BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: LOST PLANET OF THE GODS By Eric J. Paddon Based on an original teleplay by Glen A. Larson and Donald Bellisario Battlestar Galactica created by Glen A. Larson This is a work of fan-fiction and is not intended to infringe on any copyright laws Battlestar Galactica: Lost Planet Of The Gods Prelude It seemed like an eternity to Baltar since Imperious Leader had ordered him removed from the Leader's chambers to await eventual execution. So great was his fury and rage that the traitor's mind had scarcely taken note of his being transported in a shuttle to one of the other basestars, where he'd been tossed into one of their cold, dark prison cells. The only thought that filled his mind was a desire for revenge against the Cylons. A desire to make the Imperious Leader learn to regret the consequences of double-crossing him. There was almost nothing for him to do in the cold cell except huddle in a corner and let his mind run amuck with fantasies of how he could pull his desire for revenge off. To make the Cylons pay for double-crossing him and destroying all his dreams of wealth, power and glory. Only briefly, did he stop to think of his people on Piscera, and his wife, Ayesha. How they had died as a result of his actions, and because he had foolishly trusted the Cylons to keep their word. It didn't take him long to realize that thinking of them was too much for his psyche to bear. It only served to make him feel guilty and bring home the shame of his actions to his tortured soul. It's a sign of weakness to think of them, he thought. Don't think of them at all. Forget them. Think only of revenge. Revenge. Especially since he knew that if Ayesha were alive and able to speak to him now, her first instinct would be to spit in his face and express nothing but hatred for him. No amounts of pleas about how he'd done it for her, and wanted to make her a queen of all humanity would have done any good with her. For all of her ambition and greed, this was one idea she never would have contemplated. He'd known that. That was why he'd never summoned the nerve to tell her about it in advance. Already, he'd had one nightmare of seeing Ayesha lying in the gutter of a prison cell next to him with a look of pure, cold emotionless hate on her once-beautiful but now battered face. He couldn't bear to think of her any longer, because he knew it would mean more nightmares and more guilt. And so he had rechanneled all of his emotions to the single-minded goal of achieving revenge against the Cylons. It was the only thing that literally kept him alive as the cold, dark days of isolation progressed in his cell. Only twice a day was a small container of water shoved inside the door, with no food provided at all. Finally, on the eighth day, his cell door at last opened and two centurions promptly dragged him out without saying a word to him. As he felt their powerful mechanical arms drag him down the corridors of the basestar, a sense of inevitability about his fate began to take hold. Like a frightened child, he began to sob hysterically as his mind easily pictured the sight of a centurion holding the long blade of a battle sword above his neck. And then bringing it down in full fury to separate Baltar's head from his shoulders. The centurions herded him into a familiar looking room. Baltar barely took an instant to glance up and see the sight of Imperious Leader perched on his throne. Finally, the centurions let go of him and Baltar collapsed to the floor. "You are Baltar?" the Leader spoke in a courteous tone of voice. Baltar felt like laughing. Only a sectan and he's forgotten already? "As though you didn't remember, Your Eminence!" he placed a heavy amount of sarcasm on the title as he slowly came up to a kneeling position. There was a brief pause before the Cylon ruler spoke. "It would seem that my predecessor has left me with a difficult choice." Baltar forced himself to look up at the throne and felt his inner hysteria give way to befuddlement. "Your....predecessor?" "Was destroyed by your peers at Carillon," the Leader sighed, "A victim of the human desire to live." Bewilderment went through Baltar. Imperious Leader dead. The object of all his hatred gone forever. If he were to have any chance at all, Baltar realized that the last thing he needed to do was antagonize this new leader. "I, I tried to warn him!" Baltar said with deference, "I...I could have prevented him from----" "So it would seem," the Leader said as if in resignation. He then gazed down at the traitor, "Since the task of ruling the Empire fell to me, I have spent much time examining your epistle Baltar. In light of the fact that the humans have been able to escape from our detection, perhaps it is possible that you could help lead us to them." Baltar slowly got to his feet as he felt a sense of incredulity that this turn of events was taking place. "Why, why yes!" he smiled, "Yes Imperious Leader, that is true. I, I think as they do. I, I know where they will go and what they must do." "I find your reasoning quite logical," the Cylon ruler said, "At this very micron, circumstances have forced me to disperse much of our Fleet across the reaches of the galaxy and I have been less than pleased with the lack of progress from my commanders. Perhaps it is possible that they lack the necessary qualities of leadership needed to locate them, that you alone might possess." The traitor felt a relieved smile come over his face, "Then...I am to be--" "Spared." Imperious Leader finished the sentence for him. Baltar felt the surge of relief coursing through him to the point where he felt as though he'd been reborn. "To serve the Empire!" he said boldly. "Indeed," the Leader nodded, "I shall place you under command of this very basestar. The affairs of running the Empire are so great that I have no intention of being as rash as my predecessor was, and searching for the Galactica myself. The entire complement of centurions aboard this ship will be completely at your disposal." At that instant, the doors behind them opened and an IL Cylon entered the room. "Lucifer," the Cylon ruler spoke, "Take Baltar down to the lower levels and provide him with some sustenance and fresh clothing. See to it that he is fully briefed on the situation. I shall be leaving to begin my return to Cylon within a centar." "By your command, Your Eminence," the IL called Lucifer bowed and came alongside Baltar, "If you will accompany me, Count Baltar?" With some trepidation, Baltar began to follow Lucifer out of the throne room. "It will be a pleasure to work with you, Baltar," Lucifer said as they entered the outer corridor, "This should prove to be a most fascinating and rewarding experience." "Indeed," the traitor managed to nod. "I think I can assure you, with some sense of pride, that you will inherit the most capable of centurions in the Empire." Incredible, Baltar thought to himself. This is exactly the turn of events I've been hoping for. I now have a chance to extract my revenge against these demons. If he had any hope of making his fantasy a reality though, then two things needed to happen. He needed to first do just what the Cylon ruler wanted him to do, and locate the Battlestar Galactica and her rag-tag fleet of survivors. And once he had accomplished that, it would be a matter of finding the right opportunity to make contact with Commander Adama and put his plan of achieving revenge against the Cylons into effect. Provided that Adama was willing to take the risk of trusting him again. Prologue: From The Adama Journals One sectar has passed since our escape from the deathtrap at Carillon. It has been by far the longest sectar in the lives of all of us, who now comprise this ragtag fleet of 70,000 wandering souls crammed into 220 odd ships, searching for a distant dream located on a planet known to us only from ancient writings. A dream that I have had to work with all my strength to make them believe in, so that the spark of hope can still burn within their souls. Without that spark of hope, we set ourselves up for potential disillusionment, willing to reach out for a quick and easy solution to our problem, just as we nearly did at Carillon, and in the end risk the destruction of all that remains of what was once the greatest, noblest civilization in the known universe. After one sectar, I have the feeling that the spark does exist within our people. We seem to have come to terms with the sad fact that the life we all knew in the Colonies is gone and lost to us forever. That there can never be any recovery of the things we took for granted in our lives that came as a result of living in a prosperous society where good food and luxury items had become the norm for almost all of us. That all of us must learn to accept the loss of homes, land, friends and loved ones, and do what we can to help us all survive for the future. So that on the day when we or our descendants locate this elusive Thirteenth tribe of humanity on a planet called Earth, it will be because of hard work and sacrifice. Nothing gives me greater relief than to see that both my remaining children have in their own way, been able to move on from the tragedy of losing their mother and Zac, and are keeping that forward vision all of us need. In Apollo's case, it's been easier for him in that for the first time in his life, after seven yahrens of shy aloofness, he's genuinely fallen in love with a woman and it's become serious. With Serina, the former news reporter for Caprica's BNC network. I've at least had the privilege of knowing her for several yahrens through the interviews she'd done with me, so I know firsthand that Apollo's found a fine woman for himself. It almost seems clear to me and everyone else who knows them that an engagement announcement is all but imminent. And it wouldn't surprise me if this dinner party in my quarters this evening that's been arranged, is to be the occasion for that. If a sealing between Apollo and Serina does come to pass, not only would I be overjoyed by the thought of gaining a daughter, but a grandson as well. Serina's son Boxey is truly a joy. His sense of precociousness reminds me so much of Apollo when he was a boy. And so, these hopeful developments with Apollo and Serina have done much to ease the inner pain within me following the deaths of both Ila and Zac. Dimmed now to the point where the only death I still feel a sense of great loss over is not that of my wife or my youngest child, but that of Commander Fairfax. I will forever be haunted by the unanswerable question of whether or not his suicide hit on the basestar at Carillon was the key to its destruction. Never to know if the great commander of the Battlestar Columbia was sacrificing himself for the good of the Fleet, or throwing his life away because he saw no future for himself in a life where he could never command a battlestar again. And if it were the latter, does partial responsibility then rest with me for not having done a better job of taking him into my confidence during that time at Carillon? I suppose the reason why I still feel the loss of Fairfax so much is because he was the only person left in this Fleet who was truly a peer of mine. An equal who held the same responsibilities I did at the time of the Holocaust. That isn't true of anyone left now, and I find myself missing the counsel of someone unafraid to speak their mind and doing it in a voice I could instinctively respect. Fairfax was like that. So was the late Commander Cain. Lords, how I wish there could have been just one man like that left among us. If anything, the burden that now rests on me as the leader of the Fleet wouldn't seem so....total. And at this time, what really makes the burden seem so total is that I have this Fleet of 70,000 headed toward something that even if real, I have no conception of what the right direction is. All I can be certain is that it lies far beyond the reaches of charted space to us. If there is any hope of finding a clue to the direction the Thirteenth tribe took to Earth, it will only come once the stars cease to be familiar to us, and the planets we pass no longer have any names known to us. Right now, we are still a long ways from that. My faith in the wisdom of our course is secure even in the absence of a definite sign. But even so, I pray for one with all my strength just the same. Chapter One "You sure he's going to be there?" the unease in Boomer's voice was easily discernible. Starbuck let out a reassuring laugh as he guided the shuttle toward the distant outline of the luxury ship Rising Star. "Boomer, that's only the tenth time you've asked me that question since we left the Galactica. Of course he's going to be there. Helton owes me a big favor and what a better way for him to make good on his debt than by getting us a whole case of ambrosia." "How did this guy end up owing you a favor like that?" Boomer still couldn't believe that he was now at this moment engaging in what amounted to a smuggling action that could lead to severe consequences if it were ever discovered by anyone in authority. "Because he made the mistake of hovering with a three-quarters Pyramid and raising a thousand cubits that he didn't have," Starbuck smirked. "So naturally, he had to come up with the most appropriate alternative to cash in order to settle his debt with me." The dark-skinned warrior eyed him with disgust. "Knowing you, I'll bet you had a loaded deck at the time." "Aw, c'mon Boomer. Once in a while the fates do reward a master player such as me." "I'll believe that only when I see it." He looked out and could see the Rising Star growing more distinct. "Anyway, are you really sure that we're going to be needing that whole case tomorrow?" "I'm sure," Starbuck's tone grew serious. "As soon as Apollo told me there was going to be this intimate little dinner in Adama's quarters tonight, all I needed to do was quietly bribe Boxey with a mushie to confirm it. He's proposed to Serina, and tonight's the night they announce it to the family." For the first time, a smile came over Boomer's voice. "Lucky you that they consider you as family." Starbuck glanced at his friend and then felt slightly uncomfortable. "Oh....well, I don't think they're slighting you Boomer, but ahh....." "Forget it," Boomer waved his hand. "You and Apollo have always had that kind of certain.....togetherness. I'm not about to be jealous over a thing like that." He paused, "Of course, being serious with Athena for so long hasn't hurt either." The blonde warrior avoided looking at him. "Yeah...., although Athena and I haven't been as serious as we used to be." "Oh?" Boomer raised an eyebrow. "Since when?" "Since just after the Holocaust." Starbuck decided it was time to be candid with someone about that. Boomer was by far the best person to do that with, since he wasn't sure he could ever level with Apollo about the reasons why his relationship with Apollo's sister had suddenly become more strained. "We.... had a long talk that.....didn't go well. It's not that I'd say we're now a dead item, it's just that....well it's not what it used to be anymore." "I see," Boomer nodded and then snapped his fingers. "Does a certain socialator you met on the Gemonese freighter have anything to do with that too?" "She's not a socialator anymore!" Starbuck suddenly whipped his head around and glared at him. Boomer was taken aback to see his friend's nostrils almost flaring with anger. In an instant though, Starbuck quickly shook his head as though he were trying to shake off all the sudden anger he'd just felt. "I mean....that is, she's not...." he then cleared his throat. "Uh, Cassiopeia's got a new job. She joined Dr. Salik's staff as a new med-tech a couple sectans ago." "Oh," Boomer said, still amazed at how the comment had struck such a nerve with Starbuck. That automatically told him that Starbuck's newfound interest in the stunningly beautiful blonde woman named Cassiopeia was not a mere diversion from Starbuck's standpoint. "I see, well that's good. I know the staff's still trying to recover from losing Dr. Paye at Carillon. They can use all the help they can get." "Yeah," Starbuck nodded then glanced apologetically at Boomer, "Sorry, Boomer, I...." "Forget it," his friend waved his hand disarmingly. "This isn't the first time I've seen you in this position, Bucko." "I know," Starbuck admitted as he drew the shuttle into a final approach to the Rising Star. "But I don't think it's quite the same as when I was juggling Aurora and Athena. It's just that Cassiopeia seems so....different from either of them." "So already you're leaning more toward her?" "Hey, I didn't say that." he cautioned. "I mean, I haven't made any kind of decision and don't intend to. Not now at least." "Of course," Boomer noted dryly, "That wouldn't be standard procedure for you." "Not like Apollo," Starbuck then deftly changed the subject. "Apollo thinks he needs to cope with all that's happened in the last sectar by reaching out for the first opportunity to come his way. That's why he and Serina are making their announcement tonight." Boomer decided not to comment on Starbuck's changing of the subject. "You're not putting him down for that, are you?" "Me?" he looked at him in surprise, "Why should I do that?" He then quickly pressed his communicator. "Rising Star control, this is Galactica Alpha 2 Shuttle requesting immediate landing clearance in Cargo Bay #2." "Affirmative Galactica shuttle. Cleared to land in Cargo Bay #2." "I don't know," Boomer resumed the conversation. "I'm sort of getting the impression that you're a bit lukewarm to the idea of Apollo getting sealed." "Hey, I wouldn't put it that way," Starbuck said as he focused his eyes on the now open cargo landing bay on the lower section of the Rising Star's hull. The luxury ship had four such landing bays designed to receive cargo shuttles, while the passenger shuttles always docked on the upper section of the hull. "It's just that....getting sealed is the biggest decision in any man's life. It isn't something that should be rushed." "What, you think Apollo and Serina haven't known each other long enough?" "I didn't say that," the defensive edge entered Starbuck's voice again. "I was just making an observation. That's all." "Going to make your observations tonight at the dinner?" Boomer noted dryly again as the shuttle passed through the opening and into the cargo landing bay. "What, and make Apollo do something that would make the whole point of getting all this ambrosia meaningless?" Starbuck smirked at his friend and powered the engines off. "Not in a million yahrens." Boomer let out a chuckle and then glanced out the window, "I just hope your friend Helton isn't waiting with a Council Security goon." "Not if he wants to maintain the use of both his legs for the rest of his life," Starbuck said. The dark-skinned warrior glanced at him in disbelief. "You told him that?" "Sure," Starbuck grinned. "How else could I guarantee results?" He then paused for effect as he unhitched his belt. "Sometimes you've got to know when to bluff in places other than in Pyramid." Boomer then laughed as he realized what Starbuck meant. "I can hardly wait for the day to come when you'll need me to bail you out of a fix that you couldn't bluff your way out of." The two of them stepped out of the shuttle and into the dimly lit cargo bay. Large numbers of crates were packed up against the sides of the hangar with loading machinery standing by for use in transporting the crates to their appropriate sections. "Helton?" Starbuck called out, not seeing any signs of movement in the hangar. One figure then tentatively emerged from behind several stacks of crates at the other end of the room, holding one crate in his arms. He wore the red uniform of a maintenance technician, and looked visibly agitated "Helton, you're a sight for sore eyes." Starbuck grinned as the technician approached. "Especially with that lovely crate in your arms." The grim-faced Helton came to a stop in front of the blonde warrior and promptly let go of the crate, which almost caught Starbuck off-guard. He had to bend slightly to catch it after it had fallen an inch in the air. "Hey, what's the matter with you? Trying to smash it before I get a chance to drink any of it?" "It'd serve you right, you lousy Sagitarian snake," Helton finally spoke, his voice dripping with contempt. "You'll never convince me in a million yahrens that game was on the level." "Prove it, Helton." Starbuck grinned sheepishly as he handed the crate to Boomer, "Boomer, get this lovely cargo secure." "Sure," Boomer tried to conceal the uneasiness he felt as he took it and then glanced at the writing on the case. "Caprican vintage, 7334. I didn't know there was any of that left." "After you clowns get through with it, there won't be," Helton said. "That's from Sire Uri's personal storage bunker on Level 3. And you have no idea what kind of hell I went through to get that out of there." "Relax Helton." Starbuck's tone grew serious as he put a hand on the technician's shoulder. "If Sire Uri finds out, then you mention Boomer's and my name to him, and tell that little slug that we decided to accept something in lieu of that Gold Cluster he never got around to giving us on Carillon." A half-smirk finally came over Helton's face. "I'll tell him. But I'm also going to tell every person I know on this ship to avoid playing Pyramid with you, and you can't stop me from that." "If you tell them I cheat, then you're in big trouble Helton. Just remember that," the blonde warrior's voice grew cold. "I meant what I said." The technician stiffened and abruptly turned and departed the hangar at a brisk pace. "It's all secure, Bucko," Boomer called from inside the shuttle. "Now let's get out of here, fast." Starbuck let out a satisfied chuckle as he went up the ramp, and back into the shuttle. As Apollo walked through the corridors that led to Serina's quarters, he had the sensation of being an inch off the ground. It had been that way ever since he had found the strength to finally propose to her the previous evening, when he had taken her up to the isolated loneliness of the abandoned Celestial Dome above the battlestar's main thrusters. And now, he wondered if he'd ever be able to fully come back down again. It was amazing enough to think that after all these yahrens he had finally found himself deeply in love with a woman, but what it made all the more incredible to him was that he had long admired Serina from afar during her time as Caprica's most famous newswoman. Always thinking in the back of his mind that the ideal woman for him would be someone just like her. How ironic it was then, that the tragedy of the Holocaust had managed to bring them together in the most unexpected fashion. He stopped in front of her door and rang the chime. "Serina?" He called. Several microns went by before the door opened. Serina was already dressed in her formal gown for dinner but had yet to style her hair. "Hi," she smiled brightly at him. "You're a few centons early." "Just wanted to make sure everything was all set." "It's all taken care of. Athena and I spent the better part of two centars down in the Main Kitchen to make sure this would come out just right. We weren't about to entrust a meal this exquisite to some Kitchen Hall cook." "And they'll be bringing it up?" "In another thirty centons to Adama's quarters as soon as it's been heated properly. Fortunately we didn't have to stick around to watch that." He nodded and glanced inside, "Boxey not around?" "Already left because Adama promised to spend some time with him before we arrived." She paused. "Looks as though he's already found himself a grandfather too." "Definitely," he entered the room and as soon as the door closed, immediately took the opportunity to take her in his arms and kiss her. When they had finished, Serina smiled mischievously at him, "Feeling impulsive tonight, aren't we, my captain?" "In every sense of the word," Apollo returned it and kissed her again. "Enough to make me wish for just a micron that we could get sealed tonight." "And miss the opportunity to see me in a sealing gown?" she teased him. "True," Apollo nodded. "There is the advantage to that. It's just that....well, after going almost two sectans with hardly any time to see you at all before last night, I think I'm just looking forward a lot to spending all my time with you." The mischievous edge faded from Serina's smile and she gently released herself. "Give me a centon to fix my hair and I'll be ready." "Okay," he nodded and then playfully ran his hand through her waist length hair. "Maybe you should just leave it as is for tonight." "And make myself a disgrace to the world of style and fashion?" Serina jokingly retorted as she disappeared into the next room. "I've never understood that little rule of fashion protocol that says a woman with long hair must have it styled and piled up for formal occasions." Her fiancee said as he settled himself into a chair. "Keeping it all down should look just as good in formal attire." "That's easy for you to say," she said from the next room. Apollo laughed and then changed the subject, "Say by the way, I've heard some rumors that they'll be setting up a videocom broadcast network for the Fleet based on the Electronics ship. Something to give the people a general civilian news and information service." "Yes, I heard about that." A faint edge of uneasiness seemed to enter Serina's voice. "My old director at the BNC, Heller, volunteered to be their technical operations supervisor." "That's good." Apollo said idly, having missed the uneasy edge in his fiancee's voice. "I guess it'll feel good to be working with him again, right?" There was no answer from the next room. "Serina?" Apollo frowned. Serina emerged a few microns later, her hair now swept up and elegantly styled. "Sorry, Apollo, I didn't hear you." "I said it'll feel good to work with Heller again, won't it?" She seemed to choose her next words carefully. "If I decide to join their operation." Apollo frowned. "You mean you haven't signed up for them?" "No," she shook her head. "Then what have you been doing the last two sectans?" Before she could say anything else, the chime sounded, and Serina quickly went over to answer it, feeling glad that there'd been an interruption at this point. When the door opened, a beaming Athena, also looking stunning in a formal gown, stood there with Starbuck, in full dress uniform, by her side. The blonde warrior was all smiles, but didn't seem to project the same level of exuberance Athena did. "Hi," Athena said, "All set?" "I'm ready," Serina turned around and looked at Apollo, "How about you?" "I'm set," Apollo was still slightly puzzled by the new information he'd learned. "Hey, wait a centon," Starbuck entered the room and stared at his friend, who wore a simple warrior's tunic with no jacket. "I thought this was a formal occasion." "Well, in a way it is, but..." "Then how come I'm wearing one of these blasted things, and you're not?" Starbuck disdainfully tugged at his cape. Apollo blinked slightly as it hit him. "Hey, I didn't say full dress was required, Starbuck. Just no battle jacket, that's all." "Now he tells me," Starbuck then undid the fastener and removed his cape. He then hurled it onto the nearby chair that Apollo had vacated. "Relax, Starbuck," Athena said as she took his arm. The blonde warrior smiled at her, "Sure. After all, I wouldn't think of letting my disdain for dress uniforms interfere with this big night, right?" he glanced coyly at Apollo and Serina. "Did we say this was a big night?" Apollo said casually. "Just a little intimate dinner among family and friends, that's all. Right, Serina?" "Of course," her tone was equally casual. Starbuck found himself resisting the temptation to say anything that would reveal his knowledge of what would be announced this evening. Instead, he simply nodded, "Okay, I'll take your word for it. Shall we go?" "Of course." Apollo nodded and locked arms with Serina, "Mustn't keep the Commander waiting." A centar later, the six people gathered in Adama's quarters had all finished their sumptuous meal. As Serina gathered the now empty dishes, Adama was leaning back in his chair at the head of the table with a thoroughly satisfied expression. "Serina," Adama raised his chalice, "I can't remember when I had such a wonderful repast. You outdid yourself." Serina smiled as she set the dishes down and resumed her seat next to Apollo. "I can't take all the credit, Commander. When it comes to cooking, I'm usually all thumbs. If it weren't for Athena, I'd have done no better than the typical Kitchen Hall chef." "She's being too modest," Athena spoke up. "You should have seen her down there, watching everything like an Aquarian fowler to make sure the marinade and spices were just perfect." "Well believe me Serina," Adama went on, "I am an expert in culinary graces. And there is no question that after savoring this wonderful dinner, you are a genuine find." "She certainly is," Starbuck chimed in. "And if I were forty yahrens younger...." Adama pointed with emphasis and then tellingly trailed off. At the other end of the table, Apollo began to shift uneasily in his chair. He was beginning to sense that his hopes of keeping everything secret until the appropriate centon weren't going to come to pass. "But," the commander shrugged and went on, "Some young man will soon fall into the lap of early glory. It can only be a short matter of time for you." Serina coyly smiled at Apollo, who was beginning to blush red with embarrassment. Across from Apollo, Boxey was looking at him with puzzlement, thinking that now was going to be the time for Apollo to make the announcement that he already knew would be coming tonight. The six yahren old boy then decided to prod things alone. "You know, I was told in instructional period that some people are just naturally slow." Serina stared at her son in amazement that he'd resorted to the bold step of speaking out on the subject. "It doesn't mean they're actually stupid," Boxey went on. "Just slow." Starbuck felt himself coughing to cover up the chuckle that had been rising in his throat. "You know, Commander," the blonde warrior regained his composure, "The real problem with cooking like this is that a couple meals a day, a fellow wouldn't be able to climb into a cockpit. We'd be a whole squadron full of Jollys." "I'd like to see you say that in front of him, Starbuck," Apollo finally broke his silence. "Hey come on, Jolly's practically a kinsman to me. He knows it's all in good fun." Starbuck waved his hand and glanced back at Adama, "But I am right, aren't I, Commander?" "About the cooking, yes," Adama pressed on with emphasis, "And that is exactly the trouble. If you warriors were able to eat like the elite class on the Rising Star can every cycle, it would be dire for us all. As a matter of fact, you and Apollo I believe have advance patrol duty first thing in the morning?" "Yes, we do," Apollo nodded. "Boomer and Jolly will be handling the other flank." "Well, I don't wish to bring this momentous evening to a close," Adama said as he consulted his chronometer. "But we have been gorging ourselves on this delicious food for nearly a centar now, waiting....." he purposefully trailed off. With a faint edge of exasperation, Apollo threw down his napkin and got to his feet. "All right," he said trying to smile, "All right, since it looks as though security on this matter has sprung a leak," he came over to Serina and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Serina and I have decided, that is if Boxey is willing and supportive," he glanced over at the little boy who was already beaming. "We would like very much to get married." Everyone else in the room began to applaud. Athena got up from her seat and came over to Apollo, giving her brother a warm embrace. "I'm so happy for you," Athena said, "I just didn't think you'd get around to it." "Neither did I," Apollo laughed, feeling all the embarrassment and uneasiness gone now that it was finally out in the open. "Command..." Serina then stopped herself. "Adama, we...do have your blessing, don't we?" Adama smiled and also rose from his chair to come over to them, "My dear, not only do you have my blessing, you have the blessings of the Lords of Kobol as well." He then embraced his son, "Congratulations, my son. You've made your father very happy. And...I know I can say that your mother would be happy for you too if she were here." "Thank you, Father," Apollo felt the need to embrace him again as soon he heard the reference to Ila. As they looked into each other's eyes, he could also tell that his father also was silently telling him that Zac would be happy for him too, if he were here. But tactfully, Adama had decided not to mention his younger son's name, knowing how much Zac's death had pained Athena more than anything else. Athena had made her way back to the other side of the table where Starbuck was still seated. Right away, the blonde warrior felt a wave of discomfort hit him as he saw the coy, seductive expression on Athena's face. Before she could say anything, he had already gotten to his feet. "Well, ah, as best man, that means I have to finish preparations for your ah, sendoff party as soon as that can be ah, arranged. Going to be a real bash." he reached the other side and quickly shook hands with Adama. "Thanks for the food. I ah, hate to run. Anyway, pleasure dining with you Commander, and ah....oh, Apollo! Don't forget our patrol tomorrow morning, so I wouldn't stay up real late tonight." he leaned down and looked at Serina, "Serina, congratulations. And ah, Athena," he looked back across at the commander's daughter, who was staring at him in amazement. "Athena, well, ah. Bye." And then, he all but sprinted his way out of the commander's quarters. "I didn't even say anything," Athena was shaking her head, wondering why it was that nothing she'd been trying to do with Starbuck of late seemed to have any major effect on him as had been the case in the pre-Holocaust period. "All I did was smile." "Athena," Adama sighed, "Starbuck always has such a well-defined sense of what lies in waiting. That's what makes him a good advance scout." Athena smiled at her father's remark but inside she was wondering if another reason accounted for Starbuck's sudden and hasty exit. Namely, a blonde socialator named Cassiopeia. It was all too clear to her after a sectar, that Starbuck's attention to Cassiopeia ran a lot deeper than a mere reaction to the disastrous conversation Athena had with Starbuck in the locker room. Why couldn't he understand that that was the wrong time to approach me? She thought for more than the first time. I needed time to recover after the worst tragedy of my life. Couldn't he have just waited a little longer? And now at a time when Athena knew that if Starbuck had approached her again, her answer would have been different, it was clear that Starbuck seemed to have no inclination to do that again. And while she hadn't revealed her feelings about the matter to anyone, inside it was rankling her considerably. "I guess I'll be turning in now," Athena finally rose. "Apollo, Serina. All the best." "Thank you, Athena," Serina said. "And thanks for helping with dinner." "It was my pleasure," she stopped to kiss her father on the cheek. "Goodnight, Father." As soon as she was gone, Adama leaned back in his chair and finished the last of his ambrosia, "Well, it would seem that we're now reduced to the immediate parties only of this happy occasion. Have the two of you decided on when the right time for this will be?" "Not yet," Apollo said. "Probably give or take a couple of sectans to put everything in order. Not just the wedding preparations, but there's all kinds of other bureaucratic nonsense to attend to as well." Adama smiled at how Apollo had avoided the obvious term - felgercarb - because of Boxey's presence. "Yes, there usually is a lot of details to attend to for computer records and such." "One thing we've already agreed on," Serina looked over at her son and smiled proudly, "Boxey gets to act as my protector designate during the ceremony." "Congratulations," Adama smiled at the little boy, "Feel up to the task, Boxey?" "I sure do." "And you promise not to be naturally slow about it?" Apollo said slyly. "No way," Boxey shook his head and grinned. "Then you'd better not be naturally slow when it comes to getting ready for your sleep cycle, Boxey." Serina rose from her chair and came over to her son. "You've already stayed up later than all your classmates." "Just one more glass of fruit juice?" he forlornly held up his empty chalice. "You got yourself a choice, Boxey," Apollo's tone became parental. "One more glass tonight, or one more glass the night of the sealing ceremony. Which will it be?" The little boy sighed. "The sealing ceremony." "Okay then. You go with your mother and get ready for bed." As Serina led Boxey out, the little boy stopped to hug Adama, "Goodnight, Commander." "Goodnight, Boxey," Adama smiled and let go of him. "And after the wedding, you're never to call me Commander again." "Goodnight, Apollo," Serina stopped to kiss Apollo lightly on the cheek. Inside, she felt grateful that the subject they'd been discussing in her quarters hadn't come up again. "Have a safe patrol." "I will." As soon as Serina and Boxey were gone, Apollo let out a long, slow exhale. "How do you feel, son?" Adama casually inquired. "Lighter than all inert gases in the universe." Apollo sighed and looked wryly at his father. "I take it you and Starbuck already had an inkling of this ahead of time." "We did," Adama admitted. "But even if we hadn't, I think all of us would have realized it the centon you and Serina asked for this dinner. This wasn't what I would call an exercise in subtlety on your part, if the idea was to keep us guessing until you made the announcement." "No, I guess not," Apollo chuckled and then looked his father in the eye. "Was it any different with you and Mother?" Adama let out a wistful sigh. "Not really. When the centon came for me to finally ask her the big question, Ila was one step ahead of me and already said yes before I could fully articulate the question. She understood my mind that well. We...didn't have to make a big announcement though to anyone, since our parents were already dead when we got engaged." Apollo nodded, "Father, I..." he stopped and then reflected for a micron before resuming. "Father, I know that this probably does seem like a sudden thing that's happened to me, just a sectar since the Holocaust and losing Mother and Zac, and with someone I didn't even know before all that. But....I just wanted you to know that I haven't made this decision because I'm trying to find a way of covering up bad memories. I...really love Serina." "Apollo," Adama's tone became deathly serious. "I haven't doubted that for a micron. And I couldn't be more happy then to see this sign of life being able to go on for all of us after the horror of what we've already gone through. Those are the kinds of things that make me feel optimistic about the future of our people." "I'm glad to know that." "You're entitled to, Apollo," His father said. "Now in the meantime, you'd better get yourself off to sleep too. You've got an important assignment ahead of you in the morning." Apollo nodded, and without saying another word, got up and left, leaving Adama alone to enjoy one final drink of happy contemplation. Chapter Two When Starbuck heard his wrist chronometer go off, shaking him out of the realm of slumber, the first thing he did was glance under his bunk to make sure Apollo was still asleep in his own bunk underneath. He felt relieved to see his friend still fast asleep, and he then quietly stepped to the floor and dressed himself. He knew that this was his only chance to take care of the pre-party arrangements before it was time for him to go on patrol with Apollo. Once he had his tunic and boots on, he left the Officers Quarters and made his way down over to the Officers Club. He saw that Greenbean and Giles were already there, setting things up. "How's everything look?" the blonde warrior inquired of his fellow Blue Squadron pilots. "Pretty good so far," Greenbean said as he finished moving a wide table to the back of the room. "We've already cleared things with the Colonel so that the Club remains exclusive Blue Squadron territory for the next twenty four centars." "That's good," Starbuck grinned. "We wouldn't want any Columbia pilots getting their hands on any of that beautiful ambrosia I got for us." "Starbuck, I meant to ask you about that." Giles said with a trace of unease. "You really think it's a good idea to freeze them out of this party?" The blonde warrior stared at him in disbelief. "What makes you think they're entitled to come?" he asked. "This party's for Apollo and his impending send-off. None of those guys know him. No sense letting them get free ambrosia and all other amenities for no good reason." "Starbuck, we're stuck working with them forever now that they don't have their own battlestar, or their old commander anymore." Giles decided he needed to press the matter. "It might not be a good idea to get them ticked off by doing this." "Hey, if one of their pilots was about to get sealed and they decided to give him a send-off with all the ambrosia they could drink, they'd be entitled to freeze us out." Starbuck held his ground. "This isn't about shafting them, it's about letting us have what we're entitled to." "Starbuck's right," Greenbean spoke up. "Besides, the Red Squadron guys brought it on themselves. They've been sticking to each other ever since they first came aboard. Determined to maintain their separateness as Columbia pilots and Columbia men first. Hades, they still won't even switch to Galactica helmets." Giles then finally shrugged his shoulders in admission of defeat. He moved over to the other side of the room where the crate of ambrosia Starbuck had brought back from the Rising Star lay. "Now remember," Starbuck said as Giles carried the ambrosia over to the table that Greenbean had set up, "Get the party started around 1000. That'll be about a centar before Apollo and I get back from patrol. Your job is to make sure the more unruly elements of our squadron don't consume everything before then, and to be prepared to shower signs of friendship and all the embarrassing testimonials you can think of on Apollo." "We won't forget," Greenbean smirked, "I've been rehearsing my remarks for almost a sectan ever since you first told us this was likely to happen." "Care to give me a sneak preview?" Starbuck grinned. Greenbean gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling and then raised his arm as though he were holding a chalice. "To Captain Apollo. May you always be a shining example to us as a squadron leader, but *never* when it comes to demonstrating the supposed advantages of being sealed." The grin faded from Starbuck's face, while Giles shook his head slightly in disgust and went back to unloading the ambrosia. "I suggest you spend the next three centars finding a new writer of testimonials, Greenbean." The blonde warrior said as he turned and departed the club. When he reached the corridor he could see Boomer and Jolly already dressed in full flight gear, their helmets tucked under their arms, headed in the direction of the turbo lift. "Morning, gentlemen." Starbuck smiled at his friends. "Morning," Boomer said and then motioned his head behind him. "Your partner is wondering where you've disappeared to." "He's up already? I'd better head him off before he starts snooping down here." "Hey, Starbuck," Jolly said, as the blonde warrior made his way past the two of them. "What time did you say this began?" "1000. Try to end your patrol sweep before 1100 since that's when the both of us should be done. If that is, you want to be there when the fun starts." "We'll be there." "This is one thing you'd never pass up, even if you couldn't stand Apollo, Jolly." Starbuck got in a last quip before he disappeared around the corner. "Dang it," Jolly shook his head. "Why is it, everyone else always gets the last word on me before they disappear?" "Never make friends with natural wits like Starbuck and me, Jolly," Boomer patted him on the shoulder as they resumed walking toward the turbo lift. Ten centons later, Starbuck and Apollo were walking the same corridor down to the launch bay. And already, Apollo was noticing the strange air of peculiar nostalgia in his friend's voice. "....But that first time we flew together, that was really something," Starbuck was saying. "I almost thought----" "Starbuck," Apollo interrupted, "For the last five centons, you've done nothing but reminisce about old missions of ours. You make it sound like this patrol we're going on is the end of an era for us. All we're doing is searching the left front flank of the Fleet so we know what's ahead of us." "Well.....it is kind of an end of an era for us, Apollo," Starbuck felt himself feeling awkward inside, and what made him feel terrible was that he couldn't quite fully understand why this sudden feeling had come over him. "I mean, this patrol is kind of....well it's just about the last one we'll have.....the way we are." "Way we are?" Apollo frowned. "What the heck does that mean?" "Oh....well you know, you and I....in seven yahrens we've known each other, we've....always been the same." "Starbuck, nothing's changing!" Apollo threw his arms out in exasperation. "You and I are still part of Blue Squadron. You and I are always going to be flying together." "But....you'll be otherwise occupied from now on in all other things." Light suddenly dawned on Apollo. "I get it," the exasperation was now gone from his voice, replaced by amazement. "For sagan's sake, Starbuck, how does getting sealed mean the end of an era?" "Well, maybe it doesn't seem like that to you in some ways, but in others...." Starbuck still couldn't believe he was saying any of this. But he just found that he couldn't stop himself from voicing the feelings of unease he had inside about Apollo's sudden romance that was leading to marriage after only a sectar. His friend grinned. "In other words, you're jealous, is that it?" Starbuck felt relieved that Apollo wasn't ready to tear his head off at this point and was instead reacting with good natured humor about the whole thing. "Well....." he hesitated and took a breath, "In a way....yes, I guess I am. It's got nothing to do with Serina, I think she's terrific," he added hastily. "It's just that...." he trailed off. "Hey," Apollo patted him on the shoulder. "I think I know what you're trying to say." "You do?" Starbuck raised his eyebrows. "Yeah," Apollo nodded. He knew that any jealousy Starbuck felt stemmed more from a case of envy over the fact that after seven yahrens of no relationships with any woman, Apollo had been swept up in a whirlwind romance leading to a quick sealing. While Starbuck, the man who prided himself on his way with women was still left in the position of being too insecure to commit himself to anyone. He could already see that any earlier thought he'd had of Starbuck becoming a brother to him in actual fact, by marriage to Athena, was fast becoming a more dim prospect with each passing day. "But I tell you what, Starbuck," Apollo added. "I promise not to tell anyone about it." "Thanks." he smiled. "I...appreciate that, Apollo." "Come on," he patted him on the shoulder again. "Let's get going." Serina stood in front of the mirror in her quarters studying herself with a feeling of both exhilaration and trepidation. The beige warrior's uniform fit her perfectly, and she no longer found the sight of herself in it strange and awkward, as had been the case when she'd first put it on two sectans ago. Today would be the day when she'd truly feel that she'd earned the right to wear it, though. Today was the day her two sectans of training would end in her first solo flight as a shuttle pilot. And if it went well, then there'd be no doubt in her mind that her chosen path in a new career was set for good. But with it, would also come the knowledge that she would finally have to tell Apollo about her decision to follow a new path in life as a member of the Colonial Service. And she knew that Apollo's first reaction was undoubtedly going to be negative. That was the reason why she had kept the whole thing a secret for two sectans. She had wanted to find out for herself, without any pressuring from Apollo, whether or not she was up to the task of training herself to become a shuttle pilot. If she failed, then the experiment would be over, and she knew she need not ever tell Apollo she'd considered the idea. But if she succeeded, and had the evidence to prove to Apollo that she was capable of serving the people as a warrior instead of a journalist, then she knew that ultimately Apollo would have to accept it if he truly loved her. She checked her chronometer and saw that she was due to report down to flight operations for her solo flight. She took one last look at herself in the mirror, straightened her uniform out and then grabbed her flight jacket and departed. "Core Command transferring launch controls to viper fighters, Beta Patrol." Rigel said as she hit the switches on her console on the bridge. "Launch when ready." Five microns later, the board indicator lights turned from red to green indicating that the two vipers had successfully launched and were away from the Galactica. "Morning, Rigel," she heard the voice of Omega from behind her. The Bridge Officer was making his way to his own console located right next to hers. Rigel impatiently held up her hand to indicate silence, and went on, "Core Command transferring control to viper fighters, Alpha Patrol. Launch when ready." As soon as she saw the lights go from red to green, she turned around. "Sorry, had to take care of that first." Omega shook his head slightly as he settled down beside her at his own station. "That sounded a little funny. Beta patrol launched first, then Alpha patrol. I thought if you launched first, that makes you Alpha Patrol in the pecking order." Rigel smiled. "Better brush up on the manual, Omega. If the Squadron leader is on one of those patrols, then he's Alpha Patrol no matter when he launches. Captain Apollo's group went second, but that means he's still Alpha Patrol because it's him." "Hey, I don't need to read that part of the manual. You handle all the launches," he smiled back and then eyed her quizzically. "What did you do to your hair?" She fingered the elaborate braids of her hair, "I decided to try something different. What do you think?" Omega blinked again, trying not to let his disappointment show. He'd long been accustomed to seeing Rigel with her brown hair let down to her shoulders, and had always considered it attractive. "It's....different." Rigel shook her head, "Translated into common Colonial Standard, you don't approve." "Hey, I didn't say that," Omega said hastily, cursing at himself inside. Only a sectan ago, he'd finally summoned the courage to ask Rigel out for a date. The last thing he wanted to do was make a sudden bad impression on her. "It's just..... different. That's all." She nodded, "It does take a lot of time to set up. I doubt I'll keep it this way long term." She then glanced at him and her tone grew coy, "Of course I could always just cut it and not feel the need to constantly find new ways of doing something with it." As Omega put his headset on, he almost froze when he heard that, but when he glanced back at her and saw her expression he realized she was having fun at his expense. Instantly, he relaxed and let out a chuckle. "I like your sense of humor," he said. "I thank you," Rigel smiled back, glad that he'd figured it out. Working alongside Omega for the better part of a half yahren had made her wonder if he was too stiff and devoted to duty so much that he could never loosen up. She was glad to see that in the last sectan, his asking her out had at least proved that maybe her instincts about Omega had been wrong. Not to the point where she was considering the possibility of beginning a serious relationship with him, but at least enough to say yes to another date with him if he found the courage to ask again. The sound of a new voice in her headset promptly snapped her back to attention. She then looked down at her console and saw that the red light indicator of a shuttle in position in Alpha Bay was now showing. "Alpha Shuttle, this is Core Control. You are cleared for training flight now in sector Delta one. No scheduled fleet traffic in that zone for next centar." When she heard the voice on the other end, she frowned slightly since she instantly recognized it. Then, she replied in acknowledgment and watched the indicator go to green, indicating that it had launched. Leaving her puzzled as to why a famous newswoman like Serina was flying a shuttle on a training exercise. Captain Killian, the robust leader of the Galactica's Red Squadron group, had arisen early to take part in his daily regiment of exercise in the battlestar's Training Room. To Killian, such daily regiments on the exercise equipment did more then just keep him physically fit, they also helped hone his mental skills and sense of inner strength. Qualities that he knew were indispensable in any squadron leader. That was the first thing Commander Fairfax had stressed to him two yahrens ago when Killian had been made commander of the Columbia's Blue Squadron group, and he had no intention of ever forgetting that. For Killian, and all the other pilots in his group, the recent Holocaust had been far more traumatic then for any of the members of Blue Squadron. Red Squadron was comprised entirely of pilots from the Columbia, which had been the only battlestar other than the Galactica that had been able to launch any vipers during the Cylon sneak attack that had succeeded in destroying seven battlestars from the Combined Colonial Fleet. They had been forced to see their own ship, which they had been part of for many yahrens, devastated heavily in the attack to the point where the decision had been made to scuttle her as a total loss. And then, there had been the later trauma of losing their former commander, Fairfax, in the wake of the battle of Carillon. Fairfax's death in many ways had been even more difficult then the loss of the Columbia itself, because it removed the one element of stabling reassurance to the Columbia pilots, that there was one element of continuity from the past they could count on in this new, difficult prospect of a seemingly endless journey across space to an unknown planet called Earth. Since Fairfax's death, Killian and the rest of Red Squadron had found themselves more determined to maintain their distinction as a group from the Columbia. They had all continued to wear their flight helmets that bore the Columbia's insignia, instead of the Galactica helmets. They had also taken more and more to socializing amongst themselves only, as though they felt that was the only to maintain some element of the pre-Holocaust camaraderie they had all known. Killian knew that to maintain such separateness in ranks wasn't bound to win them much in terms of friendship or admiration from the pilots of Blue Squadron, but he was also convinced that it was essential for his own group's morale at this point. They had lost their homes, their families, their ship and their commander. They needed one thing in their lives to provide them with some continuity to the lost past and keeping their identity as a Columbia group was the only way to do that. As he worked out on the weight machine, lying on his back and preparing himself to lift more than 200 kilos of steel, he was surprised when he saw out of the corner of his eye, a clearly irritated Sergeant Barton, one of the younger pilots from his group. "Sir?" Barton asked. "Do you have a micron?" Killian lowered the weights and came to a sitting position. "What is it, Barton?" "Sir, there's something I had to ask you about. Are you aware that Blue Squadron's closed off all access to the Officer's Club for the next 24 centars?" Red Leader wiped away the sweat from the back of his neck. "Captain Apollo's sendoff party, I imagine. Don't make a big deal about it, Barton." "Sir, they've probably stashed about two crates of prime ambrosia." Killian looked up at him. "What do you want me to do about it, Barton? Turn them in to Security?" "Sir, I just----" Barton then shrugged in exasperation, "I just don't think it's right for one squadron to cut us out of something like that. Luxuries like a party full of ambrosia are scarce enough as they are----" "Barton," the Squadron Leader said gently. "Forget it. What they're doing is no different then what we've been doing in keeping our identity as a Columbia unit. They're entitled to have their own private parties, just like we would be if it were one of our men." His expression then grew harder. "And with that in mind, I want you to pass this word to every member of our Squadron. I don't want a single one of them to be within scanning distance of the Officers Club today. If so much as one of you tries crashing that party or raising Hades about it, it's going to cost the whole group a half sectan's pay." The young sergeant stiffened slightly, not having expected Killian to take this kind of hard line. "I'll tell them, sir." He then turned and departed. Leaving Red Leader alone to ponder the thought that a word with Starbuck or someone else in Blue Group might be in order to at least make sure that Red Group could get their hands on some ambrosia for themselves. Twenty centons had passed since Boomer and Jolly had left the Galactica to begin their patrol search for signs of Cylon penetration along one of the potential routes the Fleet would take in their search for the elusive destination of Earth. They had said nothing up to that point beyond routine matters of checking equipment and making sure their scanners were set. Now, after twenty centons of seeing nothing, Boomer felt it was safe to have some conversation about other matters. "I'd have lost a million cubits if we'd had a pool on which of us in the squadron would ever get sealed first," Boomer broke the ice. "Apollo never would have been my pick." "How come?" Jolly asked. "I felt just the opposite. I always figured he'd be the first or close to that." "You did?" Boomer raised an eyebrow. "Even though you never once knew Apollo to go out on a date with any woman?" "That's exactly why I figured he'd be the first," Jolly replied as he kept his eye on the scanner. "Someone like Apollo who doesn't date is usually going to end up marrying the first woman he ever dates seriously. It was just a question of when that woman would finally arrive." "Interesting thinking, Jolly," Boomer admitted. "I wonder..." he then trailed off as his scanner suddenly caught his attention. "Wait a centon, I'm picking up some crazy readings on that asteroid in Delta Sector four." "What do you..." Jolly started then stopped. "Yeah, my scanner's got it too. Atmosphere reading and....definite signs of low-level energy output beneath the surface." "Okay, I've got that location of the energy output pinpointed." Boomer felt a trace of uneasiness creep into his voice. "Jolly, just to be on the safe side, activate low-level jamming. In case anyone's down there watching us, they'll just think it's natural subspace interference." "But if we do that, we can't take a more detailed scan from up here," the sergeant pointed out. "True. But I think this is something we'd best investigate from ground level. Follow me in and we'll set ourselves down within two thousand metrones of the source of that energy output." "Will do," Jolly said as he activated his turbo to follow Boomer's viper down toward the dark surface of the nearby asteroid. As Boomer and Jolly investigated one potential track for the Fleet to take on its journey, Apollo and Starbuck were busy scanning the alternate route. Unlike Boomer and Jolly, the conversation between the two pilots was almost non-stop from the beginning, with most of it being initiated by Starbuck. And to Apollo's bemusement, he found that Starbuck couldn't seem to stop talking about past missions they'd shared together. After twenty centons though, Apollo was beginning to feel his patience wear slightly thin as Starbuck again launched into another reminiscence about the past. Finally, he decided it was time to give his friend some gentle reproach. "Hey Starbuck," he said cutting in on the lieutenant's recollection. "Enough. I don't want to hear any more about past conquests." "Sorry," Starbuck said, feeling slightly chastened, "It's just that we've had so many good memories." "Starbuck, I'm not dying." "No," Starbuck shrugged. "Not exactly." And then he flinched as he realized that was the most inappropriate remark he could have made. The cold silence he heard from Apollo almost produced a chill inside him. "Apollo, I'm sorry I said that. I...." "Forget it," Apollo sighed, "Look Starbuck, we went over this before we left the Galactica. Do we need to go over it again? For the millionth, and hopefully last time, nothing is changing as far as our working together on missions goes. Okay, maybe you and I won't be able to have opportunities for a boys night out, but in case you've forgotten, I was never one for those kind of things anyway." "That's true," Starbuck conceded. "Still----" "And given the way things are now, Starbuck, it'd be a long time before even single warriors will get to enjoy those kind of boys night out having a good time again. At least not the way we used to enjoy them." "Oh, I wouldn't say that," Starbuck protested mildly. "I mean it looks like The Rising Star will be reopening a lot of its luxury features soon. Once they get a new pay scale adjusted, warriors will do all they can to save up for furlons there. That should give us all the kinds of things a liberty port used to give us." Apollo shook his head in amazement. "Starbuck, I guess that's the one thing about you that'll never stop amazing me. After all we've gone through in the last sectar, you still want to keep acting as though nothing's really happened and that life is still the same as it was before the Holocaust." "Hey, call it a defensive instinct," Starbuck said impulsively. "I mean...the more we do things that we took for granted before the Holocaust, the easier it is to cope. At least....that's the way it seems to me." "I know what you mean," Apollo said sympathetically, "But for me, I think it's more important to look ahead to new things and new opportunities. That's why..." he trailed off slightly, "That's why I want to go ahead with this, Starbuck. Serina's the greatest thing that ever happened to me. And besides....you know I always had something of a crush on her when she was just an image on a vid-com screen to me." His tone grew more confident, as though he were determined to stop Starbuck cold from making any more observations. "I've thought a lot about it, Starbuck. I've never been happier about anything in my whole life. And there isn't anything that's going to make me think differently about that." Starbuck realized it was best to not say anything further about it. The last thing he wanted to do was put Apollo in a bad frame of mind before the sendoff party. An air of uneasy silence now hung over between the two warriors as they went back to looking at their scanners. Finally, several centons later it was broken by the sound of a number of blips from Apollo's instruments. "Starbuck?" "I got it," The lieutenant's voice became totally professional. "My panel's lighting up like a meteor fire. I've never..." he trailed off suddenly. "Starbuck?" Apollo radioed. "What is it?" "Good Lord," Starbuck whispered, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Apollo, dead ahead. Take a look." Apollo looked up from his instruments and his eyes widened in disbelief at what lay before him. Instead of seeing a bright star-lit field ahead of him, he could now see a whole section of space that was total blackness. No stars, no signs of illumination whatsoever. It gave the aura of a menacing black pit that seemed ready to swallow anything that entered it. "It's totally black," Apollo could think of nothing else to say. "Like a dead sea," Starbuck was amazed, "I've never seen anything like it." "Neither have the instruments," Apollo looked down and felt his uneasiness increase as he saw his navigational compass spinning around. "There's nothing for them to lock onto." "Well one thing's for sure, this is no place to bring the Fleet." "You're right," Apollo said, "But we have to guard against the possibility that the sector Boomer and Jolly are checking out might be even worse for the Fleet, especially if they've stumbled across any Cylon presence in their sector." "So what are you saying, then?" Starbuck asked. "As long as we're here, I'd better see how far we can go without getting lost." "Apollo," Starbuck protested, "Do you really think that's a good idea?" "Maybe this void isn't too extensive, and if that's the case we should try and see what's on the other side of it so we can give the Galactica a full report." "But once you're inside that void you may not find your way back." Starbuck felt the chill growing up his back. The more he could see that foreboding darkness loom closer, the more spooked he felt. "I'm in command of this patrol, Starbuck, and my judgment is we check this out." "Okay," Starbuck said, "But in that case let me check it out. I mean, you've got someone waiting for you back..." Before the blonde lieutenant could finish his thought, Apollo had activated his turbo and roared off straight into the black chasm ahead. "Apollo!" Starbuck said as he increased his own speed. "Look, don't get too far ahead. I'm barely able to keep my fix on the way back to the Fleet as it is." An instant later, Starbuck saw Apollo's viper swallowed up by the darkness. "Felgercarb," he muttered under his breath. "Apollo, do you hear me?" Far ahead, Apollo was looking about with a feeling of intimidated awe at the blackness that surrounded him. It almost seemed like something out of a child's nightmare, validating every fear of the dark that children were known to have. "I copy you, Starbuck." He radioed. "It's incredible out here. It's an ocean of darkness. Nothing as far as the eye can see. No stars, no moons, no planets. Nothing." When he heard a reply from Starbuck, Apollo felt a chill for the first time as he heard not a clear signal but a badly garbled one instead. "Apollo...I----barely...you...Turn around---- Do you read... Change wavelengths-----." "Keep talking Starbuck, I'm using your voice as a navigational fix." The next sound though was even more garbled than before. So much so, that this time Apollo couldn't even make out any of Starbuck's words. "Starbuck?" he tried to keep his tone calm, but for the first time Apollo felt a genuine sensation of fear creep in. "Starbuck?" Far behind, Starbuck was feeling a sense of exasperation build up inside him. "Apollo? Are you there? Is anything wrong?" There was only the crackle of static. "Look, I'm as far out as I can go without losing our fix on our return back to the Fleet," he went on, determined to not let any feelings of panic bubble to the surface. "Shall I come out to find you?" Still no response. "Apollo!" Starbuck now let his professionalism drop and his exasperation surface. "Do you read me?" Another crackle of static brought no intelligible reply. And as Starbuck now saw the area of darkness begin to fill his entire field of vision, all he could do at this point was mutter another expletive. "Frack." Chapter Three The instant he had awaken, Sergeant Castor of the Colonial Security unit attached to the Galactica, had a feeling it was not going to be a good day for him. And when his feet hit the floor and he began to dress, he promptly remembered the reason why he had that feeling. He was going to have to spend the next eight centars on the morning shift working alongside the one man in the Colonial Security unit he disliked above all others. The foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, curly-haired sergeant named Ortega. After five yahrens in Colonial Security, Castor had seen his share of partners he'd never particularly cared for, but there was something about Ortega, a survivor of the Security Unit attached to Caprica's District Headquarters, that set him apart from everyone else. It wasn't just that Ortega was surly, moody and impossible to talk to. What made Ortega different was how he seemed to be constantly going out of his way to look for trouble. Twice, it seemed like Ortega was ready to pick a fight with Castor over some perceived slight. If it weren't for the fact that Castor was a powerfully, muscularly built man who outweighed Ortega by a good forty kilos and could lift him with one hand, he was sure the curly-haired sergeant would have followed through on his threats. Ah well, Castor sighed as he finished getting dressed and attached his laser to his holster. Maybe I can see about getting night shift duty instead. Then that way I could be free of the little snitrod. For now though, he had to resign himself to spending eight centars alongside Ortega in the Colonial Security Operations Center, located in the center of the battlestar. The Operations Center was where Colonial Security directed all matters in the Fleet that fell under their jurisdiction. As proscribed by Colonial law, the Colonial Security forces, being fully active members of the military, were responsible solely for matters pertaining to military security. Civilian security was handled entirely by the Council Security Forces. There was a feeling though, among the members of Colonial Security like Castor, that Council Security had outlived its usefulness as an independent body, especially now that the entire Fleet was technically under a state of martial law. However, Adama had resisted the calls for incorporating Council Security into the Colonial Security structure, which would have entailed drafting of all Council Security members into the military and forcing them to trade in their trademark black uniforms for those of a warrior. With some pressure from the Council of Twelve, Adama had concluded that it would be better for morale to let the independent civilian security force remain in place to handle all matters aboard non-military ships. As much as Castor understood Adama's reasoning, he still felt it was a mistake. As far as he was concerned, Council Security had long been staffed with incompetents who never would have passed muster in the more disciplined ranks of Colonial Security. And if that wasn't bad enough, too many of them were filled with a deep-seated arrogance and air of their supposed superiority as law enforcement officials that no Colonial Security guard would ever have been caught dead mingling with a Council Security blackshirt. As Castor walked down the corridor to the Command Center though, he couldn't help but note that compared to Ortega, a Council Security blackshirt would be infinitely better company. When he entered the Command Center, he saw Ortega seated at his station. And instantly, Castor's eyebrows went up when he saw that the curly-haired sergeant was counting up a thick stack of cubit notes. "Where'd you get those?" he asked. Ortega looked up and flushed a deep shade of red, as though he hadn't expected anyone to see what he was doing. "None of your damn business." "Hey, just asking. Don't get huffy." Castor said as he signed in and went over to his duty station, already feeling the sense of weariness come over him. "All right," Ortega grunted as he quickly pocketed the cubit notes in his uniform so that they were out of sight. "I've been waiting for you to arrive. There's something we need to take care of down at the Officers Club." Castor was on the verge of sitting down at his station then stopped and came back to a standing position. "What is it?" "Got a little tip from a pilot in Red Squadron about a clandestine party going on in the Officers Club. He says it's likely that some guys in Blue Squadron may have an illegal stash of ambrosia on hand." Castor's eyes narrowed. "Who gave this tip, Ortega?" "A Red Squadron pilot. Didn't leave his name, he gave this to me over the telecom about five centons ago." He rose. "But at any rate it's something we've got to look into, isn't it?" "No it isn't." Castor said calmly. "If he's referring to Captain Apollo's sendoff party, that's already been cleared by the Colonel. Didn't you see the note about that when you looked over the authorization list?" "Yeah, I did," Ortega said haughtily, "But did the Colonel's authorization extend to illegal transfer and consumption of ambrosia?" "Ortega," Castor said calmly, "This isn't worth looking into. Leave Blue Squadron alone and let them have their party. If they've managed to smuggle a case of ambrosia, then it's no big deal." "Since when did you get so chummy when it came to Blue Squadron, Castor?" Ortega's haughty tone didn't lessen. "What makes them exempt from the regulations on smuggling and illegal consumption----" "Why in Hades should you give a frack about that?" Castor interrupted coldly. "Our job is to investigate potential security leaks, not to do the type of felgercarb that Council Security goons would get their kicks doing. Now I say we just forget the whole thing and concentrate on more productive work instead." "I wouldn't recommend that, Castor." Ortega said. "Because if you're so determined to bend the rules for your chums in Blue Squadron, I'd feel compelled to write you up on that in a report that the Lieutenant couldn't ignore." Castor's eyes narrowed in disbelief. He couldn't believe that it had taken all of two centons for him to wish he could tear Ortega's head off. "You wouldn't." "Try me." he grinned smugly. "All right then," Castor held his ground. "So you'd write me up on this. And maybe I'd feel compelled to find out where you got all those cubits in your pocket." "Which would get a complaint for undue harassment and invasion of my privacy in return, Castor. I just had a lucky streak on the Rising Star and what I do in my spare time is none of your business. What is your business is enforcing the regulations for warrior conduct in a military zone, and if you're not willing to do that just because you have friends in Blue Squadron, then that means I'm within my rights to do something about that." Castor glared at the curly-haired sergeant with disgust and finally shook his head as though he were admitting defeat. "All right you lousy snitrod," he said under his breath. "We'll have a look." Ortega found himself grinning with satisfaction as he secured his laser pistol and followed Castor out. Hoping all the while that what he was about to do was finally stick it to his old nemesis Starbuck once and for all by getting the blonde lieutenant from Blue Squadron busted on a major regulations infraction. In the Officers Club, all of Blue Squadron (save the four members who were now on patrol) had gathered to begin the final preparations for the party, as well as to get first crack at some of the amenities the party would be offering. "Allow me to present the crowning centerpiece of this party," Greenbean said with pride as he pulled out the case of ambrosia that Starbuck had brought down earlier. "Gentlemen, feast your eyes good," he then opened the lid with a dramatic flourish. A collective low whistle emitted from the more than forty pilots who were assembled in the room. "Lords of Kobol," a young flight corporal named Vickers said in awe, "Caprican vintage 7334. Where'd you get this, Greenbean?" "Don't thank me, thank Starbuck," Greenbean grinned. "He's our benefactor as far as the ambrosia goes. And that means that this is going to be the best bachelor send-off in all the annals of Colonial History." "That's for sure!" a wing sergeant said giddily as he reached for one of the bottles. "Ah, ah," Giles said as he slapped at the sergeant's hand, "No touching until the guest of honor arrives. That's the first rule you all have to follow." "And the first one who breaks that rule gets himself stripped and moduled," Greenbean added. At the other end of the Club, Flight Cadet Bo, a recent enlistee who had yet to make his first training flight, was looking out into the hallway. He then turned back and looked at Greenbean with concern, "Uh...sir?" "What is it?" the ensign stared at him. "Two Colonial Security men are headed this way. Do they um....." "Uh oh," Greenbean's tone grew uneasy, "Giles, hurry. Get that stuff stashed away just in case!" Within five microns, the lid had gone back on the crate and it had been hastily shoved under the table. Greenbean and Giles had both snapped back to rigid attention just as the door opened and a smug Ortega entered the room, with a disgruntled Castor trailing behind him. "Well, well," Ortega said as he looked about the room. "Looks as though Blue Squadron is having a grand old celebration. Too bad you couldn't have invited the rest of your fellow pilots to join you." The expressions of everyone in the room save the two guards suddenly darkened as the impact of what Ortega said sunk in. Someone in Red Squadron had found out about the party and had decided to rat on them to Colonial Security. Already, Greenbean was vowing to break the legs of whichever pilot it was who had done that. There was always an unwritten code amongst warriors going back to the Academy that no one ever finked on anyone to Colonial Security for any reason imaginable and breaching that rule meant consigning oneself to permanent outcast status. "Now what do we have under the table there," Ortega said as he made his way forward and looked under. Without batting an eye, he reached down and pulled out the crate, letting out a low whistle of mock surprise as he saw the stenciling on the tape. "Caprican vintage 7334, and from a crate with a Rising Star storage stamp no less." he looked about the room, "Anyone care to explain who is responsible for this?" There was an uneasy, awkward silence from the room. "I'll ask again," Ortega said as the doors behind him suddenly slid open, "Who is responsible for this?" "I'm responsible for this, Sergeant!" Ortega spun around and his eyes bulged when he saw the stern figure of Colonel Tigh standing a few feet away. Castor was letting out an inner sigh of relief. "This party has my full authorization, Sergeant," the executive officer said as he stepped toward the guard. "I sent a memorandum down to Security Operations mentioning that. Didn't you see it?" "Oh....well yes sir, yes." Ortega grew increasingly flustered and Castor found himself enjoying every micron of it. "It's just that....." "Just what?" Tigh had now drawn to within a foot of the curly-haired sergeant, "What is it you need to know if you already knew that this party had my full authorization and approval?" "Well, ah...sir, there was a report of some ambrosia that might have been obtained from sources....ah...." Ortega now found it impossible to keep up the bravado. Even if his nemesis and rival Starbuck had obtained the ambrosia illegally there was clearly nothing that would come of it, given Tigh's attitude. He finally decided with reluctance to let the matter drop. "But ah...I guess that since the Galactica's executive officer is in charge, there's no need to ask any more questions about it." He took a breath, "By your leave?" "Dismissed," Tigh said curtly. Ortega quickly left the room at a brisk pace while Castor lingered long enough to quietly mouth to Greenbean, "This wasn't my idea. Sorry." before he finally left too. Once the two security guards were gone, the executive officer fixed his attention on the assembled row of Blue Squadron pilots. His expression was still stern. "All right men," he said coldly. "Where did the ambrosia come from?" he then skipped a beat, "This is off the record." Greenbean took a breath. "Starbuck, sir." "I see," Tigh nodded, "Well when Starbuck returns, Greenbean, tell him this. That there's only one thing worse than smuggling ambrosia from illegal sources aboard the Galactica and that's getting caught smuggling ambrosia from illegal sources." For just a fraction of an instant, a faint smile curled up on the corner of Tigh's lips. Enough to make everyone else in the room relax instantly. "Yes sir," Greenbean smiled with relief. "So long as you dispose of this stash in a....proper fashion, nothing more need be said about the matter." Tigh said, "Apollo and Starbuck should be returning within the centar. See to it that things are in full swing by the time they're here." He then flashed another quick smile at Greenbean, "And see to it that one bottle gets set aside for me as well for after the party." "Yes sir!" Greenbean exclaimed as a loud whoop of exhilaration went up from the rest of the pilots. Adama had arrived on the bridge and begun his morning inspection of all work stations, all the while finding it slightly difficult to fully concentrate on work related matters. The joy of the previous evening's dinner, and the news of Apollo and Serina's engagement was still lingering deep inside him. Mixed with it, a tinge of sadness that Ila hadn't lived to see the first of their children finally get sealed. He could still recall his last furlon on Caprica how Ila had expressed concern again over her eldest child's inability to branch out in relationships with women, in contrast to Athena who was already in the midst of her deepening relationship with Starbuck, and Zac who while not serious with any particular girl, was at least a frequent dater during his Academy days. You needn't have worried, Ila, Adama thought with a wry smile. Apollo was just like me. Waiting for someone perfect to come along and not wasting time with anyone else in the meantime. The commander then shook himself out of his happy thoughts and made his way over to Omega's station. "Omega, status report on Blue Squadron patrols?" The bridge officer activated his widesweep scanner. "Both Alpha and Beta patrols are beyond scanner range, sir." Adama frowned, "That's odd. Shouldn't they be on their return leg at this point?" Omega punched several buttons and looked at the readout. "Alpha Patrol's return leg should have began five centons ago, Beta Patrol's about ten centons late." Adama's eyes narrowed slightly, as he moved away from Omega and mounted the steps to the upper level. He had just reached the command section when he saw Tigh arrive. "Colonel," the commander said, "We seem to have two scout patrols that for reasons unknown are slightly overdue." "Any indications why?" Tigh asked. "None," Adama shook his head. "It may just be for a perfectly innocent reason, but I still think that maybe some preventive steps might be a good idea just in case." "By putting a squadron on Yellow Alert for now?" Tigh asked. "If that's the case Commander, I should let you know that the rest of Blue Squadron is in the Officers Club for Apollo's sendoff party." "Point taken." Adama nodded. "Nonetheless, I wouldn't want to have a squadron of pilots loaded with ambrosia if it turned out they might be needed." "Well you don't have to worry about that. The ambrosia's off-limits until the guest of honor returns so if an emergency comes up with regard to Apollo's patrol, they won't have been imbibing beforehand." "I see. If that's the case then, there's no point spoiling their party. Have Red Squadron stay on Yellow Alert for now." "Yes sir." Tigh turned and descended the steps, leaving Adama alone and puzzled for now over what had happened to the two patrols. All around Apollo, the blackness was the most frightening thing he'd ever seen in his life. It almost seemed to conjure up every childhood nightmare about the dangers of hideous monsters lurking somewhere in the dark. Every base instinct told him he should fire his turbos and do a 180 turn in the opposite direction, but by this point Apollo no longer had any sense of direction. His navigation instruments were all spinning like crazy and a 180 turn at this point might only send him hurtling deeper into the abyss. Frack, he cursed inside. How could I have been so stupid as to investigate this thing for myself? Starbuck was right, I've got someone waiting for me back home, I shouldn't be taking these kinds of needless risks anymore. Struggling to keep himself calm, he pressed the radio again, deciding that maybe he should try the Galactica on the forlorn hope that they might be able to pick up his signal above the interference. "Galactica this is Alpha Probe leader. Come in." Nothing. He probably should have known better than to try something like that. If anything trying to raise the Galactica was proof enough that Apollo was more scared inside than he realized. If he'd totally had his wits about him, he would have known that signaling the Galactica made no sense whatsoever. "Starbuck?" this time Apollo didn't bother hiding the fear in his voice. "Starbuck do you copy?" Again, there was nothing but the crackle of static. "Starbuck?" Apollo's voice was almost cracking at this point. "Are you out there?" Behind, Starbuck's viper had now entered the beginnings of his void. Before the stars disappeared from view, he made absolutely certain of his bearing and vowed not to move his viper the slightest fraction in either direction so he could remain certain that the exit from the void remained behind him. "Apollo, do you read?" he radioed again, and once again heard nothing. Starbuck now realized that he needed to make a difficult decision. Standard operating procedure would have dictated that he abandon his search for Apollo and concentrate more on getting back to the Fleet to warn them about what lay ahead, because if both of them were lost then the Fleet would never know anything about the void that they were headed toward. But Starbuck was determined to not follow standard procedure yet. Not when it was Apollo's life that was at stake or any other warrior's for that matter. "Okay Captain, I'm about to disobey orders so if you want to stop me I'll give you one millimicron. I'm going to barrel ahead on a straight line arc from where I entered the void at full turbo, firing my lasers. I'll either find you, or....." he choked on his next words, which would have indicated that he would have to abandon him. Instead, he finished his sentence in a way that could show some empathy with his missing friend. "Or we'll both be lost. If I find you, I'm going to execute a perfect 180 degree turn and head out the way I came in, so if you're able to pick me up visually you should be able to get your bearings straight and follow me out too. We should have a pretty good chance that way." Starbuck took a breath, feeling the need to indulge in some last centon gallows humor before proceeding. "Any objections? Good. I knew you'd approve." He took another breath, "here goes nothing." Starbuck then activated his main turbo engine, all the while keeping his hand locked on the control stick so that his viper didn't deviate from it's heading. For more than a centon, his craft streaked deeper into the blackness of the void at full speed. If it weren't for the rush of adrenaline he felt after activating his turbo, he knew he might have begun to get distracted the ominous evil sight of the void around him. Suddenly, he heard a broken voice coming through over his speaker. "Star ... ---- do you read? ---...ver." The blonde lieutenant broke into a grin. "Probe Leader this is Probe Two, headed your way." "Starbuck?" Now Apollo's voice came through clearly indicating that the two vipers were now close enough to pierce the communications interference. "Right here. Keep your eyes open and I'll lead you out." "How? You're going to be as lost as I am." "I've stayed on a straight line since I entered the void. I know if I do a quick 180, I'll be able to lead you straight out." he paused. "Now here comes the tricky part, Apollo. I don't dare deviate from my heading or I risk losing my bearings, so you need to pick me up visually and pull up alongside me. I'm going to take the risk of firing my lasers to give you something to fix in on. My attack computer's shot to Hades with the interference so I have to take the risk that you're not somewhere on my line of sight. Just to be safe," he flicked a switch. "I've lowered the energy level in my laser to 50 percent." He paused. "Ready?" "I'm ready," Apollo said, not yet confident that his ordeal was about to end. Only when he saw the reassuring sight of stars would he finally feel that sensation. "Fire away, Starbuck." The blonde lieutenant pressed the fire button and several streaks of laser fire burst across the void. "Okay, I see you off to my right!" Apollo radioed. "Going to turbo now!" Starbuck cocked his head to his left and now saw the plume of a turbo engine wake headed toward him. Microns later it had become the distinct shape of a viper that promptly pulled up alongside him. He could now look over and see Apollo's face, and he promptly flashed a quick thumbs up and smile. "Okay buddy," Starbuck said, "Now we go home." "What are you using as a fix?" "The end of my nose," he chuckled. "I used to be pretty good at this at the Academy so don't disorient me. Just break off the chatter and stay tucked in. The instant I go to turbo and do a 180 you follow my wake. Ready to go?" "As ready as I've ever been," Apollo said. "Okay, here we go. Now!" The lieutenant rolled to his right at full turbo and made a quick 180 maneuver. Apollo stayed right on Starbuck's tail, executing the same maneuver so that within microns they were now alongside each other again but in the opposite direction of where they'd been previously. "I wager on being out in ten microns, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero!" And then, as if on cue, the blackness of void was suddenly replaced by the myriad brightness of stars. Never before could Apollo remember thinking how dazzlingly bright they all looked. He promptly leaned back against his headrest and shut his eyes for an instant in gratified relief that the frightening ordeal was over. "And with that, my friend, you owe me a fumarello and a free drink." Starbuck added slyly. "You've got it!" Apollo didn't bother to hide the relief he felt, "Whooo!" "In that case, let's go home right away." Nothing more was said as the two vipers headed away from the blackness of the void back toward the safe, reassuring beacons of the Colonial Fleet. As soon as Boomer and Jolly had landed on the darkened asteroid, the two warriors had promptly drawn their weapons and field kits to begin a difficult trek by foot for a closer look at the source of the energy output they had detected. "Just ahead over that hill," Boomer had his microscanner pointed in front of him. "Whatever that source is, it's right there." He took a breath. "Keep your head down just in case there's something on the surface there." Jolly nodded and the two warriors remained hunched over as they made their way up the incline, their hands occasionally bumping against the dusty surface of the landscape and the moisture tinged rocks. More than once, Jolly found himself taking a sniff and thinking how there was a slightly acid tinge to the air that had been constant ever since they'd opened their canopies. Finally they reached the top of the incline. Boomer pulled out his field magnifiers, adjusted them to the night setting and then carefully stuck his head over the rise. To his immediate relief, he saw that there was nothing that could have posed an instant threat to them. The landscape below was just as barren and empty as the terrain they'd already crossed. Boomer knew though, that this cursory inspection didn't settle the issue. If there was an energy source somewhere down in that area there had to be some telltale visual sign that would indicate what it is. "See anything?" Jolly asked as he too stuck his head up so he could look down. "Not yet," Boomer said as he kept his eyes on the magnifiers and moved them about. "From the looks of it, that energy source could be just a natural subsurface volcano or something like that. That would explain why there's nothing visible down there while our scanner picks up the energy source." "Something tells me in my gut that what we scanned isn't natural." Boomer said. "That maybe...." He then stopped and lowered the magnifiers for an instant and squinted. Then he put the magnifiers back up and refocused them. "Oh frack. There it is. Pods. A perfect opening for fighters to head in and out of." "Let me see," Jolly felt his hair rise slightly as Boomer handed the magnifiers to the corpulent sergeant. For more than ten microns he looked, but he failed to see anything other than rock formations. "Boomer, I don't see anything. Are you sure you saw pods?" "They're there," the lieutenant nodded grimly. "Reposition the magnifiers on the hairline aperture running from the rock face to the floor of the valley." Jolly pointed the magnifiers down slightly and finally a brief flash of signal lights revealed it. A small recessed rectangular shaped opening in the rock face with signal lights designed to act as a landing beacon. The sergeant grimly lowered the magnifiers. "Your eyesight's better than mine, Boomer. I would have missed it completely if you hadn't told me where to look specifically." "Well Jolly, if we just miss one of these Cylon outposts we'll never know what hit us." Boomer felt the need to give some rare lecturing to his subordinate. "Granted," Jolly said, feeling chastened. "But do we know for certain that this one's operational?" "I've yet to come across a non-operational outpost that left the signal lights on," Boomer said. "We have to assume that this one is functioning. It's there to act like a Canceran crawlon in it's web. Nothing moves from there until something flies into its orbit and then-----" he snapped his fingers, "it's all over." "So if we hadn't bothered to activate jamming, they would have spotted us for certain when we came in for a landing." "Exactly," Boomer nodded. "And we'll need to act very carefully when we make our way out. They won't detect us right away when we launch but the instant we climb to about thirty thousand, we have to hit our jammers again and make sure they don't notice us making our getaway." "Shouldn't we try to figure out how many fighters they have here?" Jolly asked. "What if Apollo and Starbuck don't find a path we can take on their flank? Then we'd have no choice but to probably make a preemptive strike on the outpost." "It doesn't matter how many ships they have. It only takes one to notify the Cylon capital and give their baseship fleet a general sense of where we are, which they haven't had since Carillon. Unless Apollo and Starbuck found something bigger than this, we're not going to bother with a return visit here anytime." Boomer paused to take one final look. "Okay, let's get going." Just then, there was a loud sound that roared from across the valley and they could suddenly see the recessed shape rock pod open up. "Oh frack!" Boomer cursed. "Get down!" The two warriors dropped below the incline and hit the dirt. In the process, Boomer felt his mouth brush against the soil and he felt the taste of dust on his lips. He promptly spat and wiped at his lip to get the ugly taste sensation out but was only partially successful. The unmistakable sound of Cylon fighter craft now filled the air. Boomer and Jolly looked up and saw three fighters moving off into the sky. "Look at that," Jolly pointed with his laser pistol. "They're headed away from the Fleet." "That buys us some time at least to warn the Galactica," Boomer slowly got to his feet. "Let's get out of here." The corpulent sergeant rose as well, stopping to brush the dust off his uniform and grimacing in disgust at how the residue clung to his hands. "I guess we'll need to take a good decon turbowash before we can show up for the party," Jolly said as they began walking at a brisk pace. "That's for sure," Boomer grunted as he noticed the foul acid tinge smell of the air again. "I wonder if they'll let the party continue after we get through with our report. They'll probably put every pilot on Yellow Alert status until this asteroid is well in the Fleet's wake." "If that happens, I'll be getting all over Apollo about his bad sense of timing." Jolly quipped, but still feeling totally rattled by his inability to have spotted the outpost. No wonder I flunked out of officer training at the Academy, he thought. Five centons later, both Boomer and Jolly were off the surface and headed back to the Fleet as fast as they could go. It had been more than a sectar since Baltar found himself thrust into the unexpected position of being spared from execution and placed in charge of the Imperious Leader's own baseship to continue the search for the Galactica and her rag-tag fleet. Now, as Baltar sat on top of the Imperious Leader's throne chair in quiet contemplation, his mind continued to race ahead in carefully plotting the plan that if his luck continued, would enable him to achieve his final objective of revenge against the Cylon Empire for having double-crossed him in the first place. He idly flexed his arms, marveling at how comfortable the green tunic and cape that had been provided for him in place of his torn, bloody Councilor's robes felt. His quarters were also elegantly furnished with luxuries that had been plundered from his own home planet Piscera, and an ample supply of good food and ambrosia had been stocked as well so there was no question that the Cylons knew how to act with hospitality toward an ally. He had already seen that behavior many times before during the sectars leading up to the Destruction when he had seen the previous Imperious Leader repeatedly shower him with luxuries as a sign of what Baltar could expect as the ruler of his own colony in a universe where the Cylons controlled the rest of the Colonies. On this occasion though, the new Imperious Leader had clearly outdone his predecessor in terms of providing Baltar with luxuries. All the more reason to believe that sooner or later, this Leader, just like his predecessor, would eventually come to the same conclusion that there was a limit to how much Baltar could usefully serve the Cylon Empire. He could not possibly imagine the Cylons having any use for him in a universe where the Galactica and her Fleet met with final destruction. And if that were the case, then what he needed to do was take advantage of his new situation as a Cylon commander and use it for a far different purpose. He heard the doors behind him slide open, which meant that the IL Cylon called Lucifer was entering to give him a report. After a sectar, Baltar still wasn't completely sure what to make of his second-in-command. On the surface, Lucifer was always quick to show humility and deference to his commander, yet at the same time he wondered if there was a streak of ambition and resentment hiding beneath the mechanical surface of the IL. From his understanding, as an IL, Lucifer possessed a second brain that enabled him to not only have normal human speech but also most of the emotions a human being could feel. That could easily mean that under the right circumstances, there might come a time when Lucifer could be just as unreliable to him as the first Imperious Leader had. For now though, the best way to keep Lucifer in line was to project the aura of one who had been won over to the Cylon cause completely. Only that way could he avoid arousing any suspicion in his second in command that could be relayed in a report back to the Imperious Leader on the home planet. "By your command," he heard Lucifer's voice. Baltar activated the control mechanism that enabled the throne chair to spin around. After a sectar, Baltar still felt slightly uncomfortable from this high perch and would have preferred to conduct business from the regular command center where baseship commanders usually stayed. But sitting on the Leader's throne chair at least projected the image he wanted to leave with Lucifer, so for now he was willing to overlook any feelings of dizziness he might occasionally feel and stay on this lofty perch. "Speak." "I bring good news. We believe we have located the Battlestar Galactica." "Oh?" Baltar lifted an eyebrow, trying not to sound too impressed. "A scouting expedition of two vipers landed on a listening post of ours in the quadrant Otarsis. Although the vipers engaged in some jamming techniques to avoid detection, a patrol was subsequently launched when jamming indications began and detected by scan, the two vipers on the surface." "They were allowed to escape?" Baltar asked pointedly. "As you instructed," Lucifer nodded. "Once our outpost's patrol reached a safe distance it was only a matter of using their long-range scanner aimed back to detect the two vipers taking off again." "How far is this outpost from us?" "One point five hectars. Since the Galactica is kept to a minimum speed because of the slower vehicles under her protection, we can at light speed overtake them within two centars." "And their patrol gave no signs that we were aware of their presence." "No. Therefore if we should proceed immediately and strike, our fighters will be able to take them completely by surprise." "As they did at Carillon?" Baltar gently retorted. "I believe the recent experience of the late Imperious Leader is proof enough that one basestar is not sufficient to assure victory over the Galactica. By all means find them, but make sure our patrols stay beyond scanner range." "Until we can call for reinforcements from the rest of our basestars, scattered as they are across such a wide perimeter of space at this time?" "Lucifer, surely you realize that such a call runs the risk of being detected given our proximity to the Galactica. She would be alerted and escape." Baltar's tone now grew admonishing. "The only communications we could possibly send would have to be very long-range scrambled signals that take eons to be received. A useless option in this situation." "Indeed," the IL conceded, but in the back of his second mind felt a nagging sense of what the humans called uneasiness. "You see then?" Baltar smiled. "Now you understand better why the Imperious Leader put me in command. To anticipate the ways in which the Galactica might think and respond to these situations rather than act impulsively and recklessly as the previous Leader did." "But Baltar," there was an air of matter-of-factness in Lucifer's voice. "If you will not call for assistance and you will not attack, is not the end result the same? The Galactica escapes." Baltar let out a disarming chuckle. "Have faith, Lucifer. I have a plan. All I need is the opportunity to present it. That will come at the right time." Lucifer decided not to press the issue for now. "By your command," he bowed and departed. As Baltar swung his throne chair around again, he slowly exhaled in relief. He indeed had a plan in mind, but it was nothing like the one Lucifer or anyone else in the Cylon Empire would have wanted him to be making. Chapter Four For many days, Serina had known that her first attempt at a solo shuttle flight would be the deciding moment as to whether or not the inner voice she had been hearing since the Holocaust had spoken the truth. That the time had come to put her career as a journalist behind her forever and look to another challenge in life that would offer something more meaningful in the effort to help the Fleet find it's distant dream of the planet Earth. Since she had taken her first training classes as a shuttle pilot two sectans before, she had done all she could to keep the news a secret from Apollo and every one of his close friends. She had also been quite firm with Boxey that if he were to ever drop any hint of what she was doing, she wouldn't hesitate to offer some stern discipline. Serina knew that if Apollo found out before she had taken her solo flight and settled all remaining doubts in her mind, there would have been arguments that she didn't want to deal with now. If she became convinced that being a shuttle pilot wasn't meant to be for her, then that would only be as the result of her decision, and not because of any outside pressure from Apollo or anyone else. Now, as she guided the shuttle on a leisurely heading that always kept her within sight of the main bulk of the Colonial Fleet, she found that with each passing micron that she held the controls, the doubts were fast evaporating like the morning mist. The way she was able to control the shuttle's movement instilled an air of confidence and serenity in her that surpassed all of her expectations. Riding a shuttle as a passenger was one thing, but to actually fly one was a special kind of experience. For many yahrens she'd interviewed numerous pilots and tried to get them to explain what they felt was the most enjoyable aspect of flying, and always they had been hard-pressed to put their feelings into coherent words. Now, for the first time, she could empathize with them completely because she now had the same feeling about flying and even she wasn't sure she could ever articulate it to someone else. She glanced at her chronometer and saw that she had logged thirty centons flight time which was all that was required of her for the first solo exercise. Somewhat reluctantly, she decided it was time to head in. As she swung the craft back on a heading toward the Galactica she already was thinking ahead as to how she should break this news to Apollo. As soon as the Galactica was lined up in her field of vision, she pressed her transmitter, "Core Command this is Training Mission Delta, requesting landing clearance in Alpha Bay." "Affirmative Delta Trainee," Rigel's voice filled her headset. "Would appreciate if you could expedite your landing once inside Alpha Bay. We have Beta Viper Patrol returning about three centons behind you." Oh boy, Serina felt an alarm bell go off inside her head. Don't tell me that Apollo's following right in my wake and I'd have to confront him in the next few centons in the landing bay. "I copy that Core Command. Is that Captain Apollo's patrol?" "Negative Delta Trainee," Rigel kept her tone normal but inside was thinking with amusement about how Serina's shuttle flight was undoubtedly going to be a surprise to her fiancee. "This is Lieutenant Boomer's patrol. Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck just came back into long range scan and aren't due for another fifteen centons.' "I see. Thank you for that information." "Anytime," Serina could literally hear Rigel's smile over the radio. "As per trainee regulations, will now give verbal readout indication of your track. You are on centerline of glide slope, two hundred metrones out. 150. 100. 50. Over threshold. Congratulations!" Serina felt the vehicle come to a stop. She dutifully reached over and performed the last tasks that needed to be done. "Navigational beacon off. Turbo ram thruster off. Headed now into taxiway to clear landing zone. Power off!" And then, Serina felt all the emotion inside her release in a sigh of relief and exhilaration. Boomer and Jolly could both make out the shuttle's trailing lights as they drew closer to the battlestar. Immediately, they both backed off on their speed so as not to run the risk of flying right up on the tail of the slower moving craft and sat back to wait, the sergeant's viper assumed the lead position. "Beta Patrol Leader to Core Command," Boomer radioed, "How long until Alpha Bay's clear for us?" "Give Delta Trainee shuttle about one centon to clear landing zone. Will notify when ready." "Thank you. Also, please notify Commander Adama that I'll be contacting him from Alpha Bay as soon as I'm aboard." As soon as Boomer had finished, he looked ahead where he could see the shuttle landing on a perfectly smooth arc. Whoever the trainee pilot was, there was no question that the cadet had flown like a veteran right away. A centon later he heard Rigel's voice. "Beta Patrol, cleared to land." "Thank you." Boomer said, feeling glad that it was finally over and he could get inside at last. "Let's put?em in Jolly." Jolly was just about to reply when he suddenly felt a massive wave of both dizziness and nausea hit him. It had come with the swiftness of a clap of thunder on a sunny day, and had he been standing up he would have collapsed immediately. His head rolled back against the cushion of his headrest and as the wave of dizziness and nausea increased, he could feel sweat erupting all over his body. In an instant it had become so intense that his hand slipped slightly off his control stick, causing his viper to pitch slightly on an awkward, down trajectory. "Jolly?" Boomer radioed with concern as he saw his friend's viper pitch unexpectedly. "Jolly, do you hear me? Are you all right? Jolly!" "Wha...what?" Jolly mumbled as he finally felt the initial wave pass and he managed to readjust his hold on the stick. Even so, the relief he felt was only temporary and he had a dread feeling that it was going to come back soon. "Get your nose up, Jolly," Boomer grew slightly stern as he saw that the sergeant's viper was now back on a course proper enough so that there was no danger of a crash, but still carried the danger of an awkward landing that could damage the viper and the landing bay tarmac. "That cadet made a better landing then you're about to make. Another five degrees down and I'd have to signal them to prepare for a collision!" "Uh...yeah. Sorry. I..." he took a deep breath hoping that could bring some more temporary relief but he found it wasn't having any effect. Inside, he could never recall a time in his life where he felt more sick then he did now. Frack, he thought. And on the day of the sendoff party. I'll have to go to the Life Station for a whole cycle and miss everything. "Are you all right?" Boomer repeated, now relieved to see that Jolly's viper was back on a normal enough heading. "I....I don't know, I... There's a buzzing in my ears, my head's spinning....." "Okay, relax. You're probably leaking fuel vapors into your cockpit atmosphere. We'll get it checked as soon as you land." He then paused and saw that Jolly's viper had slid down another five degrees at the nose. "That is, if you land, Sergeant. Now keep your nose up." "Yeah, yeah....okay. Nose up." Jolly took another breath and now wondered if the nausea was going to overtake him completely. If that happened while his helmet was still on, he knew the results could be fatal. Finally, Jolly's viper, still pitching slightly to the right but not at a dangerous rate, entered the landing bay and came to a stop. Two centons later, Boomer was aboard as well. As soon as the dark-skinned lieutenant got out of his fighter and his feet hit the tarmac, he sprinted over to Jolly's parked viper and saw with concern that while Jolly had his canopy up and his helmet off, he was still seated in the cockpit taking deep breaths over and over. "Jolly?" Boomer looked up. "Jolly, do you need any help getting out?" The corpulent sergeant shook his head slightly and then seemingly staggered to his feet, awkwardly swinging one leg out and then dropping to the floor. Boomer rushed over, and helped him back to a standing position. "Come on," he said gently as he held him by the arm. "Come on, let's get you to that decon turbowash right now. Maybe that'll help." "Yeah..." Jolly whispered. "Yeah...maybe that's it." He guided Jolly over to the decontamination chamber which all pilots were required to go through after landing on any uncharted planetary surfaces just in case a stray germ was picked up. The cursory procedure was the decontamination scan which emitted a powerful beam that was so efficient the pilot didn't even need to take his clothes off. An auxiliary chamber provided a more thorough turbowash procedure as a back-up unit. The turbowash unit had over the last several yahrens become a more neglected component of the battlestar but remained there just in case of an emergency. Clearly, this seemed like one of those rare occasions when it would finally be needed. Boomer removed Jolly's flight jacket and was about to help him with his tunic when the sergeant brushed his hand away. "Frack, no. Let me do that myself. I----I can manage it from here." "Okay," Boomer said firmly, baffled as to how his friend could have grown so violently ill so rapidly. "And as soon as you're done, I want you to check into the Life Station and have Dr. Salik give you a complete look-over." Jolly struggled to raise his head so he could look Boomer in the eye. "Guess that means I have to miss the party." "Maybe." Boomer then patted him on the shoulder. "But don't worry, Jolly. I'll see to it that one bottle gets set aside for you. Now you just get yourself inside." As soon as Jolly was inside, Boomer calmly activated the scan beam for the regular decontamination procedure. He felt the warmth of the yellow beam washing over him, penetrating his dusty uniform completely. If he picked up a germ from any known disease in the annals of Colonial Medicine, the decon procedure would have been able to neutralize it in an instant. Once the procedure was done, he picked up his helmet, exited the chamber and went over to a videocom hookup. "Beta Patrol leader to bridge. Request to speak to Commander Adama to offer report on patrol sweep." It only took five microns before both Adama and Tigh were filling the monitor screen. "Yes, Boomer?" Adama asked with concern. "Commander, we completed our sweep of the right flank. It's too dangerous sir, we discovered a Cylon outpost. Stationed on an asteroid in----" he stopped to consult his hand-held computer board that contained the data, "Otarsis quadrant nine-one-one." "You're sure of that?" the level of concern went up just a faint trace in the commander's voice. "It's well-hidden, sir, but it's there. Probably doesn't contain a squadron's worth of fighters based on the energy capacity readings we scanned, but I doubt that means too much." "No, it doesn't." Adama grunted. "Thank you, Lieutenant." "By your leave, sir," Boomer said as he saw the monitor go blank. As he turned away, he suddenly rubbed his temples vigorously as he felt the beginnings of a headache. Great, he thought. Maybe I'll need to pay the Life Station a visit myself before I head for the party. He decided to check on Jolly one last time before heading up. He walked back into the decontamination zone and then peered his head into the window of the turbowash chamber. His eyes then widened in horror when he saw Jolly sprawled out on the floor, the water of the turbowash showering over him at medium strength. The rest of his uniform was still on. "Jolly!" Boomer pounded on the door and then hurriedly activated the emergency override so he could get in. He quickly shut the turbowash off and helped his friend back to a sitting position. "Jolly, what's wrong?" The corpulent sergeant was literally shaking. "I....I don't....oh God, Boomer, I----." "Okay, okay. Take it easy. Take it easy. I'll get you some help." He dashed back out and grabbed the telecom unit on the wall and punched the access code for the Life Station. "Life Station," he instantly recognized the voice on the other end as that of Cassiopeia, the one-time socialator who had captured Starbuck's attention over the last sectan. "This is Lieutenant Boomer. I'm in Alpha Landing Bay in the Decontamination Zone and I need a couple of med-techs down here, fast! A pilot has collapsed. He's violently ill and needs immediate treatment." "Okay, Lieutenant!" Cassiopeia's voice suddenly grew urgent. "We'll be down there in two centons with a gurney unit." Boomer hung up the telecom and came back over to Jolly. The sergeant was still in a seated position, now shaking violently from the dampness of his uniform. "Oh God," Jolly whispered. "Do you think....Boomer....do you think maybe on the asteroid, we......" "Hey, hey. Take it easy." Boomer grabbed him by the shoulders. "I was there with you and I feel just fine. You must have inhaled some fuel vapors in your viper cockpit. That's all. You breathe too much of that stuff and it can really frack a guy's system up good." "I...don't....know, I didn't smell...." he shook his head again as another wave of dizziness came over him. Boomer felt a slight trace of alarm go off when he heard that. If Jolly had inhaled fuel vapors it would have given off a distinctive smell. But he said he hadn't smelled anything like that. So was it possible then that he had contracted something on the surface? And if that were the case.... He then shook his head. No, he didn't have to worry about himself. He'd gone through the decon procedure and felt fine but for the headache so if it was related to that, then it was probably a case of Jolly being unfortunate enough to feel the symptoms before he could begin the procedure. Whatever the case, there was nothing to make Boomer think that he should feel at risk himself. He heard the sound of the turbo lift come to a stop and then the rush of footsteps across the tarmac. When he looked up, he saw two med-techs, both wearing full length coveralls and masks, carrying a gurney unit. "Take care of him, guys," Boomer said. "And keep me updated on his progress." "We'll do all we can for him, Lieutenant," the first med-tech, who he realized was Cassiopeia, said. "How do you feel?" "I'm okay," Boomer said almost defiantly. "I've gone through decon and I haven't felt anything like what he's going through." For an instant, Cassiopeia hesitated slightly, wondering if she should take one other precautionary step. But then she realized that Boomer would probably start to argue the matter with her, and if that happened there would only be wasted time getting needed attention for Sergeant Jolly. "Okay, Lieutenant. You can go." Boomer leaned down and patted Jolly's hand. "Hang in there, buddy. I'll bring two bottles down later." He waited to see the med-techs carry Jolly off on the gurney, and then he took a deep breath and headed for the turbo lift that would take him up to the Officers Club. As soon as Adama had finished his brief conversation with Boomer, the Galactica commander had grimly moved back to the upper level to take a long look at the giant navigational board. Tigh followed behind him, waiting to hear Adama's next order. The commander bit his lip as he stared at the board and took another twenty microns before he finally said without looking at Tigh, "Colonel, order the helm that we'll be changing course to this quadrant." He ran his hand over the area that Apollo's patrol had gone out to investigate. "Without waiting for Captain Apollo's report on that sector?" Adama let out a grunt, "Well, we can't go that way," he motioned his hand on the upper section where Boomer and Jolly had just returned from. "We know what's in this sector. A Cylon outpost that can easily notify their baseships and put them back on our scent for the first time in a sectar." He shook his head grimly, "We'll just have to hope that Captain Apollo's report is more optimistic." "What if it isn't, Commander?" Tigh had to prod him on this point. "For all we know, the outpost could be a decoy designed to make us go off in the other direction where their strength is more concentrated." Adama shrugged, "If that were true, then I doubt that Apollo and Starbuck would have lived to make a return trip, and scanners show they're on their way back. For now though, we need to take some initiative and at least put the Fleet on a heading where we know we're going in the opposite direction from where a known Cylon presence is." He looked over at Omega, "Omega, how much longer until Alpha Patrol returns?" "They're just five centons out now." "Excellent. As soon as they're aboard, have them report to me on the double." Out of the corner of his eye, Tigh could see the monitor on his own station that he'd activated to keep an eye on the party in the Officers Club. He'd realized that he'd gone five centons without checking up on that, and it also reminded him to bring up something else. "Ah, Commander," the executive officer said, "I think I mentioned to you that Apollo's sendoff party is just getting started in the Officers Club. Blue Squadron's put a lot into it, and I hope you won't have to detain Apollo any longer then he needs to be kept." "I'll do what I can, Tigh," Adama said sympathetically, but firmly, "But if it turns out that Apollo has information that requires a long debriefing, then I'm not about to risk the lives of everyone in the Fleet just for the sake of my own son's sendoff party." He turned and walked away to the other side of the upper level, then stopped and turned around again. This time, his expression was considerably softer. "However, should events warrant a lengthy briefing, then I'll have no objections to extending tonight's curfew so he gets to enjoy the full benefits of the celebration." He smiled. "Pass the word to the rest of the guests." "Yes sir," Tigh grinned and then descended the steps to the lower level. As soon as Boomer arrived in the Officers Club, he had to push his way through the large crowd of people that were now gathered inside the room. It was clear that all of Blue Squadron's ranks was now present for the celebration, save for Starbuck and the guest of honor. "Hey Boomer! You made it just in time. We decided the ambrosia couldn't wait any longer and that we'd give it a head start for Apollo." Boomer barely heard Greenbean's words. He was beginning to hear a funny ringing in his ears that had him slightly worried. Wasn't that what Jolly said he was feeling just before..... He managed to snap himself back to the present and he made his way through the crush of the pilots and to the bar, where tankards of ale and chalices of ambrosia filled the counter. He decided to have an ale first and reached for the tankard, and when he tried to lift it, he almost dropped it. His entire body had now gone weak, and he felt completely drained of strength. Struggling to take a sip from his tankard, he then lost his footing briefly and stumbled across the floor, bumping into two pilots and slightly spilling his tankard. "Hey, Boomer watch it!" Corporal Vickers said angrily as he felt the ale spill on his uniform and he wiped at the stain. "Boomer, you okay?" Giles came over and held out his hand to take him by the arm. "I'm....fine," Boomer muttered. "Well watch your step, will you?" Giles then grew angry as he straightened the lieutenant. "The Colonel's watching us on the monitor. Now quit clowning around!" "Giles, you lousy....." Boomer tried to summon an angry surge inside him as though that might have overridden the strange feeling of dizziness he just felt. "Gentlemen!" Tigh's voice suddenly filled the room as all heads whipped toward the monitor and saw his glaring countenance. "As Captain Apollo is only five centons away from returning, I was about to inform you that the curfew had been extended. But if you men are going to get falling-down drunk, I might as well see to it that that order gets rescinded!" Boomer managed to straighten himself and summon all the strength in his voice. "I am....not drunk, sir. Just...a little dizziness." Tigh continued to glare at them. "Well anymore ?dizziness' then, and I'll send everyone back to quarters and have all your supplies impounded. Is that understood?" "Yes sir." all the pilots mumbled in unison. The monitor then went blank and Boomer now saw that almost every pair of eyes in the room was angrily trained on him. "Hey look," Boomer said. "It's not my fault, I just ahh...." and then suddenly Boomer felt it. A massive wave of dizziness and nausea unlike anything he'd ever felt before in his life. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor. "Boomer? Boomer!" Giles said with alarm as he and Greenbean grabbed the dark-skinned warrior and helped him over to a nearby chair. "Hey, relax man, relax." Greenbean patted him on the back as soon as Boomer was seated. "Those deep patrols can be tough. We all know that." "No, I ah....oh my God," as the wave of dizziness and nausea increased in Boomer, he instantly realized that he'd just made an awful mistake centons ago down in the Landing Bay. "Get....contact the Life Station. Tell them....send gurney down here." "Yeah, yeah. Okay Boomer, we'll do that." Greenbean motioned, "Vickers, telecom the Life Station and have them send some med-techs down here, fast!" Dr. Salik, the Galactica's Chief Medical Officer and Chief Medical Officer for the entire Fleet had just gone on-duty when he saw the gurney bearing Sergeant Jolly enter the Life Station's isolation unit. Without waiting for the med-techs to summon him, the onetime chief of the Canceran Medical Institute threw on an isolation coverall and mask and entered the adjacent chamber. "Cassiopeia, what's wrong with this man?" "Flight Sergeant Jolly of Blue Squadron," Cassiopeia said as she and Med-Tech Lycus helped lift Jolly off the gurney and place him on the examination table. The sergeant was violently thrashing about. "He and Lieutenant Boomer just got back from deep patrol and he passed out in the decon turbowash. Dizziness, nausea, ringing in the ears." "Get the rest of his clothes off and hook him up to a computer scan, fast!" It took only a centon for the med-techs to strip off the rest of Jolly's uniform and hook two lifelines from a medical computer to his body so they could get precise readings on his condition. The instant Salik began to read the results on the computer, his jaw almost fell open from behind his mask. "Internal body temperature rising, at least five degrees above normal," he said. "Pulse growing rapid. Lords of Kobol, has this man been in contact with anyone else?" "Only Lieutenant Boomer, sir," Cassiopeia began to feel a sense of horror come over her as she realized what Salik was getting at. "He....wasn't showing any signs of illness and he'd already completed decontamination." "If this represents an errant virus that we have no immunity to, then Decon won't be of any help!" Salik's tone grew angry. "Don't these pilots realize that? Where's Lieutenant Boomer now?" "He's....in the Officers Club." Cassiopeia had to summon all her strength to keep from losing control as she realized that she may have made a terrible mistake in not getting Boomer down to the Life Station with Jolly. "There's a sendoff party going on for Captain Apollo." "Dear God," Salik whispered in horror. "Get this man in a support chamber, quickly." The Chief Medical Officer then bolted from the isolation unit and headed back into the main Life Station. As soon as he was in there, he saw Med-Tech Nestor holding the telecom. "Sir," Nestor said, "We've just gotten a telecom from the Officers Club. Lieutenant Boomer----" Salik abruptly came over and snatched the telecom away from the med-tech. "This is Dr. Salik. I want all of you in that Club to listen to me and to listen to me good! Not a single person is to enter or leave that room for any reason! Is that understood? All of you are to stay right where you are until Life Station personnel arrive!" From the other end, there was bewilderment in Corporal Vickers' voice. "Uh...yes sir. We'll wait." "You'd better, because this is a matter of life and death!" Salik then hung the telecom up and wheeled around. "All of you listen up! I want every med-tech to get isolation suits and masks on and have every last support chamber ready to bring down to the Officers Club! On the double! Every person in that Club is to be brought back here in a support chamber, no exceptions!" The Chief Medical Officer then dashed out of the Life Station and headed straight for the turbolift to the Bridge. "Alpha Patrol arrival, one centon," Omega said. "Good." Adama said. "Course readjusted?" "Affirmative. Fleet heading now on path of Alpha Patrol's trajectory." "Commander?" Athena called over from her station. Adama made his way over to his daughter. "Yes?" "Father," Athena suddenly dropped her tone, "I just....got a strange communique from Captain Janus, the head of our shuttle pilot program." "I know him," Adama said. "What did he send?" "Well...he just sent a congratulatory message about the newest pilot in the family. I didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about, and when I asked for clarification he got a bit embarrassed and then didn't say anything more about it. Do you know what he's talking about?" "No," her father frowned and shook his head. "That sounds odd. I guess someone played some kind of practical joke on Janus and he must have fallen for it." "Doesn't make much sense," Athena admitted, "Still----" Before his daughter could go on, all activity on the Bridge came to a halt when they saw Dr. Salik burst into the command center. The short doctor was out of breath, a look of horror on his face. "Commander, I must speak to you immediately! It's a matter of grave urgency!" Adama frowned and came over to where Salik stood. "Doctor, I have a patrol squadron returning that I need to debrief immediately. Can this wait?" "No sir, it can not wait." Salik's tone was grave, "Because this concerns the well-being of every man, woman and child in the Fleet." It took the Chief Medical Officer only a centon to summarize the situation. When he was done, there was a feeling of sick horror in both Adama and Tigh. "The bottom line Commander is if this virus isn't isolated fast, then every one in this Fleet could die." "Damn," Adama clenched his fist, "Boomer had been in such close proximity to Jolly and it never occurred to him to go into immediate isolation?" "Must have been the excitement over the party," Tigh offered grimly. "Excitement of the party!" Adama found that anger was the only safety valve he could employ to keep down the level of panic he was beginning to feel inside. "With all of Blue Squadron in those quarters we've probably put half our entire defense force at risk!" The commander then went over to the intercom. "Attention, Security. I want all persons who might have come into contact with Lieutenant Boomer and Sergeant Jolly in the Landing Bay placed in quarantine. Inform Ground Crew Maintenance not to touch either of their vipers unless they're in full isolation garments!" And then, Adama, Tigh and Salik all exited the Bridge at a rapid pace. Apollo and Starbuck were both putting their vipers into a shutdown mode and missed the announcement that had filled the landing bay concerning the security alert. As soon as the captain was out of his viper, he quickly came over to Starbuck and patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks a lot, Starbuck. I owe you one." The blonde lieutenant shrugged with a sly grin, "Hey, what's a buddy for if not to make a guy feel comfortable during his last few cycles before he gets sealed?" He then guided him toward the turbo lift. "Meantime, let's head to the Club and you can buy me that drink and fumarello you promised me." "Uh, just a micron Starbuck." Apollo said as he came over to the videocom. "I'd better check in with the Bridge first and give them the rundown on that void out there." "Okay," his friend nodded. "I'll wait." As soon as Apollo activated the videocom, located on the opposite of the Landing Bay from the one next to the Decon chamber which Boomer had earlier used, he saw his sister's face come on the screen. "Athena, I need to speak to the Commander. I've got my report on our patrol sweep." "Sorry, Apollo," Athena said. "He and Tigh just left the bridge a centon ago." "What for?" Apollo frowned. "He had to know we were about to land, didn't he?" "He did, but Dr. Salik just stormed in here about something important. I wasn't able to listen in." "I see." her brother's frown deepened. "Well notify him that Starbuck and I are back. We'll be in the Officers Club if he needs us." He flicked off the videocom before his sister could reply and went back over to Starbuck. "That was fast." "He wasn't there. We'll probably have to make our report direct from the Club." "That's just the way I like to conduct business. Always mix it in with pleasure," Starbuck motioned Apollo to get on the turbo lift. "Come on buddy, let's go." "I hope this is worth my time," Apollo said as the lift began to move up. "I really should pop in on Serina now that I'm back." "Apollo, this will really be worth your time. You're going to have an afternoon and evening you'll remember for the rest of your life." As soon as the turbolift stopped and they stepped into the corridor that lead to the Officers Club, they both stopped in their tracks when they saw a large volume of med-tech personnel wearing isolation suits rolling large life support chambers toward the compartment door that lead to the Officers Club. "What the frack?" Starbuck's jaw fell open in disbelief. "Hey!" he called, "What gives!" The suited figure of med-tech Nestor spun around, "Captain, Lieutenant get out of this area now! This area's under strict quarantine by order of Commander Adama!" "Huh?" Apollo's bewilderment increased. "Apollo! Starbuck! You heard him! Come with us!" The two warriors turned around and saw the grim figures of Adama, Tigh and Salik marching toward them. The Chief Medical Officer came over to Nestor, "How many in there altogether?" "About forty-seven, sir. We've barely got enough support chambers aboard the Galactica to handle them all." "I'll try to see if the Hospital Ships in the Fleet can have some more shuttled over if we need them. Just keep at it and make sure no one enters that room unless they're suited up!" Salik then turned and dashed away to head back to the Life Station. "Father," Apollo turned to Adama, "What does this all mean?" The magnitude of the situation now hit Adama in full force as he slowly shook his head. Apollo was horrified to see an expression of helplessness on his father's face that he hadn't seen the night of the Holocaust. "It could very well mean the end of us all." Five centons later, Adama, Tigh and the two warriors were back on the bridge. "And you're certain you didn't come into contact with any launch crew personnel who were servicing Boomer and Jolly's vipers?" "No." Apollo shook his head. "We were never anywhere near where they were in the Landing Bay." "Then that means the two of you should be safe from contamination. But until we get a thorough check on their vipers and make sure they didn't leave virus traces in their ships, we have to keep that part of Alpha Bay sealed off." "And in the meantime everyone who was in the Officers Club is infected?" "Yes." Adama nodded grimly, "Some of them might not develop symptoms for days, but since they were all within a few metrones of Boomer and unprotected, at the very least they're carriers." "Of all the incredibly stupid blunders!" Apollo finally felt it impossible to hold back his sense of frustration and anger over this serious turn of events. It was bad enough to think of more than forty people infected by a deadly virus, but to realize that the entire complement of Blue Squadron were the ones infected was almost impossible to take. "I know," his father waved a hand. "I know, but we can't wallow in recriminations over that. The important thing is to recover from this and deal with other immediate problems at hand." They came up to the navigation board. "We've had to alter course to the trajectory you and Starbuck took your patrol sweep on." "Commander," Starbuck interjected, "I'm afraid that route's out of the question." "How come?" the commander raised an eyebrow. "We had no choice when Boomer reported a Cylon outpost along his path." "But there's something potentially more dangerous than a Cylon outpost on that path." "What do you mean, Captain?" this from Tigh. Apollo took a breath. "We encountered a magnetic sea that seemed almost endless." "Magnetic sea?" Tigh frowned. "A black void." Starbuck said. "It was like going into some deep, dark bottomless pit into infinity. There was no way we could scan the other side. You should have seen what it did to our sensors and communications." "And if Starbuck hadn't flown in after me by the seat of his pants, I wouldn't have made it back." Tigh let out an exasperated sigh, "That tears it then, we can't go that way. With a Fleet this large to manage we'd run the risk of seeing who knows how many of our ships get lost." "What do you recommend then, sir, since the other direction with the outpost is no good either?" Starbuck asked. The executive officer shrugged, "Well...maybe a safer option would be to skirt around the void, keeping in sight of it on our flank and following its perimeter. Commander, what do you think?" There was no response from Adama. The other three men then stared at him and saw that the commander had a faraway look in his eye as though he were totally oblivious to their presence. "Commander?" Tigh repeated. Another five microns went by before Adama spoke, still avoiding eye contact with them. "I'll be in my quarters," he then turned away from them and began to walk away. "Maintain this course until further notice." "But Commander!" Tigh protested as he took a step after him, "We're headed straight for the void!" Adama stopped and turned around. "My decision is final, Tigh. Keep us on this course for now. Tell Dr. Salik to contact me in my quarters as soon as he has more information about the disease." He then looked at Apollo, "Apollo, as soon as I get that report from Salik, I'll need to see you and Captain Killian to discuss the matter of our remaining pilot strength. I'll let you know when." "Yes sir," Apollo nodded, this time baffled by his father's reaction to news of the void. It almost seemed as if Adama had received some kind of mystical insight once he'd heard that piece of information. As soon as Adama was gone, Tigh turned back to the pilots. "How far until we reach the void at our regular Fleet speed?" "The void was toward the tail end of our run," Starbuck said, "We shouldn't reach it for about another two or three days I think." "Hopefully that'll give us enough time for him to come up with a better alternative," Tigh grunted. "In the meantime, the two of you should probably take it easy for now." "Yeah, we will." Starbuck then shook his head, "Lords of Kobol, if it weren't for that party....." "Skip it, Starbuck. When all's said and done there's blame to go around to a lot of people and there's no point singling anyone out for it. All we can do is deal with it and hopefully come out of it." A full centar had passed since all of the pilots from Blue Squadron had been moved out of the Officers Club in life support chambers and brought into the Life Station. It had been an almost traumatic time for Cassiopeia who found herself brooding inside over her decision not to force Boomer to come down for immediate examination. She knew that had she taken decisive action none of the men who now lay in the chambers would be where they were now. What only added to the difficulty was seeing how so many of them were protesting violently that they didn't need to be treated. That they felt fine. And then suddenly, she would see the symptoms take hold over most of them. "....Damn it, is this necessary?" Giles was protesting from inside his chamber, and he almost looked as though he were ready to pound his fists on the glass case that shielded him from the outside. "I feel fine. I never----" And then suddenly, she saw Giles go into a series of violent shakes, the sweat breaking out all over his body. She glanced at his life scan readings and saw that his internal body temperature had shot up more than three degrees in an instant. She had to turn her head away and go off to another part of the Life Station to try and put herself at ease for now. But no matter how much she tried, the sense of guilt and anger with herself only seemed to deepen. Maybe I'm not cut out for this kind of work after all, she thought as she leaned against the bulkhead. Maybe being a socialator was the only thing I was ever capable of being good at. "Cassiopeia?" She looked up and saw Salik approaching her with concern. "Are you okay?" he put a hand on her shoulder. Cassiopeia managed to straighten herself. "I'm....fine. I just needed a centon away from all that." "I understand," he nodded and looked back at the almost endless row of life support chambers that had been brought in. "This is a crisis we've never had to face the likes of in who knows how many yahrens. Colonial medicine was always so well advanced to deal with every known disease and virus, that it's been forever since we had to deal with the danger of contagious unknown virus." His words were too much for Cassiopeia's psyche to bear. She needed to finally speak out about what she was feeling. "Doctor, it's my fault. I handled the transport of Jolly to the Life Station and I could have stopped Boomer from ever leaving that area and he never would have gone to the Officers Club." Salik stared at her for an instant with no change in expression. When he spoke, his tone was as gentle as it could be. "Boomer talked you out of it, didn't he?" "Yes." she nodded. "And he wasn't showing signs like Jolly was, and he fed you the line about going through Decon procedures?" "Yes." "Then don't be too hard on yourself." He put his hand on her shoulder again. "You made an error in judgment, but it was an understandable error, just like Boomer's error was understandable. If he were showing symptoms at that particular micron the both of you wouldn't have hesitated to act as you should have. It was just a cruel trick of fate that the disease hadn't yet hit him then." "But the bottom line Doctor, is that I should have known better. How can I ever be a responsible med-tech if I----" "Cassiopeia," his voice took on an almost parental air. "You've had to learn a painful lesson, but you aren't the first person in the medical profession, be it a med-tech or a doctor, who's gone through something like that. No one's died because of this, and if we are able to isolate this virus and find a cure then this will be something you need not ever worry about again." He took a breath. "But even if that doesn't happen, I don't want you to beat yourself over this. And I don't want to see you develop any second thoughts about being a part of this staff. In just one sectar, you've shown more natural ability than any med-tech trainee I've ever worked with. I think you've got the potential to go a long ways in the medical profession, Cassiopeia." For the first time, Cassiopeia felt some of the depression inside her ease a bit. Since she'd joined the staff just after the escape from Carillon, she'd found Salik to be a magnificent teacher, mentor and father-figure to her. The first person since the death of her father ten yahrens before, who could provide that kind of role to her. If Salik was convinced that she could still make it as a med-tech, then there was indeed no reason for her to keep brooding about the events that had just happened. She needed to get back to her job immediately and do all she could to help. "Thank you, Doctor," she smiled and then assumed a business-like posture. "I'm ready to get back to work now." He gave her another smile of encouragement and they walked back over to the row of life support chambers. She looked down at the one that held Greenbean, and consulted the readouts. "Doctor, his life readings are going critical." "This pattern's going to repeat itself with all of them," Salik grunted. "Cassiopeia, lower the cryo-temps on every support chamber to minus 7.2. That's as low as it can go for the body to keep functioning, but at least it'll buy us the maximum time in terms of the virus' ability to spread through them." "That gives us about two sectans at best before their bodies can't take the cryo-freeze process any longer." "I know," the Chief Medical Officer nodded. "Let's just pray to God that we find the cure long before then." "Sir?" Med-tech Nestor came up to them. "Commander Adama requests an update on the situation. He's in his quarters." "I'll give him the blunt truth." Salik went over to the nearby videocom unit. Since he had returned to his quarters, Adama had spent most of the time consulting his copy of the Book of the Word, the chief collection of holy writings in Colonial religion. He had always found it to be the greatest source of inspiration and comfort to him during times of crisis. Now, he needed to search it for a potential answer to a question that had formed in his mind the instant Apollo and Starbuck had mentioned the strange report of a vast magnetic void. If he could find the answer, then maybe, for the first time since their flight from the Colonies had begun more than a sectar ago, an answer to the question of where their final destination lay could be found. But as he searched through the Book of the Word, trying to find the relevant passage, he found that the more immediate problem of the strange illness that had struck down the entire complement of Blue Squadron deserved more attention. For if that problem could not be addressed quickly, then the other question would become irrelevant for all eternity. And so, instead of looking for the answer to the first question, he spent his time re-reading the more familiar passages that dealt with Divine reassurance and guidance during times of crisis and tragedy. They had helped him get through the Holocaust, and now he needed them again to help him through this crisis. A centar had gone by with no news from the Life Station about the pilots, so he shut off his computer text of the Holy Book and decided it was time to get some answers. The instant he saw Salik's face on the videocom screen, he got straight to the point. "Dr. Salik," he said bluntly, "What is the status of Blue Squadron." Salik shook his head, "I don't have any good news to report, Commander. The disease has spread through all of the men who were at that party, and in the two Ground Crew workers who serviced Boomer and Jolly's vipers after they landed. Fortunately they didn't come into contact with anyone else so the only good news I suppose I can report is that we've contained the disease from spreading any further in the Galactica." "But what about the men who are infected, Doctor?" Adama's voice rose. "That's the more urgent matter now." "I'm sorry, Commander. I can't isolate the virus yet. This is a strain that doesn't match anything in the annals of Colonial medicine. We need to go through more than fifty thousand major viral strains just to look for any similarities we can start with, and even with med-techs working the computers round the clock, Kobol only knows how long that would take." He paused. "For now, all I can do is put every one who's been infected in cryogenic suspension, which will at least buy us some time to look for a cure. But if we can't find it soon, then not even cryo-freeze will save their lives." Adama found it amazing at how blunt and to the point Salik was. A total contrast from his predecessor as Chief Medical Officer of the Galactica, Dr. Paye, who had been among the casualties of the Ovions at Carillon. Whereas Paye tended to dance around bad news with a lot of long-winded prefaces and qualifications, Salik believed in cutting through the felgercarb in an instant. "Doctor," Adama's tone grew more grave, "You understand the significance of these men, don't you? They represent more than half the fighting force that we need to defend this Fleet against Cylon attack. Without them, our defenses become weakened to an almost totally unacceptable level!" Salik sighed with sadness, "I understand all that, Commander. But I'm afraid that's your problem to deal with. Mine is just keeping them alive." An uneasy silence now filled the air that lasted for nearly a half centon. "By your leave, sir?" Salik gently asked. "I really must get back to my duties." "Yes, yes." Adama nodded. "Stay with it, Salik. Give me updates every centar no matter what you find or don't find." The commander then shut off the videocom and warily rubbed his temples. He cast a glance at the holopicture of his wife Ila on the edge of his desk that he'd finally found the strength to take out of storage recently, and once again yearned for the comfort and strength she had always been able to provide him. Knowing that he needed to take charge of the situation, he then contacted the Bridge. "Omega," he said. "I want the complete data on all Colonial Service personnel in this Fleet with any flight experience sent up to me immediately." Chapter Five Apollo and Starbuck had parted company after leaving the Bridge, as both found themselves unable to talk now that the nightmare scenario of their entire squadron struck down by illness was confronting them. The brash lieutenant headed immediately for the Life Station for a closer look at how his fellow pilots were doing, while Apollo decided that the only way he could get his mind off what had happened was to go see Serina. He reached the compartment door that lead to the quarters Serina shared with Boxey. They were not that spacious, with one room for bunk space and a second room with a turbo-dispenser, and Apollo reminded himself that at some point he and Serina needed to look at the possibility of finding quarters elsewhere on the Galactica that would provide just a bit more space that was needed for a married couple with a child. It would not be an easy request since space was already at a premium aboard the battlestar, but one thing Apollo wasn't going to stand for were quarters that offered only space for a bunk set-up where Boxey would have to sleep in the same room. At the very least some concession to a married couple so they could have a modicum of privacy had to be allowed. Even if it meant moving off the Galactica altogether to quarters aboard a passenger freighter, Apollo was determined that he and Serina get the space they needed. When he opened the compartment door he saw that Boxey was playing with his robot daggit Muffit Two. Apollo had gotten the somewhat eccentric Electronics Scientist Dr. Wilker to build the robot as a replacement for Boxey's daggit that had been lost during the Cylon attack on Caprica City. The instant the robot had been presented to Boxey, the little boy had immediately fallen in love with his new pet and was soon inseparable from it. So much so, that it had almost put his life in jeopardy when Boxey had gone after his wandering daggit on Carillon and came within microns of being struck down by a Cylon centurion when the turbo-lift he had been riding had gone down to the bottom of the mine shaft levels. Apollo still considered it a miracle that he and Starbuck had been in the corridor investigating at the time and been able to save Boxey's life. In the wake of the Carillon experience, both Apollo and Serina had worried that Boxey might show signs of emotional scars and trauma after all he'd been through. Living through the fiery destruction of Caprica City all around him. Losing all his friends, which included his primary class schoolmates and a kindly old woman named Thalia who'd lived next door to Serina, and who'd always been known as "Auntie" to him. And then the Carillon experience of escaping a brush with death and then seeing with his own eyes the horrifying results of what the Ovions had done to so many of the human visitors to Carillon. Yet amazingly, Boxey seemed to show more resilience then either Apollo or Serina could have expected. Within a day after the Galactica had put Carillon behind them, Boxey was already back to his usual precocious self and showed no signs of being scarred by any of the traumas he'd been through. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he had such a tight circle of new friends to count on that had helped. Especially the thought that he was about to gain for the first time in his life, a real father. It was one thing he'd never had at any time in his life since his natural father had been a university classmate of Serina's, who'd panicked and disappeared after a night of misguided drunken passion had left Serina pregnant and determined to keep her baby. So bitter was Serina about the experience that she refused to tell Apollo what his name was. It was as if she didn't want Apollo to ever get the idea of making a check to see if Boxey's natural father might be among the 70,000 survivors of the Fleet. As far as Serina was concerned, Boxey's natural father was a dead man who deserved to be forgotten for eternity. But Serina never would have had to worry about Apollo checking up on a matter like that. Over the last sectar he'd built up a close relationship with Boxey to the point where he wanted Boxey to regard him as his true father for all time once Apollo became sealed to Serina. When that happened, the fact that Boxey wasn't his son by blood would be totally irrelevant. Indeed, Colonial law was quite explicit on that point. Ancient tradition going back many thousands of yahrens stipulated that any child of an unmarried woman or widow automatically became the son of whoever his mother happened to marry in the fullest legal sense of the term. Only if the mother was divorced and then remarried did the new husband become regarded as a "stepfather" only. Apollo noticed that Boxey was pointing his finger at Muffit, as though he were mimicking a warrior about to fire a laser pistol. He then cocked his finger and said, "Zap!" three times and then Muffit, who had been standing on his hind feet abruptly dropped to the floor. "Pretty good aim." Apollo grinned. The six yahren old child looked up and smiled wide. "Apollo!" "How've you been?" he reached down and lifted him up. "Great. Muffit's helping me learn how to be a warrior." "You're doing a good job, Muffit," Apollo looked down at the daggit then lifted Boxey up to his eye level again. "Your mom in?" "Yeah, she's ah...." abruptly, the little boy went silent. "Hey, what's this? Secrets?" Apollo's grin took on a sly edge. "What's she doing?" Boxey remained silent. "I'll bet I know what it is. She's trying on her sealing gown, right? And I'm not supposed to see." The little boy shrugged, "Sort of." "Apollo?" Serina's voice sounded from the next room. "I'll be right out. Just give me another micron." Apollo walked over to the compartment door that led to the next room, still carrying Boxey. "Don't worry. I've never believed in that old Gemonese superstition about bad luck to see a bride before the sealing ceremony." The door then slid open and Apollo froze in disbelief when he saw Serina step out, wearing not her sealing gown, but the tan tunic of a Colonial warrior. "Flight Corporal Serina reporting for duty, Captain." Serina smiled and gave a brisk military salute. Inside though, she was churning with anxiety, hoping at least that some disarming humor and Boxey's presence would be enough to soften the blow Apollo had to be feeling at that instant. Apollo slowly lowered Boxey and stared at her further, his air of disbelief only deepening. "Is this some kind of a joke, Serina?" "No," she shook her head. "You're now looking at a fully qualified shuttle pilot who just completed her first solo training flight this morning." Her fiancee dazedly shook his head, as though he thought he might snap himself out of a dream. "When did you find the time to do something like that?" "What do you think I've been doing these last two sectans when you and I weren't seeing much of each other?" Serina answered. "I've been in shuttle training the whole time." "I see," Apollo said blankly. He then looked down at Boxey, "Uh...Boxey, can you excuse us for a couple centons? Your mother and I need to talk alone." "Sure," the little boy nodded and walked away from them, calling over to his pet, "Come on Muffit, they're going to argue." "We are not going to argue!" Serina bristled slightly as she glared at her son. Just as the doors to the compartment opened and Boxey and Muffit exited, they were able to hear him say just before the doors shut, "Yes they are." "Yes we are," Apollo said quietly, but without disguising the anger he now felt. "What in Hades do you think you're doing with this?" "Something I need to do, Apollo." His fiancee matched his tome. "Something to give my life a sense of purpose." "Serina, you can't be serious!" Apollo now raised his voice. "You're the most famous journalist in all the Colonies, and the Fleet's about to set up an information service that you'd be perfect for! Why would you turn your back on something like that?" "Because I don't want to be a journalist anymore, Apollo." Serina said. "We don't live in a society where journalists can be productive people going around and ferreting out information that the people have a right to know. We're now living in a closed society where the military has to keep everything under tight control in the name of survival and security. Whatever broadcast network the Fleet sets up is good enough for empty-headed anchors like Zara and Zed, but not for me. I need to feel like I'm making a difference, and the only way I can do that is to do something a lot more meaningful then reading off pre-screened releases from a military censor." "So you go off and enlist in the service and take a shuttle training course without so much as telling me about it?" Apollo's nostrils flared. "I knew you would have raised questions about it, then," she held her ground. "I wanted to go through the training without any outside pressure from you to see if I could hack it. If I found out I had no aptitude for it and washed out, then that way I could forget the whole thing with a clear conscience and never tell you about it. But now I'm telling you about it because I've found this is something I'm good at." "Serina, a shuttle pilot's life is too dangerous. I won't let you do it." "You don't have any choice in the matter, Apollo," Serina shot back, wondering inside whether something catastrophic that she hadn't anticipated was brewing. "Serina, we're about to get married!" "What has that got to do with anything?" her bewilderment deepened. "You should be used to this. Your own sister's a shuttle pilot too! All I'd be doing is the same kind of work she's trained for." "Athena's my sister! Not my wife to be!" Apollo waved his arm angrily. Serina had now reached a breaking point inside. She had expected Apollo to not be too enthusiastic initially. She had even expected some momentary displeasure with her for keeping the news of her training secret. But now, Apollo was going too far from her standpoint. "Well if that's what it comes down to, we can take care of that in an instant, can't we?" she then turned away from him and came within an inch of opening the door to the next compartment, but then stopped, keeping her head down and her arms folded. A few microns later, she felt Apollo's hand touching her shoulder. When she turned around, the anger was gone from his face, indicating that her words had made a sobering impact on him. "Serina," his voice was now gentle and tender. "I love you. Don't you understand that I just don't want anything to happen to you?" His fiancee bit her lip slightly, "Don't you think I feel the same way when it comes to you and your career, Apollo? You're a viper pilot who has to go off into combat on a micron's notice. But when I accepted your proposal, I was willing to let myself live with that fear for the rest of my life because I love you so much. Why isn't it easy for you to deal with the fact that I'm just going to have a lower risk job of being a shuttle pilot?" "Serina, don't you know the risks that are involved in that?" Apollo's tone was less argumentative this time, as though he realized inside that she'd made a telling point that was difficult to rebut. "We lost shuttle pilots at Carillon." "I know that," Serina nodded, "But if you'll recall, I ended up being in more danger as a mere civilian on the planet. And we ended up losing more civilians then we did shuttle pilots." Serina then took his hand and squeezed it tightly, "Apollo, we're living in a universe where no one is completely safe any longer. People from all walks of life have to train themselves to help this Fleet survive, or else they end up being no better than Sire Uri and all his cronies on the Rising Star who just want to waste themselves away in luxury. Can't you understand why I want to be among those who do something positive for this Fleet? As a shuttle pilot I can be the difference in saving lives when we have to transport goods and materials to the ships in the Fleet that badly need them. I can be part of the system that keeps us going until we find that planet Earth that Adama wants to lead us to. That's more meaningful to me than journalism ever could be again." Apollo lowered his head and let out a deflated sigh. He turned away from her and seemed to pace back in thought. Serina wondered if she had made an impact, or if Apollo was still desperately seeking for an excuse. When Apollo turned around to look at her again, he let out another uneasy sigh, but this time it seemed like he was beginning to accept the inevitable. If he truly loved Serina, he needed to be willing to understand her feelings on this matter. "So," he finally spoke, for the first time sounding an upbeat tone. "How did you rate in the program?" His tone immediately made Serina relax. "Captain Janus rated me at the top of fifteen cadets who enlisted at the same time." A smile finally formed at the corner of Apollo's mouth as he came up to her and took her in his arms, "I've always trusted Janus's judgment," he said. "So you'd better prove him right, because you're going to be married to a squadron commander." Serina relaxed in his embrace, grateful that it had all worked out after all. "Yes sir, my captain." And then, they met in a long passionate kiss. It went on for more than two centons and Apollo almost felt on the verge of making a suggestion that they escape to someplace more private when the sound of the unicom filled the air. "Attention. Captain Apollo and Captain Killian are to report to Commander Adama's quarters immediately." "Duty calls," Serina sighed as she released him. "Yeah," Apollo said, as the magnitude of what had happened to the pilots of Blue Squadron suddenly hit him again. "And you have no idea just how serious this meeting's going to be." "What is it?" she frowned with concern. "I'll fill you in later," he headed for the door then stopped to blow her a kiss, "Bye." "Bye," she returned it, wondering how serious a matter it could be that required the presence of both the Commanders of Blue and Red Squadron. Since he'd received Salik's bleak report, Adama had spent the last half centar organizing personnel files of all members of the Colonial Service with some kind of flight experience. After he'd reorganized the list, he'd made the announcement for Apollo and Killian to come down to his quarters. Now, as he waited for the two squadron commanders, he decided to spend a few more microns going through the Book of the Word again, hoping to find the passage he'd been looking for earlier. As the passages came up on the monitor on his desk, he stopped and leaned forward as he finally saw the one he'd been looking for. His eyes narrowed intensely as he studied the text. Finally, he decided to read it aloud. "After their home planet Kobol was known to be doomed, the twelve tribes set forth across a great void which had enveloped the surrounding environs of space, unable to find the reference points of the heavens that had once filled the Kobollian night sky. And then, by a miracle from the Lords, a bright shining star appeared from nowhere and guided them to safety. Leading them out of the darkness of the void, and back into the brightness of the star-filled heavens, from which the twelve tribes of Kobol were able to find their new homes." Next to the text was a crudely drawn star map next to some ancient writings, formed mostly from pictorial symbols than from a written language. He stared at the text and the illustration in rapt fascination until the sound of the chime interrupted his thoughts. "Enter." The door slid open and Apollo entered alongside Captain Killian. The commander of Red Squadron was still in a daze over the news of what had happened to Blue Squadron. He could only think of how fortunate it was that his firm order to Red Squadron not to crash the party had saved all of Red's pilots from the disease that had now struck down Blue Group. "Thank you for coming," Adama didn't get up from his desk. "We have important matters to discuss concerning our pilot strength." "Any news on whether the disease can be cured?" Apollo asked. "There's no progress on it for now," Adama grimly shook his head. "We have to face the sad fact that for who knows how long, Blue Squadron consists entirely of you and Starbuck." He turned to Killian, "Captain, could you please give me the status of your group's pilots?" "All of them in good condition, sir. No one from Red Squadron was ever near the party. I have forty-three men who are ready for duty whenever they're needed." "Which means we have forty-five experienced pilots available to defend the Fleet from potential Cylon attack." The commander paused. "I think the both of you realize that is an unacceptable level in terms of what we need to furnish adequate security for this Fleet. Should we ever run up against a single basestar's complement of fighters we'd be looking at a massacre. With Blue and Red Squadrons together, the odds would be two to one against us. Difficult, but acceptable given our superior flying skills. In a four to one deficit, we face risks that we should never have to undertake when the defense of 220 civilian ships is also part of the viper pilots duties." "So what you're saying Commander, is that we need to replenish our ranks as fast as we can without waiting for Blue Group to recover." The ex-Columbia pilot said. "Exactly," Adama nodded and handed over a small computer to Apollo, "I had Colonel Tigh and Omega draw up a roster of all members of the Colonial Service with some form of flight experience. Unfortunately, what it comes down to is a few old-time warriors with various disabilities, and our full complement of shuttle pilots." Apollo suddenly froze. "Shuttle pilots?" "Yes," Adama nodded. "We have no choice, Apollo. Every last shuttle pilot in this flight needs a crash course in training for viper duty. You and Killian are to not only get them flight ready, they're to be combat ready as quickly as possible." Apollo looked into his face, feeling a sensation of dread sickness fill his heart. "You can't be serious." "I'm deadly serious, Apollo. The shuttle pilots are younger, healthier and stand a better chance of adapting to viper training and these emergency conditions, than the old-time disabled pilots do. We have to concentrate on them as our best hope for now." "Father," Apollo found himself growing oblivious to Killian's presence that he slipped into informal language, "The viper is the most advanced flying machine ever designed by man. You don't just turn one over to a....shuttle pilot." "What in Hades has gotten into you, Apollo?" Killian suddenly spoke up, feeling both angry and bewildered by Apollo's reaction. "The commander's right, we have no choice. Unless maybe you want my group to handle an impossible task of defending this entire Fleet all by ourselves? You might as well just have us surrender to the Cylons without firing a shot if that's the case!" "I'm not saying that!" Apollo suddenly turned around and gestured angrily at Red Leader, "I'm just saying that to expect a group of shuttle pilots....." He then trailed off. "Yes?" Adama found his son's reaction puzzling as well. His son slowly exhaled, "Father, have you read the names of all of the shuttle pilots in our ranks?" The commander's eyebrows went up, and he took the computer back from Apollo. He scanned the bottom of the list and then froze when he saw the name of Serina on it. All the time, the shuttle pilots had just been a number to him and he hadn't bothered looking up specific names. "I'm sorry, Apollo," his voice dropped to a whisper. "I didn't know." "No," he nodded, "I guess you didn't. I didn't either until just a few centons ago." "Will someone tell me what's going on?" Killian angrily raised his voice. Adama snapped back to attention. "I apologize, Captain. It's a....personal matter that has Captain Apollo upset. But he understands clearly the situation as it is, and why we have no choice but to train these shuttle pilots for duty." he then looked his son in the eye, "Isn't that right, Captain Apollo?" Apollo's head was still lowered. He felt more anguish then he'd felt at any time in his life since the Holocaust. All he could think of was the prospect of seeing Serina suffer the same fate his mother and Zac had already suffered. Finally, he managed to nod. "That's right, Commander." He then straightened himself. "We'll get to work on training these pilots at dawn, and work a round-the-clock cycle with them." "Good," Adama nodded. "Killian, I want you and as many of your men that you can spare to assist both Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck in these training exercises. For the time being, divide your squadron in half by alternate sleep cycles." "Yes sir." Killian nodded, feeling better that the mystery as to Apollo's behavior had been cleared up slightly. "Sir, may I make one other suggestion?" "By all means." "How many shuttle pilots do we have for these training exercises?" Adama checked the computer again. "At least thirty who can be detached from duty for these training missions. We still need shuttle pilots to handle routine matters of inter-fleet transport so only those directly in the Service will be trained first." "Then commander, may I also recommend that you open up the training to all other members of the Colonial Service who might be interested in transferring to viper duty?" Killian offered. "I think that even those in Security or Maintenance might have some untapped flying skills that can be put to use." The commander nodded, "A good idea. I'll make an announcement to that effect that anyone in any Service branch is free to volunteer if they think they can handle the training. In the meantime, I suggest that both of you get some sleep and prepare yourselves for a long day tomorrow." "Yes sir," Killian nodded and then saluted. "By your leave?" "Dismissed." Red Leader headed for the door and then turned to see if Apollo would follow. When he saw that Blue Leader hadn't moved, he shrugged and left. An uneasy silence filled the air as Adama rose from behind his desk. "I'm sorry, Apollo," Adama said gently. "I know this won't be easy for you. But we've been left with no other choice on this matter." "Isn't there some way you could----" he started then stopped and shook his head as though he were ashamed of what he was about to say. "You were about to ask if there was some way I could keep Serina off this roster?" Adama decided to finish for him. "Transfer her to the non-Service section that needs to handle inter-Fleet transport?" He shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Apollo. If I were to ever show that kind of favoritism to a family member, as she nearly is, then it would only take a micron for the Council to rescind its edict of last sectar granting me sweeping powers under the Martial Law statute." "I know that," Apollo nodded, "I'm sorry, it's just that..." he tried to collect himself. "Father, I'm just scared of the idea of something happening to her." Adama put a hand on his shoulder, "Son," he said, "I live with that every centon of my life when it comes to you. I had to live with it when it came to Zac, and now I have to live with it with regard to Athena." Apollo looked up at him. "Yes," his father, "She's on the roster too." "Great," Apollo sighed, "That's just great. Why does it have to be our family that gets filled with these burdens?" "You're asking a question that doesn't have an easy answer, Apollo," his father said firmly, trying to summon the kind of parental advice that he tried not to use too often with his children now that they were grown up. "And in light of what all of the people in the Fleet have been through in the last sectar, it's the kind of question that really has no business being asked anymore. So the only advice I can give you, is that you use all the strength you have as a viper commander to be a good teacher to the ones you love, and that way there'll never be any doubt whatsoever of their ability to survive." Apollo knew there was no point discussing it any further. "I will," his voice was just a whisper. "Good night, Father." As soon as his son had gone, Adama returned to his chair and once again, felt the need to gaze at Ila's holopicture in the hopes of drawing some badly needed strength. And then he said a prayer to God asking that his son receive some too. When Apollo came out of Adama's quarters, he saw that Killian had chosen to linger in the corridor. "You need something, Killian?" "I think you and I should have a talk before we part company for the night," Red Leader said. "We should work out the logistics of how these training sessions are going to work and that way, tomorrow morning we can wake up and start with a plan of attack right away." "Okay," Apollo said with more than an air of resignation. "Starbuck and I will handle the first load of trainees from 0700 to 1600 in the Main Simulator room. If we really push the ones with the best aptitude hard, we might be able to have some of them in mock-up simulators by the end of the day." "How many viper mock-ups are there on the Galactica?" Killian asked as they resumed walking down the corridor. "Five." Red Leader stopped and frowned in disbelief. "Five? I thought battlestars were supposed to have at least ten of those aboard." "That was on the older Ricon class battlestars like the Columbia. The Galactica class ships have fewer mock-ups because they were never intended to take a major role in training exercises for student pilots." "Well that's just great," Killian said sourly as they resumed walking. "With only five active mockups at our service, that slows down our ability to get more trainees flight ready." "I think the Celestra has a couple of mockups to assist their repair efforts on vipers." Apollo said, "You might want to check that with Commander Kronus. If he has them, then maybe a couple of your men should handle some of the other trainees over there while Starbuck and I take care of the ones here on the Galactica." "Sounds reasonable." Red Leader nodded, "Assuming we go at this break-neck pace, how long do you realistically think it would take to get say, ten to fifteen pilots qualified for actual flight?" "I wouldn't want to make a guess at this point." "I think you'd better, Apollo," Killian warned, "We need to have a goal to shoot for." "Okay," Apollo sighed, "Let's say, within maybe a half sectan, those pilots with the highest flight aptitude ratings and who were at the highest levels of their shuttle training classes should get their first crack at actual flight. That's assuming we allow ourselves not a micron's rest during that time." "I'm up to that challenge," Killian said defiantly. "And maybe by then, that blasted Salik will have cured the rest of your boys and rendered this whole thing irrelevant." "I hope you're right," Apollo's tone grew quiet as the troubling thought of Serina flying a viper again filled his mind. Killian stopped and gave him a cautious look, "What was that personal matter the Commander was talking about?" Apollo wanted to tell him off, but then decided there was no point risking an ugly confrontation with Red Leader, "My fiancee is among those shuttle pilots." "Ah," Killian nodded in understanding, "In that case, I think it best that you handle whatever group she's in tomorrow. If you're bothered by her having to train for this, then the only way you can keep yourself at ease is to keep an eye on her and watch her skills up close." "I'll keep that in mind," Apollo said. "There's one other thing." "Yes?" Apollo took a breath, "It concerns the way you've been keeping Red Squadron's identity separate from the rest of us." "It's all a matter of morale, Apollo," Killian said as they kept moving, "My boys and I have flown together as a unit for more than two yahrens. Staying together is what makes us better flyers in the end." "I haven't any gripe with that," Apollo said, "But what I'm really getting at Killian, is the matter of your squadron's helmets." Red Leader stopped and glared at him. "What about them?" "It's been more than a sectar now, Killian. You and your men are part of the Galactica and now you have to help train new pilots to become part of the Galactica's infrastructure of pilots. I think it would be better for morale and the idea of teamsmanship if your squadron started wearing Galactica helmets." "Absolutely not," Killian's voice suddenly grew angry. "That point is not subject to discussion, Apollo. My men will continue to wear our Columbia helmets. We don't do that because of any feelings of disrespect for the Galactica, it's because those helmets mean something to us. They're the last tangible reminder in this universe of what we used to have, and ever since Commander Fairfax was killed they've come to mean a lot more to us." "I'm sure they mean a lot to you and your men, Killian, and I respect that," Apollo said patiently. "But times are rapidly changing for all of us, and when it comes to the matter of recruiting new pilots and training them, which is eventually going to require integrating them into your Squadron as well as mine over the long haul, if we're lucky enough to get Blue Squadron back, I really don't think it's a good idea for them to see your men wearing Columbia helmets all the time." "Why not?" Killian's sense of anger didn't abate, "Why should they care one way or the other what helmets we wear?" "Because it gives them the idea that there are cliques among the pilots and they might have second thoughts about becoming pilots if they think there's a chance they're going to get frozen out for not having some sort of status that others do." Apollo paused, "There's been a lot of that going on already between your squadron and mine, Killian. True, it actually helped in a perverse way because that meant that none of your guys were at the party, but it's something that should really come to an end if we're ever going to be a fully integrated unit of pilots. Because the only thing that can happen over the long run is bad blood and suspicion, and someday that could bite us all on the astrum in a combat situation when teamwork will be really essential." "Apollo," Killian dropped his voice to a whisper. "This subject is closed. My men keep their helmets and that's final. And I'll thank you not to question the professionalism of my squadron again, because it wasn't one of my men who was too obsessed with getting to a party that he didn't take a necessary precaution by checking into the Life Station when he should have." Red Leader's retort finally caused Apollo to snap. "Yeah, you guys are so professional that you like to rat to Security in your spare time about ambrosia!" "Oh, is that a fact?" Killian shot back, "Well it just so happens, Captain that I gave them orders to steer clear of your party, so don't blame me for the fact that I have just one man with a disciplinary problem!" "And don't ever blame one of my men for making a perfectly natural----" he then cut off as he realized the spectacle they were making of themselves over something entirely trivial. He saw that the same realization had come over Red Leader too. "Sorry," Apollo exhaled, "Let's forget that and start over." "Yeah," Killian nodded, "Let's. I guess...this has been too long a day for the both of us." "In every sense," Blue Leader admitted and then clasped Killian's hand in a ritualistic handshake that warriors shared, "Let's save our wrath for the trainees, not each other." "Agreed," Killian returned the strength of the clasp, "From this micron on, there's no squadron rivalry whatsoever. We're all in it together." After parting company with Killian on a friendly note, Apollo then returned to the Officers Quarters for Blue Squadron. When he entered the room, he let out a wince when he saw all the empty bunks. If anything, seeing all those empty bunks when they should have been filled was a more chilling sight then seeing them all in their support chambers in the Life Station. For Apollo, it would be a night where he would sleep poorly. Hoping that when he woke up, he'd have found that the entire day's events had been in his subconscious. Chapter Six Despite going through a largely sleepless night, Apollo found himself fully alert when he got out of bed and went with Starbuck down to the Flight Operations Center where the first wave of trainees would gather. If anything, sheer adrenaline and the desire to make sure every shuttle pilot was meticulously trained could easily overcome the normal desire for sleep. When they reached Operations, they saw a cluster of thirty-five people seated at the tables in the ready room. Killian and his squadron deputy, Lieutenant Taggs stood off to one side at the head of the room, while Apollo and Starbuck took their position on the opposite side. Blue Leader glanced at Red Leader, who motioned for him to begin. "Fellow warriors," Apollo began. "I think I don't need to waste any time rehashing the details of why all of you have been summoned here by Commander Adama. Suffice to say, all of you must prepare yourself for a level of training and discipline that most, if not any, of you ever expected to go through at any time in your life as a member of the Colonial Service. So all I can say to those of you who have volunteered for this training, if you aren't willing to put up with an eighteen centar day of crash training to get you up to flight status within a sectan, then you might as well get up and leave now." He paused for a moment to see if anyone would get up from their chairs. No one did, so he resumed. "This training begins immediately on the flight computer simulators in the next room. All of you who have been part of the shuttle program will immediately accompany me and Lieutenant Starbuck for that phase. Those of you who are part of the volunteer recruits, will remain with Captain Killian and Lieutenant Taggs here in the Operations Center for a preliminary lecture and introduction to basic flight equipment. If there are no questions at this time, we'll get started right away. Shuttle pilots, please follow me and Lieutenant Starbuck." Apollo saw more than twenty of the people in the room rise to their feet. He was struck immediately by the fact that Serina and Athena were not the only female shuttle pilots in the group. In fact, almost two-thirds of the shuttle pilots were female. I wonder if that makes things easier or harder, Apollo mused as he stood in the doorway that lead to the Main Simulator room adjacent to Flight Operations. He couldn't recall a time in his life when he'd seen so many female warriors as part of a viper training program. While it was not uncommon for there to be female recruits at the Academy, for the most part few ever bothered to go through the more advanced phases of viper training, thus accounting for the low number of female viper pilots in the ranks of the Colonial Fleet through the yahrens. When Athena passed him, she gave her brother a faint smile and a thumbs up. Serina was the last of the shuttle pilots to come by him, and she stopped to flash a warm smile at him. "I won't get another chance to say this all day, Apollo," she whispered, "I love you." Apollo smiled back and hoped no one close by had heard her remark. "Noted and logged, Corporal. Now get moving." "Yes sir!" she resisted the temptation to salute as she moved into the room. When Apollo entered the room, the fifteen women and five men had taken their seats in front of the various computer consoles spread across the room. Starbuck had gone to the head of the room next to a large master computer assembly. "Okay, let's go through roll call before we get started," Starbuck said as he held up a pocket computer board with the names of all shuttle pilots in the program. "Sound off when I get to your name. Lieutenant Dietra!" "Present!" an attractive dark-skinned woman spoke up. "Lieutenant Athena!" "Here," she raised her hand, trying hard not to let any emotion show. The one thing she was hoping would come out of this experience as a side benefit was a hope that Starbuck would finally start to take some notice of her again. "Corporal Serina!" Serina raised her arm high without giving a verbal response. "Corporal Brie!" "Present," this from the nervous voice of a small, willowy blonde woman. On the roll call went through eleven more women and four men. When it was over, Starbuck looked out and asked, "Anyone whose name I missed?" "Yeah," a curly haired man spoke up, "Mine." Starbuck's eyes narrowed in on the source and his expression suddenly went dubious. The last person he expected to see at that instant was a man he had despised for yahrens, Sergeant Ortega. The two had once been in the same freshman class at the Colonial Academy, and when Starbuck and his fellow cadets discovered that Ortega had been stealing cubits from their lockers to finance his gambling losses, they had sent a petition to the Academy Commandant that had resulted in Ortega's expulsion from the Colonial Academy, though he was still free to join the service as a regular enlistee. When Starbuck had first noticed Ortega among the survivors a sectar ago, it was the only time he found himself sorry to see a particular individual alive. "Sergeant Ortega, right?" he said calmly, "You're not on the roster. As a matter of fact, I don't believe you're part of the shuttle program." "I've got shuttle flight experience," Ortega protested. "More than a sectar's worth. That's more than most people here have...." "Ortega," Starbuck interrupted coldly as he silently motioned for help from Apollo, "If you're not an active shuttle pilot, you've got no business being here. Go back to Flight Ops with the rest of the volunteers." "That's so typical of you, isn't it Starbuck?" Ortega angrily got to his feet. "After all these yahrens, you still want to----" "That's enough, Sergeant!" Apollo suddenly barked as he came up to Starbuck and glanced down at the computer chart. He then glared at the curly-haired sergeant. "What's your designation, Sergeant?" "I've got shuttle experience!" "I said your current designation!" Apollo repeated angrily. Finally, Ortega grudgingly realized he was beaten, "Colonial Security." "Then you do what the Lieutenant told you to do, and get back into Flight Ops with Captain Killian's group, and do it now!" Ortega threw them both a dirty look and then shook his head in disgust, muttering only a half-hearted "Yes sir," as he slunk out of the room. An uneasy silence filled the room as all of the remaining pilots had awkward expressions on their faces. "All right then, let's move on," Apollo said, trying to take charge of the situation again. "We're going to begin with a computer flight simulation exercise, to get you accustomed to handling the control stick smoothly. As you know, this kind of flight exercise is reduced to the format of what the recreation minded would call a computer game, complete with high scoring and all based on maneuver execution and number of enemy ships destroyed. But do not treat this as a game at any time. You're working this exercise for a serious purpose. That means if you have trouble initially, don't get frustrated. Just let your skills come naturally to you. You have two centars to run these exercises, and those who have demonstrated the highest proficiency after that time will move on to the next phase, which is working the same simulator program in a full viper mock-up." Apollo checked his chronometer. "The exercises begin....now!" Starbuck flicked several switched on the master computer bank, and then on the individual consoles of each cadet, a flight simulation mission came up, with a joystick resembling the viper control stick complete with the same buttons controlling their movements. It took only an instant for all of the trainees to take on expressions of intense concentration. Apollo leaned over to Starbuck, "I'm going to let Killian know that Ortega might be a problem for him. Take over for now." "You ought to have him kicked out of this right away," Starbuck muttered with contempt. "I haven't the authority. The program's open to anyone who wants to volunteer and only if they flunk the training can we dismiss them. We're so strapped for pilots as it is, that means we have to take guys with bad attitudes like him, because that means we still end up with one more pilot defending the Fleet." "Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel," Starbuck grunted. "All right, leave things to me for now." "Thanks," Apollo patted him on the shoulder and left. As soon as Apollo was gone, Starbuck idly moved up and down the rows of trainees, glancing down to see how they were doing. He noticed that Athena's expression was slightly frustrated. "Take it easy, Athena. The first time's never a smooth one." "Sorry," she gritted her teeth. "It feels like no matter what I do with the stick it doesn't go where I want it to go." "Hey remember, you're flying a viper." he said with the gentle firmness of an instructor who tried not to be intimidating. "Just thinking what you want it to do is enough to make it happen. All you need to do is stay loose and she'll respond like a dream." Athena nodded and allowed her body to relax slightly as she got set for another round. As Starbuck continued to make his way around the room, the sting of the encounter with Ortega still left a bad taste in his mouth. He only hoped he never had to be in the position of bailing him out in the middle of a combat situation. In Alpha Landing Bay, one section had been completely walled off by a plastic shield, marking the zone where Boomer and Jolly's vipers had been brought for maintenance after their return to the Galactica. Now, four suited Life Station personnel, including Salik, were carefully inspecting the cockpits of both ships, hoping that they might learn some answers they had yet been able to detect so far. "What are the contamination levels in Jolly's cockpit?" Salik asked from his vantage point on the tarmac. Nestor climbed out of the viper and dropped down next to the Chief Medical Officer, "There's no mistaking it, sir. The readings are much lower than they were yesterday." "You're sure of that?" "Yes sir, no question. And the same indicators check in Boomer's cockpit." Salik put his gloved hand to his chin, shielded by the hood of his decon suit as he tried to contemplate this information. "Boomer didn't come into any contact with anyone between here and the Officers Club. Lords only know how many people passed through that area later on, but no other cases of the disease have broken out. And the readings in the Officers Club are also down from what they were yesterday after we removed everyone from there." "So what does it mean, sir?" Salik sighed, "That somehow, this virus only seems to thrive when it's able to plant itself in a living host and be transmitted to another living host. But the virus itself cannot survive away from its natural environment without a host organism to take hold in. If it could, then by this point now the disease should have spread through the entire ventilation system of the Galactica theoretically." "So in other words, this whole area and the Officers Club should be safe now." "It's possible," Salik nodded, "But I'm not lifting the quarantine on this section just yet, when it's only a theory. But if it's true, then that means there are properties within the virus that cause it to break down. Maybe because the environment of the Galactica is different from that of where it came from, it can't survive indefinitely." He looked back at the two vipers and gritted his teeth. "I should have taken contaminated samples yesterday and kept them under analysis overnight. We might have been able to see how it breaks down. But at the rate these levels have dropped already, there's no way we could get an accurate reading on what causes it." "Should we draw a sample from inside the bloodstream of one of the men and maybe subject it to tests that way?" "I guess we have to," Salik sighed, "It won't be as good a test as using a sample that hasn't entered someone, but it will have to do for now." The two entered the partition separating the rest of the Landing Bay from the quarantined zone, discarded their suits and left for the turbolift. Two centars passed, and both Apollo and Starbuck had found themselves saying little throughout the entire time as they both silently paced up and down the room, stopping occasionally to peer over and see how an individual trainee was doing. Both of them found that it was better if they say nothing at this point and just let the trainees spread their wings and grow comfortable with the simulation. That way they could get a more accurate gauge of which of the trainees possessed the more natural skills that would mean immediate promotion to the next level. Finally, the chime went off indicating the end of the first session. Apollo and Starbuck both went back to the head of the room and consulted the readings on the master computer, which recorded the scores of each exercise for each trainee. "Okay," Starbuck said, "The following trainees have posted the top five scores on the simulation exercises and will move on to the viper mock-ups. Lieutenant Dietra. Lieutenant Athena. Corporal Brie. Sergeant Hanlon." He then flashed a slightly uneasy glance at Apollo before reading off the last name, "Corporal Serina." Apollo didn't change his expression. He was more surprised by the fact that four of the top five scores came entirely from among the female shuttle pilots, then he was that Serina was among them. It was enough to make him realize that he needed to do some rethinking about his general attitude on the ability of female trainees to handle the intense levels of viper training. If they all made it through this next, more difficult phase, then a lot more than just rethinking would be needed. "Okay then," Apollo said, "One little detail before we proceed. All of you remembered to put on pressure suits under your uniforms before coming down here?" The five candidates, who had all stood up once their names had been read, nodded. "Then in that case, I can dispense with the lecture about what role they play and all that. Those of you who aren't moving on just yet will continue to work the simulator exercises for another two centars, and then there'll be a fifteen centon break. At that point, the next leading candidates will likely move on to the mock-ups, depending on the status of the first group." He turned to Starbuck, "Lieutenant, continue to monitor their progress here." "Yes sir," Starbuck nodded, putting more formality into his tone then at any other time in all the yahrens he'd known Apollo. As Apollo saw both Athena and Serina make their way toward the door that lead to the next room where the mock-ups were kept, he finally felt a delayed reaction to their moving on to this level kick in. Not knowing to be proud of them for showing more natural instinct than any of the others in the room, or to be frightened by the thought that both of them were now one step closer to putting their lives completely at risk. "Adama?" Adama looked up from his computer screen, where he'd been again consulting the passages from the Book of the Word that had caught his attention the previous day. He was slightly surprised to see the face of Sire Anton, former aide to the late President Adar, and a member of the Council of the Twelve. "Sire Anton," Adama rose from his chair. "What brings you here?" "Sort of an unofficial mission on my part for the Council, Adama," Anton said as he shook hands with the commander and sat down. "I'm sure you know that once word got out about what happened to half the Fleet's pilots, some of our colleagues were...how shall I put it, in a state of considerable uneasiness." "I can understand that," Adama nodded, "By far, this is the greatest test we've faced since our escape from Carillon. And whether we can overcome it....well, unofficially Sire Anton, I can only tell you and the rest of the Council that it remains to be seen. We should be grateful at least for the fact that we don't face the immediate danger of nearby Cylon presence." "Quite true," Anton conceded, "For now, I can assure you that you have our full and unified support with regard to whatever measures you deem necessary. It would only take an extraordinary failure of leadership on your part that would make some of the....less cooperative members suggest a reexamination of our edict of last sectar extending new powers to you." Adama smiled without mirth, "Sire Anton, if I were ever to engage in an extraordinary failure of leadership, I doubt very much that the Council would be able to dissect the aftermath." "Precisely," Anton nodded, "I'll inform them that you have the situation quite well at hand, and that there is no need to distract you at this time with the nuisance of a formal session." "Thank you, Sire," Adama was pleasantly surprised to see the genial Anton showing such unqualified support for him. Only a sectar ago, Anton had been among those who had willingly gone along with Sire Uri's dangerous scheme of settling on Carillon and proposing to destroy all their weapons. Now, he almost seemed to be doing all he could to compensate for what he regarded as an indefensible error on his part. "I appreciate your courtesy." "It's my pleasure, Adama," Anton bowed slightly, "My blessings and prayers be with you during this crisis." As soon as the Council member had departed, Adama sat down and let out a sigh of relief that at least for now, events had not conspired to stick him with a political headache. All things considered though, it was a very small favor to be grateful for. He activated the vid-com that connected him to the Life Station, "Dr. Salik, please?" "Dr. Salik is detained, Commander," he saw the face of Cassiopeia, "He's running some new tests on the virus strain." "Is he closer to a breakthrough?" Adama hunched forward, trying not to fight back any feelings of false optimism. "I'm not in a position to answer that, Commander. I'm sure he'll contact you personally when he's done with these latest tests." "Please tell him to do that. Thank you." Adama switched the vid-com off and stretched himself out, staring at the ceiling totally lost in thought. After a centon, he glanced back down at his desk, where the holopicture of Ila smiled brightly at him. It was the perfect image of how he had last seen her. Her blonde hair with the faintest streaks of silver at the sides lending her a more regal bearing. Her face, still totally unlined and retaining every aspect of her youthful beauty. Her blue eyes, betraying just the slightest hint of the loneliness she'd been forced to endure in life ever since Zac, the last of her three children had gone off to the Academy and left her alone for the most part. Adama sighed with an air of sadness he had no intention of ever letting a single living soul see. Even though he was long past the point where he could feel tears over his wife's death, it was still hard for him to accept the feeling of emptiness her death had left in his life. Even though he had been separated from her so often, he had always treasured the fact that so often he'd been able to write letters to her from aboard whatever ship he happened to be stationed on, and have them sent by Courier from the nearest liberty port his ship would put into. Always, those letters were his outlet for opening up during times of difficulty, and without them he'd always felt that he'd never have been able to remain a committed warrior all his life. Right now, was one of those occasions where if he couldn't talk to Ila directly, he could at least write her a letter and reveal everything to her about what was going through his mind, and share things he'd never have revealed to another living soul. And eventually, after many sectans, a reply would always be waiting for him at the next planet his ship would put into. Always filled with the advice, reassurance and love that he'd needed to sustain him from afar. There were isolated centons when he almost felt the need to take up his writing implements and write a letter to her anyway, as though she were still alive. To at least put down on paper the things he would have said to her and admitted, and then perhaps reasoned what her response might be. Always, he had pushed away the thought as a sign of wallowing in the past too much, and refusing to accept reality. But now though, he wondered if in light of the extraordinary difficulties he now faced; of seeing half the Fleet's defense force rendered useless by a disease, of dealing with an even larger question of whether he had stumbled on to a clue that offered a key to the discovery of where he hoped to lead the Fleet to safety, or whether he was about to lead them into a greater danger they could have ever envisioned, and finally the concern over seeing a new member of his family be subjected to the risks of taking part in the dangerous life of a viper pilot. Ila, he silently cried out. I wish I could just talk to you once more. To lend some closure to everything. But that was one prayer he knew the Lords would never grant to him. If he wanted to see and talk to his wife again, then he would have to see his life come to an end. And that was something he had no intention of letting happen for as many yahrens as it could possibly be. He cast an idle glance at the writing implements on his desk, still wondering if he should just write a letter as a form of catharsis, and then cast another eye back on his computer screen where the charts from the Book of the Word still stared back at him. "Commander?" He looked back at his vid-com and saw that a concerned Tigh had contacted him from the Bridge. "Yes, Colonel?" "Commander, long range scans are beginning to pick up the void Apollo and Starbuck told us about yesterday," he said, "Even from this far out, it's giving us readings I don't like. I think it would be advisable to alter our course so that we skirt around its perimeter." Adama shook his head, "Negative, Colonel. Maintain heading for now." Tigh was still taken aback slightly by how the Commander seemed so adamant on this point. But for now, he had no other suggestions to offer, so he merely nodded, "Yes sir." As soon as the executive officer's face disappeared from the screen, Adama drew himself up, and with firm resolution, knowing that he needed to get what he was feeling out of his system, he picked up the implements and began to write. "....My dearest Ila...." "No, no!" Apollo snapped as he came up to the viper mock-up where Corporal Brie was strapped in, running a simulation program that utilized video images to recreate the environment of a combat mission. "Tail down before you use reverse thruster to shake off a pursuing Cylon. You don't do that and you're going to collide with him while you're moving backwards." "Uh...sorry, Captain," the blonde trainee sounded slightly rattled. "That's....back on the stick before reverse thruster, right?" "Right," the captain nodded, his voice calmer. For two centars now, he'd been monitoring all five of the trainees who were now in the mock-ups, and he could begin to feel the long morning already taking its toll on him. "Remember, your comp scan provides all the data you need on where the pursuing Cylon is and what your bearing is. Don't waste time looking behind for a visual fix all the time in a situation like that." She nodded and pressed the button that would restart the simulation exercise. Around Brie's mock-up, video images of stars moving about filled her field of vision as it did for the others. Apollo let out a weary sigh and went over to the mock-up where Serina was strapped in. At that instant, her simulator was moving up and down and the video images around her depicted an intense fight with multiple Cylon fighters, with more than one viper flying across her field of vision as well. Immediately, Apollo was impressed by the fact that Serina was on a more difficult simulator exercise since the next phase involved having to handle uncoordinated combat conditions, as opposed to the first level which just involved simulating maneuvers of single ship-to-ship combat. He saw the showers of explosions erupt on the screens surrounding Serina's mock-up and then the images shut off. Serina popped open her cockpit and looked down at her fiancee with a satisfied smile. "Completed level three test, Captain," she didn't bother hiding the pride she felt. Apollo shook his head in amazement, "If you're done with level three Corporal, that means you've earned the right to take the next centar off and free this mock-up for someone from the next group." "Very well," she removed her helmet and climbed out of the mock-up. "But the way I've been going, I'd just as soon try level four now." "No one's doing level four today," he said, "That involves simulating all out attack conditions on the Fleet and having to chase Cylons down while flying through the laser turret crossfire from the Galactica. Today, we're just concerned with getting as many people as we can up to level three on the simulator." "Probably sound thinking," she admitted, "So after my centar break, I just come back for more refinement on the lower levels?" "Yeah, that's it." Apollo nodded. "And a couple of the Red Squadron boys will arrange a tour of the Celestra so you can get a handle on the operations there and what they do in case your viper ever needs serious maintenance." A bright flash to one side in front of a mock-up caught Apollo's attention, and he walked over to where Sergeant Hanlon, the lone male among the four trainees, was rubbing his eyes after they'd been blinded briefly. "What happened?" he asked. "I don't get it," Hanlon blinked several more times. "I was lined up behind him and he pulled this slow reverse move on me." "Always peel off to your starboard flank the instant you see him start to move backwards on you." Apollo said with an air of impatience. "Remember, they don't react to the unexpected. Their minds aren't trained to think of a ship peeling off to counter a straight line reverse. Give it another run through and try again." "Yes sir," Hanlon sighed, wondering if he was going to be able to withstand all the onslaughts that were still to come. When Apollo moved away from the mock-up, he saw that Starbuck had entered the room. The blonde lieutenant had an air of concern on his face. "I have two trainees who I think should have a crack at the mock-ups now," he said, "I take it a couple of them are free now?" "Serina's done for now," Apollo said. "And..." he then moved over and glanced at the master computer console. "Lieutenant Dietra should probably be out in a centon or two." "Okay," Starbuck said, then added carefully, "Want me to take over here for now? You look like you could use a centar off." "I'm fine," Apollo waved his hand. "I just----" he then stopped and went back over to Hanlon's mock-up as he saw another flash, "Peel off to starboard flank, blast it! Starboard! Now try it again!" He then moved back to where Starbuck was standing before the nervous Hanlon could mumble anything in reply. The lieutenant's expression had grown more concern. "Apollo," he said gently, "I'm serious. You get out of here for a centar and let me take over. You're not going to boost their confidence like that. Let them see me and my sunny disposition instead." "Sunny dispositions aren't what's going to get them combat ready," Apollo said, "I..." he then caught Serina standing by the compartment doorway out of the corner of his eye, and her expression immediately had a sobering effect on him. "Sorry, you're right. I think this is all starting to get to me in every sense. You take over for now." "Glad you see it my way," Starbuck patted his friend's shoulder as he stuck an unlit fumarello in his mouth and went over to the mock-up where Athena was. Apollo let out a slow exhale as he came back over to his fiancee. "Sorry, it's been a long day for me." "Let's talk outside," Serina said as she led him out. Once they were in the corridor, she finally spoke up. "I have to ask you something. Are you happy or disappointed that I've already made it this far?" "Serina, please," Apollo protested, "I haven't got time to worry about you. I'm more concerned with seeing us get our fighter strength back to an acceptable level." "I'm sure you are, Apollo," she folded her arms. "But I have to know this. I want us to be completely honest with each other. Would you feel easier if I'd been struggling up to this point and been on the verge of getting flunked out?" He stopped and looked her in the eye, "Serina," he said, "Right now, you're showing a lot of natural talent for someone who never flew any kind of ship until two sectans ago. That's an accomplishment you should be proud of, and I'm not going to say or do anything that would take that pride away from you." He put his hands on her shoulders, "I love you, Serina. And I want you to be happy spreading your wings in what you think you're best at. That's never going to change for as long as we're together." Serina relaxed and smiled. "Are we off-duty for now, my captain?" She asked slyly. He smiled back, "We are." Their arms went around each other and they shared a brief, passionate kiss on the lips. When they let go of each other, Apollo seemed more at ease than he'd been a centon before. "Starbuck was right. I needed to get away from there for a centar." He sighed, "I'm going to head down to the Life Station. I need to see if there's been any change." "I hope there has," Serina said, "Much as I like the feel of a viper mock-up, I want to see all of them recover first." Salik had spent nearly a centar since his return from the landing bay hunched over a lab table with his right eye peering through an ultra magnifier. Looking for the slightest sign of change that would give him the answer he was now desperately hoping to find. Finally, after seeing nothing, he got up and let out a grunt of exasperation. "No change," he muttered. "Absolutely no change at all. The virus still feeds off the cells of the blood sample even in this state. This is absolutely worthless in terms of recreating how the virus broke down in the viper cockpits and the Officers Club." "We'd literally need a fresh zone of contamination then," Nestor noted. Salik looked up at the med-tech, his hand on his chin, "What's that you said?" "I said, we'd literally need a fresh sample of the virus that had been brought back and exposed to conditions aboard the Galactica to recreate what happened." Salik rubbed his chin in thought, his eyebrows narrowing as a new idea formed in his mind. "Nestor," he got to his feet and patted him on the shoulder, "I think you've finally given me the answer." Adama had spent a centar writing his letter to Ila that no one but himself would ever see. When he was finished, he found that he couldn't avoid the old habit of placing it in a container and sealing it, just as he'd always done so many times over the yahrens. And then finally, writing in bold print on the front of the container, her name and their address on Caprica. He looked down at the sealed letter and let out a sigh of relief. Writing the letter had made him feel much better. Now, it was a matter of hoping that time would give him the kind of insight that he knew Ila would have been able to give him had she still been here and been able to respond to the things he'd written. "Commander?" he heard Tigh's voice from the video-com. "Yes, Colonel?" Adama said as he put the letter down on his desk and answered the video-com. "Commander, I must request that you come to the Bridge immediately. I think you need to see specifically what kind of readings that void is giving us." "I'll be there in a centon," Adama switched the video-com off. Before heading to the door, he picked up the sealed letter and looked at it thoughtfully, wondering what he should do with it now. Not comfortable with the thought that he should dispose of it right away, he stuck it in his uniform pocket, as though having it close to him might be able to give him some form of symbolic strength. When Apollo reached the Life Station, he felt a sense of great helplessness go through him when he saw all the pilots of Blue Squadron lined up one-by-one in support chambers. All of them had now been placed in cryofreeze and to Apollo, it almost conveyed the hideous illusion that they were dead already. He walked up to Boomer's chamber and looked down at the comatose form of the one man in Blue Squadron he was closest to other than Starbuck. He knew that from a technical standpoint, Boomer's error in judgment carried the risk of disciplinary action once he returned to duty. But as far as Apollo was concerned, he was going to do all he could to make certain the technical letter of the military code wasn't enforced on this occasion. "Can I do something for you, Captain?" Apollo looked up from the chamber and saw Cassiopeia approaching him. He had not gotten much chance to see her since the Carillon experience, when he and Starbuck had rescued her from the Ovions with centons to spare. The first thing that struck Apollo was how different Cassiopeia seemed now that she was wearing a med-tech's uniform instead of the provocative gown of a socialator. She seemed so at ease in her surroundings that no one would ever have guessed that she had once been a socialator. He'd already heard some idle remarks from Athena about how Starbuck had been taking a good deal of interest in Cassiopeia over the last sectar, so much so that it had put a considerable strain on the relationship Athena and Starbuck had once shared. If that was so, then the one thing Apollo had to concede was that whatever attraction Starbuck continued to feel for Cassiopeia had to be more than just physical. If it had been, he couldn't have envisioned Starbuck continuing the relationship after she'd given up her former profession. "Well, no. Not really." Apollo said, and then amended himself, "That is, has there been any change?" "I'm afraid not, Captain." She shook her head. "Dr. Salik has formed some theories about whether the virus breaks down when its not inside a host organism, but nothing that can be of any help just yet." "I see," Apollo nodded and looked back down at Boomer. "Are they....feeling any pain right now?" "They shouldn't. Cryofreeze is quite efficient. They aren't aware of anything right now." "I guess that's the only thing to be grateful for at this point," Apollo sighed, "That even if the worst happens..." "The worst isn't going to happen, Captain," Cassiopeia interrupted sharply. "We're going to find the answer and we're going to cure them all." Apollo smiled thinly at her, "I appreciate the optimism, Cassiopeia." "If we weren't optimists in this profession, we'd never bother trying to treat anyone." "I guess not," the captain admitted. "I'll let you and the team here keep working on that. Thanks." As Apollo left the Life Station and prepared to return to the mock-up room, he suddenly realized that the way Cassiopeia had spoken, exuding a kind of determined optimism in the face of some grave odds, was almost exactly the kind of thing Starbuck might have said. Maybe they have a lot more in common than I realized, Apollo thought. And if that were true, he almost wondered if in Cassiopeia there was a chance Starbuck had found someone who might actually be even more compatible for him than Athena was. Whatever the case, that was certainly not an insight he had any intention of sharing with anyone, let alone his sister at anytime soon. Adama arrived on the Bridge and noticed right away that Tigh seemed more on-edge than he usually was. "Commander," Tigh pointed to the monitor, "These are the scan readings we've been able to take from the void. We're twenty four centars out from it at this point, based on our current speed." Adama seated himself in front of the monitor and looked at the readings. They were enough to make the most hardened of warriors feel uneasy. But as he rubbed the pocket of his uniform and felt the letter inside, he knew immediately that the one thing Ila would have told him was to not be dissuaded from something he felt he was right about. "Inform the captains of the other ships in the Fleet to close ranks to a distance of no more than twenty microns spacing." Tigh frowned, "Adama, that would indicate you're still serious about taking the Fleet into that." "For now, that is my decision," Adama said, "We can count on the fact that should we enter the void, we will have been given some shelter from any pursuing Cylon force." "But Adama," Tigh pointed at the monitor. "You can see for yourself. This void has all the appearances of being infinite." "Not infinite, Colonel. Just beyond our scanner's ability to probe the other side." Adama wondered if at this point, he should reveal to Tigh the real reason why the void intrigued him. It would certainly clear up some of the frustration the executive officer was now feeling at this point over Adama's decision. But he also knew that Tigh was not the right man to broach the subject with at this point. Tigh had been a religious skeptic all his life, and that meant that he couldn't possibly begin to understand Adama's motives. Not yet at least. Not until they were in the void, when hopefully the answer Adama was looking for would reveal itself. "Commander?" Adama and Tigh turned around and saw that Salik had arrived. "Doctor, what brings you here?" Adama felt a faint edge of hope. "Have you discovered a cure?" "I haven't discovered a cure, Commander," Salik said carefully, "But I have found one avenue of hope that could lead to a cure." Adama leaned back in his chair, "Go on." "It comes down to the fact that the virus has properties that cause it to break down outside its natural environment if there's no living organism like a human being for it to take host in. That accounts for why the contamination readings in the Officers Club and in the cockpits of those vipers that brought it here have now dropped." "And theoretically, the same thing should happen inside over time to a victim of the virus?" Salik drew himself up, "I think there's a connection, Commander. But right now, the problem is that I need a fresh sample of the virus to analyze in the Galactica's environment to understand why it breaks down. Without that kind of analysis, I can't begin to explore a potential avenue for finding a cure for the men." "So what are you saying, Doctor?" Adama raised an eyebrow. The Chief Medical Officer decided to plunge head on in, "Commander, to get a fresh sample, I need to take a med-tech team back to the source of the virus. Seal a sample in a container, and subject it to full lab conditions aboard here." "Wait a centon," Adama held up a hand. "You're saying you want to go back to the asteroid where Boomer and Jolly landed?" "Yes sir, that's exactly what I'm saying." "Doctor, that's out of the question," Tigh cut in. "That asteroid is more than a parsec behind us, and even if it weren't so far off our path now, it also has a Cylon sentinel post. You wouldn't have a chance without proper viper escort, and right now that's a luxury we can't afford to give you, in light of what's happened to Blue Squadron." "I'm aware of that, Colonel," Salik was almost defiant. "But my team is willing to take the risk of taking a shuttle and getting in there without being detected." "Absolutely not," Adama said firmly, indicating it was not a subject for debate. "Given the distance between the Fleet and that asteroid, were you to go in without escort, you still run the chance of the Cylons being able to track your progress all the way back to us, even if by some miracle you were able to get out safely. Going in there without proper escort would only amount to suicide." "Very well, Commander," Salik responded with equal firmness, "But I must let you understand the severity of this situation. I could continue to spend the next two sectans trying to find another avenue of attack in terms of figuring out how that virus works, and what can kill it. But I may not end up finding the answer before cryofreeze becomes useless and all of those men die. Right now, I do have an avenue of hope to pursue, and it could well be the only one left. But only if you let me and a team go back to that asteroid and get a fresh sample in its natural environment." He paused, "In short, Commander. Going back there is the only realistic hope Blue Squadron has for surviving." "As far as you can determine." Adama noted. "Commander, I do not believe that you should be gambling with their lives based only on the hope that I can find another avenue to explore without going back to that asteroid." Salik found his patience wearing thin, and he didn't care if he ended up committing insubordination before it was all over. The commander was silent for a long centon, feeling the terrible weight of another difficult decision coming over him. He got to his feet and for the next half centon, paced idly in front of Salik and Tigh, who were both staring at him intently, waiting for him to speak. Adama ran his hand over his uniform pocket, where he could feel the letter inside. He then drew himself up to his full bearing. "Doctor," he said firmly, "Get your team ready. Within the next few centars, they'll be underway." "Thank you, sir," Salik smiled faintly in satisfaction and he quickly left the Bridge. "Commander?" Tigh came up to him, "If you're approving the mission, then how----" "They'll have fighter escort. Of that, there's no question. It's only a matter of who is to provide them with escort." He took a breath. "Tell Captain Apollo and Captain Killian to report to the Bridge immediately. "There, you see Hanlon?" Starbuck grinned, "Nothing to it. Four Cylon fighters atomized in a space of two centons." The male trainee leaned his head back against the cockpit seat in relief. "Thanks. I almost wondered if I was going to stay stuck on level two all afternoon." The blonde lieutenant patted him on the shoulder and moved over to the simulator of Sergeant Jameson, another male shuttle pilot from the second group that had entered the mock-ups. He saw that Jameson was still working his way through level one, but so far without too much difficulty. He decided to move elsewhere. At the end of the room, Athena was gritting her teeth, looking slightly uptight as a simulated shower of sparks went up around her mock-up. "Okay Athena," Starbuck said gently, deciding that now was the perfect time to let his trademark charm achieve a different, practical kind of result with Athena. "Take it easy and let's try it again." "Maybe the fifth time on this will be the charm." she grunted. "Tell you what," Starbuck reached over to the computer that controlled her simulation exercise and flicked several switches. He then grabbed a communications headset and put it on. "What's say this time, we work together. I'll communicate with you as you run the simulation in real time, and this'll give you a chance to coordinate with someone live and in the flesh instead of those fake voices on the simulator tape. Besides," he grinned at her, "I'm better company than those artificial voices, aren't I?" Immediately, Athena relaxed slightly and she smiled back. "I guess so." "Okay, here we go." Starbuck activated the level three exercise. "We're wingmates headed in and our scanners picking up three Cylons ahead of us. Where does you scanner show them?" "Sector four, delta quadrant," Athena replied. "Okay, I'm staying ahead of you, two points to port. Range, ten microns and closing." "Activating attack computer," Athena's voice was now more disciplined and had the professional edge expected of any viper pilot. "Five microns." "Okay. Stick right on my tail, Athena. I've got them lined up." "Right behind you, Starbuck," Athena replied as she could see the filmed image of another viper off to her left, slightly ahead of her, and two Cylon fighters coming into visual range. Starbuck decided now was the time to spring the unexpected on her that he'd programmed in, "Frack, my laser pump's jammed! You'll have to take both of them!" He raised his voice with all the mock dramatic effect he could summon. Athena was slightly rattled at first, but kept her eyes locked on the attack computer which now showed one Cylon fighter blinking. She pressed the button and opened fire. A simulated explosion went up. Without waiting to hear anything else, she refocused herself quickly on the second fighter and opened fire again. Another explosion went up, and Athena felt herself break into a satisfied grin. "I got them both!" "That's right, Athena," Starbuck said cheerily, "You got them both. But there's just one little problem." "What?" she frowned. "Take a look at your scanner." She looked down. "I don't see anything." "That's right. But you should be seeing my viper too, remember?" He then shut off the simulator and came over to her, "You see, not only did you get the Cylons, you got me too." Athena looked up at him in bewilderment, "How'd I do that?" "After you blasted the second Cylon, you were so happy, you moved across my tail with your lasers still firing. So that means I'm dead." he grinned. She leaned back and shook her head, half disappointed that she'd bobbled one part of the exercise, but also wondering if there wasn't a bit of metaphorical justice in that, in light of the strained relations they'd gone through since the Holocaust. "Sorry," she wished she could think of a better comment. Preferably a witticism to parry his remarks. "You mean that?" Starbuck's grin hadn't faded. He reached over and flicked the switches. "Okay, try it without me again. I need to check up on the others." As soon as he was done, he moved over and saw that Apollo had returned. The captain seemed more relaxed then he'd been earlier. "How are they doing?" Apollo asked. "Pretty good." Starbuck said. "Dietra's finished level three and is done for today. Hanlon, Brie and Athena are all still working on level three but doing okay, all things considered." "And the next group?" Starbuck glanced over at the master computer, "Sergeant Jameson and Sergeant Mackin, both on level two now." "So all seven who've gotten into a mock-up are past level one," Apollo noted, "Not bad for the first day." "A little better than I would have expected," Starbuck admitted. "Although when I worked together with Athena on a level three exercise, she ended up shooting me by accident." "You sure it was an accident?" Apollo gave the lieutenant a friendly nudge. "Any word from Killian on how he's handling the volunteers?" "He just brought a few of them into the computer simulation room about ten centons ago. There's a chance the most naturally talented non-flyers in our ranks could be getting their first crack at level one in here before the cycle ends." "Attention!" the voice of Rigel on the Galactica's unicom filled the room. "Captain Apollo and Captain Killian, report to the Bridge immediately." "Well, guess you'll have to keep at it here for a bit longer," Apollo sighed and then gave him a crooked smile, "And if you run another exercise with Athena, try not to get killed again, will you?" "Me? Try to get killed?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow. "You ought to know me better than that. Survival's my real given name." "But of course," Apollo said with mock solemnity as he exited the room again. Blue and Red Leaders both arrived on the Bridge at the same time. Apollo noticed that Killian seemed even more spent than he was, from the long day. He wondered if the natural exasperation one might have expected to feel with a lesser qualified group, in contrast to the more experienced shuttle pilots, might have had something to do with that. "Thank you for coming," Adama rose from his command chair. "Could you both give me a full report on the status of the trainees and recruits?" "Captain Apollo's group is the one that's furthest along, sir," Killian motioned to Blue Leader, "He's handling the shuttle pilots." "I see," Adama nodded, "Apollo, how would you rank their skills after one full day of training?" Apollo folded his arms, "Pretty good, considering that most of them probably didn't get closer to a viper than at an Armament Day display until today." Adama chuckled, "A nice way of putting things, but could you give it to me in more specific terms of how much they've accomplished today?" "We have seven trainees who are past level one on the mock-ups." Apollo said, "Two of them have completed level three altogether." "Seven," Adama rubbed his chin. "That is impressive for one day. Much more than I would have expected." He paused and decided to come to the heart of the matter. "There's another reason why I've summoned you both. Dr. Salik wants to send a medical team back to the asteroid where Boomer and Jolly contracted the virus. He thinks it's the only way to find the root cause of how it works, and the only way to find a cure." Apollo and Killian both frowned. "Commander, that's liable to be a one-way mission." Red Leader said. "There's a Cylon listening post there." "Yes," Adama nodded, "A listening post, not a fully armed outpost, so that means they would have a not too significant amount of fighters at their disposal. So therefore, Dr. Salik should have an escort of at least ten vipers, should he not?" "At least!" Apollo said, and then froze as he suddenly had an inkling of what his father was getting at. Killian immediately caught on to it too, and jumped in, "Commander, if it's a question of ten vipers, I've got ten men in Red Group who could do the job in an instant." Adama shook his head, "I'm sorry, Killian. We cannot spare one quarter of Red Squadron for an operation like this. We have to factor in the prospect that once our presence is made known at that outpost, the Cylons will in all likelihood be able to broadcast our presence to wherever the main Cylon Fleet is searching for us. And that means that we need our one full squadron of fighters right here on the Galactica to handle the worst case scenario as a safety factor." "Commander, you're saying that these seven trainees should suddenly go into a combat mission right away?" Apollo was flabbergasted. "That's exactly what I'm saying, Apollo," Adama said, "You and Starbuck will of course accompany them. And in the interests of providing more experience for them on this first mission, you will be temporarily detached from Red Squadron to take part in it, Killian. That gives us the ten vipers we need with our three best pilots in the Fleet to lead the way." "Commander, just a centon." Killian held up a hand. "If you detach me from Red Group for this, you're defeating the whole purpose of keeping Red Group here on the Galactica." "I want the three best pilots available on this mission if seven new trainees have to take part," Adama cut him off coldly. "Your squadron knows how to fly together as a unit. They can spare you alone for this mission. Ten vipers is another matter." "Father, with all due respect, this isn't the prudent solution. Killian's right, you should let ten vipers from Red Group handle this." "Apollo," Adama's tone grew more cold. "This isn't a subject for debate. Red Group is not detaching ten fighters for this mission. Maybe if I put it to you this way, you'll understand why the trainees have to handle it with three experienced pilots in the lead. This mission, dangerous as it sounds like, is still the kind of operation that corresponds to the conditions of level two and three on the simulator. Those are levels that all of the trainees have had experience with today. But defending this Fleet from all out attack, which is a risk we might very well end up incurring as a result of this, is the kind of scenario they haven't begun to tackle on the simulators. Now who should I be keeping in reserve for that contingency? Red Group, which is experienced to handle that, or the trainees?" Apollo felt a sense of helplessness come over him as he realized that he had no answer. "Sooner or later, these trainees have to face real combat conditions. That's why they're in this program already. We might as well give them their first baptism of fire now that we have no other choice." "Commander," Apollo decided to try a new tact, "If it must be them, then I insist on at least one more cycle of training before they do this. At least let them get up to a cycle of actual viper flight first." "There isn't time for that, Apollo. Another cycle means more distance between us and the asteroid and that makes the mission even more dangerous than it already is. The mission leaves in the next three centars." "This is just too risky!" Apollo found he had nothing else he could say at this point. "Everything we do in this profession, has an element of risk. You should be the first to know that, Captain." "Commander," Killian spoke up again, "I'm afraid I understand where Apollo's coming from. These are still shuttle pilots after all." "They're warriors, Killian." Adama said, "And all warriors know the centon they enlist, that they might have to sacrifice their lives." "But not throw them away!" Apollo protested. Adama finally sensed there was another reason why Apollo was reacting so stubbornly on this matter. With Killian present, he knew he could only raise the subject delicately, and indirectly. "Would you prefer to leave the lesser qualified pilots behind from this group of seven, then?" He chose his words carefully. He couldn't imagine that Serina would be one of the pilots who had been at the top of the group, given that she'd only spent two sectans in a shuttle and had only completed her first solo the previous day. Apollo immediately realized what his father was getting at. "I appreciate what you're saying, Commander. But if one of them gets held back, then all of them get held back. I don't think a single one of them, not even those who've completed level three like Lieutenant Dietra and Corporal Serina are qualified for this mission." Adama's eyebrows went up at the information that Serina was in fact at the top of the group, rather than the bottom. But he knew he couldn't say anything about that. "Your opinion is noted and logged, Captain Apollo." He turned to Red Leader, "Do you concur, Captain Killian?" Killian took a breath, "Commander, I think prudence would dictate letting my squadron handle this, and integrating the trainees into the rest of Red Group for emergency contingency possibility. I do not believe we face the immediate danger from a mass attack on the Fleet that warrants your decision on that point." Adama paused. "Would you feel differently if I detached several more pilots from Red Group to work with the trainees on this mission?" Killian stopped to ponder that briefly. "The intelligence report says this is a sentinel post, right?" "Yes. Lieutenant Boomer's report was that a full squadron could not be based on such a small outpost." "Then that means we're talking about something in the neighborhood of perhaps 15 to 20 Cylon fighters," Killian said, "Commander, I will withdraw my objection if you allow a total of five vipers from Red Squadron to take part in the mission. If we bring our numbers up to the point where it's one to one, then I think that's something the trainees could best handle." Adama looked at Apollo, "Captain?" Apollo knew he couldn't get Adama to budge on the matter of the trainees going on this mission. At the very least, he knew this would give them more protection. "I agree that it would greatly improve the odds in favor of success." "Very well. Captain Killian, you may assemble four pilots of your choosing from Red Group for this mission except for your deputy commander, who must stay behind. They will report to Flight Operations for full briefing with the trainees within the centar." He paused, "Dismissed." Knowing they could say nothing else, the two squadron leaders left the room. Both of them too stunned to say anything to each other about the unexpected turn of events of the day. Chapter Seven When Apollo saw the pilots selected for the mission enter the Flight Operations Center, it took all his inner strength to keep from letting any sign of emotion reveal itself. The idea of seeing Serina thrust into a combat situation after one day of training only made him wonder if the Fates were setting him up for the same cruelty he'd gone through a sectar before during the Destruction. He looked out and for an instant let himself lock eyes with Serina. And then, without showing the slightest trace of emotion, he began to address the group. "There's been an unexpected change in your schedule for today." he said. "You seven have shown remarkable proficiency for your first day in training that as a result, you will be taking part in your first actual flight, and your first actual mission within the centar." There was a visible stir from the group, as they all exchanged glances with each other. All except Serina, who had her arms folded and her expression completely stoic, never taking her eyes off her fiancee. Apollo then spent the next five centons summarizing the mission objective and showing a star chart of the region to them. When he was through, he looked out at them with all the authority he was capable of summoning. "You'll have eight experienced pilots accompanying you on this mission. Myself, Lieutenant Starbuck, Captain Killian and five additional pilots from Red Squadron. We'll do all we can to make you feel at ease. Just remember, there was a first time for us as well. Once you've gotten through your baptism of fire, from then on in, its never as difficult again." he then allowed himself a slight smile. "And I know that all of you, as patriots and warriors, will be giving nothing less than what you're all capable of. And since you've shown in this one day that you have plenty of capability, you shouldn't feel daunted by this challenge." he then made that characteristic pause that always preceded the last words. "Dismissed. Report now to your vipers in Beta Bay for launching." Apollo kept his eye on Serina as the trainees rose and departed. She only glanced back at him once, and gave him the faintest smile of reassurance before she followed the others out, leaving only Apollo and Starbuck in the room. "Okay buddy," Starbuck broke the silence, "Let's head down there." The captain nodded and the two of them departed as well. When they reached the corridor, they saw that the medical team for the mission was passing by. "Got your team set, Doctor?" Apollo inquired of Salik, who was at the head of the line. "We're all set, Captain," the Chief Medical Officer said with determination. "And I've given them careful instruction on how they can gather a sample in as little time possible." "Good thinking on that," Blue Leader nodded, "Owing to the speed differential, you'll be launching ahead of us by a few centons. We'll end up overtaking you anyway not long afterwards and our priority will be to make sure there are clear skies over the asteroid to give you time to settle down. If we're still in sustained combat at that point, we'll be flying in cover formation over your target zone the whole while. Just make sure you've contacted us so we can pinpoint your landing zone so we can form a good cover formation." "We won't forget," Salik nodded, "Good luck to you, Captain." As the rest of the med-team walked toward the turbo lift that would take them to the other section of Beta bay where their shuttle awaited, Starbuck noticed Cassiopeia at the rear of the group passing by. "Hey, Cassiopeia?" he grabbed her arm, "Got a micron?" She stopped and looked slightly uneasy, "I'm not sure, Starbuck." "It'll only take a micron. You won't even miss the turbo lift." "Okay," she nodded, "But make it quick." "Look, ah Cassie," he lowered his tone, "I just....wanted to say that I appreciate what you and the whole staff is doing to try and save our buddies lives. It takes....some real special people to show that kind of dedication." The med-tech's eyebrows knitted slightly in surprise, "Thank you. We're....doing our best, and hopefully this mission will be the key to saving them." She then paused and decided to say something just to see what Starbuck's reaction would be, "Not the sort of thing you expected from a former socialator, is it?" Starbuck frowned, "Why would you say that?" he asked, "I mean, when you get right down to it, you can almost say that a med-tech's job stems from the same kind of.....caring impulse." Cassiopeia allowed herself to smile. Starbuck had now given her another reason to believe that his interest in her stemmed from reasons far greater than the fact that she had been a socialator when they'd met last sectar. And in doing that, she was also more determined to reciprocate the interest he was showing in her. "But channeled to more appropriate ends," she said, "If anything good came from the destruction of the Colonies it was the opportunity for....fresh beginnings." she paused and looked him in the eye, "We should both learn how to take advantage of them." Starbuck grinned, "I'll remember that after the mission." he then motioned his arm for her to go by, "Better catch that turbo lift." "Of course," the blonde med-tech returned the grin, "Good luck." As soon as Cassiopeia was gone, Apollo, who had discreetly remained several feet behind, came up to his friend. "Couldn't help but hear the last part of that," the captain said. "She's right about fresh beginnings. I just hope we all have the chance to make the most of them." "We'll have it, buddy," Starbuck said with his characteristic bravado, "No reason to never think we will." "Medical shuttle now launching from Beta Landing Bay deck." Rigel's voice filled the cockpits of the fifteen vipers that now waited one deck above in the launch bay area. "Stand by now to launch Viper escort detail. Rendezvous with medical shuttle will be in coordinates Alpha three-seven." "Coordinates Alpha three-seven, confirmed," Apollo said as he methodically went over his instrument panel and wondered how many of the seven new pilots were feeling intimidated by their surroundings at that instant. "Core Control now transferring launch systems to all fighters. Launch when ready." "Acknowledged," Apollo then switched frequencies. "Blue Leader to all pilots. Launch will proceed in this order. Myself and Lieutenant Starbuck first, followed by the seven trainees. Captain Killian and the five members of Red Group will bring up the rear. Stand by." "And remember, just think of them as no different from the simulators," Starbuck chimed in, "That means keep a careful hand on your instruments at all time because after all they're as sensitive as-----" "We get the idea, Starbuck," Athena's voice interrupted, not wanting to hear Starbuck complete an analogy she had first heard him use during one of their intimate nights together before the Destruction. "Okay," Starbuck said, "By the way Athena, try not to repeat that sim exercise this time, if you know what I mean." Do I ever, Athena thought with a faint trace of disgust as she looked at her instrument panel, almost wishing that fate would let her repeat the incident for real. "Okay, Blue Leader ready to launch." Apollo cut in, "Follow according to predetermined plan." Apollo's viper then raced down the launch tube, followed by Starbuck's. Then, Lieutenant Dietra was the first of the trainees to launch, followed by Athena, Serina, Brie, Mackin, and the two male trainees, Hanlon and Jameson. "They all got off smoothly," Killian noted dryly from inside the launch bay, "Okay Red Group, let's go." Aboard the bridge, Rigel turned to a somewhat tense Adama, "All fifteen vipers are away and proceeding, sir." "Excellent," the commander said and then turned back to Tigh, "Let's hope the Lords are with us on this." The instant Serina's viper exited the launch bay and she saw the expanse of space all around her, she felt a momentary burst of awe at how different it was to have such an unobstructed view of the stars, in contrast to the more confined view from a shuttle cockpit. Shuttles didn't allow the pilot to see the vast expanse of stars on all sides of her peripheral vision. No wonder men like Apollo love their work so much, she thought. It gives you a whole sense of perspective no one else can have. As she tucked her viper into position behind the two lead ships of Apollo and Starbuck, she found that there was no trepidation inside her at all. The feel of the controls were the most natural sensation she had ever experienced in her life. I missed my calling in life, she thought as she continued to look about in fascination. This is the kind of work I was meant for, not journalism. Then again, Serina mused, it wasn't as if becoming a warrior and a pilot were a practical option for her back then. Certainly not as an unwed mother, which in those days would have automatically disqualified her from enlisting. Maybe that was why Fate kept me away from this work all those yahrens, she thought. The Lords meant to give me the joy of having Boxey first. She knew that she and Apollo would have to have a long talk with him before the sealing in order to put his mind at ease about the fact that both of his parents would now be putting themselves into the dangerous work of piloting vipers. But at the same time, she knew that Boxey was so instinctively fascinated by viper craft that he would probably think more in terms of how great it would be to have two parents in that kind of work. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she noticed one of the other vipers from the trainees go veering off in an awkward direction, as though the pilot was having trouble maintaining control of the craft. "Brie!" Starbuck radioed urgently, "Brie, what's wrong?" "I don't know----"the blonde trainee started. "You're losing control!" Starbuck's voice rose. "Back up on the power to one half! Do you hear me? Back off to one half power and let yourself get back to even heading!" All of the pilots that could see Brie's viper held their breath for what seemed an eternity before the craft finally leveled off and began to slowly make its way back into the main group formation. "Okay, good," Starbuck said, "Now hit your auto control and you'll stay locked in to the programmed heading. You did program the heading, didn't you?" "Uh....yes. Sorry. Got it! Auto control activated." "Great," Starbuck's voice relaxed. "Okay, you've got that out of the way so let's make it clear sailing from now on." At the back of the formation, Sergeant Barton of Red Group had watched and listened with a sense of both disbelief and queasiness. He immediately hit the circuit that would let him talk directly to Red Leader, with the rest of the group unable to listen in. "Sir?" he radioed. "Is that going to be typical of what we'll have to put up with on this flight? Anyone who forgot to program auto lock would get thrown out in a micron." "You don't have a say in this, Barton," Killian replied coldly. "And how would you have performed if you'd been thrown into your first combat flight on the same day you first stepped into a simulator?" The lack of a response from Barton indicated that he'd effectively cut him down on that point. "Okay," Killian said, "And one other thing, Sergeant. Don't let me catch you contacting me on a secure circuit again. Anything else you have to say is going to be for all of our ears. Is that understood?" "Yes sir," Barton mumbled. As always, Killian knew how to put him and anyone else that was part of Red Group into place. At the head of the group, both Apollo and Starbuck kept their eyes on the trainees as they proceeded toward their target. Centons went by, with few words said. All of them knew that concentration had to be so intense that no distractions from conversing could be possible. Since Brie's initial misstep, there had been little else for Apollo and Starbuck to express concern over. A word to Lieutenant Dietra about keeping her speed under control in group formation. Another to Serina about keeping a safe distance between ships while in formation. Through it all, Apollo had to admit that there was nothing that would make him feel uneasy about their inner talents as potential viper pilots. Not yet at least. The true test would come when they encountered Cylon fighters for the first time. Which if he read his star chart correctly, which showed the asteroid now coming into view at the edge, would be sooner than he figured. As an IL Cylon, Lucifer possessed the gift of a second computer brain that separated his class from that of the ordinary Cylon centurion. It was something he reveled in completely and loved to show off at times whenever he was in the company of a centurion, since he always knew that no matter what the conversation, he would always emerge the victor in terms of demonstrating intelligence and reason. The only cause for regret in that arrangement was that while the centurion might not be able to match him for intelligence, with that was the incapacity to feel any sense of anger or frustration over constantly being topped. That was one reason why Lucifer had welcomed this new assignment of working with Baltar. For the first time he'd have a chance to see up close how the human mind worked, which would be a refreshing change from the company of centurions. And he'd also have a chance to theoretically see if all that he'd been programmed to know about humans really was true. Were they completely incapable of the kind of efficient and rational planning that the advanced Cylon mind was so noted for? Or were there nuances that could still be gleaned by a Cylon mind to learn from and adapt accordingly? It was especially interesting to watch and see what kind of command decisions Baltar would try to implement now that he had been thrust into this unexpected position of power and authority only a mere sectar after being on the verge of execution. And even more interesting to ponder what kind of reaction Baltar would have to the news that he was about to bring to him. Accompanied by the gold plated command centurion, he entered the throne room, finding it amusing at how Baltar had so easily taken to the surroundings of this inner sanctum that only the Imperious Leader had ever used before. Whenever the Leader was absent from his baseship, there was a general rule that the throne room was not to be occupied by the commander in charge, whether it was a gold plated command centurion or another of the IL class like Lucifer. Clearly though, since promises of power and glory had been the key to getting Baltar to throw his lot in with the Cylons, there was no way the Imperious Leader would object to the human traitor's use of the Cylon ruler's sanctum. Not for now at least. "By your command," Lucifer said as he and the centurion came to a stop in front of the throne chair. It took three microns for it to spin around, and the IL Cylon wondered just what did Baltar do during those idle moments of isolation? Or was it all a calculated act to just emulate the Cylon ruler and put on this show display only when he knew that there would be visitors arriving soon? He was sure that whatever the answer was, it would be something to factor into his overall assessment of the human mind and psyche. "Speak," Baltar didn't disappoint Lucifer by putting all the authority and pomp into his voice that he could have expected to hear. "We have caught up to the Galactica's flight path and are now maintaining a position parallel to her, outside of scanner range. She would not be able to detect us without sending patrols off to her flank." "Excellent," Baltar nodded. "Standard procedure is to send patrols to the front only in this instance. What is her present heading?" "She has veered away from the outpost in Otarsis sector." "Quite logical." "On the contrary," Lucifer decided now was the time to spring the surprise and see the reaction, "It is not logical. Their course is taking them toward the Epsilon quadrant, toward a magnetic abyss." The human traitor frowned, "A magnetic abyss?" "A void," Lucifer said, "A navigational inferno, possibly endless. Such phenomena are not uncommon in the universe." Baltar's eyes drifted away from the IL Cylon, as though he were trying to recall something in the back of his mind, but was unable to find it. "At any rate," Lucifer continued, "Logic would have dictated that they engage our small outpost rather than enter such a dangerous area." Baltar returned his gaze to the IL, "Unless they know we are following them, and they hope that this...void might give them some form of protective cover." Lucifer found himself unable to summon an instant reply, as the traitor's remark was not something he had anticipated. "Anything is possible," he finally said after exchanging a quick glance with the command centurion, "But the odds are astronomically against it." "You don't know Adama," Baltar gently chided, "He is not a man apt to feel any sense of overconfidence or easy security after the sneak attacks of last sectar. I somehow suspect that his inclination is to be more careful in trying to ascertain the potential danger of our presence. That means the odds are not astronomically against the possibility they know we're following them, by my calculation." He paused, "Another intangible it would seem that the Imperious Leader recognized that only I could discern." For the first time in his existence, Lucifer felt what he believed the human mind would have called "flustered." So far, Baltar was demonstrating a cutting level of arrogance worthy of the finest IL, and Lucifer also realized for the first time that his reaction was exactly the kind that he'd always regretted not being able to get from a centurion whenever he conversed with them. "Whatever the case may be," Lucifer finally spoke, "We are at last in close proximity to the Galactica and are in a position to destroy her. Shall we launch all our fighters against the Galactica?" Baltar leaned back in his chair and shook his head, "No. I remain unconvinced that an all-out ship-to-ship engagement will work at this stage." "Then what do you propose?" Lucifer felt he had no choice but to prod the traitor on this matter, to at least see if Baltar was actually serious about trying to come up with a plan for the Fleet's destruction. "We will not remain idle," Baltar said, "The Galactica does send out reconnaissance patrols, do they not?" "Occasionally," Lucifer admitted, "But mostly to their front periphery. When we can detect them, we drop back out of range before we can be noticed." "Don't do that with the next group that goes out," Baltar said, "I want top priority given to capturing one of their pilots." "For what purpose?" Baltar smiled malevolently, "If I'm right, then if things go according to plan, Adama will turn the Galactica over to me without firing a shot. A far happier alternative for the Imperious Leader in terms of avoiding loss of Cylon personnel, and also giving him the opportunity of a grand show trial on Cylon for the last surviving elements of Colonial civilization." "By your command," Lucifer bowed, feeling somewhat impressed by Baltar's reasoning on that point. As he and the command centurion left the chamber, he leaned over and said, "Isn't he wonderfully devious? We could learn much from him in the end, it would seem." But to Lucifer's eternal chagrin, the command centurion had no response for something he was completely incapable of fully comprehending. The lack of conversation amongst the fifteen viper pilots was almost beginning to strike Starbuck as almost eerie. He was always used to some kind of by-play between pilots during a mission as a way of breaking the tension. But this time, none of the pilots dared engage in that, especially as they tried to get used to the feel of a viper for the first time. Finally, Apollo broke the silence, "Attention all vipers. Asteroid now on my scanner, sector Delta five. Computate immediately." Starbuck flicked his scanner for more detailed results, "Got it." "Uh...Captain?" the male trainee, Sergeant Hanlon spoke up, "I don't have it on my scanner yet." "You and the rest of the group are still outside scanning range of the asteroid, Hanlon," Apollo said gently, not wanting to show any exasperation now. "Starbuck, Killian, you keep everyone on an arc just outside the range for now. I'm going to try a low level approach from the other side of the asteroid. If I can catch them by surprise, I might be able to take out their sentinel guard before they can scramble the rest of their fighters." "Captain," Lieutenant Dietra interjected, "You'd stand a much better chance if all of us just dropped in on the outpost at once. We are capable of handling this while the skies are clear." "Dietra, you can demonstrate your capability by following orders," Apollo curtly cut her off. "Captain, I have to concur with Dietra," Killian jumped in, "The purpose of this exercise is to do things as quickly as possible and I think its best we just throw all our strength at the outpost right now while we've got the element of surprise." "I'm in command, Red Leader, and my decision is final," Apollo felt some of the exasperation slip through since the last thing he needed was to hear dissent from Killian, which probably would have all the other Red Group pilots chiming in with their dissatisfaction as well. "You and Starbuck keep them together. I'm going in now." Apollo then activated his turbo and peeled off from the rest of the main group. As she watched his viper disappear from view, Serina took a breath and then whispered to herself, "Good luck, Captain." Toward the middle of the pack, Corporal Brie, not fully over her near disaster after launch, had been making a careful check of all her instrument panels and now frowned when she saw a solitary blip on her rear scanner. "Starbuck?" she radioed, "I'm picking up a blip on rear scan, quadrant Tau..." "That's the med shuttle, Brie," Starbuck gently chided, "It's ours." "Wait a centon," Killian felt a slight trace of alarm, "Starbuck, I thought you told the shuttle to hold position in Epsilon quadrant until the area was secure." "I did." "Well she said the contact is in Tau quadrant. How can it be the shuttle if it's not where it's supposed to be?" "And its closing in on us!" Brie's voice rose slightly. Starbuck let out an exasperated sigh and hit his rear scanner where he could now see the approaching blip, "Med shuttle, this is Blue Two. Why aren't you holding your position in Epsilon Quadrant?" he radioed. "Blue Two this is Med Shuttle," the voice of the shuttle pilot sounded confused, "We are holding position. What are you talking about?" "What the----" Starbuck muttered as he hit his warbook identification scan, and then his jaw dropped slightly when he saw that is was a Cylon fighter that was closing in on them. "Positive ID of Cylon fighter!" Killian said. "Frack, that's great. Killian, you keep the squadron together. I'll take care of this one." "Copy. We'll stand by here in case that's not just one lone ship returning to the asteroid. If there are more, we'll need to be in position to intercept them and keep them from jumping on Apollo." Starbuck hit his turbo and did a slow turn that sent him in the opposite direction from the rest of the squadron. The Cylon fighter would soon be right in front of him. Then, from the corner of his eye he caught sight of something else and did a double take when he saw another viper pulling up alongside. From his vantage point, he could easily recognize Athena in the cockpit. "Athena, what do you think you're doing?" "I was assigned as your wingmate in the patrol formation, Starbuck," her voice was precise, "And Apollo said in the training session that a wingmate should stick to a leader at all times." Knowing it was a waste of time to argue, Starbuck decided not to pursue the point. "Okay, but hold back just a little. And ah, like I said before, try not to shoot me okay?" Athena angrily gritted her teeth and switched off her radio for a brief micron, "Just keep it up, Starbuck, just keep it up and you'll tempt me too much." Then, shaking off her inner anger, she turned her radio back on and activated her attack computer. The Cylon outpost on the asteroid had only a complement of some sixty centurions, which meant that in the event of an emergency situation requiring the launch of all 15 fighters stationed there, only 15 would be left to man the base operations. From the standpoint of Cylon efficiency, greater numbers were never deemed practical for such an isolated outpost. The asteroid was intended solely to serve as a sheltered listening post for enemy activity, one that could detect an enemy's presence without much risk of detection in return. On this day however, the positions would be entirely reversed from the intended roles. The approaching Cylon fighter, launched from Baltar's baseship to investigate the status of where the fifteen vipers from the Galactica were going, had radioed ahead to the base warning them of the impending attack. Now, all the centurions who manned the 15 fighters were quick to head for the launch and landing area and scramble to readiness to meet the approaching danger. "Scanner indicates only one viper from main group approaching toward the base," one of the operations centurions reported to the base commander. "Destroy it and have all fighters intercept the remaining Colonial vipers." As soon as Starbuck and Athena made visual contact with the Cylon fighter, the enemy craft opened first, unleashing a wild stream of blue laser fire across their paths. "Roll to your right!" Starbuck barked as he took his own viper into a gentle roll, "Set yourself up for reverse thruster move once out of the roll!" He saw that Athena had no trouble with the maneuver, which now put them both alongside each other with their tails to the approaching craft. "Stand by on reverse thruster," Starbuck said, "Remember, keep your tail down before you activate the thruster or you'll run right into him." "Tail down," Athena grunted as she saw a streak of Cylon laser fire sail over her head, and wished he would give the order now. "Okay, reverse thruster now!" The two vipers then moved in that fast backward motion that always managed to take the simple minded centurion pilots by surprise. It never ceased to amaze Starbuck at how Cylon pilots had not been programmed after all these yahrens to react more quickly to that kind of maneuver. Evidently the thinking in Cylon circles was that the superior numbers they possessed would always be enough to compensate for the quirks of individualism that only human pilots could possess. Now, the two vipers were lined up behind the Cylon fighter in position for the kill. Starbuck glanced over at Athena and decided that now was the time to make a critical judgment that could have important long-term consequences if it came off right. "Athena, you got him sized up on your attack computer?" "Got him," she replied. "Then you perform the honors," Starbuck said without hesitation, "As soon as he's locked on and blinking, you open fire." For an instant, Athena was surprised that Starbuck would suddenly show that kind of faith in her after his previous cutting remarks about the simulator exercise mishap. She looked back at her attack computer and saw that the fighter was just above the target lock point. Making a careful adjustment to her heading, her viper went up slightly, and as it did the Cylon came down on the attack computer until finally it locked and began to blink. Then, with more adrenaline surging through her than at any other time in her life, her finger came down on the fire button. Just two quick shots.....and then it was over as the Cylon fighter exploded. "I got him!" She let out a happy exclamation. "Starbuck, did you see that?" Starbuck almost wished he could have played a practical joke on her by peeling off out of her sight and saying nothing for a several microns. But the urgency of the situation meant there was no time to engage in practical jokes right now. "Saw it. Congratulations." He kept his voice matter of fact. "But they've clearly had time to warn the outpost about our presence so let's hook back up with the rest and give Apollo some support fast!" It only took one brief scan of the energy readings from the asteroid for Apollo to pinpoint the location of the outpost. Soon, he had a visual fix on the blinking signal lights on the mountain face. Right now the key was for him to make some quick hits on that part of the mountain to cripple their launch capacity. But before Apollo could make his attack run, he suddenly saw the rock face move upward, and he realized that it meant only one thing. The outpost was launching all of its fighters. "Frack!" Apollo uncharacteristically swore and pounded his fist against the side of the cockpit. He knew that within microns as many as fifteen Cylon fighters would emerge from the launch area, and there was no way he could deal with that single-handedly. He saw the first Cylon fighter emerge and he decided to try for one quick shot before making a fast retreat. Without using his attack computer, he opened fire and managed to destroy the first ship before it had reached its full flight capacity. Apollo then activated his main turbo and began a heading that would take him back toward the main group of vipers. Even as he saw the rest of the outpost's fighters on his rear scan, his first thought wasn't so much about the danger to himself but to the potential danger to Serina, Athena and the rest of the trainees. "Blue Squadron, this is Apollo. They've launched their fighters and are headed to intercept. By the time you get to me you'll have fighters surrounding you." the force of an explosion rocked his fighter. "Copy you, Blue Leader," Killian's determined voice crackled in his helmet. "We're ready for them. Red Group fighters, assume position on my starboard flank, Blue Group trainees, assume position on my port. Stand by to intercept!" "Affirmative that, Captain!" Dietra said, clearly chomping at the bit now. "We're ready." "Ten microns and closing," this from Sergeant Mackin, one of the other female trainees. "Captain Apollo's in trouble!" "Blue Group, you're closer to him, try to see what you can do, if you can't get into position, I'll move in on the sucker." "I have him sized up, Red Leader," Serina jumped in, feeling both tension and determination going through her body. She maneuvered her viper in ahead of the rest of the trainee pilots and could now see one Cylon fighter doggedly pursuing Apollo. Clearly, this would require the more difficult maneuver of a lateral shot. She glanced back down at her attack computer and could see Apollo's ship move off the screen, while the Cylon fighter moved across toward the middle. He'll move across my line in three.....two......one.....Now! Serina's finger came down on the fire button and she let out a startled burst when she felt the power of the lasers emerge from her craft. Then, she looked back up just in time to see the red streaks impact directly on the Cylon craft. "Got him!" she let out an excited burst of happiness. "Captain Apollo, you're now clear of him!" Apollo shook his head in disbelief at the realization that it was Serina who had bailed him out. And already he knew that he wasn't going to hear the end of it from her once they returned. "Thank you, Corporal," Apollo kept his tone professional. "Okay Killian, I'm resuming command of the squadron. We need to take out every last one of them." "Understood. Suggest we stay together as one cohesive unit rather than allow one-to-one engagement." "Noted and granted," Apollo nodded as he pulled back up alongside the rest of them. "All fighters, stay packed together spaced no more than ten ship lengths apart. Draw them into us and they should be sitting ducks." It was clearly the more dangerous maneuver from the standpoint of the concentration of fire that would be raining down on them from the approaching Cylons, but at the same time it would mean that they could all stay close together and the experienced pilots could use their superior skills to take out more of the fighters. "Got ?em lined up," Sergeant Barton chimed in. "Opening fire now!" In just a matter of microns, Barton and the other fighters from Red Group had taken out five of the approaching Cylons. Now, the Colonials enjoyed the numerical advantage. "They're peeling off toward your flank, trainees," Killian said, "Watch yourselves." "Don't worry, we don't scare easy," Dietra said as she moved ahead of the rest of the group and sized up two approaching fighters. One shot destroyed the lead one, but the second one managed to roar past before she could take it out. "Uh-oh," she said with alarm as she backed off on her turbo power. "One of them's about to get by!" "I've got him, Dietra!" this from Brie, still determined to make up for her earlier mistake. But her shot was also erratic, and missed, "Felgercarb!" she cursed. "Easy, Brie," Serina said calmly as she pushed her craft gently to starboard and sized up the fighter. Again, she did a mental count down from three before opening fire. And once again, her shot was perfect. "Got him!" She exclaimed, "They're down to no more than seven now." "Make that five," this from Sergeant Hanlon, "Jameson and I got the ones on the periphery." "Apollo, I think as a group we can handle the rest of them at three to one superiority," Killian said. "With their launch bay open for recovering these suckers, the outpost should be a sitting duck against one viper. Suggest either you or I go in to take care of that." "Affirmative Red Leader, you stay in charge of the group, I'll go back in on the outpost." Apollo hit his turbo and headed back toward the asteroid. It only took him a centon to be back in the position he had been in earlier for a strafing run on the outpost. Only this time, he had an open and exposed landing bay area that even exposed the interior of the base itself to his view. Apollo took his viper into a steep dive toward the landing bay, never taking his finger off the trigger. He could see the red streaks of laser fire impact inside and set off a chain reaction of explosions that belched outward. Finally, several hundred feet from the blazing opening of the mountain face, he pulled back up, giving himself some brief dizziness from the g-factor pressure as he climbed out of the asteroid's atmosphere and back into starry blackness of space. By the time he had shaken his head clear of the dizziness, he could look up and see the other vipers approaching his position. There were no other Cylons to be seen. "Nice shooting, Captain!" he could easily tell Dietra was grinning. "They're all probably melted scrap by now." "Thanks," Apollo smiled, "Looks as though you did the same to them out here." "You'll be interested to know, Captain, that the trainees accounted for nine of the fourteen kills overall, with no losses whatsoever," Serina said proudly. "You all did well under exceptional circumstances," Apollo said. "Consider yourselves through the baptism of fire, and full-fledged warriors from this point forward." He paused as he realized that there were two voices he hadn't heard, "What happened to Starbuck and Athena?" "They went after a Cylon on our rear flank that warned the base of our presence," Killian said. "Indications are they took care of him and they should be caught up to us any micron now." For the first time, Apollo's euphoria faded, "There was a Cylon in the rear quadrant?" "Yes. Just the one." "Oh boy," Apollo took a breath, "I don't like the sound of that. That fighter may not have come from the asteroid." "Well whether it did or not, we don't have time to investigate that, Apollo. We've got to make sure things stay clear here for the med shuttle to do its job." "Understood," Apollo nodded and then switched frequencies, "Medical shuttle, this is Blue Leader. Asteroid is secure for you to land on. But don't take more time than you have to, to get what you need." There was a brief pause before an answer came back, "This is Dr. Salik, Captain. We only need twenty centons and we'll be off that rock in an instant." "Copy that," Apollo switched frequencies, "Killian, I want your fighters and Starbuck to stand by and continue to provide escort and cover for the shuttle. Trainees, you'll accompany me back to the Galactica so we can make our report of the situation to Commander Adama." "Affirmative, Apollo," Red Leader said, "With the asteroid secure, the seven of us are adequate for security escort." he paused, "My congratulations to all of you in Blue Squadron. I know I speak for everyone in Red Group that it's been an honor to fly with you on this mission." "Thank you, Captain Killian," Dietra said, "It's been our pleasure too." "Okay Blue Group," Apollo said, feeling relieved that it was over. "Let's head for home." As soon as he received the news direct from Apollo, Omega almost bolted from his chair and ran up the steps to the upper level where Adama and Tigh held ground. "Commander," he didn't conceal the excitement he felt, "Captain Apollo reports mission a complete success. Outpost destroyed and no casualties. The med shuttle will be returning with the samples within a centar." "Good!" Adama allowed himself a feeling of exhilaration for just that one word, and then suddenly it was gone. Already he had the look of someone who now felt the need to move on to more important business. "As soon as the entire squadron has landed, order all ships in the Fleet to close in on the Galactica and slow down to probe speed." "What?" Tigh was caught off guard. "You mean we're still going into the void? With the outpost destroyed, that now clears that sector of space for us." Adama shook his head, "No it doesn't, Tigh. That outpost certainly had enough time to alert every other nearby base, and there's little doubt that reinforcements will soon be on top of that area by the time the rest of the Fleet would be in that sector. We have to keep moving on our present course," he took a breath, "At least the darkness of the void will give us some cover. And the Cylons might be dissuaded from venturing into it themselves." "It may give us some cover, Commander," Tigh now felt a sense of exasperation rising to the surface, "But it may also end up causing who knows how many ships to get lost, and that void will end up doing to this Fleet what the Cylons haven't been able to accomplish." Adama stared at his friend for a micron, not changing his expression in the slightest. He placed his hand in his pocket where he could still feel the letter he had written to Ila, and then pulled his hand out and touched the ceremonial medal about his neck that denoted his position as a member of the Council of Twelve. Finally, he turned away from the executive officer and faced a confused Omega. "We're heading in. Pass the word to the rest of the Fleet, Omega." "Yes sir," the bridge officer said dazedly as he made his way back down the steps to the lower level. As soon as the shuttle landed on the asteroid, the med-tech team, all clad in full protective garments wasted little time getting out and beginning their scans of the surface. "Med scanner reveals high concentrations of the viral strain largely in the ground, minute concentrations in the air." Nestor reported. "The virus thrives in the soil then," Salik said, "The trace readings in the air are from the emissions in the ground. Take a large soil sample first. Cassiopeia, I want you to take an air sample just as large, and we'll have what we need to run comparative tests on how it reacts to this atmosphere and the Galactica's. I'm convinced the comparison is the key to figuring out how it breaks down." As Salik watched his med-techs go to work, for the first time since the crisis had erupted, he began to feel the sense of helplessness dissipate. Aboard the baseship, Lucifer again found himself accompanying the command centurion into the throne room. The news he had to bring was anything but positive, but at the very least it would give him further insight into seeing how Baltar's mind operated. "His reaction to the news should be very interesting to observe," he leaned over to the command centurion and verbalized what he was thinking. But once again, the command centurion had no response for him. When they reached the base of the throne chair, it had already begun to turn around even before Lucifer could finish uttering, "By your command." Clearly, Baltar was anxious to hear further news at this point. "Speak." "Vipers from the Galactica have attacked and destroyed our outpost." Baltar's eyebrows went up, "Then the Galactica is on her way over the outpost now?" "No," Lucifer might have shaken his bulbous head if he possessed the inkling, "She is entering the void." The traitor leaned forward in his chair, his expression one of disbelief. "But why bother risking detection by destroying the outpost if they had no intention of moving in that direction?" "It is indeed, quite puzzling to say the least," Lucifer conceded. "Unless maybe Adama needs something from the asteroid?" Baltar absently gazed at the ceiling, trying to think, "Food? Fuel?" "The fuel supply at the outpost was only enough to maintain fifteen fighters on short range patrols. A mere pittance for what the Galactica and her fleet would need. And there is no supply of food fit for human consumption to be found on the asteroid." "Strange," Baltar shook his head as he leaned back in his chair. "There is....one other curious matter to report." "What is it?" "Reports indicated that many of the Colonial viper craft that engaged the outpost flew in a most....erratic fashion." "Evidently they flew well enough to destroy your base," Baltar retorted, clearly unimpressed by that detail. For the first time, Lucifer felt his inner sense of exasperation increasing. It was maddening to see how Baltar seemed to have the ability to top him with such ease. Perhaps the time had come to show a little less deference to him. "It was a small outpost, caught by surprise since you determined the Galactica would not strike there." Baltar broke into a grin and began to laugh, which only further heightened the IL's sense of inner exasperation. "Do not fence with me my friend. We have suffered no significant setback, and everything continues to proceed according to my plan. Except for the fact that you did not see to it that one of their pilots was captured as I ordered, while this strike was taking place on the asteroid." "To assure such a capture, we would have to risk being discovered----" Lucifer began to protest, but Baltar quickly cut him off. "We went over this before, Lucifer. And it would seem that you have failed in this instance to fully execute your duties as was expected of you." "I apologize for my impudence," Lucifer bowed his head, as he realized that Baltar had him on that point. "One of our patrol craft did engage the attack force and had warned the outpost before its destruction, and apparently it was assumed that the outpost's fighters would be sufficient to handle that task. The rest of our patrol did not regard it as their place to interfere, lest they make the Galactica think the one craft was not conceivably from the outpost to begin with." "Caution in this instance does not serve them well," Baltar's tone grew frosty, "My order still stands. The Galactica sends out patrols do they not? Capture one!" He then turned the throne chair away from him, indicating to Lucifer that the conversation was over. As the IL left the chamber, he found that he was too discouraged inside to say anything to the command centurion. The only thing going through his mind was that accepting this assignment may not have been such a good thing after all. Chapter Eight When Apollo returned to the Galactica, he didn't immediately leave the landing bay to make his report to Adama. Instead, he lingered for several centons, waiting for the vipers of the seven trainees to land first. Watching each of them get out with a feeling of both relief that it was over, combined with exhilaration that all had gone well. And waiting for Serina to get out and come over to him, so he could have his first private talk with her since before the news of the mission. The two male trainees, Hanlon and Jameson came up to him first, both of them patting each other on the back. Apollo instantly noticed how the two of them almost seemed to have aged by a yahren now that they had taken part in their first mission. Which once again proved that what his old instructor at the Academy had said was true. The Baptism Of Fire ritual always took away a part of one's feeling of youthful innocence. "Congratulations, gentlemen," Apollo said. "Thank you, sir," Hanlon came to attention. "Do we resume normal training exercises on the simulators tomorrow?" "Yes, for Level Four tests of all out attack on the Fleet," Apollo nodded. "Report there at 0900." "We'll be there," Jameson said as the two walked away. Apollo looked back at the five female trainees who were all gathered together, conversing vigorously about the mission they had just completed. It was more than a centon before Serina finally bothered to look in his direction and see him standing by the support pillar, motioning her to come over. "You go ahead, I'll catch up with you, later," he could hear Serina say to them as she then came over to him while the others headed for the turbo lift at the other end of the landing bay. "Hi," Apollo smiled crookedly, "Thought it was time we have a little talk now that it was over." "Of course," Serina returned his smile, but inside she felt just a little bit of tension. "You did a good job out there, Serina. You and all the trainees. It's a lot more than I would have expected under these circumstances." "Thank you," Serina didn't change her expression. "Oh and ah...." he lowered his head and seemed to shuffle his feet, "Thanks for bailing me out too." "Just doing what you've trained us all to do, Apollo," she said. He looked up at her almost quizzically, "Is that all you felt when you found yourself in that position, Serina?" "No it isn't," his fiancee didn't bat an eye, "I felt a lot of things going through my head at that centon when I saw that I had to make a lateral shot to take out that Cylon. Just like I know you felt a lot of things going through your head when you realized I had to take part in this mission, and you saw me out there for the first time. But what do you expect me to do, Apollo? Collapse in a burst of released emotions now that the first mission is over?" She shook her head, "I can't ever do that, Apollo. Not if this is going to be my life's work from here on. Just like you've never let yourself do that since you became a warrior." Apollo let out a sigh of resignation as he awkwardly looked at the floor again. "It still bothers you, does it Apollo?" Serina reached out and touched his arm. "Even after you've seen how good I can be out there?" "Especially now that I've seen how good you can be out there," Apollo didn't look up. "That's what bothers me the most, Serina. I wish you weren't doing this, but I don't have a single valid reason to argue why you shouldn't do this. Not after you've proved yourself today." "Then drop it," her voice grew both quiet and firm at the same time. "If you value what we mean to each other, and value our future together, then drop it now. Please." Serina took his chin and lifted it so that he was now looking at her, "Apollo, I'm not going to be the kind of warrior who'd take a foolish risk. That's never been your style and it's not going to be mine. You've kept yourself out of trouble for seven yahrens, and all I need to do is follow your example and I know we never have to worry about each other's safety." Apollo knew he was beaten. He had to admit the inevitable, and the sooner he did, the better it would be for the both of them. "Serina," he touched her shoulder, "I'll drop it. But if it seems like it's taking me awhile to put it all behind me....just please promise me you'll be patient. I....don't want to lose you. Ever." Serina smiled warmly at him and then pulled him to her so that they were now embracing. "You never will, my captain," she kissed him on the lips, "We've got a lot of yahrens ahead of us." Five centons later, Apollo was on the bridge making his report to Adama. "The trainees proved themselves beyond what I expected," Apollo said. "I would have no objections to taking them on any other mission where they might be needed." "Hopefully that won't be necessary," Adama said, "Assuming Salik is able to find a cure for the disease, we might have Blue Squadron back to full readiness the next time a mission is needed." Hearing his father say that immediately made Apollo realize there was something he hadn't bothered to ask him before, and the answer might end up adding a new wrinkle to the matter of Serina's future. "Father," he lowered his voice, "Assuming we do get Blue Squadron back, then....what would become of all the trainees? We'd.....have more pilots than there are vipers for them to fly." Adama's eyes narrowed as he realized what his son was getting at. "Your professional judgment with regard to these trainees was that they did an excellent job, was it not?" "Yes," he admitted. "Then there is no possibility of my taking them off flight status," Adama said firmly. "It may be that some of them will prove to be more qualified than some of the junior members presently in Blue or Red Squadron when it comes to being on active status. But at the very least, Apollo, all of them are going to be part of a reserve contingent that will be expected to fly at a centon's notice if they're ever needed. They've gone through the training, and those skills are going to be put to use in the future even if we get all of Blue Squadron back." He paused, "Anyone who doesn't want that status would have to opt out voluntarily, Apollo. But no one is going to be removed from that status unless its for dereliction of duty or incompetent performance." "I understand," Apollo nodded vigorously, "And I agree completely. We have to continue to draw on their skills after the crisis has past." "I'm glad you see it that way," Adama said cautiously, hoping that his son would cease to look for any hope that Adama would find some loophole that would get Serina off flight status. "Commander," Omega came up to them, "Already we're getting some early signs of interference with our systems from the void, and we're still two centars from penetration." "Begin recalibration of system scanners, and continue the process of closing the Fleet to smaller spacings between ships." Adama said. The bridge officer nodded and walked away. Apollo looked at his father with surprise, "We're going to enter the void?" "Yes," the commander said, "Events leave us with no other alternative at this time. Thankfully the matter of getting what was needed from the asteroid was accomplished before we entered it." "Father, I nearly got lost forever inside that place. I'm not sure it's a good idea for a Fleet this size to----" "Apollo, you mentioned your suspicion that the one Cylon fighter Starbuck took care of may not have come from the asteroid," Adama gently cut him off. "If that's the case then we're dealing with the likely possibility that one of their baseships is closer than they've been to us at any time since Carillon. Entering the void will at the least offer us some potential shelter from that danger." "It might be at too high a cost." Adama slowly shook his head, "I have a feeling it won't be, Apollo. Not in the least bit." "Commander," this from Rigel, "Medical shuttle has left the surface of the asteroid and is now en route back from the asteroid with the rest of our vipers. They'll be aboard in fifteen centons." "Excellent!" Adama said as he mounted the steps to the command deck, "Inform all ships that all shuttle flights between vessels in the Fleet will be suspended in exactly one centar until further notice. We can't risk the possibility of shuttle pilots getting lost once we're inside the void. All supply shuttles are to make their deliveries immediately before that suspension goes into effect." "Yes sir." "Father----" Apollo started. "Do you have any alternate plan to propose, Captain?" Adama looked down at him from his higher position on the upper deck, which had an intimidating effect on his son. "No," he shook his head. "No, I don't. I'll...be in my quarters if I'm needed." He then straightened himself and left the Bridge. Throughout the shuttle ride back to the Fleet, Cassiopeia could tell that Salik was literally chomping at the bit to get to his lab and begin his study of the samples they had collected from the asteroid. They had spent the entire time in a sealed off section of the shuttle to prevent contamination, forced to keep their decon suits on the whole time, but even with them on, there was no mistaking the Chief Medical Officer's determination. The whole time he simply sat on the bench located on the side of the compartment, hunched over slightly and occasionally banging his gloved hands together as though some ideas were occurring to him. What a remarkable man, Cassiopeia thought. With someone as dedicated as Salik heading the operation, it was little wonder that Cassiopeia felt a real sense of purpose in her work as a med-tech. Which for the former socialator, represented another chance at a road she had not taken once before. Five yahrens ago, she had taken med-tech training courses at the University she'd attended on Aeries. But she had also at the same time been reading up and learning about the ways of the Socialator, and had found herself torn as to what would be a better option for her, and what would provide a greater sense of purpose in her life. Ultimately, she had chosen the path of a socialator, and it had led to many experiences in her life in the five yahrens leading up to the Destruction that had produced both happiness, satisfaction, and with it, sadness as well. But nothing more sad than the one time in that five yahren span that she had allowed her services as a socialator to turn into something more than it was supposed to. The one time in her life that she had genuinely fallen in love with a man, and had hoped to see it become something permanent. And the relationship had not just been with any ordinary man, but with one of the most renowned figures in Colonial civilization, Commander Cain of the Battlestar Pegasus. Even now, nearly two yahrens since she'd last seen Cain she could still close her eyes and see that handsome face of the man called the Juggernaut quite clearly in her mind. Commander Cain's reputation as one of the greatest warriors the Colonies had ever produced had long been known to her, but when she'd met the man, she'd found him grief-stricken in a Caprica City bar, over the recent death of his wife. Not knowing at the time who she was talking to, she had offered her services and the end result had led to a relationship that Cassiopeia still cherished in her heart to this day, even though it had been marred by the feelings of hatred Cassiopeia had received from Cain's daughter, Sheba. The relationship had ended when Cain had taken the Pegasus and other ships of the Colonial Fifth Fleet off to engage the Cylons in the Molocay System. An engagement Cain never returned from, leaving Cassiopeia devastated inside. It had taken her many sectars to accept the reality that her lover was gone, and finally return to the world of the socialator that she was convinced she'd left behind for good when she'd realized how serious her relationship with Cain had become. To this day, her relationship with Cain was a secret she guarded quite zealously and had no intention of ever revealing to any of her new friends aboard the Galactica. Especially not to Starbuck, whom she'd become attracted to since they'd first met aboard the Gemonese freighter. She could only wonder how Starbuck would react if he ever found out that she had once been the lover of one of the most famous warriors ever, and she could only see him becoming intimidated by such knowledge. That he might instinctively back off from her on the grounds that there was no way he could ever compete with the aura of Cain's memory in her heart, and that it was best to move onto someone he felt more confident of easily impressing. But even if she didn't have those concerns, she doubted that she would ever feel the strength to tell him or anyone. As far as she was concerned, her relationship with Cain, as well as her entire career as a socialator, belonged to the distant past, and it was, as she had said to Starbuck, time for fresh beginnings. As soon as the shuttle came to a stop inside the Galactica, Salik suddenly sprung up from the bench and spoke for the first time since before they'd taken off. "All right everybody! As soon as we get out of these suits, we take these samples to the Life Station and then we get set to work through the night if we have to. By tomorrow, I expect us to find the answer we're looking for." As Cassiopeia got up and followed the other med-techs out, she shook her head in amazed admiration again. There was something about Salik that reminded her so much of her late father, an Aerian merchant who had single-handedly raised Cassiopeia while maintaining a full and active career. The same determination, the same willingness to plow ahead during difficult times. And with it, a sense of underlying compassion that one could always notice. Even though it had been a long day for her, as well as the other med-techs, she had every intention of staying up to work through the night with Salik. Adama knew it was approaching the point where he should finally consider turning in for a much needed sleep cycle, but the looming presence of the void just ahead was keeping him awake and determined to stay on the Bridge for as long as he had to. As he looked out the main viewing screen, he could already see the first visual sign of what lay before them. One small block at the bottom center of the screen was uncharacteristically black in contrast to the starlit points of the rest of the screen. That signaled the location of the void to them like a beacon. "Commander," Omega came over to him, his expression growing more concerned with each new report he had to give, "Navigation report is getting worse. Instruments are fluctuating radically due to magnetic interference." "And we still haven't penetrated the void yet," Tigh added, "Commander, don't you think----" Adama shook his head and cut the executive officer off, "Steady on course." "Commander," Rigel called over from her station, "We're receiving a number of Priority One emergency calls from the Rising Star, the Antares and other passenger ships." "The Fleet's beginning to panic," Tigh persisted, "Once we get inside that thing, it can only get worse." The Commander stood in silent contemplation for several microns, and then went over to Rigel's station where he picked up the unicom signal that would broadcast his voice to the entire Fleet. "This is Commander Adama. At this time, as we prepare to enter this void, all captains are ordered to move their ships into visual range of the Galactica and maintain visual contact at all times. Also, all ships are to keep every running light and every porthole area lit as well to provide full visual reference for those nearby. In case of communications interference, visual signals via signal lights will be employed for ship to ship communication." He put the unicom down and moved back to Omega, "Time to penetration of the void?" "Fifty centons." Adama looked out the viewing screen again and let out a slow exhale as his eyes locked on the ominous zone of darkness at the bottom center of the screen. Events had reached the point where nothing more could be done for now. "I'll be in my quarters but not on sleep cycle," Adama said, "Notify me immediately on video-com if there are any new developments." When Starbuck returned to the Blue Squadron Officers Quarters, he saw that Apollo was lying in his bunk, but still fully dressed and wide awake. "Hey," the blonde warrior said as he removed his flight jacket, "How come you're still up?" "Can't sleep," Apollo said as he stared at the ceiling. "You ought to try to. We've got another day of training them tomorrow." "I'm a few centons away from having it postponed from 0900 to 1400, at least for those who flew today. The enlistees should probably get their first cracks at the simulators in the morning session and the ones who flew today could use a few extra centars off." "Not a bad idea," Starbuck shrugged as he sat down and began pulling off his boots. "Get any indications from Salik on what they found on the asteroid?" "They gathered their samples. That's all I know for now. Who knows how long it'll take them to run their tests. Maybe they can do it in one night, maybe it'll take a half sectan." He let out a sigh, "I'm crossing my fingers real good on this." "Me too," Apollo admitted, "I guess now it feels like things are really out of our hands as far as their lives are concerned, and we just have to hope for the best." "But at least we've got hope tonight. We didn't have that yesterday," Starbuck noted. "True." Starbuck pulled off his other boot and collapsed onto his bunk. Ordinarily, he regarded it as hard and generally comfortable, but this time it felt as soft and relaxing as a bed in a luxury resort might have. "Ahhhh. This has been one long day. Eight centars of training these new pilots, and then the mission. I hope tomorrow's better." "May not be," Apollo kept looking at the ceiling, "We're headed into the void, you know." The blonde warrior frowned and looked over at Apollo, "You're kidding. I thought taking out the asteroid would change the dynamic." "It hasn't. We're headed in because the Commander thinks the Cylons are closer than we realize. I almost would have preferred the possibility of taking them on than heading into the void though." "You really mean that?" "I do. Starbuck, you have no idea what it felt like in there when I got lost and thought I was gone. I got so disoriented, I had no sense of what my heading had been before I entered so I had no clue as to which direction I should go to get back out, or at least pierce the side perimeter. It was....like the worst childhood nightmare about being scared of the dark come to life. Another five centons and I might have been expecting some space monster from hell to suddenly pop out from nowhere." "Well, it's different now. At least the whole Fleet's together." "Doesn't change how I feel." Apollo said. "I keep thinking if I go to sleep I'm going to wake up to something more dangerous than the Cylon threat is." Starbuck's eyes narrowed, "And?" Apollo sighed, "I don't know. It's just....here I am on the verge of the happiest time of my life with Serina, and I keep worrying that something's going to keep me from experiencing it. It's almost like a.....premonition." "Well I'll tell you this, buddy," Starbuck stretched himself out, "I'd rather take my chances with the void than the Cylons any day. Because as far as I'm concerned I can't be afraid of something I can't see. And having the entire Fleet go in isn't the same thing as just you and me wandering into it on patrol." "You've got a point there," Apollo conceded, "Still....." "I got a suggestion," Starbuck said. "Why not give yourself something happy to focus on while we muddle our way through the void. You and Serina thought of moving up your sealing date?" "No," Apollo seemed surprised, "Why bother? Two sectans from now seems like just as good a time as it should be." "If you really think trouble's brewing ahead, I'd speed up your timetable for all the fun things in life you're looking forward to." Starbuck said, "You know what my motto is. Just live for today cause you never know what tomorrow might bring." "I'm not like you, Starbuck," Apollo said, "I can't let myself do things like that during times of crisis. I always end up----" "Feeling like you're shirking your duty, I know," Starbuck cut in. "But for sagan's sake, Apollo, maybe you should just put that aside this time. Don't bother waiting for news about what the void leads to, or whether Salik's found a cure, or whether these pilots who flew today will get better or worse. Just seize the chance now. Just say to Hades with the formal ceremony and all that felgercarb and do it tomorrow. All you need is to find someone with the authority to act as an overseer during a tribunal, and he can marry you right then and there." "You would think that," Apollo sighed, "If you ever got sealed, that's how you'd do things, right?" "I'd be more open to that. Assuming I ever did get sealed." "Oh that's right, I forgot," the tone of mock solemnity entered Apollo's voice, "Good old Starbuck cherishes his freedom so much that none of the women who find him so irresistible to his patented charm will ever get the better of him." "Well..." Starbuck shrugged and grinned sheepishly, "If present trends continue." Apollo finally turned his head toward Starbuck, "There are times when I think it must be a miracle that you and I, as different as we are, got to be such good friends." "I like to think we complement each other," Starbuck said, "You give me something I'd lack without your guidance. Why do you think I always say when we meet strangers, ?I'm Starbuck and this is my conscience, Apollo'?" he paused, "Although tonight, I kind of feel like the positions are reversed a bit." "Starbuck," Apollo said, "I appreciate what you're saying, but as much as I'm anxious to go ahead with the wedding, I want to do it when things will be a bit more settled. Besides, I wouldn't want to distract Serina when she needs more time to spread her wings as a pilot." "You're resigned to that for good, aren't you?" "Yep," he nodded. "I have to accept it. She's a warrior now. And probably one of the most naturally gifted I've ever seen in terms of unleashing a previously hidden talent." He then shook his head, "I never thought I'd say this, but it only seems to make her more attractive from my standpoint. Maybe her entering this work will make it easier for us to get along as a married couple." "And you can guarantee that Boxey will be wanting to sign up before his next natal day celebration." "I guess so," Apollo smiled faintly, "I just hope that what Serina and I do as warriors, won't take us away from the time we need to spend with him as he grows up." "You'll find a way." Starbuck then paused briefly, "Are you going to issue that order letting the pilots sleep till 1400?" "Frack, thanks for reminding me," Apollo said as he got to his feet. "Might as well do that now." "And in spite of the void, could you remember to turn out the light when you get back?" Starbuck said as he rolled his head to the side of his pillow. Apollo let out a bemused chuckle, and then nodded before leaving the room to head for the nearest telecom unit in the corridor. By the time he returned, the brash lieutenant was already fast asleep. Serina had hoped that Boxey would be asleep by the time she returned to her quarters, but when she arrived she saw that her son, though lying in bed, was still awake. That meant she'd probably have to have the talk with him about her new responsibilities tonight. "Hi, Mommy!" he smiled brightly. Serina knelt down beside her son's bunk and hugged him, "Hi Boxey," her voice was full of mother-love. "Were you waiting up?" "Yep." his smile faded, "They said you went flying vipers today." "I did," his mother nodded. "Not just the simulator. I got to fly for real in a viper with Apollo." "You kill any Cylons?" "Yeah," she tried to keep from sounding too enthused, "Two in fact." "I didn't know you could fly just like Apollo." "Before today, neither could I," Serina laughed. "But...I guess that just goes to show why Apollo and I are going to get sealed. We've got more in common than we ever realized." "You're not arguing with him anymore, are you?" "I told you, we did not argue yesterday," she leaned over him and kissed him on the cheek. "Apollo understands why I'm doing this, and he's going to help me get better and better when it comes to flying." she paused, "And when you start going to school again, you can tell all the other kids that you've got two parents who know how to fly vipers." "That's the only thing about school I'm looking forward to," he grinned. Serina smiled brightly at him again. "Apollo and I will tell you more about what it's like to fly vipers tomorrow. Now in the meantime, you get some sleep." She retucked the blanket in the side of the bunk and then kissed him again. "Goodnight, my darling son." "Goodnight, Mommy," he kissed her back on the cheek and then turned himself over on his side, which always helped him fall asleep faster. Serina turned out the light and made her way over to the turbo-dispensary area so she could take off her uniform in privacy. Before she entered the adjacent area, she stopped and frowned as she realized there was something about the room in the dark that didn't seem normal. She finally realized that it was the total lack of starlight that usually streamed in through the porthole. She made her way over to it and looked out, and was greeted to the sight of total blackness, punctuated only by the running lights of a passenger freighter in the distance. So this is what a void is like, she thought. Ordinarily, she might have been frightened by the sight of it. But after today's experience of being thrust into a viper for the first time, and then a combat mission, she didn't think there was anything that could frighten her anymore. There are only things to look forward to, she thought as she moved away from the sight of the void. In the Life Station, none of the staff would have been able to take note of the Galactica's entry into the void as it was located deep in the center of the ship. But even if they had been able to see it, they likely wouldn't have paid any attention to it. Not after the intensity of their work for the last several centars to try and find the secret behind the disease. "One centar's exposure to the Galactica's environment," Nestor had his attention trained on a sealed container where the samples from the asteroid had been placed in an environment resembling the Galactica. Next to it was an identical container where the sample was in an environment identical to the asteroid's. "Any change?" Salik had been pacing the room the entire time. Nestor consulted the readout and nodded with an air of guarded optimism. "Yes. Breakdown process already beginning. Not enough to keep it from being lethal if anyone were exposed to it at this point, but the decay process has started." "Transfer telemetry to my station," Salik went over to his computer terminal that recorded all the results of the scientific experiment. He sat down in front of the monitor and watched the initial results come up. For over a centon he stared at it in silence, and then vigorously went to work on the keyboard, calling up new files in the data base to use for comparative purposes. "All right," he said as he rose from his chair and faced the med-techs. "All of you except Nestor, start manning a terminal and run cross-checks of what the telemetry data shows with every viral strain in the book. Go through the entire encyclograph of Colonial Medicine if you have to. I think these results may finally start giving us some answers about this virus we can figure out." Without saying a word, all of them nodded and went to the various terminals throughout the room, each prepared for a very long, sleepless night. Tigh's sense of uneasiness had failed to lift now that the Galactica and the rest of the Fleet had entered the void. For centons, he stood on the upper level, seemingly waiting for news of the first crisis to break out. To his amazement though, nothing was happening. Finally, the lack of information caused him to go down to the main level where a tense Omega remained glued to his seat, with the same air of tension. "Anything to report?" the executive officer inquired. "No," Omega shook his head without turning around. "So far, all ships indicate they've assumed fixed positions in sight of each other and the Galactica. No indications of any distress at this point." "But their navigation systems are going haywire, aren't they?" "The smaller ships are reporting the worst trouble with those, but so far they've compensated by staying in visual contact." Omega looked at the scanners, "Apparently, boosting the power to the scanners and systems by an additional 80% helps compensate the void's effects to a degree. That means cutting back on the power elsewhere." "Interesting dilemma," Tigh grunted, "To keep the scanners operating, they have to reduce power to the lights which runs the risk of losing visual contact." "Which is why the smaller ships are preferring to let their scanners stay haywire instead." "But apart from that, things are pretty much....as normal as they can be?" "For now at least." "Okay," Tigh glanced out at the blackness that filled the viewing screen and calmly exhaled, "I'm going off-duty now. Notify Commander Adama I'll be stopping by his quarters." Since Salik had assigned each of the med-techs to individual terminals, there had only been silence in the Life Station in terms of voices speaking. But the frenzied activity of fingers hitting computer keyboards and chimes sounding to indicate new programs being accessed made the room anything but a quiet place. A half centar went by, and suddenly all activity came to a stop when Cassiopeia, stationed at one of the terminals, suddenly blurted out, "Doctor Salik!" The Chief Medical Officer came over to her console, while other heads in the room whipped in their direction. "What is it, Cassiopeia?" "Take a look," she pointed at the terminal. "The telemetry off the samples indicate the exact composition of elements in the atmosphere of the asteroid down to the last detail. Now compare them to the full composition of the Galactica's atmosphere. Isolate the elements that are present here but not in the asteroid....." she trailed off, realizing she didn't need to explain any further. Salik was staring at the screen and nodding his head vigorously. "Cassiopeia, you've given us a start. Nestor! Lycus! Start putting together derivatives from these elements and run some experiments on how a sample reacts to them. If we're lucky, we may find something that will kill this thing by morning!" Even though it had been more than two centars since Adama had gone off duty, he'd remained awake and fully dressed. Not once did he bother rising from his chair to look out the porthole at the sight of the void. Instead, he remained behind his desk, alternately absorbed in both the printed and computer versions of the Book of the Word, with the works of some leading Colonial theologians mixed in as well. His attention was distracted with word from the Bridge that Colonel Tigh was on his way to see him. After acknowledging the message, the Commander closed his books and took out a bottle of ambrosia and two chalices, in case his friend was interested in a drink. He wanted this meeting to be reminiscent of the kind of after-hours conversations he and Tigh used to engage in during their days together as viper pilots on the Battlestar Cerberus. For Adama, they had been special times of bonding in friendship with a new pilot fresh out of the Academy as Tigh was at the time, an experience Adama was grateful for since his best friend aboard the Cerberus, Lieutenant Cain, had transferred to the Battlestar Pegasus six sectars earlier to become a squadron commander. Adama also knew that this would likely be the time for him to renew part of an old philosophical discussion he and Tigh had once shared during their conversations so many yahrens ago. And he wanted the atmosphere to be as relaxed and friendly as possible. The chime sounded, and Adama decided to get up and answer the door personally. He opened it and immediately smiled warmly at his old friend, whose expression was still somewhat pensive. "Come in, Tigh," Adama motioned. "Can I get you a drink?" "Well..." the executive officer hesitated a bit, but then nodded. "I might as well. Thank you, sir." "Drop the formalities, Tigh," Adama said as he poured the ambrosia into a chalice and handed it to him. "We're off duty. I want this conversation to be like the old days aboard the Cerberus." Tigh allowed himself a faint smile as he took a sip, "Thank you, Adama." "Now that I've established the guidelines for us," Adama poured his own chalice and then resumed his place behind the desk, "Perhaps you can speak freely about my decision to take us into the void." The uneasiness then returned to Tigh's voice, "It's really not my place to comment now that the decision's been made. All I can do is accept your order and move on from it." "Tigh, you're not dropping formalities," Adama gently reproached. "Now start over and answer my question the way I want you to answer it. I respect your views, and besides," he let out a weary sigh, "I really need someone to talk to tonight. Give me your thoughts." Tigh took another sip as though he felt he needed it to gather strength, and then set his chalice down on Adama's desk. "Adama," he said in a more relaxed tone, "The possibility exists that this void could very well be endless. Blackness stretching out into infinity. Suppose we've entered something like that? How much longer could we realistically keep this Fleet together? And how soon before we lose our ability to realistically plot our way back out, or at least pierce the perimeter of it?" "That is your primary concern." "Yes," Tigh nodded. "This represents fear of the unknown, Adama. The Cylons at least are an enemy that doesn't offer us any surprises." The commander leaned back in his chair. "It is possible though that this void is not endless, Tigh." "What do you mean?" Adama set his chalice down and then opened the bound volume of the Book of the Word to the position he had marked, "The Book of the Word tells us that a great star guided the Lords of Kobol across an endless black sea that had enveloped the heavens surrounding they dying mother planet." A quizzical expression came over the executive officer's face. "The void," he said, "You think this could be the same void?" "I believe it a distinct possibility," Adama said, "Especially as this is the first void we have encountered since leaving the star systems of the Colonies." Tigh's eyebrows went up to indicate that his bewilderment was only deepening. Finally, he just shook his head. "Adama," he said, "You know that I consider myself a skeptic when it comes to matters of religion, and that includes the origins of the human race. I've....never given too much stock to the idea that the Colonies were originally settled by a single race that was guided to our worlds by some Divine purpose. To me, religion is probably something that was merely devised by our primitive ancestors to try and find simple answers to complex questions of how life began. And even if I did believe that we were settled by a race from another planet originally, then whatever reasons accounted for that had little to do with acts of Divine purpose either." "You haven't changed in the fifteen yahrens since we last had a conversation about such matters," Adama smiled thinly. "I have the highest respect for those of deep faith like you. I'm glad that religion instills a sense of morality and purpose in so many people, and that's why I never wear my skepticism on my sleeve. But...if our lives are being put at risk because of what the ancient writings say, then I do have to wonder just a bit." "You didn't raise your voice in protest when I first announced that it was the Book of the Word's reference to a Thirteenth Tribe on a planet called Earth that would form the basis for our journey." the commander noted with the gentle air of a debater. "Adama, I had no reason to protest. Because there is no alternative for us but to flee across space from the Cylons to a place of safety," Tigh said matter-of-factly. "The only thing I differ with you on when it comes to our journey is that I doubt we'll ever find some highly developed civilization that was an offshoot of our own ancestors. But ultimately, the goal I think we can realistically hope to achieve is that of finding sanctuary and safe haven on some distant planet, so we're not too far apart when it comes to that. You believe we'll find a brother tribe. I believe we'll just find an empty, but perfectly habitable planet for us to settle on in safety." Adama brought his fingertips together. "Suppose it were possible to find definite, tangible proof of Earth's existence and general location?" Light suddenly dawned on Tigh. "You think this void could provide a clue to that?" "Why do you think I've gone to this great risk of taking the Galactica and this Fleet into it?" Tigh slowly nodded, "Because you believe you'll actually find this mother planet the Book of the Word speaks of, and on there, you'll find some clue left behind about the Thirteenth Tribe." "Exactly. For a whole sectar since we left Carillon, there's been no sense of rhyme or reason to explain the course we take through space. What we need to find before we leave the environs of charted space forever, which we inevitably will within five or six sectars, is some kind of clue that can point the way for us." "I see," Tigh sat down in the chair across from him. "How long do you propose we search this void, trying to find this....star that will guide us to the mother planet? Is that how it would work?" "I do not believe the wait will be long," Adama said with confidence. "The star that guided the Lords away from the mother planet was what guided them out of the void. That means our penetration of the void should lock onto it early enough in our journey for us to be able to retrace our way out." The executive officer let out a sigh to indicate his continued skepticism. "Adama, even if the story of the void in the Book is true, there are probably as many voids in the universe as there are....ideas. The odds that we've stumbled onto that very same void are so against it, I could probably retire on just a one cubit wager." Adama then opened his desk drawer and took out an object that he then held up to the light. It was an ornamental box, and inside a plush backing was a gold medallion that had a raised shape in the center. At first glance, Tigh thought it was a Pyramid, but then he realized it had four sides. He knew there was a technical term for the shape, but his mind couldn't remember it at that instant. "You recognize this, Tigh?" Adama said with near reverence. "This medallion is the symbol of our faith. There wasn't a single cathedral or temple in all the Colonies that didn't have this symbol on top of their domes." "I know," Tigh said quietly as he finally recognized the symbol. "And through the millennia, these medallions have been handed down to each member of the Council of Twelve. To me, it's a reminder of how at so many critical junctures in history, the Almighty God that the Lords of Kobol taught us to honor and worship, has always been able to provide us with inspiration and guidance that will remind us of His presence. And that He is ultimately watching over us, ready to deliver us again as He did the Lords when they left their dying planet....and when He also guided us away from the Destruction last sectar." Tigh was silent. The skeptic within him wanted to retort about how it was difficult to believe that in light of the Destruction that had left more than fourteen billion people dead, but the reverent sincerity of Adama's words were powerful enough to keep him from doing that. Adama could never succeed in converting Tigh, but he always managed to instill a respect for his faith whenever he spoke about it, that Tigh never would have felt right to put down those beliefs. "With all our magnificent machinery," Adama's eyes were focused on the medallion, "Can we turn our backs on the inspiration that delivered our people before?" "You think the void is a sign, then." "With all my heart. If it were not, then I truly believe a sign would have been offered to us that would have made avoiding the void a priority. But that has not happened. I believe we've been led in here for a purpose, Tigh. A purpose that will offer us the greatest hope yet for this quest we find ourselves on." Tigh picked up his chalice and calmly downed the remainder of its contents. "Adama, you know how I feel. But regardless of that, I want very much to be proved wrong. Because..." he hesitated for an instant, "Because if I am not wrong, then I fear that we face the end for all of us." Adama said nothing in response. He knew he had gone as far as he could in explaining things to Tigh. It was now a waiting game for all of them from here on. This time, Lucifer did not bother to have the command centurion accompany him into the throne room. More and more, he was finding it unnerving to leave the throne room feeling resentment, and not be able to express those feelings to someone who could understand what he was going through. Only another IL Cylon would have filled that purpose, but there was no one else from that class stationed aboard the baseship. In terms of a Cylon equal, he was completely alone and at the mercy of having to deal with the increasingly insufferable Baltar. And Lucifer already knew that by the time this next conversation came to an end, his frustration would only have increased. "By your command." The throne chair turned around, and again Baltar stared down with that disdainful expression of haughty authority. "Speak." "The news is not good, Baltar," Lucifer began. "Our scout patrols report that nothing has been launched from the Galactica since she recovered her fighters from the assault on the outpost and entered the void." "Translated, you have still not succeeded in capturing a Colonial pilot," Baltar's disdainful tone was thick. "My patience begins to wear thin, Lucifer." "So long as the Galactica does not launch any scout patrol, which is of course the prudent thing for them to do now that they are in the void, there is little chance of being able to capture one." "Then tell our patrols that its time they started making their presence known to the Galactica," Baltar said. "Instead of holding back beyond their scanner range, have them start encroaching within their scanner range. Just barely. Give them something that will cause them concern that they will have no choice but to investigate." "Baltar, you are forgetting something," Lucifer said, "We have now been forced to enter the void ourselves, and it is fast becoming impossible for us to maintain a proper fix on the Galactica and her Fleet. Especially if we are to maintain ourselves beyond their normal scanning range." "I am not interested in your excuses, Lucifer," Baltar shook his head with disgust. "I want some results. Order the patrol teams to do what I just said. And the next time you return, I expect it to be news of success." Lucifer realized there was nothing more to say. "By your command," he bowed and departed. Chapter Nine At 0700, Apollo's sleep was disturbed by the piercing chime of a telecom ringing in the Officers Barracks. He warily rose from his bunk and looked over at Starbuck, who with his face still in his pillow, was waving his hand to indicate, "You answer it." Shaking his head in amusement, the dark-haired warrior went over and grabbed it. "Yeah?" "Captain Apollo?" Cassiopeia's voice was trembling with enthusiasm. "Yeah," Apollo blinked and glanced at his chronometer which indicated it was five centars before he'd planned on arising. "This is Cassiopeia in the Life Station. Captain, we've found a cure! We found a cure for the disease!" Apollo felt all the drowsiness evaporate as he snapped to attention. "You're sure of that?" "Yes, we were up all night trying to isolate it, and then just three centars ago we found the solution! We've already begun injections of the pilots and the first signs are positive." "How positive?" Apollo wasn't ready to let himself get carried away. Experience always told him to wait to see things for himself. "We've begun taking them out of cryo-freeze," Cassiopeia said. "Boomer's awake now. You and Starbuck can come down and talk to him." Now, Apollo felt some of the excitement enter him. "We'll be right down there!" He hung up the telecom and dashed over to Starbuck's bunk, where he gave the lieutenant a hard shove. "Get up Starbuck, you're coming down to the Life Station." "Only in my dreams, Apollo," he murmured, still half in the throes of sleep. "They found the cure!" he shouted. Abruptly, Starbuck turned over and came to a sitting position. It only took two centons for him to get himself fully dressed and follow Apollo out. When they arrived in the Life Station, five centons later, they saw an exhausted Salik hunched over Boomer's support chamber, studying some new readings. When he looked up at the two warriors, both Apollo and Starbuck could see the redness in Salik's eyes that indicated he'd been up all night. "Doctor," Apollo said, "Cassiopeia said you've found a cure." "We have," Salik rose and rubbed the back of his neck. "Praise the Lords, it works. The answer was simple enough once we factored the differences in the asteroid's atmosphere." "How long will it take them to recover?" "A minimum of several cycles, perhaps a sectan to get their internal body strength back," Salik said, "You can talk to Boomer now, but make it brief. Just a couple centons." "We will," Apollo nodded as they drew up to the support chamber, while Salik moved off to the other side of the room. They looked down and saw Boomer lying on his back, eyes open and taking a number of deep breaths. He was still visibly sweating and seemed exhausted, but there was no mistaking the general look of relief on his face. "Boomer?" Apollo gently spoke. "Can you hear us?" Boomer took another deep breath. "I hear you," he whispered. "Cassiopeia....she told me what you and the others did....Taking that risk going back with all those....trainees. Thanks." "How do you feel?" Starbuck asked, thinking it almost miraculous that he could be speaking to him again. Boomer sighed. "In a word, awful," he whispered. "I feel like I swallowed a hand detonator and it imploded inside and now all my organs have shifted. And now, since the injection, I'm feeling them slowly shift back to their normal positions and it makes me want to hang my head inside a turbo-flush for the rest of my life." Apollo and Starbuck both grinned as they immediately realized Boomer was making light of the situation. He was feeling the effects of recovery, but painful as they were, it represented progress at last. "But I'll tell you this," Boomer added, "Feeling like felgercarb sure beats being dead, anytime." He paused and his eyes darted up toward Apollo. "Am I on report for not going directly to the Life Station?" "Consider all disciplinary action on that suspended indefinitely." "Thanks," Boomer managed the faintest of smiles. "I guess they also had to destroy all that ambrosia in the Club because of contamination, right?" "Just the opened bottles, from what I hear," Starbuck joshed. "I...ah...plan on making arrangements to retrieve the sealed bottles later." "You'd better save it all for us," Boomer pushed his head deeper into the pillow. "We've earned it." "You sure have," Apollo kept grinning. "We won't keep you up any longer. You keep getting your strength back, and Starbuck and I will keep looking after the squadron." "Just don't let them take our jobs permanently," Boomer kept smiling faintly, "I'm itching...to get back in there." "Won't be long," Apollo patted his hand on the glass of the support chamber. "You just hang in there, buddy. Take care." As soon as they left the Life Station, Apollo and Starbuck both let out intense sighs of relief. "Well, the worst is over." Starbuck said. "For them at least," Apollo said. "We've still got the void to deal with." "Hey, if we can conquer this disease, then what can a harmless little void ever do to us?" Starbuck pulled out a fumarello from his jacket and lit it. "First time in days one of these seem appropriate. Now what's say we head by the Officers Club and reopen it in grand fashion?" "I'm game," Apollo sighed, "Might as well live it up before we hit the simulators with the new pilots again at 1400. I'm too keyed up to go back to sleep." When they arrived at the Officers Club, which still had the residue of the now removed quarantine label clinging to the door, they saw to their surprise that it was already occupied. All five of the female pilots who had flown yesterday were there, sharing drinks and engaging in spirited discussion about the battle they had taken part in. "Look at that," Apollo whispered to Starbuck in amazement, "One day and already they're trading war stories like seasoned veterans." "Just goes to show you how one day out there changes you forever." Starbuck whispered back as they entered and picked up some drinks from the bar. They then settled themselves down in comfortable chairs across from where Serina, Brie, Dietra, Athena and Mackin were still engaging in their back and forth exchange. "....the lateral shot was what worried me the most," Serina was saying as she moved one had across in front of the other to try to duplicate what it was like. "They moved so fast across my field of vision you knew it wasn't going to blink on the attack computer so all I could do was make a guess and count down from three." "I'm glad I didn't have to try one of those," Brie said. "I didn't do so well out there." "Hey, you're alive, aren't you? That means you did fine," Mackin patted her on the shoulder and took a sip from her tankard, which caused Starbuck's eyes to widen in disbelief since from what he remembered of Mackin from the one time they had a date more than a yahren ago, she didn't drink. "Guess flying can also give you an iron stomach too," he leaned back and whispered to Apollo. "You never needed flying to give you that," Apollo nudged him as he continued to listen in. "You're right about that," Starbuck grinned as he took a puff on his fumarello. "....Simulators are one thing," Brie went on, "It's still easy to feel safe in one of those things because you know its not real and that if something goes wrong, you can shrug it off and start over. But out there," she shook her head, "you become a lot more aware of what the danger's all about." "Don't I know it," Athena chimed in, "Starting with the g-factor. The simulator doesn't really prepare you for the jolt you get riding down the launch tube." "That part was easy for me," Dietra said, "It's maintaining position with a group formation that gives me trouble. I prefer the thought of going off on single ship-to-ship engagements." On and on the conversation went, with the five women seemingly oblivious to Starbuck and Apollo's presence. Finally, the brash lieutenant spoke up slightly, "So....ah, Apollo got anything planned for your living quarters arrangements after the sealing?" At first, Apollo's eyebrows went up in bewilderment, but then he realized what Starbuck was doing. And he decided that his system could use a bit of relief. "Oh, I'm glad you asked, Starbuck!" he smiled and talked in an almost sing-song fashion. "Why, I've heard that nowadays it's possible for newly sealed couples to get two room dwellings just about anywhere they want, and they can pick their own view." "Mmmm, sounds good," Starbuck said wryly, "You'd probably need to commission a decorator, right?" "Will we!" Apollo went on, raising his voice just a bit, "You know I spent a whole centar the other day just trying to decide what color to pick for the blinds. You just can't rush these things." They then glanced over at the pilots, and they still continued to talk among themselves about the previous day's mission. Apollo decided to try again, "Oh, Starbuck! Did I mention that when I was through with the decorator, he told me how I could get my hands on a supply of....valcron?" "Valcron?" his eyebrows went up, "You mean the translucent fabric they use to make women's ahhhh......." he trailed off suggestively, and then glanced over again at the group. They were still wrapped up in their own conversation. "Maybe we're too subtle," Starbuck sighed as he leaned back and took a puff on his fumarello. "Maybe," Apollo shrugged, wondering why he was treating it as a big deal anyway. Cliques among viper pilots wasn't an uncommon experience. He'd already seen it in the voluntary segregation between Blue and Red Squadrons. Now it looked as though another clique was forming based on gender, and if that was the case there probably wasn't much that could be done about it. Finally, Serina looked up and she seemed surprised to see them both. "Oh! Apollo, Starbuck, we didn't know you'd come in." "Oh that's okay," Starbuck said wryly as he tapped the ashes of his cigar on the floor, "I'm not the kind of guy that likes to make an impression when I enter a room, right Apollo?" "Right," Apollo rolled his eyes. "Well we're just celebrating because we heard the good news about Blue Squadron and that they're going to be okay," Athena said. "We figured we owed it to them to celebrate, rather than sleep some more." "Now that I approve of," the sarcasm faded from Starbuck's voice as he smiled brightly, "The true mark of a warrior is to learn how to make this Officers Club one's real home when one is off-duty." "You had that mastered before you ever got your commission, Starbuck," Athena decided to test his reaction to getting the needle from her. How he reacted might indicate whether or not there was still hope for her as far as a relationship with Starbuck was concerned. "Hey, I wasn't about to waste my time on the mundane classes at the Academy." Starbuck just smiled and Athena instantly felt a surge of relief go through her when she saw that he'd taken it good-naturedly. "Now you and Dietra, you were both Academy graduates, right? Remember the basic general requirement courses they made us take? Specialized cooking courses for sagan's sake! Just so we could figure out how to make the most in case we ever got stranded on a planet and had to make do with the local food sources in creative ways." "I remember that," Dietra nodded, "A whole sectan learning the fine art of boiling roots to make them edible. Ugh!" "Hey that was nothing," Starbuck moved into the circle of women, "Did your class have a session on the treatment of soil slugs as a last resort? Because I skipped out on that one." "Yeah," Athena nodded. "I skipped that one too. If that's my last resort for survival, then forget it!" "Yuck, I agree with that," Mackin said with disgust. I don't believe this, Apollo thought with incredulity. Now Starbuck's worked his way in and forgotten about me! Finally, he saw Serina get up and ease her way out of the throng, so that she could come over to her fiancee. "You look like someone who feels neglected," she said sympathetically. "I guess so," Apollo admitted. She kissed him on the cheek, "Feel better?" "Yes," he smiled. "But remember, if you keep up that kind of visible fraternization with an officer, you can end up on report." "Don't worry, my captain," she dropped her voice to a whisper that no one else but Apollo could hear, "I only want to fraternize when I'm wearing some of that valcron you said you'd acquired." His eyebrows went up. "You see?" Serina smiled mischievously. "You weren't ignored after all." The two of them both laughed heartily and went over to the bar to refill their tankards. Adama had arrived on the Bridge feeling in a good mood over the news of a cure against the disease, but when he saw Tigh hunched over Omega's shoulder on the lower level, he could tell that there was considerable concern in the Executive Officer's face. "Something wrong, Colonel?" he inquired as he came over to them. "I'm not sure, Commander. Take a look at this." Adama looked at the scanner, which was clear and empty, and frowned. "I don't see anything." "Not now," Tigh admitted, "But for the last few centons, something's been popping in our rear flank scan. Just barely there for a micron, and then it was gone." Adama's eyes narrowed as he continued to look at the scanner. As though he were waiting for something to happen. And then, he saw it. At the far left of the screen, a tiny blip that appeared for a half micron. Then it was gone. "There it is again!" Tigh exclaimed. "Exactly like it's been for the last few centons." "And not visible long enough to get a scan on what it might be," the commander grunted with concern. "All right, let's first consider the natural explanations for that. Meteor?" "Unlikely, sir," Omega spoke up. "When that thing pops into the scanner its always in the same quadrant. Delta nine. If it's a meteor, it's following us." "Noted," Adama nodded, "But merely because it's following us doesn't automatically mean that's a craft of some kind. If it isn't a meteor, it could also be a comet that we can't see because there's no sun or star to shine off it and make it's tail visible." "Possible," the executive officer, "But still, there's the simple fact that if the Cylons had any ships operating in the vicinity after we destroyed the outpost, they had to have known we entered the void and it could be they've decided to take a risk pursuing us." "Dangerous move on their part, if they have tried that." Adama said, "But if it's Cylons, then why not go for the kill? Why hang back, and then just pop into range? They'd have to already know where we are and have enough time to radio back to their flagship to send out a strike force." "We can speculate all we want, Commander," Tigh pointed out, "But the bottom line is that we should send out a patrol to investigate." Adama looked at him. "I'm not keen on that idea, Tigh. Sending out vipers entails the risk that they could lose their bearings and get lost in the void altogether. And with Blue Squadron a few cycles away from recovery, I'd rather not take that risk with an experienced pilot or two." "Granted," Tigh conceded, "But Adama, if that contact is a Cylon probe, and not an attack force, then it could be that its function is to monitor us while staying in contact with its baseship. If we could eliminate that probe, then maybe the baseship, if there is one, will then lose its ability to track us further into the void." "You're dealing in a hypothetical, Colonel," Adama still wasn't convinced. "I'd need more substantive proof that it is a Cylon probe before risking the lives of at least two pilots on a mission like that." The sound of the blip caught their attention again. Their heads both darted back to the scanner and again, they saw the tiny image on the left side of the screen for two microns, and then it was gone. "Commander," Tigh pointed at the scanner, "We're going to keep seeing that thing for who knows how long, just wondering what in Hades it is, and by the time we can get a concrete answer from here using the Galactica's scanners for detailed analysis, it might be too late for us. We have to deal with that and establish what it is, now." The commander put his hands behind his back, "Very well," he finally said, "Captain Apollo and his designated wingmate will go out and investigate. I believe he's in the Officers Club celebrating the recovery of the pilots, so go down and brief him on the situation." "Yes sir," Tigh nodded and departed. Apollo and Serina had continued their quiet conversation at the other end of the Officers Club, occasionally glancing over at Starbuck who was still conversing easily with the other four pilots. "I hope he's not talking about more survival cooking preparations," Apollo quipped as he finished his tankard. "Those classes always made me want to fast for a whole sectan." "Well at least it would explain where the Galactica's Mess Hall chef got his training." Serina said lightheartedly. The Officers Club door opened and they saw Colonel Tigh enter. Dietra suddenly got to her feet and snapped to attention, and the other three female pilots, Athena, Brie and Mackin did so as well. Only Starbuck didn't get to his feet, much to the mild annoyance of the other three. "Hey relax girls, this is the Club. The Colonel knows that, right sir?" he looked over and grinned. Tigh resisted the urge to make an authoritative sounding comeback. "Starbuck, I want to talk to you and Apollo. Now." "Uh-oh, looks like I stand corrected. Well, take care girls." he waved to them. "Apollo," Serina started as Apollo left her side to follow Tigh and Starbuck out, "Wait. If this is----" He didn't stop to listen to her, and left the room. Serina let out an exasperated sigh and quickly went after him. By the time she was in the corridor, the executive officer was already deep in conversation with the two warriors as they continued to walk away. "...the order is for you and your wingmate to go out and investigate whatever it is." "Wait up!" Serina came over to them. Tigh frowned at Serina, "Serina, this is confidential information. It's for Apollo and Starbuck only." "Well just a centon," Serina said, "You said ?you and your wingmate'. Did you mean Apollo and his wingmate or Starbuck and his wingmate?" Tigh frowned. "Serina, what are you talking about?" A wave of horror passed over Apollo's face as he finally added things up. "It doesn't mean anything, Colonel. Serina, go back to the club." "No, I won't!" Serina protested. "According to the flight roster, I am Apollo's wingmate for any future engagement we go in, because standard procedure dictates assigning an experienced pilot with a trainee----" "This isn't a mission for trainees, Serina!" Apollo wheeled on her. "Colonel," Serina looked with determination at the executive officer. "Was the order for Apollo and Starbuck specifically, or was it for Apollo and his wingmate?" Tigh felt himself flush with embarrassment, "The order was for Captain Apollo and his wingmate. I just----assumed that...?" he trailed off. "Then that means that the orders posted on the flight roster would be for me, not Starbuck," Serina held her ground. "Now unless you want to waste a lot of time changing the roster and reprogramming the viper launch computers, which would be calibrated for mine, not Starbuck's----" Apollo felt all of the morning's optimism evaporating in an instant. "Colonel, you can't-----" "I'm afraid she's right, Apollo," Tigh said, "If the order's been posted, then the programming's already been set in both your ships, and it would take too much time to undo that for Starbuck's viper. And we don't have time to dawdle when it comes to finding out what's trailing our wake right now." Apollo felt helpless at this point. He angrily looked at Starbuck, who'd been silent the whole time, awkwardly shuffling his feet while the conversation went on. "Ah, look," Starbuck finally spoke up, "Let's not make a big deal about this. I'd....rather just go back to my quarters and get another centar's sleep." He patted Apollo on the shoulder, "Take care of yourself out there," he then walked away. "Starbuck..." Apollo protested. "Captain, will you drop it and pay attention to me?" Tigh didn't hide the exasperation in his voice. "We have a target that's trailing our wake and I want you and Serina to find out whether it's a natural phenomena or----" "Just a centon," Apollo cut him off, his eyes still fixed on Starbuck's retreating form down the corridor, "If Starbuck's going back to his quarters, he's not going the right----" Suddenly, Starbuck's distant form broke into a wild sprint and he disappeared from view. "That crazy madacca, he's headed for the Launch Bay!" Apollo began to sprint after him, with both Serina and Tigh following. Starbuck quickly got on the first turbo lift he could find, and as soon as it came to a stop several levels down on the flight deck, he promptly sprinted across the tarmac and dashed over to Apollo's waiting viper. Immediately, the ground CWO Jenny, who was making final adjustments at the front end, looked up at frowned. "Starbuck?" Her eyes narrowed in disbelief, "This is Apollo's ship. What are you doing?" "We switched patrols," Starbuck snatched the flight helmet from in front of the cockpit and snapped it on. He then took only five microns to lock the canopy into place. "Intercept one, launch controls now transferred to you," he heard Rigel's voice come through his helmet. "Launch when ready." Starbuck didn't bother making an acknowledgment. He immediately pressed his finger on the launch button and in an instant, had roared his way down the tube and out into the blackness of the void. He activated his auto-lock which would bring him on the pre-programmed heading toward whatever it was that needed to be investigated. It took more than three centons for another turbo lift to arrive that could take Apollo, Serina and Tigh down to the launch bay. When they got there, Apollo immediately noticed that his own viper was gone. "Felgercarb," he cursed, and dashed over to Serina's viper, "Well, like it or not Serina, he's taken it out of your hands. This is the only other viper with the programmed coordinates." "No!" Serina protested, as she grabbed him by the arm, "I'm assigned to this mission, so that means I'll just take his viper instead." "No you won't!" Apollo barked, "Now you just sit tight." Then, not wanting to leave her on an angry note, he impulsively gave her a quick kiss and embrace before hoisting himself up into the viper. "Damn it," Serina whispered in frustration as Tigh came up to her. "I'm his wingman. This is my assignment." "Serina, don't let it----" But she didn't bother to let the executive officer finish. Instead, she dashed over to the other side of the launch bay, where Starbuck's viper was. "Serina, wait!" Tigh called after, but it was to no avail. Finally, the executive officer threw up his hands in disgust and decided that his sanity dictated he get back to the Bridge. As soon as Apollo was away he immediately activated his auto lock which he knew would put him on the same course Starbuck was on. He then concentrated his scanner and to his relief saw Starbuck's viper at the edge of his scope. "Starbuck, this is Apollo. Back off on your power and let me catch up to you, or you might lose your fix on the Galactica." He didn't hear a reply. But before he could prompt him again, he then saw another viper pulling up alongside him. He already knew who it was and he felt a wave of anger go through him. "Serina, you get your tail back aboard the Galactica now!" "Not a chance, Captain," there was an air of coolness in her tone. "I'm merely following standard procedure if a scenario like this happens. I was assigned to this flight, that means I fly it even if I had to take a viper without preprogrammed coordinates. Now I suggest you give me those coordinates now for me to put into my auto-lock." Apollo felt his anger replaced by concern mixed with fear at this point. "Delta nine. But..." "Thank you," she said. "Activated and will now stay with you in formation." "No! Serina, look I know you're a good pilot. My head believes that even though my stomach doesn't, but this void can swallow up good pilots, so go back. Starbuck and I can handle this." "Quit arguing, Apollo, and start focusing on what it is the Colonel wanted us to find out." "Serina..." his protest was then cut off by Starbuck's voice, which already was surrounded by a moderate crackle of static. "Apollo, whatever the Galactica picked up is still beyond scanner range. I can't go any further without losing my fix." "Then go back." "I don't think the Commander or the Colonel would appreciate abandoning the mission objective this early in the game, Apollo," Starbuck wasn't in the mood to hear Apollo be so overly cautious. "I think a better idea would be for me to keep my fix on you, while you focus on the home base. We can double our range that way." "Starbuck?" Serina chimed in, "We could triple it if Apollo kept his fix on me, and I kept it on the Galactica." "Serina?" Starbuck was surprised to hear her voice, "That you?" "Starbuck, you just forget about checking this out yourself." Apollo deliberately ignored what his fiancee said, "You're right that this has to be checked out but if anyone's going to do this, it'll be me. I'm in command." Serina abruptly decided to stop being placid, "Apollo, there's no point in your switching positions when Starbuck is already further out and we can take care of staying in contact with the Galactica if we follow my suggestion of tripling the range! Now why don't you stop with the maudlin concern for my safety and your sense of self-sacrifice, and start making some decisions objectively like a squadron leader should!" "Serina..." Apollo angrily started but Starbuck cut him off. "I think she's right, Apollo. Anyway, consider my taking deep patrol my wedding present to the both of you. Going to turbo now and will keep my fix on you." Then, before either Apollo or Serina could reply, Starbuck had gone to his turbo and raced completely out of their field of vision into the menacing blackness of the void. Starbuck slowly exhaled as he brought his viper onto the new heading. Half of his brain was screaming at him for having done such a crazy risk of defying orders and pulling this assignment, but his memory of how Apollo had gotten lost in the void during the first encounter had weighed too heavily in the end. That had literally been the first time in the five yahrens that he'd been flying with Apollo, that he'd seen him lose his bearings and his confidence as a flyer. At the very least, Starbuck knew that when he had gone into the void he had been able to keep his wits about him a lot more effectively, and to Starbuck that meant that he had a better chance of venturing safely into the void then Apollo did. And the fact that his taking the viper would at least keep Serina out of harm's way too, only furthered that determination to do what he had just done. He activated his scanbeam so that it was focused in front of him, directing all power there for just five microns so he could an indicator of what lay out in the blackness of the void. Immediately, his blood chilled when he saw more than a dozen contacts and the warning light "Condition Red" flash on his screen. Starbuck frantically reactivated his rear scan to try and pick up Apollo but found to his horror that Apollo wasn't anywhere to be seen on his rear scanner. Frack, he thought. I lost my fix on him in just five microns. I didn't cut back on the power soon enough. Now I'm totally lost. "Apollo?" he radioed, "Can you hear me? I've got multiple contacts! And I'm pretty sure its Cylons. They might be on top of me in-----" Suddenly, he broke off when from out of the darkness, twelve Cylon fighters suddenly emerged and instantly took up a formation surrounding him that in effect, boxed him in completely. "Colonial viper," he heard the mechanical voice of a Cylon pilot come over the unicom frequency. "Slow speed to surrender. Do not attempt to escape or you will be destroyed." Starbuck leaned back in his seat and sucked in his breath. They only wanted to capture him instead of shoot him out of the sky, but he wasn't sure whether he could take comfort in that or not. It only meant that he would become a prisoner and conceivably subjected to something worse than getting blown up might be. For a micron he was tempted to just go down fighting in a blaze of glory and shoot as many Cylons as he could before he would be inevitably destroyed. But however much that impulsive act appealed to his brash instincts, he also knew from a practical standpoint that it would be a suicide serving no meaningful purpose. Better to take his chances as a prisoner for now and if necessary, commit a more meaningful act of martyrdom later. With resignation, he took up a new position and began to follow the lead column of Cylons toward whatever destination they planned to take him to. "Starbuck?" an edge of panic was entering Apollo's voice. "I couldn't make out your transmission, what was that about contacts?" He listened helplessly but heard only static. "Starbuck?" Apollo barked, "Do you copy? Answer!" he switched frequencies, "Serina, can you pick him up?" "Negative," she shook her head, "I'm getting the same thing you are. Just static." "Frack!" Apollo banged his fist against the cockpit canopy in frustration. "Galactica core command to intercept patrol," he now heard his father's voice, slightly stern. "What is your status?" Apollo warily answered, "Core command, this is Blue Leader. Lieutenant Starbuck has disappeared while investigating contact. Unable to tell whether it was due to encounter with contact or whether he lost his bearings in the void." There was a grim silence from the other end before Adama replied. "Intercept patrol, you are to return to the Galactica immediately." "Commander, give us some time to see if he can make his way back!" Apollo protested. He could hear his father take a breath, and then speak in an almost angry tone, clearly intending to intimidate Apollo with his remarks. "You may hold your position for the next five centons and see if he makes his way back to you. Under no circumstances are you to go out and investigate. And at the end of five centons, you and Serina are to return to the Galactica, and I expect you to follow that order to the letter, Captain!" "Understood," Apollo nodded, his voice totally obedient. "Will hold position for five centons and then return if no change in situation." For the next five centons, there was a helpless silence between Apollo and Serina as they continued to listen and watch, hoping that they would see or hear Starbuck returning. But after the time had expired, there was no change and with that, Apollo reluctantly turned his viper around. "I'm following you in, Serina," his tone was deflated. There was no response from his fiancee, who was trying not to tear up at that instant. For the both of them, the sadness they felt as they made their way back to the Galactica was the greatest they had felt since the Destruction one sectar before. Chapter Ten Ten centons went by before Starbuck finally saw it. The menacing form of a Cylon baseship, which was clearly his final destination. Seeing it so close immediately reminded him of Carillon, one sectar before, when he, Apollo and Commander Fairfax had made the tricky deception that had forced the baseship down to the surface and contributed to its destruction. But at the cost of the Columbia commander's life as it had finally turned out. Too bad they're not above a planet surface about to blow up this time, Starbuck thought. Then I know I'd do the same thing Fairfax did and just drop on them viper and all. For now though, it was clear that he needed to just stay alive and wait for a better opportunity. He guided his viper into the recessed opening on the upper section of the baseship where the rest of the Cylon fighters were landing. Instantly, Starbuck marveled at how wider the landing space was then the Galactica's landing bays, which he realized was done so the Cylons could launch a mass attack more quickly, which was the only kind of attack they knew how to specialize in. As soon as he was inside though, he could see that the advantage in a wider zone of takeoff and landing, was largely negated by the fact that all ships would usually come in packed together at the same time on some narrow tarmac space for final landing. Even so, he had no difficulty bringing his viper to a stop, sandwiched between two other Cylon craft. For a long time, Starbuck remained motionless in his cockpit, not bothering to open his canopy or take off his helmet, and not even looking anywhere but straight ahead. Directly in front of him was the cylindrical hub of the central core which connected the top and lower sections of the baseship. So that's how they assemble these things together, he thought. He'd always found it amazing that even though the war between humans and Cylons had gone on for nearly 1000 yahrens, human intelligence on the nature of a Cylon baseship and what comprised its inner workings, had long been vague and sketchy. Then, he inwardly cursed as he remembered that if he was going to be a prisoner who harbored hope of survival and eventual return to the Galactica, the sooner he started taking better notice of his surroundings, the better. He looked over to his right and saw standing on the tarmac, two centurions with weapons pointed up at him. But what puzzled Starbuck was the sight of the other Cylon standing behind the two centurions. It was a Cylon robot Starbuck had never seen the likes of before. This one was taller than the centurions, with a bulbous head and a long red robe that covered its main frame. Clearly, this one belonged to a more advanced class of Cylons than the typical centurion did. Cautiously, he opened his canopy and removed his helmet, staring down at them coldly, refusing to speak first. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," the tall robot spoke, "If you will come down and accompany us." Starbuck's eyebrows went up as he heard normal human speech emanate from the tall robot, and not the usual mechanical, robotic sound that he was already used to hearing from Cylon centurions. That was something he never thought Cylons would have been smart enough to develop for themselves. He decided to save his quips and cutting remarks for the moment, and hopped down to the tarmac. Immediately, the two centurions shoved their pistols into his side. "Ah, ah," he held up his hands, "I bruise easy." Immediately, Lucifer found himself impressed with the young warrior. Making a joke at a moment when a lesser human would be inclined to quiver in fear. When he had the chance he knew he'd want to have a long probing conversation with this one, just to compare the differences between him and Baltar. "You will hardly be bruised, Lieutenant," Lucifer spoke, "Our commander wishes to speak with you." "Well, you might as well tell him that I won't be good for stimulating conversation," Starbuck said, deciding now was the time to project all the brashness he was capable of summoning, "Because you see, I only plan on telling him three things. One, my name's Starbuck, two, my rank is Lieutenant, and three, my commission number is 751958." "Hmmm," Lucifer mused aloud. "I...have a feeling that might change, once you meet our commander." Starbuck looked at him quizzically, "You mean there are actually Cylons with charisma now?" he increased the cockiness in his tone, "That'd be a first." Lucifer shook his head in amazement. Already he was convinced that if human leadership had possessed the qualities of brashness and courage this Starbuck so readily demonstrated, then the easy destruction of human civilization would not have been a forgone conclusion. "Come this way, Lieutenant." The IL Cylon motioned. "Hey, does this mean I get the grand tour or something?" Starbuck decided he might as well keep it up for now. Clearly they weren't going to kill him now just for insulting them. "Not too extensive, Lieutenant," Lucifer said as he lead Starbuck and the two centurions into a turbo lift in the central core shaft. They rode it down for only several microns and then the doors opened. Starbuck looked about and was struck by how much wider the corridors were than on the Galactica. Yet despite the fact they could easily accommodate more equipment to be put in place, the corridors were nothing more than empty walls on all sides. They reached a set of transparent doors that Starbuck noticed lead into a vast, high ceiling chamber, which to the warrior's amazement was empty save for a large pedestal in the middle. "I'll tell you something," Starbuck said as they entered the chamber, "I like the way you guys don't go overboard on furniture." Lucifer looked at him and decided it was time to test the warrior's reaction further. "Things would go better for you Lieutenant, if you would just show a little more respect." Starbuck looked at him nonchalantly and then pulled out a fumarello from his pocket. He stuck it in his mouth and then with equal nonchalance, struck a match against one of the two centurions. "You mean things could get worse?" his tone stayed casual as he lit his cigar and took a puff. Incredible, Lucifer was almost awed. He found himself wishing that Baltar had been more like this one. A human like Starbuck offered possibilities for seemingly limitless conversation that he could enjoy. "That all depends," Lucifer said and then looked up at the throne chair. "By your command. We have captured a pilot from the Galactica as ordered. Lieutenant Starbuck is his name." The chair turned around and now for the first time Starbuck had a view of the occupant perched high above him. And when he immediately recognized him, the fumarello almost fell out of his mouth in disbelief. "Lieutenant Starbuck," Baltar smiled cordially at him. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Starbuck now found his dangling cigar a distraction and he dropped it to the floor, crushing it under his boot, which was exactly what he wished he could do to the person he now faced. "Baltar," he whispered, "You lying, traitorous piece of bilge scum. I should have known you'd now be in charge of some set-up like this after what you did!" He took a step toward him, "Right now, I'd trade my life for just one shot at you." Baltar was non-plussed by Starbuck's remarks. They were to be expected. "Lieutenant," he said with the almost gentle reproach of a school headmaster, "You will in due time come to understand that your feelings of hate are misplaced. I had nothing to do with the destruction of the Colonies." "Oh right," Starbuck's voice dripped with sarcasm, "You just decided to hop off the Atlantia for a little joyride in space a centon before the attack force came down on us, right?" "I too was a victim, Lieutenant," Baltar went on, avoiding Starbuck's question since he knew that no explanation he tried to come up with could ever sound credible on that point. "Used by the Imperious Leader for his own selfish and evil purposes. The price I paid in suffering was no less than yours or anyone else's." "Yeah, you sure look like a victim right now, sitting all so high and mighty on that throne chair. If being a victim is what it takes to get command of a baseship, mind telling me how I can sign up for my own command?" "There have been some changes in the Cylon Empire since that tragedy, Lieutenant. Changes most favorable to humans and their predicament. That is why I find myself in this position now. Spared, thanks to the generosity of the new Cylon Imperious Leader." Starbuck's angry, bitter expression now turned into a frown. "New Imperious Leader?" "Yes," Baltar nodded, "The Leader who was responsible for the destruction of the Colonies, the one who duped us all out of his mad desire for power is dead. Killed by his own foolish folly at Carillon." For the first time, the brash Lieutenant had been left speechless. If what Baltar said was true, then that meant that the baseship he and Apollo and Commander Fairfax had taken out at Carillon had been the Cylon ruler's. A dividend that none of them ever would have expected, and one that now made him feel more proud of the accomplishment. "I can tell you're impressed by this news," Baltar continued to smile, "Perhaps that will convince you of what I say?" Starbuck snapped himself out of his reverie concerning Carillon and the destruction of the baseship. "Not exactly," the skepticism and sarcasm had returned part way to his voice. "Maybe you could do that by just letting me go back to the Galactica to tell them all this wonderful news you're bringing?" "In time, Lieutenant," the traitor said warmly. "And when that time comes you may tell them that I come with an offer of peace that is truly genuine this time. The new Imperious Leader is by far the most enlightened species of Cylon ever produced. He, like all of those who serve aboard this ship, wishes only to be our friend." "Seems to me I've heard that one before from you, Baltar." Starbuck felt all his skepticism restored at this point. The manner in which Baltar talked was exactly the way he'd heard the traitor speak about peace offerings so many times in public speeches and BNC interviews for sectars leading up to the Holocaust. About how he had spoken personally with the Imperious Leader and that the Cylon ruler's desire for peace and friendship was genuine in every sense. "Why would I offer something you would have no instinctive reason for believing, unless it were true, Lieutenant?" Baltar gently reproached again. "Think about that." "Thinking about you isn't how I like to pass my time," Starbuck shot back. Baltar ignored the barb and then spoke to the two centurions. "Take him below. See that he's fed and kept comfortable. Normal procedures regarding prisoner treatment do not apply in this instance." "Translated, you've probably got some new torture methods in mind, right Baltar?" Starbuck said sarcastically. "Won't do you any good, I took a whole course in resistance at the Academy." The two centurions then prodded him toward the door with their pointed weapons, and Starbuck suddenly felt the need to say once again. "Hey, I told you guys I bruised easily. Didn't they install ears in your helmets?" As soon as Starbuck and the two centurions were gone, Lucifer looked back up at Baltar, and when he spoke it was full of bewilderment. "This is your plan for capturing the Galactica? To convince them that we now come bearing the twig of peace under our new leader?" Baltar didn't bat an eye as he nodded, "Yes." "It is illogical to assume they would ever trust you again, Baltar. To pass yourself off as a victim rings very hollow since you could not even answer the Lieutenant's question regarding your leaving the Colonial Fleet before the attack began." "A trifling detail that is irrelevant in the end, Lucifer." Baltar waved his hand disdainfully. "What you underestimate is the human need for hope. Properly presented and at a propitious centon, they will come willingly to my arms. And then, the final destruction of humanity will have been made possible without any battle, and without any debilitating loss of Cylon personnel. That is an outcome your Leader would prefer to a rash engagement and you know that, Lucifer." Unfortunately, Lucifer almost groaned inwardly. It was all Baltar needed to keep the upper hand for now. "Maintain our discrete pursuit of the Galactica." Baltar continued. "The Lieutenant will be of use to us at the proper time, but that has not yet come. In the meantime, you are to make him feel as though he is our guest, not our prisoner." "Of course," Lucifer bowed, "I will attend to that, Baltar." It was by far an order from Baltar that Lucifer was glad to carry out. As he left the chamber, the only thing that went through his mind, was the thought of how conversing with this Starbuck might be what he needed to restore his inner sanity at this point. When Apollo and Serina returned to the Galactica, both were too stunned by what had happened to say anything to each other. Apollo had then gone straight to the bridge where Serina knew he was going to spend the next several centars looking at the scanner to see if Starbuck would find his way back. She decided to leave him be for the duration. After five centars though, Serina knew that if Starbuck was still flying, his fuel would be almost exhausted from what had only been planned as a short-range flight. And during that time, she had done a good deal of soul-searching of her own, and decided that now was the time to do what she could to not only ease Apollo's grief, but to end some additional feelings of torment that had come over her with the realization that Starbuck was gone. Because losing Starbuck made it all to easy for her to see how she could easily lose Apollo in an instant as well. She arrived on the bridge and saw that her fiancee was hunched over a scanner at an otherwise unoccupied auxiliary station. She came up to Rigel first, whose expression was somber. "Anything happen?" "No," she shook her head. "Has he been there the whole time?" "He hasn't budged a millimetron since he came down here." Rigel paused. "I think you'd better talk to him." "I intend to." She came over to him, and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "Apollo?" There was no response from him at first. He seemed oblivious to her presence. "Apollo, how long are you just going to stand there looking at that scanner?" Apollo finally let out a sad sigh, "I don't know," he whispered. "I just don't know." "You can't look forever." she paused, "You know, you and I, we're both supposed to be doing more flight training right now." "I already talked to Killian. He said he could handle them all today." "Okay," she tried to find that difficult blend between gentleness and firmness. "But Apollo....you're just going to have to start....accepting things." "I know, I know," Apollo said and then let out another sad sigh, "It's just that.....I can't believe he's gone. After all I went through last sectar with Zac and Mother, to then have to go through this again with Starbuck." Serina put her arm around his shoulder so she could draw closer to him. "He was even more of a brother to you than Zac was, right?" Her fiancee nodded. Serina took a breath to summon all her inner strength. "Apollo....I'd come to love him the same way in just a sectar. As a brother. That's why....I think he'd understand and approve." For the first time, Apollo looked at her. "Understand? Approve? What do you mean?" She took another breath, "Apollo, marry me tonight. Let's....move everything up to tonight and just go ahead with it." Apollo was taken aback as he rose to his full posture. "Serina, what are you saying? That we should just suddenly get married right now in the middle of-----" "In the middle of what?" she interrupted, "A void? A disaster? An endless night? Apollo, do you have any idea of what we've had to go through in just the last day alone? I've suddenly gone from a rookie shuttle pilot to a veteran combat flyer, and now we've lost Starbuck, and we're headed into....who knows what else that might finally mean the end for you or me, or the whole Fleet. But to me, that's a reason why we should go ahead with it now. Because I've spent the last five centars since we got back wondering if two more sectans means waiting for a time that will never come for you and me. That's why...." she now found herself choking back a sob in her voice, "That's why I want us to be married now." Apollo began to absently pace a few steps away from her, feeling torn between his sense of duty that told him it was crazy to think of his own happiness first in the midst of tragedy and disaster. And yet, he also could remember Starbuck's conversation with him the previous night when the brash lieutenant had been making the very same suggestion to him. Maybe there was something to be said for Starbuck's philosophy of living for today just in case tomorrow never came. "Serina," he began awkwardly, "I..." then he stopped, still feeling torn between the two perspectives. Serina folded her arms and decided she needed to push him further, "Apollo, do you love me?" He stiffened slightly, "Do I have to marry you tonight just to prove that to you, Serina?" "No," she shook her head and realized she'd gone too far, "I'm sorry I said that. It's just....I want every centon we have left with each other. And if.....the worst ever happened, then I know I could at least have no regrets in my life. That's all." She paused, "Maybe it's selfish of me, Apollo. And maybe there'll be people who'll think it's in bad taste to want to do it the same day Starbuck dies, but....I don't care. I want this for both of us so much that I just....can't wait for it any longer." She then looked him in the eye, "Can you?" Apollo came back up to her so that they were now inches apart. He then slowly shook his head, "No," he whispered, "I can't. Because I want it to be now, too." And then, with no regard whatsoever for the fact that they were on the bridge, they met in a long embrace and kiss. A centar later, they were in Adama's quarters explaining their decision. "Can it be done tonight, Father?" Apollo asked. "Would it...cause any undue complications?" His father was still slightly taken aback over this development. "Well....actually, no. Not if the situation remains the same. Whatever that....contact was, it hasn't made any reappearance since you both returned." "We can do it in the Great Hall then? That is where we wanted it done, but if that's not feasible...." "It's feasible." Adama cut him off, then phrased his next question delicately, "Did you mention this to Athena?" "No," Apollo shook his head, "I felt it was more important to ask you first." "It may be more important to ask her if she's up to being a bridesmaid tonight," Adama said, his tone still delicate. "She...hasn't exactly been in good spirits since this morning." Apollo and Serina both suddenly flushed red with embarrassment, "Oh Good Lords of Kobol, I'd completely forgotten." Apollo felt ready to lower his head in shame. "All this time, I've been brooding about Starbuck and I'd forgotten that she'd be-----" "I'll talk to her, Adama," Serina spoke up, "And you're right, we should have spoken to her first. If she....doesn't feel up to it, I'm willing to let it wait until tomorrow night to give her more time to recover." "It's ultimately your decision and Apollo's, Serina," Adama rose, "I wouldn't let Athena's feelings dictate matters. I just... think it's important that you be aware of them. That's all." "Of course," his son nodded, "We'll take care of that right away." "Apollo, I'd better do it alone." Serina held up a hand. "I'll be back as soon as I'm done." Before either Adama or Apollo could say anything else, she had left the room. Apollo awkwardly sat down across from his father, whose expression was largely neutral. "Father," he said, "I'm sorry. I....guess that's always been my biggest problem since I was a kid. Never getting along with Athena or Zac that much, it....always means I never instinctively give any thought to what either of them might be going through during a tragedy. I....should have gone to see her right after I got back. Instead, I just let myself get wrapped up in my own sorrow about what Starbuck meant to me." Adama folded his arms, "I'm glad you realize that, Apollo," he said quietly. "Never let yourself forget that little insight from here on." "I won't," he nodded, "I won't." "It's been hard for me too." Adama said, "Starbuck was...about as close to a third son as I ever could have had. That's why it wasn't easy to have to give you that order to return." "You did the right thing," his son nodded, "There's...no point in my throwing away my own life needlessly. Starbuck... wouldn't have wanted that." "No," his father agreed, "He wouldn't have." he paused, "Do you blame me in any way for his disappearance, Apollo?" Apollo frowned, "Why would I?" "It was my decision to take us into the void," Adama decided there could be no stones left unturned at a time like this. "Some could argue that that decision was what lead to his disappearance ultimately." "If there are, I'm not one of them, Father," Apollo said forcefully. "I know the burdens you have to go through as our commander and our leader. I know that your decisions are based on what's best for our people, and if you believe that being in the void is ultimately better than taking our chances with what might have come after we destroyed the outpost, I respect your decision on that point." "But it isn't what you might have done?" "Father, I'm not in your position. I can have ideas of what I might have done if I had my druthers, but I don't have the burdens of making those ultimate decisions." He paused, "Besides, you already proved me wrong yesterday when it came to having the trainees go on that mission against the outpost." "So I did," Adama admitted, "Serina's....shown quite a lot of natural skill for someone who never got into a cockpit until yesterday." "She has. It surprised me too, but I think she can really become a good pilot full-time." "You're willing to accept her as that? No more looking for loopholes to get her back to less hazardous duties?" "No," Apollo shook his head, "I accept her for what she wants to be and what she's capable of doing. That's why we can both go ahead with our marriage right now with no doubts." Another few centons went by and Serina returned, looking somewhat relieved. "I talked to Athena," she said, "She said she understands the way we feel about wanting to be married now, and she has no problem with it. She wants to take part in the ceremony tonight." "How did she seem?" "What you'd expect from someone who lost someone they love," Serina said. "But she's not hysterical or anything like that. And she doesn't want to be the cause of our not going forward tonight, if that's what's worrying us." She paused, "Your sister's a very strong person, Apollo." "She is," Apollo nodded. "Well in that case, I don't think we need to worry anymore about whether this is the right decision or not," for the first time Adama tried to inject a brighter edge into his tone. "Assuming our situation remains stable, I'll begin seeing to the preparations for tonight." He then paused, "And let me just say to the both of you, that I know the blessings of the Lords will be with you both as you do this." The two of them smiled in acknowledgment and then left. As soon as it was evening by the official Fleet chronometer (which remained set to Caprican Standard Time), a group of ten people gathered themselves in the Galactica's Great Hall, the site for all formal ceremonies and where Adama had one sectar before made his announcement about leading the Fleet to a lost brother colony on a planet called Earth. On this evening though, the ceremony was of a different kind. One that Adama saw as providing a brief interlude of hope amidst the darkness and uncertainties of the last few days. On the left side of the chamber stood the four female pilots of Blue Squadron, each of them in dress uniform. Athena stood on the end of the row, her expression largely somber in light of the grieving she had gone through for Starbuck, but mixed with that was a determination to perform her duties as bridesmaid, and so far she had been a steady rock the entire evening. Next to Athena, smartly attired in a blue tunic that resembled a bridge personnel uniform, was a beaming Boxey. The little boy was perhaps the only person in the room oblivious to the unease and tension felt by everyone over the void and the Cylon pursuit, and it only served to increase the joy he felt over the ceremony and how for the first time in his life he would be gaining a real father. Finally, next to Boxey was Serina. Looking as radiant as any woman could be in her light gold sealing gown. And next to her, wearing an uncharacteristic special dark blue dress uniform that most flight warriors never wore more than once in their lifetimes, stood a confident, smiling Apollo. There were fewer people on the right side of the chamber, as this would ordinarily have been where Apollo's friends from Blue Squadron would have stood, with Starbuck standing next to him as best man. But all of Blue Squadron's pilots were still recovering in the Life Station and could only express their congratulations through their support chambers when Apollo had stopped by earlier in the day. So on this evening, Apollo found himself flanked only by Colonel Tigh, who was there as Adama's guest, and Captain Killian, whom Apollo had asked at the last centar to act as a best man stand-in. Although not certain at first whether it was proper for him to accept such a request, Apollo had won Killian over with a simple appeal to the fact that he now considered it an honor to have flown with him on the recent mission, and that he wanted to use the occasion as an opportunity to break down some of the barriers that still existed between the Galactica and Columbia pilots. Apollo's sincerity had touched Red Leader deeply and he had returned the honor by showing up with a Galactica insignia hastily affixed to his uniform in place of his usual Columbia one. At the center, between Apollo and Serina, stood Adama, with a copy of the Book of the Word at his side. As a battlestar commander, Adama had the right to perform any sealing ceremony, and he had done so on many occasion over the past twenty yahrens. But while he knew the words by heart, he nonetheless wondered if his own sense of pride and joy would cause him to stumble over any of the familiar words. Mercifully, he'd been proved wrong and he'd gone through the opening remarks with total ease. Now, he turned to his left to face Boxey, who continued to beam with enthusiasm. "Will Serina's protector consent to relinquishing his responsibilities to Apollo, the man she has consented to marry?" Some of the spectators wondered if Boxey would have been so awestruck by the ceremony that someone would have had to nudge him at this point. But the little boy needed no prompting as he looked up at his parents and said simply, "Yes." Technically, the words that should have been spoken would have been, "I do consent", but Adama had already decided long ago that a simple yes from Boxey would sound more from the heart than some words that he'd need to have taught to him, so he hadn't bothered to give Boxey that complex set of instructions. And just as Adama had figured, Boxey's simple word expressed all the joy that everyone knew was going through him at that instant. "Apollo, will you at this time state your vow of devotion unto Serina?" Apollo and Serina now turned to face each other, and they clasped hands. "I pledge myself unto Serina as her husband for all time, unto the rest of my life. I pledge before the Lords of Kobol to protect her and give my undivided love and devotion to her, so that I may be truly worthy of this great responsibility." "Serina, will you at this time state your vow of devotion unto Apollo?" Serina clasped Apollo's hands even tighter. "I pledge myself unto Apollo as his wife for all time, unto the rest of my life. I pledge before the Lords to honor him and to give him my undivided love and devotion so that I may be truly worthy of this great responsibility." And then, Adama removed the ceremonial Council medallion from his neck and wrapped it about their wrists according to the ancient tradition. "These simple words are the most powerful in the universe. They seal a union between this man and this woman, which is not only for now but for all eternity." The commander skipped a beat as he stopped to smile ever so faintly at them before continuing. And letting himself have just an instant to let his mind say, Ila my darling, how I wish you were here to see this. "Apollo, Serina. Under the eyes of God, and bound by the symbol of the faith of the Lords of Kobol, I declare you sealed." With that declaration, Apollo and Serina came together in a gentle kiss. For almost a centon it went on, and the scene became almost totally surreal, with the other eight people in the room watching them amidst the dim candlelight of the Great Hall. And then....the scene suddenly took on a greater quality of surrealness when on the main viewing screen at the far end of the Great Hall, which had remained dark the whole time because of the void, suddenly pulsed brightly. "What the..." Colonel Tigh turned around and was the first to react with surprise. Soon, everyone else in the room, including the newly married couple, was staring out the screen at the pulsing brightness of a single star. "What is it?" Athena managed to speak, just barely above a whisper because she found herself awed by the sight. "The end of the void?" "More than that," Adama said with the most reverent look of excitement on his face. "The answer to what we've been looking for!" Tigh's head darted back to the commander as he suddenly recalled the conversation they'd shared the previous night. "Colonel," Adama could barely contain his excitement, "Notify the bridge to scan for a planetary system within three parsecs of the star. They should find indications of a dead star and one planet orbiting the dead star." "A planet?" Apollo whispered as Tigh hurriedly went over to the telecom unit on the other side of the room. "Yes," Adama continued to look at the pulsing brightness of the single star. "If I'm right, it's the planet Kobol." "Kobol?" Serina said with amazement as she took her new husband by the arm. "You mean....the mother world itself?" "Yes," Adama's reverent air increased to a level that even Apollo could not recall seeing in him before, "Where all human life began." All eyes remained fixed on the sight as Tigh returned from the telecom unit. "Commander, you were right," he was totally incredulous. "Scan reveals a dead star three parsecs from this star, and one planet orbiting the dead star." "Estimate time to arrival to planet?" "One full cycle at present speed." "Have the Fleet plot immediate course for the planet, Colonel." Adama finally managed to pull his eyes away from the sight and get some of his command bearings back. "Inform the Fleet to resume all normal shuttle activities now that the star is there to act as a beacon for us." "Yes sir," Tigh nodded, and then stopped to shake hands with Apollo and Serina. "Apollo, Serina. Congratulations." "Thank you, sir," Apollo said gratefully, as he and Serina continued to look out in awed fascination at the sight, their arms locked in each other. "It's incredible," the reverence was deep in Serina's voice, "It's almost like....seeing a divine vision in a way." "You're right, Serina," Adama said, "That star we see now, is the star that led our ancestors out of the void when they left the mother planet. It was the very divine gift they needed to assure the survival of human civilization." He paused, "And hopefully it will now provide that gift to us again." Apollo and Serina looked at him with slight puzzlement, "What do you mean, Comm...", Serina started then caught herself, "Father?" Adama looked at her and smiled, glad that she had remembered. "In due time, when we send a scouting party to the surface of the planet. I suggest that in the meantime, the two of you enjoy your first night together as a married couple." His son's lips faintly curled up in a smile, and he wrapped his arm around his new bride, pulling her tight to him. Then, they turned away from the screen, and slowly made their way out of the Great Hall, stopping briefly to shake hands with the others who by now, were only able to offer quick congratulations. All of them still seemed completely captivated by the pulsing brightness of the single star. When they reached the end of the Hall, Serina found herself smiling impishly at her husband, "Well, my captain," she said, "It looks as if we were upstaged a bit." "Looks that way," he returned the smile and looked back at the screen at the other end of the Hall. "But at least the timing was nice in that it didn't appear until after the ceremony was officially done." "Maybe that's all the more reason to think it's truly a divine sign," Serina looked back as well, her tone suddenly reverent again. Apollo was struck by how she managed to sound as reverent as his father had. In the sectar that he had come to know Serina, he had never before seen this side to her. While Apollo had always taught himself to honor the faith his parents had raised him in, he had never devoted himself to it with the same vigor his father did, and as a consequence he had never really bothered to probe Serina too much for her feelings on faith and religion. Now, he was discovering for the first time just how deep her own sense of faith really was. "Come on," he smiled as he took her by the arm again, "You heard the commander give us an order. We're to enjoy our first night together as a married couple." She looked back at him and the mischievous smile suddenly returned, "It will be my pleasure, my captain." And then, arm-in-arm, they left the Great Hall. Chapter Eleven After being removed from the throne room, Starbuck had been taken down two levels to what he immediately recognized as a holding area for prisoners. What wasn't normal about the site though, was that a small cot, a table and two chairs had been set up. From what he recalled from intelligence briefings, Cylon holding areas were always spartan and empty, designed to force the prisoner to stay on his feet at all times. At the very least, if Baltar was selling him a bill of goods, he wasn't tipping his hand yet. "I think I take back what I said upstairs," Starbuck said as he sat down at one of the chairs behind the table, "I do like the way you've gone overboard on furniture." "Centurions," Lucifer turned to the two who had escorted Starbuck down, "Leave us for now. Wait outside the holding area at all times in case you are needed." "By your command," the lead one nodded and with his fellow centurion accompanying him, they left the room, leaving the IL Cylon alone with the prisoner. "So tell me, Lieutenant," Lucifer said as he eyed Starbuck, "What are your impressions of our commander?" Starbuck looked at him with amusement, "What do I get for giving an honest answer?" "There is nothing to give at this point, Lieutenant. As our commander has said, you are not to be tortured but to be treated as our guest. So as such, this conversation serves no purpose other than an intellectual exercise for myself." "Ahh," Starbuck nodded in understanding, "In other words when it comes to humans, Baltar doesn't give you enough of an intellectual exercise?" Lucifer found his admiration for Starbuck increasing by the micron, and his latest remark only confirmed every instinct he'd been developing. "Hmmm. Perhaps I should say that since Baltar is the first human I have ever met, he has left me hoping that he is not....typical." "I can confirm that for you," Starbuck leaned back and pulled out another fumarello. "Do you mind the smell of these things?" "An illogical question, Lieutenant, since as I am sure you are aware we Cylons do not have the needless sensation of smell." "Sorry, just figured that since you're the first Cylon who actually talks normal you might have some more normal features built in," Starbuck shrugged as he lit a match and took a puff. "Actually Lieutenant, what you call ?normal speech' has always been part of the advanced class of Cylons, including all civilians." Lucifer ordinarily wouldn't have dared reveal such a piece of information about Cylon culture to any human, but he saw it as a triviality in the broader scheme of things. "Really?" the blonde lieutenant took another puff and raised his eyebrows, "And here I was thinking that some of you Cylons got bored after a thousand yahrens of hearing all your centurions sound alike. You know I can still remember the first time I heard a centurion talk on tapes at my Academy class." He suddenly got to his feet, and assumed a stiff posture, his arms locked to his sides. "?By your command. All humans must die.'" his voice became a flat, robotic monotone as he mimicked the speech patterns of a centurion. "I couldn't stop laughing for a centar after I heard that for the first time." he chuckled as he relaxed and resumed his seat. "Centurions are hardly the backbone of this Empire, Lieutenant," Lucifer said, almost wishing that he'd been programmed to laugh, "We need not waste vital resources by giving them advanced speech patterns." "What is the backbone of the Empire?" Starbuck's tone suddenly became serious, indicating that this was something he was genuinely interested in. "I don't believe that information should be made available to you." "Why not?" Starbuck gently retorted. "Does that mean what Baltar said about you guys being our friends isn't true after all?" Ingenious, Lucifer thought. Starbuck's relaxed air had managed to get Lucifer to let his guard down, and he realized that he needed to compensate for that fast. It was clear to the IL, that Starbuck's bravado masked a cunning brilliance underneath that made him a foe to be reckoned with. "Not at all, Lieutenant," Lucifer tried to sound disarming, "Old habits die hard. As to the backbone of our Empire, that would be our civilian class and those advanced brain Cylons like myself, who enjoy the full benefits of Cylon society." "What are the benefits of Cylon society?" Starbuck prodded, "I mean, what exactly does a Cylon like you do in your neatly ordered worlds?" "We have plenty of means of stimulating ourselves, Lieutenant," Lucifer decided it was best to be as open as he could with Starbuck. If Baltar suspected that anything Lucifer said had caused Starbuck to continue doubting his peace offering, then he could easily imagine Baltar making a report to the Imperious Leader that would not look favorably upon him. "Do you," Starbuck took another puff, "Okay, what's a Cylon's favorite form of recreation?" "Pure intellectual contemplation, Lieutenant. Utilizing the gift of our second brain to the fullest capacity." "Sounds incredibly dull." "To your human mind, perhaps. But only those who possess a second brain can ever know what it's like to experience the stimulation of total meditative contemplation." "A good Pyramid game is the best kind of stimulation I know of," Starbuck said disdainfully with a wave of his hand. "Really," Lucifer said, "And how does this....Pyramid game as you call it, provide stimulation to humans?" Starbuck suddenly broke into a grin. "I was hoping you'd ask that," he said as he pulled out a pack of pyramid cards from the pocket of his jacket. "What's say you get a chance to find out?" Apollo and Serina awoke, both in a state of bliss after a night of almost uninterrupted lovemaking. As Apollo rubbed his eyes, he could see that the pulsing brightness of the star was shining more brightly through the porthole of their quarters. "Good morning, my captain," Serina whispered throatily as she kissed him on the neck and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. "Good morning," Apollo took her hand and kissed it, as he continued to stare out the porthole. "Looks like we covered a lot of distance last night to be this close to it now." "Seems that way," she nodded as she came to a sitting position and joined him in looking at the star. "It seems like Adama knew it would be here, and that's why he took us into the void." "Yeah," Apollo nodded, "And to think that we're actually going to see Kobol itself. Who only knows what kind of things there are to see down there." "Too bad this isn't peacetime," Serina sighed, "Discovering Kobol would have ordinarily been the greatest scientific story of the millennia." "That's so true," her husband sighed, "And if this were peacetime, I would have been at the head of the expedition that found it." She looked at him with slight surprise, "You mean you never would have been a warrior?" "No," he shook his head, "Not in a million yahrens. The only reason why I ever became one was because I felt a sense of duty and obligation. What I really wanted to be most was a historian or a scientist studying the past." he paused, "But I just couldn't bring myself to not enter the service when the time came. Maybe if I wasn't Adama's son and just came from a non-military background it would have been different, but....I had to learn a lesson about how the things we want to do, aren't necessarily the things that Fate has intended for us." He paused, "But I guess that's a lesson we've all had to learn about this last sectar." "I know," his wife admitted, fascinated by this revelation. "And sometimes....that same....fate if you will, leads us into things that we could never have expected all in the name of a greater good." "Like that star appearing?" "Perhaps," she admitted, "I....was kind of thinking more about how....we came together." "What do you mean?" Serina let out a sigh, "Apollo, I never thought I'd find myself telling you this, but did you ever wonder why it was that I sought you out after we were all loaded aboard the Fleet following the Destruction?" "Because Boxey was upset about losing his daggit and you thought I could help him." "That was only half the reason, Apollo," Serina said. "When I sought you out, I thought I was dying at the time." Apollo's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Dying?" "My practitioner back on Caprica had given me a diagnosis saying I was suffering from a malignant brain tumor with a 25 percent chance of survival." Serina said, glad she was finally getting this off her chest. Being married to Apollo now made her determined to keep no secrets from him, ever. "And I thought that there was no way I could ever get that treated, and so I was worried about where Boxey would end up, and....after I saw the way you were so kind to him on Caprica when he wanted a look at your viper, I....instinctively zeroed in on you as the man I hoped would look after him once I was.....gone." A look of concern came over Apollo's face, "But you aren't really....that is....." "No, no," she hastily cut him off, "After I sought you out, I went down to see Salik, and he ended up telling me that the diagnosis was a fraud. My practitioner it turns out, was a crook who had a known record of giving phony diagnoses to his patients in order to make them pay exorbitant sums for operations and treatments they never needed. Once he had enough, he was hoping he'd be able to disappear into a life of total luxury, but the Cylons ended up disrupting his plans." "That's sick," Apollo shook his head in disgust, "I hope that practitioner was one of the victims." "The Ovions got him," Serina said, "I saw him on Carillon later, and then I found out he was among those who had disappeared in the mining levels." "Served him right," Apollo said, shuddering as he recalled the horrible sight of the Ovion pod chambers. "True," Serina said, "But look at it this way, Apollo. If it weren't for him, I never would have bothered seeking you out the way I did. And then....I wouldn't have had the chance to fall in love with you after I realized it was safe for me to do that." She looked back out at the star, "I guess it's things like that that have always made me reject skepticism when it comes to matters of faith. It's not that I consider myself a paragon of total virtue when it comes to everything the Book of the Word teaches, it's just that.....I've always known in my heart that there's something very real behind all of those teachings." Before Apollo could say anything else, he heard the telecom chime. He got out of bed and went over to answer it. "Hello?" A half centon went by as he listened and then he nodded, "We'll be there." "What was that?" Serina asked as she threw back the sheets and stepped out of bed. "Adama wants to see us both in a centar about going down to the surface of Kobol." he smiled, "There's some interesting background material he wants to fill us in on." Serina looked at him thoughtfully, "He did say in a centar, didn't he?" a coy edge entered her voice and she gently sat back down on the bed. Her husband let out a chuckle, "Yes he did." She smiled mischievously, "There's still a lot one can do in half a centar, my captain." "Let's prove that hypothesis," Apollo said as he wasted no time climbing in next to her. A centar later, totally relaxed and ready to face the challenges of the new day, both Apollo and Serina were in Adama's quarters. The commander had his monitor set to the relevant page from the Book of the Word, showing it to them with the eagerness of a schoolboy. "What does it say, Father?" Apollo asked, finding it difficult to read from his position. Adama smiled and read aloud: "After their home planet Kobol was known to be doomed, the twelve tribes set forth across a great void which had enveloped the surrounding environs of space, unable to find the reference points of the heavens that had once filled the Kobollian night sky. And then, by a miracle from the Lords, a bright shining star appeared from nowhere and guided them to safety. Leading them out of the darkness of the void, and back into the brightness of the star-filled heavens, from which the twelve tribes of Kobol were able to find their new homes." "I think I'm a little confused, Father," Apollo said apologetically. "If a single star led them out of the void, then how can it be in such close proximity to the mother planet now? And how come we didn't see it when we first entered the void?" "For a simple reason, Apollo," Adama said. "We didn't enter the void from the same position the Kobollians left it. By our calculations, it took us one full day in the void before we saw the star. But the trajectory taken on Delta eight heading, starting from here," Adama pointed to the chart showing the star at the center, "Will have us out of the void in two centars flight time." "You're sure of that?" Serina inquired. "I've already had scanning and an advance probe during the night confirm it. Once we attend to our business here on Kobol, leaving the void will be a simple matter of going out the way the Kobollians left it, and not going back out the way we came in. And the star will still be in full view by the time we leave it." "Okay," Apollo rubbed his chin, "I understand all that. But Father, is there a reason why you took a chance that this would be the actual void containing Kobol? Is there something of significance down there that can help our immediate needs?" "I think it very likely, Apollo." Adama got to his feet. "I believe that the key to telling us what direction we should take that will lead us to the Thirteenth Tribe, will be found there." "To Earth?" Serina asked. "You think the key to that is on Kobol?" "It's a possibility that must be considered," Adama said, "And in light of how we have had no tangible course to guide us since we fled the Colonies, anything that could give us a clue as to where our quest will ultimately end, is something we have to take advantage of. That's why I decided we would take the Fleet into the void the micron you first brought back word of it, Apollo." "And is there a specific location on the planet that would be more promising than others?" Apollo asked. "We don't exactly have all the time in the world to conduct a search of the entire planet." "True," Adama conceded, "But based on the Book of the Word, the key is to find Kobol's capital city, Eden. That was the largest of all Kobollian cities, and it was where all the Lords who ruled the planet kept their seat of power. Once we pinpoint Eden, we then search for the tomb of Kobol's last ruler, the Ninth Lord of Kobol." "Kobol's ruler at the time of the Exodus that led to the settlement of the Colonies," Serina spoke up, which immediately caused Adama to lift an eyebrow in surprise that she would know that. "Yes. Any mention of the Thirteenth tribe would have to be found in his tomb if it mentions the departure of the other twelve tribes." "When do we leave for this?" "As soon as our viper probes conduct a survey of the planet," Adama smiled, "And when that's done, I want you and Serina to accompany me to the surface." Red Squadron had launched first to make surveys of the planet surface and feed the data back to the Galactica's bridge for analysis by Adama, who seemed to be the one person in the Fleet who could best use the Book of the Word to correlate the scan data to reference points described in the Book. "That's it!" Adama had exclaimed excitedly as soon as data came in that indicated the capital city of Eden. "That's where our survey team will base itself. Colonel, prepare my shuttle immediately." "Commander," Tigh said cautiously, "I just want to go on record that I'm against having you go down to the planet surface when we still don't know for certain if the Cylons chose not to pursue us through the void. It's possible that their baseships chose to backtrack around the perimeter and that could make them pierce it at the point where the star could lead them straight to us." "I appreciate your concern, Colonel, but I must go to the surface to take readings. Unless you can scrounge up on half a centar's notice a scholar in the Fleet who can read ancient Kobollian script." "Obviously I can't," Tigh was already resigned to defeat on this point. "But I must insist that the survey team you take part in be heavily armed and fortified." "Noted," Adama said, "Blue Squadron trainees and all Red Group pilots currently conducting scanning sweeps will base themselves on the planet surface in the environs of Eden." "Come on, bulbhead, I haven't got all night." Lucifer looked up from the pyramid cards he was holding, and resisted the urge to shake his head in admiration once again at Starbuck's unflappable bravado. "It is obvious Lieutenant, that you were never taught to show any respect whatsoever for your opponents." "Who's showing disrespect?" Starbuck retorted gently. "After all, if we're going to be really living together in peace after all, some friendly terms of endearment couldn't hurt." He did it again, Lucifer thought. Finding a way to see if he could trap the IL into revealing that Baltar was just presenting another false offer again. There was no longer any doubt in Lucifer's mind that if human leadership had possessed all the instincts Starbuck had, then the sneak attack of a sectar ago never could have been pulled off. "Quite true, Lieutenant, quite true, though as I am sure you are aware, we Cylons seldom find need to use any terms of endearment, not even to our fellow Cylons." He paused, "Insults, are another matter when it comes to inferior classes of Cylons." "Ah," Starbuck said, impressed by this. "Interesting. At any rate, it's still your move. Hover or one more card?" "I do not need another card. I will therefore hover, as you put it." "Okay," Starbuck smiled, "Now let's assume we're making bets in the highest wages of Colonial currency. Think in big numbers if you're so certain that your hand is better than mine." "Big numbers, Lieutenant?" "Yeah, like maybe the amount your last Leader used to buy off Baltar." Lucifer instantly realized that Starbuck was trying to bait him again into tripping him up. But this time, he was prepared. "I believe no such transaction ever took place, Lieutenant. At any rate, I think I would prepared to wager any amount that the hand I possess is better than yours. Provided of course that you have accurately explained all the rules to me as to what constitutes a better hand than others." "Hey, wouldn't think of leading you astray on that. After all, I wouldn't want to rile you up when you can still tell the centurions to shoot me for cheating you out of a nice pot. So what do you have?" Lucifer laid down his cards on the table. It was a three quarters Pyramid, but with each section from different colors. A good hand, but by no means the best. Starbuck grinned, "Sorry," he set his cards down. "My perfect half pyramid with capstone of the same color beats your three-quarters pyramid because you don't have the same color for each section and you don't have the capstone." "Hmmmm," Lucifer looked at the table with mild disdain, "It would seem Lieutenant, that if the rules are to be that complicated, then it is little wonder that only the foolhardy would immerse themselves in it." A centurion then entered the room and came up to Lucifer. "By your command. We have received new information of great importance." "Very well," Lucifer rose, feeling somewhat relieved that he wouldn't have to go through another hand of the silly game again. As much as he had found Starbuck fascinating from an intellectual standpoint, the Lieutenant did have some annoying idiosyncrasies that after four centars of conversation had started to wear him down. He could use the diversion of more information. "Nice talking to you," Starbuck leaned back in his chair and lit another cigar in satisfaction. He too had enjoyed the last few centars on an intellectual level, but unlike Lucifer, was genuinely sorry it had come to an end. Talking to a Cylon with normal human intelligence was a refreshing contrast to what he could have expected from a centurion's interrogation. And yet, Starbuck thought further as Lucifer exited the room, leaving the warrior alone, there was one thing disconcerting about meeting a Cylon like Lucifer for the first time. For the first time, Starbuck could see more in the Cylon Empire than just a group of robotic machines acting on programmed orders with seemingly no rhyme or reason. A Cylon like Lucifer who talked normal and thought normally, brought home a chilling point that most humans had never realized before. That dark emotions of pure evil could be found in the core of Cylon leadership, and that their actions were not simply the result of unthinking machines that had gone out of control long ago. The advanced levels of Cylon robots had not only found a way to emulate human speech, they had appropriated all of the dark sides of human nature and none of the positive ones. Unless of course, all that talk about changes in the Empire were true. So far, he had yet to see any reason to make him think this story was any more genuine than the false peace of a sectar ago. But at the same time, he was determined to bide his time and watch for something more specific before making a final judgment. As soon as Apollo brought the shuttle to a stop on the planet surface, his attention immediately went to the distant sight that filled the view through the cockpit. Three massive pyramid shaped structures that towered higher than any structure ever built on Caprica or any other planet in the Colonies. The shape of the structures was all the visual proof one needed to know that this planet influenced all of Colonial civilization, since the pyramid was the standard shape for so many structures. But to see these Pyramids built on such a grander scale could only mean that Kobollian civilization had indeed once possessed technical knowledge that their descendants had never been able to equal. "Exactly as the Book described them," Adama said with reverent awe as he came up alongside his son to take in the view. "There's no question the Ninth Lord's tomb must lie somewhere within that complex." "Then I guess we shouldn't waste any time, should we?" Serina smiled as she came up to the front too. "Just a centon," Apollo said cautiously as he activated his communications set, "Blue Squadron, this is Apollo. Are you in place on the surface yet?" "Affirmative Apollo," Athena's voice came through the shuttle. "Landrams now deployed and we're setting up basecamp at position one thousand metrones southeast of Pyramids. That's where the sand ends and the ruins begin." "Copy. Who's in charge of operations?" "Lieutenant Taggs of Red Squadron is senior. He's maintaining viper sweep above planet with the rest of Red Group. Captain Killian's remained on the Galactica for now." "Thanks. Will be in touch later." Apollo shut off the communicator and rose, "We can haul out the landram to get closer to the tombs, unless you'd rather walk." "I'm for walking," Serina said, "This is a sight I just want to absorb to the fullest." "Sound thinking, Serina," Adama smiled at his daughter-in-law, "I think we'd all find it invigorating." They left the shuttle and began the walk toward the Pyramids in the distance. As they drew closer and saw the sands of the desert give way to broken columns of smaller buildings that had long ago collapsed, their sense of awe increased to the point where none of them found they could say anything to each other. "I'm going to check this entry point here," Adama said. "I'll be back in a centon." As soon as he had moved off, Apollo instinctively wrapped his arm about Serina's waist, and she then turned toward him so that they could come together in an embrace. "Feel like finding a secluded spot to be alone until the Fleet leaves?" she smiled coyly at him. "It's tempting," he smiled back and kissed her on the lips. "Very tempting." He then looked over her shoulder and saw Adama returning, and reluctantly he let go of her. "Come this way," his father sounded eager. "I think we're even closer than I realized." After receiving his briefing from the centurion, Lucifer had promptly gone to the throne room, wondering if this news would at last force Baltar to implement his plan. To his surprise, he saw that Baltar had come down from the throne chair and was pacing in front of it. "Yes?" the traitor inquired as he saw the IL enter. "A curious development, Baltar," Lucifer said, "This one will, I am sure, take you by surprise." "Nothing takes me by surprise, Lucifer. What is it?" "A star." "What star?" "A star has appeared out of nowhere, and has guided the Galactica to a dead planet." "Dead planet?" Baltar frowned, "What do you mean, a dead planet?" "A planet devoid of vegetation and natural resources in every sense. Such a planet could be of no meaningful use to the Galactica or the Fleet from the standpoint of finding supplies she would need." Baltar shook his head in disbelief, "If Adama knows I'm closing in for the kill, why should he..." he then stopped as the fragment of a childhood memory came back to him. Memories of a lesson he'd been taught in his worship studies class, which he'd largely consigned to the realm of worthless superstition long ago. "Of course," he whispered in amazement, "The endless black void and the majestic star in the heavens. Adama in his desperation has taken his Fleet on a homecoming to the birthplace of human civilization." "Quite a curious development, indeed," Lucifer admitted, "By far, an action that makes even less sense than the destruction of our outpost." "But what it indicates, my dear Lucifer, is that the time at last has come for me to implement my plan that will guarantee our complete and total victory," a triumphant smile came over Baltar's face. "And how will this plan be implemented, Baltar?" "Quite simply," he turned to face him. "Prepare my personal shuttle for launch." "And an escort?" "No," he shook his head. "I go alone. A second shuttle is to stand by and launch one centar after I depart, to the same coordinates with the prisoner, but that too will carry no escort." "Indeed?" Lucifer was mildly taken aback, "To what end?" "I have made that clear to you, Lucifer. The opportunity to trap the Galactica into a new offer of peace must be made under conditions that are absolutely right. To appear before Adama with an armed escort and a visible presence of fighters will negate any chance of success." "How do you plan to communicate with us for further instructions?" "I shall communicate in due time," Baltar's voice rose slightly, "This is my risk that I am taking, Lucifer. But remember that only I, have the ability to deliver the Galactica to your Imperious Leader." "Of course," there was just a hint of dryness in Lucifer's tone as Baltar turned away and left the throne room. For a long time, he stared at the doorway where Baltar had exited before he finally left the room himself. Adama led the way, as he, Apollo and Serina moved into the heart of the ruins that surrounded the base of the tallest Pyramid structures. They could see many elaborately carved figures of humans wearing headgear that Apollo recognized as an early version of the viper helmets. Surrounded by them were vast quantities of writing, which Apollo noticed was based entirely on pictorial symbols. It struck him as fantastic to think that an entire civilization's language could have been based on a seemingly more complex form of communication. As if Adama was reading his mind, his father spoke, "All of this writing is the language of Kobol's Lords. The rulers of the planet. It represented the language they first developed at the very dawn of time itself, and over the thousands of yahrens that life flourished on Kobol, it remained the official royal language. This was to insure that only well-educated men could ever rise to power, because it required the most formal and advanced training to master it." "Was Eden the largest of Kobol's cities?" Apollo inquired as he stopped to admire one of the carved pillars. The weathered smoothness indicated thousands of yahrens of erosion, but it still managed to have a noble quality to it. And then, he stopped to think of what future civilizations of alien races might see in the ruins of the Colonies many thousands of yahrens later, and if they would still retain any noble reminders of their past greatness. Somehow, he couldn't envision that at all. "By far," Adama said. "And it was the last of the cities to fall. Because of that, the Ninth Lord of Kobol, the last ruler, kept himself walled up in his palace and his trappings of wealth and luxury to the very end, believing until it was far too late that the setbacks taking place on Kobol were only temporary. And that the Almighty would one day let things flourish as they once did during the Golden Age." "Why did Kobol die?" Serina asked, "Was it all a natural phenomena or was it their fault the planet died?" "A combination of both," Adama said. "Being here now validates the reality of a text that many of our theologians weren't sure could be included as part of the Book of the Word. A text that purportedly was the journal record of one of those who first settled on Caprica that documented things about Kobol's last days that the Book of the Word didn't mention. It was called the testament of Arkada." "I remember my instructor dismissing that as unreliable because the earliest copy of that text dates to about one thousand yahrens after the Colonies were settled." Apollo said, fascinated by this discussion as well as the sights. This was exactly the sort of thing Apollo had always dreamed of doing. For the first time, a taste of a life that might have been for him, was being sampled and it was everything he'd always envisioned. "It was a valid objection," Adama admitted. "But I think the evidence of the planet itself proves that the account is accurate and it was just a matter of earlier translations being lost." he looked about, "The testament of Arkada talks of how Kobol's scientists first discovered that the sun was dying. Unable to give off anything more than the late afternoon level of illumination we experience now, at a given time. It was as though every life giving property of the sun that enabled the eco-system to flourish was just suddenly, for no reason their advanced science could comprehend....shutting itself down for good." "But the planet with its technology could have had the means to sustain life, couldn't it?" "That was where Kobollian arrogance proved their ultimate downfall." Adama said. "The latter stages of Kobol's Golden Age had caused corruption and waste to infect the planet. With that came a pillaging of the planet's resources. It reached a point where when the sun began to die, the combined results were catastrophic." He shook his head, "The rivers and oceans were contaminated. The skies couldn't even support the heartiest of creatures. Their technology had given them all of the material comforts they could have asked for, but now in a moment of crisis they no longer knew how to use it properly and it proved the key to Kobol's destruction." He stopped to stare at the ruins. "And when the last of these survivors settled in the Colonies, they turned on that very same technology that they hadn't used properly, and destroyed everything. The ships that carried them to the Colonies. The machines that had powered their systems. In effect, when they started anew on the Colonies, they turned the clocks back to the dawn of civilization, as though somehow they felt it was a sign of repentance they needed to make to the Almighty for their arrogance that had resulted in the destruction of their home civilization." Serina shook her head in fascination, "It almost sounds like history has repeated itself with us." Adama looked at her, impressed again by her insight, "That's certainly true to an extent. Only when we find Earth, I don't think we'll feel motivated to destroy our technology. This time, when we settle anew, it will be with a deeper understanding of the frailties in man's character that can cause destruction. Not the mere possession of technology." They resumed walking through the ruins, and Apollo found himself staring again at the pictorial inscriptions, shaking his head in frustration over his inability to comprehend. "What I wouldn't give to have taken a course in the ancient languages while I was at the Academy." "It's difficult," his father conceded. "Even with all the studies I've made over the yahrens, I don't consider myself proficient in all this. But I do know enough to get the basic gist of everything." The commander stopped in his tracks as his dark eyes focused on one elaborate wall carving which more sheltered over the yahrens, still retained traces of its original paint and gilding. "Look at that," he whispered. "We've found what we were looking for. Those pictures refer to the Ninth Lord of Kobol. That depicts his burial ceremony." He took several steps forward, his body almost trembling, and peered at the next wall. This time, his eyes locked on something different from the previous wall. This time, there was an elaborate carving that depicted a circular symbol with a four sided shape in the middle. Radiating outward were lines that ended in numerous smaller shapes. "The Ninth Lord's seal," Adama's awe increased as he pointed, "We're right on top of the entry to his burial chamber. If only there were a passageway somewhere." "Father!" Apollo pointed to his left, "Over there." Adama looked and saw a darkened doorway at the far end of some ruins. He almost went into a sprint as he made his way inside. The outside light barely managed to illuminate the interior, but it was enough for them to see an identical carving of the symbol they had just seen outside, with the lines radiating outward. The only difference was that above this one, lay more traditional inscriptions. "Can you read it?" Serina felt her heart beginning to pump with excitement. "Yes," Adama nodded, "It says, ?Beyond this portal lies the Ninth Lord of Kobol in eternal peace. Enter on pain of death.'" At that instant, Apollo couldn't help but think of what Starbuck might have said in response to that. He decided he owed it to him to say it. "You don't suppose there's someone back there ready to enforce that, do you?" Adama turned around and noticing his son's expression, matched his thin smile of understanding. "Would you care to find out, Apollo?" "I'm willing." his smile turned into a grin, and Serina found herself chuckling too. Then, her eyes caught sight of Adama's Council medallion hanging about his neck. "Your medallion!" she exclaimed. "The seal is the same as that symbol." "Yes," Adama nodded, "The symbol of our faith. Retained through the millennia from Kobol to the Colonies. And in this instance..." he looked back at the symbol, "The key to our ability to enter." He detached the medallion from his neck and taking a breath, he placed it on top of the symbol. Suddenly, from somewhere inside there was the sound of machinery being activated. Coming to life again for the first time in more than seven thousand yahrens it groaned slightly and then rose to a whirring tempo. Microns later, the door slid open revealing total darkness inside. "Get out your illuminators," Adama said as he stared into the blackness that lay ahead. "We're about to find out if this trip to the mother world has been worth it." "Just a centon," Apollo detached his micro-communicator. "Apollo to basecamp. Do you copy?" The voice of Lieutenant Taggs, the deputy flight leader of Red Squadron sounded back, "We copy you, Captain. Where've you and the Commander gone off to?" "We're about to enter the tomb situated twenty five metrones within the perimeter of ruins by the westernmost Pyramid," Apollo said. "We may not be able to communicate once we're inside. If you don't hear from us within a centar, send a guard unit to the entrance to that tomb." "Affirmative. Anything else?" "Yeah," Apollo said, realizing that if one of Red Group's pilots was talking to him, that meant none of them could still be up in the air conducting the patrol sweep. "Have you stood down from patrol sweep above the planet?" "Yeah, the Galactica said they can maintain watch over the skies, so we've all based ourselves down here. We're keeping the whole area of ruins secure." For just a micron, Apollo wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that information. Given how the void was still capable of playing havoc with the Galactica's scanners, it was still possible for them to not maintain a perfect sweep of the entire area surrounding the planet. And that could leave an opening that a watchful Cylon task force could conceivably exploit. "Apollo," Adama called to him. "We need to look at this immediately." He shook his concerns off, and nodded. After giving a final acknowledgment to Taggs, he shut his communicator off, and detached the illuminator from his weapons belt. Serina did likewise with hers. The illuminator was a conveniently small-size tool that could fit easily in one's palm but could cast a light over distances of up to 500 metrones on the highest setting. It would serve perfectly for this occasion. As soon as the three of them were inside the inner chamber, Adama noticed a row of larger sized illuminators lined up in a neat row, as though they were waiting to be picked. Since he didn't have an illuminator of his own, he instinctively reached for it. Suddenly, as the device came loose in his hand, the door behind them abruptly slammed shut throwing them into total darkness. But then, Adama's illuminator automatically came on, while Serina and Apollo hastily activated theirs. The Galactica commander shook his head in disgust, "My fault. I should have remembered that there'd be some kind of automatic closing system tied into this console." "Can we get out?" Serina asked with concern. Adama shined the illuminator on the backside of the door that was now closed. He could see the symbol of the Ninth Lord identical to the one on the other side. "Yes. It only requires my medallion again to get us out, just as it did to let us in." He smiled reassuringly. "We don't need to bother getting it open again just now. Let's just proceed forward and see what there is." His words immediately had an effect and his daughter-in-law smiled, "Lead the way, Comm..." She then stopped and for the first time said the word she'd never thought she'd be comfortable saying, "Father." Apollo patted his wife on the shoulder and the three of them began their trek that would carry them deeper inside the long forgotten tomb. Chapter Twelve The void was playing havoc with Baltar's scanner as he guided the shuttle on an approach toward Kobol, but he refused to panic. The planet itself offered a perfect reference point, and he also realized that if the void was doing this to his own scanner it also worked to his own advantage in that no one from the Galactica would be able to scan him for now. A sudden, unexpected entrance was the only thing that could work to his advantage at this point. The ideal situation from Baltar's standpoint would be to find Adama on the surface so he could present his offer to him directly and instantly. He knew he couldn't dare run the risk of going to the Galactica since they would be apt to throw him into the brig the instant he showed his face, so for now it was a matter of finding someone on the planet to talk to, and if Fate was with him, Adama would be there. As soon as he hit the atmosphere, his scanner detected signs of a large human presence near the ruins of one major city. Instantly, he guided his shuttle on an arc that would take him first away from that settlement, and then gradually back in so he could land just beyond their ground scan range. When he stepped out of the shuttle, he could see the imposing form of three large Pyramids several kilometers away to the south. The Colonials had clearly set up a basecamp to investigate the region, and that was where he needed to engage in some stealth to hopefully find out where Adama was. It took Baltar almost half a centar to reach the perimeter, and he found that by ducking behind the ruins he could spy on the warriors patrolling the flank and listen in, without being noticed in return. His plan was to eavesdrop for the next ten centons, and then if that didn't yield the information he needed, he was prepared to come out into the open. One thing he couldn't afford to do was delay things longer than one full centar, which was when the second shuttle would land with Starbuck. Above all, he needed to be sure he had made his move before the Galactica warrior showed his face to his fellow Colonials again. He noticed a medium-sized warrior conversing on a micro-communicator and inched closer so he could listen in. "We copy you, Captain. Where've you and the Commander gone off to?" "We're about to enter the tomb situated twenty five metrones within the perimeter of ruins by the westernmost Pyramid," a voice crackled back over the communicator. "We may not be able to communicate once we're inside. If you don't hear from us within a centar, send a guard unit to the entrance to that tomb." Baltar's eyes widened in stunned amazement at how he'd found the very answer to what he needed to know so easily. It was enough to make him think that the Fates were conspiring in his favor more than ever. To give him at long last the chance he'd been dreaming of for nearly a sectar now. Slowly, without making a sound, he disappeared into the ruins. Headed for the location he had heard over the communicator. There was a mixture of both trepidation and exhilaration inside Adama, Apollo and Serina as they made their way deeper into the darkened passageways of the Ninth Lord's tomb. So far, the corridors contained no carvings, and only signs of thousands of yahrens of decay. Suddenly, Serina let out a startled yelp as her illuminator shined on three decaying skeletons sprawled across the floor. As soon as Adama spotted them, his boot came in contact with the rib cage of one of them and the gentle force instantly caused the bones to crumble to dust. The commander looked down and grimly shook his head in disgust. "Tomb robbers," he muttered. "Foolish imbeciles who no doubt tried to plunder the Ninth Lord's tomb of its wealth before they hoped to leave the planet." No sooner had Adama finished when an iron gate suddenly slammed down in front of them, blocking their path. Apollo suddenly whipped out his laser pistol in a reflex action, then shook his head as he realized it was a pointless gesture. "Stay calm," Adama cautioned. "These tombs were noted for traps that simply caused doors to lock and access routes to be blocked. They weren't noted for booby traps that could instantly kill someone. There should be another key to reopen the gate somewhere." "Over here, Commander," Serina pointed to the wall, where another carving of the Ninth Lord's symbol was visible. Adama only needed to place his medallion on it again, and the gate immediately rose. "Those who possess the seal of the Lords are the ones privileged enough to gain access to these sacred shrines." Adama said as he tentatively moved forward, "For the ancients knew that only those who carried that symbol would ever enter out of total respect, and not for reasons of greed like those behind us." They made their way forward again, and this time the walls showed more signs of elaborate carvings and inscriptions. The deeper they penetrated, the more Apollo noticed how the floor began to gradually slope downward indicating that they were going deeper and deeper underground. "We're getting closer to the crypt itself," Adama whispered, breaking the awed silence that had come over them. "It shouldn't be much longer." Five centons passed and the narrow corridor opened up into a wide doorway while the floor leveled off. Adama entered and saw that he was now inside a vast chamber, filled with paintings and carvings on all sides of the walls that showed not the slightest trace of erosion or decay. All of them still retaining their original painting, and jeweled ornamentation. But it was the sight at the center of the chamber that attracted Adama's attention. A golden rectangular crypt, six feet by four feet. On all sides of it, there were large quantities of colorful gems and precious stones. The slab on top was decorated with the carving of a man in ceremonial headdress, holding a scepter. "Behold," Adama whispered, "The Ninth Lord of Kobol." The commander went up to the crypt, and knelt by it in total awed fascination. Just inside the doorway, Apollo and Serina were unable to say anything as they knelt in front of the inscriptions so they could read them better. Their own sense of awe and wonder was deeper than either could have imagined. "I know exactly how you feel.....old friend." The three of them suddenly bolted to their feet and their heads darted to the source of the voice that had filled the chamber. And then, to the stunned bewilderment of all of them, they saw emerging from the shadows, carrying one of the ancient illuminators, Baltar. Around his neck was a medallion identical to Adama's. "Baltar," Adama whispered in shock. This was the last man he ever expected to see again in his life. His fellow member of the Council of Twelve who had presented the false offering of peace one sectar before, and whose manipulation of President Adar had prevented the Colonial Fleet from launching fighters to intercept the incoming Cylon attack. Whose treachery was responsible for the deaths of 15 billion human beings, including Ila and Zac, and the seven thousand yahrens of Colonial Civilization that had arisen from the ruins of where they now stood. Long ago, Adama had vowed that if he ever set eyes on Baltar again, he would kill him with his bare hands. Now, that instinct of total hate suddenly took hold of Adama as he bolted toward him and grasped his hands around his throat. "Adama, stop!" Baltar protested as he dropped his illuminator and struggled in the commander's grasp. This reaction he hadn't counted on at all. "Listen to me!" "Father, let him go!" Apollo dashed up and pulled his father away from the traitor. Baltar staggered back, still caught off guard by Adama's reaction, and Apollo took the opportunity to seize the laser pistol from the traitor's belt. In an instant, he had it trained on him. "That's not the way. Leave him to the Council for trial!" "Adama, what is this madness?" Baltar struggled back to his feet, rubbing his neck, "You could have killed me!" "You need to ask about madness, Baltar?" Apollo raged, "Selling out your own flesh and blood!" "Selling out?" Baltar's eyes widened in seeming disbelief. This was the one part of his presentation that he knew he could not be truthful about, but if the rest of his offer was to ring with any sincerity, he needed to lie about this, or else he knew he wouldn't have a chance. "What lies have you been telling behind my back, Adama? Is that the excuse you've sold to everyone to explain what happened?" Apollo looked at him incredulously, "You're saying you didn't arrange the destruction of our Fleet? Of the Twelve worlds? Of more than fifteen billion men, women and children in the Colonies?" "Are you mad, Captain?" Baltar whispered, "What sane human being would do a thing like that?" He looked at Adama, who was still breathing heavily in rage at the sight of him, "Adama, you and I have known each other many yahrens. We've had our quarrels before, but do you think so little of me that you believe that I could have done such a thing? Surely you have not supported such lies!" Adama drew himself to his feet, still breathing heavily. Too angry to say anything at this point. "How could you think me so evil?" Baltar went on, his tone still that of one pleading bewilderment. "Look," he held up his medallion, "I too hold the seal of the Lords. Am a member of the Council of Twelve. I was as much a victim as any of you. I lost everything. My wife. My family. My people. Everything that had meaning to me on Piscera. What do you think I actually gained, if I was so evil as you think me?" His voice rose in pitch, and this time it required no acting on his part to summon this sense of betrayal he felt. For he had indeed lost all that had meaning to him, and which he had wanted to make part of his total kingdom on Piscera. And that was exactly the reason why he now wanted so desperately to make his new offer to Adama. Adama finally summoned the strength to speak, "If what you say is true, Baltar," he voice still held the same level of anger and hatred that had been there when he tried to strangle him. "Then explain yourself. Why did you leave the President's battlestar before the attack began?" Baltar had spent the entire trip from the basestar rehearsing the speech he'd make on this point because he knew that it was the one weak link in any story he could present to Adama about being a total victim. He was glad he'd finally been given the opportunity. "Because it was only at the last centon that I realized what the Cylons were up to!" Baltar shouted. "When I saw those approaching ships meant to attack us, I realized that I needed to warn my people! If those approaching Cylons were going to destroy the Fleet, then the Colonies were at risk too, and I simply panicked out of fear for my own people! Does that make me a traitor, Adama?" Adama's contemptuous glare did not lessen. That explanation did not wash with him, for Adama knew that Baltar had left the Atlantia's bridge long before he had first broken the news to Adar that the Cylon "welcoming committee" was firing on the viper of his son, Zac. And there was already a mountain of circumstantial evidence tying members of Baltar's inner circle to additional acts of treachery, such as his personal pilot Charybdis, who had been identified as the saboteur of the Colonial Defense Network. Not to mention the false reports on mining operations on Carillon that had been intended to lure visitors from the Colonies into a horrific trap. Still, he decided to say nothing. As far as he was concerned, Baltar's statements were so incriminating that all he needed to do was recount them to the Council of Twelve to insure a conviction on high treason. And for the first time, Adama felt a sense of anger that Colonial jurisprudence had in a burst of humanitarian liberalism, formally suspended all forms of the death penalty one hundred yahrens before. The maximum punishment Baltar could receive under Colonial law was life imprisonment in a prison facility, and there was nothing that could be done to change it. Even if he had the Council vote to lift the suspension of the death penalty, it couldn't be applied retroactively to crimes that occurred while the suspension had been in effect. "And when I left I found myself trapped between the Atlantia and Piscera. I was captured by the Cylons and dragged like an animal to face a show trial as the last surviving member of the Council of Twelve, whom they wanted to make an example of." "But apparently they saw fit to release you, and found you to be a friend of the Cylon Empire!" Serina spoke up for the first time, her tone contemptuous as she thought of the suffering she had witnessed firsthand as Caprica City burned all around her. "No," Baltar shook his head, grateful that he no longer needed to fudge the record. From this point forward, everything was the truth. "After the Imperious Leader was killed at Carillon, I was spared to lure you into a new offer of peace from a supposedly more benevolent Leader. I was given my own command of a baseship to track you down and find a way of luring you into this trap so as to minimize Cylon losses." He paused, "Adama, I am not a fool. My usefulness to the Cylons ends the micron you and your Fleet are delivered. I don't have any rational reason to serve their cause because my execution date was only postponed in their minds. But I do have a reason for taking advantage of the opportunity they've given me to see to it that we all make our revenge on those demons!" Adama's stare remained cold and implacable. "Get him out," he whispered with all the hate he could summon. "Hear me out!" Baltar protested, "I have been to the Cylon seat of power. It is in chaos. The reason why they spared me to look for you is because their commanders are unable to perform the task, and as a consequence the entire baseship fleet has been scattered throughout all the star systems. Do you know what that means? It means that the route back to the Cylon home planet itself is totally undefended. One single battlestar could destroy the home planet and bring the entire Cylon Empire to its knees!" Adama remained unmoved, "You have the tongue of an angel," he almost spat at him, "But the soul of a serpent." "I can prove my good intentions!" Baltar now began to feel an edge of panic. He hadn't expected Adama to be this unyielding. "That I have the power to lead you back to Cylon supposedly as my prisoners, but to instead launch a devastating counterattack against those demons." "How can you prove it, Baltar?" Apollo's tone was just as angry as before, but inside he was beginning to wonder if maybe this time, there was some truth to what the traitor was saying. "By ordering the immediate release of one of your officers," he took a breath, hoping that this would have an impact. "Lieutenant Starbuck, who was taken captive by a patrol only yesterday." For the first time, Adama looked caught off guard, while both Apollo and Serina froze in disbelief. "Starbuck?" Serina whispered, "Starbuck is alive?" "Yes," Baltar nodded, "He's been brought to the surface on a shuttle that left one centar after I did. It won't be long before he will have made his way over to your basecamp." An almost pleading edge entered his tone, "You must give me a chance to prove myself!" "At what price?" the coldness returned to Adama's voice and he turned away in disgust. "Remove him, Apollo." But by contrast, Apollo's expression had now changed to one of cautious uncertainty. "Father," Apollo said, "What if he can prove what he's saying? Baltar doesn't know who Starbuck is, unless what he's saying is true." "Maybe it's true about Starbuck being alive," Adama turned back, his expression still unmoved, "But if they've sent you, Baltar, then it is a trap." "Then why haven't they attacked?" Baltar shouted, incredulous that Adama was being this thickheaded. "I cannot tell you," he shook his head. "But what I do know, is that our safety doesn't lie behind us, with you or the Cylons, and in false promises of revenge. It lies somewhere out there," he gestured with his arm, "With the Thirteenth Tribe. The tribe that colonized the planet Earth." "Earth?" Baltar's face twisted in disbelief. Did this explain Adama's thickheadedness? If so, then Baltar was convinced that Adama had totally lost his sanity. "You can't be serious. That's nothing but a fable." "I believe it is real as the existence of the Thirteenth tribe," Adama refused to be intimidated by the traitor. "And the key to that tribe and where they went, is here. Locked away somewhere. I'm certain of it!" He went back over to the far wall to look at some of the inscriptions. But Apollo's attention was still on Baltar, and there was a look of uneasiness on his face. There was something too abrupt in the way Adama had brushed off Baltar, as though his father was so locked into the decision to look for Earth, that maybe he had blinded himself to the possibility of an alternative that needed to be explored. Because whether or not Baltar was guilty of treason, that still didn't explain his knowledge of Starbuck. At the very least, Starbuck had to be alive, and if it was true that Starbuck was going to be released, that raised some more questions that he wasn't sure could be easily dismissed. "Father," his son spoke in a more calm tone. "With all due respect----" The commander got to his feet and glared at him. "Don't let yourself be deluded by him, Apollo," he said coldly, "We made that mistake once before, and we saw the results. And those like your mother and Zac were the ones who paid the price." The mention of his brother and mother had a sobering effect on Apollo, and he slowly found himself recognizing the wisdom of what his father was saying. And yet..... "Take him to the surface and keep him under total guard. As soon as its convenient, remove him to the Galactica." Adama said as he continued to study the inscriptions. "I'll remain here." "We need your medallion to get past the barriers," his son pointed out. "Use his," Adama said. "How else could he have gotten down here?" Apollo pointed his laser at Baltar and motioned, "Hand it over, Baltar." The traitor was feeling a burning sense of anger mounting inside him. All of it aimed squarely at Adama. Adama was no longer listening to reason at this point, and was destroying all of his carefully laid plans, and only because of his mystical belief in an ancient myth. As Apollo and Serina motioned him out into the corridor, he realized that at this point, Adama's son was likely the only hope he had of getting through to the Galactica commander. And he could only hope at this point, that Starbuck's arrival would be the key to that. Baltar had barely been gone from the baseship more than a centon, when Lucifer had decided to retreat to the command throne room, and test out the high throne chair for himself. Since this throne room had been used only a sectar ago by the current Imperious Leader before command of this ship had been turned over to Baltar, he found that it gave him a keener insight into how things looked from the Cylon ruler's perspective. And with it, came a burning sense of both resentment over his current position within the Cylon Empire, and a sudden burst of enlightenment as to what he felt Baltar's plan really was. He heard the doors slide open, and then the lower toned voice of the command centurion, "By your command." When he spun the throne chair around, he almost wondered if the command centurion had the faintest sensation of surprise at seeing him assume this lofty perch. Ridiculous, since centurions, not even command ones, were capable of such sensations, yet just the same he felt the need to say disarmingly, "Just getting the feel of it, centurion." Then a brief pause as his voice grew more authoritative, "What have you to report about our commander?" "Two centurions have escorted the prisoner to the co-ordinates as requested. They report no word from Baltar for over a centar." "Hmmmm," the IL settled back in the throne chair. "A pity. I'm afraid that we can only assume that Baltar's plan has failed. Whatever that plan truly was." he placed a hint of frost on the word truly, something he knew that the command centurion would be incapable of understanding. On the one hand, the command centurion would be pliable and blindly follow whatever he had to say, which was certainly to his advantage. Yet at the same time, Lucifer found himself yearning for the intellectual challenge of another IL, or perhaps even a human like Starbuck to parry his arguments. He knew he was going to miss the captured warrior's company for that reason alone. "His instructions were quite specific," the command centurion said, "To stand by to escort the Galactica and her fleet back to Cylon." "Yes," Lucifer nodded, "But the thought that has intrigued me about our commander's plan, was just who was to be whose prisoner?" "The orders were quite specific. They were to be our prisoners." What dim-witted fools those centurions are, Lucifer thought. But more importantly, what a dim-witted fool the Imperious Leader is for not having the sense to realize what I've now realized. So certain did Lucifer feel at that moment, that he felt he could express his inner thoughts aloud, albeit in the subtle way that would go completely over the centurion's head. "Oh, you centurions are so limited in your appreciation for the human mind," Lucifer sighed, "But unfortunately it would seem that even our new Imperious Leader is afflicted by the same limitation when it comes to Baltar. Has it not occurred to him, that a man who was so close to the executioner's blade at the hands of one Leader, would be more apt to realize that he remains close to it so long as he is serving the Cylon cause?" There was no response from the command centurion. "There is something else about our Leader, indeed about all Imperious Leaders that you are probably not aware of," Lucifer went on, this time not caring what kind of risks he was indulging himself in. Not even command centurions ever dared to make reports about superiors behind their backs. "When an Imperious Leader is killed, as happened to our esteemed ruler at Carillon, succession is automatically drawn from the ranks of the second brain Cylon classes, which of course includes my own class, the IL series. Did you know that our current leader was previously an IL series Cylon?" The command centurion was still silent, so Lucifer plowed on, almost talking aloud to himself. "If it was the IL series they wished to draw from, they would have done much better to choose me than the one they ultimately selected. But...such is fate it would seem." he paused, "Of course, if there were ever a major military victory under my command, that might influence the matter of succession at some future time." Finally, the command centurion broke his silence. "What is your command?" Lucifer looked down at him for a long centon, wondering if this was the time to make his move. If his instincts were correct, then he would indeed be setting himself up to become the next Cylon Imperious Leader. But his own sense of self-preservation told him that if he was wrong, he carried the risk of being permanently exiled to a meaningless post, or even worse, scrapped and recycled into component parts for centurions. He decided that he would allow just a reasonable amount of precaution to take hold. Enough so that if something did go awry, the blame could not be affixed on him. "Oh....just thinking aloud. However," he paused, "If there is no word from our commander within another centar, we are to take appropriate action. All fighters are to stand-by for my launch order. If an attack becomes necessary, then our squadrons are to concentrate first on whatever encampments the Colonials have set up on the planet surface. After all, Baltar would not have gone there if he did not believe that their warriors and top personnel would be there." "By your command," the command centurion turned and departed. As soon as Apollo and Serina returned to the surface with Baltar in tow, the captain had seen to it that the traitor be kept under guard in the tent adjacent to where the heart of the ruins began. For now, he wasn't comfortable with the idea of having Baltar removed to the Galactica. There was a strange logic to much of what Baltar had said, and if it was enough to make him contemplate the mere thought that his father was wrong, God only knew what kind of effect such an offer could have on the entire Council of Twelve. Apollo might only waver just a bit before accepting his father's reproach, but given how the Council had acted only a sectar ago at Carillon, they probably would give Baltar an instant pardon after hearing his offer, and maybe even give his seat on the Council back. "Don't let anyone other than the commander or myself enter this tent," Apollo said coldly to Lieutenant Taggs, who was standing by to guard the traitor. "If I find out anyone else comes in, that person is on report along with you, Taggs." "Yes sir," the deputy leader of Red Squadron found it annoying that he'd been put in this subordinate position, but he'd always trained himself to rigidly follow orders without question and he wasn't going to deviate from that now. "Captain!" Baltar protested. "Give me five centons alone with you, and maybe you'll have the sense to realize that your father has lost control of his sanity!" "That's enough from you, Baltar!" Apollo shouted back. "You'll have your say later, in another forum." He then stepped out of the tent and took a deep breath. The cool, night air of Kobol felt invigorating. Around him, the pyramids and the ruins were cast in a silhouetted glow that only underscored the otherworldliness of this place. As advanced as the Colonies had become before their destruction, the ruins of Kobol suggested advances that the Twelve worlds had never begun to approach. It could only make him shake his head in awed fascination. "A cubit for your thoughts, my captain?" He turned around and saw his wife smiling at him. Immediately, he reached out and pulled her to him. Arm-in-arm, they both looked up at the awesome sight of the massive pyramid structures that towered over the rest of the ruins and the basecamp. "Those writings down in the tomb have my father beguiled." Apollo sighed. "But I get the feeling there's more to that tomb than just the writings that has him spellbound. It's as if he's....waiting for something more." "He feels the hand of God leading him," Serina said as she looked up at the heavens. "The holy writings of the Book of the Word led us here. He now waits for the next revelation." Apollo looked at her in amazement at seeing this streak of faith and piety inside his wife show itself. "You really believe that, Serina?" "With all my heart," the reverent air in her voice increased. "Your father has more gifted insight into matters of faith than anyone else I've met, Apollo." she looked at him. "Don't tell me that didn't rub off on you, just a bit." "It rubbed off," Apollo admitted, "But....not with the kind of depth you know, Serina." He paused, "I guess I've still got a lot to learn." "At least the Holocaust didn't destroy your faith," Serina said, "I know it did with Athena." "Yeah," her husband nodded, "Athena...I think her problem was that before all the horror, she was too innocent and trusting about the goodness of Providence. She...never thought something evil like that could happen in an orderly universe." "I should have a talk with her sometime about what true faith really is," Serina sighed. "I know she's closed herself off to Adama as far as understanding that goes. Maybe someday I can make her see what she's not realizing." "Maybe that's another calling in life you missed," Apollo smiled wryly. "Instead of a journalist or a warrior, you could have been a Caprican priestess." Serina returned his smile, "Post-fourth millennia of course, when the Holy Council revoked the celibacy clause and gave Caprican priests and priestesses the option to marry." "Of course," Apollo pulled her tighter and kissed her on the lips. When they were through, they resumed their awestruck look at the sight of the ruins. "I think it's still comforting to know that there's more to this place than ruins and a burnt-out sun," Serina said. "That somehow, even in a universe gone mad by the Destruction, there's still room for miracles." "Funny, that you should mention miracles." a voice from off to their left suddenly spoke. Apollo's and Serina's heads then both whipped around and their jaws fell open when they saw Starbuck, standing there with a giant grin. "Starbuck!" Apollo came up and gave him the biggest fraternal embrace he'd ever given to anyone in his life. Even despite Baltar's earlier comments about him being alive, he hadn't been prepared to believe it fully until he saw the blonde warrior with his own eyes. "Hey, hey, take it easy, buddy," Starbuck said nonchalantly. "Isn't it against regulations to hug a junior officer? Unless of course, you mean it." "You'd better believe it!" Apollo exclaimed, and then he stopped as he realized that Starbuck's release carried bigger implications that he needed to address fast. "Starbuck, where did you come from?" "You didn't know then?" the blonde warrior frowned. "Didn't Baltar show up ahead of me and tell you?" "Yeah, he did," Apollo nodded. "He said you were alive, but....we weren't exactly ready to believe him. We're keeping him under guard for the moment." "I don't blame you," Starbuck conceded, "He said he wants to make some new peace offer, and releasing me is supposed to be a sign of goodwill. But...I gotta tell you Apollo, I'm not too sure whether he's on top of the situation or not." "What do you mean?" "I mean, I had a chance to talk a lot with Baltar's second in command while I was prisoner. I get the feeling that if Baltar's idea is peace, that isn't what his underlings have in mind. I heard too many slips of the tongue that made it clear that they weren't being kept in the loop about that." Apollo looked at Serina, who was also frowning. "Starbuck, that doesn't make things any clearer for us." Serina said. "Baltar said his proposal is to trick the Cylons into ultimately launching a counterattack on them. That would mean that if what you say about his underlings is true...." "Then it actually lends more credence to his story." Apollo finished, as he felt the uneasy feeling of doubt he'd experienced in the tomb return to him. "Counterattack?" Starbuck frowned. "Lords of....that one I didn't expect, but if you're putting it that way...." "Just one other thing," Apollo said, "How much escort was there that brought you to the surface, and where are they?" "Just one shuttle with two centurions," Starbuck said. "We landed about five kilometers on the other side of the ruins, and the centurions just told me to make my way over to basecamp and they would stand by and wait for Baltar's instructions. As far as I know, they have to still be in their shuttle because they know they wouldn't stand a chance against a whole fortified base." "I think we'd better get moving," Apollo said as he turned and dashed back toward the tent on the edge of the ruins where Baltar was being kept under guard. Serina and Starbuck both followed him. When they reached it, they saw that Athena and Dietra had joined Taggs outside the tent. "Starbuck!" Athena suddenly shouted in stunned surprise when she saw him. She impulsively threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately on the lips, surprising the blonde warrior only briefly, as he realized that his disappearance and apparent death obviously would have been just as hard, if not more, on her than Apollo. "I guess you missed me," he grinned, and then decided to reciprocate her kiss. "You'll never know how much," Athena whispered as she let go, wondering if maybe now he'd realize how much he meant to her, and that she wanted to put aside the unpleasantness of that experience in the locker room a sectar ago. But all that would depend on how deep his fascination with the socialator turned med-tech Cassiopeia ran, and she knew that any decision he might make wasn't going to come here. "So what happened, Starbuck?" Dietra said as she moved in, and shook hands with him. "We thought you were lost for good." "Well, what's a little..." he then stopped as he remembered that this was not a good time to be flip about something as serious as a nearby baseship, especially since there were too many questions surrounding Baltar and his plans that needed to be answered. He turned around and noticed that Apollo and Serina had both disappeared inside the tent. "Ah, I'll fill you in later." he stepped in to join them. Apollo was glaring angrily at the traitor. "I want some answers now, Baltar! And this time it had better be the truth!" Baltar smiled as he saw Starbuck enter, "Ah, you've arrived at last, Lieutenant. Now I don't think I need to do anything else to prove my good intentions, do I, Captain? So I would suggest that you go down to that tomb and pry Adama away from those ancient writings and talk some sense into him." "Apollo," Serina said, "Whatever this means, we do have to tell him." Her husband nodded, "You're coming with us, Baltar." "Captain, there is no point in my accompanying you back down there when you already have my Council medallion to give you access. The sooner you get your father up here and out of that daydream of his, the better." "You're going to move, now, Baltar." Apollo pointed his laser pistol at him. "Serina, come with me. Starbuck, you're now in charge of basecamp operations until we get back. I want you to have all warriors ready to take to their vipers at a micron's notice. And try to get word back to the Galactica about the approximate location that basestar you were on would have to be in. We can't let them be caught dead with just half of Red Squadron available to them." "Gotcha," Starbuck nodded, "Think things are going to turn for the worse?" "I'm not sure, but we'd better be prepared in case they do." It took almost fifteen centons to renegotiate the turns through the tunnels that led back to the Ninth Lord of Kobol's crypt. When they arrived, Adama was no longer studying the writings on the wall but was idly pacing back and forth in front of the crypt with his fingers on his medallion, as though he were waiting for something. When the commander saw Baltar standing between Apollo and Serina, he glared angrily, "I thought I told you to remove him to the Galactica." "Father," Apollo said as evenly as he could. "He told the truth. Starbuck just turned up at basecamp alive and well." Adama's face twisted in disbelief, "What about Cylon escort?" "He says just one shuttle with two centurions, who are standing by five kilometers away waiting for Baltar's instructions." he paused, "Father, this has reached a point where it doesn't matter any longer if Baltar's telling the truth or not. We need to evacuate this planet as fast as we can. So far, the void's interference is providing some protection, but that can change soon and Baltar's baseship has to be close enough to mount an attack that could wipe us all out." "No," Adama shook his head, "We cannot leave. Not until I find the answer we need to find." Baltar struggled to keep his exasperation in check. "Listen to reason, Adama. If you do find what you're looking for, what would you ultimately gain? The chance to drift around forever in space, and in search of what? A planet that may be the myth of half-drunken star voyagers who came back to their home planet to die here?" he paused, "The longer you dawdle in this crypt, the more you run the risk of all of us dying here. Unless I give the appearance that I've delivered you to the Empire. We must attack them and seize power and bring the Cylon Empire to its knees! It would take them completely by surprise." Adama turned around, looked Baltar in the eye and then pointed straight at him. "I trusted you once!" he almost spat the words out. "I, and all my brothers on the Council you served on. I, and all the other 15 billion people who lived in the Colonies listened to you. I will not risk what is left of that civilization you destroyed by listening to you again." "Damn you, Adama, why are you this stubborn?" Baltar exploded, finding it incredible that even now Apollo wasn't pushing his father hard on the matter. "The longer you hold me under guard and don't let me communicate with that shuttle that brought Starbuck, the more you run the risk of causing those Cylon subordinates of mine to do something rash. They will assume that my plan to capture you has failed and they could end up launching an attack on us all! And if that happens Adama," Baltar sucked in his breath and summoned all the inner contempt he could manage, "Then the blood will be on your hands. Not mine." Apollo could feel the conflicting emotions return to him again. He was convinced that if he were an ordinary warrior and not the commander's son, he might have already cracked and been forcefully arguing Baltar's case. Only his longstanding trust in his father's judgment stood in the way at this point, and that was a bond that had been nurtured all his life and was one that he wasn't about to disregard. Before he could say anything, his father had placed his medallion in another slot alongside the wall. Abruptly, a tiny recessed slot in the ceiling opened to reveal a faint glimpse of the outside, some fifty feet above. Through the slot, Apollo and Serina could see the more distant bright star that had guided them to the mother world directly overhead. "Adama?" Baltar fumed, "Are you going to just stand there like one of these dead pieces of stone? You have to let me go, now!" Suddenly, there was a sensation of brightness filling the room, and both Apollo and Serina could see that it was caused by the single star beginning to pulse. Even through the tiny opening, the brightness was enough to illuminate the crypt even without the benefit of illuminators. The awe filled Adama's voice, "It's as if that opening was placed there for a reason. To be discovered by me at this very micron." "Damn you!" Baltar would have gladly shot Adama at this point if he were armed. He turned and looked at Apollo and Serina, deciding that Adama was past reasoning with at this point. But the two of them were equally lost in the awed wonder of the sight and it was clear that there was no one who would listen to him for now. And since Apollo still had Baltar's medallion, there was no way he could simply leave on his own. The only thing filling the traitor's mind now was how all his carefully laid plans that he had spent more than a sectar formulating, just waiting for the opportune time to put into effect, were all being destroyed because of one man's obsession with ancient myth and superstition. Already, he was becoming more convinced that if he didn't get word back soon, then Lucifer was apt to act on the assumption that Baltar was dead or imprisoned. What he'd been able to glean of his second-in-command after a sectar, was his certainty that the IL Cylon had a very rash and impulsive side that would leap at an opportunity like this. Oblivious to Baltar's ranting, Adama watched the pulsing light of the star stream down through the opening, until finally it struck the center of his medallion. Suddenly, a beam of blue light shot across the room hitting the eyes of two life-sized statue until it formed a pyramid shape directly over the Ninth Lord's crypt. The sight was so glorious that even Baltar found himself struck dumb by it, his ranting totally forgotten for now. "A key," Adama whispered, "A key to the ultimate truth." The slab of the crypt abruptly slid forward, and to the surprise of everyone revealed not the inner coffin that would have been expected, but a stairway leading down. A sudden dawn came over Baltar as he abruptly darted for the stairs and descended them. If he was right, then down there lay more indescribable riches than any man could have expected to see in one's lifetime. This was something he knew he had to see for himself. "Baltar!" Adama shouted as he, Apollo and Serina suddenly took off after him, "Wait!" "Galactica, this is basecamp. Do you copy?" Starbuck was sitting in Athena's viper, trying to boost the signal on the communications band. Finally, amidst a jumble of static, he could make out Omega's voice. "This is Galactica Core Command. We copy you, basecamp." "Thank the Lords," Starbuck grinned. "How do things look on your end?" "All clear in our sector. Unfortunately, interference makes scan readings around the planet too difficult to fully compute." "But if something were to spring out on you and the Fleet, you'd be able to see it?" "Affirmative," there was a pause, "Lieutenant Starbuck, is that you?" "Yeah, and believe me Omega, you haven't tapped into a signal from the hereafter. I'll tell you about it when I get back. The instant you get scan readings of anything, give us a holler and we'll be off the surface in no time. Be advised that a single baseship lies outside scanner range, though approximate fix cannot be ascertained." There was a pause and then Colonel Tigh's voice could be heard. "Starbuck, this is Tigh. I won't bother asking how you can still be alive, but can you give us any other indicators on that baseship's position?" "Sorry Colonel," Starbuck shook his head. "When I left it, I didn't have any indicator on the heading or fix other than it being outside your scan range. However, I think I can say with some certainty that if it makes any move, it will be in our sector, not yours." "Have you notified Commander Adama?" "He's being notified right now. I expect word on his intentions within the centar." "Just tell him not to cut things too close." "Affirmative that. Basecamp out." "My recommendation is we pull out now, Lieutenant," Taggs said. "You know we can't do that without orders from the Commander." Starbuck said as he slung his legs out and dropped to the sandy surface. "We'll just stand by for now at full readiness. However," his eyes darted about, "Taggs, you and the Security unit make sure the landram cannons are manned and ready. Keep their ground scans trained north of the ruins. If any ground units try to make their way in, they'd likely hook up with the two centurions who are already on the ground." Red Group's deputy leader nodded and dashed off, leaving Starbuck with the seven trainees of Blue Squadron. "He might be right, Starbuck," Dietra said, "Since they can't scan anything heading for the planet, we could get attacked and never know what hit us." "It's the commander's call on whether we stay or pull out," Starbuck emphasized again. "All we can do is just stay at the ready until he gives us the word." Athena suddenly put her hand up to her forehead to shield her eyes, "What's going on with the star?" Starbuck noticed the sudden brightening of the landscape and when he glanced over at the star, had to squint to keep from being blinded. The pulsing was growing more intense. "Incredible," he whispered, "I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful astral phenomena than that." "I wonder if it means something," Dietra mused. "Just a normal scientific phenomena," Athena said. "Is there anything about this void or about this planet that classifies as normal?" Starbuck said as he looked back at her. "Maybe not," Athena shrugged. "Still, I don't think that means much. Unless..." she trailed off as her expression suddenly grew uneasy. "Unless what?" Dietra asked. "Unless maybe a phenomena like that could give the perfect cover for an attack?" "Felgercarb, that's----" before Starbuck could say anything else, the minicom on his beltpack suddenly crackled and an urgent voice came over. "Starbuck, this is Taggs! Our scanner shows contacts bearing down on us, ETA fifteen microns!" "Ground or flying?" Starbuck said after he'd snatched the minicom from his belt. "Flying! Looks like we're under attack!" "Frack, okay, okay! Get those landram guns trained on any that make an overhead pass, and in the meantime all pilots get back to their vipers immediately!" Starbuck shut off the com and looked at the trainees from Blue Group. "This is going to be pretty intense. A lot more than that strike on the asteroid was..." "Starbuck, don't give us any of that felgercarb!" Athena said brusquely, "Let's just get moving and do our jobs! Unless you'd rather we just sit here on our astrums and get vaporized!" She and the other pilots then scattered toward their own crafts, causing Starbuck to shake his head in amazement again at how it had taken very little for the new warriors to act like fully seasoned veterans. He wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating any recruit's determination again. For just a micron, he remembered that Apollo, Serina and Adama were totally cut off from the rest of them down in the labyrinth maze of the Ninth Lord's tomb along with Baltar. But he also knew that there was no time to deal with that situation in the face of an impending attack. The best chance he had of saving their lives was to knock down as many of the attacking Cylon fighters as fast as he and the rest of the Galactica's pilots could do. As soon as he was inside the inner chamber, Baltar immediately saw it. The solid gold coffin, decorated with more precious stones and gems than he'd ever seen before in his life. Without any hesitation he went over and found himself pulling the top open. "Baltar, don't touch that!" Apollo shouted as he entered the chamber and dashed over. But before he could reach the traitor, the top was off and now they could all see it. Wrapped in strips of cloth covering the body with an ornamental mask and headdress, was the body of Kobol's last ruler. Clasped in one hand, a solid gold scepter that Baltar recognized as the symbol of absolute power. Without hesitation, he plucked it from the mummified body's grasp and held it admiringly. "You dare defy the holy crypt?" Adama whispered in horror, his contempt for Baltar now greater than he could ever have imagined. "Defy what, Adama?" Baltar snarled, "Do you think I believe in any of that primitive nonsense?" he then wheeled on him. "But if the stupid sanctity of this chamber is what concerns you so much, then damn you, listen to me and realize that what I've been telling you about my plan to strike back is the truth!" Adama eased himself back to a normal posture, and for the first time the hatred from his expression faded just a bit. "Put that back, Baltar," the commander said as calmly as he was capable of sounding. "And then we can talk." "I want your word, Adama," for the first time, Baltar felt as if he were regaining the upper hand at last, "Will you let me communicate with the shuttle and buy us some time?" Before the commander could respond, there was a sudden rumbling from somewhere above, and instantly the room began to shake violently. Some of the aged walls began to crack and debris fell on both the floor and the four occupants of the room. A wave of panic filled Baltar, and he suddenly looked up to the heavens, convinced that he was receiving some form of divine punishment. "I didn't mean it!" he shouted, "No, I meant no harm!" Another explosion from above suddenly caused a large stone block to come down in the doorway they had just entered. "Father, it's blocked!" Apollo shouted. "What?" Baltar felt the panic inside increase, as he clawed his way past Apollo and Serina and pounded his fists against the slab. "No! Out, I want out of here!" Adama stared at him in dismay as he now realized for the first time exactly what Baltar's motives had been in selling out the Colonies. A simple act of cowardice and self-preservation was undoubtedly what had guided Baltar's actions. Those same motives were now surfacing again, demonstrating how powerful their hold was on Baltar's psyche. "Adama?" the traitor turned and pleaded with him. "Use your power! The Lords will hear your voice!" Another low rumbling filled the chamber, and Adama immediately realized what it meant. "We're under attack," he whispered and shook his head. "It seems Baltar, that your friends have chosen to take matters into their own hands." "What?" Baltar's eyes widened. "You mean it's not the Lords punishing me for....but..." he stopped as he realized that now, the Fates had chosen to deal him another cruel hand at an inopportune time. "Damn you, Lucifer," he whispered, his rage now directed at his second in command. Even though he knew from a practical standpoint that the IL was bound to act sooner or later, the fact that it was coming just when he'd finally achieved a breakthrough was almost too much for him to bear. "If I ever get my hands on you!" The other three didn't understand at all what he was referring to, and they decided to move away from him. "Father," Serina said, "What are we to do?" "We can't do anything for now." Adama said calmly. "We can only ride this out until it's over." "Are we deep enough to withstand this kind of assault, Father?" Apollo asked. "We can only hope at this point, Apollo." Adama kept his voice, "Our fate is in the hands of the Lords." he glanced over at the walls. "Apollo, give me the illuminator. I think----" "You think what?" his son asked as he handed it to him. "I think this is what we've been looking for!" Adama exclaimed with the excitement of a schoolboy as he saw a long row of carved tablets lining the wall. "Yes! Yes, this talks of Kobol's last days! In just a few centons we can have the answer that will lead us to Earth!" But will we be able to make use of it? Apollo thought grimly as he and Serina hunched over Adama's shoulder to read. Forced to commandeer one of the vipers, Starbuck tried to overcome the uneasiness he felt about Apollo, Serina and Adama as he assumed lead formation of the viper group. "Galactica, this is Blue Two," he radioed, "We're dealing with a pretty heavy attack on the Kobol basecamp now. Recommend that all remaining vipers you have be sent in to join us. All indications are that this comprises their total attack force." "Affirmative, Starbuck," there was just a hint of urgency in Tigh's voice, "Killian and the rest of Red Squadron will be away in a few centons." "Thanks. We'll welcome the assistance. Let Killian know that he'll assume charge of tactical ops the micron he gets here. Blue Two out." He shifted frequencies so he could now talk to the rest of the vipers. "Okay, first order of business is to get them off the basecamp. Red Group, you all tucked in?" "Tucked in and ready, Starbuck," Taggs said. "Just give us the word." "Here's how it goes," Starbuck said, summoning all the command instincts he'd never seen himself as possessing. "When they make their attack run, they need to pull back up for another pass. That's where we surprise them. They'll be thinking so much about the run they just completed, that they won't be expecting us at all." "That should work for the first few of them, but what happens when they realize what we're up to and change their tactics?" Dietra asked. "These are Cylons we're dealing with, Dietra," Starbuck injected more bravado into his tone, "By the time they figure that out, we should have them all knocked down." Aboard the Galactica, Tigh had already given the Red Alert order and authorized the immediate launching of the remainder of Red Squadron. As soon as the vipers were away, he walked down to Omega's station. "Scanning telemetry on the area above Kobol starting to come back," the bridge officer said. "Indications show some pretty heavy damage to our basecamp." "At least all of our warriors seem to have gotten off the surface and can deal with them," the executive officer said with relief. "Once the rest of Red Group arrives we'll have everything we can throw at them." "Not quite, Colonel." Tigh turned around, and to his surprise saw a weary Boomer standing on the upper level that led to the bridge exit. He was in full uniform holding his helmet, and alongside him were Jolly, Giles and Greenbean. "Dr. Salik released us from the Life Station a centar ago," Boomer said, sounding somewhat drained and his legs seemed to wobble slightly. "He told us that if you gave the okay, we could be returned to duty as well." Tigh moved toward the group of warriors, staring at them in amazement. "Are you talking about the four of you, or the whole squadron, Lieutenant?" "The whole squadron, Colonel," Jolly's voice also sounded drained but there was no mistaking the determination in it. The executive officer still seemed disbelieving, "It's obvious that despite your recovery, none of you can stay standing." "Well, that may be true, sir," Boomer said. "But then again, a viper is flown from the seated position." Finally, Tigh allowed himself a faint smile. "So it is, Lieutenant. All things considered, I pronounce you and the rest of Blue Squadron fit for duty." "Thank you, sir," Boomer said and he and the others moved off with a newfound spring in their steps. "Okay, here they come," Starbuck said as he kept himself in the lead position, and held his breath. "And....now!" He opened fire and took out the first two Cylon fighters that came out of their strafing runs over Kobol. After peeling off, he saw that Athena had taken out the next one, while Brie and Dietra followed through with kills of their own. To Starbuck's chagrin though, it did not take long for the Cylons to change their tactical strategy and soon the entire cluster of fighters shot out of the atmosphere of Kobol and reassumed a new attack formation aimed straight at the vipers. "Uh-oh," Athena said uneasily as she studied her scanner, "About eighty, no make that ninety of them----" "Athena, quit counting, you're not on the bridge!" Starbuck snapped. "Let's regroup and try to deal with them." "Four to one odds against us, Starbuck," Taggs grunted. "Doesn't look good. We could sure use that help." "Just hang in there, Taggs, your Squadron Leader's got a good reputation." "Starbuck!" Dietra blurted. "We just lost one from our group! Jameson, he----" "Easy, take it easy Dietra!" Starbuck cut her off, trying to keep an even keel, but already he was beginning to sense that a fast deteriorating situation now faced them. "Just ignore it for now and keep your attention focused." "Starbuck, three on my tail!" this from Brie. "I don't think I can----" "Roll, Brie! Go into port roll at half turbo and then reverse thruster!" "Copy. Frack, they hit my rear flap!" "Hang on, hang on," Sergeant Barton raced in. "Got him! You're clear Brie, get back on my wing and you'll be okay from here on in." "Lieutenant, we've now lost three fighters," Taggs said grimly, "We can't keep up this ratio much longer." "What's your scanner say about those Red Group reinforcements?" Starbuck managed to get his question out as he hurriedly destroyed two fighters that had drawn too close to Athena. "Uh...just a micron, I...got ?em! And, wait Starbuck my scanner shows an extra thirty vipers tailing them too!" "Extra thirty?" Starbuck's eyes widened. "You got to be kidding, that's not possible unless...?" he broke off as he suddenly realized what it meant. And in that same instant, all his optimism and bravado was quickly restored. "Starbuck!" Taggs radioed. "I think they've spotted them too, and now they're all headed back into the atmosphere for another strafing run on the base!" "Too late to do anything down there," Starbuck said, "We just have to hope the ground teams have all cleared out. Our job is keeping ourselves together for the best strike that will knock all these pieces of felgercarb down." "You see?" Adama kept whispering excitedly as he shined the illuminator on the tablets. "This talks about the last days of Kobol itself! A record of the very first Exodus of humanity!" Apollo hunched over his shoulder, wishing he could understand the writings himself. And wishing that this discovery could have happened but a centar before when all was still quiet. "Probes had been sent out yahrens before to survey the distant planetary systems." Adama gave a simplified translation. "Their probe craft was far ahead of anything our technology has ever developed. They were capable of sending back telemetry data from across the farthest possible reaches of space!" his eyes darted down. "A cluster of twelve worlds was located relatively nearby, each offering conditions for settlement favorable to human existence. Those were the Colonies we knew! Twelve tribes of Kobol decided to travel together to seek out those worlds!" crouched down, he managed to move over to his right to read on. "But the thirteenth tribe was more interested in another planet that had been surveyed by another more distant probe. Reports of a planet teeming with more life and bounty than the other twelve worlds put together, but separated. Distant and far removed across the far reaches of the galaxy from the system that contained the other twelve worlds. Thus, a grave risk involved in undertaking the journey that would lead to this planet that the Kobollians chose to give the name Earth." "Does it give coordinates, Father?" Apollo felt his heart pounding. "What were the coordinates?" "In a micron," Adama tried to relax himself, not letting himself get too far ahead lest he make a mistake in translation. His eyes slowly wandered over to the inscriptions where he knew the coordinates lay. He had barely had time to focus on the first set of figures, and could just make out the first words. "Quadrant Alpha----" Suddenly, Adama was cut off as a violent blast from outside rocked the interior of the tomb. Portions of the ceiling gave way as Adama, Apollo and Serina were violently thrown to the floor causing them to drop their illuminators. For a terrifyingly long micron, everything was now black. "The illuminators!" Adama shouted frantically, "Get them relit!" "Adama!" Baltar's voice rasped from the other side of the room, where he'd been ignoring them in frustrated anger and disdain the whole while. "Help! I'm.....trapped." Apollo felt the dust covering his entire body as he groped in the dark and finally felt the handle of the illuminator. Microns later it was back on, and he could see that he was lying on top of his wife, who was coughing violently as she'd inhaled some of the dust. "Serina?" he helped her to her feet and said with deep concern, "Are you okay?" "I'm okay," Serina coughed and then turned to her left, where they could see a stunned Adama staring at the wall he'd been fixated on just microns before. But now, the elaborate carved tablets that lined the wall were gone. Replaced by a recessed cavity that indicated they had been jarred loose by the explosion and collapsed to the floor, where weakened by age they had crumbled into dust. The key to the answer of where the Planet Earth lay, now lay in ruins by his feet. "Gone," Adama whispered in shock, "The writings are gone." "Adama!" Baltar shouted again, "Help me, damn you! Help me!" Dimly, Apollo turned toward Baltar and saw that the traitor was sprawled on the ground, covered with dust. His left leg was pinned completely under a massive slab of wreckage. Apollo blinked and then realized that the slab that now trapped Baltar was the sealed door that had trapped them inside until now. "Father!" Apollo shouted. "The door's been blasted open! We can get out of here." "Gone," Adama didn't acknowledge him, as he continued to stare at the empty wall in a disbelieving stupor that he had come so close only to be denied. "Father!" Apollo grabbed him by the arm. "If they make one more pass on us, the whole Pyramid is liable to collapse on us. We have to get out of here, now!" "Help me out of here!" Baltar continued to rage. Not knowing why he was bothering to do it, Apollo knelt by the slab and tried to lift it. It refused to budge. The traitor's left leg, below the knee remained buried beneath it. "Apollo," Serina said as she brushed herself off, trying not to panic, "It would take a team of a dozen warriors to lift that." "You're right," Apollo said as he got to his feet and pulled his father over, "Let's go, Father." The commander nodded sadly, "Yes, you're right. We have no choice." The reality of what they planned to do, now sunk in on Baltar, "No! You're not going to leave me down here?" Adama glanced at him more out of pity at this point. He was too stunned by the turn of events to feel hatred any longer. "Baltar," he said as he began to follow Apollo and Serina out the doorway, "You've left us with no choice. Your friends have sealed your fate. And ours it would seem." Adama then stopped and glanced back at him one last time. Without saying another word, he removed his Council medallion and dropped it by the traitor's side before exiting the tomb. As soon as Adama was gone, all of the pent-up rage inside the traitor exploded with its greatest possible fury. "You gallmongering lunatic, Adama, this is all your doing! I gave you a chance! A real offer! You brought this on, Adama, not me! Not me! You'll come to regret this, Adama! You will regret this day for the rest of your life! I swear by everything in me, I will make you pay for this! You have not heard the last of me!" There was no response as Baltar heard the sound of their footsteps receding in the distance. The only emotion he now felt in his body and soul was an all-consuming hatred of Adama and everything he and his remnant of human civilization now stood for. A hatred greater than anything he'd ever felt in his life. And yet, within that hatred, he could feel a burning sense of reinvigoration pumping through his body. His hate now fueled the desire to live and achieve his revenge on the one who had caused things to come to this. The traitor managed to raise his body to a sitting position and began digging his hands into the ground around his trapped leg. It took more than a centon of digging before he realized that the force of the doorway slab had knocked his leg beneath the surface of the ground so that the slab no longer rested directly on top of it. All he needed to do was dig deep enough and then lift his leg out. With his hate guiding him for strength, he continued to dig madly. Finally, after more than two centons of struggle, he attempted to pull his leg out from under the collapsed slab. He felt a horrific pain shoot through him as it moved, but the will to escape was stronger than the pain and he managed to swing it out from under so that he was now free. But still unable to get to his feet. Baltar crawled on the floor and snatched the discarded medallion Adama had left. Clearly, Adama intended to use Baltar's own medallion to open the passageways above that might still be locked, thus explaining why he had chosen to discard his own. If it had been intended as some final act of compassion on the commander's part, it made no impression at all on Baltar. All it did was further fuel his anger and hatred of the man. He managed to crawl his way back up the stairs into the outer room they had been in before, and he saw that the opening in the ceiling where the pulsing star had shone its light through, had now been blasted open completely giving him a wide expanse of the night sky. But this time, there was more than just the single star to see. He could see far above, the signs of battle. The red streaks indicating Viper fire, and given the greater intensity of the red streaks, that meant the progress of the battle had been turned in the Colonial's favor. He found himself laughing over that. Lucifer had chosen to act rashly, and had failed miserably. In a sense, he was almost glad of that. At the very least, that meant he'd be in a position to reassert his authority with a vigorous determination that had never been there before. "When I get through with you, Lucifer," he whispered as he continued to crawl across the floor, "I'll tear you limb from limb! Circuit from circuit!" Finally, he came to a stop directly underneath the opening in the ceiling. There would be no question at this point of him being able to make a clear transmission to the two centurions in the shuttle who had brought Starbuck to the surface. Simple prudence would have dictated that they remain where they were during the battle, since there was nothing they could realistically do to contribute. He pulled out his micro-communicator from his right pocket, feeling relieved to see it was intact and glad that it had not been confiscated earlier. Then, he activated the switch. "Centurions," he summoned all the strength in his voice, "This is Commander Baltar. Do you acknowledge my transmission?" There was thirty microns of silence, and then Baltar repeated his message. Finally, the monotone sound of a centurion replied through the speaker. "By your command. We have maintained our position, awaiting your signal." "Get to me, now!" Baltar summoned all the command authority he was capable of into his voice. "Inform Lucifer that I am alive and trapped in the tomb of the westernmost Pyramid in the main ruins! Inform him, and then get over here and free me! Now!" he then paused, "And if you so much as see a single human between there and here, then kill them immediately!" "By your command. We will notify base, and proceed to your position." Baltar shut the micro-comm off and for the first time began to feel as though the danger to his life had passed. He found himself grinning with menace. "I swear it, Adama," he whispered, "You will know my wrath." "This is Red Leader, assuming command," Killian said as he pulled his viper in ahead of Starbuck's, "Blue Squadron also here as well. On my signal, head on in with an unlimited barrage of fire and get them to scatter, fast!" "Give the word, Killian," Boomer spoke up, "We've all got some catching up to do." "In three, two, one, mark!" Killian then hit his high turbo and sped into the atmosphere of the planet. Soon the rest of the vipers followed behind him. Microns later, the night skies of Kobol were now filled with the incredible sight of dozens of Colonial vipers trading shots with the Cylon fighters still strafing the base. The sudden concentrated barrage of fire instantly staggered the Cylon force and in only three centons, all of the fighters that had been strafing the base had been destroyed. "Got ?em!" Jolly said excitedly as he scored his third kill. "The skies are all clear here!" "Starbuck, this is Killian. Your scanner pick up the rest of the Cylons?" "I read them....mark delta two, they...are not headed toward the Galactica's position but that could change any micron." "Pursue!" Red Leader barked, "All vipers pursue! The last thing we need is an intact fighter force for them to launch a counterattack on the Fleet with!" All of the vipers now assumed mass formation and exited the atmosphere of Kobol. Leaving beneath them a planet of both ancient ruins, and freshly smoldering ruins. Adama had taken the medallion that had been Baltar's from his son, and calmly put it about his neck. Ordinarily, he might have felt a sense of revulsion over wearing what had been the traitor's medallion, but he was in such a depressed state of mind that for the first time, the certainty of his faith had been dealt a severe blow. It made no rational sense to him to think that the Almighty could have led him to this spot and snatched away the solution to his most pressing problem at the last possible instant. "Father, look," Apollo pointed. "Those blasts destroyed much of the integrity of these other chambers as well. We can just walk out without unlocking any of the doors." "Just as well, then," Adama said glumly, "These things are not so powerful after all, it would seem." "Father," Serina could see the look on his face, and it had her worried. "Did you see anything? Any piece of the coordinates at all?" "Only the very first part," Adama didn't look at his daughter-in-law. "Quadrant Alpha. That only tells us the most general quadrant of the galaxy encompassing thousands if not millions of pathways the Thirteenth Tribe conceivably took. Without a proper vector heading, we can't narrow the pathway they took." He shook his head in frustration again, "We were so close. So close." Serina then grabbed his arm, "But it was a start at least. Maybe not much, but you found out for certain that Earth really does exist. That what the Book of the Word has said all these yahrens isn't just a story, but something real. Something definite that lies out there. And at the very least, we know which general part of the galaxy it lies in if we know it's in Quadrant Alpha. How many billions of other pathways were eliminated from consideration with that one piece of information alone?" Adama stopped and looked at her in amazement at how she was so vigorously trying to restore his faith at this terrible time. "Adama, of all people alive, you're the one person who can never lose faith," she squeezed his arm more tightly. "It wasn't the complete answer to a prayer, but it gave us something. If we come away with that, then we will be led to where our destiny lies!" Apollo was also amazed to see this side of her surfacing again. It could only make him marvel at how blessed he was to have been led to someone such as her. "She's right, Father," Apollo felt her strength touching him as well. "We have to go on and take the good from this, as surely as we took what good there was left to find after the Destruction." The despair now faded from Adama's face, and for the first time his old sense of vigor seemed to return. "You're right," the commander said, "You are so right." he then looked ahead where the end of the corridor that led out of the tomb's surface entry point could be seen. "Let's get out of here and get off this planet, fast." The combined assault from both Blue and Red Squadron inflicted a lethal blow on the retreating Cylon forces. What amazed Starbuck most was to see how well everyone was able to fight together on this occasion. Blue and Red Squadrons both. Galactica and Columbia pilots. The veterans and the trainees. All barriers had disappeared into total irrelevancy. One thing's for certain, Starbuck thought, I'm never cutting Red Squadron out of any private parties again. "Red Leader to Galactica," Killian felt the deepest sense of satisfaction he could ever recall since the Holocaust. "Cylon attack force, estimate 80% destroyed. Remainder fleeing. Difficult to pursue further given void interference, but am willing to follow them back for assault on their baseship." A half centon later, Tigh's firm voice filled every pilot's cockpit. "That is a negative, Red Leader. There will be no pursuit of the survivors and no engagement with any baseship. With 80% losses, she'd be too crippled to mount an effective counterattack against us, and I doubt that one baseship is anxious to try a head-to-head match with us on those terms. They need to withdraw from this quadrant to get reinforcement and what we need to do is get out and lose them before they get that reinforcement." Killian felt just a twinge of frustration in him, but he also knew that from a strategic and tactical standpoint, nothing could be gained from keeping up the pursuit. The executive officer had perfectly summarized the situation. "All right, Colonel," Red Leader said. "We understand. We'll assume new heading for home." "Colonel, this is Blue Two," Starbuck jumped in, "Any word from the Commander or Apollo?" "Negative," Tigh said, not letting his concern show, "No word from basecamp since the attack began. There may be too much interference from the void to get them clearly at this time. Especially since all the communications traffic during the battle has fouled up most of our frequencies as it is." "In that case, Colonel, request permission to take a few vipers back to basecamp to survey the situation." "Request granted. But no more than three to five vipers for any escort mission you need to fly for shuttles." Tigh said firmly, "You have two centars before you have to be back on the Galactica. We can't wait any longer to get the Fleet underway and get us out of the void." "Copy that." Starbuck acknowledged and switched frequencies. "Killian, I'm detaching all Blue Group trainees to go with me." "Affirmative, Starbuck. Bring the Commander home safe." Red Leader then peeled off and began to lead the bulk of the vipers back to their home base. "Starbuck," Athena said, not hiding her concern as she took position behind him, "You think they're okay?" "They have to be, Athena," the blonde warrior said as Kobol now filled his entire field of vision. "I won't accept any other possible outcome." When Adama, Apollo and Serina stepped out of the tomb entrance into the Kobol night, the first thing they noticed was how eerily quiet it now seemed. The single pulsing star now reigned alone as the only thing visible in the night sky. Only the glow of distant fires from the basecamp offered indications of what had gone on over the last terrifying centar. The commander paused to glance one last time at some of the undamaged pillars and carvings that still lined the colonnade. It made him wonder how many eons would pass before any human eyes ever beheld the sight of this mother world again. Just as he had wondered that night of the Destruction as he'd stood in the ruins of his home on Caprica if any human eyes would see these familiar sights again. And once again, he found himself thinking that perhaps billions of eons would pass, and the wait would still be in progress. "Basecamp, this is Apollo," Apollo spoke into his microcommunicator, now that they were outside. "Do you copy?" There was only a burst of static. He tried again, and still nothing. "You think maybe we're the only ones left on the planet?" Serina thought as they continued to make their way toward the glowing, distant flames. "If that's the case, we just find an undamaged shuttle and clear out," Apollo said. Just then, his micro-com crackled to life, "...--pollo, this is Starbuck. Do you copy?" "Yeah! Starbuck, I copy you!" Apollo felt relief go through him. "Where are you?" "On the edge of basecamp at the foot of the ruins." "Then we should be where you are in half a centon." He switched off the micro-com, and began to pick up his pace, with Adama and Serina trailing him. When they reached the end of the ruins, they could now see the flaming remains of the basecamp tents, but to their relief saw no destroyed vipers on the ground. "Apollo!" Starbuck stepped out from their right. Behind him was Dietra. "There you are! Glad to see you're okay." "What happened up there?" Serina stepped in between Apollo and Adama. "It was rough going, but we managed to fight them off," Starbuck wasn't going to let himself be flip at a time like this. "We did lose a couple of the trainees. Jameson and Hanlon." "Athena?" Adama suddenly felt a wave of parental concern for his daughter hit him. "She's okay. She and the rest of the trainees are standing by in orbit to give your shuttle escort back to the Fleet. We set our vipers down next to it, and we know it's still intact." Starbuck's dead serious tone increased, "Colonel Tigh feels we should get underway within the next two centars before the Cylons get any reinforcement they need to start pursuing us again." "He's right," Adama's sense of regret and sorrow over what had happened in the tomb was gone completely. Only the task of survival mattered now. "We must get off the surface. As quickly as possible." Without saying a word, they all fell out into a straight line and began to descend the steps that would take them out of the area of ruins altogether. Dietra and Starbuck in the lead. Followed by Adama, then Apollo, and at the rear of the group, Serina. Apollo's feet had just hit the sand when he suddenly heard it from behind. The distinctive sound of a back and forth whirring motion. There was just a fraction of a micron's worth of disbelief passing through his mind before he managed to whip his head around to see what was there. Once he did that, his eyes widened in horror as he saw two Cylon centurions emerging from behind one of the pillars with their battle lasers trained on them. "Look out!" he shouted. It took just another fraction of a micron for Apollo to realize that Serina, being at the rear of the group was the one in the most danger. He desperately found himself lunging toward her. Hoping he could push her out of the line of fire. But perhaps two or three fractions of a micron before he could push her to safety, a blue barrage of laser fire struck his wife squarely in the back. She immediately crumpled to the ground. Apollo found himself flying over her fallen body and tumbling into the sand next to her. In that same span of time, Starbuck, Dietra and Adama had all turned around and the two armed warriors managed to frantically unleash a return barrage of fire that instantly caught both centurions in vulnerable positions. The two Cylons collapsed to the ground in dead heaps. Apollo scrambled to his feet and looked down at the fallen form of his wife. Serina was alive, but was gasping for breath, unable to say a word. There was an expression of horror and pain on her face that he had never seen before in his life, and it only served to magnify the sense of stunned shock and horror he now felt. "No," Apollo whispered, unable to comprehend this latest turn of events. He touched Serina's face, trying to think of words that could provide some comfort for her, but he found none coming at that instant. His mind was too numb from shock to feel anguish, or to offer her comfort. "Oh my God," Starbuck whispered in horror as he, Adama and Dietra came up alongside him. "The two centurions who brought me back to the planet. I'd forgotten about them." "How is she?" Adama knelt beside his son, looking down at his daughter-in-law, who was still gasping for breath. "I don't know," now Apollo felt the shock wearing off, and the frantic emotion hitting him, "Oh dear God, I don't know!" the tears already began to stream down his face. "Get her to her feet! We've got to get her to the shuttle and get her to the Galactica Life Station now!" Adama got to his feet. "Dietra, notify the Galactica immediately and have Salik and all the med-techs he can spare waiting in the landing bay!" "Yes sir!" Dietra managed to overcome her own shock and sprinted off toward her viper as fast as she could go. "Come on!" Adama barked at Starbuck and Apollo who were still hunched over her in shock, "Get her to her feet!" Starbuck finally responded and grabbed her by the left arm. He had to nudge his friend to get Apollo to finally do likewise with her other arm. Serina continued to let out nothing but gasps of pain and then a louder exclamation as she got to a standing position. Then, with Apollo and Starbuck each holding onto her, they managed to start moving as fast as they could toward the distant shuttle. Throughout the seemingly endless five centon journey, as he continued to hear his wife gasp out in pain, as though the life were slowly ebbing away from her, Apollo could only feel one thought going through his mind. The thought of wishing he were dead. Chapter Thirteen Throughout the shuttle ride to the Galactica, Apollo never once left Serina's side. He had managed to use the shuttle's med-kit to administer her a painkilling injection, so that she no longer was gasping frantically in pain. Now, her breaths were still rapid but quiet this time. Even so, he was seeing nothing encouraging about her condition, and already his mind was facing the awful prospect that he was going to lose her before he'd had a real chance to share his life with her. "Please God," he whispered pleadingly, "Please God. Save her." Only once through the long journey, did Serina manage to make eye contact with her husband. And as if she were summoning all her remaining inner strength, she managed to smile weakly at him. "You're going to be all right, Serina," he took her hand. "You're going to be all right." But no sooner had he said that, then he could almost sense a response in her eyes. A response that was saying no to him. When the shuttle arrived on the Galactica, the hatch opened and a med-team consisting of Salik and Cassiopeia immediately dashed aboard with a gurney unit. Salik immediately ran a med-scan unit over Serina, and as soon as he saw the results his expression grew even more grim. "Doctor?" Apollo was pleading, "Doctor, can you do anything?" "Get her hooked up to a full life support unit!" Salik ordered sharply as he and Cassiopeia lifted her onto the gurney. As soon as she was in place, the med-tech wheeled it out of the shuttle as fast as she could go. "Doctor?" Apollo repeated, his eyes tearing up. "Please. Can you do anything for her?" Salik looked at him with a deep sense of discomfort. He then looked over at Adama, who was trying hard to keep himself calm, then back at Apollo. "Captain," he put a hand on his shoulder, "There is nothing I can do to save her. Her entire spinal column has been severed and she is completely paralyzed for all intents and purposes. It's a miracle she hasn't died already after going this long without immediate treatment." "No," Apollo felt the tears going down his face, "You can't mean that. She has to live." "Apollo," his voice grew gentle and almost parental. "Her spinal injury isn't the only problem. Now I can give you all kinds of graphic descriptions about what else that laser shot has done to her, with all of that radion contamination going through the rest of her body, but that would be bad taste on my part and wouldn't change a thing. The bottom line is that I can only keep her comfortable until the rest of her bodily functions shut down completely. It may take a few centars for that happen, but it is an irreversible process. That's what a laser shot set to the kill level is designed to do. It's just that....we're used to seeing it strike someone in the heart or the head which brings instantaneous death." He shook his head sadly, "She was literally hit in the one spot of the body that can do something like this. Cause a long, terminal death. It's almost a one in a million chance that it could have happened, but it did. And that's something we can't do anything about. You might as well be asking me to bring back someone who's already dead from such a shot." Apollo lowered his head, and his legs felt so weak, he was certain he'd collapse to the floor. This was the worst moment of his life, bar none. None of the traumas and tragedies of the Holocaust, not even losing his mother or Zac, could measure up to the sense of loss he now felt. And once again, he could only think of how much he wished it had been him lying dead on the sands of Kobol instead. He was certain that he had hesitated just a fraction of a micron too long before responding to the two Cylons and that at the one time in his life when he should have acted with all the skills of training that he possessed, he had failed. "I'll do what I can to make the end comfortable for her," Salik said. "I'll even see if I can relieve some pressure so she can talk to you. That's all I can do at this point." He then turned and stepped off the shuttle, leaving Apollo alone with his father. It took almost a centon before Adama dared to summon the strength to come over to him. When he reached his son, he did something that had never come naturally to him as a parent. He took Apollo in his arms and embraced him with all the tenderness he could summon. "I'm so sorry," Adama said as he held his son, trying to comfort him. "I am so sorry. It's not right for you to have to go through this. Not right at all." He then looked Apollo in the eye, "Always know that the people you still have who love you, will always be here for you, son." There was no response from Apollo. The tears were still coming down his face, and he seemed like someone who'd been kicked and beaten and could never get up again. "Go be with her," Adama said gently. "I'll get Boxey." "Oh Lord," Apollo now spoke, and his sense of anguish only increased, "How do I tell him this?" "It's quite simple, son," his voice was still gentle and loving, but also with the firm sense of parental guidance that he had always tried to give his son. "You be there to do for him, exactly what I'm doing for you right now at this very instant. Because Boxey needs that more than anything else, and you owe it to him and to Serina to give him that." Finally, his son nodded and wiped away the tears from his eyes. "You go to her," Adama patted him again. "I'll bring him down as soon as I can." Apollo said nothing as he stepped off the shuttle. An anguished Starbuck was the only other person waiting outside. He bit his lip when he saw Apollo move past him without an acknowledgment and then he felt the need to call to him. "Apollo?" he tried to keep his voice from cracking. His friend stopped and looked at him, his expression now largely vacant, as though his mind was in another world completely. "Apollo," Starbuck took a breath, "I'm sorry. It was my fault. I should have scanned the region to see if those Cylons were still there, but----" Apollo put a hand on Starbuck's shoulder and gently cut him off. "You're never to say that again," his voice was filled with finality. "Because it isn't true. You have absolutely no reason, and I mean no reason for feeling that way. Always remember that, because I don't ever want to know that you're feeling upset over that when you don't have a reason to." He paused, "You owe me that, Starbuck." Starbuck sighed, and nodded. "You've got it, Apollo." The two of them then walked in silence to the Life Station. Starbuck didn't feel the strength to say anything to his friend at this point, not completely sure what was the right thing any longer. It would be a long time before the shock would pass for him, and he could feel comfortable giving Apollo any kind of helpful advice. When they reached the Life Station, they saw that a small crowd had gathered outside as if in a waiting vigil for news on Serina's condition. Athena, Dietra, Boomer, Killian and Tigh. None of them said anything as Starbuck quietly took a place alongside Athena and allowed Apollo to enter the room alone. "Well?" Athena broke the silence, "Any indication? Salik didn't say a word when he..." she broke off and then choked back a sob. Starbuck let out a sad sigh and shook his head. "What do any of you really think the chances are when you're shot square in the spinal column?" There was no response from any of the others, but it was clear they all understood. "It's not fair," Athena whispered, "It's not fair that this should happen." she already knew that if she hadn't renounced her faith a sectar ago after the Holocaust she would have done it right now. Now that she no longer believed, it wasn't possible for her to rail at Fate or God any longer from her standpoint. She could only just quietly brood over how unfair and meaningless life was in the end. "Is it ever fair for any of us?" Killian spoke up. "After all that's happened this last sectar, I guess there's none of us who can be left immune from this kind of tragedy. Even those who should be immune from it." He looked at the sealed door to the Life Station and sadly shook his head, "I wish I knew how much more of this we all have to face before we find Earth. I don't know if my system can take seeing things like this happen on a constant basis." Starbuck looked at Red Leader with a greater sense of inner admiration than he'd ever known before. Now there was more than just the shared battle experience that had broken down the barrier between the two squadrons. For the first time, there was a bond between the two groups during a time of tragedy such as this. "We all stick together," Boomer said, "That's how we overcome it. We just....all stick together. Just like all of you did for me and the rest of us when it seemed like we were about to die. And now....we do the same for Apollo." "And we bring him through it," Starbuck said with a new sense of determination, "By God, we bring him through it." Twenty centons went by as Salik and Cassiopeia worked on Serina, hooking her limp body up to a life supporting unit. They then sealed off the area she was in and performed some quick surgery designed to relax the muscles above her neck so she could at least regain some temporary movement of her head. Once that was done, they also knew it would be possible for her to talk. When they finished the procedure, they allowed Apollo to come by her side and wait. Hoping that the procedure would have been worth it. Finally, another ten centons passed, and Serina managed to tilt her head and look at her husband, whose face was still a tortured mask of anguish. She summoned a smile and then whispered in a faint voice, "Hi." "Hi," he whispered back and took her hand, which was limp and motionless. Incapable of even squeezing his back. "I guess I....." she then trailed off. "No, no, no," he shook his head vigorously, "You didn't do anything wrong out there. You're a great warrior. You have more natural skill than anyone I ever met. I mean that, Serina. You're that good." "But even good warriors aren't invulnerable," Serina sighed, "I guess that's the way we should look at it." "Serina," Apollo knelt by her and felt the tears returning, "You're going to be okay. You're..." he then stopped as he saw her shaking her head again. "No. No, Apollo. You and I know better. Let's....just view this as the time to.....say goodbye." She managed to take a breath, "In a way....it's kind of good it happened this way. Most....of the time it's so sudden. You....don't get a chance to say all the things you want to make sure....have been said before the end comes." "Serina," Apollo wiped his eyes with the other hand as he continued to squeeze her hand, "I love you so much. You're...everything to me." "And you are to me, Apollo," she whispered. "Is...Boxey here?" "Father's bringing him down," he said reassuringly, "He'll be here." Serina managed to smile again, "I knew....from the micron I first saw you, you were the one who could take care of my boy. And I know you'll keep doing that." "Always," he began to stroke her hair, which spilled out over the pillow. "I swear by all the Lords, I'll take care of him." When Adama entered Boxey's room and saw him playing with Muffit, there was a deep sense of hurt and anguish inside his heart that he'd have to be the first to break the news to his new grandson about what had happened to his mother. This was something he'd done many times through the yahrens when he'd been forced to inform family members of warriors killed in action that they had lost a loved one. Doing that so many times in his life had never fully prepared him for the emotional hurt that came with it, especially when the scenario impacted on him personally like this one did. "Hi, Grandpa," the little boy looked up at him brightly when he saw Adama enter. Already, he had learned how to discard the title of "Commander" and immediately embrace Adama as his new grandfather. "Hello, Boxey," Adama smiled weakly, his hands behind his back. "Are Mommy and Dad back?" "Yes," he nodded, "They're back. And...you need to see your mother, now. She...has something very important to tell you," at this moment Adama could only hope and pray that Salik had been telling the truth about Serina being able to talk. It was going to be a lot easier on Boxey if he would get the chance to talk to his mother one last time. Something that had been denied to Adama with Zac and Ila, and which still haunted him to this day. Boxey would be less scarred for life if he could be spared that part of the tragedy. "Is something wrong?" Boxey frowned. Adama took a breath, "I'm afraid there is, Boxey. Your... mother will explain it to you. You come with me, now." "Okay," he hopped off his bed, and then looked at his daggit, "Muffit, you wait here. I'm going with Grandpa." The robot let out a complying bark and went off to the corner of the room. Boxey came up to his grandfather, who took him by the hand and led him out through the corridor, and then to the turbo lift that would take them to the corridor just outside the Life Station. Nothing was said between the two during that time, and already Adama sensed that Boxey was beginning to suspect what this was all about. It was as though he didn't need to say anything else to him at this point. Not until after the moment when the little boy would have to face the sight of his mother, dying and helpless. Instinctively, Adama fingered the letter he had written to Ila, that still lay in his pocket after all this time. He hoped that some of the strength that he had drawn from it these past few days could be transferred to Apollo and to Boxey. They would both need it more than ever. They reached the area outside the Life Station, where Starbuck, Athena, Dietra, Boomer, Killian and Tigh were continuing their vigil. Only now, Cassiopeia had emerged from the room and had her arms around Starbuck, as though she had been crying. As soon as they saw Boxey and Adama, they all suddenly came to a rigid attention, as though none of them felt they could dare say a word or show any emotion in front of Serina's son. They stayed that way for almost a half centon after both Adama and Boxey entered the room. Adama immediately let go of Boxey's hand once they were inside and allowed him to run up to his mother's side. The commander saw that Apollo was now standing up, his bearing erect and normal. He could also see that for now, he'd managed to wipe away all the tears from his eyes. "Mommy," Boxey looked at her, and immediately he realized that all of his inner suspicions were true. Instinctively, he reached for her hand, which he had felt squeeze his so many times in reassuring comfort all his life. Only now, it wasn't capable of squeezing back any longer. "Hello, my precious," Serina managed to smile. "You...won the war out there?" at this point, Boxey wasn't sure of what he could say. "Yes," she was determined to keep smiling the whole time, "But I had a little help too.....Warriors always know how to help each other." The reality of the situation now seemed to crash on Boxey in full force and immediately the tears sprung from his eyes, "You're....going away, aren't you?" He used the same euphemism his mother had been forced to use with him a sectar ago, when she'd had to explain why his first daggit named Muffit wasn't coming back. And also the kindly old lady named Thalia, who'd lived next door to them on Caprica, and who had been like an aunt to Boxey. "Going away" had been the most gentle way of describing death that Serina's journalist mind had been able to think of. Now, it was the only thing Boxey had to say at this point. "Yes, Boxey" his mother managed to nod, "I'm...going away. But....your father will be there to love you and take care of you. And....so many others are there to love you too. Your....grandfather...your Aunt Athena.....you have a whole new family to love you, Boxey. Always....know that." She wished at that instant that she could reach out and wipe the tears away from his face. "And....never forget that I love you. You... won't forget that, will you?" "No," he shook his head, and now the little boy's voice was a near sob. "I...won't forget, Mommy." The sight of him crying so heavily was making it difficult for Serina to maintain the smile she felt she had to keep for as long they kept talking. "Don't cry, Boxey," she whispered, "That's no way for a junior warrior to act. Be strong. Be... the kind of brave boy I know you are. And the brave man I know you'll...one day be." Weakly, Boxey managed to raise his arm and wipe his eyes with his sleeve. "That's better," Serina seemed to relax, "Much better." Her son choked back another sob and then threw his arms around his mother's neck, so he could kiss her on the cheek one last time. "Goodbye, Mommy," he whispered. "Goodbye, my precious son," Serina wished she had the strength to hug him. But at least she was grateful for the fact that they'd had a last talk and that there was no loose end from that standpoint. Adama came up to them, and knelt over his daughter-in-law so he too could kiss her on the cheek. There was so much that Adama wished he could say to the woman he now loved as if she were his daughter by blood, but he didn't know where he could have possibly begun. But the smile on Serina's face was enough to tell him that she understood completely. The commander then took Boxey by the hand and without looking back, they left the room. Apollo and Serina were now alone for what they both knew was the last waning centon for them both. He reached down and stroked her hair again. "Oh, Apollo," her voice was growing weaker and it was now hard for her to keep from shedding tears now, "This really isn't fair to you." "To me?" Apollo's voice cracked, "No. It's not fair to you. If I could trade places with you now...." She shook her head, and in that instant a strange glow of serenity, as befitting her name, seemed to come over her. "Don't. I....look on my life now, and I see a full life. I... want you to know that....I consider myself very, very lucky." she took a breath, "Even if...all we had was...such a precious short time...it was worth an eternity to me." "We'll have an eternity," Apollo said as firmly as he could through his tears. "You and I both. We'll....see each other again. I know that." Serina managed to smile again. "Your heart truly believes that, Apollo?" her voice was growing more indistinct. "You....haven't lost your faith, even now?" "No," he shook his head firmly, "My faith is stronger than it ever could be, thanks to you. A spirit like yours can never end. It has to go someplace with those just like you." "Always let Boxey know that," Serina felt the beginning of a strange sensation come over her. Something that felt neither painful nor horrible, but strangely wonderful and reassuring to her. Something that she knew signaled an end in this world, and a beginning in the next. "I love you, Apollo." she managed to whisper. "I love you," he said as quickly as he could. The last thing Serina's eyes saw was her husband drawing closer to her, to kiss her on the lips. And then, the sensation she had begun to feel took hold of her completely. When Apollo finished his kiss of her, he looked down and saw her eyes closed, and her smile of contentment as deep as it could possibly be. He took a deep breath, and then wiped away all the remaining tears from his face. Now was the time for total strength on his part. He moved toward the door and idly straightened his uniform so that when the doors opened, everyone on the other side saw him at his full bearing. No one dared say a word to him. Adama was now comforting Athena, while Starbuck had his arm about Cassiopeia. The other warriors, Tigh, Dietra, Boomer and Killian had the deepest looks of empathy they could show. Apollo came over to Boxey, who was still putting up a brave facade and took him down the corridor. Once they were out of sight of the others, he gently put his hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. Almost immediately, Boxey's facade cracked and he was crying again, "I don't want her to go!" he sobbed, "I don't want her to go! It's not fair!" "Boxey, it's okay, it's okay," he hugged him. "It's just her body that's gone. Not her spirit, and not her love for us. We'll always have that, and nothing can ever take that away from us." Suddenly, Boxey stopped crying and in that instant, Apollo realized that his bond to Boxey as a father to a son, had truly been cemented for eternity. "I guess I won't make a good warrior," he said weakly. "You'll make a fine warrior," his father said as he got to his feet and then took him by the hand. "Come on, son. Let's go." And then, the two of them walked away. For both, the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. Epilogue Centars passed for Baltar as he continued to lie sprawled on the floor of the outer chamber to the Ninth Lord's tomb. Still not able to get to his feet thanks to the injury his leg had sustained. His only sense of time was the sight of the open ceiling, which now showed the Kobollian night turning into the overcast day. Time enough for his hatred of Adama to increase to levels he never thought he could have summoned. But why not? It was Adama's fault that he was now in this predicament. He had presented the best possible offer of repentance he was capable of offering to his fellow humans, and thanks to Adama's obsessive belief in an ancient myth, those hopes of redemption had been shattered beyond all possible repair. Now it wasn't possible any longer to make the Cylons pay for the previous Imperious Leader's double-cross of him. He had lost his only avenue of achieving that goal thanks to Adama, and now he had been left with only one alternative if he was to survive. The time had now come for him to truly devote himself as a genuine convert to the Cylon cause of exterminating humanity. For only by achieving that goal did he have any possible hope of long-term survival. To achieve fame and glory within the Cylon Empire by doing something no other Cylon had been able to accomplish. He would be the one to destroy what was left of humanity, and when he did that, he would make sure the Cylon Empire rewarded him in a way where there could be no double-cross this time. That would still take some planning on his part that he wasn't completely sure of how he could pull off, but at the very least it represented a tangible hope of survival. That was something he could no longer achieve with Adama or the human race. So be it, he vowed. If he needed to purge himself of whatever scrap of humanity still existed in him after all this time, then he would do it. As far as he was concerned, he owed the human race nothing from this point forward. But all of this hinged on his finally getting out of this hole that he'd been stuck in for many centars now. The lack of response on the mini-com indicated to him that for whatever reason, the centurions from the shuttle had not been able to make it. Now, his hope rested solely on Lucifer. That the IL would have been notified by the centurions before they left, and that he would send down a search team himself. Given his second-in-command's actions, that was not necessarily a hope he could be fully confident of. Finally though, after more centars of waiting, and seeing the overcast day turn to twilight, he heard the unmistakable sound of Cylon fighters in the sky. That meant that Lucifer had decided it was clearly in his best interest to investigate the centurions' report. Ten centons passed and then he heard the distant sounds of metallic footsteps followed by the whirring noises of centurions. Drawing closer and closer, until he finally looked up and saw Lucifer enter, flanked by two centurions. "Thank goodness, Commander," the IL spoke as soon as he saw Baltar, "We are glad to see that the report was true." "Are you really, Lucifer?" Baltar decided he could afford to talk down to his second-in-command. At this point, he knew that Lucifer was in a situation he could never explain satisfactorily to anyone in the Cylon high command. Least of all, the Imperious Leader who had specifically trusted Baltar with the full command responsibilities, and who would not be pleased to learn of what had happened. And Baltar had every intention of making a report to the Leader that would insure that such defiance on Lucifer's part would never happen again. "But of course, Baltar," Lucifer bowed with deference. "We had feared the worst, when no word came from you, so naturally I felt compelled to take some initiative. Unfortunately, I discovered that such an attack was not well-planned or well-thought. I regret to report the loss of 80% of our fighters, and the unfortunate news that the Galactica has made good her escape for now. We will need at least a day to receive immediate reinforcement from one of our additional outposts before resuming the chase." "Your first lesson then, Lucifer. Always err on the side of caution," the traitor grunted, "Now help me out of here." "Of course. Centurions, help Baltar up and guide him to the shuttle." The two centurions managed to lift Baltar to his feet and with each one holding him, were able to carry him out of the tomb. Lucifer waited for a bit before following them out, trying now to comprehend where he stood at this point. Any thoughts of ambition that he had been harboring only a day ago would now have to be put on some kind of indefinite hold. If anything, he was going to have to perform the distasteful task of showing more deference to Baltar to regain some kind of trust in their working relationship. Without that, he knew that his future opportunities would be reduced to nothing. If showing more deference and humility to Baltar was going to be his lot in life for the short-term, then the only thing he found himself wishing was that Starbuck was still their prisoner aboard the baseship, if only to keep from seeing both of his two computer minds from overloading into self-destruct. Fifteen centons went by, and soon Baltar was loaded aboard the shuttle. It then took off, followed by the two escort fighters for the journey back to the baseship. Leaving behind them, the desolate landscape of Kobol and its crumbling ruins, which now settled back into the empty loneliness it had known for the last seven thousand yahrens, and would continue to know unto eternity. The End