Often, it made her wonder if
any actual Empyreans had ever finally made it to Earth.  Or if any
ultimately would. 
     Finally, having done a complete sweep of their perimeter, she headed
back to Starbuck and his ship.  He was busily trying to get something
working-communications or emergency beacons, she imagined-but he hadn't
spoken two words to her since she had made that offhand comment to him
about not trying to reach the Galactica as a priority.  In retrospect,
she realized now that he had probably been frantic with worry when he had
first woken up, and she would have likely done the same thing. 
     But Apollo wouldn't have. 
     That was the crux of the matter.  There were reasons that Apollo
didn't want them flying together.  The same reasons that Sheba stayed in
Silver Spar Squadron, and spent less time these days joining her man on
missions.  And they did make a certain kind of sense, she had to admit.
Couples spent too much time watching-and reacting to-each other.  Sheba
had admitted that she actually lost her sense of perspective when she had
disagreed with one of the Strike Captain's orders back on the pirate
base. Openly and vocally. She had taken it as a personal affront.  It had
taken them some time, and some professional distance to get their
relationship back on track. 
     Starbuck, however, had thought that they were immune to that.  Lu
had figured it had to do with their vast difference in experience.
Starbuck would give orders and she would follow them. Generally, she had
such immense respect for his skill, ability and knowledge, that it had
never been a problem. 
     Not that he had put either of them in any kind of danger. However,
she couldn't help but wonder if the best pilot in the Fleet-and the
universe, if Starbuck was telling the tale-would have been able to get
out of the Dynamo's trap if he hadn't been following her progress, and
therefore breaking his own concentration. 
     Dang, she would absolutely hate to leave Blue Squadron. The pilots
had become a second family to her, the barracks, her new home.  Each one
had taken her and Lia under their wings, showing them the ropes, and
sharing their tricks of the trade.  Treating them like little
sisters-especially with Starbuck's watchful eye upon them in the early
days.  She sighed, walking up to Starbuck and peering over his shoulder
as he held a probe to a circuit board in the Viper's underbelly. 
     "Getting anywhere?" she asked casually.
     "Nowhere fast," he replied, obviously not at all surprised by her
presence. "I'm trying to modify the circuit board in the emergency
beacon. I'm thinking I can use a jumper wire to change the circuit path,
and thus that of the current, and then try to reroute the charge from my
laser's spare charge pack, to try and kick start the whole subsystem."
     "The laser?  I thought the power cell was totally different?"
     "Yeah, for reasons known only to the Mighty and Mystical Madmen of
Colonial Military procurement.  Which is probably why our lasers are
still working, Lu.  That shouldn't matter though for what I have in
mind."
     She nodded thoughtfully, amazed at the training he had received in
an Academy setting, "You certainly seem to be quite adept at this."
     "Well, sort of."
     "Was this part of an Academy exercise?"
     "Some of it obviously." He smiled faintly, glancing back at her for
a moment. "The rest was part of how I used to hotlink the occasional
circuit board as a kid in Caprica City."
     "Ah." He didn't often speak of his childhood, and never in great
detail, and Luana had the idea there was more of it that he wanted to
forget than remember.  "It must have been...difficult.  Losing your
family as a child.  I couldn't even imagine not knowing or remembering my
mother or father."  
     For a moment he just looked thoughtful, pausing in his actions,
before finally replying.  "I guess it made me who I am today.  I picked
up a lot of...skills, for lack of a better word, back then."  
     "I think a lot of those skills were in your genes, Starbuck." Luana
smiled, thinking of how similar he was to Chameleon.  Many an evening had
they spent over the last four sectars, father and son exchanging tales of
their pasts and trying to catch up on yahrens long gone.  Of course, both
men stuck to tales of glory.  It was as though they had an unspoken
agreement to not discuss anything negative that had come about due to the
tearing apart of their small family and the tragic loss of Starbuck's
mother.  "But it was ironic that you ended up honing them as you did."
     He shrugged slightly in response.
     "I was thinking," she told him.
     He sighed. "I had a feeling this was leading up to something like
that."
     "I think I should leave Blue Squadron." 
     "No." It was clipped.  He didn't even stop what he was doing. 
     "This isn't a request to a superior officer, Starbuck." Luana
returned, watching his shoulders rise and fall as he took another deep
breath, before turning to face her. 
     "I'll leave Blue," he said.  Truthfully, he'd been thinking too.
He'd hoped to have the time to talk himself out of this though.  "I'll
tell Apollo when we get back." He shrugged as if it was nothing. 
     But she knew differently.  "You've been Apollo's wingman
since...well, I don't know how long, but it seems like forever." 
     "It probably seems that way to Apollo too," he grinned ruefully,
setting down the delicate tools on his emergency kit.  "Look, Apollo's
been talking about shuffling the squadrons.  It'll be good for all of us
to shake it up a bit.  We're too comfortable flying with the same guys
all the time.  After all, we haven't seen a Cylon in so long, we're
losing our edge." 
     "I never had one," she smiled.  "I still don't think you should
leave Blue.  You love flying with Apollo.  Besides, we need someone who
can cover his astrum, and there's nobody better at it than you." 
     He looked at her pained.  "Couldn't you have put that a different
way?" 
     "Think about it, Starbuck.  This is one situation where it's
incredibly important to know how your wingman flies if you're going to
protect him.  You two are so instinctual.  It's like watching birds in a
mating flight." 
     "Again..." he groused at her comparison. 
     "So litigate me.  I hear Sire Solon's free." Her chin tilted upwards
ever so slightly. 
     Starbuck had the good grace to wince as she threw his words back at
him.  Then he took a step towards her, stroking her cheek lightly. 
"Actually, he's the Chief Opposer, so he wouldn't take the case.  He only
handles the big stuff." 
     "Give it some more thought." Her arms crept around him.  "I really
think I should be the one to go.  I know why you want me in Blue, but the
other squadrons would watch my back just as meticulously as Boomer,
Dietra, Giles and the others.  You're selling them short." 
     Lords, she knew him too well! "Blue Squadron is the Commander's
wing.  There's a reason for that, Lu." 
     "Tell that to Bojay and Sheba, and I'll watch them wipe the deck
with you." 
     He grinned, pulling her against him, and looking into the endless
depths of those dark, brown eyes.  "I just want you to be safe." 
     "Much the same as I want for you.  And if we examine our medical
records, I'm betting you've spent a lot more time in Life Station lately
than I have. What with breaking into criminal's quarters, torture
sessions by psychopathic henchmen, curved Empyrean daggers..." 
     "Lately?  I haven't been there for sectars." He refuted. 
     "Yeah, well, now that you've taken up hoverhockey, I'm sure it's
just a matter of time." She kissed him lightly.  "Now, how about you
teach me how to change the circuit path with a jumper wire?" 
 
----------

     It didn't escape Dayton's notice that every Colonial in the
office-with the possible exception of Lieutenant Boomer and Technician
Hummer-was looking at him like he was wearing a pink tutu and singing
Tiptoe Through The Tulips in a 'Tiny Tim-like' falsetto while balancing
on a tightrope with a frilly umbrella. With ringlets and ribbons in his
hair. "What?" 
     "The Endeavour?" Adama asked, his tone incredulous.  As recently as
last sectar, he had visited Dayton upon the shuttle where they had
discussed history, culture, the Thirteenth Tribe, vegetables, and, of
course, the Earth shuttle.  Dayton had mentioned that the ship would be
fit for touring and that he harboured some hopes that she would be flying
to her resting place on the Astrodon Freighter, however, there was at
least one blatant problem.  She had no engines.
     "Yes, Commander." Dayton nodded, thankful that the other hadn't
sounded derisive or mocking.  "As you know, we've restored many of her
systems, mostly by jury rigging and machining parts ourselves. 
Lieutenant Boomer and Technician Hummer have helped a lot in that regard
with bits and pieces salvaged from the pirate base." He nodded to the two
men who had invested a huge amount of their own time in Dayton's pet
project. 
     "Commander Dayton," Tigh inserted.  "The last I heard, she had no
engines." 
     "Uh, well...she does now." Dayton tried to keep his features and
tone neutral. 
     "From where?" Tigh asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he
sighed loudly. 
     "You'd have to ask Starbuck..." Baker inserted, pausing as Dayton
looked at him warningly. He looked at his friend uncertainly.  There was
a certain amount that a fellow missed when he was still relying on a
languatron to communicate.  Truthfully, he did better when he simply
tried to keep up with and participate in the conversation, and now found
the electronic translator more of a distraction.  But this had seemed too
important to risk relying on his tenuous grasp of Colonial Standard.
     "I...see." Adama nodded, letting out a deep breath. Thank the Lords
that Starbuck is on our side.  He looked to Boomer and Apollo.  If the
lieutenant had somehow managed to scavenge engines for the Earth shuttle,
there was no way in the universe he wouldn't have shared that particular
story of glory with his friends. "Well?" 
     Apollo winced slightly, avoiding his father's eye.  "I...uh...told
him I didn't want to know."
     Adama's brows went up, until they nearly disappeared under his
hairline. 
     "Boomer?" Tigh asked, frowning at the resulting snicker from Sheba. 
     "Well, that old ship of Croad's was finally scrapped." Though the
parts were impossible to replace and she was slow and handled like an
archaic landram, the Proteus Enforcer had been reluctant to give up his
craft.  However, once they had introduced him to a Viper, he had finally
come around to their way of thinking.  "Starbuck figured we'd be able to
adapt her engines and a lot of her other parts for use on the Endeavour."

     "And he was right." Baker inserted.  "It would have been a nightmare
to get the Earth technology to work together with anything as
sophisticated as what you're using now. Most of your connectors won't
fit, and a lot of the electrical values are way off. Believe me, we
thought about it." 
     "Having said that, we were able to install a 'new' scanning system
from the shuttle that was salvaged from Arcta," Hummer added proudly.
     "The shuttle that crashed there?" asked Adama, wondering what else
was going on aboard his ship that he didn't know about. "Yes, it was
retrieved as I recall."
     "Along with Cadet Cree's Viper, sir," said Hummer. "The Viper was
repaired, but the shuttle suffered a badly cracked frame on impact, as
well as major structural damage from the hit she took from a Cylon
fighter.  She could never fly again, but with resources at a premium, we
brought her back for parts.  We've been mining it for parts ever since to
keep the other shuttles going, as well as using it to train maintenance
technicians."
     "And you used components from that shuttle to restore the
Endeavour?" asked Colonel Tigh, looking from Hummer to Boomer. 
     "We did, sir," said Boomer. "Along with pieces from Croad's fighter,
as we said, and the old freighter from Proteus as well. All in all, the
Earth shuttle is beginning to look pretty good."
     "But if the electrical power system is so dissimilar," asked Adama,
"how will you get her operational?  Won't the components just blow out?"
     "We've reconfigured most of that, Commander," replied the
lieutenant. "I'm just concerned about how the Dynamos will react to the
Earth shuttle, once it's within their scanning range."   
     "That shouldn't be a problem, Boomer.  The basic systems are all
revamped, and even the navigational system is from Croad's fighter," 
Dayton added, looking back at Adama.  "My thinking is that this Dynamo
technology is so advanced, that it might not recognize the 
Endeavour as being a potential threat." 
     "It might not recognize the Endeavour at all," Hummer added with a
chuckle.  "Might think it's just space junk." He shrugged as Dayton
bristled.  "No offence, Commander.  We'll just kill the Colonial scanner
until after we get through the planet's atmosphere to improve our
chances." 
     "Won't that leave you blind at a critical moment?" asked Tigh.
     "No. We had room, so we installed the scanner from Croad's fighter
as a back-up system. The scanner from the old fighter is the old
two-tiered set-up, sir. The active scan system can be shut down, but the
passive scan mode remains on, unlike the scanner array in the more modern
Vipers. You'll be sending out no energies for the Dynamos to detect."
     "Sounds good," said Baker.
     Wilker rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "That could work." 
     "One more thing," Adama added.  It was really more of a formality
because he already knew what the answer would be. "Who's going to fly
her?" 
     "She's my ship, Commander Adama. And Lieutenant Colonel Baker is her
pilot. We'll fly her." Dayton replied steadily. 
     "Just like riding a bicycle, eh, Mark?" Ryan added. 
     "Something like that, Paddy." He turned back to Adama. "Besides,
given all we've done to her, I couldn't ethically ask anyone else to take
the risk." 
     "Commander, when was the last time you...either of you, flew
anything?" Adama asked quietly. 
     "Well, I admit we haven't logged any hours recently, but Starbuck
introduced us both to your simulators a few months...uh, sectars, back. 
I've made it to the third module and I believe Bob," he nodded towards
Baker, "is about to crack the fourth.  And while I admit, my reflexes
aren't quite what they were when I was in my twenties, as long as we have
someone on the flight deck that can operate the Colonial components, I
think we'll do just fine.  I wouldn't risk my ship, or the lives of
anyone else aboard, if I believed otherwise.  I think you know me well
enough to realize that. Besides, I...we all owe Starbuck."  Not only had
he saved their lives, but each of the crazy schemes-Earth gambling, IFB
participation, marketing-that he had pitched to them in their first week
on the battlestar had paid off in spades.  They were financially
independent men as a result of his vision, and no longer felt as if they
were under the thumb of their new hosts.  Ama had told a similar story
with Empyrean Ale and Tobacconists.  Starbuck had a real talent for
making other people wealthy.  His business acumen and insight as to the
deficiencies in the Fleet were wasted as a Colonial Warrior.
     "Commander, Starbuck was impressed with both of their piloting
abilities," Apollo added.  Starbuck had lost one too many hands of poker
with the Earthmen.  The bet: sneaking them into the simulators and
teaching them how to fly a shuttle.  Of course, being Starbuck, a couple
sectons later he had lost another game and another bet, and this time, he
had become their personal flight instructor for the Viper sims as well. 
Apollo had turned a blind eye, curious when Starbuck pitched the idea of
refitting one of the old replaced flight sims and adapting it to simulate
an Earth fighter, circa Dayton and company.  He wasn't sure what an F-15
Eagle was, but he was damn interested in finding out.
     "How many crew members will the Endeavour carry?" Adama asked. 
     "A crew of seven the way she's configured currently.  Assuming
Starbuck and Luana might be injured, we could reconfigure the middeck for
additional seating and remove the sleeping provisions and modular
storage." Dayton looked to Boomer. 
     "Take that up with Jenny." Boomer suggested, referring to the Chief
Warrant Officer that had been in charge of the Galactica's hangar crew
for so long, that she was practically a fixture.  "I'll bet she could
handle it ASAP." 
     Adama looked to his son.  "Apollo?" 
     "It sounds like the best chance we have." The captain agreed.  
     "The team?" 
     "Me, Boomer, Dayton, Baker, a med tech." The captain could feel
Sheba's eyes upon him, but they had an agreement now.  No more missions
together unless it was strategically necessary.  "Then we shouldn't have
to make any modifications at all." 
     They also wouldn't be risking any further personnel if it turned out
that they were wrong.  Adama nodded.  "Alright.  I want a full diagnostic
done on the Endeavour before she launches. When will she be ready to
actually fly?"
     "Well, at the rate we were going, we figured another one of your
sectons," said Baker. "But since this is a rush, we'll get it done before
the day is out.  After all, it's been a hobby up until now.  Give us the
men, the time, and resources, and that changes everything."
     "Good.  And I want to see the diagnostics before you are cleared for
launch." 
     "It'll be done, Commander." Dayton told him.  "She'll be shipshape
and ready for duty, sir, if I have to drag her down the tarmac myself and
use rubber bands to launch her."
     Adama looked at him a moment, then scowled slightly at Wilker.  He
doubted that 'contraceptive orchestras' was really what Dayton had meant.

     "Viper escort, Commander?" Sheba asked.  "At least as far as the
planet's orbit?  After all, so much of this is conjecture, and the
Endeavour will be defenceless."
     Adama nodded at young officer approvingly. "Two Vipers should do
it."
     "Bojay and I are scheduled for patrol in four centars." Sheba
inserted.  "We'll do it."
     "Very well." Adama nodded, then looked at them all.  "I shall expect
a progress report in one centar.  Dismissed." 
     Adama lightly touched Dayton's arm as the others filed out of the
office.  "By the way, Commander Dayton, the Council had unanimously
agreed to offer you the position of Earth Liaison Officer.  As president
of the Council, I hope you will agree to accept the position." 
     "What exactly will it entail?" Dayton asked, anxious to get back to
his ship, rather than talk politics.  Besides, there was one other stop
he had to make before they launched.
     "You will be welcome in Council meetings and can participate in
debate and discussion, representing the interests of Earthmen, but you
won't have the privilege of voting." Adama noted that the other didn't
seem surprised by that. It made him wonder, not for the first time, how
long ago Ama had conceived of this agenda, assuming it had been Ama.  The
two had certainly been on friendly terms since Starbuck had brought them
all together four sectars ago.  Then again, there was a touch of the
lieutenant in the plan as well, he mused.  "There will be a stipendiary
compensation, of course." 
     "Thank you, Commander." Dayton replied without hesitation, gripping
the other's hand.  "I accept." 
     "I'll release it to the IFB. Now, good luck, Commander.  Bring them
home safely." 

----------

    Apollo was quiet and thoughtful as Sheba walked alongside him down
the corridor.  She had been waiting for him to comment on her
volunteering for Viper escort of the Endeavour, but so far he hadn't said
a word.  Any word.
     "Quantum for your thoughts." 
     He shook his head slightly.  "It should have been me out there with
Starbuck, Sheba." He paused in motion, dropping his gaze to the deck as
she stopped and waited him out.  It was always difficult to accept the
ugly reality when one of his pilots went missing.  It was even worse when
they went missing on a mission that he should have been heading up.  And
when they were friends, it was hardest of all to bear.  Distant memories
of Starbuck launching ahead of him and Serina, and insisting on entering
the seemingly endless void on deep probe in his stead, came to mind. 
Consider it a wedding present.  "I can't help but wonder if it would have
made a difference."
     "They're both good pilots, Apollo. Starbuck's one of our best."
     Apollo nodded, standing aside for someone to pass. Starbuck had
evidently seen the Dynamos as soon as they showed on his scanners, yet
their increased range had made it impossible to escape them. All the
same, it should be him down there on that planet with his wingman.  And
if he hadn't been in Life Station with a broken arm, it would have been.
     Damn! Damn fate!
     "Hey, don't go beating yourself up.  Besides, this way you finally
get a chance to ride in that 'old-fashioned sub-light rocket' that
Starbuck talked about," Sheba told him, leaning against him, her arms
creeping around his waist.
     Apollo smiled slightly, reminded of the time he had first taken
Sheba, Starbuck and Cassiopeia up to the Celestial Dome, the day they had
intercepted their first transmission from Earth.  He pulled her to him.
"I have to admit, that very thought did occur to me."
     "Good.  Because just about every warrior on the Galactica would love
to be going in your place. It's like having a chance to step back in
history...aside from the purpose of the mission, that is."
     He sniffed at the excitement dancing in her brown eyes.  There was a
time when he might have chosen her over Boomer for this mission as a
senior officer.  However, their decision to work less together had taken
a lot of stress off a relationship where decisions made while on the job,
often came back to nip him in the astrum in his centars off.
    "It looks like someone needs to talk to you," Sheba inserted, seeing
Ensign Lia waiting just down the corridor.  She tried to control her
smirk, as a look of sudden pain momentarily crossed Apollo's features
before he carefully composed himself.  He had mentioned that the times
seemed to be long gone where he could issue an order, and just have
everyone jump to it.  Instead, there always seemed someone at hand to
question his authority, possibly because he was always approachable,
reasonable and willing to listen.  Sheba knew that herself, Starbuck and
Lia topped that list. In fact, with Starbuck, it seemed an integral part
of his DNA. "I need to find Bojay and update him on our orders.  I'll see
you in the launch bay." 
     "Right," Apollo nodded, giving Sheba a kiss before focussing on the
Ensign.
     "Captain," Lia nodded at him, taking Sheba's departure as her cue to
join him.
     "Ensign Lia," replied Apollo.
     "Sir, I was just wondering if I could join the..." She trailed off
as she watched him slowly shake his head from side to side. "Mission."
     "We can only take five men, Lia." He watched her eyebrows shoot up
at the use of the word 'men'.  "Otherwise, we'd have to reconfigure the
seating arrangement of the Endeavour. It doesn't have the capacity of one
of our shuttles, I'm afraid."
     "Who...?"
     "Myself, Lieutenant Boomer, Med Tech Tone, Commander Dayton and
Lieutenant Colonel Baker. She's their ship, and they're the best pilots
for the job."
     "Apollo, she's my sister!" Lia reminded him.  It was reminiscent of
a similar situation when Sheba and Lu had gone missing.  Except that time
he had agreed that she could come along. 
     "I realize that, Lia, but the team's set.  It's not just a matter of
one more Viper coming along.  The reason we're taking the Earth shuttle
is in hopes that the Dynamos' scanner array will be unable to read her
because she's so archaic."
     "Then take me instead of Boomer." She shrugged.  It was the obvious
solution.  "You might need a tracker down there, from what I've heard of
the planet." Sure, she had stopped by the Bridge and had obtained all the
information she could on where her sister and future brother-in-law had
disappeared.  It was rugged and wild terrain.  They would be dealing with
wildlife as well as unfamiliar territory.  She would be an asset to the
team after being raised on Empyrean in a similar environment.
     "Boomer's spent endless centars helping to rebuild that ship, Lia. 
If we have any technical problems, I want someone aboard who knows what
they're doing." If there had been one more seat, he would have given it
to Hummer.  But somehow he knew that saying it aloud, wouldn't make Lia
feel any better.  "That's why I'm bringing him."
     "Then let me fly escort."
     He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he noticed the
stubborn tilt to her chin, the hands on her slender hips, the gaze that
she locked on him as though he was a target in her sites.  "Don't you
ever give up?"
     "Never." She shook her head and added solemnly, "Not on my family,
or my friends."
     "Ensign..."
     "Captain Apol..."
     "This is not a reflection on your ability, Ensign. But when it's a
loved-one, your judgement can become less than razor-sharp. There can be
hesitation at a critical moment."
     Lia bristled . "I didn't hesitate on Alrin."
     "No, Ensign," he said with finality.  
     She pressed on. "You know what I think, Apollo?  I think you're
taking your personal decisions and imposing them on the rest of us.  Just
because you and Sheba argued a few times on duty..."
     "You're out of line, Ensign." Apollo replied stiffly.  In reality,
the awkwardness of working with his lover went right back to Serina.  She
had even threatened to lock him out of her chambers once over the comm
while on patrol.  He could just imagine how that went over on the Bridge. 
It probably would have become a bigger issue, and something he would have
had to resolve, if fate hadn't dealt a lethal blow in the form of a Cylon
pulse rifle blast on Kobol.  Yeah, it could be he was losing his sense of
humour on that front about now.
     "Colonial Military for 'you nailed it, Ensign'." Lia took a step
closer to him.  "I've never been a detriment to a mission, and I resent
you assuming that I would be now, based on your experiences with Sheba."
     Oh, that rankled, but he managed to maintain his composure and keep
his voice tightly controlled. "This has more to do with other people
being more suitable and qualified than..."
     "You just keep telling yourself that, Captain." Lia replied
bitterly.  "I told you once before that if something happened to your
sister, you'd be out there trying to find her despite your own emotions
running amok.  I don't see the difference."
     "The difference is, I'm in command and I have over a deca-yahren of
experience." Apollo returned.  He'd always been able to reason with her
before.  
     "Really?" Lia drawled, knowing she was crossing the line, but as
Starbuck said, sometimes you just had to hit the turbos and say, "what
the frack".  After all, it wasn't as if they could bust her back to a
cadet.  "Well, Sheba has almost as much experience.  Funny how she's
unable to rein in her emotions as effectively as yourself.  Must be that
Adama bloodline, or some kind of special training." Everything in her
bearing contradicted her statement, from her raised eyebrows to the tone
of her voice.
     It was a side of Lia he hadn't really seen before.  She had
developed an edge since joining the Fleet.  He wasn't sure what had
happened to that innocent, forthright, determined...Then it hit him. She
was standing before him right now telling him he was full of felgercarb
as far as she was concerned.  Yet, he had recently set a standard,
reviving old rules and regulations that had been put in place hundreds of
yahrens ago for good reason.  If he was going to stick with it himself,
then the rest of them had to as well.  There couldn't be two sets of
rules, based on each individual case that came up.  He sighed, not
particularly liking the reasoning, and knowing that he was rationalizing
his decision.
     "My decision stands, Lia.  I'll talk to Athena on the bridge. You
can listen to the telemetry." He turned to go.
     "But..."
     He turned back to her in disbelief, raising his hands in frustration
bordering on anger. "What part of 'no' don't you understand?" 
     She paused as she studied him briefly.  She'd pushed him as far as
he could go.  It was time to retreat and add a little humour.  "That part
between the 'n' and the 'o'." Then she smiled slightly.  "I had to try."
And for good measure.  "Sir."
     Direct from the Book of Starbuck, he recognized it only too well and
was not amused.  After all, no one could deliver it like the master, and
it lacked the sincerity when duplicated. "When I return from the mission,
report to the duty office, Ensign.  I think you and I need to go over a
few pages of the manual that your instructor neglected to mention.  The
ones regarding following a commanding officer's orders."
     She straightened her back and drew herself up.  This time there was
nothing but military correctness in her demeanour.  "Yes, sir."

----------

     Blue eyes, blonde hair, and a beauty that was only surpassed by her
warmth, sense of humour and intellect, Dayton couldn't help but make time
in his busy schedule to bring Cassiopeia up to speed on the
mission...classified or not.  After all, no one in the Colonial military
had actually thought to sign him up. 
     "I'm almost surprised I wasn't assigned." Cassiopeia smiled
ruefully.  It was difficult to not cross paths with Starbuck and Luana on
the battlestar.  While some of the bitterness over their sudden and
almost predictable tryst had faded, she still wasn't prepared to
socialize with them, which was difficult considering Mark Dayton had
certainly become fast friends with her former lover, something which had
surprised her no little bit. However, the Earthman was a sensitive and
intuitive individual, and it really hadn't been an issue. 
     "I understand that Med Tech Tone was assigned," Dayton told her.  It
wasn't the first time that holding Cassiopeia in his arms filled Dayton
with a sense of guilt as thoughts of his wife, Yvonne, another blue-eyed
blonde, came back to him.  
     She nodded, slipping her arms around his neck and pressing herself
against him.  "I know you've been practicing in the simulators, but are
you sure you're ready for this?" 
     "I'm sure I'm ready for this," Dayton replied with an exaggerated
leer, pulling her closer.  "I'm just not sure we have time." She giggled,
tucking her head into his chest before looking back up at him.  Lord, she
took his breath away. 
     "I meant the mission." 
     "I might be old, but I'm not ready to be put out to pasture quite
yet." 
     Cassiopeia smiled in amusement, but there was an element of
seriousness to her question that he couldn't miss.  They had discussed
this.  She had had enough of Colonial Warriors willing to risk life and
limb, and sacrifice all in the name of duty.  He had promised her that
those days were over for him. "I thought you were focussing your efforts
on participating on Council, not being back on active duty, Mark." 
     "Ah!" Dayton smiled, shaking his head in bemusement.  "Speaking of
which, I was offered a position as Earth Liaison Officer.  I don't get to
vote, but I can influence Council with my sparkling personality and
powers of persuasion." 
     "Then you should have them eating out of your hand in no time,"
Cassiopeia returned lightly.  "You accepted?" 
     "I did." He kissed her tenderly, not missing the slight reluctance
on her part.  "You're not pleased?" 
     "No, it's not that," Cassiopeia denied, then stepped back from him,
turning towards the viewport in her quarters.  
     "Then what?" 
     "I'm not sure how to put it." She murmured. 
     "Just say it. That usually works." 
     "I don't know enough about your...your people's attitudes. Your
values and mores." 
     "What is it?" he asked, taking her gently by the shoulders, then
turning her so as to look her directly in the eyes. "How do you mean
'mores'?" 
     She looked up at him, seeing the concern and curiosity in his eyes. 
She had thought she had left this all behind her and that she would no
longer wonder how a man would react to her previous profession of choice. 
Yet, here she was once again, prepared to defend herself before she had
even spoken the words aloud.  And it was really best that he hear it from
her.  Might as well get it over with.  "Before I was a med tech, before
the Holocaust, I used to be a Socialator." 
     "A what?" he asked, still trying to absorb all the new terms the
Colonials were throwing at him. The way things were going, he'd finally
get them all straight about the time they reached Earth. 
     "It's..." she pulled away from him trying to find simple enough
words to explain the designation to a man who might not even have an
equivalent position back on Earth. "I belonged to a professional order
that practiced Socialation." She watched as he shook his head in
confusion.  "It's a millennia old tradition practiced with the blessings
of the Elders.  I had yahrens of training in social behaviour,
counselling, interpersonal relationships, human sexual physiology and
behaviour, sensuality, communication skills, relaxation techniques..." 
     "A professional order?" he repeated, not quite being able to resign
himself to the idea of a professional anything studying sensuality and
sexual behaviour.
     "Yes." 
     Maybe he misunderstood what she was getting at.  She probably meant
she was a social worker.  That he could see.  She was so good with
people.  But then, where would his values and mores come into it?  "You
were paid to...do what exactly?"
     "Entertain men," she replied candidly, seeing the sudden realization
in his eyes as they widened for an instant. 
     "A Social...I see," he said as he looked first down at the floor,
then out the viewport at the stars passing by.  Why the Hades Hole had
Starbuck not mentioned this to him?  He took a deep breath, abruptly
wondering how Yvonne would feel about him taking up with a reformed
prostitute.  Even one who was on her way to becoming a physician.  "Why
tell me this now?" 
     "As I said.  I know virtually nothing of your people's mores and
standards," she said from behind him, making no effort to touch him.  She
honestly couldn't read his reaction, other than his understandable
surprise.  On the other hand, she hadn't seen him this emotionally
restrained, his feelings tightly in check, since his man Dickins had been
in Life Station fighting for his life.  "Among the Colonists, we have a
sect that looks upon any intimate contact between men and women outside
of very narrow bounds as immoral or unnatural." 
     "Yeah." He replied quietly, wondering where she was leading him now. 
It was one roller coaster of a discussion, and he felt a bit like he was
on a gut wrenching drop from the very top of the V2 Vertical Velocity at
Six Flags, about to begin the 185 foot drop.  Get a grip, Dayton.  Listen
to what she's trying to tell you, and stop envisioning the Happy Hooker
in Outer Space.  "I...uh, heard about those folks. The...Atari, I think
they're called." 
     "Otori."  She corrected him, for a moment flashing back to that time
aboard the Gemini Freighter, where a member of the sect had openly
suggested they 'feed her to the daggits' when she had spoken out to help
a fellow passenger who was ill.  If Apollo and Starbuck hadn't removed
her when they did..."They believe any contact, if not blessed by the Sun
Priest, is grossly immoral. And the ritual comes only once every seven
yahrens." 
     He blew out a short breath.  "Sounds like a bunch of Vulcans,"
muttered Dayton, turning to face her.  Cassiopeia frowned, but he went
on.  "And you wanted to find out how I might react to the idea that
you've had sexual relations with a lot of other men.  Not just Starbuck,
but..." He swallowed, unable to quite get his mind around the fact that
this beautiful, intelligent woman would debase herself to that level.
     "More than that.  While people like the Otori are extremists, there
are still many who look derisively upon a woman who would give herself to
men for cubits." She laid it on the line.  No pretty words, no patented
Socialator explanation.  Just the way that many men would perceive her. 
The men of position and influence who would be delighted to clandestinely
employ her, but would then pretend not to recognize her if they met again
socially.  And they did often. 
     "Why bother to even bring it up?" he asked woodenly, almost wishing
she hadn't. "I mean, we..." 
     "If you're joining the Council, it could become an issue, Mark.  I
just want you to understand that.  You know that I care about you, but
before we go any further in this relationship, you need to think about
this.  I need to know that my past is not going to come between us, or
that you're concerned it will affect your bureaucratic career." 
     He paused in thought as he considered her words.  She didn't have a
problem with her past.  She just thought that he might.  He had the
distinct idea that as far as she was concerned, if his appointment to
Council hadn't occurred, they probably wouldn't be having this
conversation.  It spoke of her security within her life's choices, as
well as her obvious consideration of him. "Are you ashamed of what you
were, Cassiopeia?" His question was gentle, not at all sharp or
accusatory. He simply wanted to know.
     "Ashamed?" She smiled at the very thought.  "No.  As I said, it was
a traditional art.  Thousands of young women on Gemon, and from other
planets and colonies, vied for a chance to be admitted to the Sanctorium. 
I was proud to be among them.  I felt as if I brought some measure of
joy, of happiness, to those who needed it.  Everyone should feel valued,
after all." 
     "Are you religious at all, Cassiopeia?" 
     "I...well, I was raised to believe in The Book Of The Word, and
studied many theologies in my Socialation training, but have never
considered myself devout. Why?" 
     "I was thinking of a woman from my own planet. A woman who lived a
long time ago. Her name was Mary Magdalene." 
     "Oh?" asked Cassiopeia.  Mark Dayton never talked just to hear the
sound of his own voice, at least not with her.  
     "She was a woman famous for her...profession.  Not unlike your own
former life, but with a lot less training, I'm willing to bet.  She was
also said to be possessed by seven demons." He could see the slight
narrowing of her eyes at that. Yeah, possibly he could have held back
that bit of information.  His own attention to detail was sometimes
misplaced.  "When she at last came to the One that some of us believe to
be Divinity Incarnate, she was not only healed, but forgiven. An amended
life, its course radically changed. My point is, if she could change, and
go forward, so could anyone.  Including you." He paused for a moment,
then added quietly, "Or me." 
     Abruptly, he realized, that if that story could apply to her, in a
way it could apply to him as well.  And it shouldn't necessarily take
divine intervention to put one on the right path, though in retrospect,
the angel 'John' had happened along at just the right time for him, when
Ryan's words had failed to make an impact.  Dayton thought about the
years of imprisonment that had changed him, turning him into a man who
spent too many hours dreaming of the ways he could avenge himself against
his tormentors, making them feel every ounce of the fear and
self-loathing that he had experienced.  He had become more animal than
Human, falling back on his instinctual drive to survive.  When Adama had
first explained their intent to find Earth, despite Dayton's voiced
concerns of the Cylon Empire destroying yet another planet-his home
planet-the Earthman had taken it upon himself to be judge, jury and
executioner for the Colonial Fleet, intending to let the imminent
explosion of the asteroid base and Dynamos wipe out the mighty Battlestar
that protected them.  Yeah, on the scale of immorality, he was a relative
monster compared to Cassiopeia.
     He sniffed as he tried to remember where he had left off in his
egotistical and condescending attempt to 'forgive her sins'.  She was
waiting patiently, unaware his train of thought had radically changed his
perception of the situation.  "I guess what I'm trying to say,
Cassiopeia-and probably not very coherently-is that what you used to be
doesn't matter to me.  Not at this point in my life.  I guess thirty
years in that hellhole teaches a guy what's important and what isn't.  I
care about you for the person that you are, not your chosen profession or
what you did in the past.  Besides," he shrugged, attempting to lighten
his dour and reflective mood, "I'm not exactly a saint myself, you know."

     "Really?" she smiled.  She didn't really have a difficult time
believing that, especially with some of the stories that Ryan had told
her. 
     "Oh, yes." He smiled at the way she looked up at him expectantly, as
though this would be worth hearing.  "There was a time when I was known
as 'lock-up-your-daughters-Dayton'." Really, it seemed so trite
considering what had been running through his head.  He changed tack
again.  "Seriously, I've done a lot that I'm not particularly proud of. 
Most of it would horrify you." To her credit she simply nodded.  She had
been there more than once when he had awakened from the nightmares that
had dragged him back to relive the terrors of his lifetime.  "So, I am
hardly one to sit in judgment of how someone else has lived.  And
besides, if we have anything, you and I, then the past is just that." 
     "I'm glad you see it that way, Mark," she replied simply, putting
her arms around him once more.  "And this mission?" 
     "My one and only, I hope to God.  Frankly, I don't see them needing
the Endeavour more than this once.  My last hurrah, as it were." He
pulled her close. 
     She sniffed and held close to him, wondering if it was true.  Cain,
Starbuck, and now Mark Dayton.  The truth was she was attracted to a
certain kind of man.  A man of action who would always be willing to jump
into the fray when called upon.  "Come home safe," she whispered, not for
the first time wondering if her man would come home at all. 

----------

     Adama stood aside, crisply formal, as the two women entered his
office.  He sighed, preferring to be on the Bridge at this point, but his
respect and fellowship with both of these Council members dictated that
he take the time to reassure them-at least as far as Tinia was concerned. 
Ama had her own contacts, as she often put it, and was as unflappable as
ever.  He followed them through the door.
     "You're sending a rescue party," Ama stated, as flatly as if she had
announced to one and all that his uniform was blue.  Not a question.  Nor
a demand.  Just a statement.
     "We are," he nodded.  "Apollo is getting the ship prepared now." 
     Tinia nodded, her features tense.  She had liaised with the
Empyreans for so long, that she had taken a personal interest in the
people.  And while Starbuck and her hadn't always seen eye to eye across
Adama's dinner table, his betrothal to an Empyrean princess had gone a
long way towards easing the integration of the Empyreans into the Fleet,
as well as boosting morale Fleet-wide.  Between them, Tinia and Ama had
elevated the two warriors to icon status, and the Fleet had certainly
needed heroes and idols to look up to on a journey that at times seemed
both endless and uncertain. "Adama, is there any word?  Any sign at all
that Luana and Starbuck have survived?"
     He reached out, gently squeezing the upturned hands as she beseeched
him for reassurances that he couldn't, in all good conscience, offer. 
"We've had no contact with them at all since the distress call."
     "Emergency beacons?" Ama asked, a little more familiar with
operations having two goddaughters and an honorary son who were pilots. 
"Life signs?"
     "Nothing.  There are radion emissions from the surface that are
interfering with our scanners." Adama shook his head.  "Yet, I understand
you...sense they are still alive, Ama?"
     "There's no doubt in my mind, Adama," she returned, smiling
mysteriously. "I can feel their life forces.  They still walk within this
dimension, Adama.  I sense them as truly and as fully as I sense you. 
And, fortunately, my spiritual connection with my kin cannot be
interrupted by mere radion emissions."
     "One day I will sit down and ask you to explain that to me over a
glass of ambrosa," Adama returned, shaking his head, and wondering about
the source of the woman's...powers, talents, skills, gifts-he was even
unsure how to refer to them. Were it not for the proof that he had
repeatedly seen that defied all logic, he would have sworn long ago that
Ama was completely addled.
     "I'm not sure that I could," Ama replied, with the hint of a smile.
"There are some things that transcend logic, after all.  One must take
comfort in that."
     "Most do not, Ama," Tinia pointed out.  "I for one, seek answers
that can be supported by logic."
     "What of you, Adama?" Ama asked, with a curious smile.
     Abruptly, and for no apparent reason, a memory of the tomb of the
ninth Lord of Kobol came back to him.  Adama, Apollo, Serina and Baltar,
they had all been trapped when the Cylons had unexpectedly attacked.
Baltar, who was sure he had offended the sensibilities of the Lords when
he opened the sacred sarcophagus, had demanded, "Adama, the Lords are
with you, use your power, get us out of here!"
     His power.  
     He had thought about it long afterward, when he had had a quiet
moment to reflect on it all.  Baltar had assumed that through the use of
his 'mystical powers', the Commander could free them from megatons of
falling stone that had secured their apparent fate.  As if he could grip
his medallion, mutter some incantation, and save the day.  It almost
seemed silly in that light.  Yet, now it reminded him of...Ama.
     Her powers were indefinable, defying the paradigms of a
materialistic universe, yet tangible, and were perhaps embodied in her
character. An inner strength and resolve, fierce faith and determination,
along with an innate sense of knowing right from wrong, she was a force
of nature. Qualities that Adama not only respected, but recognized within
himself.  Yet his own 'powers' were balanced by his bureaucratic and
military responsibilities.  His own need to explain the inexplicable
often surpassed his desire to simply accept that in the universe that was
beyond his understanding.  He smiled slightly as he considered the
Empyrean woman.
     "Ama, as a military man, I seek explanations.  Such things are a
cornerstone of my profession. Yet when I cannot find answers, or
furthermore, bring myself to realize that perhaps I was not meant to
understand, I can find solace...and perhaps even hope and reverence, in
the knowledge that there is a power greater than all of us out there." He
waved a hand towards the viewport.
     Ama nodded, placing her hand over her heart.  "And in here, Adama. 
Most importantly, in here."

----------

     "Yes!" Luana cheered as she watched the emergency beacon indicator
go on in Starbuck's cockpit.  As blinking little lights went, it was the
most beautiful one she had ever seen.  "Yeehaw! It's functioning!" 
     "Well, what did you expect?" Starbuck called up to her, a little
relieved that his creative reconfiguration had actually worked.  He
watched as she climbed out of the cockpit, slipping to the ground with
the grace of a wild felix. "I mean...hey. This is me we're talking about
here."
     "Oh, right.  I almost forgot." She grinned at the bravado.  "It's a
good thing you were here to remind me.  Now what do we do?" Luana asked,
brushing aside stalks of foliage to join him. 
     "Well, we wait and see if they're going to rescue us."
Unfortunately, he had his doubts about it this time around.  It was
similar to the circumstances inside the pirate asteroid.  The risks of a
rescue might outweigh the benefit.  He just wasn't sure that Lu was
prepared to hear that just yet.  You're doing it again, Bucko.  Treating
her differently because she's your betrothed.  "In the meantime, I'm
going to work on establishing some kind of communications with the
Galactica." 
     "Starbuck, when we were attacked, did you pick up the energy
wavelons coming off the planet?" she asked. 
     "Yeah." He nodded briefly. "I've been thinking about that.  It
doesn't exactly fill me with comforting thoughts." 
     "What do you think it was? Some sort of defence system possibly? 
Maybe left on automatic?" 
     He slowly turned the other way, looking over the vast field of
yellow foliage with clumps of purple flowers, to the lake beyond, wishing
he knew where they were in relation to where he had seen the energy
surge. "Some kind of command centre for the defensive network?" He
frowned and shook his head.  "I don't know, Lu.  We didn't have any trace
of sentient life signs or indications of civilisation on the surface
before we were attacked, and suddenly my scanners were sparking up like
it was the Caprican Summer Solstice Festival. There has to be some kind
of explanation for that, but we just don't have enough data."
     "What about our scan logs?"
     "Can't get mine to come up," he said. "No power to any of those
systems, and I'm afraid even if we did have, the energy pulse would have
wiped them clean." 
     She thought about it a moment.  "You're...wondering if it's the
Cylons?" Luana could tell by his silence that he was seriously
considering it.  "But what would they be doing this far out and ahead of
us?" 
     He turned back towards her.  "I don't think it's Cylon.  If the
Cylons controlled the Dynamos and this planet, we'd either be captured or
dead right now, not sitting here in a field of flowers.  This just
doesn't feel like their style." He sighed. "But you can't rule out the
possibility that they could have manoeuvred ahead of us. They don't have
a Fleet of civilian ships to slow them down, remember."  He thought back
to the Base Ship he and Apollo had penetrated sectars ago. That one had
moved ahead of them, and manoeuvred into a waiting position.  If they
could do it once...
     "If not the Cylons, then who?" 
     "Whoever designed those Dynamos to begin with.  I don't know how in
Hades Hole twelve of the spheroids ended up at that pirate base, but that
technology was obviously in their hands for a long time.  Probably
generations, when you consider everything else we saw there.  Someone
must have shown them how it worked, at least for their own purposes."
Starbuck mused aloud.  Oddly, he and Bex had never had the opportunity to
sit down over a glass of asteroid whiskey and chat about how that
despicable settlement of loathsome Humans had come about.  Even Dayton
wasn't sure, and he'd spent thirty yahrens in that pit. 
     "Go on," Luana encouraged him. 
     "I don't really understand it.  I don't know what all this..." he
held up his hands to the sky, "is for.  Some kind of command centre on
the planet and the Dynamos in position to protect it from above.  Then
when it does pick us off, it seems to just...relocate us onto the surface
and disable our ships. Why? What's the overall plan here?" 
     "Well, who or whatever is behind all this obviously wants us alive.
Given their technology, they could just as easily snuffed us out as
anything else."
     "I agree," he nodded, after a moment. "But the why of it is what
bothers me. Reminds me..." He looked around the bucolic valley, with it
intoxicating beauty. "Reminds me of Carillon somehow.  Beauty that hides
something." He shuddered, recalling just how close Cassie had come to
being fodder for one of the hideous Ovion larvae.  What lurked here?
     "It's unnerving, Starbuck.  Would it even make sense for the
Galactica to send a rescue team? They must have received the telemetry
you sent them; therefore, they'll know what a force the Dynamo Network
is.  A rescue party could potentially end up down here beside us, or
worse." 
     "I know." He sniffed.  She was a clever girl.  She'd figured it out
all by herself. 
     "You..." She grabbed his hand, preventing him from turning away from
her again as the chilling reality set in.  "You don't think they'll
come...do you?" 
     "Not if they can't figure out a way past the Dynamos.  It's
different than the last time we encountered them, Lu.  This new network
is an unknown adversary with a significant amount more power and range." 
     "Where does that leave us?" Her voice was tense. 
     "Look, the Galactica has the advantage of her scanners.  We don't
know what's happening up there. We're essentially blind. We can't assume
the same applies to them right now." 
     "So there's hope?" she asked, feeling his hand slip around her and
pull her to him. 
     "There's always hope, Lu." He smiled gently at her, tipping up her
chin.  "That's what we live for around these parts.  Besides, it might
not be so bad being here, just you and I." 
     She smiled fleetingly, her earlier thoughts of her and Starbuck
staying behind on the planet, and avoiding all the bovine mong about the
sealing details, seeming less attractive now that it might actually come
true.  Be careful what you wish for...Surely there could be some happy
medium instead?  Her and Starbuck together in the Fleet, but without all
the complications of the impending sealing ceremony hanging over them. 
If anybody would understand, it would be Starbuck.  She was being silly. 
She should just talk to him about it.  He probably felt the same way,
after all.  "I was thinking about that earlier.  You and I marooned
here."
     "You were?" he asked, as she looked down at his chest, avoiding his
gaze. Never a good sign with Luana. 
     "I...was thinking that...sometimes with all the sealing plans, and
all the fussing that Ama does...her expectations...yours..." She sighed
before returning her gaze to him. 
     "What?" he asked, shaking his head in bemusement.  Where was she
going with this?
     "That it might be nice to avoid all that." She looked at him
searchingly, awaiting his response. Any centon now he would laugh and
tell her he felt the same way. 
     It seemed for a moment that he had stopped breathing as he stared in
incredulity at the quirky little smile on her face.  His heart was
obviously still beating though, because it had irritatingly risen to his
throat and the sound was echoing in his ears.  Then he blurted out, "You
don't want to get sealed?"

Chapter Four

     Adama glanced over the final diagnostic report for the Earth
shuttle, inputting his command code and giving final approval for her
conscription and utilization. She was now, officially, part of the
Colonial Fleet. He smiled wryly, shaking his head. Something his mother
had once said about 'scraping the bottom of the barrel' came fleetingly
to mind.  Surprisingly, it hadn't taken that long to prepare the ship for
readiness, which bespoke of the quality of the work that Dayton and his
band of scavengers and hobbyists had put into their personal project, not
to mention the engineers and technicians who had originally designed and
built her, on that planet so far away. All the same, his feelings were
mixed because it hadn't escaped his notice that he was sending two
civilians into active duty who were not that far off his own age in
relative Earth yahrens, considering their shorter life span. Ah yes, in a
shuttle that the Lords of Kobol would have scorned, had they survived
laughing themselves nearly to death over it. He sighed, as he wracked his
brain one more time for a more viable option. There simply wasn't one
that he could live with. 
     While finding out what had happened to his missing pilots wasn't
strategically mandatory, getting to the bottom of who was responsible for
the planetary engineering project of Planet 'P' was.  Instinctively, he
knew they shouldn't ignore the situation and safely move the Fleet around
the potential threat, as would be the usual course of action with a
weapon as unknown, powerful and unpredictable as this network of Dynamos.
With the Ravishol pulsar, they had at least known what sort of threat
that they faced. Here, there were too many unknowns. Far too many. Also,
the suggestion that there was some link with Earth was almost palpable.
He could feel it. Taste it. He had to pursue it.  
     "Commander, we've just picked up elevated radion, in widely varied
wavelons, from the surface of the planet again," Athena reported.  "It
seems to be directed at the point in the planet's orbit where the Vipers
were last detected." 
     Adama took the stairs from the Command Level two at a time as he
moved to her station, resting a hand on the back of her chair as he
looked over her monitor.  "Can you trace the exact source of the radion
emissions, Athena?" 
     "Our scanners are still being affected, sir," Athena replied,
clearly already working on it. "The radion waves seem to be effecting
some kind of countermeasures. The coordinates of the source appears to be
moving randomly every 3.333 microns, precisely." 
     "Concentrated scan." 
     "I already tried that, father. I've also tried to stabilize the
waveforms from our own sensors, but the countermeasures seem to always be
one step ahead of me, causing distortion. The scan beams from the
Galactica are scrambled almost as soon as they enter the planet's
atmosphere, giving me garbled returns. Whatever they are, these other
emissions react and adjust to everything I try before it has a chance to
work." 
     "Commander, maybe trying to outdo the technology is the wrong
approach," Tigh suggested, over his shoulder.  "Maybe we need to...use
something more archaic." 
     "Tigh?" Adama asked. 
     "Why don't we try emitting a scan on a gamma frequency? The same
theory that Commander Dayton suggested with the Endeavour, sir.  Perhaps
the fact that the frequency is ancient will confuse the planet's
defensive system.  At least long enough to get some kind of meaningful
results." 
     Adama nodded slowly.  While not as precise, it would be a starting
point. "That would at least give us an idea of the general area that the
signals are coming from. Captain Apollo's team could investigate further
from the surface." 
     "Commander, the Endeavour is also equipped with what Commander
Dayton referred to as 'radar'.  It's a crude form of scanners, sir. 
Similar to what our own early space explorers used back before
Unification," Athena spoke up.  Much like her brother, she had been
intrigued by the archaic systems of the Earth shuttle, and keen to learn
more of the old ship.  Commander Dayton had personally shown her around
the flight deck and had given her a quick demonstration of its rebuilt
systems. He had had a far away look on his face when he had described 
the imaging system. Apparently, it had been instrumental in adding data
to their own knowledge of their planet at the time. Surprisingly, it had
survived the depredations of the pirates largely intact, having been
pulled from the shuttle and used to augment the base's patchwork network
of scanners. Salvaged during the evacuation, Baker had managed to restore
it with help from Hummer, and it was now back where it belonged.  "It
will give a detailed topographical analysis of the area." 
     "Very well," nodded Adama. "Athena, work with Rigel to retune our
scanners for gamma frequency operations.  Priority one."
     "Right away, Commander," replied Athena. 
     "Good idea, Tigh," said Adama, turning to the Colonel. "I admit the
thought of a gamma scan had never occurred to me."
     "Well, all this immersion in archaic technologies of late...it
seemed natural.  Though I never thought I'd be using obsolete methods for
countering countermeasures."
     "Never let it be said that we've forgotten the relevance of the past
in regards to the present, old friend, or the future," Adama returned,
aware of the irony of his statement.  It hadn't been that long since
Dayton had accused him of doing just that, forgetting that the Cylons had
destroyed their civilisation, as he single-mindedly lead their mortal
enemies to Earth to potentially have history repeat itself.  Yes, his
quest for Earth continued, but the Commander was reminded that he had to
be able to eliminate or rule out any threat of Cylon involvement before
he arrived on the doorstep of his Earth brethren.
     "Commander, I've just picked up low frequency radion wavelons that
started at the same point in the planet's orbit that we traced the
planetary emissions to, extending across the entire Dynamo Network and
encapsulating the planet." Athena informed him.
     "It could be they're relaying the signal from the planet..." He
mused, "Are the Dynamos responding in any other way?" 
     "Not that I can detect, at least at this point, Father." Athena
replied.
     "Rigel, notify Captain Apollo on the Endeavour of the same.  Omega,
monitor the Dynamo Network for any changes, however trifling they may
seem.  Now let's get our scanners reconfigured before that planetary
signal stops again," Adama ordered. "Get Technician Hummer and his
equipment up here, on the double, and have Corporal Komma in the Computer
Centre render every aid that might be needed from that quarter."
     A medley of 'yes, sirs' resounded around the Bridge.

----------

     All too often, when life seemed to be going just the way you wanted,
it had a way of abruptly tossing you on your astrum as though to suggest
that maybe you weren't choosing your own flight path after all.  Starbuck
stared at Luana absolutely dumbfounded.  She didn't want to get sealed to
him.  This would probably have been a good time to reflect upon his own
reluctance to commit to various women in the previous deca-yahren, but...
     "What the frack are you talking about, Luana?" He stumbled back from
her embrace, pushing her away reflexively.  "I seem to recall you saying
'yes'.  If you didn't want to get sealed, then why the FRACK didn't you
tell me that four sectars ago!" His tone of voice peaked with his
emotions.
     "I didn't say that I..." she reached for his arm, but he jerked away
from her once again, turning his back and taking a rasping breath.  His
hand raked his hair and his body seemed to tense from top to bottom.  No,
not exactly the reaction she was expecting.  "Starbuck..."
     "Don't!" He whirled on her again, holding up a hand.
     "You're not even giving me a chance to explain!" Luana pressed on,
grabbing the hand he had intended to put some distance between them, only
to have him jerk it away again.  
     "What's there to explain, Lu?" He asked angrily, turning away again
and stumbling in the other direction.  His anger seemed to wash over him
in waves until it reached some kind of pinnacle.  He felt like a volcano
about to blow, and had the incredible urge to scream, or hit something. 
Yeah, maybe it was irrational, but his body was almost trembling with
suppressed emotion.  He needed to get away before he did something he'd
regret.
     "Hey!  We need to talk about this!" Luana protested, hot on his
heels.  "You're overreacting!"
     "Overreacting!" He whirled around again, startling when they
collided.  Instinctively, he reached out and gripped her arms, preventing
her from tumbling backwards.  He winced, and guilt lanced through him as
she looked at him in wide-eyed surprise, and maybe a little fear.
     Luana drew a jagged breath, as she looked him over.  "Fine.  Go."
This time she pulled out of his grasp, taking a step back.  "I think you
need to calm down." Her voice was deliberately low and controlled, though
she felt far from being in control.  She ignored his obvious regret,
written plainly on his features, and plunged on as he opened his mouth. 
"I'll be waiting right here when you're ready to talk.  And we will talk,
Starbuck, because you're out of your fracking head if you think that
suddenly I don't love you and don't want to spend the rest of my life
with you."
     "Lu..." he began.
     "No!  Now it's my turn." Her hands balled up into fists at her
sides, and she resisted the incredible urge to grab his tunic and shake
him until his brain cells banged against each other enough to stimulate
some useful activity.  "I don't deserve this!  I start to tell you how
I'm feeling lately, because it's been eating me alive, and you...you turn
on me like I'm the fracking enemy, Starbuck." She shook her head as he
opened his mouth again.  She simply didn't want to hear it right now. 
"Go cool your turbines!"
     "But..." he took a tentative step.
     "I..." She raised both hands as if they could ward him off like some
kind of shield.  Surprisingly, it had the desired effect as he stopped in
his tracks, his mouth tightening in a thin line.  "I don't want to hear
it right now.  Go...cool...off."  
     He nodded briefly, before he turned and walked away.  

----------

    Dayton looked into the crew cabin one last time, shaking his head in
wonder that this ship-his ship-would soon be launching on her first
mission in over thirty years.  Apollo and Boomer were going over the
newly installed instrumentation once again with Baker, and Med Tech Tone
was securing his gear.  All the men were suited up in the much lighter
Colonial version of an Advanced Crew Escape Suit like the NASA astronauts
used to wear for the ascent and entry portions of their missions. 
Despite the modifications they had made to the Endeavour, she still
didn't have the sustainable internal artificial environment and gravity
of the Colonial ships.  They would be floating around on this one.  Just
like the old days.
     This was it.  T-minus thirty minutes.  He could almost hear the
voice from Mission Control in his ears.  He glanced at his Colonial watch
for the hundredth time, as a hand slapped him on the shoulder. 
     "I just came from the OC and it's official breaking news on the
IFB," Ryan announced with a wide grin.  "Mrs. Dayton's little boy is
finally a beautician."
     "That's Bureautician, Paddy." Dayton replied with a sniff,
retreating with his friend into the middeck section, as Tone passed them
heading forward.
     "Oh?" Ryan replied. "Right. A shame, really. I need a haircut." He
ran a hand theatrically through his hair.  
     "Yes, you do," he nodded, looking at the other's long, grey queue. 
Then at the pseudo-Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and bare feet in open-toed
sandals.  Oh, and he hadn't shaved in a few days either.  "You're
starting to look like a hippy, a vagrant...or an over-the-hill Tom
Selleck." 
     "Tom never looked this good."  Ryan sniffed under each armpit for
effect, then shrugged. "Hey, I'm retired, old fella.  I can look however
I want to." He looked around the ship.  "Wish I was going with you
though." 
     "I thought you'd be the last one who would want to get back into the
action," Dayton replied in surprise. 
     "Action I could do without. It's the fresh air I'd kill for," Ryan
admitted, suddenly serious. "Thirty years is a long time to go without
feeling the sun on your face, Mark." 
     "But you're from Canada. You never had the sunshine on your face
until you came south of the forty-ninth, Paddy," he razzed the other. "If
I remember, you don't have sun up there at all." 
     "Never thought the dogs would be able to pull the sled all the way
to Florida..." Ryan continued the banter as he ran a hand over equipment,
both familiar and new.  "The road got a bit bumpy after I passed through
St. Louis.  Anyway, how's the Colonial pressure suit?  Baker said it
seemed to be working well for his varicose veins.  Does wonder for the
butt too, I'll bet. He said he might wear it all the time...if he can get
someone to insert a 'Y' fly." 
     Dayton chuckled. "I think I dislocated my right shoulder getting
into it.  I'm scared to death of drinking anything because I might
actually break something when I try to get out of it again."
     "Still, you look a bit less like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man than
we did in our day." Ryan returned, grinning as he looked his friend over. 
"Much more svelte." 
     "I was thinking of the Michelin Man, myself," Dayton returned, then
grinned himself, "And speak for yourself, old man." 
     Ryan paused to close a storage hatch that hadn't been properly
secured by Tone.  He automatically began double checking the storage
lockers, ensuring everything was secure for the trip.  Advanced Colonial
medical equipment wouldn't be any use to them after floating around and
then crashing to the deck.  He looked up to see Dayton's eyes on him in
amusement and something more.  After all those years of watching out for
each other, old habits died hard.  "I know your enormous ego isn't going
to be able to absorb this, so I'll say it twice.  You're no spring
chicken, Dayton.  Be careful down there.  And don't do anything stupid. 
Or idiotic.  Or brave.  Or thoughtless.  Or..." 
     Dayton took a swat at him. 
     Ryan took a step back laughing.  "Now, as I was saying, I know your
enormous ego isn't going to absorb this, so I'll say it..." 
     "Enough already!  I get it," Dayton replied. "You're acting like my
mother.  I'm only doing this because it seemed like the best plan to deal
with the Dynamos.  And we owe it to Starbuck.  I never planned on going
on a mission again." 
     "Right.  Which is why you and Baker swindled Starbuck at Texas
Hold'em so he would teach you how to fly in their ships." Ryan returned. 

     "Swindled?  Are you insinuating that I cheated, Paddy?" Mark asked
wide-eyed. "Moi?"
     "No, I'm insinuating that you cheated Starbuck, mon frŠre." Ryan
chuckled. "But since he usually has a card or two up his own sleeve, I'm
not sure that it actually matters. Regardless, you've been dying to get
back out there, Mark. Don't bother trying to pull the wool over my eyes."
     "You ought to join ranks with Cassiopeia," Dayton muttered, shaking
his head. 
     "Well, since you brought it up, she can recognize the well-rehearsed
'reluctant hero' scene when she sees it.  Adama didn't exactly drag you
into this by your heels." Ryan returned with a snort.  "She's a smart
lady and already has experience with your kind." 
     "What are you getting at?" 
     "Did she sign on for this, Mark?" He waved a hand towards the flight
deck.  "Seems to me the lady was under the impression that you were a
sedate professor with some political ambitions, not an astronaut dying to
get back in the game, a la Clint Eastwood in Space Cowboys."
     For a moment Dayton wondered if he should have discussed it with
Cassiopeia first.  At one time, he would never had made a big decision
like that without consulting Yvonne.  Then again, after all those years
of being his own man, he was a little out of practice at being in a
relationship.  Ryan had a point...as usual.  Dayton shuffled foot to foot
than glanced at his watch.  "T-minus twenty-five minutes, Paddy.  We have
to get ready." 
     "I don't think it's quite that precise here in Spaceville.  After
all, they blast off a bit more frequently." Ryan reminded him, then held
out a hand to the other.  "Safe trip." 
     "Thanks." Dayton returned the grip, feeling his friend's reluctance
to let go as the other searched his features as if trying to memorize
them...or if noting how much they had deteriorated with age since the
last time he had truly gazed upon his ugly mug.  "You're not going to hug
me, are you?" 
     "Not while you're wearing a girdle, I'm not," Ryan replied with a
grin, nodding towards the crew cabin again.  "I'll just see off Bob and
the others, then I'll be on my way." 
     "Of course." Dayton replied, feeling that familiar sensation of
butterflies in his stomach that he always got before a launch.  Only
these butterflies felt more like they were wearing armoured plating and
wielding maces.  He watched Ryan say a quick farewell, then with another
slap on his back depart, closing the hatch behind him. 
     "We're ready here, Commander Dayton." Apollo called back.  "We just
heard from the Bridge.  They picked up an emergency beacon from Viper
Two...uh, Starbuck's ship.  They're having trouble locking in on the
coordinates, but at least we have a general idea and should be able to
pick up the signal when we get through the atmosphere."
     "All right, Captain." It was good news.  At least they knew for sure
that Starbuck was alive if he was well enough to activate his beacon.  He
knew the kid was tough.  The Colonial Warrior had proved it time and time
again.  Dayton tried not to think about Luana for now.  They'd find out
soon enough.