Battlestar Galactica - Perceptions
Virtual Season 2, Episode 10
by Maggie H.
October 8, 2004

From the Adama Journals

     In the course of the last sectar, I have experienced personally the
ultimate pendulum of emotions in both joy and anxiety.  The former stems,
of course, from the happy news of Apollo and Sheba's engagement, and
their eventual sealing, which in all likelihood will not take place for
another sectar or two.  But coupled with this, is the grim reminder of
how we face enemies as great as-- or even more dangerous than-- the Cylon
Empire itself.  Our recent narrow escape from the grasp of a new and
strangely both barbaric, yet advanced, race has made  it  apparent, thank
God, even to the Council of Twelve, that we must fully maintain our
vigilance and our defenses.  Coupled with that is the matter I have still
kept secret regarding Apollo's and Sheba's  terrifying encounter with
Count Iblis, who could conceivably unleash a new trap for us that could
render us powerless with just one wrong decision. 
     And there is one more matter that  I have also been forced to keep
secret-- the fact that one of the slaver aliens, a race called Ziklagi
and capable of altering its form at will, has escaped from custody and is
loose aboard the Fleet. This situation sends a chill through me like no
other in a long while.  The  being, whose origin and goals remain
unknown, has already committed at least one murder, and from what we saw
on the planet Boron-Din, has absolutely no compunction in this regard.
While it is vital this creature be found before more deaths occur, I
cannot risk the possible panic among the people that could result were
these events to become general knowledge, as well as the fact that we are
apparently nearing the territory of this enslaving race. As a result, I
have allowed only six other people to know the full facts; Dr. Salik,
Cassiopeia, Apollo, Colonial Tigh, and Major Croft.  Croft and Tigh have
the daunting, yet critical, task of doing everything humanly possible to
locate this intruder without revealing the true nature of their
investigation to anyone.
     Also, in order that our pilots might be protected while on patrol,
Dr. Wilker's people are working to develop new electronic defenses,
capable of both penetrating the alien's cloak system and blocking their
matter-transport device. I pray to God we succeed. I pray for wisdom as
well. Do we alter course, in the face of this? Do we continue as we have?
I pray, but as yet no sign has been forthcoming.
     These concerns weigh greatly on my mind and soul.  But they are not
the only issues.
     It is because we are a hunted people, always on the run, that I
have, perhaps, failed to adequately address the unique and complex issues
facing the Fleet. At a hard look, while efforts have been made to create
suitable conditions aboard the vast array of ships that comprise our
convoy, they fall far short from what is truly needed.  And so, even in
the face of the anxiety these recent incidents cause me, I am forced to
turn my attention to the immediate problems at hand. Conditions across
the Fleet and aboard each ship are not equitable - and in some cases, I
fear, not even adequate. 
     Without immediate and, perhaps, drastic action, it is quite possible
that the fragile remains of our civilization shall fall apart... as with
the slow spread of decay. Tolerable is not good enough any more, despite
the salvation of our food supply. Most of the citizens of the Fleet still
reside aboard the ships upon which they made their escape from their
Homeworlds. And although many improvements and modifications have been
made - as our limited resources permit - the organization of 
our Fleet... our city in space - for that is what we now are, a
caravaning society - is too haphazard, too weak in places, to sustain us
indefinitely. Changes must be made. And soon.
     By the grace of the Lords of Kobol, all members of the Council of
Twelve seem to share my deep concern, giving us a rare case of much
needed unanimity, where not even the likes of Sire Antipas is prepared to
think of personal self-interest first.  Thus, we have been able to
quickly implement the preliminary stage of what I hope to be vast
improvements for everyone in the Fleet. Step one is to simply get a true
and detailed accounting of each and every member of the Fleet. Such a
census has not been performed since the early days of the Exodus, and it
is painfully obvious that much vital data is missing. I am counting on
all ships' captains to help us rectify that within the next two sectons.
Dr. Wilker has devised a new computer program that will be able to
compile the Fleet's statistics and cross reference even the most minute
detail, once we input the data. That data collection has been assigned to
teams aboard each vessel. Their responsibility is to interview each and
every person on their ship and to evaluate their living conditions.
     Once they have downloaded the information into the central database,
Wilker's program should be able to compile a detailed report to describe
the current status of the Fleet. Aboard the Galactica, I have assigned
the task to Colonial Security and feel more than confident that they will
complete the assignment well within the two-secton time limit. Interviews
have, in fact, already begun with the squadrons. Today they interview Red
Squadron, tomorrow it is Blue, and then Silver Spar the following day.
Once they have finished interviewing all the Warriors and bridge
officers, Colonial Security will move on to the Galactica's support
personnel and civilians.
     Interviews of all Fleet citizens will begin once all ship's captains
have established the teams that will carry out the task. In preparation,
I will make a general Fleet-wide announcement in two or so days.
I am convinced that once the data is compiled and analyzed, we will see
the need for many changes, including the better organization of Fleet
resources and consolidation of some, if not many, of our services, not
the least of which is the education of the Fleet's children.
     My greatest fear, though, is that to truly create a solid and
healthy society within the Fleet, the changes called for will be
dramatic, if not radical, requiring everyone to alter their ways of
thinking to some extent. Unfortunately, throughout the history of
humanity, drastic change has never been achieved lightly nor with ease. I
fear... people will resist, and then we risk falling into... chaos.
     May the Lords of Kobol guide us away from that path.
     Already, I see the signs. Most troublesome is the Il Fadim, the sect
on the Sagittarius that claims to base their beliefs on the Old
Teachings. Yet, they do nothing more, from what I can tell, than spread
discord and fear. I have sent several religious leaders from different
faiths and from different Homeworld to meet with them. All return with
the same message - that their leader, a man named Sherok, will not listen
to reason. Given that the group has, as of yet, done nothing illegal. I
am stymied. I can do nothing more than order that they be monitored
closely by Council Security. To detain them, to arrest Sherok or any of
his followers without clear cause, would, I fear, set a dangerous
precedent and lead to only deeper troubles. For now, the Council has sent
more personnel to the Sagittarius to monitor the situation and to, I
pray, keep the peace.

CHAPTER ONE

     Starbuck glanced at his chrono as he dropped from his viper's
cockpit down to the tarmac of the Sagittarius' landing bay and jogged off
towards the lifts.  30 centons.  The Colonel had been quite clear, even
after the lieutenant had received Apollo's approval.  He had to be back
on  the Galactica by 0900.  Blue Squadron had a full schedule that day,
between cadet training sessions and drills on the laser range, and - as
Tigh had put it - they couldn't afford to have their pilots gallivanting 
around the Fleet, wasting precious  fuel.  
     Frak, thought Starbuck.  They always had a full schedule, be it
routine patrols, cadet training sessions, or inspection duties.  When
they weren't fighting prehistoric creatures, twisted gangsters,  or
barbaric alien races.  Furlons seemed to come few and far between,
lately, since the disaster on the Spica.  The fact that the lieutenant 
just recently  had been granted a full secton-long  furlon after his
mission to defeat the dastardly Association on the Rising Star had made
Tigh scowl at him even harder. 
     Starbuck had calmly explained that he had made a promise to a
certain blonde four yahren-old and her mother, and that it was his duty
as a Colonial Warrior to follow through on that promise.  Did the Colonel
want him to appear uncaring in the eyes of this innocent child?  Tigh had
bit his lip to withhold any comments that might have been on his mind and
had acquiesced.  But.  If he weren't back by 0900, the Colonel had
promised him another fun-filled secton... inspecting the sanitation
ships.
     The lieutenant sighed as he hurried out of the landing bay and took
the lift to the passenger level.  He wasn't sure why colonel Tigh was so
uptight, but he suspected it had something to do with the fact that the
man had not had a furlon since... when?  Starbuck could not recall the
Colonel ever taking so much as a day off to relax and have fun.  A slow
smile spread across the Warrior's lips as he waited for the lift reach
level seven.  Perhaps he needed to talk to Apollo about arranging a
vacation for  the Colonel.  He grinned to himself, several ideas
percolating in his head.
     The doors swooshed open, and Starbuck stepped into the short
corridor that led to the _Sagittarius_' Commons Area.  The section held
the ship's commissary, recreation facilities, communication booths, and
converted storage compartments that were now small shops, all spaced
around a wide-open central area, scattered with tables, chairs, and
makeshift benches  for the people to meet and relax.  He had sent a
message to  Mairwen for her and Cassy to meet him there at 0830, and he
hoped she had received it and would be prompt. He glanced at his chrono
again and snorted.  26 centons.  This would be tight, very tight.  
     As he turned the corner, he focused back on locating Mairwen amidst
the crowd of people already gathered.  He stopped to stare, squinting as
he scanned the tables and benches--
     "You're holding up the line, bud, now move!"
     Starbuck swung his head in the direction of the voice. A man,
dressed in a server's uniform, stood at the end of one of the three
commissary  serving lines that emptied out into the Commons Area off to
his left.  His face was red and screwed in a frown as he motioned for the
next customer to hurry up.  The lieutenant would have ignored the scene
had he not caught a glimpse of the customer: a tall, thin,
scraggly-looking man who stood frozen in place, his hands gripping his
tray, his eyes glued to the floor.  Even from a distance, he looked
terrified to Starbuck.  And that piqued his curiosity. 
     The Warrior had taken no more than two steps, however, when the
server, a large, heavily built man, roared, "Come on!  Move your astrum!" 
He shook a fist at the customer, who flinched, twisting his ear towards
his shoulder, but otherwise, did not move.  
     Starbuck frowned and walked more quickly.  Whatever the problem
might be, he couldn't see how it warranted this kind of reaction from the
server.  And once again, as he trotted closer, he was struck by how...
terrified the other man seemed.  No, something wasn't right.  Then he
noticed the woman who was next in line.  She moved between the two men
and looked at the big worker, her eyes pleading.  She said something, but
Starbuck wasn't close enough to hear.  Then she leaned in to whisper to
the other. 
     "I don't have time for this!"  Ignoring the woman, the server shot a
hand forward to grab the man.
     Starbuck stepped deftly between the two, catching his  arm by the
wrist.  "Is there a problem?"  he held tight to the man's arm and stared
into his eyes.
     "Damn frakking right there is!"  The worker yanked his hand back and
glared at the lieutenant.  "This nutcake is always holding up the line! 
People have things to do, shuttles to catch.  They can't be waiting ten
centons to get their morning meals because some mental case can't make up
his mind, even though he gets the same frakking order every single time!" 

     Starbuck gazed at the raging man, who had sweat beading and dripping
from his forehead and purple veins bulging, and let him blow off his
steam.  After a centon, the man paused  to glare at the lieutenant,
sucking in lungfuls of breath.  
     Starbuck didn't have a chance to respond, however.  An
ear-splitting, high-pitched wail pierced the momentary silence.  The
Warrior swing around to see the other man had dropped to the floor,
curled himself into a fetal ball with his hands pressed against his ears,
and was screaming.  The woman knelt next to him, looking anguished and
helpless.
     "Get that lunatic out of here!"  The server's enraged voice boomed
through the screams.  
     Starbuck turned to face the man, jabbing a finger at him.  "Hey,
just back off!" he shouted above the continuing din, seeing Council
Security approaching from the corner of his eye.  "And calm down!" 
     The server took a step back, clamped his mouth into a thin frown,
and crossed his arms, glaring with barely contained rage at the
lieutenant.
     "Thank you!"  Starbuck gave him a quick, humorless smile and turned
to assess the situation behind him, just as three security guards rushed
up.  One of them had his weapon drawn.  Another reached to yank the
terrified man to his feet.  Reacting on instinct alone, and sensing that
the situation could quickly turn  chaotic - as if the piercing  screams
weren't chaotic enough-- Starbuck stepped in front to shield the man. 
"Just hold on!"
     The guards stopped.  And, blessedly, so did the screams.  Starbuck
felt his ears ringing as he said, "I don't know what the problem is,
exactly..."  he nodded towards the drawn laser.  "But I hardly think
that's necessary."  He kept his eyes focused on the guards and his
expression calm.
     The one stared for a moment behind the Warrior, then put his laser
back into its holster.  "Look," another said,  "with the problems those
Il Fadim types keep stirring up, we can't be too careful."
     The third stepped to within a few centimetron of the Warrior,
scowling.  "The last time I checked," he said, "Council Security had
jurisdiction here.  Not you  Colonial Warriors."
     Starbuck rolled his eyes.  This guy had obviously been hanging
around Sargent Reese way too long.  "All I'm saying," the lieutenant
said, keeping his tone even and clamping down on the urge to make a
sarcastic comment, "is that from what I saw, this guy's just scared."  He
shot a glance to where the customer now sat curled in the arms of the
woman.  "Not a threat."
     The guard sucked in a slow breath, staring past Starbuck to the
scene on the floor behind him, to the scowling worker, who was muttering
under his breath, and back to the Warrior.  "Well we can't just leave
them there," he said finally, the annoyance still evident in his voice,
but his tone less challenging. 
     Starbuck smiled his most charming grin.  "Tell you what," he said,
putting an arm across the guard's shoulders and leading him towards the 
grumbling server.  "Why don't you see to this man's complaint - because
I'm sure that he'd love to tell you exactly what happened - and you
two--"  Starbuck flashed his grin at the other guards.  "You can get this
poor man's business rolling again.  As he said, these customers need to
eat so they can get to work."  He waved towards the stunned looking faces
still in line in the commissary.  "And I'll help this fellow out of the
way."  The security guards gave the lieutenant a quizzical look but
nodded, since it was as good a plan as any.  
     As the three moved away, Starbuck, releasing  a long, slow breath,
turned to the two on the floor.  Already people were stepping carefully
around and past them as the server, waving off the security guard,
concentrated on getting his line moving again.  The strange man who had
started this all sat curled against the woman, leaning against her arms
as he rocked back and forth ever so slightly, wide eyes staring vacantly
ahead.  Starbuck knelt down next to them.  "Is he all right?" he
whispered to the woman.  "Can he move?"
     Short, dark hair framed a worried face as she lifted her head to
gaze at him.  She nodded and gulped in a breath before answering, "Yes, I
think so."  Tears glinted in her eyes, and she wiped quickly at them,
then turned to her companion.  She whispered something in his ear that
even Starbuck couldn't quite catch.  But he started to climb to his feet.
     "Here, let me--"  Starbuck moved to steady the man.
     "No, don't," she said, shaking her head.  "Please don't touch him."
     Starbuck drew his hand back and watched, puzzled and concerned, as
she slowly guided the other to his feet.  The man kept his gaze fixed on
the floor and clung tightly to the woman's arm.  For a moment they just
stood without moving or speaking.  Then gently she began guiding him
towards the corner that led to the exit.  Starbuck stared after them. 
After a moment, the man seemed to relax, and his hands slipped down to
his side.  They paused, and the woman gave the warrior a faint smile. 
"Thank you," she said. "You don't know how much your help back there
meant."  And then she turned and led the man on out.  
     For a moment, Starbuck thought about going  after them, because he
was both troubled and vastly curious about this odd man.  A myriad of
questions crowded through his head as he actually took a step in the
direction of the exit.
     Until a hand on his arm stopped him.  "I thought you said you had to
be back by 0900?"
     "Oh, fr--" Starbuck caught his tongue as he snapped his head around
to see Mairwen standing next to him, with  Cassy behind her.  The little
girl looked wide-eyed and scared.  He bent down to scoop her up.  As he
hugged her against him, he frowned over her shoulder.  "Let me guess. 
It's... "
     "0905."  Mairwen gave him a crooked smile.  
     Starbuck sighed in frustration and carried Cassy to the nearest
bench.  He sat, holding her in his lap, his  brow furrowed, his lips
pursed.
     "Look, if you have to go," said Mairwen, studying him, "we'd
understand."
     Starbuck flashed his grin at her.  "No, I'm not worried about the
time... exactly.  Even Colonel Tigh ought to  give me a break if I tell
him exactly what happened..."  His voice trailed off as his eyes went to
the exit.  Then he looked back to Mairwen with a puzzled expression. 
"What did happen?" he asked quietly.  "Do you know that man?"
     Mairwen sat down next to the lieutenant, careful to keep the
distance between them respectable.  Cassy bounced from Starbuck's lap to
her mother's, to where she could gaze up at him with unabashed adoration. 
The warrior favored her with a big grin and tousled her hair.  
     "I've only seen him a couple of times since we got here,"  Mairwen
said eventually, quietly.  Starbuck continued to flirt with Cassy, but
made eye contact to let her know that he was listening.  "I don't know
his name, but I've heard people talking about him,"  she continued. 
"They say he's mentally deficient, so that woman takes care of him."  
     "Why'd that guy in the commissary get so angry with him?"
     Mairwen sighed.  "I don't know.  I think the man acts...
differently.  Sometimes he moves very slowly, or just stops for no
reason, and..."  she paused to consider her words.  "I think people are
so on edge because of the Il Fadim cult that maybe that worker just... 
snapped."
     Starbuck nodded, remembering the scene.  That certainly made sense. 

     "But," Mairwen said, her voice louder and more cheerful.  "you
didn't come to talk about that.  What did you really want to talk about?"
     Starbuck grinned.  "Ah, yes.  I have a deal for you."
     "Yes?"  Mairwen gave him a puzzled look. 
     "I have all the details worked out, in fact.  If you're interested,
of course," he added as she raised an eyebrow.  
     "Well, if you'd tell me what this deal is, I'll tell you if I'm
interested."
     Starbuck quickly explained that he had a friend who operated a java
kiosk on the Rising Star, a Siress, named Belloby, who wouldn't mind
watching Cassy while Mairwen worked a shift during the day.  And then he
told her what the Siress was willing to pay in daily wages.
     Mairwen stared at him, mouth agape.  "You're joking with me, right?" 

     "Nope!"  Starbuck leaned back against the bench, hands behind his
head.  "I never joke about money, or one's making a livelihood. And I'd
certainly never jerk a friend around. Not about this."
     "But what about paying for her to watch Cassy?  How much will that
be?"
     "Nothing."
     "Nothing?  That's not possible--"  Mairwen frowned at him.  "If
you're just--"
     "She says she misses having children around, and that having a
companion during the day would be all the 'payment' she needs."
     Mairwen looked away, but Starbuck did not miss the glimmer of tears
in her eyes.  "I...  I can't tell you how much this means to us.  This
is more than I ever thought possible..."
     Starbuck stood and scooped Cassy up for another big hug.  "Listen,"
he said quietly.  I grew up without a family, so I know what it's like to
not have much, if anything.  And..."  He let the young girl wriggle free
and watched her as she played with the stuffed equine she had brought
along.  "If I can help even one child not have to go without, then I'll
do it."
     Mairwen smiled at him.  "Well, thank you.  I know you'd better go,
since you're more than a little late, now, but..."  She leaned in a gave
him a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Thank you."
     Starbuck flashed his grin one more time.  "Don't mention it," he
said.  "I'll have Siress Belloby contact you so that you two can work out
the specifics."  He glanced at his chrono and winced.  "Gotta go!"  he
turned and sprinted out, waving as he left.
     Mairwen watched him disappear around the corner and sighed.  

********

     "... should take no more than eight days."  Tigh did not miss a beat
as he spoke, but his gaze drilled the lieutenant as he slipped quietly
into the back of the Ward Room, sliding in next to Boomer.  The briefing
had been going on for a full forty centons, already.  The Colonel
narrowed his eyes, still staring at Starbuck as he continued.  "They'll
begin with Red Squadron today, Blue tomorrow, and Silver Spar the next
day, along with as many of the support personnel and civilian workers as
possible.  Expect to spend at least half a centar, and I don't need to
tell you how important this is.  That should be obvious."  Tigh let his
gaze sweep across the Warriors.  "Any questions?"
     The Warriors murmured quietly among themselves, but no one spoke up.
Tigh nodded and said, "Good, then.  Dismissed."
     "What was he talking about?"  Starbuck leaned in close to Boomer as
the others began filing out past them. Out of the corner of his eye he
saw the Colonel glaring as he started towards him.
     Boomer frowned at him.  "Well, if you'd been here like everyone
else, you'd know."  He shook his head and whispered brusquely, "Just
where were you, anyway?"
     "Detained," answered Starbuck.  He opened his mouth to repeat his
question, but broke off as the Colonel stopped in front of him.  His eyes
were narrowed, his lips a thin line, and he stood with  his hands locked
behind his back.
     "See ya," whispered Boomer.  "Maybe."  He nodded to Tigh. 
"Colonel."  And then he turned quickly to leave.
     The buzz of voices had diminished to an uncomfortable silence, as
Starbuck's superior officer stared at him without blinking, saying
nothing.  The lieutenant straightened his back, assuming his most proper
"at attention" stance.  A quick glance around without moving his head
revealed that only Apollo remained, standing off to his right, and his
expression was far from cheery.  Starbuck sighed inwardly, pulled his
shoulders back even more, and focused on the Colonel, awaiting the
inevitable.
     For nearly two centons, Tigh simply stared at him as he paced back
and forth, apparently pondering his fate.  Starbuck kept himself immobile
and expressionless, but with each passing micron, felt the sinking
sensation that even the truth would not be good enough in this case. So
be it, he thought to himself.  He had experienced most of the
disciplinary measures before - and usually for a valid reason.  The worst
that could happen was a loss of the few privileges they still had and
being docked some of his wages.  No big deal.  He'd been through it
before.  The only thing that irked him was that usually such a
consequence was, he freely admitted, deserved.  Like the time he'd snuck 
a bottle of ambrosa into the billet for an after-centars game of
Pyramid--
     Tigh finally spoke, but it was not to Starbuck.  "Captain, make the
following adjustment to the duty roster for the next secton."
     The lieutenant clenched his teeth.  Great, he's not even going to
give me a chance.  His eyes flickered to Apollo, but his friend had his
gaze focused on the compupad in his hand. 
     "Lieutenant Starbuck is to be reassigned for the next secton to
assist..."  the Colonel began.
     Reassigned?  "Look, I can explain--"
     "The lieutenant will remain at attention!"  Tigh cut him off and
stood nose to nose with the Warrior, doing his best drill sergeant
imitation. 
     "I--"
     The Colonel swung to face Apollo.  "Make that for the next two
sectons."  He turned back to Starbuck, silent, his looking daring him to
say anything further.  
     The lieutenant clamped his jaw and stared straight ahead, wondering
why  his superior officer seemed to have his briefs twisted.  This was
dramatic, even for the Colonel.
     Tigh let out a slow breath and continued after another several
centons.  "Lieutenant Starbuck is to be reassigned for the next two
sectons to the _Orphan Ship_ to assist with the implementation of several
new programs."
     _Orphan Ship_?  Starbuck thought in surprise.  He met Tigh's stern
gaze.  Perhaps there was a method behind the Colonel's madness, after
all...
     "Effective tomorrow," continued Tigh.  "Following your interview
with Colonial Security.  And I'll be happy to arrange for you to be the
first one."  At last, the Colonel gave a dry smile.  He took several
steps back and let his gaze slowly sweep up and down the lieutenant, not
failing to notice the beads of sweat gathering along the Warrior's brow
as he held himself at rigid attention.  "One last thing," he said,
turning to exit.  "I expect a full report - on my desk within the next
centar - as to why a Deputy Squadron  Leader could possibly be 40 centons
late for a mandatory briefing."  With that, Colonel Tigh spun on his heel
and strode out of the Ward Room.  
     Not until he heard the doors swoosh closed did Starbuck let his
shoulders sag with a long exhalation.  He turned a cautious gaze towards
Apollo, who was leaning against a support column, arms folded across his
chest, shaking his head and frowning at him.  
     "What interview?"  Starbuck finally asked, breaking the silence.
     "You'd know if you'd been on time--"
     "Look-- " Starbuck suddenly found himself nose to nose with his
friend as his frustration burst through.  "This was beyond my control! 
I--"
     "Save it for your report!" snapped Apollo.  He jabbed a finger at
the lieutenant's chest.  "It's like the Colonel said, we can't have
senior officers setting the precedent that they can miss mandatory
briefings on a whim.  It sends a message to all the new cadets.  The
wrong message."
     Starbuck took a step back and stared at the captain. He expected
Colonel Tigh to pull rank, but Apollo...?  The lieutenant studied his
friend in silence, for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. 
"Just what did I miss?" he said slowly.  "What's happened that I'm not
aware of?  If," he added, unable to contain the hint of sarcasm, "I might
ask, sir."
     Apollo's expression went dark.  "Nothing,"  he snapped, but Starbuck
could tell that the anger was no longer directed towards him. "Just the
Council of Twelve suggesting that military standards are slipping.  That
discipline is lax and our Warriors, especially the new cadets, are ill
prepared to defend the Fleet.  That's all."
     Starbuck let out a long, slow whistle.  "I see.  And when did all
this come down?"
     Apollo closed his eyes, frustration washing into weariness.  "Just
this morning, early.  The Council called a 'Special Session' to discuss
the 'State of the Fleet.'  According to my father, it was basically just
a gripe session.  But one of the points that came up was some perceived
shortcomings in the military, lately." Apollo shook his head.  "Who knows
where they got their information, but the point remains," he said,
"certain members of the Council will latch on to *any*  detail, true or
not, if it might make Father look anything less than competent."
     Starbuck let his eyes drop to the floor and shuffled his feet. 
"Look, buddy, I'm sorry."
     Apollo slapped his friend on the shoulder.  "Hey, I'm sure you did
have a good reason for  being late."  he glanced at his chrono.  "So
you'd better get busy on that report."
     "Right."  He chewed his lip.
     The captain turned to leave, then looked back.  "Oh, at least you're
lucky the Colonel delayed your reassignment until tomorrow."
     "Oh?"  Starbuck raised an eyebrow, feeling anything but 'lucky,' so
far, that morning.
     "Yeah, you still get to play in the Triad match tonight.  And with
us going up against Boomer and Castor, and our title at risk, I'd have
hated to play with a sub."
     "You're all heart."  Starbuck gave his friend a lopsided grin as
Apollo strode on out.  Then, with a heavy sigh, he headed for the nearest
comcenter.  Hope my luck is better than this for tonight's game, he mused
as he sat down to type up his report.

CHAPTER TWO

     "Ah, there you are," said Sheba, as Cassiopeia entered the
spectator's balcony. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make
it."
     "There was a last minute emergency in Life Station," replied the
medtech, handing out cups of steaming java and mushie bars to her
friends. "Here, I stopped by Starbuck's kiosk and got these... anyway,
one of the maintenance workers in hydroponics fell and broke his legs.
He'll be okay, though." Cassie took her seat, and looked at the arena's
chrono. "Still have a centon or three, I see." She took a sip of her
drink. "How was the pre-game show?"
     "About the same as always," said Athena. "Zed and Zara at their
finest."
     The med-tech frowned, "When did Zara become Zed's analyst on triad
matches?"
     Sheba smirked, "Ever since Starbuck's disastrous performance as
guest analyst last secton made every triad player vow never to work
alongside Zed again no matter how many cubits they were offered.  And
since the smart people in the IFB know that if Zed were talking solo the
whole match, no one would ever want to listen...."
     "Ah," Cassiopeia nodded as she remembered how she'd shared
Starbuck's embarrassment that night.
     The women laughed.  "Too bad that happened.  Any warrior would be
better on screen then either of those two." Athena said.
     "Yeah, but can you imagine Zed or Zara in a Viper?" asked Sheba,
deadpan. Cassie nearly spit out her java laughing.
     "Oh yes. I can hear the Cylons now 'Zed approaching, Imperious
Leader. We must surrender!' '' Her rendition of a Cylon's digital voice
made Athena bellow in jocularity.
     "If only," said Athena, wiping spilled java from her uniform.
     "And speaking of Boomer," Sheba went on, "How is he? Besides taking
all the broadcast awards? I haven't seen much of him since you two got
back from the agro ship."

     "He's back in barracks, and in the Commander's good graces."
     "Well, helping to save the Commander's life back on that planet
probably had something to do with it, I would imagine," said Cain's
daughter. "Not that you did all that bad, from what I heard. taking out
one of those goblin things with a sword." She gave a mock expression of
awe. "Athena: Warrior Princess!"
     "Well, yes." Athena tried to ignore the praise implicit in Sheba's
words. "Anyway, I don't see as much of him now that we're back on our
normal duty cycles. I'm on the bridge, and he's out on patrol." There was
a wistful air to her voice which both women did not fail to catch.
     "How's it going with the Kians?" asked Cassie. "They coming along?"
     "Great. Both are learning to write now, and Major Croft is very
happy with the survival skills they are teaching his Elite Forces guys. I
had no idea there were so many ways to make a knife out of virtually
anything."
     "Technology makes us soft, sometimes," said Cassie. "I have no idea
what I'd do without bone welders and medical scanners to treat patients."
     "Or Vipers," finished Athena. "But they just don't seem to have much
of a sense of, well, propriety. The privacy of other people doesn't seem
to connect for them." Athena opened her mushie bar, and took a bite. "I
mean, there we were, Boomer and I, alone, or so we thought, in some
shrubs and wildflowers clear on the other side of the dome from them, and
suddenly they just burst through. I mean, did it matter that we were..."
Athena stopped, eyes wide, her face turning a shade of red almost a match
for her mushie. "Uh, I..." She took a deep swallow of her java. "Is the
air conditioning off in here? It's kind of..." She looked up, to see both
women staring at her, expressions a mix of laughter and shock. She buried
her face in her hands, muttering something like "Oh God!"
     "Athena?" asked Sheba, first to break the awkward silence. "You and
Boomer...I mean..."
     "Athena?" asked Cassie, gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. 
     "Me and my big mouth. I promised I wouldn't say anything to anyone
about this." She looked up, eying both ladies. "Not until the time was
right."
     "Hey, you know my lips are sealed," said Cassie. "Consider this a
medical consultation."
     "Why keep it secret?" asked Sheba. "I think it's wonderful, Athena. 
Besides," she then lowered her head slightly and decided that she needed
to say this to make her feel better, "You're not the only two who've
um...had to be discreet recently."
     Athena frowned slightly and then she realized what Sheba meant.  As
Sheba hoped, it made her future sister-in-law relax immediately.
"Thanks," said Athena, "It's not that we feel ashamed about it, it's
just.... we felt waiting was in order. After all, I am the Commander's
daughter, and some people might..."
     "I see," said Cassie. "Yes, there are a few who might see that as
social-climbing on Boomer's part. Currying favor with Adama."
     "It's not like we planned it," Athena said, waving one arm in
emphasis. "We were stuck on Ki, in a lousy damp smoke-filled cave full of
smelly barbarians, and it just...happened. My feelings for...I mean
his...well, it all just came out in one big wave."
     "How does Boomer feel?" asked Cassie.
     "He, well, we both want it to go further. Make this a serious
relationship, but felt we needed to give it some time. Time to see if
what we had was...real." She sighed, shaking her head. "But, after
everything that happened with the agro ship being nearly wrecked, and
people kidnapped and those slaver aliens, I guess the flood of
relief...anyway... That's what happened, in a nutshell." She looked into
her nearly-empty java cup. "So, you two. Nothing about this to anyone?
Please?"
     "Silent as the Tombs of Kobol," said Cassie. "Don't worry, Athena."
     "Do you love him?" asked Sheba. Athena turned to look at her fellow
Warrior, and slowly nodded. Sheba smiled, putting a hand to her shoulder.
Athena put hers atop it, and the two smiled. "Same here. Not a word,
Athena," she paused, "And not a word about what I've told you too. 
Apollo and I, we...don't want Adama to think we're disrespectful of the
Codes."
     "Of course," Athena nodded and then decided to take advantage of her
remark to change the subject, "So how goes it with the sealing plans?"
     "Slower than we'd initially figured, what with all the craziness
that's gone on the last couple of sectons.  We've barely had time to get
together since that little order about tightening discipline in the
warrior ranks came down, and since we're still attached to separate
squadrons that only makes it more difficult."
     "Why not just transfer to Blue Squadron?" Cassiopeia asked.
     "I'm this close to doing that," Sheba held her thumb and forefinger
a fraction of an inch apart, "But the Colonel's put a moratorium on
squadron reshuffling for at least another couple sectons, so that won't
give us a chance to speed up our plans for the short term."
     "Don't stall too long," Cassiopeia said lightheartedly.
     "We won't," Sheba smiled back, "No more than a sectar or five
sectons at the outside.  Nothing too formal or fancy.  Heck, if I had my
druthers I'd probably just wear my uniform to the ceremony."
     Athena laughed, "If you got sealed in a flight jacket and combat
boots, Zara and all other experts on fashion would never let you hear the
end of it!"
     "True," Sheba nodded and then decided it was time for the third
member of the group to open up.  The buzzer sounded. Five centons till
game time. She finally cocked an eye at Cassiopeia.
     "I'm curious," she said slowly, deliberately, her lips curled in a
faint grin. "Starbuck all but missed the mandatory briefing this
morning." She paused, a mischievous look in her eyes as she stared at
Cassie. "Just where was he? Sleeping late?"
     "Sheba!" Cassie gave her a look of mock indignation and slapped her
on the shoulder. Then her face grew more serious. "Late, you say? I guess
that explains the short message he sent midday saying that he's going to
be 'unavailable' for the next two sectons due to, as he put it, 'stirring
up the mong' with Colonel Tigh. He said he's been assigned to the Orphan
Ship for the next two sectons." Cassie sighed. "Effective first thing
tomorrow."
     Athena gave her a puzzled look.  "Well," she said, "if he wasn't
with you... where was he?"
     "He told me last evening that he was going over to the Sagittarius
to talk to Mairwen and Cassy--"
     "Who?"  asked Sheba, her eyebrows raising at the two feminine names.
     "Mairwen and Cassy," the medtech repeated, a wry grin on her face. 
"It's a woman and her 4-yahren-old daughter.  He helped them relocate
from the Spica--"
     "Cassiopeia!"  Sheba and Athena both looked at her in amazement. 
"You're telling me that Starbuck went off to see another woman?" said
Sheba.
     "Will you two stop!"  Cassie shook her head and gave a smirk.  "It's
not like that."
     "Oh?" said Athena, looking more than a little skeptical.  "This is
Starbuck we're talking about, right?" 
     Sheba stared at Cassie, incredulous.  "And he told you he was
going?" She shook her head again.
     "Yes, I'm talking about Starbuck," Cassie said, meeting Athena's
gaze.  "And, yes, he told me all about it," she continued, switching her
gaze to Sheba.  "He--"
     "Why, that--" Sheba spat, frowning.
     "No, no!"  Cassie had to laugh.  "It's all right!  In fact, it's
kind of sweet..."
     Athena and Sheba stared at the medtech in disbelief.  "Okaaaaay,"
said Athena finally.  "Explain, please."
     Cassiopeia let out a long breath and described how Starbuck had
helped to calm the child when they were being evacuated from the Spica
and how she, herself, had met the woman and the child during the routine
medical exams of the passengers.  "This little Cassy knows the score,
too," she added with a smile.  "When I had to treat Starbuck for a broken
arm that day--"
     "Broken arm?" asked Athena.  She didn't recall that detail from the
report on the Spica.
     "Yeah," said Sheba.  "He had a run-in with a crazy passenger, that
'Dravius' guy that keeps eluding all the security teams since then."
     "Ah," said Athena, remembering the security reports now.
     "Anyway," said Cassie, "little Cassy announced to everyone in the
the Life Station that Starbuck was my 'boyfriend.'"  She grinned at the
memory.  "You should have seen his face.  He looked like he wanted to be
anywhere but there."
     "So," began Sheba a bit more tentatively, "what's he doing visiting
them?  It still doesn't sound right."
     Cassiopeia smiled at her friend.  "It's okay. Really.  Starbuck and
I have talked about it, because he was worried that I might
misunderstand.  He said that the little four-yahren-old reminds him of
the kids he knew and saw when he grew up in the orphanages.  And how he
had times when he had nothing."  She gazed at Sheba and Athena, her face
thoughtful for a moment before continuing.  "He said he can't stand to
know that even one kid has to live like he did."
     "He can't save them all," noted Sheba.
     "No," said Cassie, "but now that he knows this little girl, he can
help make things better for her, at least."
     Athena chewed her lip for a moment.  "And this really doesn't bother
you?  That he's spending time with this other woman and her child?"
     The noise of the crowd had picked up as the clock counted down the
centon left until game time.  Cassie glanced at the portal through which
the four players would enter in a few moments, then back to Athena and
Sheba.  "No, it doesn't," she said at last.  "It's a feeling, I guess, an
intuition.  Or maybe the pained look that Starbuck gets when he talks
about how things aren't much better aboard the Sagittarius for them."
Cassiopeia paused to catch Athena's eye.  "I trust him," she said
quietly, her words almost lost in the din of the excited crowd.
     Neither Athena nor Sheba knew quite what to say, but were saved any
further comments by the buzzer.  The game was about to begin.

******

     "Are you sure you want to watch a triad game?" Mairwen stood, hands
on hips, gazing quizzically at her daughter. 
     "Yes! Yes!" Cassy bounced on her toes, swinging her soft equine from
side to side. "Let's go!"
     "All right." She raised her eyebrows and shook her head as she
pressed the door release. "But only for a little bit." Mairwen had not
even known that Cassy knew what triad was - let alone had an interest in
the sport - until a  centar previous, when they had eaten their evening
meal in the ship's commissary. As always, the three vidscreens in the
Commons Area had been tuned to the IFB, with some news-type commentary
program droning on. Mairwen seldom took notice of them; she preferred to
eat quickly and return to the quiet and safety of their tiny compartment.
Sometimes, she arranged to meet one of the few people whom she had gotten
to know over the past couple of sectars, but even then, they would hurry
through the meal and then head back to either the friend's quarters or
hers for any real socializing. In her mind - as with so many others
aboard the Sagittarius - the less time spent out in the Commons Area, the
better.
     Cassy, on the other hand, spent much of the time during their meals
gazing around at everything and everyone, barely eating. In fact, had it
not been for her daughter's excitement and anticipation of each trip to
the commissary, Mairwen would have brought the food straight back to
their compartment, since that was where they usually ended up eating it,
anyway. But the little girl had so few opportunities to leave their tiny
space as it was. Thus, three times a day, they would visit the Commons
Area, select their meal, sit for maybe fifteen centons so that Cassy
could gaze at something other than four enclosed metal walls, for a least
a brief time, and then they would finish their meal back in their
quarters. Usually, the brief excursions seemed to satisfy the girl--
until this evening, when she had caught sight of announcement about a
triad game on one of the vidscreens . 
     The eager child had pointed and said with excitement, "Look! Look! I
want to watch that!"
     Mairwen had turned to see the last microns of the announcement
before the screen switched back to the news commentary. "What? Triad?"
     "Yes! Yes!"
     "Whatever for?" Sitting in the Commons Area with a crowd of triad
enthusiasts was the last place she wanted to be with a four-yahren-old.
     "Because it looks fun!" Cassy's grin stretched from ear to ear and
her eyes sparkled. "And, and, because--"
     "Okay," Mairwen had said, interrupting to catch her gaze. "But
listen first."
     Cassy had nodded staring at her mother.
     "We can only stay for a little bit."
     Cassy's smile had momentarily dropped, but she had said, "Okay!" And
then she had bounced ahead as they had headed back to their compartment.
     Mairwen knew the games were broadcast live twice a secton at 2000.
She also knew that the Commons Area would be jam packed. And with that
many people gathered, it would be an open invitation for the Il Fadim to
stir up trouble. But it would tear at her heart to say "no" to Cassy's
request, so maybe if they just went or a bit, enough to satisfy her
daughter's curiosity - surely she'd find the game uninteresting after a
few centons, which was about the length of her attention span, anyway.
     So Mairwen took a deep breath as she grasped Cassy's hand and led
her across the threshold. As the door whooshed closed behind them, she
bit her lip as she felt her heart thumping against her chest, then
squared her shoulders. "Okay, Sweetie," she said with a forced smile,
"let's check out the triad game." 
     "Yeah!" Cassy skipped and hopped beside her mother as they headed
down the long, narrow corridor. 
     "But only for fifteen centons," Mairwen reminded her. "Because then
it will be bedtime."
     "Okay, okay, okay!" the girl chanted in a singsong voice. 

*******

     "Go, go, go, go!"
     The chant of the spectators erupted into a cheer as the four
players, locked arm-in-arm in a circle, broke ranks as the ball shot into
play. Within microns, Boomer snagged a ricochet off the wall and leaped
to slam it into the goal for the first point of the game.
     "Woo hoo!" Athena jumped to her feet, waving her arms. As she
settled back into her seat, she shot her friends a smug look. "Blue Team
can do it this time," she said. "I can feel it!"
     "Oh?" yelled Sheba, trying to be heard over the noise of the crowd.
She cocked an eyebrow at the Lieutenant. "Boomer hasn't played in over
two sectars, thanks to your stint on Agro Ship One."
     "Might be," responded Athena, still grinning, "but he spent a lot of
time either hauling crates or working out when we weren't on duty."
     Sheba had a comeback on the tip of her tongue, but stopped as the
action continued on the court below. Apollo intercepted a pass from
Castor to Boomer. Swirling, he flung the ball at the wall. It hit at the
precise angle which sent it shooting across, away from Blue Team and
right to where Starbuck slipped into position. He grabbed and threw it
into the goal. The game was now tied. Sheba mirrored Athena's earlier
smug grin. "We'll see!" was all she said.

*******

     Mairwen could hear the excited hubbub from the Commons Area before
she and Cassy rounded the corner to the entrance. As they stepped across
the threshold, the sound blossomed into a dim roar as those gathered in
groups around the three vidsccreens cheered a goal. Pulling up a chair
behind the group closest to the exit, she pulled Cassy into her lap and
squinted for a moment at the view of the game over the heads of the other
people. The tiny figures on the screen were barely discernible; Mairwen
let her gaze sweep around the wide open Commons Area, while Cassy - to
her amazement and bemusement - seemed to stare intently at the game. 
     Those gathered to watch were just the typical residents, a few
adolescents scattered among mostly middle-aged to older faces. Cassy was
the only child that she could see. The crowd seemed transifxed by the
action on the screen, yet, their cheers seemed subdued...even hesitant.
Or could it be just her imagination, Mairwen wondered as her gaze
flickered towards the exit every few centons. Perhaps she was being
overly sensitive. Maybe--
     "There!" said Cassy, pointing towards th game. "There he is!"
     "Who" Mairwen squinted once more at the vidscreen. "Who do you see?"
     Cassy bounced on her knee. "Starbuck! That's Starbuck playing
triad!" 
     "Ah." Sure enough, she could just barely recognize the Lieutenant as
the players hustled about the court, leaping, tumbling, blocking. Of
course, now Cassy's sudden fascination in triad made sense. Mairwen
smiled to herself. Her daughter had obviously heard his name on the
announcement. She hugged the girl against her, nestling her chin on the
top of the soft hair on the little one's head, trying to focus on the
game. 
     "What team is he on?" Cassy asked.
     Mairwen shrugged. "I don't know. I think..." She listened for a
moment. "Gold Team. In the red--"
     "If they're 'Gold Team,' why're they wearing red?"
     Mairwen chuckled. "I don't know. You'll have to ask Lieutenant
Starbuck when you see him again."
     Cassy settled back against her chest, and Mairwen found her self
gazing at the game now, trying to follow the rough and tumble play, and
watching Starbuck as he snagged the ball from the Blue Team's fingertips,
it seemed, leaped into the air, swirled, and passed it to his teammate,
Captain Apollo. And the others? She wasn't sure and didn't recognize
their names. Everyone, however, knew of Apollo and Starbuck, the
Commander's son and his wingman. They were the heroes of the Fleet, after
the last battle against the Cylons. The IFB had touted their incredible
feat of infiltrating the Baseship to knock out its sensors - and
returning to tell the tale.
     A true hero, reflected Mairwen, glancing down at Cassy, who stared
in innocent awe at the screen. He had certainly brightened the life of
this small girl, when almost anyone else would never have bothered to
care. She smiled, letting herself enjoy watching the game - and Starbuck.
     But only for a moment. A sudden chill hit her, and she glanced at
her chrono. "Hades," she whispered. They had been there for over thirty
centons. 

********

     Cassie's eyes darted from friend to friend, and her lip curled into
a faint smile. Both were absorbed by the game and the friendly
competition, letting their emotions carry them and not afraid to let go.
And both radiated a pure... joy... that she had not seen from either
since she had gotten to know them. Athena and Boomer might be keeping
their budding relationship low key, taking it slowly, as she had said,
but Cassie, seeing through a woman's eyes, could read the young bridge
officer's true feelings from the glow in her eyes as she followed
Boomer's every move on the triad court. And Sheba... no two people could
be more in love than she and Apollo. And about time, Cassie reflected.
With all they had lost, all of them deserved to be happy, for a change.
     Cassie sighed and turned her attention to the court. She felt a bit
like the odd one out. True, Starbuck had all but committed himself to
her, with his actions if not his words. She had achieved the unheard of
with him - he had been faithful to her for over six sectars - and their
bond seemed to be growing stronger and deeper. She should have felt the
same joy that she saw radiating from Athena and Sheba. And she would
have... had it not been for one little detail. 
     The lie. The cover up. The deception. And Chameleon's refusal to
acknowledge that they had both been wrong - woefully, dangerously wrong -
to conceal the truth from Starbuck. Her heart told her that, now. At the
time, when she had promised the old man that she would not reveal the
truth, but would let him do so when "the time was right," she had been so
enveloped with the emotions of the moment that she had believed
Chameleon. Had trusted him. Now, she knew that, for the old man, the time
would never "be right." He was selfishly and childishly afraid to admit
it - at least, that's how Cassie now saw it. Her last (maybe final?)
conversation with Chameleon a couple of sectons ago, when she had
contacted him from the Life Station during a quiet night shift, had
confirmed that feeling in her mind. 
     For a time following that conversation, Cassie had felt content that
she had made the necessary effort to convince Chameleon to tell Starbuck
the truth, thus absolving herself. But after a few days, that feeling had
eroded into an uneasy, intangible sensation that she needed to do more.
She had to tell him herself. Breaking her word to Chameleon did not
bother her anymore- not after that conversation. But facing Starbuck did.
Oh, Lords, did it send a chill through her.  She knew how he would react.
She knew him far to well to not know how he would react. But she had to
do it. Had to. She valued honesty more than anything in a relationship. 
     She would tell him. Soon. Just as soon as they could find a moment
alone. Which, now that he had been assigned to the Orphan Ship for the
next two sectons, would probably not be until after he returned. She bit
her lip and tried to turn her focus back onto the game. Now that she had
resolved to do this, she wanted to get it over with. The waiting was more
torturous, she was beginning to think, than actually enduring Starbuck's
reaction. 
     "What's wrong?" 
     Cassie snapped her eyes up to find Sheba staring at her, her brow
furrowed in concern. "Nothing." Cassie forced a smile. "Just wishing
Starbuck hadn't gotten himself reassigned for the next two sectons..."
Well, it was the truth, at least, partly...
     Sheba shook her head, smiling. "Yeah, I can imagine." Then her
attention switched back to the court as Apollo made yet another
impressive shot to score. She leaped to her feet, screaming in excitement
and shooting smug looks at Athena. The Lieutenant responded by grinning
and shouting encouragement at Boomer and Castor.
     Cassiopeia sighed again and tried to lose herself, as her two
friends had, in the game. After all, the score was tied once again, and
the lead continually oscillated between the two teams. With a bare twenty
centons remaining on the clock, it was anyone's game, still. She joined
Sheba in cheering for Gold Team, willing herself to forget. At least, for
now. 

********

     "Come on, honey, we need to go." Mairwen whispered the words into
Cassy's ear, scooping the lightweight girl into her arms as she stood and
turned to leave. 
     "Just five more centons?" Cassy wriggled, trying to free herself.
     "No!" Mairwen snapped and squeezed the child against her chest. "We
need to leave now."
     Cassy froze at the tension in her mother's voice and stopped
struggling. Instead, she scrunched her fists around a handful of
Mairwen's tunic and buried her face in her shoulder. 
     The woman bit her lip and hurried towards the exit to the Commons
Area, all the while chiding herself for letting the time slip by like
that. How could she have been so careless? She had let herself become
involved in the game, let her guard down, forgotten the constant fear
that gripped her every time they left their quarters... and it had felt
good. For the first time in... forever, it seemed, she had felt relaxed
and happy as she had watched the two teams playing triad. Watched
Starbuck. Remembering with a warm glow how sweet he had been to her and
Cassy. How kind and caring. How...
     She cut the thought off. No. Don't go there. Don't go there, she
chided herself again. Accept his gift of friendship. Treasure it. She bit
down on her lip, fighting back tears as her quick-paced walk turned into
a near run to get back to their quarters. Her flight, however, was no
longer fueled by fear, but a deep ache. A longing. A void left when the
one she loved most dearly and rely upon - probably too much-- had never
made it off Virgon, leaving just her and Cassy on their own for over a
yahren, now.
     No. She was strong, now. Had to be. Would not, could not, give into
the soul-consuming depression that had gripped her in the first sectars
following the Great Destruction. Only Cassy's unbending happy spirit had
kept it at bay and slowly beat it back. Only her bouncing spirit had
given her the strength to endure first the decadent conditions on the
Spica and now the constant fear of these lunatics here aboard the
Sagittarius. Only Cassy, and now... a friend she never expected to
encounter. A friend. Friend, and friend only, she repeated to herself.
Don't go there--
     She rounded the last turn into the corridor that led to their
quarters, her mind lost in the tangled stream of thoughts and emotions.
And gasped in surprise as she collided with the tall, shrouded figure.
"Oh, pardon me. I..." She looked up, the rest of the sentence dying in
her throat.
     "What is the rush?" The voice was low, unhurried, and gravelly, and
long, spindly fingers gripped Mairwen by the elbow as she tried to jump
back.
     She started to scream, but it caught in her throat as she stared up
into the narrow, sallow face and locked her gaze with the piercing,
steel-grey eyes.
     "My, my... such a beautiful child..." The fingers released Mairwen's
elbow and moved to stroke the top of Cassy's blond head. The child
huddled against her mother's shoulder, eyes wide and fearful, shrinking
back from the strange, shrouded figure. The tremble of anxiety that
surged through the small body sparked the woman into action, however. 
     "Don't you touch her!" Mairwen knocked the hand aside and deftly
twisted around the tall man, facing him as she carefully walked backwards
in the direction of her compartment.
     The man shrugged and spread his arms out. "I mean you no harm, my
dear" he said quietly, voice silky, almost reptilianly, smooth, but the
thin smile on his lips sent a shiver down Mairwen's spine. 
     "Get out of here!" she screamed at him, feeling her composure
crumble into a mixture of fear, anger, and shear panic. "Get out!" The
man tilted his head and stared without blinking as she slammed her hand
against the entry pad to her quarters. The door swooshed open, and she
threw herself across the threshold, banging on the inner pad until the
door had once more- with agonizing slowness-- slid shut. Safe at last.
Mairwen sagged against the wall, squeezing Cassy, who was sobbing
quietly, against her chest and breathing in deep, ragged gulps. For
several long centons she remained there, unable to move, the image of the
shrouded man burning in her mind. 


*********

     Tied. Again. At fourteen points. 
     The lead in the triad game had shifted continuously throughout, with
neither team ever holding more than a one-point margin for more than a
few centons. And only seven centons remained. Apollo snagged yet another
rebounded pass from Starbuck, his fingers somehow grabbing the ball as if
they were covered with adhesive. He spun around in midair and shot the
ball through the goal. 
     Lead to Gold Team once more.
     The ball shot back out into play. Both Apollo and Sargent Castor
leaped for it, slamming into each other shoulder to shoulder. Castor,
however, having the height advantage, wrapped his fingers around the ball
just out of the Captain's reach and whipped it to his partner. He and
Apollo tumbled down, both managing to stay on their feet, but winded from
the impact. Boomer dodged around Starbuck's attempt to block him and
locked eyes with his partner. He passed the ball, feeling the the
adrenaline surge as Castor snagged the pass, leaping high and then
slamming the ball into the goal. 
     Score tied.
     A moment later, the ball popped back into play. Apollo caught the
rebound from the wall. He shuffled left, then right, then moved to shoot
. Boomer jumped to block the ball-- only to see Apollo suddenly shoot the
ball towards Starbuck. Boomer felt disgust that he had fallen for the
feint, again, and he leaped to block the shot as Starbuck swung and
released the ball towards the goal. At the same instant, Castor also dove
to intercept the Lieutenant. The ball sailed into the goal. And both
Boomer and Castor slammed into their opponent. The three crashed to the
court in a jumbled tangle of bodies.
     An instant later, the penalty horn sounded. "Unnecessary roughness,"
boomed the official. "Free shot, Starbuck."
     "Frak, frak, frak!" muttered Boomer as he rolled to his feet. That
was not what they needed-- a chance for Gold Team to finally extend their
lead. The frustration melted into concern, however, as he swung around to
see his friend writhing on the floor, gripping his left knee, his face
contorted. "Hey!" Boomer yelled. "You okay?" 
     "Great! Never better," Starbuck groaned through gritted teeth. "Just
dandy and wonderful! Wanna dance?" 
     Boomer exhaled and shook his head. Another buzzer sounded to suspend
the play, and Apollo stooped down next to his fallen partner. Castor
stood, hands on hips, gazing on as a medtech rushed onto the court and
knelt on the other side of the Lieutenant. He ran his hands along
Starbuck's knee and said something Boomer couldn't hear. The reply,
however, was loud and clear: "Of course it hurts! Frackin son of..."
     The med tech waved his hand in the direction of the official, who
gave the buzzer four short bursts to call a substitute. 
     Boomer caught Castor's eye and sighed in exasperation. If they won,
now, with Apollo paired with a sub, it just wouldn't be the same. He
stared back down to his friend. The med tech had removed Starbuck's
protective padding to reveal an already swollen knee with an angry,
molten bruise. Ouch. 
     "Can you walk?" asked the medtech.
     Starbuck glared at the man, glancing quickly towards Apollo and the
others, then up towards the spectators. "Just get me up, all right?"
     With the Captain on one side and the medic on the other, the two
hoisted the lieutenant to his feet. The crowd cheered, and Starbuck waved
briefly in their direction, then set his jaw, determined to walk off the
court. He took one tentative step, however, and nearly toppled to the
ground. Apollo caught his arm, pulled him up, and slipped his own
shoulder under Starbuck's left arm to support him.
     Growling, the lieutenant brushed off the medtech but allowed Apollo
to assist with his less-than-triumphant departure from the triad game. He
forced a smile and waved at the spectators as they cheered, all the while
maintaining a stream of expletives under his breath as each step sent
piercing pains through his knee. "Frakking goll monging piece of--" he
growled as they stepped out into the corridor and the door slid shut. And
came face to face with Cassiopeia. Behind her stood two more medics with
a stretcher. "I don't need--" he snapped.
     "Cut the felgercarb." Cassie stuck a finger at Starbuck's nose. "And
quit acting like a two-yahren-old. The last thing you want to do is
exacerbate the injury by trying to play hero. Now sit down." She pointed
towards the stretcher, which the medics had placed on the deck.
     Starbuck opened, then shut his mouth, and let Apollo ease him down
onto the stretcher. 
     "Gotta go, buddy," Apollo said quietly, glancing up as Barton, the
lieutenant's substitute, arrived. He gave his friend a slap on the
shoulder. "I'll check in after the game." Then he and the flight sargent
trotted back onto the court. 
     The sound of the crowd crescendoed momentarily as the doors opened,
then slid shut, cutting off the noise and leaving a sudden silence that
echoed in the ears. Starbuck whipped off his helmet, slinging it aside,
then closed his eyes as he ran his hands over his face and through his
sweat-drenched hair, all the while mumbling more choice words.
     "Take it easy, okay?" 
     The Lieutenant opened his eyes to see Cassie kneeling next to him,
running a scanner over the injured joint. Her words were curt but her
eyes revealed concern. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave a soft
smile, then nodded to the other medtech. Starbuck let out a long,
exasperated breath and briefly noted that the man   had finished wrapping
his knee surprisingly fast. 
     "Ready to transport," the medtech said, nodding to the other two. To
Starbuck he said: "Just lay back and enjoy the ride. We'll be back on the
Galactica in about 30 centons."
     Cassie gently guided him onto his back, and the medics hoisted up
the stretcher. Starbuck gave one more defeated sigh and gazed at the
ceiling. "Perfect ending to a perfectly rotten day," he muttered. "Praise
the Lords of Kobol!"

CHAPTER THREE

     "What do you mean I have to stay here another 12 centars?" Starbuck
stared in at Dr. Paye. "It's not like I broke a leg!"  If eyes were
lasers... 
     "Well," the doctor said, "actually, a break would have been much
easier and simpler to repair. And we could have had you in and out in a
mere 20 centons."
     Starbuck smacked the bed with his hand. "But it's just a twisted
knee!"
     "Well, actually, you had torn ligaments and a ripped hamstring,"
said Paye calmly. "Along with the associated neural trauma. We can repair
the damage, but it takes more time to regenerate and heal soft tissues,
especially around a joint, such as the knee, where we're dealing with a
combination of cartilage, ligaments, and muscle. And we-- "
     "All right! All right!" Starbuck waved his hands to cut off the
medical lecture. "I get the picture." He pulled the sheet from the biobed
up around his chest and shifted uncomfortably, carefully, unwilling to
admit that the movement was still painful, despite the soft brace that
had been wrapped around his knee following the first regenerative
treatment. 
     Starbuck glanced at the chrono on the wall and sighed. 0710. He'd
had a whole three centars of sleep, given that it had been nearly 2300
when he'd been carried into the Galactica's Life Station. The emergency
treatment had taken a little over two centars. By then, the Lieutenant
had felt exhausted and had drifted off into a blissful sleep, despite the
tender, throbbing knee. For a whole two centars. At that point, the night
medtech had awakened him to poke and prod him and check his vital signs,
despite his loud protests that it was just a twisted knee - not a major
transplant.
     "Standard procedure," had been the reply.
     The medtech had disappeared back into the Salik's office 20 centons
later, but Starbuck had been too annoyed to fall back to sleep. So he had
shifted and turned as much as possible and grumbled until nearly 0600,
when he'd finally fallen back to sleep.
     And then the morning cycle shift had arrived, which meant another
round of poking and prodding and questions such as, "Well, Lieutenant,
how do you feel?"
     "Frakking tired and sore, since no one lets a guy sleep around
here!" he had snapped at Dr. Paye, who had ignored him and continued with
his list of questions.
     And now to find out that he had twelve more centars of this...
     Paye folded his arms and looked down at the Lieutenant. His voice
was slow and patient - as one might address a young child. "Well, we have
to repeat the regenerative procedure two more times before we can ensure
that the tissues will be completely healed. And then you'll be released."
     "And back on duty?" Starbuck asked.
     "Well, not right away. You'll need to rest for two days, but then
you'll be permitted to return to light duty."
     "Yeah, rest up from a lack of sleep," Starbuck muttered as the
doctor moved away.
     "Oh, it's not that bad," said a familiar voice. He felt a warm touch
on his shoulder and looked up into Cassie's blue eyes. 
     The grumbling frown dissolved into a smile. "Cass..."
     "I can see," she said with mock admonishment, "that you're not
exactly being a model patient." She let her fingers run across his bare
chest; the pile of discarded triad gear still lay on the floor near the
biobed, and she did not fail to note that all he wore, currently, were
military-issue briefs.
     Starbuck caught her hand with his and puller her closer. "I think
the prospect of spending the day here just got brighter." He gazed into
her eyes. "You can check my vitals any time."
     Cassiopeia curled her lip in a sly grin and winked. "My pleasure."
She planted a gentle bite on his chin, with a growl, then pulled back to
a more respectable distance. "Now," she said, "I've got some records to
catch up on, but if you can quit griping at the rest of the staff and
stay out of trouble..." 
     Starbuck pulled the sheet up, draping an arm across his forehead,
and moaned dramatically. "Me? Cause trouble? Oh! Oh, Cassie, I'm too
sick...and I feel faint. It's all going black!" he coughed with equally
bad melodrama. "Maybe you should do a complete exam."
     Cassie cocked an eye at him. "I'm just a medtech. I'd have to call
the doctor to do an exam. Or if you're really that bad, perhaps a priest?
Shall I?"
     Starbuck's eyes went wide. "Suddenly I feel a lot better," he said
quickly. Then he pointed a finger at Cassie. "You would call the
doctor--"
     "You bet, flyboy." Cassie smirked and slapped his shoulder. "Now
behave yourself," she said as she headed towards the duty station.
     Starbuck grinned and watched her move off, admiring the grace to her
movements, then relaxed back onto his pillow, closing his eyes with a
sigh and letting his mind indulge in other thoughts...
     "Sleeping on the job again, I see."
     Starbuck's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright - then
suppressed a groan when the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through
his still-healing knee. "Colonel, I--" He stared at his four visitors.
     "At ease, Lieutenant." Colonel Tigh stood, hands behind his back,
but with the faintest of smiles on his lip. Behind him were Apollo,
Boomer, and Castor. "We just need to confirm your condition before
releasing a statement to the IFB--"
     "You need to do what?" Starbuck's eyes went wide.
     "After half the Fleet witnessed your injury during the triad game,
the Galactica has been bombarded with calls inquiry about your health."
Tigh's face was stern once more. "And they are tying up vital lines of
communication."
     Starbuck glanced at the others, his eyes settling momentarily on
Sargent Castor, then stared up at the Colonel. "Look, Sir, I--"
     The Colonel actually laughed. "You're not in any more trouble, if
that's what you're worried about."
     Starbuck felt his face flush. "I, well... I thought..." He let his
voice trail off. All except Castor looked far too amused at his
discomfiture. 
     "In fact," continued the Colonel, "I'm here to inform you that,
based on the medical report we received from Dr. Paye, your reassignment
to the Orphan Ship will be delayed a secton."
     "Thanks," responded the Lieutenant drily.
     Tigh pursed his lips. "The Commander and I read your report
yesterday," he said quietly, then paused. 
     Starbuck waited, shifting in his bed but saying nothing.
     "All actions that help preserve the peace among the civilian
population are to be commended," he said, "especially in light of the
volatile nature of the situation aboard the Sagittarius. However."
     Starbuck sighed inwardly. There was always a "however," it seemed.
     "The two-secton reassignment aboard the Orphan Ship stands." Tigh
frowned, his gaze growing distant for a brief moment. "It seems that they
- like everyone else - are in need of some extra assistance. So we'll be
sending rotating shifts of Warriors, starting today - next secton, it'll
be you and two others-- until the matter can be resolved."
     "I see," said Starbuck quietly. Tigh arched an eyebrow. "Uh, sir."
     The Colonel straightened his back. "That's not to say that
yesterday's tardiness is excused. Lieutenant. It's not." For a moment,
Tigh's face reminded him of a judge about to impose sentence of death.
"And the official letter of reprimand has both been entered into your
service record, as well as noted in the Council report." 
     Starbuck noted the distaste evident in his superior's voice at the
mention of the Council. To the Colonel, all he said was, "Yes. Sir."
     "Now," Tigh said, "Sargent Castor is here to conduct your
interview."
     "Interview?"
     Tigh narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Interview. For the Fleet census. One
of those details explained in the briefing you missed yesterday." Tigh
handed Starbuck a data pad, containing the text of the missed briefing. 
     "Right, Colonel, sorry..." 
     "It'll only take about 30 centons," said the Colonel, turning to
leave. He stopped and pointed a finger at the Lieutenant. "But full
cooperation is expected from everyone." He then turned on his heel and
strolled on out. 
     "Yes, Sir," muttered Starbuck to Tigh's receding back. He let out a
long, slow breath, then gazed at the other three. Apollo and Boomer
looked amused. Castor, he decided, looked... uncomfortable. "So," he said
with a grin. "Who won?"
     "Blue Team," answered Boomer with a sigh, sounding less than elated.
"Twenty to sixteen."
     "Hey," said Castor, "look, I'm sorry about..." he pointed in the
general direction of Starbuck's injured knee.
     "Forget it!" Starbuck waved a hand. "Just my bad luck to get caught
in the middle of you two."
     "Still..." Castor shifted uncomfortably.
     "Anyway!" Apollo clasped an hand on the Sergeant's shoulder and
smiled. "We won't worry about it. Until the rematch." The Captain turned
to his friend. "How're you feeling?"
     Starbuck shot a quick glance at Cassie, who was busy sorting through
computer discs at the duty station, and grinned. "Welllllll...I get to
spend the day relaxing and being pampered by a beautiful medtech. What
more could I ask for?" He looked at Castor. "Maybe I should be thanking
you and Boomer."
     Boomer rolled his eyes. Castor shook his head and smiled, looking
more relaxed. 
     "Here." Apollo tossed a uniform onto the biobed and dropped his
boots on the floor. "Thought you might like this, instead of the triad
gear, for when you're discharged."
     "Thanks." Starbuck gave his friend a bemused grin, then sighed,
turning his attention to Castor. "So, let's get this viper out of the
launch tube."
     The Colonial Guard pulled a data pad from a pocket and glanced at
Apollo. "Captain," he said, glancing at Apollo, "I can do yours, too, if
you wish. I can access both files at the same time. And the questions
will be the same."
     "Fine with me," Apollo said, pulling up a chair next to Starbuck's
biobed. 
     Boomer sat on the edge of the bed. "He got Red Squadron yesterday.
It's painless, guys."
     "Except for me," the security guard grimaced as he made sure his
data pad was powered up and ready.  "This is the kind of bureaucratic
felgercarb that guys like Komma are better suited for."
     "Come on Castor, even you Elite Squadron types have to do your share
of paper-pushing once in a while," Boomer needled his partner.
     "I guess so, " Castor sighed as he took a centon to type in some
commands on the data pad, then pulled up a chair of his own, turning it
to face the three Warriors and giving them his down-to-business look.
"The purpose of this interview," he said, "is to simply verify Fleet
records and fill in any bits of information that might be missing, for
whatever reason. It shouldn't take more than ten centons, even."
     "Launch. Uh, I mean shoot," said Starbuck, adjusting his throbbing
knee slightly.
     "All right. First, your names." Castor dutifully entered them, along
with each Warrior's rank, age, Colony of birth, length of service,
current posting, marital status, etc. As expected, everything matched.
     "Of course, that's due to change in a few sectons, you know," said
Starbuck.
     "Change, sir?" asked Castor, looking up from his machine.
     "Yeah. The Captain's heading for Death Row, actually." He waited
until he figured Castor had suffered enough. "He's getting sealed."
     "Uh, yes," said Castor, unsure of whether or not laughter would be
good for him just now. 
     "Starbuck!" hissed Apollo.
     Boomer shot his friend a look that could have peeled the paint off
the bulkhead.  "Will you behave yourself," he whispered.
     "Okay, okay!" said Starbuck, hands raised. 
     "Anyway, yes. Lieutenant Sheba and I are getting sealed in a few
sectons," said Apollo. While Castor, like most aboard the Battlestar, had
heard the scuttlebutt of the approaching nuptials, he nonetheless entered
the data as though it were news, and uttered a muted congratulations.
     "Okay, now. Relations aboard the Fleet. By blood or marriage."  
Apollo mentioned Boxey, and Castor nodded as the data tallied. "And you,
Starbuck?"  
     "No relatives, blood or my marriage."
     Castor stared at the data pad,  frowned, then  gave the lieutenant a
puzzled look. "Sir?" 
     "I said, no relatives aboard the Fleet. Either way. I was raised in
an orphanage on Caprica, and spent time in the fostering system." The way
Starbuck said the word "fostering" spoke volumes about his opinion
thereof.  "I ran away when I was sixteen, and joined the service when..."
     "I see that, sir," replied Castor. " 'The Caprica City Children's
Home'. But you do have a relative listed." He glanced away  for a micron
as Cassie dropped something onto the floor.
     "What?" asked Starbuck. "No way. I'm an orphan. Have been since I
was around five yahrens old."
     "Yes, the Cylon raid on Umbra, back in  7322.One of one thousand
forty-seven children listed as surviving the attack."
     "Correct.  No blood relatives."
     "Well, there is a name here. Someone from the Senior Ship."  Castor
paused, casting a confused  look at first Apollo, then Starbuck.  Now
that he thought about it, he remembered running a deep security check for
Colonel Tigh on the very person... Castor frown and shook his head.  "It
must be a mistake, then.  Fleet records list a man named 'Chameleon' as
your  'father'. "
     "Lemme see that!" Starbuck grabbed the data pad. 
     He read it, then read it again. Sure enough, next to a small photo
of the old con man was his name, and relationship to Starbuck. Starbuck
stared at it for a long time, at first not hearing the "What is it,
Starbuck?" When it finally penetrated, he handed the unit to Apollo, who
read it, then looked slowly around towards Cassiopeia. 
     "Cassie?" said Starbuck, turning to look at the medtech, voice as
soft as air. "What am I..." he began, but Cassie dropped her gaze, her
pale face telling Starbuck all he needed to know.  
     Castor rose and stepped back, watching the scene unfold before him. 
Cassie sank into her chair, face buried in her hands.  Starbuck stared at
her, unblinking and expressionless.  Apollo stood up, placed the data pad
on the bed,  and walked slowly towards the medtech, while Boomer, who had
climbed to his feet to stand next to the head of the biobed, stared from
one friend to another, his eyes wide, shaking his head slowly from side
to side.
     "It's true, isn't it?"  The captain said.  Cassie made no response,
but her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.  He placed a hand on a
shoulder and said nothing for a moment.  Finally, he spoke softly. 
"Cassiopeia, why don't you explain.  I'm sure there was a good reason."
     Castor glanced at Starbuck, whose gaze was still riveted on the
medtech.  His face was blank, except for a slight frown creasing his
brow.  "I believe I have all the information I need," said the sergeant,
retrieving the data pad. He paused a moment, aware that no one was
listening, then turned and strolled out, leaving the them to sort out
what he knew would not be a pleasant situation. 
     None  noticed as the door swooshed shut behind the Colonial Security
Guard.  Apollo waited patiently, his hand still on Cassie's shoulder. 
Finally, she  sniffed and wiped at her face with both hands before
looking up to meet his gaze - briefly.  Her eyes flickered towards
Starbuck, then focused on a spot on the floor.  
     "It's true," she said, her voice barely audible.  "I thought - I
mean, Chameleon, he--"
     "You lied to me, Cass."  
     The medtech glanced up at Starbuck, and their eyes locked for an
instant.  What she saw cut through her soul; raw emotion burned despite
his outward calm.  "Chameleon convinced me that it was for your own
good," she said suddenly, loudly, a pleading edge to her voice.  "He was
afraid that you were going to give up everything."  Her words came
rapidly.  "The service and your friends - everything!-- so he made me
promise to let him tell you.  When the time was right--"
     "And just when was that supposed to be?"   Starbuck's voice was
quiet but curt.
     The captain, trying hard to remain objective,  took a deep breath. 
"Look, I understand why Chameleon might have thought that.," he said,
"But he also knew how important it was to him."
     Cassie looked from Starbuck to Apollo to Boomer and back, finally
able to meet his gaze. "I agree," she said. "That's why I've tried to
convince Chameleon to tell you.  In fact, just last secton I telecommed
him personally and told him that he had to finally tell you,  because
those fears of his don't apply anymore.  And Starbuck, you have to
believe me, I didn't mince words with him about it."
     "And what did he say?" his voice was flat.
     "He said he couldn't.  In fact, he gave me the impression that he
wasn't even going to tell you at any point down the line.." She bit her
lip, fighting back the tears again. "Starbuck, I'm sorry--"
     "You could have told me."
     "I--" Cassie stopped, suddenly all too aware of the truth to those
words. "I was going to," she said, weakly. "But I  wanted to give
Chameleon a chance to... ." her voice trailed off as Starbuck just stared
at her.
     Apollo studied the two for a moment, then cast Boomer a quick,
uncertain  look.  "Okay," he said, breaking the awkward silence, "maybe
we should wait on this conversation until Chameleon can be here."  The
captain chewed his lip.  "I'm sure we can work this all out--"  He
stopped to stare at his friend.  "What are you doing?"
     Starbuck had picked up his tunic from where the captain had tossed
it onto his bed and was pulling it over his head.  
     "Starbuck?"  Boomer tried to put a hand on his friend's shoulder,
but he brushed it off without a word.  Then he tossed aside the sheet and
started to rip off the straps on the knee brace.
     "Hey!"   Boomer and Apollo rushed forward.  
     "Don't!"  Starbuck held up his  hands and glared.  Both men stopped
in their tracks.  Still staring into first Apollo, then Boomer's eyes, he
slowly, methodically removed the brace.
     "Just what do you think you're doing?"  Apollo felt his own anger
rising and his objectivity starting to crumble.
     Starbuck flashed a mirthless grin.  "Getting dressed."  He swung his
legs off the edge of the bed pulled his trousers on, flinching only
slightly as he bent his left knee.
     "Look, Starbuck-- " said Boomer, trying once more to put a hand on
his friend's shoulder.
     The lieutenant jerked away and glared.  The smile was gone, and his
breaths were quick and controlled.  Beads of sweat glistened on his
forehead.  "Stay.  Back," he said in  a low, menacing voice.  He grabbed
the boots  from the floor. 
     Apollo's own control  finally broke. "Are you crazy?  Just where do
you think you're going?" 
     "I need to think."  He grunted as he pulled on the boots, then shot
a look at Cassie, who was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open.  "And I
can't do it here."
     Boomer and Apollo both took a step forward.  "You--"
     "Don't!  I said don't!"  He gulped in a lungful of air, twisted from
one friend to the other, pointing his finger at them.  He took a step and
nearly toppled to the floor.  Boomer grabbed his arm, but Starbuck shoved
him away.  Roughly.  "Don't try to stop me!"
     Boomer glanced at the Captain, who shook his head, then backed up. 
"Okay!" he said hands held up in a surrender position.  "No one's going
to stop you, but let's take a moment to calm down--"
     "Who's not calm?  I'm calm, very calm."  Starbuck snapped.  "I just
need some air."  He bit off the last word and glared once more at Cassie,
then stared at his friends with a challenging look.  
     Apollo inhaled deeply.  "Look, we'll all leave you alone - here. 
But you need to get off that knee.  It's not healed yet, and you wouldn't
want to mess it up--"
     "No!"  Starbuck hissed.  
     Apollo ran a hand down his face.  He and Boomer both knew that look
in their friend's eyes.  They knew that if they tried to physically stop
him, it would get ugly.  They also knew that the chances of reasoning
with  him at this point were next to nil.  "Okay," the captain said,
knowing the only viable option was to stay back, wait him out...maybe
distract him.  And hope that the fury calmed before he did anything
foolish.  "We won't stop you.  But can you at least put the brace back
on?  And then you can do whatever you want."
     Starbuck glanced at the discarded brace, then down at his knee.  He
took a tentative step and sucked in his breath in obvious pain.  
     "What's going on here?"   All eyes turned to see Dr. Paye, arms
crossed and a questioning look on his face, standing just outside his
office.  His eyes narrowed as he quickly assessed the scene, then
strolled purposefully  towards the group. 
     "Doctor, wait--"  Apollo started to say, put Paye wasn't listening.
     "Well, just what do you think you're doing, Lieutenant?"  the doctor
said sharply.  " We haven't finished the treatments.  You need to stay
off that knee, or you'll injure it further."  He reached for Starbuck's
arm to guide him back to his bed.
     Wrong move.
     "Don't touch me!"  He yanked his arm free and shoved with both
hands.  
     The doctor stumbled backwards, his arms flailing and his eyes wide
in disbelief, before catching his balance.  
     Starbuck, his face red, snapped his head around from one friend to
another, and shouted, "Just leave me alone!  Leave me alone!"  He jabbed
his finger in the air and moved towards the exit, limping as quickly as
he could.  "Stay the frak away from me!"  
     The doors swooshed open, then closed behind him.  Silence filled
their ears as Apollo, Boomer, and a shocked Paye looked from one to
another, their eyes finally coming to rest on Cassiopeia.  The medtech,
her face pale and distraught, stared without blinking at the doors.  
     "Frak, felgercarb, and mong," whispered Boomer.

CHAPTER 4

     "So, do you believe that you made the right decision?" Adama's lips
were pursed but his eyes were sympathetic. He touched his finger tips
together in front of him and leaned back in his chair
     Cassie shook her head and sniffed. "No...I..." She raised her
hands, and then let them fall. "No, I don't." She glanced quickly at
Apollo and Boomer, who sat off to the side, listening silently, and to
Dr. Salik, who stood beside the Commander's desk. "And I knew we were
wrong after I'd had a few days to think about it, but at the time..." Her
voice trailed off.
     Adama glanced at his chrono. Chameleon should arrive aboard the
Galactica soon. A little over a centar ago, Apollo and Boomer had burst
through his office door. Apollo had blurted out, "Father, we have to
speak with Chameleon. Now." The Commander had needed only a micron to
take in the urgency on his son's breathless face and had sent a summons
to the Senior Ship without another word. Next, the Captain had quickly
summarized what had transpired in the Life Station - the surprise
information that the old con man was, after all, Starbuck's father and
the Lieutenant's not-unexpected irate reaction. 
     Adama had closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he processed his son's
words. After several centons of silence, he had sent for Cassiopeia and
Dr. Salik. When the two arrived, it had been evident that the doctor
already knew what had transpired. His face was somber; Cassie's eyes were
puffy and red. The medtech had sank into the chair.
     Without waiting for the commander to speak, Salik had stated, "I am
aware of the situation. Cassiopeia and I have discussed both the medical
and ethical ramifications of withholding information from a patient. To
her credit, she followed all proper procedures in recording the true
results of the paternity test. And withholding information from one
patient at the request of another... " Salik shook his head. "it becomes
a judgment call. Ethically and medically, we have sworn to protect the
privacy and well being of all patients. Or in this case, both patients."
     The  Commander had studied the stars through the portal for a
moment, considering the situation. Then, with a look of concern, he had
turned to Cassie. "I am sure," he said, his voice calm and gentle, "that
you felt what you did was right, at the time. Can you explain?"
     Cassiopeia had taken a deep breath to calm her racing heart, had
wiped at her tear-streaked face, and then had explained as calmly as
possible, describing her conversation with Chameleon on that day when she
had gotten the test results - the positive test results - and how
Chameleon had been emphatic that Starbuck would give up everything if he
new the truth. At the time it had made sense and seemed logical. But not
now...
     "No," Cassie repeated, "I knew the next day that we had been wrong,
but I've been unable to convince Chameleon." 
     "Oh?" Adama prompted. 
     Cassie closed her eyes. "I've tried to get him to tell Starbuck, but
he just skirts the subject. Worse," she said with a bitter tone, "just
the other day, when I all but gave him an ultimatum, he flat out
refused."
Apollo finally spoke. "Didn't you say that you intended to tell
Starbuck?" he asked quietly.
     Cassie choked back a sob. "Yes... yes! I was just trying to, to...
figure out how." Her voice trailed off again and she dropped her head
into her hands once more, unable to hold back the tears.
     The Commander closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You were in a very difficult position," he said at length. "And I'm sure
that Starbuck will come to understand that, given time." He turned to his
son with a frown. "You said that Starbuck stormed out of the Life
Station. Don't you think one of you should have gone after him?" he
asked.
     Apollo shook his head. "No... I think the best thing is to just
leave him alone until he blows off enough steam to be able to listen.
Besides," Apollo said with long sigh, "there aren't that many places he
can go aboard the Galactica. My guess would be that he'll go to the
Celestial Dome. It's the most private place in the Fleet, just about."
     "All right, then" Adama stood, bringing the meeting to an end.
"Cassiopeia, I'll send for you after I've had a chance to talk with
Chameleon. It concerns me," he said, his brow furrowed and a hard edge to
his voice evident now, "that the man refuses to listen to you. Perhaps
he'll listen to me." He looked at Cassie, and his frown melted into a
soft smile. "Go on. We'll send for you later."
     Cassie nodded and climbed to her feet. Chewing her lip, she glanced
at Boomer and Apollo, then hurried out of the Commander's office. 
     As the door closed behind her, Adama walked slowly around to the
front of his desk, his lips pursed. He leaned against it and gazed at the
two Warriors for a moment, then checked his chrono once more. "Perhaps
you should locate Starbuck and see that he's okay," he said at length.
"At the very least, he needs to finish the treatments on his knee."
     "Agreed," said the Captain softly. He could see in his father's eyes
the concern for the wayward Lieutenant who was as much a son to him as
was Apollo. He could also read the  anger that burned beneath - anger at
Chameleon. Apollo understood; he felt it, too. The old man would have a
lot of explaining to do, once he arrived. But, for now...
     Apollo motioned to Boomer. "Come on," he said. "Let's go check the
Celestial Dome."
     "Right." The Lieutenant said with a sigh. He moved to follow the
Captain.
     Apollo turned and started for the exit. But stopped as the door
swooshed open, and Colonel Tigh rushed through, almost colliding with
him. "Whoa, excuse--"
     The Colonel silenced him with an uncharacteristic glare, then
brushed past him before he could say anything further. He came to a halt
in front of the Commander. "Just what does that fool think he's doing?"
His chest heaved as he spoke. "He'll be on report for the next sectar!" 
     Adama blinked and raised his eyebrows. "Who, exactly, has done
what?" he asked as he studied his exec. Tigh may have had a bit of a hot
streak, but he  almost always remained professional. The commander had
seldom seen him this flustered.
     "Starbuck!" he spat the word. Apollo and Boomer looked at each other
in confusion.
     "Perhaps if you were to explain from the beginning..." Adama said,
feeling equally baffled.
     Tigh exhaled sharply and rocked back on his heels. "Right," he said,
pulling himself together. "Core Command reported about ten centons ago
that a Viper launched without clearance. And when I checked with the
launch bay crew, they said that Lieutenant Starbuck--" He took another
deep breath. "-- ignored their repeated attempts to intervene and took a
Viper. Without. Clearance," he repeated, biting off each word. 
     "Frak," muttered Apollo. Boomer closed his eyes and shook his head,
groaning.
     "Colonel--" Adama began.
     "If the Council gets wind that our pilots are joyriding around the
Fleet--"
     "Colonel!" 
     "Yes, Sir." Tigh eyes widened. "Sorry, Sir. It's just that--"
     "That what?"
     "When I got the report on Starbuck, Sire Antipas was just entering
the Bridge."
     "Antipas?" Adama exclaimed, feeling his stomach head south. "What
did he want?"
     "I don't know, sir. But that's why I didn't call you from the Bridge
with this news. Last thing we need is that gol...for Sire Antipas knowing
about Starbuck's behavior, and stirring up any more trouble with the
Council than we already have. Sir. So, I left Omega in charge, with
strict instructions not to tell Antipas about this, and came to you."
     "Thank you, Colonel. You did the right thing."
     Tigh, his mouth a thin line,  gazed from Apollo to Boomer to the
Commander.  "I guessing," he said in an even tone, "that you have a
credible explanation as to why Lieutenant Starbuck would pull  such a
crazy stunt, especially,"  he added curtly, "since he is supposed to be
recovering in the Life Station."
     Adama nodded.  "We do, but there isn't time to explain."   As he
spoke, his intercom sounded. The shuttle from the Senior Ship had just
docked. Adama clicked off, and looked back up at the Colonel. "All right,
get back to the Bridge, and track Starbuck's Viper. Quietly.  And keep me
posted, but do not volunteer any information to Sire Antipas."
     "And if he questions me?"
     "Lie."
     "Understood, Commander," replied Tigh, and with just a hint of a
smile, left Adama's office.
     "What the Hades Hole is Antipas doing on the Bridge?" asked Apollo.
"Unannounced."
     "No good, I'm betting," added Boomer. Adama just nodded.

**********

     "You are cleared to land," the disembodied voice said.
     "Acknowledged."
     Two centons later, Starbuck popped the canopy, watched it rise
slowly, then sat, staring blankly at it, wondering, now, why he had come
here... the tumult of emotions that he had been experiencing  had left
him feeling out of control one centon, then stalled by uncertainty and
disbelief the next.  
     Chameleon's my father...?  The words floated once more through his
thoughts.  But why did he... why would Cass...?  The question was too raw
and painful for him to voice, even silently in his mind.  With a guttural
"Frak!" he flung his helmet off and pulled himself from the cockpit,
swinging his legs over and dropping the short distance to the deck - and
almost collapsed in a heap as his injured knee exploded in pain  and
buckled beneath him.  
     Starbuck, groaning through gritted teeth and, sucking in sharp
breaths, caught himself against the side of his ship.  He pressed himself
against the Viper until the waves of agony subsided and he thought it
safe to risk trying to walk.  Left foot forward, down... now step...
Sharp pains shot through the knee, but it held his weight as he shifted
quickly to his right foot.  With his full attention focused on walking -
and safely away from the other problems--  Starbuck hobbled towards the
lifts, ignoring the curious stares from the maintenance crews of the
Sagittarius.  
     Aboard the turbolift, he balanced on one foot and leaned heavily
against the wall, eyes closed, breathing in long, slow breaths.  Lords,
he felt drained and exhausted.  As the lift bumped to a halt at the
seventh level and the door swooshed open, he concentrated once more
walking.  The corridor ran first by the entrance to the Commons Area,
then turned to the right, where it led between  passenger living
quarters.  As Starbuck traversed the passageway, he was so focused on
staying upright on his feet that he failed to notice the muffled, yet
agitated, rumble of voices coming from the Commons Area...
     By the time he made it to Mairwen's compartment, his face dripped
with sweat, and his right leg burned from the exertion of baring most of
his weight.  He leaned against the wall and pressed the door chime in a
series of two short, three long buzzes - their agreed upon code so that
she would know it was safe to open the door.  A moment later, the door
slid open, and he found himself face to face with a startled looking
Mairwen.  
     And he suddenly had no idea what to say or to do or why he had even
come there in the first place.  How could he explain to her what had
happened when he couldn't even bring himself to think about it right now?
And why, oh why, would he choose to burden her with his problems, when
she had enough of her own to worry about?  Had he not been so exhausted,
he would have turned and fled.  But he couldn't.  Instead, he stood on
the threshold, breathing in gasps, feeling  something that he had seldom,
if ever, felt before - utter indecision and helplessness.

*******

     "They are not your protectors. They are your deceivers!" Sherok
raised a hand high as he spoke. With the hood of his shroud-- the
supposed dress of the followers of the Old Text--pulled back, the man had
an eerie appearance. His face was pale, gaunt, and pock marked, his eyes
were sunken, with dark rings beneath them, and his dull brown hair was
unkempt and matted. As he spoke, his eyes widened; the glare of the
artificial lighting in the Commons Area glinted off them, giving him even
more of an unnatutal, even crazed, look. He swung around staring without
blinking at the morning crowd.
     "Give it a rest!" someone shouted. All they wanted to do was enjoy a
morning meal, take some precious time to socialize, and prepare for the
work cycle ahead. As had become the custom, the Commons Area was crowded,
more so than at any other time, with a large portion of the Sagittarius'
population. 
     Sherok, of course, knew this. In the past he and a few of his
followers would slip quietly from table to table, group to group,
delighting in provoking scowls and interrupting the people's
conversations. Nothing major and nothing that could be reported to
Council Security.
     This time, however, Sherok had at least eight of his deluded
followers with him, roaming throughout the tables, and he continued to
rant. Loudly. "Can't you see?" he shouted, twirling around, eyes blazing.
"They are lying to us! They would have us starve in these metal boxes!"
     "That's a load of felgercarb!" A large man stood to glare at Sherok.
"The Commander has done everything within his power to protect us from
the Cylons! We are all alive because of him!"
     "He deceives us!" shouted one of Sherok's minions. "Our food
supplies run short! Our ships fall apart!"
     An angry buzz of protests rose for a moment. The five Council
Security Guards, standing around the perimeter of the Commons Area,
nervously fingered their lasers, watching and listening and trying to
gauge just if or when the Il Fadim's right to free speech boiled over
into disorderly conduct. 
     "Look, bub," said another big man, rising from one table. Built like
an ambrosia truck, over two and a half metrons tall and dark as night, he
had been a shipyard worker before the Holocaust, and now spent most of
his days sweating and swearing to keep the Sagittarius (sometimes
nicknamed, rather unkindly, 'Old Saggy' ) flying and in one piece. He
moved close to Sherok's minion, and folded his massive arms across his
equally massive chest. "If ya got a problem, maybe ya oughta  take it up
with the  Commander, huh?" he glared down at the troublemaker. "Yeah,
maybe the Commander could just turn us all  around, and we could pick up
a load of new parts, and the  Cylons'll let us use their dockyards, so we
can get fixed up all nice and pretty." A few chuckles rippled about the
room. "Yeah, and while we're at it, maybe we could stock up at the 
market, and get all them nice gourmet goodies ya been missing lately."
     "You tell 'em, Lou!" said the first fellow.
     "So," continued Lou, "unless ya  got some spare parts I could use,
or yer magician over there  can conjour us up some extra grub, shut yer
trap, and let the people eat their meal in peace, pencil-neck!"
     "Lying scum!" said the follower, either brave or suicidal, glaring
up at the towering man. "You lie, just like the Commander, and all the
rest are lying!"
     "Look, worm!" said Lou, putting a hand the size of a frying pan on
the smaller fellow's shoulder, "I would watch what I say  about Commander
Adama. Ain't none of us'd be alive if it..."
     "Unhand me, Infidel Unbeliever!" shrieked the man, bating at Lou's
massive hand. "Do not..."
     "You ungrateful little..." began Lou, picking the fellow up, and
bringing him to eye level. 
     "Lou, cool it, okay?" said one guard. "Just let him go."
     "Yeah, okay," said Lou, letting the other plop back into his chair.
It nearly broke as he landed, and he fell out onto the deck. "But if he's
so eager for  pain, I'll save the  Cylons the  trouble!" He glared at the
rabblerouser, and went to the recycler. He dumped his empties, got a
java, and headed for the door. "Now, unlike some of yas, I got  work  ta
do!" He swung his glare to  Sherok and the rest of his minions. "Ya wanna
help? Get a job!" And so said, he left.
     Sherok had watched the fray without reaction, save a slight
narrowing of the eyes.  As he waited for the din to subside and the crowd
to settle once more, he quietly pulled a small chrono from a pocket in
his shroud, and, with the device concealed in his palm, made note of the
time.  A thin smile touched his lips for a micron as he slipped it back
into the pocket.

********

     Tigh looked at the tracking data Omega handed him, and nodded.
Starbuck's Viper had neither headed out on a patrol vector, nor zoomed
off across the sector. He'd made for, of all things, the Sagittarius. A
former private luxury yacht now crammed to the gunwales with refugees, it
was one of the ships whose passengers had not yet been included in
Adama's census plan. Telemetry indicated that he had landed aboard the
Sagittarius a little over 10 centons previously.  Why in Hades Hole had
Starbuck gone there?  Tigh shook his head, and...
     "Problems, Colonel?" asked a voice. Tigh turned, to see the smiling
visage of Sire Antipas. It was, as usual, the smile of the hungry
serpent, sizing up a potential meal.
     "Uh, none at all, Sire Antipas. Just rechecking our telemetry
calibrations, is all."
     "Oh, really?" said the Sire. "How interesting." He leaned around
Tigh to look at the instruments. 
     Just how much Antipas understood  of what he saw, Tigh wasn't sure. 
It was a tactical plot of the entire Fleet.  Still,  he saw the need for
some fast thinking. 
     "Oh, what happened?" asked Antipas, as the scope went dark.
     "Sorry sir," said Omega, looking at Tigh.  Tigh recognized the look,
and played along with it. "It's the high-volponage transformer for the
screen again, Colonel. I'm not sure we can resurrect it this time."
     "Well, we need those scanners back up immediately!" said Tigh,
glaring. "This is intolerable!"
     "We have put the order in for the new parts, sir."
     "Well,  tell Chief Shadrach to drop whatever other felgercarb his
maintenance team is doing and get them up here now."
"Yes, sir!" 
     Sorry about that," said Tigh, to Antipas. "Like the rest of the
Fleet, we sometimes stretch the components beyond their recommended
lifespan."
     "I trust this won't take long."
     "No, I'm sure not.  Just a little disciplinary reminder to the
Electronics ship and maintenance that the Galactica can't just wait in
line like any other ship for matters such as these."
     "I see," said Antipas, as two maintenance techs entered the bridge.
"Well, tell Adama I was here, will you Colonel?"
     "Of course, Sire. Any message for him?"
     "Just wanted to see how this census was going, Colonel. From the
equus' mouth, as it were. Nothing major." So said, the Sire turned and
left the Bridge. 
     Both Tigh and Omega let out the breath they were holding, and the
screen suddenly came back to life.
     "Good work, Omega."
     "Any time, Colonel."


********

     Mairwen's eyes went wide as she took in his haggard appearance. 
"Lords of Kobol," she breathed, and pulled him gently on in, guiding him
to a chair.  She said a silent prayer that Cassy was playing in the
sleeping area, and then quickly went to let he girl know that she had
"grown up company."  Having been taught not to interrupt such a meeting,
she knew that Cassy would most likely stay out of the way, at least for a
bit, with luck, long enough to figure out what was going on...
     She returned to find the Lieutenant sunk down in the chair, head
back, and hands covering his face.
     "Starbuck...?"  she asked tentatively.  "What's wrong?"
     For a moment, he made no move, no response.  She was about to repeat
the question, when he finally slid his hands down his face, then up
through his hair.  "I should go," he mumbled, not making eye contact.  "I
had no business coming here.  I'll leave, just as soon as--"
     "No, stay,"  Mairwen said.  Her voice was quiet, yet insistent. 
"After all you've done for us, if there's anything that I can do..."
     After a few microns, Starbuck  gazed at her; the depth of pain in
his eyes cut through her, and she bit her lip, wondering what could
possibly have happened.  "I..." he started, but then tried to push
himself out of the chair.  "No, I'd better go."  The overexerted knee,
however, screamed in protest, and he dropped back into the seat, grunting
in pain.
     "You're hurt," she said, feeling anxious and baffled.  "What
happened?"
     Starbuck gave a short, mirthless laugh.  "What , you didn't see the
'infamous triad block'?  I'm surprised. Seems everyone else did--"  He
cut himself off at the frown on her face.
     "We did see part of the game," she said softly, but not that...are
you okay?"  It felt like a stupid question the micron she said it, since
he was obviously not okay.
     He cautiously rubbed his leg.  "I got my knee tore up," he said with
a sigh.  "Still hurts."
     "Shouldn't you be resting or something?"
     "Or something."  He gave her a lopsided grin, one that seemed a bit
more relaxed, at least for a brief moment.  Then his face sank back into
a sullen frown.
     Mairwen studied  the lieutenant and chewed her lip, trying to figure
out a way to help him, to let him open up, to trust her...  She pulled a
chair up and sat across from him.  "Did you," she asked slowly, "have a
fight with Cassiopeia?"
     "Sort of."  He  let out a long, weary breath and closed his eyes. 
After nearly a centon, he opened them and gazed at Mairwen.  "Look, I'm
sorry," he said in a voice that was barely audible.  "I'd explain it to
you, but... I can't even explain it to myself..."  He pressed his palms
against his eyes.  "I shouldn't have come here," he repeated.  
     "Please, I want to help,"  Mairwen said.  "You can tell me as little
or as much as you want, but I'll listen.  Maybe talking about it will
help.  Maybe I can help..."
     Starbuck ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.  "All right," he
said at length.  "Maybe you're right.  I've been avoiding it for the
past--" He glanced at his chrono. "--centar.  And that's not doing any
good.  Maybe..."  He ran his hands down his face again and closed his
eyes.  "All right.  Hades, maybe it'll make sense after I explain it to
you.  Sure doesn't make any sense to me, though..."
     "What?"  Mairwen asked gently.  "What doesn't make sense?"
     Starbuck leaned his head against one hand.  "I just found out that -
that... a man I thought wasn't my father is, and the woman that I care
the most about - care deeply about - and I thought felt the same way -
knew it all along, yet never told me... ."
     Mairwen stared at the lieutenant, trying to make sense of his
convoluted statement.  Finally, she said, "Perhaps if you start from the
beginning and tell me who this man is..."
     "Okay."  Starbuck stared at the wall, blinking slowly.  "About  six
sectars ago, I met a man named Chameleon aboard the Rising Star..."  It
took nearly thirty centons, but Starbuck went on to describe how he had
gotten to know Chameleon, how they had seemed to have a common past, so
they had taken a paternity test.  But, then, he had explained how the old
man had actually created the story to escape from the Borellian Nomen and
had used the coincidence of their backgrounds to get aboard the
Galactica. And he described how the man had both almost gotten him killed
by the Nomen, but also had saved his life. In the end, the test results
had been negative - or that was what Cassie had told everyone. 
     "But, now," he said, shaking his head slowly in confusion, "I find
out that the results were positive. That Chameleon is my father.  That he
and Cassie both lied to me..."  His voice trailed off.
     "Did she say why they  lied?" Mairwen asked after a moment.  She had
listened intently, trying to comprehend everything.  
     "To protect me!"  He spat the words.  "Cassie said that Chameleon
convinced her to wait and let him tell--"
     "He sounds like he's an experting at convincing," Mairwen said
softly.
     "He is.  He's a real conman, all right.  I real pro."  
     "Sounds like," Mairwen said, choosing her words with care, "that
maybe he conned Cassie, too.  Could that be?"
     "I--"  Starbuck stopped.  
     "Maybe it wasn't Cassie," Mairwen continued, sensing that he was
finally starting to think about what had happened, instead of avoiding
it.  "If he had convinced her not to tell, at first, for whatever reason,
I can only imagine how difficult it would be... if I were her... to find
the words to tell the truth...  once the lie had been told."
     Starbuck slowly turned to meet Mairwen's gaze.  His face was weary,
troubled.  "Cassie . .  " he said, his voice a bare whisper.  "Frak!"  He
squeezed his eyes shut and pounded the arm of the chair.  "That lying,
snitrad-- "  He turned pleading eyes towards Mairwen.  "Why didn't he
tell me?  Why would he lie...?"
     "Maybe you should ask Chameleon that question."  Mairwen reached out
a hand and gasped Starbuck's, tentatively, then more firmly when he
didn't pull back.  "I know you care for Cassie, a great deal," she said,
fighting back emotions of her own.  Don't go there... "And I can imagine
that, that... she cares just as much for you."  Mairwen chewed her lip.
"If I ...  if I were her, and I had to tell you something that I knew
would hurt you... even if it were the right thing to do, it'd tear me
up."  
     "Mairwen..."  Starbuck sat forward, staring into her eyes.  
     The look sent an indescribable sensation through her - one she had
to fight back, or she would not be able to finish. So she plowed ahead. 
"He must have thought he had a good reason.  That man--"
     "Chameleon."  Starbuck spat the word.
     "Chameleon must have thought he had a good reason for not telling--"
     "Yeah, he can't tell a straight truth if his life depended on it,
the lying--"
     "For whatever reason," Mairwen cut off what looked to be the start
of a rant, not wanting to  lose his attention, not now.  "He convinced
Cassie to let him tell you.  After all, he's your... father.  I know I'd
probably fall for that kind of persuasion.  But then, if I knew I'd made
the wrong choice later...  how would I find the words to tell you
something like that?"
     Starbuck stared without seeing, his thoughts turned inward for a
long centon.  Then he closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Cass..." he
finally breathed.  "What a mess."  He opened his eyes and gazed at
Mairwen.  "And what an astrum I've been!"
     "One could hardly blame you," said with a faint smile.  "It's rather
important information.  I'm sure your friends will understand.  But." 
She let go of his hand and stood up.  "I bet they're rather worried about
you, as well."
     Starbuck let out a deep sigh, then cast a lopsided, if weary, grin 
at her.  "Is that your way of trying to get rid of me?"
     "Only for your own good."  Mairwen returned the smile.  And mine,
she told herself, as the memory of his warm hands lingered.  "Don't you
think it's time you went back, so that you can ask Chameleon what his
reasons were?"
     Starbuck's face went hard, but only for a moment.  Then it melted
into the first genuine smile since he had arrived.  "You'd make a good
ship's counselor, you know?" 
     Mairwen offered a hand to help him up.  "No, that's what friends are
for - to help each other.  I'm just glad that I can finally return the
favor.  I owe you so much--"
     Starbuck grasped her hand  and pulled her  down, kissing her gently
on the cheek.  "Call it even, now, okay?"
     Mairwen looked away, feeling her cheeks go hot.  "Any time, she
mumbled.  She forced a smile and turned back to face him.  "Now, let's
get you on your feet."   With that, she pulled as he pushed himself out
of the chair.  
     "Arrgh," he moaned as the movement sent shooting pains through his
knee.  "Why couldn't I have at least finished the treatments before
running off like an idiot?"
     "Can you walk?"  Mairwen asked.  
     Starbuck clenched his jaw and said through gritted teeth, "Do I have
a choice?"  When he saw the concern on her face, he added, "Once I get
going, it'll be okay.  It's just stiff from sitting."
     Nice little lie, she told herself, but smiled at him.  "Okay."  
     The lieutenant leaned on her shoulder as he hobbled to the door.  As
it opened, he stopped and turned to face her.  "Thanks," he said softly. 
"And tell Cassy I'm sorry I missed her.  I'll see her next time."  Then
he turned and focused on walking once more, back down the corridor.
     Mairwen watched to be sure that he wasn't going to topple over, then
closed the door.  For a long moment, she stared at it, remembering... the
warm touch of his hands, the soft kiss... 
     "Who was that?"  A small hand gripped the back of her leg.  
     Mairwen quickly swiped at her eyes, then smiled as she turned to
scoop up Cassy.  "Just a friend, sweetie, who needed to talk to someone."

**********

     The door chimed, but Adama continued to stare out the portal of his
office to the star field beyond.  After nearly 30 microns, he said,
"Enter,"  then listened as the door opened and closed.  The sound of
footsteps thudded mutely against the carpeting on the floor.  Clothing
rustled, and Adama could hear the man trying to clear his throat without
being heard.
     The commander, hands behind his back, face expressionless, turned
slowly to face Chameleon.  He pulled himself up to his full height and
stared without blinking for another moment.
     Chameleon fidgeted and squirmed, twiddling his shirt with his
fingers.  "Uh, commander," he said at last into the silence, "You sent
for me?"  he glacned at the other two occupants of the office, Apollo and
Boomer, who were seated, arms crossed, faces somber, below where the
commander was standing.
     Adama pursed his lips, still staring down at the old man.  His gaze
seemed to bore straight through Chameleon, who cleared his throat some
more and glanced around, but avoided meeting anyone's gaze.  After
another centon, the commander drew in a slow breath.  "Do you recall," he
said, his voice neutral, "a conversation that we had about six sectars
ago, concerning Lieutenant Starbuck,  when we shared a drink and drank a
toast, to a positive match on the test results."  Chameleon nodded. 
Adama continued.  "I stated that the last thing  I would want  to happen
was to see Starbuck hurt."  Adama paused, narrowing his eyes.  "You,
apparently, did not share my feeling."
     Chameleon felt his face flush.  "Commander, I, uh, would never--"
     "Your son found out the truth this morning." Adama's voice had risen
just a notch.  "As you can well imagine he was shocked and quite upset. 
In fact..."  Adama inhaled deeply again.  "We don't actually know where
Starbuck is.  When he learned the truth, he fled from the Life Station--
with an injured knee-- took a Viper without clearance and launched off
into space."  His voice had grown louder with each word, each syllable,
until his calm  evaporated and he shouted the last words angrily.
     Chameleon's eyes went wide. "How..." he said weakly, his eyes
flitting towards Apollo and Boomer, who still sat silent and sullen, 
then took a step back as the commander moved to within an arm's length.
     "Tell me," Adama said, his voice lowered to a growl, "why a father
would chose to conceal something like that from his son."
     The old man swallowed to moisten his dry throat.  "Look, I chose to
wait to revel the truth because, because... I thought it was best, at the
time.  I never, never meant to hurt Starbuck.  He was not supposed to
find out--"
     "Well, he did, and now he's missing because of this..."  Adama let
his voice trail off and glared at the man.
     "Commander, I swear-- I swear!-- I chose to not tell Starbuck,
because I wanted to protect him.  He was going to resign the service and
give up all of his friends.  I couldn't let him do that.  I--"
     "So you chose to lie to him - to your son - about the single most
important thing in his life?"
     "I chose to wait until a better time.  Not when he was flying off
the handle and ready to give it all up... give up everything for a crazy
old man who doesn't deserve--"
     "That's the first sensible thing you've said,"  growled the
commander.  "He doesn't deserve a father who would lie, but we can't
change that, now can we?"
     "No, now...  look, Sir..."  Chameleon shuffled from one foot to
another and put on his most pleading face.  "I swear I was going to tell
him.  I--"
     "When?  According to Cassiopeia, you  refused to tell Starbuck the
truth when she last spoke with you, a couple of sectons ago.  'Flat out
refused.'  Those were her words.  How do you explain that?"
     "I, I..."  Chameleon stared at the floor.  "I truly thought it was
best if he didn't know about me.  You're a much better father figure--"
     "Leave me out of this!" roared Adama, his patience down to mere
vapors.  "The one thing  that Starbuck has wanted-- has longed for--  has
been to know about his family and his past.  And you knew that!  Yet
you..."  the words finally failed Adama and he simply glared at the old
con man.
     Chameleon let out a long, slow breath.  "Commander, I am sorry, more
sorry than you'll ever know.  I truly, truly thought I was protecting him
by not revealing  the truth.  I never wanted to hurt him..."  His voice
trailed off and he dropped into a chair, looking  pale  and defeated.
     Adama let the silence hang for a long centon, then said quietly,
"Maybe this explanation will work for Starbuck.  It doesn't work for me." 
With that, he turned and strode out of his office.


********

     "Brave words," said Sherok, as the doors hissed  closed behind Lou.
"But loud words will not stifle truth. The truth burns in your mind!"
Sherok whirled his shroud and raised both arms. "Did the Commander not
report a failure on the agro ship?" His eyes challenged the crowd.
     "Yes!" shouted a woman. "But the problem was fixed!"
     "Was it?" returned Sherok. "Was it?" His voice rose to a shriek.
"How do we know? How do we know? We know only what we are told. And we
believe like good little agnons. Meek followers, you all are!" 
     "Yes! Yes!" chanted his minnions in perfect unison, like worshippers
at a revival meeting. As they did so, no one noticed as Sherok glanced
again at the chrono concealed in a pocket in his shroud. The thin smile
flitted across his lips, then he turned to scan the agitated crowd.
     "Adama says the agro ship  is operational again, but have any of you
seen it? When was the last time food was delivered from there, eh?"
     "Hey," said the first man. "your full of it, buster. I got
transferred to  Agro Ship One as part of the repair crew. We busted our
astrums to get her back up and running again. And she's producing food."
     "You have seen this?" asked Sherok, eyes narrowing, voice silky, a
cloying mixture of both surprise, and contempt.
     "Yeah. I have."
     "Then where is the food?" asked Sherok, now sounding like an Opposer
in court. "Why have we seen no new food?"
     "A lot was lost. Even force growing takes time to bring crops to
full ripeness. I..."
     "Are lying!" hissed Sherok. "Like Adama, like the Council, like all
the rest, you lie!" Sherok moved closer, gazing at the man with eyes that
would frighten the blind. "You Infidel Defiler!" he shrieked. "You..."
     "That's enough!" Sherok swung around to glare at the security guard
that had finally spoken up and was pacing towards him. "You're inciting
trouble here. I must ask--" 
     "Is the truth not permitted here?" Sherok jabbed a finger towards
the guard. "YOU would silence the truth!" He shrieked towards the
ceiling. "Yes, like all so-called authority."
     "That's a load of felgercarb!" screamed someone else. A chorus of
"Yeah, that's right!" rippled through the crowd.
     The security guard drew his laser and nodded towards his comrades,
who did likewise. They moved towards Sherok and his followers. "That's
enough!" he shouted again. "Now either get out, or we'll carry you out!" 
     "See how they fear the truth!"  Sherok twirled away and motioned to
his minions.  He moved slowly towards the exit.  "Ask yourselves!  How do
we know that the food supply was not destroyed?  How do we know?"  He
faced backwards as he walked, ignoring the security guards, who were
waving their lasers at him.  "Lies!"  he screamed.  "LIES!"  His eyes
flickered to the chrono on the wall that marked the time, 0924.
     Their patience strung thin, the crowd's angry yells had swelled into 
a loud din, then subsided, as the madman appeared to be backing down, to
be leaving.  Finally.  After all.
     Yet Sherok stopped just short of the exit. He was not yet finished.
"These ships will not endure for much longer! Have you so quickly
forgotten the Spica? They are OLD! We cannot possible continue this
insane trek!" His eyes darted to the chrono. 0925. A faint smile etched
across his lips as he screamed, "How safe do you REALLY feel?! How safe?
How secure? Trapped in these crumbling metal TOMBS!"
     The security guards, faces red with anger and frustration,  waved
their lasers.  One started to yell, "Get--"
     He never finished.  A low rumble echoed below the deck, the lights
flickered, and then the ship lurched as power to one of the engines
momentarily failed.  
     The sudden movement sent everyone tumbling to the deck.  Nerves,
already frayed, snapped.  People began to panic.  To scream.  To scramble
to their feet and rush  for the exit.  Bodies banged into each other. 
People pushed.  Shoved.  The crowd  bottlenecked at the exit.  Screams of
terror shrieked above the din as bodies slipped beneath the crushing
force of the horde.  Then the  chaos spilled out into the corridor.

***********

     "Report, Colonel."
     Tigh turned to see the commander, followed by a subdued-looking
Chameleon, entering the bridge from his office.  "We are still getting
the auto-beacon from Starbuck's Viper.  He landed aboard the Sagittarius
about 30 centons ago."   
     He paused to consider his next question;  yet, he had a strange
inkling that he knew the answer.  Starbuck may have been a hot head with
an impulsive streak, but pulling something like this seemed out of
character, even for him, unless... and then, for the commander to have
sent for Chameleon, of all people.  Since he had arrived, the two had
been in Adama's office, along with Apollo and Boomer, with orders not to
be disturbed..  Perhaps that had been to simply avoid Sire Anitpas,
but... Tigh didn't think so.  The commander may have found dealing with
the Councilman distasteful, to put it mildly, but  he would not stoopto
petty games.  Finally, the Colonel pursed his lips and said, "Sir, do
Lieutenant Starbuck's actions have anything to do with Chameleon?'  He
nodded towards the old man.
     "Quite so," Adama said quietly, casting a quick glance at the con
man.. Chameleon's eyes were glued to the floor.  Behind him, Apollo and
Boomer, both  faces creased by frowns, stood watching him.  "It would
seem," he said slowly, "that Chameleon is Starbuck's father, after all."
     "I see."  Tigh pursed his lips.  That would, indeed, explain a few
things.
     "Apollo,"  Adama said, turning towards his son, "does Starbuck know
anyone on that ship? Someone who he might go to see in a personal
crisis?"
     "Not that I know of." Apollo looked at Chameleon.  "You wouldn't
know anything, would you?"
     The old man  turned a quick glance to the Captain.  "No, sir," he
replied. "But then Starbuck and I haven't spoken for a while." 
     Adama just grunted.  "What about you, Boomer?"
     The Lieutenant shook his head.  "No idea--"
     "Wait!"  Apollo raised  a hand.  "Now I remember!  There's a couple-
a woman and her young daughter - that Starbuck has been helping out. 
They were relocated after the disaster on the Spica."  Apollo nodded to
himself.  "Yes, I believe they're on the Sagittarius now."
     "Yes," said Boomer, remembering, "he did--"
     "Commander!"
     The five turned at the sound of  Omega's voice.
     "There's been an explosion aboard the Sagittarius!"
     "Lords, not again!"

CHAPTER 5

     The first sensation was the icy coldness of the metal floor against
his ear and cheek.  The second was a blinding, piercing pain drilling
from the center of his back, searing through every nerve, it seemed, when
he tried to move. After an indeterminable amount of time, the pain faded
to a dull throb, and he slowly opened his eyes, careful to move nothing
else, greatly preferring the cold numbness against his face to the prior
agony.  His eyes opened to darkness, nothing on which to focus, and he
closed them again, feeling dizzy, nauseated.  A moan escaped as he tried
to quell the spinning sensation that was welling up from the pit of his
stomach.  His ears were ringing.  Lieutenant Starbuck slipped into
unconsciousness again...
     Gradually, he became aware of a low, persistent moaning and
eventually  realized it was coming from himself.  He stopped and felt his
breaths come in short, shallow gasps, pushing his chest against the
hard floor.  With each breath, he also felt the stabbing pain in the
center of his back that radiated like an electrical shock in all
directions.  By comparison, all of the other aches and pains he felt -
a throbbing in the back of his head, aches in various joints from being
immobile on the hard floor, a throbbing in his knee - were
inconsequential.  He consciously slowed his breathing to move as little
as possible, to escape the sensation of someone drilling a knife through
his back.  The effort, however, was draining, and his head began to reel,
with a feeling of floating, drifting, spinning, that would wash over the
other sensations, then retreat.  
     Now images flitted in and out of his consciousness.  Random
snapshots of recent events.  Cassie.  Apollo. Chameleon.  Mairwen.  Then 
Shouts.  Screams.  Crazed, desperate faces. Madness. Chaos.  He could not
remember why, nor had the strength to think about it.  He simply
experienced the random images, not comprehending their importance or
relevance to his present situation. 

     At last, one consistent sound permeated the chaotic sensations.  A
voice.  A single word repeated over and over:  "hey!"  And then he felt
the gentle nudge on his shoulder.  He opened his eyes, eyelids
flickering, struggling to focus on the shape in front of him, aware
enough to be careful not to move.  He finally recognized the shape as a
foot and legs, belonging to someone kneeling next to him.  When he tried
to speak, though, the only sound he could make was a low moan.  The form
shifted, and Starbuck felt something brush the hair from his eyes, press
against his forehead.
     The voice said, "What happened?" 
     Concentrating, he was able to whisper, in several careful breaths,
"I... don't... know."
     "I am going to move you," the voice said.
     Starbuck felt acute panic.  "No!" he breathed, tensing.  Even that
slight movement was enough to send his back into spasms, as a feeling of
fire burned into his spine. He gasped in agony and gratefully lost
consciousness.

*****

     "What's your status?"  Adama stared at the face on the vidscreen.  
     Captain Tovar rubbed a hand across his face.  "There was an
explosion in the port side thruster.  It knocked the engine off line
briefly, but maintenance crews report that the fire was quickly contained
and damage was minimal."  He took a deep breath.  "We have another
situation, however, Sir."
     "Yes?"  Adama glanced at the faces around him.
     "The explosion created a panic among the people.  We've got an
emergency  on deck seven.  At least a twenty  injured, some serious." The
captain's voice took on an edge of desperation.  "Sir, we are not
equipped to handle this kind of medical emergency.  We need assistance."
     "Help is on it's way!  Adama out."  
     "A medical team is en route to Beta Bay, Commander," said Omega. "A
security detail as well."
     "Good." Adama turned.
     "Father, what about...?"  Apollo let his voice trail off.
     The commander's face was stern.  "You and Boomer, come with me.  My
first duty is to the people on board the Sagittarius and its captain. 
However..."  Adama let out a long breath.  "there's no reason why you two
can't try to locate Lieutenant Starbuck.  Now let's go!"  The commander
turned and bumped into Chameleon. "Excuse me."
     "I'm going with you, Commander."
     "Absolutely not."  Adama pulled himself up to his full height and
stared down at the old man.  
     "But, Sir, Starbuck--"
     Apollo jabbed a finger at his chest.  "If you were really so
concerned about your son," he said, his eyes drilling into Chameleon's,
"Then you would told him the truth by now.  And then we wouldn't be in
this situation!  Now, move aside!"  
     Chameleon, mouth open,  took a step back and stared  as the
commander, Apollo, and Boomer hurried off the bridge.


*****

     The feeling of a wet cloth on his forehead awoke the lieutenant. He
opened his eyes once more.  This time, a dim light illuminated a face
that swam in and out of focus.  Finally, it settled into a slightly out
of focus image of an older man, maybe 40 or 50 yahrens, with scraggly
grey hair and beard.  A vaguely familiar face... where had he seen him
before?  He wore old, well-worn garments, rags almost. Starbuck forced
himself to make note of these details, to focus his attention away from
the tenseness that gripped his back.  The pain was a constant throbbing,
but the fear of setting off another spasm like earlier kept him immobile. 
He was lying on his back, arms resting at his sides, on a makeshift
mattress, covered with a blanket, his neck and head well supported but
kept level with the rest of his body with a soft material, a pillow or
clothing, he could not tell.  
     Slowly, carefully, without moving his head, he glanced around:
blankets hung from pipes to form "walls." A single dim light struggled to
illuminate the area, powered from...where?  Although he could not see it,
a crate, upon which the man sat, was the only other furnishing.  A myriad
of electronic devices, parts and pieces and a variety of tools were
stacked in piles in several places.  Finally, a stale, musty stench
permeated his senses, and a constant drone from the ship's energizers
could be heard.  
     When Starbuck shifted his gaze back to his rescuer, the man seemed
to cringe and look away. Still looking away, he said in a low, almost
monotone voice, "I saw you lying in the corridor, and you did not move. I
wanted to help you.  I don't know why you were there. You were hurt..." 
His voice trailed off, and he kept his gaze averted.
     This time the images returned in sequence, and Starbuck closed his
eyes as he remembered: his  visit in desperation to Mairwen, her words of
reason, leaving, heading back to the lifts.  But then  an explosion.  And
the sudden eruption of a panicked crowd.  The wave and crush of bodies as
they fled in terror.  Being grabbed, pushed, shoved, falling to the
ground.  A hazy recollection of a maniacal voice and a nightmare figure
in shrouds... attacking him... trying to escape, and finally, a vicious
kick to his spine followed almost immediately by a crashing blow to the
back of his head and unconsciousness.  Starbuck explained it slowly,
wincing and groaning as any expansion of his rib cage brought back the
drilling knife in his spine. He felt totally drained by the end.  "Where
am I now?" he whispered finally.
     For several microns, it seemed as if the man had not heard. 
Starbuck was about to repeat the question, when the man glanced at him,
saying in the same monotone, "This is my place where I stay.  I avoid the
others on this ship, and they leave me alone."
     Starbuck noticed that the man was rocking, ever so slightly, as he
kept his gaze fixed on the floor.  And  then it clicked.  He was the
strange man from the Commons Area, the one who had caused the scene,
just... the day before; although it seemed like ages, now.  He was
supposed to be... 'mentally deficient,' yet, he didn't seem...  "I'm
Starbuck," he breathed at length.  "Who are you?"
     "Copernicus."
     "Why...?" Starbuck glanced from the strange array of equipment to
the equally strange man in front of him, trying to comprehend.
     Copernicus, somehow, even though he was looking away from the
lieutenant, caught the  glance at his electronic devices, which sparked
something in him.  His face brightened and he said loudly, "I work on
projects for people.  Tania brings me their broke pieces of equipment and
I am able to reconfigure the parts into usable devices.  Or sometimes
people make special requests for certain items that are no longer
available in the Fleet.  It is really quiet easy to change the basic
programing of one device, modify the underlying algorithms, and
reconfigure the..."
     The words  blurred into an unintelligible buzz  by the second
sentence as his head reeled.  Starbuck stared blearily at the man who was
now rambling on - and on - oblivious to the seriousness of the situation,
or so it seemed. Abruptly, though, the monologue ceased, and Copernicus
lapsed back into silence, once more staring and rocking. 
     It made no sense to him, and he didn't have the strength to figure
it out.  Starbuck took several slow, deliberately shallow breaths,
closing his eyes. The burning, piercing sensation in his back was beyond
anything he could remember, and it overshadowed the myriad of other bumps
and bruises, aches and pains.  Once, during  another unfortunate triad
match, he had been kicked in the small of the back, but it was nothing -
nothing-- compared to this.  He clung to one small consolation: he could
still feel his fingers and toes.  So the damage was most likely not to
the spine itself.  However, when an involuntary cough sent his entire
back into fiery spasms for several eternally long centons, he almost
wished for paralysis instead.  
     Gradually, the agony subsided.  "Copernicus,"  he whispered
eventually.
     The man continued to stare and rock, lost in a world of his own, it
seemed.
     "Copernicus!"  he said again, and almost felt the spasms return.  He
tried desperately to relax.
     "Yes," the man said at last, glancing at the lieutenant briefly.
     "Can you contact the Galactica for me?," he whispered slowly. "Or
someone - a security guard - anyone!"   Starbuck pleaded, confused by his
rescuer's withdrawal.
     Copernicus stood, pacing back and forth, saying, "I don't know. I
can't talk to people."  He finally looked the lieutenant in the eyes.  "I
physically can't deal with lots of people - all of the noise, the images,
the smells - it scrambles my senses.  I've always been this way. 
Always..."  He withdrew again, his eyes glazing.  Then Starbuck saw his
lips moving, and watched in puzzlement and growing apprehension
as Copernicus seemed to hold a very quiet but animated conversation with
himself.  After several centons, he said aloud, glancing at Starbuck, "I
will try!"
     The lieutenant closed his eyes again, drained, unable to hold back
the dizziness that was swelling from inside.  His head was throbbing,
throbbing...  He slipped into unconsciousness again.  
     Copernicus put a hand to the lieutenant's chest and felt a rise and
fall, but it was uneven, irregular, and shallow.  He noticed that the
cloths supporting the warrior's head were stained with blood.

*******
     
     Where did you leave him?" asked Adama of Boomer, as the shuttle
accelerated out the launch bay. He didn't turn to look at the warrior.
Just asked.
     "With Sheba, sir."
     "Sheba?" Now Adama did turn, surprised.
     "I was going to take him to the civilian waiting area, but I ran
into Sheba. She and Barton just got back from patrol. I gave her a brief
explanation, and then ran to make the shuttle."
     "I see. Well," Adama shrugged, and fell silent once more. He looked
about the shuttle. "Doctor Salik?"
     "Commander?"
     "Where's Cassiopeia?"
     "I left her in Life Station, sir."
     "Oh? Why?"
     "There are still the flight physicals to log, and considering recent
events..." He let the sentence hang for a moment. "I thought perhaps it
might be best if she didn't come on this one. MedTech Travis and some of
the others were  at  the top of the roster anyway, so I brought him with
me. He's more than competent, and has considerable triage experience."
     "Very well."
     "Sir," asked Castor, leading the ten-man Security squad, "anything
new on the situation aboard the Sagittarius?"
     "Nothing for the last few centons, Sergeant. Communications seem to
be intermittent."
     "Do you think it could be those aliens with the cloaks again, sir?
the ones who wrecked the Agro Ship One?"
     "I don't think so, Sergeant. There has been nothing on any scanner
sweep, and the patrols have reported nothing untoward. However, we are
continuing to be alert for them." Castor fell silent, seemingly satisfied
for the moment. Adama did as well, as they sailed on.
 
*******
 
     "What would you like?" Sheba asked Chameleon, as they settled into
chairs in the Officer's Club. Chameleon looked nervous, as if he were
treading on some Holy of Holies of Fighter Pilotdom, but found his voice
nonetheless. 
     "Uh, just a mineral water, thank you."
     "No hard stuff, eh?"
     "No. I had to give that up a few yahren ago. One of the penalties
one pays for getting old.  And besides, Siress Blassie isn't about to let
me take up the habit again." He sat, and watched Sheba move towards the
bar, admiring the extreme fluidity of her movements. If only...he allowed
himself to think, almost envying Apollo his fortune. Even on the Senior
Ship, they had heard rumors of Captain Apollo's approaching sealing. By
the time Sheba returned with their drinks, his face was "innocent" once
more. "So, this is where you all relax after your missions."
     "Just the officers," Sheba answered. "Although on occasion the
Commander has waived the rules. So," she said, then took a sip of her
ambrosia, "what's up?"
     "Up?"
     "Oh come on, Chameleon. Commander Adama didn't call you over from
the Senior Ship just to dump you in the O'Club. This has to do with
Starbuck, or I'm a virgo cadet."
     "Well, uh, yes. It does. Actually." Sheba noted the difficulty the
old con man had spitting it out. "You're not ill, are you?"
     "No, I'm fine. Fine as can be at my age. It's just, well..."
     "Yes?" said Sheba, trying not to let the grin show over the top of
her mug. 
     "I'm in trouble with the Commander. In fact, I'm...well, I'm in
trouble with just about everyone."
     "For what?" she asked, in her smoothest, most comforting voice.
     "I...I lied about being Starbuck's father."
     "And he found out," said Sheba, face almost unreadable. 
     "Yes, I...how did you know?"
     "Well, the only thing that travels faster than lightspeed on a
Battlestar is news. I caught some scuttlebutt down in the landing bay
when I got back." She took another sip. "So."
     "So. Well, I did lie. The tests Cassiopeia ran were positive.
Starbuck is my son." For a moment, the briefest moment, Sheba saw
something in the old man's eye. She saw pride. Pride in a son who had
achieved so much, who had risen above his background to be more. 
     "Why didn't you tell him? I mean, if it were me, I'd sure want to
know."
     "Starbuck was going to give up everything, just to be with me.
Resign from the service, give up flying, all his friends. And for what?
An old crook who has to struggle just to tell the truth? That would have
been no life for him. Starbuck is a Warrior, first and foremost. You need
him a lot more than I ever could, Lieutenant."
     "Sheba, please. Well, I understand all that, and I see the logic of
it. But trust me, Starbuck would resign from the service about as readily
as he'd send natal day gifts to Baltar. But there's more. I can tell."
     "How?"
     "My father is Commander Cain, remember. Reading people is a
specialty."
     "I see," said Chameleon. For some reason, despite her being a
Warrior, almost Adama's daughter-in-law, as well as the daughter of the
fearsome Cain, Chameleon felt surprisingly at ease with this woman.  More
at ease then he'd felt during the last six sectars with Siress Blassie,
who had been more mother-figure than anything else.  Maybe it was Sheba's
beauty, maybe it was her voice. 
     Hades, maybe he was just tired of lying.  He knew that if he tried
to be open with Blassie the way he was with Sheba now,  his chaperone
would never let him hear the end of it in a sad-voiced lecture of
disappointment that he lacked the fortitude to face anytime soon.
     "Yes, there is, Lieut..." He stopped, as she wagged a finger at him.
"Sheba. I'm... not a good man. I never was."
     "How so?"
     Well, when I was a young man, younger than Starbuck, I did more than
just cheat at pyramid to make a living. I was a member of a criminal
organization. A 'Family' we called it. I enforced the directives of my
superiors, I stole, I...intimidated people. I even..."
     "Committed murder?" Chameleon didn't answer, but his eyes told Sheba
all she needed to know.
     "I was a complete and total piece of garbage, Sheba. I can barely
remember even a fraction of my crimes, they were so many."
     "And then?"
     "Then, I left. Or tried to. I found that one of my associates was
trying to have me killed, and so I...returned the favor, and disappeared.
For years, I was free, or thought I was. I settled in Umbra, and met a
woman. A wonderful, gorgeous woman, Gabriella. I was working as a dealer
in a small casino when I met her, and we were sealed a few sectars later.
Then, with what I had saved, and her inheritance from her late father, we
bought a farm." he stopped, staring into his glass. he sighed, then
resumed.
     "It was glorious. I loved being an agro-worker. Doing honest work
for the first time in my life. You wouldn't think it to see me now, but I
got pretty hefty, working that farm." he smiled, remembering. "Then,
about a yahren later, we had a son. it was like being in heaven, Sheba.
My life was complete, and I was so happy, I was next to insane.' he
smiled a few moments more, then it faded.
     "And then?"
     "And then, they found me. My former...friends. I had changed my
name, even had some plastic surgery, but somehow, they found me. They
told me what they were going to do. How they were going to kill first my
wife, then my son as I watched, and then me. And they meant it, Sheba.
These scum don't kid around."
     "And then the Cylons attacked?"  Sheba knew, instinctively.
     "Yes. Almost as if on cue. Just as we pulled up in their hovercar, I
heard the engines, and saw the laser blasts. Next thing I knew, I was
waking up, in a ditch, burned and in pain but alive. The gangsters were
dead, but my farmhouse was gone. Just a black, smoldering hole in the
ground."
     "Did you look for them? Your family?"  As she listened, Sheba felt a
mixture of horror and pity.
     "Yes, of course. My son's room had taken a direct hit, and I found
charred and...and broken bones strewn about. That was all...all that was
left. Or so I thought." He stopped, and finished his drink. "After that,
I went sort of insane for a while. I wandered about, in a fugue for
several yahren. When I finally came to myself, it was almost eight yahren
later, and I was broke. So, I went back to what I knew best. Wagering and
conning people. And so here I am."
     "And you never guessed that your son had survived?"
     "No. I was sure they were gone. But it seems I was wrong. Sheba,
don't get me wrong. I'm proud of Starbuck. he's become a hundred times
the man I ever was. But I'm ashamed of who I was. Garbage. A criminal.
Starbuck is so honorable. So...clean. He'd be ashamed to know the truth
about what sort of man fathered him. I...I just couldn't look him in the
eye and tell him the truth." Chameleon looked down at the table top, and
despite all, Sheba was certain this was no act. "I'm...I'm so ashamed of
what I was, Sheba. My own contempt is enough. To suffer my son's would be
more than I could bare.  And things really haven't changed a lot since
then.  Look at how I was led to Starbuck in the first place.  Not because
I'd stumbled into the possibility of finding out the truth, but because I
needed a convenient excuse to get away from the Nomen." he finished his
water and put the empty glass down, "No matter how much 'rehabilitating'
Blassie might put me through, I can never erase the past to the point
where I could present myself to Starbuck as his father.  That's why I'd
hoped...that Starbuck and I could have been friends in a different
way."
     "Look, Chameleom," began Sheba, putting a hand on his. "We all have
a past, but the Holocaust put paid to everything that went before."
     "Even me?"
     "Even you. In fact..." She stopped, looking up. Athena was entering
the O'Club, Cassie with her. Chameleon caught her expression, and turned
to look. 
     "Oh Hades!" he whispered, as his heart sank.  


************

     "They have us, Commander," said Boomer, from the co-pilot's seat.
"We'll be touching down in six and a half centons."
     "Good. Have Captain Tovar meet us in the bay."
     "Right, Commander.' After a few moments: "Sir, the Sagittarius
reports Captain Tovar is unavailable. First Mate Evangelion will meet us
in the bay."
     "Very well."

***********

     Taking several deep breaths of his own, Copernicus turned and
hurried out down the corridor.  He concentrated on a line of piping that
ran at the top of the corridor, tracking it with his eyes. 
Copernicus often marveled that he had been able to survive the holocaust,
especially amazed that he had been able to endure the chaos of boarding
the escaping ships filled with people and had been able to
adjust to his new environment.  He knew he would never have made it
without the help of his one true friend, the woman whom he was now
seeking, Tarnia.  
     Back on Sagittaria, he had lived in a partial-aid facility for
people with disabilities.  As a small child, he had been overwhelmed by
sensory input due to a neurological disorder.  He could not handle all of
the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations that the average person
processes subconsciously every moment.  For him, the world was chaotic,
and he had withdrawn into his own inner world.  He had not learned to
speak until nearly 5-yarhens-old, and even now, verbal communication was
difficult for him.  However, with the help of caring parents and
teachers, he had learned to handle and cope with his disability.  He had
made it through the secondary school and even through several semesters
at a technical university.  Later, at the residential facility, with the
help of several others, but mostly through Tarnia's aid and support, he
had made a marginal living repairing electronics, as well as through
creating and selling his own small inventions.  Anything technical or
electronic held a great fascination for him, to the point of obsession,
really.  Whereas people were random and unpredictable, stressing his
sensory controls, the physics behind all electronic devices never changed
and were second nature to him, almost.  Had his disability and his
inability to deal with people and new situations not hampered him, he
could have made great accomplishments.
     On that fateful night of the Cylon raids and destruction of the
homeworlds, it was solely because of Tarnia that he had survived.  She
had pulled him from his apartment and literally dragged him screaming to
the transport, and she had vehemently protected him through all that had
followed, until finally they were settled on the Sagittarius.  She had
even located his current "residence" for him and now acted as his
intermediary for supplies and electronics to repair for the other
occupants.  
     So intense was Copernicus' concentration that he had reached the
residential area of the ship before he knew it. He prayed furiously now
that Tarnia would be in her quarters.  With only a slight hesitation, he
opened the hatch.  Closing his eyes, he used his hand to guide his way to
the nearest residence to his left and rapped loudly four times on the
door. Eyes still closed, he could feel his heart pounding against his
chest as he waited.  A moment later, he heard the door open, and a pair
of hands gently pulled him inside the tiny room. As the familiar smells
filled his senses, he opened his eyes to see Tarnia gazing questioningly
at him.
     In the familiar setting, surrounded by familiar sights, sounds, and
smells, he could relax and feel as he thought a "normal" person must
feel.  Tarnia waited patiently as Copernicus mentally prepared what he
needed to say, not rushing him, for she knew that would just unsettle
him.  She knew that for him, speaking even his own language was much like
someone trying to speak a second language in which that person was not
quite fluent.  Finally, he said, "a man was in the corridor, and he needs
help.  He is hurt and bleeding.  I put him in my bed, but he is not well. 
He is a warrior from the Galactica."
     Tarnia looked at her friend, perplexed.  "What in Kobol's name...?" 
Her voice trailed off.  The day was becoming stranger and stranger. 
First, the explosion had rattled everyone.  Tarnia had been getting ready
in her quarters to head out for her shift as part of the cleaning crew. 
Like most of the passengers, she had paused, waiting, listening and
wondering.  A few moments later, the captain had  come over the ship-wide
intercom, explaining briefly and succinctly what had happened and stating
that everything was under control.  All should proceed about their
business.
     And so she had - until about five centons later, when  the captain
had announced that they had an 'emergency situation' in the Commons Area. 
Anyone with medical training was to report there, and everyone else was
to remain where they were until instructed otherwise.  Once more
information was available, all would be explained.  But, for now, they
were in a 'Level Two Security  Situation'.  So she had tried to busy
herself in her tiny compartment, cleaning already clean shelves and
wondering what was going on.
     And now this.  "Okay," she said.  She didn't ask for further
information or question what Copernicus had told her.  She didn't need
to.  He had told her all he could, and pressing for more information
would just fluster him.  "Okay," she repeated, pondering the best course
of action.  "We need to get help for him."  She let out a long breath. 
"I--"
     The intercom crackled again. Copernicus winced, covering his ears. 
The captain's voice spoke a
moment later:  "I want to repeat.  We are in a Level Two Securty
Situation, lock down conditions.  All persons are to remain where they
are.  Only authorized personnel are permitted  any movement about the
ship at this time.  Authorized personnel include anyone with medical
training.  Your assistance is required in the Commons Area.  I repeat,
all others remain in lock-down conditions.  More information will be
provided soon.  Tovar out."  
     Copernicus uncovered his ears slowly and looked at Tarnia, silent. 
She let out a long, deep breath.  "Go back and help the warrior."  She
spoke clearly, slowly, to be sure he understood and to keep him calm. "I
will tell the captain.  Very soon, he will send people to bring the
warrior back to the Galactica."  She could see Copernicus tensing at the
prospect of unfamiliar people invading his "safe area."  She gently
gripped his shoulders and said, "Don't worry.  I will be with them. Now,
go!"
     Tarnia led him back out of her quarters and through the service
hatch that led to the maintenance corridors below, down where Copernicus
felt safe and secure.  She watched only briefly as he disappeared down
the dark passage.  To carry out her promise that she would accompany any
rescuers, she knew she needed to speak directly to the captain.  As she
reached the exit hatch for her residential level, however, a security
guard stood in front of the door.  She slowed as she approached him.
     "Ma'am," he said, raising his hand to indicate that she should stop. 
"Please return to your quarters, as the captain requested."  He gave her
a stern look.
     Tarnia looked him in the eye and said, "Sir, I used to be a medical
aide.  I...I want to help."  It was almost a true statement, though her
previous occupation before the holocaust had been more of a caretaker,
not a medical aide.
     The guard's expression changed, and he waved her on, saying, "Go,
then!  I was told we  need all the help we can get in the Commons Area."
     Using the same excuse with the rest of the guards she encountered,
Tarnia made it from her  the fore end of Deck Fourteen to the aft end of
Deck Seven, where the Commons Area was located,   about 5 centons later.
When the lift door hissed open, she felt her gut tighten.  The debris
strewn about the corridor bespoke some kind of troubled situation.  As
she entered through the hatch into the Commons Area, she stopped cold.
Debris and broken equipment were scattered about, and in an area near the
opposite corner from where she had entered she first heard, then saw, the
cluster of injured people  and those providing aide.  Tables had
happhazardly been pushed aside to accommodate the victims. She knew that
the Sagittarius' medical staff was small, no more than a dozen beds,
three doctors, and five or so technicians.  Most likely, she figured, the
injured would have to be transported to the Galactica for treatment.  
     For a moment, she almost forgot her own mission, but then,
remembering, she steeled herself against the sights and sounds and
concentrated on locating the captain.  Looking closely, she spotted the
captain working side-by-side with the doctors. She had known she would
find him here, for he was a compassionate man who cared deeply for his
passengers and crew. 
     Treading her way through the debris towards the captain, she was
about to call to him when the doors hissed open behind her, and help
flooded in.  The Galactica's medical team quickly spread out to assist
with the vitims.  Three warriors, one of who Tania recognized as
Commander Adama, strode in and stopped as she had.  She saw the the shock
and concern wash over their faces, then watched the commander stare until
he spotted the captain.  Then he and the other two warriors walked
quickly in his direction.  Tarnia stood still, watching, until they had
passsed her.  Then she followed them.
     As he approached, the commander called out, "Captain, what is your
current situation?"
     With cropped black hair, peppered grey, and dark brown, almost black
eyes, Captain Tovar stood a half a head taller than the commander.  As he
spoke, his gaze shifted to the medical teams, watching them work, his
concern and frustration at what had happened written in the stern
expression on his face.  "Forty-three people were injured.  Most  have
been treated and sent back to their quarters.  Seventeen were injured
more seriously."  His eyes flickered to where medtechs were working on
several prone forms.  "Three are in critical condition."  
     "What exactly happened?"  Adama asked.  He had heard the preliminary
report, but it had been sketchy.
     Tovar closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  "Approximately 70
some people were in here, as usually happens in the mornings before many
of the work cycles start... "  He shifted his attention from the injured
to stare at the commander.  "According to the security guards, Those
blasted Il Fadim followers - Sherok and his cronies - were doing their
best to rile everyone up by spouting blatant accusation.  They had
everyone edge, and security had just ordered them out - for disorderly
conduct - when the explosion occurred.  And then the people panicked," 
Tovar said, his voice bitter.  "They stampeded for the exit and people
got pushed and trampled."
     Tania, felt  a sense of urgency, yet knew she needed to wait for an
appropriate time  to interrupt.  So, for the moment, she watched and
listened, unnoticed, so far.
     Tovar continued.  "We are under a Level 2 Security Lock Down.  I..." 
He paused, his eyes drifting once more towards those who had been
critically injured.  The Galactica's medical team had secured each to a
stretcher and were preparing to move them out.  "One of those--"  He
motioned with his head towards the victims.  "-- is my Security Chief. 
And  good friend."  He turned his attention once more to the commander.
"The several of the other guards and some of the people have reported
that  during the chaos that followed the explosion..."  He paused, his
face growing stern.  "They 've reported that Sherok and some of his
followers were adding to the havoc, actually fighting, hitting people." 
He shook his head in disbelief.  "And they've since vanished.  I've got
my security forces looking for them, but there's been no words, so far."
     Adama motioned to his security detail, who, until that moment, had
been standing to the side awaiting instructions.  "Find them," was all he
said.  The seven Colonial Security Guards took off at a sprint.  Adama
turned to Tovar.  "Captain, you've done an excellent job here under
difficult conditions.  We'll do all that we can to find anyone who dares
incite a riot.  Now,"  he said, glancing at Apollo and Boomer, who were
waiting with visible impatience, "a couple of questions on a matter of
concern to us."
     "Yes?"  Tovar gazed at the commander expectantly.
     "One of my warriors landed on the Sagittarius earlier, but we've had
no word from him.  We think he came to see one of the passengers.  We
need--"
     "Commander."  Tarnia spoke loud enough to grab Adama's attention. 
All four turned to stared at her. "Commander!" she said again.  "I know
where your warrior is."  
     "Where?" Apollo spoke first.
     Tarnia looked up at Captain Tovar, knowing that he would understand. 
"He's with Copernicus.  And he's been hurt."
     Apollo paled visibly and Adama sucked in a breath.  Boomer closed
his eyes and muttered a silent curse.  
     "Do you know what happened?"  Captain Tovar asked.  
     She shook her head.  "No, not really.  All I know is that Copernicus
came to me and said that he had found the warrior near his area.  He's
hurt, but I don't know how badly."
     Adama placed a hand on Apollo's shoulder as he spoke,  "Apollo, you
and Boomer go with -" He paused to look at her.
     "Tarnia," she filled in.
     He continued, "with Tarnia.  I need to make sure that everything is
secure here and talk to the maintenance crew."
     Tovar motioned to one of his medics.  The man trotted over. 
"There's an injured man, a  warrior,"  he said, "down on Copernicus'
level.  Go with these men."
     The medtech nodded and Tarnia turned and headed out.  Apollo, half
walking, half running, pulled up even with her and asked, "Just what is
'Copernicus' area'?"
     Still staring straight ahead, Tarnia explained about Copernicus and
why he lived where he did.  She cautioned them that their presence would
be stressful for him, and it would be difficult for him to communicate. 
Patience, she stressed, was the key.  
     Even at a near run, it took almost ten  centons to reach the lower
service area where Copernicus resided. The corridor was dark, illuminated
only by dim lights spaced out near the ceiling.  As they neared
Copernicus' place, Tarnia slowed.  As they rounded the final turn, she
came to an abrupt halt when his tiny alcove became visible.  Apollo and
Boomer, followed by the nedtech, nearly collided with her.  They were
about to question her when they looked over  to the scene beyond.  Apollo
felt a hard knot in his stomach as he looked at the scattered remains of
Copernicus' electronics littering the corridor.  His blanket walls had
been torn down, and everything strewn about.  No one seemed to be
present, not Starbuck, not Copernicus.  The deathly silence of the scene
gripped the four.
     "By the Lords..."  Boomer whispered.
     Tarnia was the first to move.  "Copernicus!"  she screamed, rushing
forward.  She hurriedly searched the area, then moved further down the
corridor.  Feeling numb by the turn of events, Apollo and Boomer followed
her.  She continued to call his name, her voice echoing through the
passage.  They were about to turn around when she heard a low moaning
hum.  She instantly recognized it as Copernicus in full
distress mode.  At the same instant, she heard the footsteps.  Whose, she
didn't know.
     Tarnia turned quickly and said, "Captain! Keep back!  If we
overwhelm Copernicus, we'll never find out what happened!"
     His instincts telling him to trust her, Apollo swung around to face
the new arrivals - three members of the Sagittarius security force, who
had undoubtedly heard Tarnia's shouts.  He hurried back to meet them and
motioned for them to stay back as they, too, surveyed Copernicus' wrecked
residence.  Boomer trailed behind Tarnia as she tried to locate the
source of the humming.  As they moved slowly down the corridor, a figure
huddled in a space below a series of piping grew visible. 
     Tarnia indicated for Boomer to stay back as she slowly approached. 
Copernicus sat beneath the pipes, knees hugged tightly to his chest,
rocking vigorously back and forth, his breathing coming in the constant
hum.  His eyes were open but glassy.  She swallowed, letting out a
long-held breath, and said slowly, distinctly, "Copernicus!"
     He made no indication of hearing her. Tarnia turned to Boomer and
said, "He's in complete withdrawal.  It may take some time to bring him
out again.  Please, be patient."  
     Boomer nodded and headed back to inform Apollo.
     Tarnia focused her attention on Copernicus.  Kneeling in front of
him,  she said  repeatedly, slowly and clearly, "Copernicus.  It's me. 
It's Nia." 
     For several centons he continued to hum and rock, oblivious.  Tarnia
persisted, keeping her tone firm but calm.  Finally, his eyes darted
briefly in her direction, and the humming stopped, but the rocking
continued.
     Careful to stay out of the way, Apollo, Boomer, and the others
waited silently, if not patiently.  Apollo kept glancing at his
chronometer, which glowed in the dim light.  He was keenly aware of each
passing micron of what now felt  like a nightmare.  And it just seemed to
get worse and worse. He glanced at Boomer, who was shifting from foot to
foot.  He froze when he heard Copernicus' voice break the silence.
     "Flickering lights.  Flickering lights.  Flickering lights," he
said.  His voice was a monotone, and he continued to repeat the phrase,
still rocking.

CHAPTER SIX

     A strong fragrance burning in his nostrils penetrated the darkness
and dragged him once again to the edge of  consciousness.  This time,
Starbuck fought it.  He had lost any sense of where or when or with  whom
he was.  Or what was real.  Confusing, incomprehensible images, merged
with dreams and visions.  Faces floated through his mind, some bizarre
and frightening, but others familiar and  comforting. He clung to
those...Apollo.  Boomer. The other pilots. A party in the O.C.  Sheba. 
Dancing, laughter, a feeling of floating high... a celebration to Apollo
and Sheba.  Cassiopeia.  Cassie . .  . Chameleon.  Chameleon...
     A gaunt, ghostly vision with eyes that burned to the core of his
soul.  Enshrouded.  A voice that sent a chill through every nerve...
"Wake up, oh infidel one... wake up..."  chanting over and over and over.
     Starbuck shifted. And cried out as the  piercing pain coursed
through  his back.  It jarred him back to the conscious world.  "Frak..."
he muttered, as the wave slowly subsided.
     He focused on controlling his breathing, on relaxing tense, weary
muscles. Eventually, he opened his eyes, blinking and trying to make
sense of his surroundings, while moving nothing.  He was lying on the
cold, hard deck.  Where?  Where...he had no idea.  It was dark, except
for...  He saw flickering shadows, dancing on the bulkheads,  which he 
suddenly realized must be from candles placed below the range of his
vision. The fragrance, the burning scent... it had to be candles.  
     Looking around, he could see the walls angle to the corridor, which
stretched out into the darkness to his right.  It seemed to be some kind
of maintenance area.  Staring, squinting up, he saw several service
panels and a large grate covering, most likely a ventilation shaft.  To
his left were a wall and more access panels. Somewhere in the bowels of a
ship, he decided. Which ship? He didn't know, didn't remember. 
     Movement, footsteps, a rustling of fabric.  The bizarre face
appeared above him, smiling - a cold smile that sent shivers down raw
nerves.  Shadows danced and flickered on the walls, across the nightmare
vision. "What in Hades..." he managed to whisper.  He had a surreal
feeling. Total confusion.  He closed his eyes tightly shut, then opened
them again, blinking, but the scene did  not change.  He felt his pulse
and breathing quickening as his mind raced to make sense of it all,
unsuccessfully.  
     "Wake up, oh infidel one... wake up..."  The chanting, breathy voice
came from the visage above him.  A tall figure, wrapped in a dark shroud,
the only feature clearly visible the eyes, which seemed to glow as the
candles reflected off them.  
     "Who... are... you?"  he manged to whisper.
     "You're savior, your judge, the redeemer of your soul!"  The figure
laughed, a loud maniacal sound, that   startled Starbuck; he cried out
again as the movement sent shock waves through every fiber of his body.
     
*****

     Captain Apollo, out of patience, was about to demand that they start
searching again, when Copernicus stopped rocking and looked directly at
Tarnia.  "People. Candles.  Dark shawls.  Yelling. 
Chanting. Loud.  Loud!  Breaking everything!" Copernicus repeated it
several times.
     Tarnia looked at Apollo, Boomer, and the others. "That's that crazy
*Il Fadim* group!"
     The guards nodded, frowning. "That's them, all right," one said with
a bitter edge to his voice.  "And we're constantly chasing them from
these lower levels. They must be somewhere down in these service
corridors."
     Apollo knew that they had been at the heart of the panic, knew that
security was searching for them.  And now they  apparently had Starbuck. 
Feeling anger growing along with his frustration, Apollo took several
deep breaths to stay calm.  "All right, Boomer, go with these two here
and search that way,"  he indicated two of the security guards and
pointed down the corridor, then nodded to the other and the medtech. 
"You," he said, "come with me! Report in every 15 centons."  Apollo
pulled his transceiver from hisbelt, and Boomer did the same.  With a
determined look, Apollo, Boomer, and the security guards headed in
opposite directions down the dark corridor.
     Tarnia had turned to watch and listen.  When she turned back to
comfort Copernicus, he was gone.  "What?" she said in surprise and
searched for him, but he had vanished, seemingly.  A typical reaction,
given the circumstance.  Her concern, though, was tempered by the
knowledge that he knew how and where to hide.  With nothing else to do as
she waited, she began cleaning up the debris and broken electronics. 

*****

     The voice that broke the ensuing silence was guttural, harsh, a
rough staccato with pauses after every couple of words and  a pitch that
rose and fell for emphasis. "Warrior, today you--  will begin a journey.
Take a new path.  The path to enlightenment--  and peace.  For nearly a
yahren-- we have followed the course-- of this Fleet.  In the hope that -
all--  shall escape the devastation-- wrought by the Cylons.  But we see
no end-- only the slow-- withering of our souls-- as we waste away-- in
these metal tombs."
     Starbuck frowned up at the figure above him.  The sound of the man's
voice made his head pound  as he listened and  tried to make sense of it
all.  "Who are you?"  he breathed.
     "We are *Il Fadim*. And the  time is now."  The man drew his arm out
from under the shroud, revealing a long, thin dagger whose serrated blade
glinted in the candle light.  Holding it against his forehead, eyes
closed, he began to chant in  Sagittaria. 
     Starbuck stared up, his head  suddenly clear, eyes locked on the
weapon.  "Now wait one centon!  You don't really want to do this."  He
spoke as loudly as he dared.  His mind raced.  He couldn't move, couldn't
defend himself.  What could he do?  "Let's talk about this, why don't
we?"  It sounded weak and desperate, even to his own ears.
     The man ignored him, continuing to chant, eyes closed.  
     "Look," he tried again, "just what do you hope to accomplish?"
     Slowly the eyes opened.  "We seek salvation.  An end to this-- slow
death.  Our souls are-- withering-- and dying in these-- metal tombs, as
you-- and your Warrior comrades-- fill our minds-- with lies and conceal
the truth - the truth that we will-- slowly wither and die."  
     "What," said Starbuck, his voice a breathy whisper as he fought back
the pounding in his skull, "do you want us to do?"
     The man  lowered the dagger until it rested against his chest.  He
drilled the lieutenant with his icy stare.  "It is time to release our
souls from the abyss that encompasses us all."
     
*******

     "Just hang on a centon."  Sheba put a hand over Chameleon's and
rose, walking purposely towards the two women.  
     The old man switched his gaze to watch as Athena leaned close to say
something to Cassie and seemed to  scan the O-club for a place to sit.  A
micron later, though, Cassie caught sight of him.  She froze, her face
went stern, and she turned to leave.  Sheba grabbed her arm and said
something to her as Athena looked on, switching her gaze from   Sheba to
Cassie to Chameleon.  He could tell that Cassie was not easily convinced
of... whatever Sheba was trying to convince her, because the medtech
waved her arms, jabbing in his direction for a moment.  Sheba put her
hands on Cassie's shoulders.  The medtech stopped mid-jab, then gazed at
the lieutenant, apparently caught off guard by something Sheba had said. 
Now, when she flicked her gaze towards him, her expression was confused,
uncertain.  Finally, Sheba took Cassie by an elbow and gently led her
towards the table.  Athena followed behind.  When they were within a
metron or so, Sheba said, "Just five centons, all right?"
     Cassie kept her eyes on Chameleon but nodded.
     "Athena and I'll be over at the bar, if you need us.  Come on." 
Sheba motioned to Athena and the two walked off, leaving Cassie to stare
at the con man, her expression a mixture of conflicting emotions.  
     "Please, sit down,"  Chameleon said, trying  to break the awkward
silence.
     Cassie didn't budge, didn't say a word.  
     "You can start with 'I told you so,' if you'd like,"  Chameleon
said, keeping his face calm despite the fact his heart was pounding in
his ears.  "Or how about, 'You're a lying, worthless piece of scum,'
which would be pretty close to being right."
     The medtech finally, slowly, pulled out a chair and sat down, her
back ram rod straight.  "Sheba said that I should listen to you,"  she
said.  Her voice was clipped, the anger beneath barely held back.  "You
have 5 centons."
     "All right, all right..."  Chameleon gazed down at his empty glass. 
"Would you like something to drink?"
     "Just cut the pleasantries and explain."
     The old man took a deep breath and fingered the glass.  "Okay. 
Well... The problem was... oh, frak!"  Chameleon suddenly glared up at
Cassie.  "I made a mistake in judgment, okay?  A huge one, but I never,
never meant to hurt Starbuck.  Never."
     "Well, you--"  The medtech started, but he cut her off.
     "Yes, I did."  he said.  "Now, you said you'd give me 5 centons.  So
please, please just try to listen - and save any judgments until I'm
finished."
     She could sense that his anger was self directed, sense that, maybe,
for once, he was about to be honest with her.  And she had promised
Sheba.  Cassie nodded.  "All right," she said quietly, taking a long
breath to push back her own emotions.  "I'm listening."
     "I didn't want to tell Starbuck the truth, " he said, gazing off at
nothing, "because I am so ashamed of my past."  The anger in Chameleon's
eyes turned quickly into regret as he told Cassie the story that he had
told Sheba.  As she listened, the medtech felt her own ire and
indigantion fade into pity and, if not agreement with his decision to
withhold the truth, an understanding, at least, of his motives.  Finally,
Chameleon gazed at her and said, "I really thought that... given how vile
my past was... I mean, hey, my own father was a criminal too...that it
would be better for Starbuck not to know that I was his father."  He
stared once more into his empty glass and fingered its edges. "No one
deserves that kind of father."
     Cassie pulled her chair closer and reached out grab his hand. 
"Chameleon," she said softly.  "Sheba reminded me - before she convinced
me to come over here - that anything that happened before the Holocaust
has... no meaning.  I understand now why she said that.  And--"  Cassie
squeezed his hand. "She's right.  We all are starting over."  She
chuckled, while at the same time fighting back tears. "Look at my past. 
There are those who would call it as 'vile' as yours--"
     "Cassie!  I--"  Chameleon looked shocked.
     The medtech shook her head.  "No, no.  I learned a long time ago to
ignore them and trust my own heart.  I still contend that being a
socialator - under the right circumstances and when the person truly
follows the Old Way - is an honorable designation.  But, now, under the
present conditions in the Fleet, it just would not have been appropriate. 
That's one reason I became a medtech."
     Chameleon nodded.  "Cassiopeia..."  His voice trailed off.  He
looked old and tired and vulnerable.
     Cassie smiled, a genuine, caring smile.  "Look," she said, "it may
take time, but I think even Starbuck will understand."
     "Maybe..."  Chameleon's eyes clouded.  "If they can find him."

*******

     Starbuck stared, not comprehending the words but understanding the
intent all too well.  "You're nuts!" he whispered.  He could feel his
heart pounding in his ears, fought to control his breathing.  Surely,
surely, this was a nightmare, and he would awake to find himself in his
bunk back on the _Galactica_.  Things certainly could not be any more
bizarre.  Or frightening.  
     The thin form that stood above him appeared  cadaverous in the dim,
flickering candlelight.  His eyes were closed once more, and his lips
moved in a soundless chant.  Slowly, with measured movements, he pulled
the dagger away from his chest and turned it until the long blade pointed
downward.  His eyes opened as he fingered the handle, rotating the blade
ever so slightly so that it glinted in the dim light.  He seemed to be
studying it, enraptured with the shiny, serrated surface.
     "What do you want us to do?'' Starbuck asked again, as loudly as he
could.  His voice held a desperate edge as he stared at the point of the
glinting blade.  He could not move, could not fight, only watch and wait.
And fight the horrible feeling of utter helplessness.  And bitter
frustration.  To die here, helpless, at the hands of another human...
when he had survived countless battles against the Cylons under seemly
impossible odds.  Anger swelled around the fear.  "Look at me!"  he
hissed.
     A cold smile spread across the madman's lips as he lowered his gaze
to his victim.  "It is time," he whispered.  He started to raise the
dagger. 
     The sound of pounding footfalls, growing nearer and nearer, suddenly
permeated the silence.  The man's eyes flashed upward as he squinted into
the dark.  His face folded into a scowl.
     The foot steps stopped abruptly, the echoing dying quickly.  And
then a  familiar voice said, "What's going on here?"  
     He turned his head slightly, enough to see a wonderful, wonderful
sight:  Apollo, laser drawn, and two others, whom he did not recognize,
stood panting a short distance away.  Then Starbuck gazed up to find the
tip of the dagger pointed squarely at his heart, a bare ten centimetrons 
above.  The man had dropped to his knees.
     "Hand over your weapons," he breathed.  Even in the obscure light,
the lieutenant could see that his knuckles were white and shaking as they
gripped the handle of the knife.
     Apollo and the security guard froze.  "Look, I've called for
reinforcements," the captain stated.  "Put down the knife, Sherok, and no
one will be hurt.  Let's talk."
     "The words of Diabolis mean nothing to me!"  The man growled.  "Hand
over the weapons!"  For emphasis, he lowered the blade until it jabbed
against Starbuck's chest.  Starbuck felt the sharp prick through his
tunic and flinched, then let out a loud gasp and clenched his teeth as
the pain coursed through his back muscles. "Obey, or he dies!"  Sherok
shrieked. 
     The captain sucked in his breath, silently debating if he could
shoot quick enough--
     "Now!" screamed Sherok.  And he swung the dagger to the lieutenant's
throat.  Starbuck gasped and clamped his jaw, struggling to keep from
moving as the blade sliced against his skin, drawing blood.
     Reluctantly, Apollo and the security guard let go of   their lasers;
they  clattered sharply on the deck.  A foreboding feeling  sunk over the
captain  as he shifted his gaze from Starbuck's grimacing, panting face,
to the long, nasty-looking blade pressed  against the lieutenant's
throat, to the shrouded man gripping the handle with shaking hands. "What
do you want?"  Apollo finally asked.
     Sherok stared without blinking at the captain, even as he climbed to
his feet once more.  Slowly, he  raised the dagger up.  A menacing smile
spread across the man's lips, yet his eyes remained icy cold. "You are
the witness to our salvation,"  he said, "and your friend shall lead the
way for us!"
     Apollo stared in horror, while mentally calculating the chances of
being able to stop the crazed man, given the distance, if he leaped at
him.  He had to try.  Events seemed to move in slow motion. Apollo sucked
in his breath, ready to move--
     Then, without warning and before Apollo or anyone else could react,
the grated cover on the ventilation shaft popped loose and tumbled down
on top of Starbuck's aggressor.  It was followed by Copernicus sliding
out headfirst, screaming as he came, landing squarely on the man's
shoulders.  The momentum carried them forward, over Starbuck.  Apollo and
the other two scrambled back, out of the way as they hit the floor. 
Copernicus rolled and twisted so that he ended up on top of Sherok.  In a
fury, still screaming, he sat up, straddled the man's back, and gripped
him by the hair, pounding his head against the floor.  
     For nearly a centon, Apollo stared at the scene, mouth open in
shocked amazement.  Then he motioned to the security guard. The two of
them pulled Copernicus, still screaming and out of control, from the now
limp form.  While the security guard held Copernicus from behind, arms
locked around him,Apollo grasped his face between his hands, forcing eye
contact, and repeated sternly and slowly, "Calm down.  Calm down."    He
had no idea if it would work, but he could think of nothing else to do. 
If short, repeated phrases had worked for Tarnia...
     Finally, Copernicus stopped fighting and relaxed.  When the guard
let go, he retreated from everyone, scooting back and away,  withdrawing
to a dark corner, sitting and rocking.
     Breathing in gasps, Apollo  grabbed his transceiver from his belt
and called for a medical team.  He also told Boomer, who had heard the
screams and had nearly reached their location, to bring Tarnia to deal
with Copernicus, who sat silently now, rocking,  eyes fixed on the deck. 
     Finally, he knelt next to Starbuck.  The lieutenant lay moaning,
eyes closed, only semi-conscious.  "Hey, buddy,"  Apollo whispered,
moving out of the way as the medtech crouched down next to him, "it won't
be long now.  We'll have you out of here soon."

*****

     "How is he?"  Apollo asked.  He and Boomer stood back as two
technicians carefully fitted a neck brace on Starbuck before transferring
him to the stretcher.  The lieutenant gave Apollo a drowsy smile, feeling
blissfully pain-free now that the strong local anesthetic had taken
affect.  The med techs, one on each side, carefully lifted him onto the
stretcher, fastening the safety straps to secure him.
     As they finished, one of the technicians turned to the two warriors
and explained, "He has a concussion and a serious back injury, but he
should be all right.  Since it's better to keep him conscious with a
concussion, we gave him the local anesthetic and muscle relaxant, as
opposed to full sedation."  The med tech glanced at his patient. "He
should feel nothing with the amount we used."  He nodded to his partner. 
"Let's get him out of here."
     Apollo wanted nothing more than to follow the medtechs, but he and
Boomer still had one more concern to attend to.  Earlier,  the  groggy
*Il Fadim,* leader had been escorted away by Castor and his men for
transport to the _Galactica_, where he  would face a variety of charges. 
As the two med techs quickly carried away the stretcher,a hollow silence
settled on the scene.  Apollo turned to the two remaining people and
asked, "Will he be all right?"
     Tarnia looked up from where she sat next to Copernicus, who was
still gently rocking, silent.  She smiled faintly, "He should be fine now
that the crowd is gone.  He'll be able to respond in a few centons."
     Boomer shook his head.  "I don't understand how or why he did it.
How did he find us through the ventilation shaft? And why did he help
us?"
     Tarnia put a hand gently on Copernicus' shoulder as she explained. 
"Well, first, he knows these ventilation shafts like the palm of his
hand.  He travels through them a lot because they are narrow and reduce
the extraneous sensory stimuli.  And he is a visual thinker, so he has
them memorized like a road map; he could go to just about anywhere in the
ship this way.  Whereas we might find the ventilation shaft tight and
confining, he finds it comforting.
     "As for why,"  Tarnia continued, "Two reasons, I'd imagine. To
protect your friend, plain and simple, and...he also has one heck of a
temper, as you saw. Those men destroyed his home and smashed all the
electronic equipment he had. His electronics are everything to him. They
are a place he can go that is systematic and orderly. A place free of
irrationality and disturbances. Like the shafts. Someone wrecked his safe
little world, and it infuriated him. Growing up, he learned to control
his screaming and his fits, which could be pretty violent, but
occasionally, something will still set him off. Anyway." Tarnia looked
from Apollo to Boomer. "He'll be fine. Go on. I'll see that he gets back
and help him put things back in order."
     Looking visibly relieved, both warriors said a quick "thank-you" and
headed for the upper level of the ship to find  the commander.

*****

     "How do you feel?"  Adama's voice was quiet, gentle, as he gazed
down at the lieutenant.  Two days had passed since he'd been brought back
to the Galactica's Life Station, battered and barely conscious.  Dr.
Salik had barred all visitors, until now, mainly because Starbuck had
been so drugged up on painkillers, as his body endured the first stages
of the regenerative process, that he would not have recognized anyone,
anyway.  Finally, though, Salik reported that he was well on the mend.
     Starbuck grinned. "Like I played triad against a Sagittian ursa. 
With cubs! Every centimetron of my body feels like it was trampled." 
When the Commander frowned, he added, "Hey, the doc says that I'll feel a
lot better in a day or two.  And I'll be out of here in three.  And
then--"  He stopped, his brow furrowing.  "And then I guess I'll have to
face whatever Colonel Tigh has planned for me, since I  . .  uh... didn't
exactly follow standard procedures."  His voice trailed off. "He's
proabably ready to have me cleaning out sludge filters on the sanitation
barge for the rest of my career." 
     Adama smiled.  "I think," he said, "given the circumstances, that
even Colonel Tigh might be willing to 'overlook' your 'transgression.'"
     "Really?"  Starbuck raised his eye brows.  
     "But,"  added the commander with mock sternness, "Don't expect it to
happen again."
     "Oh, no sir.  Never, sir."   He gave his most innocent look.  "I'll
be the model Warrior from now on.  Perfect record--"
     Adama snorted.  "And porcines will fly!"  He laughed as the
lieutenant winked and broke into a classic grin.
     The smile faded quickly, however.  They both knew that they were
avoiding the one subject that Starbuck had yet to - and needed to -face. 
The pause in the conversation stretched into an uncomfortable silence.
Finally, the commander said quietly, "A lot of people are worried about
you, and I've granted permission for Mairwen and young Cassy to come see
you later today, doctor permitting.  But, before  Dr. Salik  lets in the
scores of Warriors wanting to wish you well, I think," he said evenly,
watching Starbuck's expression, "you need to talk to a couple of people
first."
     The lieutenant chewed his lip, looking everywhere but at the
commander.  "Yeah, I suppose so.  Look--" He suddenly gazed straight into
his eyes.  "Can you send in Cassie .  I need to see her first."
     "Certainly."  Adama turned to go.
     "Wait!"
     He stopped and gave the lieutenant a questioning gaze.
     "What's going to happen to that, that madman?"  Starbuck's eyes
clouded at the memories of his ordeal aboard the Sagittarius.
     "Sherok is on the Prison Barge, along with several of his followers,
but they are going to have to evaluate his mental state.  As you could
guess, he's hardly what we'd call sane.  Sire Solon has ordered their
examination, and any tribunal will have to wait until all of the tests
are completed."
     "I see."  Starbuck pursed his lips.  "What about Copernicus?  I owe
him my life, you know,"  he said, his voice a breathy whisper.  
     "I want to look into helping him - and any others like him out there
in the Fleet."
     Starbuck frowned, concentrating, trying to pull up a memory, a
feeling.  Finally he got it.  "Commander," he said, "Copernicus is a lot
smarter than he seems.  I think... I think he might even be a genius.  He
had all of these electronics and inventions lying about.  It was
incredible..."
     Adama nodded.  "It was in Apollo's report.  I think you might be
right."  He smiled.  "Which is why I want to put him in contact with Dr.
Wilker, if possible."
     "That--"  Starbuck grinned at a thought, then stopped.  "I don't
know..."  he said slowly.  "I'm not sure who would drive whom crazy!"
     Adama chuckled, then said, "Now, enough delays.  There's a very
concerned young lady waiting to see you."

**************

     Cassiopeia entered slowly, hesitantly and stopped a few metrons from
Starbuck's biobed.  She stood, tense and nervous, looking very much like
an antelon poised to flee from a predator.  
     Starbuck gazed at her for a moment, taking in her anxious
countenance, but also seeing more: the depth of her fear, her concern,
her passion.  During every waking moment over the past two days, he had
replayed the scene in the Life Station, followed by his conversation with
Mairwen, as he asked himself, again and again,  why.  Why?  Mairwen's
defense of Cassie's actions had made sense, been sensible and reaonable. 
But logic did little to ease the incredible hurt.  Until now.  As he
gazed at Cassie, it clicked.  He not only knew the reasons why, but could
feel the sincerity in her actions and intentions.  "Cass..."  he said at
last.
     "I'm sorry..." she said, her voice choked with emotion.  "I never
meant..."
     "I know."  Starbuck held out his arms and smiled.  "I know.  Now
come here!"  
     Confused by his unexpected reaction, after having steeled herself
for the worst, Cassie sucked in a breath to keep her calm and  bit her
lip.  She  took a tentative step forward.
     "Cass," Starbuck said softly, "I understand.  It wasn't you. 
Chameleon--"  His face grew hard.  "Chameleon conned you, backed you into
a corner.  He's a pro.  So..."  The frown faded into an almost pleading
look. "How could I blame you?"
     The tears that had been threatening finally tumbled down her cheeks
as Cassiopeia let go.  She moved forward, slipping into his arms and
burying her face against his chest.  Her shoulders heaved in quiet sobs.
     Starbuck closed his eyes as he rested his chin on the top of her
head.  He gently stroked her hair, rubbed her back, as if soothing a
small child.  Yet, at that moment, that was about how he, himself,  felt. 
After the turbulent fluctuation of his own emotions, the shock, the
disbelief, the anger and despair, it felt good to just let go.  And to
allow true love - something he tried so hard to suppress and deny - to
swell up an envelope them both.  They needed no more words.  As the tears
streamed freely down his face, Starbuck felt the depths of her love, her
passion.  And his own.
     Finally, finally, as the tears ran dry,  Cassiopeia pulled herself
back.  She ran a finger across his cheek, down his chin, and gazed into
his eyes.  "I love you, you know," she whispered, a faint smile on her
lips.
     Starbuck grinned.  "I know."  He shifted in the bed, wincing as
newly healing muscles sent out mild protests.  
     "Are you okay?"  Cassie's face creased in concern.
     The grin broadened.  "I am now."  He pulled her back against his
chest, savoring her warmth and the soft feel of her hair, her face as he
caressed her cheek... "If you thought you could get rid of me that
easily, think again."
     "I--"  Cassie started to say, but Starbuck pressed his lips against
hers, and she melted into a long, passionate kiss...
     "Ahem."
     Cassie's eyes shot open and she pushed herself free of the embrace,
turning at the sound of her superior's voice.  She could feel her cheeks
burning.  "Doctor, I--"  She glanced at Starbuck, who looked far from
embarrassed...  more like smug...
     Salik shook his head, but was smiling.  "That's quite all right." 
He studied his patient for a moment.  "In fact, it looks to be quite
therapeutic.  Perhaps just what the doctor ordered."  he winked, and her
blush deepened.  Then he sighed.  "However, it's time for the next
treatment," he said, getting down to business once more.  "Since you're
not officially on duty, Cassiopeia, you need to wait outside."
     Cassie nodded and slid off the bed.  As she started for the exit,
however, she stopped and turned. "Starbuck," she said quietly, "what
about Chameleon?  Shall I tell him to wait?  He's outside, you know."
     The lieutenant's brow  creased in a frown and he closed his eyes. 
Both Salik and Cassiopeia waited in silence.  Finally, he said, "No.  Not
yet."  The fire burned in his eyes as he opened them to stare at the
doors.  "I need more time.  Maybe, maybe..."  He let out a long, slow
breath.  "Maybe in a day or two, but not now."
     Cassie bade a quiet "goodbye"  and headed on out.  Dr. Salik pursed
his lips, but said nothing for a moment, then at length: "Okay, you know
the routine by now.  Lie down on your stomach... ."

********

     Chameleon glanced up as Cassie came through the doors and started to
rise, but the medtech shook her head. He sank back down into his seat,
feeling deflated.  Yet, he wondered why he was surprised that his son
refused to talk to him.
     Cassie sat down next to him.  "Remember," she said softly.  "You
need to give him some time."
     "Yeah, I know."  Chameleon bit his lip, looking at the young blonde
woman out of the corner of his eye.  Her cheeks were flushed, and a
slight smile graced her lips.  He knew, then, that Starbuck had forgiven
her.  And for now, that was enough.

EPILOGUE

     "You sent for me, Father?"  
     Adama looked up front the data pad to meet his son's eyes.  "Yes. 
There are a couple of things I need to go over with you."  he motioned
for Apollo to have a seat, then he continued.  "I've reviewed the
maintenance report from the Sagittarius.  They determined the cause of
the explosion to be sabotage."
     "Sherok?"  asked the Captain.
     "Most likely," answered Adama.  Security confiscated illegal
materials from his quarters aboard the Sagittarius, including items that
could be used to make explosive devices."
     "Hmph."  Apollo frowned at the information, then nodded towards the
data pad in his father's hand.  "Is that the maintenance report?"
     "No, this is a different report."  Adama chewed his lip and Apollo
frowned, wondering what bad news it was this time - the Council?  More
maintenance reports?  The list was endless, it seemed.  "It's the medical
evaluation of Sherok," he said at last.
     "Oh?"
     "It would seem that Sherok suffers from a mental disorder that
generates delusions, among other things.  Before the Holocaust, he had
been institutionalized for a while and had lived with the aid of
medications.  However, since then, he has been on his own and has not had
any medication.  Thus,  through his delusional mind, he created and
organized the *Il Fadim,* finding enough weary, confused
people to actually have a small following.  The bottom line,"  Adama said
slowly, "is that he cannot be held accountable for his actions."
     "But--"  Apollo sat up straight in his chair.
     "We failed him.  With the proper medical treatment, he will able to
function normally and live a productive life.  And the recommendations to
Sire Solon will be just that - that he be given the needed treatment and
released, under supervised conditions."
     Apollo gave a low whistle.  "Starbuck may not like that bit of
news."
     "No, and I can't say that I do, either.  But still,"  Adama said,
his voice serious,  "he is but one example of why we need immediate and
drastic changes within the Fleet.  Or we'll have more unfortunate
incidents, such as this."
     The captain inhaled slowly.  "I see.  What's the status of the Fleet
census?"
     "Proceeding on schedule."  Adama gave a weary smile.  "It should be
completed within the secton."
     "Good, good..." Apollo gazed at his father.  "Was there something
else?"
     Adama stood and turned to stare out the portal into the star field. 
"Yes, there is," he said at length.  He turned to face Apollo.  "How
would you say Starbuck's doing?"
     "Well," said Apollo with a sigh, "he seems fine, now.  He's been
cleared for duty, with the only limitation being no strenuous activity -
including triad - for the next two sectons."
     "That's physically.  What about otherwise?  He went  through quite a
lot," Adama said, "and I trust your judgment more than some standard
psych eval."
     Apollo considered the question, then answered, "Really, he seems
fine, except . . "
     "Starbuck has not spoken with Chameleon yet, has he?"
     "No," replied the Captain.  "He's avoiding the issue.  And any time
one of us mentions it, he changes the subject."
     "I see."  Adama pursed his lips, thinking.  "I suspected as much." 
He frowned slightly but said nothing further.  

*************

     As soon as Corporal Komma stepped through the docking ring and onto
the Livestock Ship, the foul smell that he'd been anticipating hit his
nostrils with more intensity than he'd expected.  It took all of his
self-control to keep from making any kind of face, since he knew it
wouldn't look dignified.  He took his job in Colonial Security seriously,
and that meant maintaining the most professional demeanor at all times,
no matter what the assignment.
     Still, he thought, his unflappable air of resignation was probably
why he'd ended up assigned to carry out the mandated census aboard the
most unpopular ship in the entire Fleet.  He could just imagine his
colleagues like Castor, Lomas or Thomson finding any possible excuse to
avoid coming here, while he, the good little soldier who did everything
by the book, accepted the assignment ultimately.
     Maybe that's why I'm the paper-pusher, while guys like Castor end up
in Elite Squadron, he thought as he walked down the corridor toward the
passageway where the crews quarters were.  He came up to the first door
and with his datapad ready pressed the chime.  "Colonial Security, please
open up."
     He could hear a sudden rustling from the other side, but no
response.  In an instant, Komma felt a faint alarm go off, because that
kind of sound followed by silence could only mean that the announcement
of Colonial Security had for some reason struck a note of panic in
whoever was on the other side.
     He rapped on the door with his fist, "Open up, this is Colonial
Security!" he raised his voice slightly.
     A half-centon passed before the door finally opened.  Komma found
himself staring into the face of an overweight man with thinning hair,
but whose face suggested a man still in his late 20s.  He seemed
disheveled and visibly nervous.
     "Yeah?" he asked in a tone that didn't hide the inner anxiety.
     "I'm making the rounds for the recent census ordered by Commander
Adama," Komma said professionally but feeling his suspicions increasing. 
"I just need a few centons of your time."
     In an instant, the man relaxed.  "Oh...yes of course, please come
in."
     "Thank you," Komma nodded and entered the room.  He was surprised to
see that there was only one bunk which meant that this crewman had the
luxury of a private accomodation.  He was also surprised to see that
there were more furnishings than one might expect for a crewman assigned
to work on a ship such as this.
     Maybe they give out extra perks for Livestock Ship crewmen to get
their minds off the smell, he thought as he activated his datapad. 
"Could I have your name, please?"
     The man wiped at his mouth, "Um...Anglin."
     "Anglin," the Security Guard entered the name and for a brief
instant his eyebrows went up as he saw something that he was sure struck
a familar chord somewhere.  "Ah yes, you were initially logged in after
the Destruction aboard the Libran vessel Akrabi.  But...it looks like
we never bothered to get relevant personal background information.  So,
if you'll just answer a few questions, I can make sure our records are
updated."
     "Yeah," Anglin nodded and seated himself.  "Go ahead."
     It seemed obvious to Komma that the sooner he was gone, the happier
Anglin would be, and for reasons that went beyond the norm.
     "Your planet of birth?"
     "Caprica." he mumbled.
     "Age?"
     "29."
     "Any living relatives?"
     "No.  None."  He said abruptly.
     "Okay," Komma made another notation, not showing any interest in
Anglin's nervous reactions.  "How long have you been assigned to the
Livestock Ship?"
     "Since right after the Holocaust."
     "Enjoy the work?" he asked disarmingly.
     Anglin took a breath, "It's...a living."
     Komma did some more cross-checking, "Says here that you've received
commendations for doing extra duty when asked by Captain Dimitri.  How
come you didn't use those to request a promotion to get off this ship?"
     "Some of us get used to a...stable situation."  
     "You must have a pair of nostrils made out of tylinium to block out
the smell," Komma chuckled.  "Okay, I guess that should do it.  Thanks
for your time."
     "Of course," Anglin nodded, sounding relieved.  "Glad to have
helped."
     As soon as the door had closed behind him, Komma turned around and
looked back at the sealed door, feeling a deeper sense of suspicion rise
within him.  It was evident that this person Anglin had been jolted by
the presence of Colonial Security, as if he were afraid of being
discovered for something that could only get him into trouble.
     As he walked to the next compartment door and the next crewman to
interview, he had already decided that once he got back to the Galactica,
he planned to do some further investigation of this enigmatic person
named Anglin.
 
 *********

     Throughout the long ride back to the Senior Ship aboard the shuttle
Canaris, Chameleon felt the weight of his years like no other time in his
life.  As if a burden of guilt had now been placed on his shoulders that
would always be too heavy for him to remove.
     I guess I deserve it though, he thought sadly as the Canaris hooked
up to the Docking Ring and he stepped aboard the ship that was home to
him.  And now, what he dreaded most was returning to his quarters where
he'd have to tell Blassie everything.  And it would no doubt send Blassie
into one of those motherly modes of reproach that he'd always found
insufferable.  The only time he ever enjoyed Blassie's company was when
he could play the role of romantic charmer to her, but whenever there was
trouble for Chameleon, she instantly switched herself into a smothering
role of chaperone that made him want to avoid her completely.
     What he wished, was a chance to talk to someone else.  A total
stranger who wouldn't be burdened by attachments like Cassiopeia, or who
already had an impression of him like Blassie.
     "I beg your pardon!" 
     Chameleon shook himself out of his self-pitying thoughts and to his
embarrassment saw that he'd bumped into a woman walking down the corridor
in the other direction.  She was middle-aged with black hair that had a
few streaks of gray.
     "I'm terribly sorry," Chameleon bowed slightly, "My mind was
elsewhere."
     "I could tell," she said, "Is...something bothering you?"
     Chameleon looked at her thoughtfully and as he'd felt with Sheba
earlier, sensed an air of compassion that he could trust.  "As...a
matter of fact there is."
     "If you need someone to talk to, I'm available.  Providing counsel
is...well it is my job here."
     "You work here?" he lifted an eyebrow.  "I don't recall seeing you
aboard the ship before."
     "Well my work usually takes me to the lower decks with the infirmed. 
But...I think even those who obviously aren't infirmed like you can
sometimes use some counseling too."
     "Yes, I suppose we do," Chameleon found himself impressed by her. 
She had no patronizing air about her like Blassie did.  This woman was
clearly someone he'd feel comfortable talking to.  "Perhaps the Commisary
is open and you can...hear my story there?"
     "I'd like that," she said.  "What's your name?"
     "Chameleon."
     "I'm Claudia," she smiled.  "A pleasure to meet you, Chameleon."
     "Claudia...yes, I've heard of you.  You're the Guardian Angel for
the infirmed.  I should have known immediately.  Didn't you get some kind
of decoration recently?"
     "Yes, but...we don't need to talk about that," Claudia waved her
hand disarmingly.  "I think we can catch the next turbo-lift and talk
about...whatever's bothering you."
     As Chameleon followed Claudia to the lift, for the first time all
day he found himself feeling just a trifle better.  And he had a feeling
that when he was done talking to Claudia it would be more than a trifle.
 
 *********

     Back aboard the Galactica, Komma wasted no time getting to work on
following up his suspicion about the nervous Livestock Ship worker named
Anglin.  There was something that had stuck in the back of his mind all
day that he knew couldn't be resolved until he saw some of the records
aboard the Galactica, and if his hunch was right, he was sure he'd be on
the verge of finding a breakthrough.
     He sat in front of the master computer, and switched on the manual
control unit.  All users had the option of letting a computer voice
respond to vocal commands, but Komma had always detested that feature of
computer work, believing that the old ways were much more efficient.  He
typed in the name 'Dravius' and waited for the file to come up.
     In the initial phase of the investigation, which had taken place
just after the evacuation of the Spica, no records had been found for
anyone named Dravius.  But further investigation of the sanitation ship's
data tapes revealed that at the time of the Destruction, 82 passengers
had initially been logged aboard the Spica during her journey from
Virgon.  And then, over the course of the next sectar, an additional 30
passengers had been transferred from other ships to ease crowded
conditions and take advantage of converted space.
     Cross-check of the additional 30 had finally revealed the name
Dravius had initially logged himself under after the Destruction.  He had
given his name as Gacy and his planet of origin as Libra.  And more
importantly, this logging in had taken place aboard the Libran ship
Akrabi.  The same ship that the enigmatic Anglin had initially been
logged in on.
     Komma looked back at the results with a sense of satisfaction.  He'd
found a link that would certainly get a green light for further
investigation, but his by-the-numbers mind also knew that it wasn't yet
strong enough to get clearance for a search authorization of Anglin's
quarters.  As a civilian, Anglin had the protection of Council Security,
and he knew their unimaginative minds wouldn't accept this small link as
a basis for letting their rivals from Colonial Security conduct any kind
of search.
     So be it.  He would try to dig deeper until some more links became
evident.  And then, he, the so-called "paper-pusher" in Colonial
Security, just might be the one who ended up cracking the most baffling
mystery in the entire Fleet.

     Fleeing from the Cylon tyrany, the last battlestar, Galactica, leads
a ragtag fugitive Fleet on a lonely quest - a shining planet known as
Earth.