"Boomer's Patrol" (By Sharon Monroe) The four Colonial Vipers flew in close formation, sweeping unusually near the ion field they hoped would shield them from their Cylon pursuers. Somewhere behind them was an unknown number of Cylon Raiders. The four warriors had destroyed six of them, only to find that those were only the lead squad when at least ten more enemy fighters appeared on their scanners. The warriors had retreated, hoping to lose their pursuers. "Boomer, do you think they're still tracking us?" asked a very young voice in Lt. Boomer's helmet. It was Cadet Hermes' first mission. The Cylon ambush was much more than he had expected. "They're still trying," Boomer replied. "But this ion field should give them problems. Once we get around it, we might be able to give 'em the slip." "What if we can't?" asked a female voice, Sergeant Melantha's. "The Galactica has to be concerned about us; we're long overdue." "I'm sure they'll figure out this isn't safe territory for humans when we don't show up," Jolly said. "Just so they don't find out by meeting up with Cylon base stars." "I know," Boomer responded. "But I got an idea. Once we get around this disturbance, we're gonna separate. Jolly, you and Melantha still have enough fuel to get back. I doubt if Hermes and I do--" "How long were those Cylons chasing you?" Melantha interrupted. "Long enough. Now, listen. Jolly, Mel, you two make a run for the fleet. We'll lead the Cylons the other way, hold 'em off for as long as we can." Boomer hated doing this to the young cadet, knowing they'd never get back, but it seemed the only way. After the long patrol and the fight, they didn't have enough fuel to get back, but maybe they could elude the Cylons long enough to find refuge elsewhere. There was a moment of silence. "No," Melantha said urgently. "If the Cylons track two Vipers where there were four, they'll know what we did. If they see three of us, they'll think we lost a pilot in the fight or in the ion field. I'm sticking with you, Boomer." "Mel!" "Sergeant!" Boomer and Jolly both began to speak at the same time. "No," she repeated firmly. "It's only logical. If they realize we split up, they'll try to track both patrols. Only one of us should go. Jolly, you're a better pilot, and there's a lady who won't be very happy if you don't get back. With three of us together, we'll have a better chance of surviving too." Boomer considered her words while Jolly registered his protest. Unfortunately, she was right. Jolly would go back. If they couldn't elude the Cylons before their fuel ran out, Melantha would have to lead the enemy even further astray, as far from the fleet as possible. Boomer didn't like that idea, either. "That's it, then," he said, sighing deeply. "Jolly, get set to peel off. Hermes, Melantha, stay on me. We'll head out in just a centon. Good luck, Jolly." "You'll need it more than I will. We'll keep an eye out for you." There wasn't much else to say. If this was a Cylon quadrant, it wasn't likely the fleet could risk passing through, or that the warriors who stayed behind would be alive long enough to be rescued. Boomer made an abrupt roll around the ion field. Melantha and Hermes were right with him, the sergeant smooth and easy, the cadet slightly erratic, although quickly corrected. Jolly watched for just a micron, sending a silent prayer after them, then brought his Viper around at a ninety-degree angle to put distance between himself and his friends. He hit his turbos. Three Vipers swept away from the ion field, fleeting specks of metal in empty space. If the Cylons were still tracking them, Boomer knew they had to be sure the enemy didn't notice Jolly. "Coming up on my rear scanner," Hermes announced, a slight tremor in his voice. "Confirmed," said Melantha. "Cylons." "Then let's go." Boomer matched his words with turbo thrust. Sergeant Melantha and Cadet Hermes were right behind him. Somewhere behind them were the Cylons. The race was on. * * * * Back aboard the Galactica, Commander Adama's concern for the missing pilots was hidden by a tight-lipped mask. What was the cause? The Cylons still haunted their path. Had the warriors encountered that metal enemy, or was there another foe before them? "Commander?" Apollo stood next to him, anxiously peering at Omega's scanner. "Father? Shall I prepare a search team?" Adama shook his head. This was unknown space, with unknown enemies possibly looming ahead. He knew the missing pilots were his son's friends, and almost children to him as well, and valuable members of Blue Squadron, but the risks... "We can't risk more men in such a search, Apollo. They knew the risks, like any warrior. I don't want more people lost. We don't know what's out there." Apollo forced himself to nod, understanding, but wishing it was otherwise. They'd lost so many... "Commander!" exclaimed an excited Omega. "A ship on our scanners, one of ours!" The excitement dropped. "But only one, sir." "Can you raise the pilot?" Jolly's voice filtered through the speakers. "Lieutenant Jolly, sir." "What happened, Jolly? Where's Sergeant Melantha? Did you see Boomer and his wingman?" Adama asked tensely. "Boomer and Hermes were coming in when they encountered Cylons, sir. We rendezvoused, and destroyed six Raiders, but there were more of the tinheads coming, looked like a whole squadron. We had to run. The others tried to lead them off, while I came back to warn the fleet." A long pause. "Boomer didn't think they had enough fuel to get back, after everything else." Another pause. "Melantha stayed to...make sure they went the wrong way." There was silence on the bridge. "Did they have any idea where they might be heading?" Apollo, still at his father's side, finally asked. "Where they had to. Boomer wasn't sure." The silence deepened. Three more to be left behind. "Thank you, Jolly. You did the right thing. Welcome back," said the commander, very quietly, and very sadly. Jolly's fuel gauges read empty as he coasted to a safe landing. "Can we wait...just a little while, sir?" It was Omega who delivered the quiet plea, but Adama saw the same anguish in his son's eyes. He leaned on the console, staring at the empty screen. "A few centars. No more..." "Thank you," he heard Apollo whisper. * * * * Boomer, Hermes, and Melantha were still quite alive. Boomer brought his formation back in another close sweep of the ion field, then cut far across deep space to hide in the shadows of a star system, lurking behind a gas giant planet. In come silence, they watched their scanners in passive mode. The Cylons passed them by, hesitated just at the edge of their scanner range, then separated to cover several directions, none of which were toward the planetary system shielding them. They waited several long centons before daring to open narrow-beam communications with suppressed whoops of joy. "Where now, Boomer?" Melantha asked. Boomer took another look at his fuel gauge. It read discouragingly close to empty. "We hope this system has a planet we can survive on. We can't reach anywhere else." "I've still got some reserves," the woman responded. "I'll make a quick flyby, and let you know what's here." Her Viper rolled away toward the star. Boomer and Hermes waited impatiently, drifting, hoping there would be a safe landing site in the system. It seemed forever before Melantha reported back. "Boomer! The second planet has ample water, vegetation, and animal life. The atmosphere's breathable, just a trace more oxygen than we're used to, no poisonous trace elements. Composition and gravity are similar to Picon. Come on in. I'll look for a landing spot." Boomer acknowledged her report and turned his Viper toward the second planet. Hermes offered a muttered prayer of thanks as he followed. A gasp cut across the com line. It was Melantha. "It can't be!" Oh, no! Cylons? Boomer hoped not. "What is it?" What choice did they have if it were Cylons? "I... I thought I picked up human life forms, sir, and my readout... Just a micron, I'm checking the warbook." Humans? The warbook? Boomer waited impatiently. "Yes! It's a Colonial vessel! Academy training type. It's quiet well hidden, must be near a massive metal ore deposit...I was on top of it before I spotted it... I'm going in again, to see if we can land near it." "We're homing on you, Sergeant. Be careful." In a few centons, Melantha was safe on the surface. She hopped from her cockpit, pulled her helmet from her close black curls, and watched expectantly as two Vipers dropped from the sky to land on either side of her. Hermes made a smooth landing, but Boomer's fuel was gone. He dropped to a very bumpy landing, dipping his nose to the ground, digging a trench, and nearly toppling before skewing sideways to a halt. The other two warriors ran to his ship, but Boomer was already crawling free, apparently uninjured, safe. "I'm fine, just fine," he said, dropping to the ground, although he rubbed at his shoulder. "Now, which way to that Colonial ship?" The three pilots looked about them, studying what was probably to be their new home. They stood on a stony shelf that passed for a beach. A blue-green sea extended to the east, barely half a kilometer from them. To the west and north, even less far away, began a range of tall grasses and shrubs, in shades of green, yellow, brown, and rust. Beyond that were trees, in the same colors. To the south, a range of stone arose, forming a high cliff. They'd come in over the sea, but they could see enough vegetation to know the season was autumn. The weather was cool and dry, but not unbearably so. From the star's location, it was mid-afternoon. Melantha quickly set her bearing. She pointed south and slightly west, to a spot near the stone cliffs. "Just a few kilometers that way. They must have come in the same way we did, using the cliffs to confuse enemy scanners." "I wonder who they are," Hermes mused. Now that his feet were safely on the ground, his adventurous spirit was emerging again. He was eager to be on the way. "Probably somebody running from the Cylons, the same as us," Boomer responded. "Ready to go?" "What about our Vipers?" Boomer looked back at the three starfighters, two intact, one somewhat crumpled. "We leave 'em, for now. No one can steal 'em, there's not enough fuel left to take off. I think they're camouflaged well enough from above by the color of the sand and stone here. They should be safe enough. We better go. It's afternoon, and we want to reach those humans before dark. I don't want us stumbling around here at night." The three gathered up survival packs and weapons, then began to walk down the beach, angling toward the tall grass. Boomer led, a tall black man with a determined face and a long stride. Melantha followed, dusky-skinned, medium high, with close-cropped tight ebony curls, verbally directing the lieutenant toward the stone outcropping she was orienting on. The adventurous Hermes, a freckle-faced youth, brought up the rear, hair flaming red in the late sun, eyes curiously watching everything, keeping rear guard, content to follow. They activated no distress beacon. The only ones likely to hear it was the Cylons. They lacked the range to reach the Galactica. Several centars passed. They were quite near the cliff wall when Melantha indicated they should take a sharp turn inland. Dusk was drawing near, and the woman's dark eyes seemed black and lusterless in the darkening air. Boomer hoped the ship - or the humans in it - weren't far away, or the warriors would have to stop and camp for the night. He led more cautiously now, stepping carefully, eyes straining in the dimming light. Had something moved there? What was that? Had he seen a light? Why did he have the feeling someone or something was watching them? He rubbed his eyes. Whatever he'd seen, or thought he'd seen, it was gone. Boomer motioned the others closer. Melantha and Hermes stepped close to him. They'd been silent for some time. The darkness on a strange planet quelled even Hermes' desire for exploration. They were all nervous, feeling uneasy about the approaching night. "We ought to make a camp," Boomer said in a low voice. "We don't want to be wandering lost in this underbrush." "They can't be far," Mel insisted. "We should've found them already." "We may be traveling in circles. We'll certainly miss them in the dark." "They may not want to be found," muttered Hermes. "Kid, I wish you hadn't said that." Something rustled in the dry grass. Whatever it was, it was moving near them, closing in on them. "Lasers ready," Boomer ordered. "Shoulder to shoulder, face outward! Frak! Can't see a thing in this light..." They waited in tense silence. Some night bird hooted a warning not far from them. Hermes shifted his feet. Boomer felt the trembling in his shoulder. Melantha muttered something encouraging to the boy, easing him somewhat. Boomer took a deep breath. "Is somebody out there?" he finally called. He had to clamp down on his own nervousness when there was no response for long centons. Then, suddenly, several lights showed, flaring beyond their limited sight. They couldn't see past the glare, but something was obviously watching them. Boomer tried to shield his eyes enough to peer through the lights at whoever was behind them. A figure took shape in the glare - male, tall. The man moved closer. Boomer's fingers tightened involuntarily on his weapon, close to firing. What if these people weren't friendly? Didn't want company? They hadn't thought beyond finding fellow humans, hadn't considered they might be just as much enemies as the Cylons- "Boomer," the man said quietly. The warrior stared. The voice was familiar, and the slender, almost thin man seemed to be waiting for some sign of recognition. Who was he? Boomer searched his memories. "Don't you remember the guy who taught you everything you know about triad?" The laser dropped of its own accord. "Nestor?" he demanded incredulously. Memories burst like fireworks. Nestor! Long, long ago, this man's father had seen enough potential in a street-wise, smart-mouthed kid who hot-wired his hover mobile, to encourage him to try for the Academy, and sponsor him for admittance, when Boomer didn't even dream of it. Though a few yahrens older, Nestor had been a close friend through those tough yahrens, giving that extra helping hand with academics and sport, teaching him triad tricks and practicing with him. He taught Boomer other things, too, when Nestor was a first-yahren instructor and Boomer just a cadet at the Caprican Academy. Nestor! So many memories, so many of them pleasant. Boomer'd thought Nestor died with the rest of the Caprican Military Academy, reduced to slag in the first run of the attack... Other humans stepped out of the vegetation around them - five young men, two young women, all in the garb of cadets, their uniforms worn with long use. All were lean, but strong-looking. All held lasers, and looked ready to use them. They waited in silence. Nestor and Boomer embraced, the warm greeting of old friends. Melantha waited, open-eyed and staring. She recognized Nestor too. Hermes looked ready to jump for the sheer joy of seeing humans here - friendly humans. "Come on, kid, let's get back to camp. It gets cold out here after dark. Hey, Mel, don't just stand there like you never saw me before!" Nestor led the way at an angle through the brush. "Questions can wait 'til we're safe in camp." The Galactica warriors followed, and the unnamed cadets fell in behind them. In only a few centons, another light appeared ahead of them. In less than another half a centar, they were warming in front of a fire, nestled between a small line of shelters against the stone cliff and the metal bulk of the Thebes, a small Academy training ship. Food and a refreshing fruit drink were pressed upon them, which they hurried to finish. These people were as desperately eager to hear their tale as the warriors were to discover what had brought them here. The community clustered around, taking what must have been accustomed places. There were perhaps sixty people, most in cadet uniforms, the rest older warriors of varying ages. Across the fire from them was another man Boomer and Melantha remembered from their Academy days - Colonel Flint, one of the most demanding instructors either ever had, and one of the best. His face was older now, lined with worries, but tonight he glowed with life, fire in his eyes. Captain Nestor sat to one side. A middle-aged woman with gentle eyes sat on his other side. Boomer finally set aside his wooden bowl. "We have to thank you for your hospitality, Colonel, and your greeting," he began. "But tell us, how did you get here? How did you survive the attack on the Academy?" The older man smiled. "Easily told, Lieutenant. We were on a routine test flight with the Thebes and a batch of fourth-yahren cadets. I remember how annoyed some of them were that they'd miss the peace celebrations. A handful of instructors, ten Vipers, and warriors to fly them; you remember from your own test flights." Flint glanced around, then resumed. "They're good, all of them. They passed every test. They'd be warriors now... Hades, they are warriors, and damn good at the fine art of survival." Flint looked around again, then continued. "We were heading back in a little early to accommodate our would-be revelers when we picked up distress signals and disaster signs on every frequency. Then we ran into a Cylon patrol force. We destroyed them, but we knew there was nothing we could do about the havoc around us. There were too many Cylons. We tried to elude them, and ran." He clenched his jaw for a few microns, old bitterness and guilt in every line of his body. "There wasn't one damn thing we could do. Everything was already gone. We were lucky to escape in one piece." The Galactica trio knew the feeling. Boomer nodded, and the other two stared at the ground. That terrible helplessness... "Of course, the Cylons tried to follow us, tried to pick us off. Our cadets flew patrols, manned the Thebes, and probably learned more in the next secton than they would've in the rest of the yahren. Somehow, we lost the Cylons. Don't ask me how. "Our main problem after that was getting supplies. We needed fuel, food, water. We had no place to go, and it seemed the Cylons were everywhere. We had no strength to fight into or out of anything. We had to sneak, and conserve, and be very careful. Finally, we couldn't go any further. "With some careful flying, we brought the Thebes to a landing here, coming over the sea. At least here, we'd have food and water and air to breathe, and we hoped it was reasonably safe. We set up a base and started learning about our new world. We know our way around now, and we've got our own defense system set up, if we should need it. If anything happens, we have a place to retreat to that the Cylons shouldn't be able to find." "You think you can hide out here forever?" Boomer interrupted in amazement. Flint eyed him evenly. "Not forever. Just while they're here. There's nothing else here they'll be interested in, once they think they've wiped us out." Melantha shivered, knowing what this might mean, that some of these people would sacrifice themselves to save the others, to make the Cylons think they'd destroyed every human here. Flint continued. "Sixty-three people survived to reach this planet. That was a yahren ago. As seems to be human nature, we've got a colony established. And as is also human nature, there are three infants here, with that many more pregnancies confirmed by our med tech. We are human; we're determined to do more than just exist. "But now, what about you? How did you come here? Did something of the Colonies survive after all? Is there some place else we can go? Or are you as lost as we are?" he finished, gazing keenly at Boomer, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. Boomer was silent for a micron. "As you probably guessed that great peace treaty we expected was a hoax. The Cylons ambushed the fleet, and attacked our home worlds. There was no time to react, no time to save anything. The Galactica survived, under Commander Adama-" Here, Flint reacted with an approving nod. "-And gathered all the survivors we could find, 220 ships of every type you can imagine. Commander Adama believes we can find sanctuary and help with a Thirteenth Colony, one called Earth, somewhere out there." Flint nodded again. "Yes," he murmured, "I've heard of this Earth..." Boomer gestured at the other two. "We were on a routine patrol when we encountered Cylons. One of our pilots went back to warn the fleet while we tried to lead the Cylons the other way. When we lost them we didn't have the fuel to get anywhere else, so we came to the nearest habitable planet - here. And here we'll have to stay, if you'll have us. We don't have fuel to get anywhere else, or any idea where else we'd go." Flint gestured at his group. "There's always room here for more humans. So few survived..." He shook his head, the firelight making his gray-streaked hair shine like silver. "There seem to be scattered outposts the Cylons aren't interested in. We know the Pegasus survived, but we lost touch with them at Gamoray, and we don't know if they lived through that battle. We don't know about any others..." Boomer's voice trailed off, and he shrugged, the gestures telling much. Flint nodded yet again. "That's better than we thought. We were really afraid we were the last humans. It's good to know we're not alone, even if the others're scattered and running. At least we're alive. Humanity survives." A small cry rose in the darkness, an infant's wail. A woman went to answer it. "Is there any chance the Galactica will look for you?" Nestor asked, several centons later. The murmur of conversation that had grown instantly died away. "They wouldn't know where to begin," Boomer replied. "And they can't risk staying too long either in a Cylon quadrant." "Our distress signal couldn't reach that far, anyway," Hermes added, "if we could risk one at all." Colonel Flint and Captain Nestor both looked at the woman beside them. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on something. "Would you know where to send a directional signal?" she asked sharply. Boomer stared. "I could work it out, with a little help, I think. Why?" She smiled grimly. "We may be out of fuel, but everything on the Thebes is in perfect working order. We've kept her in flyable condition. If you can give us the coordinates, we can send a tight beam signal, on a scrambler com line, that they can receive." Boomer's eyes widened, then quickly narrowed as he considered the necessary variables. Sudden smiles appeared through the group. Young men and women previously resigned to living and dying on this world within the reach of the Cylons suddenly saw a gleam of hope. They might have a chance to rejoin humanity. "The Cylons haven't crushed our spirit yet!" Flint declared. "This is Major Urania, a communications specialist - and an expert in a lot of things. Get on it, crew!" he ordered. "Let's go," Urania said as she got to her feet. "We need to send a signal as soon as possible, before your ship travels even farther away." Flint and Boomer stood eager to get started. Nestor noticed that Cadet Hermes had fallen asleep over his meal, and Mel seemed about to do the same. "What about these two?" he asked. "Do we need them tonight, or should I put them to bed." Melantha tried to look more alert. Flint smiled down at her. "Put them to bed, Nestor. Then get your tail to the Thebes. We may need some of your expertise too." The officers dashed after Urania and Boomer, while Nestor helped Mel to her feet and shook Hermes. "C'mon, kid," he said kindly. Hermes blinked and pulled himself upright, staring at the people streaming toward the starcraft. "Doesn't anybody sleep around here?" he asked, yawning in confusion. Nestor led them to small shelters along the cliff. Hermes was to stay with two other cadets. Both were busy aboard the Thebes. The youth dropped onto the indicated bunk against one wall, asleep almost before Nestor left the cabin. Melantha was led to a matching shelter, wood-framed and roughly shingled. Inside, a small light illuminated the primitive home. One large bunk covered the rear wall. To its left was a small cradle. A blonde woman leaned over the cradle, crooning softly. There was something familiar about her. Nestor left without a word. The woman rose, turned, and smiled warmly. Melantha's mouth dropped, and she nearly fainted. "Hi, Mel," the woman said softly. "Remember me? Nestor and I're putting you up 'til we get things settled." "Io? How could I forget? What in hades...?" "Shhh! Don't wake the baby, please. She just went to sleep." Then the two women were embracing, tears falling unchecked. In the Academy, they'd been the best of friends, roommates, part of a training team. Graduation separated them. In all their dreams, then in the nightmare of the Destruction, they had never expected to be reunited, certainly not in such a way, in such a place. They slipped out the door to sit in the darkness, close together, heads bent to exchange whispered stories of the yahrens between them. They fell asleep as they had so many times in the past, heads together in the darkness of night. Aboard the Thebes, in the communications core, a handful of Colonial warriors worked over frequencies and coordinates and codes, preparing a message to summon the Galactica without also summoning the Cylons. In the dark centar just before dawn, a message went out. Boomer finally gave in to his weariness, collapsing in the Thebes' pilot lounge. The others returned to their huts to catch a few centars' sleep before a busy day. * * * * The Battlestar Galactica moved slowly, majestically, against the star pattern beyond her. Her fleet was strung behind, rhinestones to the more brilliant gems of the stars. Patrol ships came and went. Jolly had returned a day ago, and there'd been no trace of the three missing pilots since then. They were gone. Their friends waited in silence, hoping against hope; finally, Commander Adama felt he could risk no more delay. He ordered the fleet to get underway again. Apollo and Starbuck stood at the commander's side, having just returned from a fruitless, longer-than-ordered patrol. Starbuck walked out without a word. Apollo bowed his head, maintaining his silence. Colonel Tigh touched Adama's shoulder briefly, offering what support he could and acknowledging his sorrow. "We do what we must," he said to his commander and friend, his voice low. Then he returned to his duties. Amazingly, the Galactica was where Boomer and Urania had figured her to be. The tight-beam transmission came in just as the fleet began to move. "Sir!" Omega called with guarded excitement. "We're picking up some strange signals! It seems to be a series of numerals, perhaps a set of coordinates! And it's on Com Line Alpha, in a warship code!" Adama stared. Com Line Alpha, in a warship code? Who would have access to it? Could it be the Pegasus again...? He stood at the bridge officer's shoulder, studying the signal dashing across Omega's board, Tigh and Apollo right behind him. Omega touched a switch, and the code formed a series of numbers. "Definitely a coordinate system, but for what? And what about the second series?" the young officer asked. Adama glanced at the wide-eyed Apollo. "Check the second series against the service records of our missing pilots, Omega," he ordered. A huge grin appeared on the young man's face, echoing the expression on Apollo's features as he read the console over the bridge officer's shoulder. "Service number of Lieutenant Boomer, sir!" Omega reported. A brief cheer rang across the bridge. "Do we investigate these coordinates, Commander?" Tigh asked. Apollo was already halfway to the launch bay when his father gave the order to launch a shuttle with Viper escort. Starbuck and Sheba heard the word and quickly joined the rescue unit. Adama was left to wonder just how in hades Boomer had obtained access to Com. Line Alpha, and how he knew exactly that code, one restricted to warships. Was it a trap? But the young warriors wouldn't be halted; these were their friends. Adama waited - and worried. * * * * In the morning, Cadet Hermes hiked back to the stranded Vipers and set a limited-range distress beacon, giving any rescuers something to home in on. Then he returned to camp to wait. The reaction of the Thebes when Colonial Vipers suddenly swept over them was ecstatic. Several centons of pandemonium occurred when the Vipers and the shuttle landed. Apollo located Boomer in the crowd. His friend was staring at the shuttle and shaking his head. "Captain," Boomer said, laughing, "they'll never all fit in one shuttle!" "We can have another one here in a few centars!" Apollo promised. "Negative," boomed a rough voice. "Huh?" Apollo turned to face Colonel Flint. "My ship's spaceworthy. We've kept her that way. We still have Vipers in good condition. I understand the fleet has a crowding problem anyway. We want to take the Thebes with us." "But how?" Apollo asked. "We don't have the time or equipment or fuel to try and raise her." "I told you, she's spaceworthy, and she can launch from a planet; she's designed for it. You have to bring another shuttle anyway, Captain. Bring fuel. If we fail, we'll take your shuttles. But we have to try. I'm not leaving this lady alone if we don't have to." Apollo briefly studied both Flint and the looming starship, then he nodded. "I understand, sir. We'll try." The Thebes crew prepared for launch while a second Galactica shuttle, carrying fuel pods, was dispatched to the planet. The only crew members who could be convinced to take places in the shuttle were the pregnant women. The rest, even the young mothers, insisted on taking their assigned posts aboard the Thebes. It was a proud moment for Colonel Flint when "his lady" rose from the stone cliffs, reaching again for her starry home, with two shuttles flanking her and a number of Vipers flying escort. She sailed gracefully, joyfully, to join her sisters in the fleet, not like the refugee of a yahren, but as a proud member of a mighty group. The population of that fleet cheered as the Thebes took her designated position in the line of assorted craft. Commander Adama stood by to welcome her crew as the first half boarded the Galactica for required medical checks. "Welcome back, Boomer," he said as the warrior disembarked from the shuttle. "Quite a patrol you've had." "Wait 'til you see my report, sir," Boomer replied, smiling broadly. "And it's good to be back!" Then he ducked aside as Colonel Flint approached. The men shook hands briefly, then were separated in the milling crowd. Adama noticed Apollo and Melantha talking to a blonde woman with a child, while a dark-haired stranger hovered near them. He crossed the deck to join the group. "Welcome back, Io," he said, finally placing the woman. Her mother had been a friend and fellow officer, before that fateful battle at Molecay. "You appear to have fared rather well down there." Her face was wreathed in smiles as she nodded at him. "Yes, sir, but it's good to get away from there, too. It was too close to Cylon for me." The dark-haired child squirmed in her arms. "This is my daughter," Io said softly. "Her name is Hera." "After your mother." She nodded. "Colonel Flint sealed Nestor--" She gestured at the stranger. "-And me the first day on the planet. He thought it best we try to set our lives on an even keel as soon as possible. Hera's only a few sectars old. I'm glad she's got more ahead of her now than just surviving on a primitive planet." Adama tickled the infant's chin. She gurgled at him. "We hope so, anyway." Somebody called her name. "My turn, I guess," Io apologized, then hurried away, her husband right behind her. Adama watched the tiny head peering at him over the woman's shoulder. He thought of Boxey, remembered Apollo, Athena, and Zac as children, thought of all the children in the fleet. "We have to make a future for them," he murmured to himself. He'd forgotten the boy grown into a man, who stood at his side. "We will," Apollo replied quietly. The words were a vow, as the eyes of father and son met in perfect understanding. - The End -