Battlestar Galactica: Nature's Fury
Virtual Second Season, Episode 15
By Eric Paddon
Epaddon@aol.com
January 3, 2006

               Battlestar Galactica: Nature's Fury

                    From The Adama Journals


     At long last, the day draws near for when Apollo and Sheba will
finally be sealed to each other.  Preparations are nearly complete for a
ceremony to take place in the Great Hall, where once before I joined
Apollo and Serina.  I had wondered if Apollo would be reluctant to have a
ceremony in the same place, in almost the same kind of ceremony, but he
has assured me he has no concerns about the past intruding on his hopes
for happiness with Sheba.  The confidence with which he speaks this, is
more than enough to tell me that he's completely sincere.
     Seeing this wedding date approach offers what I hope will be a much
needed time of respite for all of us.  Not simply for Apollo and Sheba,
who have the memory of their experience aboard Iblis's ship from Hades
itself, but for Starbuck as well.  Starbuck's recent experience with that
Ziklagi shape-shifter, which resulted in the death of Cadet Jada, shows
signs of taking an inner toll on him that I've never seen happen in all
the yahrens I've known him.  Hopefully the festive period we'll all be
enjoying on the wedding day help to allleviate some of the stress that
seems to be impacting him, and will him help him put the horrific events
behind him.
     And of course for myself, I will confess privately that after my own
terrible ordeal in which I nearly saw a ghost from the past threaten to
leave me incarcerated for a termination I was innocent of, the happiness
of officiating at my son's sealing ceremony is more than what I would
regard to be adequate compensation.
     But of course, the larger question that remains when the ceremony is
over, is whether we will at last enter a period of much needed long-term
stability.  It depends on whether or not the Cylons will continue to
remain the increasingly distant memory they've become.  And whether the
Ziklagi will now be something that takes the Cylons place as an enemy to
harass us on a constant basis.  And of course, whether things in my
relations with the Council will remain stable as they've been since Sire
Antipas received his secret pardon for his secret pre-Destruction
transgressions.  Antipas has been a bit more docile of late, as though he
seemingly knows he hasn't much leverage to wage any kind of fight with. 
But even as Antipas becomes more quiet, I've been noticing that wicked
glint I always could see in his eye now appearing in Siress Lydia's.  The
way she worked on Antipas's behalf, and the idle gossip that makes its
way back to me, tells me enough about what kind of relationship they're
having now.  What that means for the long-term is equally impossible to
discern.  If Lydia's just interested in her own romantic pleasures, then
so much the better, because that means she's less likely to be interested
in the matter of who leads the Fleet or not.
     With this day of sealing now soon upon us, it leaves me to consider
the joyful irony of myself and Cain, united by ties of marriage and Lord
willing, through common grandchildren one day.  It represents in a sense,
the end of a journey that began so many yahrens ago when Ila and I
invited Cain to see a play in Caprica City that marked the first major
role for an old primary school classmate of Ila's named Bethany.  Cain
ended up becoming totally smitten with her after seeing her in the play,
and before you knew it, he had married her.  Even though Cain never said
it directly to me over the yahrens, he always had a silent way of letting
me know how much he gave Ila and me credit for bringing him and Bethany
together.  So in that sense, it almost represents a coming of
full-circle, to see my son marry the only child of that marriage Ila and
I were both indirectly responsible for.  Or better still, perhaps it
represents another strange and wonderful example of how the hand of the
Almighty works in shaping all of our lives.  And how He will continue to
do so in everything else that lies ahead for all of us.

                         Chapter One

     The discomfort Sheba had been going through had lasted for more than
several centons, and seemed like an eternity to her.  Through it all,
she'd kept stoic, but as it continued to drag on, she was finally
reaching her breaking point.  When she felt the pinching sensation in her
side increase again, the breaking point finally came.
     "How much fracking longer is this going to take?"
     The white-haired man who had been on his knees tightly wrapping a
measuring tape around Sheba's waist looked up indignantly, "Lieutenant,
surely you realize the care and effort that goes in to preparing a
sealing gown as exquisite as yours is!"
     "Then try treating me with care and effort," she snapped, "For the
last five centons you've been digging that thing in all corners of my
body and I'm getting fed up with it."
     "You want this to be perfect, don't you?" the white-haired fitter
got to his feet, "A white sealing gown made from only the finest valcron
produced in the Colonies requires a little discomfort in the fitting
process, so the wearing of it can be perfect!"
     "Yeah, yeah," Sheba muttered and rolled her eyes, deciding it was
pointless to argue the matter any longer.  She caught a glance of herself
in the mirror and wondered how it was that a thing of such great beauty
as the gown she was now wearing, could cause so much discomfort and
trouble.  She had first ordered it up according to specifications she'd
provided the fitter that had been misread, and resulted in a gown that
had been far too tight when she had tried it on after its delivery to her
aboard the Galactica.  Now, she had gone all the way to the merchant ship
Pathmain to see the fitter personally and make sure the mistake wouldn't
be repeated.  Little realizing that it would require subjecting to her
the eccentric fitter's full-scale "treatment" whenever he had a subject
in person to work on.
     Ten centons later, she was back in her uniform and walking out of
the fitter's kiosk into the main atrium of the Pathmain, where Athena
waited.
     "Well?" her soon-to-be sister-in-law asked.
     "It's set, but boy what a giant pain in the astrum that whole
process was," Sheba said with visible disgust as they began to walk
amongst the two dozen odd people lining the atrium.  "The more I stood
there feeling his wrinkled fingers tightening that damn tape around me
and then almost sticking one of his pins in me when he was taking some of
it in, the more I wondered why in Hades was I even bothering with this."
     "Getting one's sealing gown right is never a matter to be taken
lightly.  So they say," Athena said.
     "You want to know something?" Sheba looked at her, "If I had my
druthers I'd just wear my uniform.  And I don't mean my dress uniform, I
mean just a nice comfy battle suit like I've got on right now."
     "I don't think the universe is ready for brides in a flight jacket
and combat boots," Athena said dryly, "If you did that, you'd never hear
the end of it from all the so-called etiquette experts."
     "Serve them right if I ticked them off," Sheba sighed, the annoyance
she'd felt now fading.  "I've never been much of a fashion plate anyway. 
Oh, it's not that I don't like to let loose and wear something civilian
now and then, it's just that I don't see the need to make such a big deal
about all the so-called procedures about what's in-style and what isn't,
and what you do or don't do with a certain wardrobe.  Heck, everytime I
go out with Apollo to some dinner on the Rising Star, I break the rule
that says you have to keep your hair swept up when you wear a formal gown
because it never made any sense to me."
     "Warriors seldom are fashion-conscious," Athena noted.  "Anyway,
while you were suffering your torture at the hands of the fitter, I
checked back with the decorator and everything's set on that front.  He's
even come through on having some real Caprican hibernias furnished, which
I know you were anxious to see."
     "I always saw myself having an outdoor wedding when I was a little
girl," Sheba smiled as they kept walking through the atrium and past the
numerous kiosks set-up throughout the ship.  The Pathmain was the largest
single merchant ship in the entire Fleet, representing the place where
the middle and lower classes could find an outlet for spending some of
their earnings which never would have been sufficient for any of the
luxuries to be found on the Rising Star.  "Having some real flowers is
about the closest way I can recapture that old wish.  Thanks for helping
out on that."
     "Hey, what's a joint maid-of-honor to do?" Athena smiled,
"Cassiopeia's been too swamped the last few cycles, especially after what
Starbuck went through, so it was my turn to pick up the slack a bit and
make sure everything stayed on schedule.  And now that you've got the
matter of your sealing gown straightened out, I guess you can say
everything's set."
     "Just about," Sheba's smile faded, "There's one other thing."
     Athena knew what she meant, "Bojay?"
     "Yes," she sighed, and then came to a stop as she focused on a kiosk
just ahead, where a distinctive shaped orange awning stood out like a
beacon to them..
     "I don't believe it!" Sheba exclaimed, "There's actually a Joho's on
this ship?"
     Athena looked ahead and her eyes widened, "I never noticed that
before.  Must be new!"
     "Then let's check it out," Sheba said as they headed toward the open
kiosk.  When they arrived, they could see a dozen people eating at
tables, and a large handwritten sign proudly proclaiming: "Joho's
Restaurant!  As good as you remember it.  The World of 28 Flavors of
Mushies lives!"  Underneath the sign was a distinctive signature, "Joho."
     Sheba looked over and then saw a slightly elderly, pudgy man making
his way from table to table, as if he were asking each patron whether
they were enjoying their meal or not and if everything was fine.
     "Joho!" she called over and waved.
     The proprietor looked up and his eyes widened in amazement, as he
came over to them, "Sheba!" he exclaimed as he suddenly embraced her
warmly, "Little Sheba, is that you?  I haven't seen you in ages!"
     "I know.  It has to be five yahrens at least."   She motioned to
Athena, "Athena, I want you to meet Johannes, the man responsible for the
greatest restaurant empire in the Colonies."
     "Pleased to meet you," he shook hands with Athena.
     "My goodness," the dark-haired lieutenant was amazed, "I never knew
there really was an actual Joho!  And you know Sheba?"
     "Her mother was one of my dearest friends," he smiled, "My first
restaurant was right across the street from the Caprican National
Theater, and because she preferred to eat at my place rather than some
overpriced fancy establishment after a show, she gave me the publicity I
needed to expand.  I owe whatever success I've had in my life to this
young lady's mother!"
     "Come on Joho.  You wouldn't have had 500 successful restaurants
throughout the Colonies if you didn't do something right yourself.  Good
food at a good price, and that little orange roof to make everyone
realize the instant they saw one of them, they could count on something
good."
     "It was, I admit, an effective advertising tool." he said with as
much modesty as he could.  "In the meantime, I invite you to have your
lunch as my personal guest at the best table I can offer."
     "When did you open this place?" Athena asked as he led them to a
more private table at the back of the restaurant area.  "I've never seen
it before on the Pathmain."
     "Just a couple sectans ago.  I wanted the grand re-opening of the
great Joho franchise to be done just right, so that's why I took my time
getting set-up again after the Destruction."
     "Well, you've got the authentic sign and awaning, but what about the
food?" Sheba smirked, "Can it still be the world of 28 different mushies
even in these kinds of Fleet conditions?"
     "Ah, well there you have me," Johannes shrugged sheepishly, "The
slogan lives, but truth be told, only about 14 flavors are possible at
this time.  But one day, I hope for that to change since I do still have
all the great recipes for 28 flavors carefully preserved.  All I need is
a sufficient supply of the right ingredients."
     "Never mind the mushies," Athena asked eagerly, "What about the
plate of fried sea clams?  That's what always defined a great Joho meal
to me!"
     "I'm faring better with that.  The aquatic life section of the
Livestock Ship is giving me a great bargain on sea clams because
mercifully, there is no great demand for them on the Rising Star."
     "Those rich snobs could never appreciate a really good meal."  Sheba
said, "You knew how to give the middle-class and the lower-class people
who went to the theater a more affordable outlet.  That's why you were a
success, Joho.  My mother was just among those who understood what it was
you were trying to do when you opened your first restaurant.  It's great
to see you're back in business."
     "And I intend for the whole franchise to continue long after I'm
gone," Johannes said boldly.  "In the meantime, what shall it be?  Fried
sea clams for you, Athena?"
     "Of course!" her eager tone rose.
     "And you Sheba," he looked over and smiled, "If you're still the
same as you were in all the yahrens I saw you grow up in front of me, I
shouldn't have to ask."
     "No," Sheba nodded, "You shouldn't."
     "Consider it done," the proprietor beamed as he walked toward the
back area where the kitchen was located.
     "It's incredible," Sheba looked about in amazement, "It's like
having a piece of home to see Joho operating a restaurant again.  I
couldn't begin to count all the times I ate at his first restaurant when
I was growing up."
     "Did you even know he was alive?"
     "No," she shook her head and then realized what Athena was getting
at.  "You're right, I should invite him to the wedding if he can make it. 
He was kind of like extended family."
     Athena's expression then grew serious, "If that's the case, maybe
you could find a way of taking care of your one remaining problem.  As
far as the ceremony is concerned."
     "What do you mean?"
     "I'm thinking about your problem regarding...Bojay."  She chose her
words carefully, "Maybe Joho could..." she let the rest of her thought go
unfinished.
     Sheba abruptly shook her head, "No.  No, I don't want to consider
that.  If I can't get Bojay to reconsider, I might as well just forget
the whole thing and have no stand-in at all for my father."
     "The codes..."
     "Hell with them," Sheba cut her off.  "If there isn't an appropriate
stand-in, you shouldn't have to bother with one.  That's how I feel. 
Bojay is the only person I could feel comfortable with standing in for my
father.  He's always been a true brother to me."
     "But he always wished it could be more than that?"  
     "Oh yeah," Sheba sighed.  "Yeah, he did."
     Joho then returned and set down two full glasses, "It's not the old
Joho cooler, but I hope you'll find it just as refreshing.  Your meal
will be ready in a few centons."
     "Thanks!" Sheba said brightly, and then as soon as the proprietor
had walked away, she lowered her voice, "Truth be told, Joho coolers were
the one thing about the menu I never liked.  He always should have stuck
to the regular chain distributed beverages like Capsi."
     "I agree with you on that," Athena smirked and took a sip of her
beverage.  "If Bojay was always interested in you, then...well why did
nothing ever happen?"
     "Timing," she sipped her own drink, "When Bojay transferred from the
Galactica and joined the Pegasus, I was going through a really bad
period.  My father had gotten over my mother's death by starting his
relationship with Cassiopeia, and...well let's just say that I wasn't
happy about it.  I was...more concerned about trying to repair my
relationship with my father at the time, and because that meant so much
to me, I just had zero interest in romance.  Bojay was someone I could
bond with in a way where there was nothing romantic about it at all to
me."
     "But deep down, did you know that he wanted it to be more?"
     "Actually, in those first yahrens we knew each other, I didn't think
he wanted it to be that way.  He just never offered any kind of hint that
he wanted something more, and always seemed so comfortable and at ease in
our brother-sister type relationship.  He wasn't like some of the other
pilots I knew on the Pegasus who did have crushes on me, and didn't do a
good job of hiding it.  I guess...it was the sort of feeling he developed
over time.  The kind of feeling that came out of our working so closely
together over a period of several yahrens."
     "Something you never did."
     Sheba sighed, "After three yahrens, Bojay was so much like a brother
to me that the idea of having any other kind of relationship with him
would have almost felt...well you know."
     "Yeah," Athena admitted.  "I know what you mean.  I guess men have
an easier time overcoming that sensation with a woman then vice versa.. 
But for goodness sake, even if Bojay had those feelings, why should he be
so jealous and not do you a favor?  He certainly understands how you feel
about Apollo."
     "Bojay insisted he's not trying to be jealous or hurtful in turning
my offer down to be stand-in," Sheba sipped some more of her drink, "He
wishes me the best, and he wants to be at the wedding.  He only feels
that his pride dictates that he not take such a prominent role in the
ceremony.  Oh, that isn't how he put it, but I know that's what it comes
down to with him."
     Athena leaned back in her chair, "Sheba, if Bojay wants to be that
petty about the whole thing, then maybe you just have to ask yourself if
you're better off looking to someone else."
     "There isn't anyone else who can do this, unless my father were to
show up between now and the wedding," her tone was final, "So if Bojay
doesn't do it, then we rewrite the ceremony and eliminate the whole
business about a protector giving away the bride.  If that doesn't uphold
the fine print of the sealing codes, well then maybe the next Holy
Council meeting should think about having all that changed.  My wedding
is going to be done on my terms only."
     Athena decided she needed to change the subject to keep the
conversation pleasant, "Except when it comes to your wishing you could
wear combat dress to the wedding."
     Her remark had its intended effect and Sheba smiled, "Well put. 
Besides, if I decided to to do that at the last micron, you and
Cassiopeia and every other woman who's invited to the wedding and gotten
their own gowns ready for the occasion would want me flogged."
     "Metaphorically," her soon to be sister-in-law laughed.  
     Joho then returned, proudly carrying two plates.  "Fried sea clams,
made the Joho way," he said as he placed one before Athena, "And for you,
Sheba, the grilled wrapped red hot.  Just as you always ordered so many
times when you were little."
     Sheba smiled and picked it up.  The long tubular shaped meat tucked
inside a toasted roll made her close her eyes and think back to so many
nights in her childhood when her mother would take her to the Joho's
across from the Caprican National Theater after finishing a performance. 
Her eyes were still closed when she bit into it...and in an instant she
found the happy illusion of the past dissipating.  No matter how much
Joho tried, she had to admit that he was never in these limited
conditions of the Fleet, going to be able to perfectly reproduce the
taste of a quintessential Joho Red Hot.
     "Well?" the proprietor asked anxiously.
     Sheba managed to keep smiling as she swallowed, "Joho, you're to be
commended for what you've done," she said.  
     "A little taste of the past is what I try to bring those who come
here," he said proudly as he walked away to wait on several new
customers.
     "The taste is where he came up short," Sheba sighed as soon as he
was out of earshot.  "Did he get the clams right at least?"
     Athena took a few munches of the heavily breaded seafood and nodded,
"Yes, he did.  They're perfect.  I think the key though is the frying
process, and not the sea clams themself."
     "Probably right.  His recipe in the breading is where most of the
taste would come from." she decided to keep eating to avoid hurting the
proprietor's feelings.  "Anyway, when Bojay gets back from deep patrol, I
hope I can make one last attempt to change his mind.  If he'd just say
yes, then I know this is going to be the most perfect wedding I could ask
for."
     "And if he doesn't, then just be glad you've still got Apollo
anyway." Athena smiled.  "That's all that really counts, doesn't it?"
     Sheba nodded warmly, "Quite true."


     Unbeknownst to Sheba though, Bojay was already back from his deep
patrol assignment, much sooner than he'd planned.  And the reason for
that, now found him in Adama's office excitedly explaining to the
Commander what he'd found.
     "You can see for yourself on the telemetry tapes," Silver Spar
leader said.  "This planet in Tau sector nine has more natural resources
to meet our needs for who knows how many yahrens if we mine them just
right."
     Adama kept his hand on his chin as he went over the data on his
monitor.  "Atmosphere check perfect.  High concentrations of livestock,
edible vegetation and deposits of tylium and solium in adjacent areas."
he shook his head, "At this rate, Bojay, this almost sounds like a planet
some people would say we should settle the Fleet on!"
     "Well, they'd reconsider that once they see all of the telemetry
data," Bojay said, "You see all of these resources that would be helpful
to us are concentrated in exactly one section of the planet.  The
north-central hemisphere encompassing a region no bigger than
nine-hundred kilometrones.  The rest of the planet is...well you can see
for yourself."
     Adama squinted as he took a closer look at the screen.  He saw a
planet in which angry, swirling clouds of white seemed to rotate in a
counter-clockwise fashion over nearly the entire surface.  Save for the
one area of untouched greenery he'd just been focused on a micron before.
     "Good Lord," he said, "There must be storm systems covering the rest
of the planet."
     "Some of the most intense gale-force storms you could ever come up
against.  Readings indicate a magnitude of force nine on our known scales
for just about all of them."
     "All with the potential for near catastrophic damage," he nodded,
"Definitely not a place to settle our people, no matter what some naive
opportunist might think.  But given those conditions, would it be safe to
try and harness any of the resources in the unaffected area?"
     "Well Commander, the readings I take indicate that this area is so
fertile and prosperous, then that can only mean that it hasn't been
afflicted by any of these turbulent weather patterns over the rest of the
planet.  That means, we should send in as many of our storage tankers and
supply shuttles as we possibly can and pick this planet clean of what we
need.  It's an opportunity we just can't pass up!"
     "It certainly is an interesting...opportunity that's been presented
us," Adama refused to let himself get carried away at this point.  That
had never been his nature, and he wasn't about to change now. 
"Still...if something were to go wrong, the results could be dangerous
for anyone caught on the ground.  Those weather patterns are more ominous
looking than any others I've ever seen."    He looked back at Bojay,
"Since your deep patrol scouted this planet, you would be the obvious
pick to command an expeditonary team.  Would you feel up to that
challenge?"
     "With pleasure, sir," Bojay said proudly.
     "Very well.  You'll command a team of scientific specialists,
augmented by several members from Colonial Security.  Full scientific
sweep, reading of samples and field analysis. If the results are as
promising as your viper patrol scan indicates, then I want cargo ships
ready to move in the instant your team gets back."
     "I'll make sure we're fast, but thorough," Silver Spar leader was
feeling an intense wave of satisfaction that Adama was instinctively
picking him for this mission, and not passing it off to someone like
Apollo or Boomer instead.  He had always wondered if Adama sometimes had
a tendency to play favorites among the warriors, but this was certainly
enough to dispel that thought for all time.  "By your leave, sir?"
     "Dismissed."
     Bojay briskly saluted and left.  Leaving Adama to look back at the
data and wonder if there was cause to really feel optimistic about things
in general for the first time in a long while.


     Bojay wasted little time heading for the Operations Center that
would give him access to the Galactica's Central Computer system, and
program the necessary selections for his expeditionary team.  When he
arrived, he found an empty room of computer banks with Corporal Komma of
Colonial Security standing vigil.  It was Komma's job to process all
those who wanted access to the sensitive computer systems, where anyone
could learn anything about any person in the Fleet.
     "Morning, Captain," Komma said pleasantly, "Just place your hand on
the scanner, and I can let you get to work."
     "Thanks," Bojay said, feeling too keyed up to make some kind of
witticism about how silly the whole handprint screening process was.  He
made his way over to one of the computer tables and picked up the
microphone that would allow him to talk to the central process unit,
known by the acronym CAP, which stood for Computer Analysis of Personnel.
     "CAP, this is Captain Bojay of Silver Spar Squadron, beginning
procedure for selection of expeditionary team for planet survey."
     "Logged in, Captain," a soft feminine voice replied that Bojay had
to admit, always sounded intriguing, but which he'd heard Komma complain
about endlessly in the past as something that could drive a person crazy. 
He always wondered if a live person had done the prototype for this
voice, or whether it had been totally constructed by computer, but never
felt he'd have the nerve to find out what the correct answer really was.
     "Planet expedition to consist of four members of Colonial Security;
one med-tech; two agro-specialists, one each in plant and livestock
fields; one mineral specialist; one mining  engineer."
     "Scanning Fleet personnel records to correlate appropriate
selections for mission."
     Komma looked over in amused interest from his duty station. 
"There's actually a bona-fide planet survey mission for Colonial Security
men?  Boy, talk about a throwback to the old days!"
     "Never had your fill of many back then, Komma?" Bojay leaned back as
he waited for CAP to do her work and print out the results.
     "Not a one," the guard shook his head.  "Join Colonial Security and
see the universe, they used to say.  Colonial Security guards are needed
to conduct planetary surveys while warriors do the flying.  Well, I never
got to take my first survey before the Destruction, so that means I've
spent my whole career as a duty-bound paper pusher.  Not that I mind it."
     "I guess you don't.  You could have joined Elite Squadron like
Castor did."
     "Castor is more inclined to do those kinds of things.  That's why he
now heads our division," Komma smiled.  "It hasn't been without interest
to do this kind of work, though.  I didn't mind doing the leg work that
helped bring down that fugitive Dravius a while back and got all those
stolen Libran artifacts recovered."
     "I heard about that.  Must have been an interesting case."
     "Yeah," Komma didn't mention that there had been one frustrating
thing about the whole thing.  After word had come down of Dravius's
death, he'd been told by his superior, Castor, that full information on
how the entire incident had resolved itself, would not be possible, and
that he couldn't ask any more questions about it.  It had especially
struck Komma as odd that full pardon had been given by Adama to one of
the other men involved in the theft, Anglin.  But then again, he knew
Adama had to have his reasons for keeping certain matters secret.  As
official recorder during a secret tribunal several sectars ago, he was
one of only four people in the rest of the Fleet who knew the ultimate
fate of Baltar's wife, and he'd been sworn to secrecy regarding that for
reasons that he intended to respect for the rest of his life if he had
to.  He might wonder about certain things he didn't know at times, and
even be a bit frustrated by them, but one thing he was never going to do
was let his curiosity get the better of him in matters that didn't
concern him.
     "Team now selected for expeditionary mission, based on
qualifications listed in Fleet data base.  Results being printed now."
     Bojay turned back to the terminal and saw the names come up on the
screen.  He squinted slightly and then leaned forward to read the names
more carefully, and then he reached down to the tray to retrieve the
paper printout.
     "Komma," he looked over and said slyly, "Today's your lucky day."
     The Security Guard's eyes narrowed in disbelief.  "Holy Frack," was
all he could say.


     After leaving the stunned Komma to collect his thoughts, Bojay
pocketed the sheet listing the other members of the team in his jacket
pocket, and headed to the Life Station, where he'd be telling Med-Tech
Nestor that he'd been selected for the team.  As he neared the
turbo-lift, he saw the doors open and Apollo step off.  Immediately, he
winced inside since Apollo was one of two people he didn't want to talk
to right now.
     "Hey, Bojay," Apollo was mildly surprised to see him, but clearly
glad as well, "You got a micron?"
     He realized that there was no way he could avoid talking to Apollo,
so long as the captain stood between him and the turbo lift.  He decided
he'd indulge him.  Briefly.
     "Sure," Bojay said, "But not too long.  Have you seen the
commander?"
     "Yes, I just came from there, and he told me you'd be heading this
up," Apollo said.  "Since this is going to take up all of your time over
the next few cycles at least, then this is probably the only chance I'll
get to ask you this, so..."
     "Apollo," Silver Spar Leader cut him off, "Don't.  I know what
you're going to ask, and I know you mean well, and I know Sheba means
well, but I really can't accept.  Please understand."
     "Actually, I don't understand," Apollo fudged the truth.  Sheba had
told him the real reason, but he wasn't going to let on about that,
because it was the kind of reason that struck Apollo as petty in the
extreme and hurtful to Sheba, "Sheba regards you as a brother.  There
isn't anyone else in this Fleet she has that kind of love for, and that
makes you the only man who can honorably stand-in for her father.  And
all it requires of you is to say one sentence in response to a question
from Adama as he presides, and nothing more.  Why can't you be willing to
give just that much of yourself for someone who means that much to you?"
     "Apollo, you're out of line," Bojay kept his tone quiet.  The last
thing he needed was to feel angry at an important time like this.  "I
have my reasons, and they're personal.  I'm going to be at the wedding,
so don't treat it like such a big deal."
     "I have to when Sheba doesn't have anyone else she can ask to do
this," Apollo held his ground, "Your not doing this can really end up
making her feel bad.  Is that what you want to do, after all the yahrens
you've known each other?"
     "Why should it matter, Apollo?  You've won, isn't that all that
counts?"  
     The words had come rapidly from Bojay without any chance for him to
think about what he was saying.  Abruptly, he looked down at the floor in
embarrassment, while Apollo said nothing.
     "I'm sorry," Bojay said quietly, "That was terrible of me.  Apollo,
look...I'm happy for the both of you.  Don't ever think I don't feel that
way, it's just..." he forced himself to look at the captain.  "Apollo,
it's one thing for me to be at her wedding and clap for her with everyone
else.  But to stand front and center and say the words that represent
giving her away so she can be formally presented for a marriage
contract...I'm sorry.  That's too much for me to handle.  I'm not going
to be a problem in how I act after you're married.  I would never think
of doing that.  But...Apollo, this is just a matter of pride and ego, and
maybe it's foolish pride and foolish ego, but...it'd really be better if
we just let it go.  Okay?"
     Apollo looked at him with a neutral expression, "If I let it go, it
doesn't change the fact that it's a disappointment that you feel that
way, Bojay," he said, "But...I'll agree to not let there be any lasting
repercussions about it."
     "That's fair enough," Bojay said, "Look...I really have some
important work to do."
     "I know," Apollo extended his hand, "Good luck with the mission."
     With just the slightest hesitation, Bojay reciprocated the
traditional warrior's handshake.  And then, with both of them feeling
regret and disappointment, they parted company by moving off in opposite
directions.  

                    Chapter Two

     "You're all here, because the computer says you're the most
qualified and capable group for handling this survey mission," Bojay said
as he paced back and forth in front of his seated audience in the Flight
Operations Center.  "Never mind if some of you haven't done this sort of
thing in a long while or never at all.  It's ultimately a simple case of
putting your skills that you've all been trained for to good use.  And
one of those features means being able to respond and react to conditions
from an alien environment and make a quick compatability check with what
we're used to.  That's ultimately what's at stake on this mission,
because if we can find quick compatibility matches for the resources that
are indicated on this planet, we may end up solving all of the Fleet's
potential shortage troubles in food and fuel for yahrens to come.  Now
that I've gotten that preliminary stuff out of the way, does anyone have
any questions?"
     He saw none from the seven men and two women in the group that had
assembled.  To one side, the four Colonial Security guards, consisting of
Komma, Sergeant Lepus, Sergeant Thomson and Corporal Jacob.  In the
middle, med-tech Nestor was flanked to his left by the mining expert,
Clement and the red-haired mineralologist, Demos.  On the opposite side
were the two women, both of whom he noted were the designated
agro-specialists.  The striking brunette, Gayla, and the even more
striking red-haired woman named Pili.
     "Okay, your data pads all have the telemetry from my viper patrol on
what this planet has.  Review them thoroughly during the flight there. 
All of you are to assemble in Alpha Deck with full gear in no more than
fifteen centons from now.  Dismissed."
     They rose and began to file their way out.  Bojay noticed that
Corporal Komma was among those slow to leave, as if he were still
seemingly lost in a sea of disbelief.  Also lingering was the red-haired
woman Pili, who seemed a bit overwhelmed by her surroundings.
     "Can I help you with anything?" Bojay asked as he came up to her.
     She hesitated for an instant, "No!  I...sor-ry, I...not used to this
ship."   her words were tentative and halting, as if Colonial Standard
weren't her native tounge.
     "Oh, first time aboard the Galactica?" Silver Spar Leader said
disarmingly, "Don't worry.  If you're used to the Agro and Livestock
ships, it's easy to adjust here after a bit.  Of course, there won't be
much time for that since we do need to assemble in the Launch Bay.  You
know where to get your equipment?"
     "E-quip-ment.  Yes.  Yes, I know.  Might need help in using it."
     Bojay's curiosity deepened, "Pardon me for asking a personal
question, but where do you come from?"
     "Come from," she repeated and then smiled, "Oh yes!  I come...not
from Colonies but from planet Ki.  I came aboard with my...husband,
Kudur-Mabug.  We work together on Livestock Ship now...after train-ing
first on Agro-Ship."
     Silver Spar Leader's eyes narrowed, "Wait a micron.  You're the one
that Boomer brought aboard?"
     "Yes!" she smiled brightly, "Boom-er!  Very good friend of mine and
Kudur-Mabug.  He and Athena...helped teach us Colonial language.  I...not
speak perfect, but...understand all.  Easier to...under-stand, than
speak!"
     "Of course," Bojay nodded, wondering if this was going to present a
problem.  The last thing he ever would have expected the computer to do
was pick someone who up to a few sectars ago was living the life of a
primitive cave dweller on a planet filled with all kinds of strange
animal life.  True, she obviously had greater familiarity with what would
be considered an alien kind of topography to most Colonials, and a
greater instinct for how to adapt plant and animal life for daily use
than civilized Colonials might, but still.  And even more puzzling was
why the computer would only have picked her, and not her husband, of whom
he'd heard Boomer describe as a formidable hunter.
     "Look," Bojay said, "You'd better get going.  Just remember to be in
the Launch Bay in fifteen centons."
     "Yes," she nodded and smiled brightly, "I...under-stand!  I look
forward to doing great work!"
     And then, she gave an awkward version of a salute and then left the
room.  Bojay rolled his eyes in amazement and then hurriedly went over to
the telecom unit on the wall, where he patched in the access number to
the Agro Ship.  "Hello, this is Captain Bojay of Silver Spar Squadron. 
Urgent that I speak to Operations Chief Carmichael, immediately."
     He waited a half centon before he heard Carmichael's voice come on,
"Yes, Captain?"
     "Carmichael, I need you to tell me what you know about an agro and
livestock tech worker named Pili."
     "Ah yes," Carmichael said dryly, "The Livestock Ship ops chief
telecommed me a centar ago about that, because he couldn't believe it
either.  But in spite of our mutual disbelief on that subject, Captain,
you're getting a very bright and capable worker who more than makes up
for her deficiencies in speaking coherently with a pretty sharp instinct
for inventorying and cataloging plant and animal life species."
     "Really?"
     "Yes.  I mean, when she and her...I guess you could call him her
husband, Kudur-Mabug, came to us, I had her working in pharmacology
because she knew how to adapt the native plant life of Ki to medicinal
purposes.  She ended up finishing that inventory completely last sectar,
and she and her husband had by then mastered all of the Colonial language
to get by, so I felt it was safe to transfer them both to the Livestock
ship.  They've been giving our research specialists there some insight
into the adaptability of alien animal species to the human diet based on
their own experiences on Ki, and the differences in their livestock from
our own."
     "I see," Bojay nodded.  "That explains why the computer picked her
as a livestock specialist for this.  All of us know instinctively what
kind of animals are fit for human consumption, but her perspective as a
native of Ki could make us pick up on something we might otherwise miss
at first glance if she sees something that we might not think is edible,
but which her people did."
     "Which could mean the difference in a lot more available food for
our people," Carmichael added.  "Just...try to ignore her problems
speaking Colonial Standard.  She understands everything perfect and isn't
a problem there.  She's certainly more advanced in that area than her
husband, who's a bit more reluctant to embrace all aspects of being
Colonial."
     "Which explains why the computer left him behind, no doubt.  Well, I
guess if you're willing to give her a vote of confidence on this, I
shouldn't let her presence worry me.  Thanks, Carmichael."
     "One other thing," the Operations Chief noted dryly, "You've also
noticed how beautiful she is, I take."
     "Hard not to notice.  But I'll make sure the men in my team get the
clear message that she's married."
     "And mention that her husband spent most of his life ripping the
limbs off defenseless animals before he came to us," he added with a
chuckle.  "That'll stop them."
     "Will do," Bojay felt relaxed now as he hung up, and then shook his
head in amusement before heading off to pick up his Equipment for the
mission.


     Bojay arrived fifteen centons later in Alpha Bay where a shuttle
waited.  He stepped aboard and saw that the members of the team were all
strapped in with their equipment packs at their feet.  Sergeant Lepus, as
the senior Security Guard, and one who was shuttle flight-trained,
occupied the co-pilot seat.
     "All secure and ready to go, sir," Lepus said.
     "Thank you, Sergeant," Bojay said as he settled himself in the
pilot's seat and then activated the switch that closed the door.  After
fastening his harness, he then donned his headset and keyed in the
channel to the Bridge.  "Galactica Core Control, this is Alpha shuttle. 
Request clearance to launch."
     "Alpha shuttle from Core Command, you are clear to launch," Rigel's
voice answered in his headset.
     Does she ever cut loose and have a good time?  Bojay idly wondered. 
That professional efficient voice of Rigel was the only thing about the
attractive bridge officer that he knew anything about.  "Affirmative,
Core Commad.  We are on our way."
     And then he powered up the systems and the shuttle roared to life,
exiting the landing bay and beginning its journey to the nearby planet.


     On the Bridge, Rigel watched the indicator lights go green, whic
meant that the shuttle had safely cleared the Galactica and was on its
way.  With no other launch traffic to deal with, she removed her headset
and went back to monitoring the level of communications traffic among the
ships in the Fleet.  
     She felt a lock of her nearly waist-length brown hair get in her eye
and she reached over to brush it aside.  As she did, the corner of her
eye suddenly noticed Omega, seated not too far away hastily turning his
head away as if he'd been watching her when he'd thought she wasn't
looking in his direction.  She could immediately see his face flushing
the tiniest shade of red.
     Omega, Rigel thought wistfully.  If you want to ask me out again,
ask.  The answer's always going to be yes.  But it had been more than
four sectars since her fellow Bridge Officer had last summoned the nerve
to ask her out, and ever since, it seemed like Omega's innate shyness had
kicked in more than ever.  Forming an almost impenetrable barrier between
them.
     Rigel knew that some women would have suggested she start playing a
more aggressive role if she were genuinely interested in Omega, and he
was too shy to make the next move.  But that was one course of action she
felt she had to avoid for now.  Not because she thought that was the way
things had to be done, with the male always making the first move, but
rather, a belief that for someone like Omega, who was so painfully
insecure about taking a bold step, getting aggressive with him in a
sudden way might be a little too much for him to take.  Perhaps to the
point where her being aggressive might serve to make him only more
intimidated and withdrawn.
     Besides, she also felt that if Omega was the special kind of man she
felt he was, someone she really wanted to get to know better, then the
best way he could demonstrate that would be to overcome his own feelings
of inadequacy and insecurity, and find the courage to come over and ask.
     You've got to make the move, Omega, she thought as she went back to
her work without looking in his direction, and wondering if he was trying
to sneak a look at her again.  I'll be patient with you for now, and wait
for as long as I can to give you a chance.  But it won't be forever. 
Just realize that.


     "About how long on the ETA to the planet?" Sergeant Lepus inquired
as Bojay engaged the automatic heading.
     "Well, allowing for how much the Fleet has narrowed the distance
since I scanned her on deep patrol, give it about fifty centons."
     "Sure sounds strange to me," the Security Guard shook his head, "A
planet with just one tiny spot that's flourishing while the rest is
affected by crazy weather.  What could cause something like that?"
     "Who knows?" the captain shrugged.  "I'm pretty much past the point
where I think there has to be a logical way for how things are on all the
planets in the universe.  When you've got an infinite number to pick
from, you're bound to sooner or later come up with one like this appears
to be."
     "I guess so," Lepus admitted, "And to think here we are, trying to
just find one particular planet amongst that infinite number."
     "Yeah," Bojay nodded, as he pondered the magnitude of the sergeant's
remark, and suddenly it made him feel almost overwhelmed.
     "Captain?" Lepus asked, "Truthfully, do you think any of us who are
alive today, I mean our generation, will live to see Earth?"
     "If any of us knew the anser to that, Lepus, we'd all be able to
sleep a lot easier at night.  I honestly don't know, one way or the
other.  And I really try not to think about it much."
     "I hate to say it, but it's on my mind a lot," he looked ahead at
the starry expanse, "I had some ancestors who made pretty big names for
themselves on Taurus.  I always hoped that after my hitch in the Service
was up, I'd be able to strike it out on my own and live up to their
accomplishments.  And then the Destruction happened, and next thing I
knew my hitch had become permanent.  And I keep wondering if that's going
to be my cursed fate in life, to just die in space before a
multi-generation journey ever comes to an end."
     Bojay glanced over at him, "No one forces you to stay in the
Service, Lepus.  If you want to do something else in life, you're free to
do that."
     "Pretty limited bunch of choices, and none of them the kind I was
planning to do," the sergeant grunted, "That's why I keep staying on.  At
least being in the Service provides some...stability for now."  He shook
his head again, "But it's not the life I'd planned for."
     "That's true of all of us, Sergeant," Bojay said, wishing Lepus
would get off this subject soon before he had to politely ask the
sergeant to change the subject, "All of us have regrets in life, but we
just...move on."
     Yeah, how true that is, the captain thought to himself.  And Apollo
just had to remind me again about what my biggest regret in life is
always going to be.  And it's going to haunt me forever because I can't
think of any other woman I'd ever want to have loved.
     Sheba, he thought sadly, Sheba, why didn't you give me a chance to
tell you how much I've always loved you?
     He glanced over at Lepus and saw that the sergeant was still staring
ahead, clearly lost in his own thoughts.  Which only meant that Bojay
could lean back in his chair and think back to a time three yahrens ago,
when he'd arrived as a new transfer from the Galactica  to the Pegasus... 



     ...The first thing Lieutenant Bojay noticed when he stepped off the
shuttle was how he could tell immediately that the Pegasus was a much
older ship than the Galactica.  The Pegasus landing bay had a much more
scarred, battleworn quality in contrast to the ordered cleanliness of the
Galactica's.  Even the ships, whether shuttles or vipers, seemed to have
a more weatherbeaten look to them, as if they were used to going through
the rigors of constant combat.
     What could you expect though from a ship run by Cain?  He thought. 
Cain's known for enjoying this sort of thing.  The battleworn look for
his ship suits his reputation just fine.
     "Lieutenant Bojay?"
     He looked over and saw a tall, brown-haired man in a blue Bridge
Uniform approaching him.
     "Sir."
     "Colonel Tolen, Executive Officer.  Welcome aboard the Pegasus."
     Bojay hadn't realized the man was that important.  There was nothing
in Tolen's bearing or walk to suggest his position.  He dropped his pack
and hastily saluted.  "Yes sir!  Sorry, sir."
     "At ease," Tolen said, "I'll escort you to Commander Cain's
quarters.  Follow me, please."
     The fact that the executive officer would use the term 'please' to a
subordinate told Bojay a lot.  Tolen was clearly not the kind of
executive officer with great ambitions of command, or else he'd be
emulating Cain's style.  If his hunch was right, Tolen was the kind of
quiet deferential second-in-command, whose function was to carry out
orders and not offer any challenges to his commander at any time.
     He followed the executive officer to the turbo lift.  They went up
several levels and stepped out into the corridor, passing other warriors
along the way.  From time to time, he spotted some wearing pilot's
insignias and made a mental note to remember their faces for later.  But
for now, his chief thoughts were about meeting Cain for the first time. 
And whether he'd be able to maintain an even composure in the presence of
a man regarded as a Living Legend, or whether he'd find himself
intimidated completely.
     Dear Lord, don't let that happen, he thought.  If Cain comes away
unimpressed by me, he'll send me on the next shuttle back to the
Galactica, which is the last thing I want!
     Finally, Tolen came to a stop in front of a door and sounded the
chime.  From inside, a deep voice said, "Enter."
     The door slid open and Tolen stepped in first.  The room was not too
well-lit, as though the main lights had been kept off, and the only light
coming from the stars outside the porthole at the back.
     "The new transfer from the Galactica has arrived, sir.  Lieutenant
Bojay."
     "Thank you, Tolen.  I'll attend to him.  Dismissed."
     The executive officer nodded and left the room, leaving Bojay alone
in the shadows, unable to see where the great voice was coming from. 
Finally, he saw a shadow move at the back of the room, and then could see
him, but only in silhouette, his face still hidden.
     "So, Lieutenant," the voice of the man known as the Juggernaut said
casually, "Is the Pegasus what you expected her to be like?"
     "Well, truthfully sir, I haven't seen much since my arrival, but I
haven't been surprised so far."  Bojay felt relieved that his voice
hadn't cracked from the nervous tension inside, but he could still feel
his feet shaking inside his boots and he prayed that the Commander
wouldn't look down and notice.
     "You've done your share of reading about what we've gone through,
haven't you?"
     "Yes sir."
     "Well, if you have, then you should manage fine.  The press is known
to exaggerate about a lot of things, Lieuteanant, but when it comes to me
and what this grand old dame has done, it's always the absolute truth no
matter how fantastic it sounds."
     He now stepped out of the shadow so Bojay could see his face.  The
firm iron jaw was softened by a friendly smile.  Immediately, Bojay was
impressed by how Cain, unlike Adama, preferred to wear a warrior's
uniform instead of the formal blue command uniform.  To Bojay, that was a
sign of how Cain was able to identify with the fighting men in his
command.
     "Tell me something, Lieutenant," Cain said, "Why did you put in for
a transfer from the Galactica?"
     Bojay stiffened slightly.  He hadn't expected this kind of question,
and it was one he'd been hoping wouldn't come up.
     "Sir, I really don't think I should-----,"
     "Ah, ah," the Juggernaut held up a hand, "No beating around the
bush, Lieutenant.  One thing I always insist on is a simple cutting
through of all the felgercarb, and getting to the heart of the matter. 
You asked for a transfer off a ship commanded by a man I regard as a
close and dear friend, whose tactics and style may be different from
mine, but who I know always treats his warriors well.  Why did you want
to leave that and come here?"
     Bojay uneasily sighed, "Well sir, it's no reflection on Commander
Adama.  I think his record speaks for itself and anyone who serves under
him should feel privileged to do so."
     "Then what wasn't making it a privilege for you, Lieutenant?"  Cain
sat on the edge of his desk, his arms folded, and his swagger stick
protruding across his knee.  "It isn't often that a pilot transfers off a
ship, unless he's been given a high promotion, which isn't so in your
case."
     Bojay summoned all his internal strength, "It was incompatibility,
sir." he said rapidly and strongly.
     The Juggernaut glanced at him with curiosity, "Incompatability?"
     "Yes sir, you see, it's not that I didn't get along with the men I
served with in my squadron, it's just that...well I always felt kind of
frozen out by them.  Not a part of their...clique if you will.  I
just...kind of felt that my personality didn't blend well ultimately with
theirs."
     "Well how would you define your personality, Lieutenant?" Cain
quietly but forcefully demanded.  "If I were asking you to define
yourself, how would you do it?"
     The nervous tension was fast coming back to Bojay, "Well sir,
I...would say I tend to be a bit more quiet.  I...wasn't much for small
talk or Pyramid games with my squadron, and...I tended not to appreciate
the practical jokes that would get pulled."
     "In other words, you see yourself as the kind of person who would
rather spend off-duty hours in your bunk reading, is that it?"
     "Well, maybe not reading, but...I do tend to be a bit more solitaire
when it comes to those things.  Like I say, it's not that I have a
problem with how they did things, it's just that... I figured my
personality would be better suited for this ship."
     "What gave you that idea, Lieutenant?" Cain dropped the tone of his
voice a bit more, but it served to have a more devastating effect.
     "Well..." Bojay found himself fishing for words, and could also feel
the sweat breaking out all over him, "I thought...that since the Pegasus
tends to be more active in the major front-line missions, that there'd be
less room for that kind of...well, attitude that's more at home on a
place like the Galactica."
     Cain slowly nodded his head, a faint smile etching the corner of his
lips.  For just an instant, Bojay began to relax, but suddenly the
Juggernaut drew to within a foot of the lieutenant, and spoke in a cold
whisper.
     "Get this straight, Lieutenant," he said, "If you're the kind of
person who gets his kicks out of spending quiet time only away from the
job by yourself, then you should have become an archivist spending lonely
centars in an empty room.  If you want to *really* be a damned good
warrior, and measure up to the standards I insist on for all the warriors
in my command, then you are going to turn over a new leaf and not let me
down the way you let my friend Adama down.  That means you're going to
change your ways, Lieutenant.  You're going to mix it up with the members
of your squadron and enjoy their company.  You're going to spend as much
time as you can with them, and if it means being a victim of an
occasional practical joke, well so be it.  If you show you're willing to
do all of that, then it tells everyone else that you regard yourself as
part of the team, and that is what a unit of great pilots is,
Lieuteanant, a team that knows the meaning of how to work together and do
what's expected of them in a difficult situation, which believe me you're
going to find yourself thrust into more times than you could ever have
imagined.  And if you don't show me within the next sectar that you're
getting with the program, then I'm not going to hesitate to have your
astrum transferred out of here with a recommendation that you be removed
from active flight duty.  Have I made myself, clear?"
     "Yes, sir!" Bojay was rigidly attention.  "Pefectly clear, sir!"
     "Good," Cain smiled and backed away, "You've now had the fear of God
put into you, Lieutenant.  You know what I'm capable of doing.  But if
you follow through and make me proud of you, then you'll get a chance to
see the other side of me that makes all the warriors who do get with the
program want to stay on the Pegasus for the rest of their careers." he
paused and then added pointedly, "I'm counting on you, Lieutenant.  Your
cold fish personality aside, your record regarding your pilot skills
speaks for itself, and that means you've got an easier task ahead of you
as far as living up to your full potential goes."
     "I won't let you down, sir," Bojay vowed, determined to obey the
Commander's every word.  The prospect of losing his career as a pilot was
something he couldn't have begun to contemplate.
     The Juggernaut's smile widened just a bit, "I have a feeling you
won't, Lieutenant," he then added softly, "Dismissed."
     Bojay saluted, picked up his bag and made an orderly retreat from
Cain's quarters.  As soon as he heard the door close, he collapsed
against the wall and let out a huge sigh of relief.
     "He gave you the full treatment, didn't he?"
     Bojay looked over and his eyes widened as he saw an incredibly
beautiful woman in a pilot's uniform identical to his own standing across
from him.  She had the warmest smile of any woman he'd ever seen.
     "Uh...yeah," Bojay fished for words, not having expected to see a
woman pilot aboard the Pegasus.  There had been next to none in his
experience aboard the Galactica, and he'd been convinced he'd never see
any at all aboard the Pegasus.  "I guess so."
     "Well, if he gave you the lecture I think he did, then it's my job
to tell you that Silver Spar Squadron is ready to welcome you with open
arms, and then subject you to a little friendly...initiation if you
will."
     "Um...sure.  Sure, I don't mind.  Really.  Ah, what place do you
hold in the squadron?"
     "I command it," she said disarmingly.
     Bojay's eyes widened.  "You...command it?"
     "Surprised?" she smiled coyly.
     "Well...in a way.  I mean..."
     "Women pilots, I know," she sighed, "But believe me, Lieutenant,
everyone here is used to the idea.  So you can consider that your second
lesson of the day, after getting your first one from him." she cocked her
head toward the door that led to Cain's quarters.
     "And I've learned it," Bojay nodded, rapidly growing more and more
impressed with the young woman.  Not only was she beautiful, she had a
warrior's attitude no different from that of any other male pilot he'd
known.  That made for a definitely intriguing combination.
     Hold it, Bojay, he then cautioned himelf.  Don't start getting any
ideas.  She's probably already got half the squadron in love with her
already.  And besides, Cain wants you to mix it up from a camarderie
standpoint, and that obviously wasn't meant to include romance!
     "I'm Sheba," she extended her hand, "And you're...?"
     "Bojay," he said as they headed down the corridor in the direction
of the Pegasus Officers Club...


     ...As Bojay kept recalling that day from three yahrens ago, he
realized that a whole day had gone by before he'd found out that Sheba
was the Juggernaut's daughter.  And looking back, he knew there'd been a
reason for that, even though Sheba had never directly admitted it to him. 
She'd wanted to know if his first instincts toward her would be to treat
her as an equal among the warriors, or whether his first instinct would
be that of romantic interest.  Obviously, if he'd known that she was the
Commander's daughter, that would have scared him off in an instant, but
if he knew enough to avoid that right from the start, then she could feel
more secure with him, and work on integrating him into the rest of the
Squadron.
     Yes, I was playing it safe, Sheba, he thought, but I was in love
with you from the start just the same.  Over three yahrens, he'd
developed a very close friendship with Sheba, eventually becoming her
wingmate, and he'd always hoped that by developing a close kind of
brother-sister relationship, it would make her receptive to the idea of
carrying it further one day.  But events had interceded to make any
thought of romance impractical, especially once the Pegasus went through
the harrowing experience at the Battle of Molocay and ended up heading
out into deep space.  Those were conditions not favorable to would-be
romance at all, and so he had maintained his posture of showing no
outward signs of romantic desire for her.  Always keeping their
relationship one of easy camarderie like he enjoyed with the rest of the
pilots in Silver Spar Squadron, though not as close as he was with Sheba.
     After fate had conspired to separate Bojay and Sheba from the
Pegasus, and brought them back to the Galactica, he'd wondered if his
opportunity had finally come.  But initially, Sheba was in too much shock
from being parted from her father, and he realized again that he needed
to keep biding his time.  And so, he'd waited.
     Then, came that experience that had seen him and eight other pilots
disappear for a brief period that had culminated with the Fleet's
experience with a man called Count Iblis.  And after that incident had
resolved itself with Bojay and the other pilots returned to the Galactica
under circumstances he still couldn't comprehend or recall coherently,
he'd come back to discover a distinct change in Sheba.  Sheba was still
the same woman he'd enjoyed easy camarderie with, but he'd also noticed
that she'd begun to take a distinct interest in Apollo.  And soon, there
had come a time not long after when Apollo had successfully acted as
Starbuck's Protector and gotten him acquitted of a murder charge, when
Sheba had opened herself up to Bojay in the way a sister might be
expected to open up to a brother.
     "I'm in love with him, Bojay," she'd said, "And I know he cares a
lot for me, but is afraid to admit it.  I need to give him some time for
him to sort out whatever he's going through inside."
     The conversation had been like a dagger to Bojay's heart, though
he'd kept up the facade of fraternal support all throughout their talk. 
To hear that she was in love with someone else, especially Apollo, whom
he hadn't had a good rapport with during his first tour of duty aboard
the Galactica, had been almost too much for him to bear.  But what was he
going to do?  The last thing he could do was open up to Sheba and let her
know how he felt about her.  The fraternal side of Bojay could tell that
Sheba's feelings about Apollo were deep, and to try and dissuade her from
how she felt about Apollo would have likely come off as unseemly...and
could even have led Sheba to become angry with him and end their
friendship entirely.  If that had happened, he knew he would have hated
himself forever for destroying a relationship of brother-sister that
Sheba valued so much.
     No, he just had to face the simple truth that he'd blown it with
her.  That he'd lost his opportunity along the way to let her know how
deep his feelings for her were.  He had to resign himself to the fact
that she loved Apollo, and after the mission where Apollo and Starbuck
had infiltrated and destroyed the Cylon baseship, Apollo had come back a
changed man ready to admit that he did love Sheba.  Thus had begun the
relationship that had now led to their imminent sealing.  As a brother,
he was happy for Sheba and was ready to applaud her in her happiness with
the man she loved.  But as someone who wished that he'd been the one to
receive her love, it was too much for him to think of standing in front
of Adama and hearing him ask the question that ordinarily would have been
asked to Cain if the Juggernaut had been present:
     "Will Sheba's  protector-designate, consent to relinquishing his
responsibilities to Apollo, the man she has consented to marry?"
     And too much for him to have the responsibility of saying in
response, "I do consent."   His emotional system wouldn't be able to
handle that, and he knew it.  Ultimately, he knew his reasons were as
selfish as Apollo had said they were, but ultimately, Bojay knew that he
had to look like a heel and say no to the offer, or else his foolish
pride could end up disrupting the wedding in a way that would make Sheba
hate him for the rest of her life.  Because all he could see himself
doing in the situation of being a Protector-Designate and being asked
that question, was cracking from the emotional weight of it all, and
publicly making a spectacle of himself.
     Forgive me, Sheba, he thought.  Please forgive, me.  I wish so much
I had the strength to do it, but I just don't.  I still love you that
much.
     "ETA in ten centons, Captain," Sergeant Lepus's voice snapped him
back to reality.  "I think we'd better begin landing preparations and go
through the disembarking drill with the rest of them."
     "Yes," Bojay nodded.  He rose from his seat and faced the rest of
the landing party, all of whom were either catching a last bit of rest or
engaged in idle chatter with each other.  He was ready now to speak with
authority as their commander, and focus only on the job at hand from now
on.  And it was a job that he was determined to succeed at.

                    Chapter Three

     After finishing his final briefing to the team, Bojay returned to
the shuttle's pilot seat and disengaged the automatic heading.  The
planet lay before them, a round mass of swirling white clouds covering
the entire face of the planet, save for the nine hundred kilometrone wide
expanse in the north-central hemisphere which was a seemingly perfect
mixture of green, brown and blue, and bounded on each side by a clear
expanse of blue sea that only stretched for a short distance before the
swirling white clouds took hold again.
     Sergeant Lepus seemed taken aback by the sight, "I wouldn't even
want to guess what it would be like to be trapped in one of those storm
patterns."
     "Fortunately you don't have to dwell on it, Sergeant," Silver Spar
Leader said smoothly.  All thoughts of his inner anguish were now gone,
replaced only by his determined professionalism.  "We're headed for that
little spot of Paradise right there," he pointed.
     Bojay guided the shuttle in on a perfect heading, making sure his
trajectory would take him right into the dead center of the green
expanse, and avoiding any remote possibility of being caught up in the
turbulence of one of the storms adjacent to where the fertile regions
began.  When they entered the atmosphere, they were greeted to a sight of
clear blue skies, and a breathtaking vista beneath them.
     Once they were on the ground, Bojay wasted little time popping open
the hatch.  He turned back to face the team, who were all unfastening
their harnesses.
     "Okay, here's the checklist one more time.  The first landram heads
out to the west of our base position to check out the mineral deposits
scanned in the initial telemetry readings.  Lepus and Nestor  will
accompany Demos and Clement.  Second landram goes out with Thomson, Jacob
and Pili to study the livestock samples that are roaming the vicinity. 
Corporal Komma and I will stay at base camp to monitor communications,
and Gayla will study the agro-samples in walking distance of base camp. 
I want us to gather as much as we can within the space of four to six
centars, so we can report back to the Galactica and then help coordinate
activities when they start sending in the cargo ships and shuttles." he
then paused briefly and said quietly, "Fall out."
     The seven men and two women rose from their seats, with the three
security guards and one med-tech going to the rear compartment of the
shuttle to get the landrams ready.  The rest filed out the hatch one at a
time, with Bojay the last to exit.  The first thing he did was inhale the
wonderfully fresh, clean air.  This marked the first time he'd been on
any kind of planet surface since his infiltration mission on Gomorrah,
which seemed a thousand yahrens ago to him.
     "Well, one thing's for certain.  No felgercarb in the air to frack
up the ability of plant life to grow.  Not a trace of air pollution of
any kind."
     Bojay turned and frowned as he saw agro-tech Gayla taking a reading. 
She'd uttered two profanities in one sentence as though it were a totally
natural form of speech for her.
     "Uh...Gayla, is it?" he came over to her, "I think we can do without
the colorful metaphors."
     Gayla stared at him, her dead serious expression lending a slight
severity to what was otherwise a very attractive face framed by brown
hair cut a bit shorter than normal for most women.  "It's an accurate
description, isn't it?" 
     "Well, yeah, but..."
     "What's it matter?  I thought warriors like you were used to hearing
things like they were."
     Yeah, but I'm not used to hearing it put that way from agro-techs. 
Especially women agro-techs, he thought.  "Just keep scanning, Gayla."
     "That's what I'm here for." she moved off in the direction of a
large field, just two hundred metrones away.  As Gayla moved out, the
rear compartment door of the shuttle opened and Bojay could hear the
sound of both landrams starting up.  The first one emerged and soon made
a turn to the west, meaning it was the one carrying the mining and
mineral team, while the second one bearing Pili and the two guards
proceeded to the north.
     Now comes the acid test of finding out if this planet is all its
cracked up to be as far as the potential for the Fleet goes, Bojay mused
as he began to walk away from the shuttle, taking in the expanse about
him.  Occasionally looking off in the directions the landrams had gone,
and seeing how much longer they remained in view before they disappeared
over the distant horizons.  Finally, he made his way back toward the
field where Gayla had positioned herself.  He could see the agro-tech
smiling, which helped soften her features and enhance her attractiveness.
     "Captain, we've hit the super fracking jackpot," she said, "This is
a maize field that runs for a thousand metrones in all directions, and
all indications are that it's perfect by our standards.  Look!" she held
up an opened ear of the yellow vegetable and displayed it proudly. 
"Absolutely no impurities whatsoever.  If we harvested this one field
alone, we'd be able to feed at least a few hundred people.  Now do the
math, and realize how many more of these fields exist throughout the safe
regions of the planet, and you're talking about a whole harvest cycle's
worth of food for the entire population with plenty of new seed for
additional crop growth left over."
     "Maize has always been a scare commodity," Bojay noted.
     "Not any more," Gayla said with satisfaction, "After we get done
with this place, that whole group of gallmonging borays hoarding their
stocks for a mega-fracking profit are going to be out of business for
fracking forever!"
     Bojay tried not to wince at Gayla's excessive profanity.  This was
clearly an ingrained character trait of hers, and he knew that if he made
a big deal out of it, she'd probably only get more graphic in her words. 
The sound command judgment was to just ignore it for now.
     "Okay, so it's edible," Bojay said, "But what causes this kind of
abundance to flourish?  Normal rain patterns?  And can there really be
normal weather patterns across this region indepenendent of what happens
on the rest of the planet?"
     "Well, this place gets the water it needs for these plants to grow,"
Gayla said, "Moisture levels in the maize and in the soil reads perfectly
normal."
     "Yes, but can you tell if that moisture in the soil comes from
rainfall or whether its just a natural moisture in the soil itself? 
That's the real important question."
     "I'll need a few more centons to figure that out.  Cross correlating
with the atmosphere readings will be necessary."  She then checked her
scanner, "Humidity level is zero.  Now that's interesting, it's absolute
zero.  That means there's not a trace of moisture in the air.  The
conditions are perfect as if..."
     "As if what?" Bojay pressed.
     Gayla looked at him.  "As if it had been programmed that way.  You
know, now that I think of it," she checked her scanner again and shook
her head, "Same thing with the temperature.  The settings are so perfect,
they remind me of the settings we adjust the control-climate levels to in
the Agro-Domes."
     "So that means this ecosystem produced a perfect setting on its
own," Bojay said, "Good for us.  That means this food should be perfect. 
That means we can send in agro-storage ships at bare minimum."
     "I guess so," Gayla looked back at the expanse of maize before her,
"Still..."
     "Still what?"
     "Nothing," she shook her head, "My silly fracking imagination."
     Which accounts for your silly vocabulary?  Bojay thought
sarcastically as he moved back toward the shuttle, and decided to see if
any reports were coming in from the landrams.  He found Komma seated in
the shuttle-copilot seat with his headset on, listening attentively.
     "Anything?" the captain asked.
     Komma lifted the headset up, "Mineral shuttle not in position yet. 
Livestock shuttle already reports seeing a herd of rather unusual looking
bovine creatures.  With three horns instead of two like we're used to. 
But Pili says those are just like the ones on her planet."
     "Is that so?" Bojay leaned against the compartment wall, "I guess
they should be edible from our standpoint, one extra horn
notwithstanding."
     "Well, Pili also says that particular breed of bovine was always a
favorite of those giant rapton creatures from her planet too."
     The captain let out a dry chuckle, "She'd better not start
recognizing one of those things, or else our trip here comes to a very
premature end.  Tell them to chart those areas where the herds are
grazing and gathering, and we'll consider it a done deal that livestock
supply ships will need to head in."
     "Thomson says he can't get over how tall and thick the grass is for
them to graze in," Komma added, "From the standpoint of animal life
surviving, the planet conditions are perfect."
     "Two for two," Bojay nodded, "Now let's wait to hear from the
mineral team and see if we end up with a perfect score.  If our luck
stays with us, our main job can be done in a centar and then the
Galactica can direct operations from their end when the supply ships head
in."
     "Suit me just fine," Komma smirked, "I'm getting homesick for my
desk already."


     "I'm only getting trace tylium deposits so far, but if we follow
things right we should get led to a big one, if the planet scan data was
accurate."   Demos said as Sergeant Lepus guided the landram over the
terrain that had shifted from the fertile grasslands of the landing zone,
to a more rocky surface.
     "And if it wasn't, then we get a nice reminder of how we should
never put our faith in computers too much," the mining expert Clement
chuckled from the back of the landram.  Until they found an actual
deposit and could take readings on how to mine it, he'd have absolutely
no meaningful work to do.  So that would mean an idle crack at every
possible opportunity to keep himself from becoming bored.
     But alongside him in the back, med-tech Nestor had found another way
of alleviating the boredom caused by nothing to do.  His eyes were
closed, and he was catching a few extra centons of sleep.  The med-tech
had long since perfected the ability to fall asleep at will and get the
extra amounts of sleep over the course of a normal working cycle that he
felt the body needed to stay in top shape when it was time to do normal
work.  Even as the sound of  pinging increased in rhythm inside the
landram, Nestor was still out.
     "Readings starting to go off the scale," Demos started to smile,
"Trace levels now up to concentrate 3.33 and rising fast.  When that
sucker hits ten we're on top of the deposit."
     Lepus glanced over at the scanner as he continued to drive the
landram over the terrain.  He could see the digital readout just as the
mineralologist described it, as well as the indicator of what sector it
lay in.  And then...at the edge of his scan beam, he noticed something
else that made him frown.
     "Hey Demos, if you got a micron, check that indication on the edge
of the scan beam in Delta two section."
     "That's outside the source for this deposit,"
     "Just check it," Lepus gently retorted, reminding the mineralologist
that he was in overall command.
     Demos stared at it and his eyes narrowed, "Huh?  You got to be
kidding me, that almost looks like-----,"
     "It is," Lepus cut him off, "On a narrow band no more than fifteen
square metrones wide.  Fifteen perfect square metrones with no
deviations."
     "What are you babbling about?" Clement leaned forward from his seat
in the rear of the landram and when he did he too saw the indicator.  And
like the other two, his face went up in a deep frown of disbelief,
"That's incredible."
     "I'm redirecting the scan," Lepus said as he made some adjustments. 
"This way the reading will be in the center of the screen."
     When he was through with the adjustment they were all in a state of
dumbfounded amazement.  So much so, that Lepus found himself bringing the
landram to a stop.
     "Hey Nestor," Clement leaned over and nudged the dozing med-tech
     Nestor let out a groan, "I hope this is a medical emergency."
     "Might be," Demos's tone was deadly serious, "Maybe the three of us
are hallucinating and you can confirm that."
     "Confirm what?" Nestor grunted as he leaned forward.
     "That," Lepus pointed at the screen.
     The med-tech squinted and then blinked twice.  "What in the name
of..."
     "Great," Clement sighed, "We're not hallucinating."
      "That makes no sense whatsoever."  Nestor vigorously shook his
head, "If that computer is right then it means it's raining in that one
narrow bit of space and no where else around it."
     "A steady downpour in that one spot," Lepus said, "Almost like...as
if some part of the rest of this crazy planet seeped its way into here."
     The silence inside the shuttle lasted another centon before Clement
broke it.  "So what do we do?  Stop to report it?"
     "I guess we have to," Lepus began to feel just a bit uneasy as he
keyed in the communication swith, "Beta Landram to Base.  Is Captain
Bojay there?"
     "Hang on a micron," Komma's voice crackled back.  Lepus drummed his
fingers against the landram control as he waited.
     "What's up Beta?" Bojay's voice now filled the landram.
     "Captain, we're almost on top of a pretty good tylium deposit,
but...we may have a problem here."
     "What kind of problem?"
     Lepus took a centon to recap what they'd observed on the scanner. 
When the sergeant was finished, there was no hesitation before Bojay
answered.
     "Well, that's an interesting situation for me to chew on, Sergeant,
but I think it's best you get back to work on that tylium deposit and
figure out the math on how it can be mined.  Try to keep that reading on
your scanner at all times though, and report back to me if there's any
change in the pattern."
     "We'll do that.  Beta out."
     But as Lepus moved the landram back on the heading toward the source
of they tylium deposit, an uneasy silence remained in the vehicle.  And
in the back, Clement no longer felt in the mood to make any more idle
cracks since he wasn't bored any longer.  Nor did Nestor feel up to
catching an extra centon of sleep.


     "Well, that's an interesting report," Bojay sighed as he removed his
headset and set it next to Komma, who'd heard the entire exchange.
     "Yeah," the corporal didn't know how to react to it, "Think that's
cause for alarm?"
     "Not by a longshot," the captain shook his head, "I'm beginning to
develop a theory that this entire region is protected from the rest of
the planet by some kind of...outer membrane if you will, that lets a
normal climate to develop, and that inevitably you probably have to find
some minor breeches in it somewhere, but not sufficient to collapse the
entire thing.  Especially when it's as narrow a stream as they're
describing.  We continue normal operations unless there's a sudden change
in what they've described."
     "I don't know," Komma said, "If the conditions are so perfect,
then...what if it isn't a natural thing that makes the weather good,
but..."
     "Something controlled by someone or some thing?" Bojay finished for
him.  "Komma, I thought about that right when I first scanned this planet
on my deep patrol, but there's no scan reading of any intelligent
sentient lifeforms on this planet.  Also, no structured buildings that
would be needed if there was some kind of controlled way of creating
these conditions.  Until I see some hard proof from some other area, I
can't go with that theory as probable, no matter how tempting the idea
looks at first."
     Komma shrugged, "Maybe.  Still, it seems like a one in a billion
shot for this to be caused naturally."
     "We often overlook a lot of correct solutions just because they seem
like one in a billion." Bojay pointed out, "I'm just going to let the
facts as we find them dictate our conclusions.  So far, I don't see a
scenario that threatens our ability to take readings and then hopefully
pick this planet clean."
     "A minimal risk situation, in other words, is no cause for alarm."
     "The weather would have to deteriorate a lot more quickly for me to
be convinced there's reason for alarm."
     Just then, Gayla stuck her head in the open hatch.  "I'm done with
the study for this section.  Unless one of the landrams is coming back
for me to use, I've got nothing else to do but just look at the fracking
scanner and see what the other readings indicate."
     "Go ahead, Gayla," Bojay decided he'd reached his limit, "But get
one thing straight.  It's not a fracking scanner, it's just a scanner. 
And there are a lot of other things in this universe that don't get
preceded by that word either."
     Gayla looked at him funny, "Boy, you hardly struck me as the prudish
type."
     "I'm not and that isn't the point!" Bojay said with exasperation,
and feeling grateful he'd caught himself short of saying 'fracking
point.'     "There are certain places where it isn't appropriate, and
this is one of them.  Now if you want to curse up a storm by yourself, go
right ahead, but not if you're going to spend your time in here."
     Gayla threw Komma a coy look, "How about you, Corporal?  Do you find
the idea of a woman using profanity unseemly?"
     Komma hastily threw up his hands and shook his head, "Don't ask for
my opinion on anything."
     "You got that right," Bojay said angrily, "I don't know what your
problem is, Gayla, but if you don't drop it right now, I'll make sure you
get put on report with your supervisor for the next sectan."
     She rolled her eyes in bemused disgust and sat next to Komma, "Since
you find my language unseemly, Captain, would you also object if I
grabbed a smoke?" she pulled a cigarello out of her tunic pocket.
     "No, go right ahead," Bojay calmed himself.  Besides, if you stick
one of those in your mouth, it'll keep you from talking too much, he
added sarcastically to himself.
     Gayla lit her cigarello and took a deep puff as she began to
readjust the shuttle's scan beam.  A whole new set of data and telemetry
now began to register on the screen.
     Abruptly, her carefree expression faded and she instinctively put
her cigarello out.
     "Captain," her tone was suddenly dead serious, "We've got some
deteriorating weather about fifteen kilometrones to our east."
     "Rain?" Bojay leaned over her shoulder.
     "No, not rain, but...wind's picking up and the barometric pressure
is dropping in that zone."
     "Limited zone or expanding zone?" he added quickly, "This is
important."
     "Uh...just a micron," Gayla readjusted the beam.  "Limited.  Limited
zone fixed in ten square metrone region.  The difference is so great with
the adjacent areas, that's why the indicator jumped off the scale as soon
as I scanned it."
     "Sounds like we've got more than one breech in this 'membrane',"
Komma noted.
     "Yeah," Bojay rubbed his chin, "Drop in barometric pressure though
is another thing entirely from just rain.  I wonder..." he drummed his
fingers on the wall, clearly pondering his next decision.
     "Sir?" Komma asked.
     "Komma, tell the livestock landram to get back here immediately. 
Find out if the mining landram has finished its preliminary survey of the
deposit, and the instant they've got it figured out how it can be mined
by our equipment, they're to get back here too."
     "We're leaving?" Gayla asked as Komma carried out the order.
     "Just to get off the planet and signal the Galactica on the
scrambled circuit, which we can't do parked here on the surface.  We've
got let them know the potential hazards and let Adama make the decision
if the risk factor's too great to send in cargo supply ships.  That's got
to be his call ultimately.  But I can't give him full information until
the mining team figures out what procedures would be needed to get the
tylium out.  That's why we've got to give them more time."
     "Hope we don't regret giving them that extra time," Gayla said.
     "Livestock landram on its way back," Komma said, "The mining landram
just got to the deposit site.  Demos and Clement are outside doing the
survey and will need about ten centons to get all they need."
     "I think we'll be okay on that," Bojay said, hoping he wouldn't have
cause to regret those words later.  Nothing was seriously wrong yet, but
he was beginning to feel that twinge of unease that had been instilled in
him after being part of Commander Cain's ship for three yahrens.  At the
same time though, if he left the surface too soon, before the vital
survey work was done, it would carry the look of panicking needlessly,
and that could easily wreck Adama's confidence in him to lead future
missions of this kind.  And that was the last thing he needed to have
happen.


     The mining landram sat parked at the base of a medium-sized plateau,
while Demos and Clement inspected the area surrounding it with full
equipment.  Nestor and Lepus remained inside.
     "Hope they don't take too long," Lepus mused aloud, "The more time I
spend on this planet, the more I want to get off it."
     "Whatever happened to a security guard's natural desire to go planet
studying?" Nestor asked dryly.
     "I think we all lost it after the Destruction," Lepus replied, not
feeling up to any kind of mirthful remark.
     Demos stuck his head back in, "It's perfect grade-A tylium
underneath us.  Absolutely pure with no impurities, and if we used it, we
wouldn't even need to reprocess it for use in the ships that are fueled
by it."
     "Is there a catch to any of this?" Lepus asked.
     "Not really," Demos shook his head, "Just that according to Clement,
our normal extraction tools couldn't get to it without blasting away some
of the rock formations in this area.  It's really a minor thing when you
get down to it."
     "Then in that case, I guess we can wind things up and get back to
base."
     "Not yet," Clement said, as he came up alongside Demos, "Sergeant,
I've got a few mid-level charges in my pack, and so does Demos.  Between
the two of us, we can get all that blasting we need to do done, and then
leave the place set-up perfectly for a rapid mining job."
     Lepus folded his hands, "How much time would you need to do that?"
     "About ten, maybe fifteen centons top.  I think this is worth doing,
sir."
     "Demos?"
     "I concur," the mineralologist nodded.  "We can get some vital work
done."
     The security guard skipped a beat and then keyed in his transmitter,
"Beta landram to base.  We're going to be another ten or fifteen centons
before we start heading back."
     "Have you run into something?" there was an edge of concern in
Bojay's voice.
     "No, no problem, but Demos and Clement want to blast away some rock
formations and facilitate mining operations for the Galactica.  They've
got the equipment for it, so they might as well get it done."
     "Yeah, that might be a good thing to add in the report to the
Commander that we've gotten done.  Is it a promising target?"
     "Pure tylium that wouldn't need any reprocessing," Lepus said, "The
Fleet will want to tap this whole section dry."
     "Yeah, I guess so.  Okay, do it.  But if you run into any extended
difficulty getting the job done, then forget it and get back here."
     "Affirmative, base.  Beta landram, out."  Lepus switched off the
transmitter and looked at the two men, "Get cracking, now, gentlemen.  If
you're not done in fifteen centons, we're gone."
     They both smiled and headed out.  For the next several centons,
Lepus watched through the front of the landram and saw them set up their
charges along the medium sized rock formation some hundred metrones from
where the vehicle was parked.  Both of them handled the devices with the
fine precision one would have expected of men in their designations, with
neither showing any sign of being nervous about handling such potentially
dangerous devices.
     Lepus yawned and turned around.  Nestor had now overcome his earlier
tinge of apprehension, and had gone back to catching an extra few centons
of sleep.
     I wish I could fall asleep on command like him, Lepus thought.  I
guess you have to be a sharp med-expert to figure out how to do something
like that.
     Suddenly, the sound of a loud explosion ripped through the air,
causing Nestor to bolt out of his brief slumber, and Lepus to whip his
head around.  Through the cloud of dust and falling pieces of rock, he
could see a figure sprawled across the ground.  When he saw Clement, some
twenty metrones to the right suddenly get to his feet and start waving
his arms frantically, he knew right away that Demos, the mineralologist
was the one who had just been seriously injured.
     "Frack!" Lepus jumped out of his seat in the landram, "Hurry,
Nestor, Demos's hurt!!"
     Nestor grabbed his med-pack, and the two hurried out of the landram
and over to where Demos lay.  A dazed Clement wandered up alongside them,
his expression one of shock.
     "What the hell happened?" Lepus demanded as Nestor immediately went
to work on the wounded and unconscious  mineralologist.  Blood flowed
from a number of cuts across the body, but the tell-tale sign of serious
injury lay in the shredded and mangled condition of Demos's left arm and
leg, which almost seemed unrecognizable.
     "I don't know," Clement mumbled, still coming to grips with what had
happened, "He'd just finished placing his second of four charges and set
the timer on it, and then suddenly it went off!  That shouldn't have
happened unless he had a faulty charge to begin with."
     "How is he?" Lepus turned back to Nestor, who had opened up his pack
and started administering two injections.
     "I have to keep him immbolized for now," the med-tech's
professionalism kicked in.  "Stop the bleeding first, and then get the
potential infection neutralized before I start dressing up the wounds. 
If I do this just right, then hopefully he won't lose the arm and leg."
     "Can't you move him back into the landram?"
     Nestor turned around and glared at the sergeant, "I can't move him
at all if I want to give him a good chance for surviving this.  One thing
I am not going to do is risk exacerbating his injuries further by moving
him back to the landram, let alone subjecting him to a lengthy, bumpy
ride back to base!"
     "Great," Lepus said with disgust, "Just fracking great.  Of all the
times to find out we've got a fracked up set of defective charges..." he
then stopped and a wave of horror came over him.  "Wait a micron.  Were
the timers set on those other charges you two laid before this happened?"
     "Yes, they...oh God," Clement said in horror, "We've got five
centons to get the other two charges Demos laid defused.  They're just
ten and twenty metrones to the left!"
     "Okay, hold on, hold on!" Lepus threw up his arms and tried to sort
everything out.  "If the charges you set go off on schedule, they can't
affect us here.  We're far enough from those, right?"
     "Yeah, but we could get hit by flying bits of rock and dirt from
those.  With Demos's charges it can only be worse!"
     "All right, all right," the sergeant said rapidly, trying to think
quickly, "Nestor, you've got to move him back to the landram and we've
got to let those charges go off.  The risk factor is too great if we keep
him in this position and try to defuse things."
     "Sergeant, I'm telling you he's got to stay immobilized to have the
best chance of saving his leg!"
     "Well he can't have the best chance for it, because if any of us are
sitting here when those other charges go off, it could be a lot worse for
him and us!" Lepus barked, "Now come on!  We'll help carry him back as
delicately as we can.  At least far enough to get out of the line of
where all that debris from the explosions is going to fly."
     Reluctantly, Nestor closed up his med-pack and motioned them over. 
"Lepus, take him by the shoulders.  Clement, you and I keep his leg
level."
     Slowly, the three of them gently lifted the wounded Demos up and
taking their steps very slowly, they began to move back toward the
landram, some fifty metrones away.
     "Go about halfway and we should be okay," Clement grunted as he and
Nestor struggled to keep Demos level, and not let his mangled leg drop. 
"Blast direction was aimed toward the rocks, so that shouldn't scatter
the debris too far back toward us."
     "All right," Lepus could feel the strain of carrying the injured man
threatening to overtake him.  A few more metrones...okay, now!"
     And then, they gently set him back down on the surface.  Nestor
dropped to his knees, reopened his pack and went back to work on treating
the leg.  Lepus and Clement both let out exhausted sighs of relief and
looked back toward the rock formations.
     "One more centon," Clement said, "Then they go off.  The job will be
done."
     "At a pretty lousy price," Lepus grunted, "We're going to have to
have every mid-charge explosive in Ordnance rechecked for flaws after
this if he had an unstable one."
     "Sergeant, our charges didn't come from Ordnance.  SOP for civilian
techs in mining and mineralology is to keep our own supply of charges
separate from the ones the military use aboard the Mineral Ship."
     Lepus's eyes widened, "I never knew you guys had your own supply. 
Well, it looks like the Mineral Ship needs to recheck their stock then."
     "Twenty microns," Clement quickly rechecked his chronometer.  "We'd
better get down just in case."
     The two of them squatted down around Nestor and the injured Demos
and waited.  When the explosions finally went off, only several specks of
dirt reached their position twenty-five metrones away.
     As Nestor continued to work on his unconscious patient, Lepus and
Clement got back up and looked at what the charges had done.  And once
again, they found themselves surprised by what they saw.  Without saying
anything, they slowly made their way back toward the source of the blast.
     Nestor, who had his head down and was applying a new torniquet to
Demos's leg soon finally broke the silence, "Well, what do----,"
     He then broke off as he looked up and his eyes widened as he saw
Lepus and Clement standing in front of a blasted open rock formation that
now revealed a large intricate pattern of relay cables and computer
equipment that had now been heavily damaged.  Several blinking lights
indicated some remaining circuits that still managed to function.
     Demos suddenly let out an agonized moan as he began returning to
consciousness, "Wha...What happened?"
     The med-tech looked down at him and smiled reassuringly, "You're
going to be okay, Demos.  You'll probably never play triad again, but
you'll be okay."
     "What...what's going on, I----," he struggled to turn his head and
look back.  "What in...what's that?"
     Nestor let out a grim chuckle, "It looks like we're not the first
people who ever came to this planet." 

                    Chapter Four

     "Are there any indications as to what those relays and computers
control?"  a stunned Bojay asked as he communicated with Lepus.
     "Not that we can see, Captain," Lepus replied, "It looks like this
was a quintessential relay type set-up, and whatever central source it
feeds into, or flows out from, is a long way from here."
     "And your scanning didn't detect any of it before you decided to
blast the rock areas they were buried in?"
     "No.  No way to figure out why that happened, but it could be they
had some kind of safety coating or device that made them impervious to
normal scan technology.  Our scans picked up all of the tylium that lies
underneath this zone of circuitry and which flows out away from it.  It
was our dumb luck that one of the charges was placed in that particular
zone because we probably didn't need to set it there just to get at the
tylium."
     "Okay, take whatever readings you can on that so the Galactica can
go over them in more detail later," Bojay said as he paced back and forth
inside the shuttle.  "How soon before you can get Demos safely aboard the
landram?"
     "Nestor wants a little more time to make sure his wounds are fully
sterilized from infection.  He doesn't have any internal injuries thank
God, but there was a lot of concern that he could lose the leg
altogether.  I think maybe we can finally head out in about thirty
centons top."
     "Okay, you've got that much time only if the situation here on the
planet remains stable.  Slightest sign of trouble you're to get your
astrums out of there right away.  Base out."
     Bojay took off his headset and shook his head, "What else can go
wrong.  Now we've got a man seriously injured at the worst possible
centon."
     "I think we know what the worst thing can happen is," Komma pointed
out, "Suppose those relay stations have something to do with the
weather?"
     The captain looked back at him and nodded, "Yeah.  And if some of
them have been disrupted because of what just happened, then we could be
looking at our worst case scenario.  Still, until we get a sign that the
weather's turning bad on us, let's just try to keep doing what we can."
     "Doesn't look like this planet's going to be the bounty of riches we
were hoping for," Komma grunted, "Adama's probably going to consider the
safety risk too great to send in larger teams."
     "Unfortunate if it comes to that.  I'd hate to think that some
faulty-stored charges on the Mineral Ship became the cause of that."
     Komma put a hand up to his headset, and listened in.  "Thomson on
the livestock landram's got a new report."
     "Put him through.  They were supposed to be back by now," Bojay felt
a bit irritated.
     "Alpha landram to Base," Sergeant Thomson's voice filled the
shuttle, "We just hit a snag getting back.  There's a whole giant herd of
bovines blocking our path.  We either have to disperse them or backtrack
our way around."
     "Use your own judgment on which way is better, Sergeant," Bojay
rolled his eyes, "That's all."
     "Yes sir, we----," he then broke off.
     "What?" Bojay leaned forward, "Thomson, what's going on?"
     "Uh...those bovines suddenly started to get up and, geez looks like
a fracking stampede!  I'm backing us up to stay clear of them, they're
going across our field of vision.  Now..." he paused, "Now we've got some
equines headed in too.  Lords of Kobol, almost looks like every herd we
inventoried earlier is headed right in front of us.  What?" his voice
changed pitch as if he were responding to someone behind him.
     "Thomson?" Bojay's impatience deepened.
     "Just a micron, Captain, Pili's trying to tell me something."
     Great, Bojay thought with disgust.  How long is that going to take?
     Not long as it turned out.  "Captain, Pili says that when animal
herds like that suddenly start stampeding it always meant one of two
things on her planet.  One, that a rapton was about to strike, and the
other was a sudden change in the weather."
     "Oh Lord," Bojay for the first time began to feel his unease deepen,
"Thomson drive yourself through those animals and get back here!  Use
your cannon if you have to blast your way through but get back here,
fast!  Base out!"   He then switched the frequency setting, "Base to Beta
landram.  Get back here, now!  Situation no longer stable!  Do you
acknowledge?"
     There was a trace of delay before Lepus answered, "Yes sir,
but----."
     "No fracking buts!" Bojay shouted into the transmitter, "Get back
here now or you endanger the rest of us!"
     "Yes, sir!" Lepus replied obediently, "Beta landram out!"
     Bojay pulled off his headset, "Komma, start securing things for
emergency take-off.  If things reach a danger point and they're not back,
I may order you out of here so you can signal the Galactica and tell them
what's happened."
     "Captain!" Gayla blurted as she appeared at the hatchway, placing
her hands on it, "Take a look at this!"
     Bojay hurried over and looked out.  Far away to the east, he could
see the sky start to take on an ominously dark quality.  And then, he
felt a sudden breeze brush against his cheek.
     "Where I come from, the sky darkening and the barometer dropping at
the same time usually means only one thing," Gayla said, "There's going
to be a cyclone at some point."
     "Cyclone," Bojay whispered.  He'd never been caught up in one of
those kinds of horrific storms involving a funnel-shaped cloud packing
major winds dropping to the ground and leaving a devastating path of
destruction in its wake.  But he'd seen his share of amateur video
recordings shown on vid-com broadcasts over the yahrens to know how
frightening they looked and could be.  "If one of those comes up, what
kind of protection would we have?"
     Gayla looked back at the shuttle, "In that thing, practically none. 
A cyclone could lift it up and toss it aside like a triad player shooting
the ball for a score."
     "And if it can do that to the shuttle, then God knows those in the
landrams wouldn't stand a chance either."
     "We've got to do something in case one comes up before the others
get back."
     "That's why I've got Komma ready to get out of here in a hurry so he
can get clear of the planet and signal the Galactica." he looked at the
agro-tech, "You get aboard and be prepared to go with him if it comes to
that.  No point putting your life at risk."
     "Uh-uh," Gayla shook her head, "I'm not leaving ahead of the other
members of this team.  If Komma has to go, then he goes alone."
     Bojay glared at her, "If I give you a direct order to leave, Gayla,
then you'll leave."
     "Then pick me up with your own fracking arms and haul me in there,
because I won't leave without Pili and the others," Gayla held her
ground.  "And instead of making some fracking macho point to me about how
my place would be in the shuttle, suppose we get our astrums going on
digging some shelter we might need?"
     Bojay shook his head in disgust, "Yeah, yeah.  Start digging at the
base of the maize field.  We can't let any hole we dig be out in the
open, right?"
     "Right." she pulled out the laser pistol she'd been issued with her
equipment pack.  "Let's get to it."
     "Captain!" Komma stuck his head out of the shuttle, "Scan readings
are going way off the charts!  That area with the pressure drop is
collapsing rapidly, and there are signs of other breeches opening up
too!"
     "Komma, stand by and prepare to get out of here!" Bojay shouted back
as he and Gayla sprinted toward the edge of the maize field with lasers
at the ready.  The two of them then took aim and pointed them at the
ground, opening fire at maximum setting.  Immediately, large chunks of
dirt kicked up and the concentrated beam of their lasers began to create
an ever widening and deepening hole in the ground.
     For five centons, they continued to empty their pistols into the
ground, making a hole that would be big enough to accomodate them both. 
Throughout their digging, they could feel the wind picking up and blowing
more and more in their faces.  Then, Gayla looked up and her face turned
ashen.
     "Cyclone!" she shouted.
     Bojay glanced up and felt his blood rush cold.  In the distance he
could see an ugly, black funnel-shaped cloud descending from the swirling
cloud-mass above toward the ground below.  Like a giant finger or
tentacle it extended down until it touched the ground and then began to
swirl in a clockwise fashion, spiraling ominously in their direction.
     "Get in there!" Bojay pushed Gayla down into the makeshift hole, and
then sprinted back toward the shuttle and sticking his head in.  
     "Take off!" he shouted at Komma, "Take off and signal the
Galactica!"
     "I'll try to get back down here after it passes and pick you all
up!" the security guard shouted back with determination.
     "Worry about that later, just go!" Bojay slammed his fist against
the open hatch and then hurried back to the maize field.  The horrific
cyclone was now moving closer toward them, and the increased tempo of the
wind was beginning to make it difficult for Bojay to keep moving.
     Behind him, he heard the sounds of the shuttle starting up and
maneuvering itself into a take-off position.  As soon as he reached the
field, he looked back and saw that it was away, and rising rapidly.
     Bojay dropped into the two metrone deep hole next to Gayla, who was
sprawled out on her stomach and had the rest of her equipment pack
opened.
     "I've secured a metal brace used for rock climbing in here," she
said as calmly as she could, "If we tie a rope through it, and then get
it around ourselves, that might keep us more secure in here."
     "Good idea," Bojay nodded as he opened up his own equipment pack and
took out the long rope contained inside and knotted it to the brace Gayla
had secured in the side of the hole.  Ordinarily, these tools would have
been used for climbing rock formations and keeping a climber securely
harnessed to prevent him from falling.  Now, it offered the only
impromptu means of finding a way to ride out the impending disaster.  And
both of them knew that there was the potential for it remaining less
secure to the subsoil of the ground then if it had been hammered into
solid rock.
     Bojay secured the rope around the both of them and then flattened
himself against the surface as far as he could go.  Instinctively, his
arm went around Gayla and pulled her closer to him.
     "And I thought all this time, I wasn't your type, Captain," she
managed to chuckle as the sound of the wind picked up, almost drowning
out her words.
     "Disaster can make strange bedfellows, can't it?" he managed to
shout above the roar, which was fast becoming deafening.
     "It's almost on top of us!" Gayla managed to shout, "Sounds like an
express hover-craft!"
     The wind whipped above them, beating against their bodies with
incredible force.  Bojay could feel the rope grow taut, and for one
fraction of an instant wondered if he was going to be yanked up and blown
out of the makeshift shelter, but it held fast and he remained secure. 
He could feel his body pelted by dust and several ears of maize as well,
and the pressure building up inside his ears was so great he wondered if
they'd explode.
     And then, the fury of the wind abruptly died down and the noise
abated.  Slowly, Bojay craned his head up so he could see above the ridge
of the hole.
     "It's passed," he said with relief as he let go of Gayla and then
unhitched himself.  
     "Frack almighty," Gayla muttered as she came up to a sitting
position and rubbed the back of her neck.
     Slowly, Silver Spar Leader got to his feet and watched the mighty
cyclone move away from them.  He could see clumps of bushes and small
trees in the distance get picked up by the force of the killer storm, and
get sucked up into the swirling maelstrom, and it only made Bojay shudder
at the thought of what getting caught up in that fury would be like
before the merciful release of death finally came.
     He looked back to his left to reorient his bearings, and then turned
back to the receding cyclone.
     "Oh Lord," Bojay muttered, "If it stays on that heading, then the
livestock landram is going to get caught up in that."
     Gayla's only response was a silent expression of total horror.


     "That's the situation, Commander," Komma sounded anxious to be
finished with his summary of what had happened.  "Clearly, there's some
kind of central station that's kept the weather under control in this
part of the planet, and we've ended up damaging it.  There's no telling
how much worse things are going to get on the planet before all is said
and done."
     Aboard the Galactica bridge, Adama stood on the upper level rubbing
his chin, an impervious expression lining his face.  Standing next to
him, Colonel Tigh only revealed the slightest trace of unease.
     "Thank you for your report, Corporal," Adama finally said, "Return
to the surface and remove all members of the team as orderly as you can. 
Their safety comes before anything else."
     "Yes sir, Commander," he paused, "Sir, I'm taking another look at
what's happening down there.  It looks like more holes are opening up
because I can see more nasty weather patterns developing."
     "Use caution in getting down there safely, so you can pull them
out," Adama said, "Galactica out."
     He shut off the communicator and let out a dejected sigh.  "This is
the last thing I wanted to see happen.  We find a promising lead for
resources and now it could cost ten people their lives."
     "Certainly not the kind of situation that could help matters with
the Council if it came to that," the executive officer noted.  
     "I'll be in a no-win situation either way," Adama grunted, "If
they're killed, they'll criticize my judgment for sending them in.  If
they get out safe, they'll come down harshly on me if I then decide to
abandon all hope of getting any resources from there.  It's just the kind
of situation that could wake up Sire Antipas after all this time, since
he has a choice of which way to go depending on how things turn out."
     "True," Tigh nodded, "What do we do in the meantime?"
     "Well, Komma's going to be in a tricky situation trying to get the
team out in those conditions.  It might be a good idea to have some
back-up standing by in case something goes wrong."
     "You mean send out another shuttle?"
     "Yes," the Commander said, "And send a viper ahead of it, so it can
be in position above the planet to commuincate with the ground and keep
them up to date on what's happening."
     "I'll see to it," Tigh moved off, leaving Adama alone on the upper
level and shaking his head in disgust over the downturn in events.


     "Frack!" Sergeant Thomson slammed his fist against the control wheel
of the landram.  Nine bovine creatures, each with the distinctive third
horn that set them apart from the kind he was ordinarily used to had
hopelessly blocked the vehicle's path.  He could also seen an
increasingly darkening sky, and with the increased tempo of the wind, the
stopped landram had begun to rock slightly.  "We're never going to get
back at this rate.  Jacob, get up on the roof and start training the
cannon on them."
     "Yes sir!" Corporal Jacob got up and opened the landram door, and
stepped out.  An increasingly uneasy Pili then reached over and closed
it, shutting off the increasing howl of the wind.
     "Not good," the Kiian said in her customary awkward way, "Weather
only bad from now on."
     "Yeah," Thomson grunted as he kept looking ahead.  And then, several
red streaks from above indicated that Jacob had begun opening fire. 
Several bovines promptly fell, while the others began to quickly
disperse.  Seeing an opening, he now began to move the landram forward in
the direction of the base camp.
     "Sergeant!" Jacob's voice suddenly came over the intercom, "Twenty
degrees to your left, about five kilometrones away!  Cyclone!"
     Thomson's head darted over and his jaw fell open as he saw the ugly,
funnel-shaped behemoth moving toward them.  He could see the uprooted
trees swirling into the matrix of it, which was enough to tell him how
powerful its force had to be.
     Pili settled next to him and a look of terror crossed her face.
     "The Evil One's sign," she whispered. 
     Thomson glanced over at her for only an instant.  Obviously a
cyclone had some kind of religious significance among her people, but he
wasn't about to ask her to elaborate further on that.  Right now he had a
critical decision to make.
     "Jacob, make sure you're secured!" he shouted into the intercom. 
"I'm going to try to angle our way around that gallmonging fracker!"
     "It's really moving fast, sir!" Jacob clearly wasn't thrilled by
that news.  "I'm not sure if----,"
     "Shut up and secure yourself!" Thomson shouted as he gunned up the
landram to maximum speed and moved on a heading to the southwest, which
he hoped would take it outside the path of the oncoming whirlwin from the
southeast.  The vehicle moved sluggishly over one of the dead bovines
gunned down by the cannon, but then finally began to move at top speed. 
Over the sound of the landram engines, the only other noises were the
increasing tempo of the wind and some low murmuring from Pili, which
almost sounded like a kind of incantation or prayer.
     Hoping to ward it off, no doubt, Thomson thought as he kept his
tight hold on the wheel and his foot to the pedal.  I hope she's got some
good experience at doing that.
     "Sergeant, I think it's changing course!" Jacob's voice grew more
alarmed.  "Moving lateral now in our direction!"
     Thomson glanced over and gritted his teeth in disgust, "Come on you
fracking snitrod, stay away!" 
     Next to him, the tempo of Pili's soft incantation only quickened.  A
sudden gust of wind suddenly pushed the landram to one side, requiring
Thomson to turn the wheel hard in the other direction to compensate.
     "We're not going to make it!" Jacob's rising voice was almost
drowned out by the rumbling hovercraft like noise. 
     Thomson glanced over frantically to his right and saw a large pile
of boulders situated against the base of a medium sized hill.  Knowing
time was running out, he gunned the landram up one more time and brought
it to a stop in front of the pile.
     "Out!" he shouted as he hit the button that opened the door, "Get
behind the rocks and maybe this thing can also buffer the winds if it
doesn't come directly over us!"
     He then pushed Pili out, and she stumbled over the rocks but managed
to throw herself across the ground and wrap her arms about one of them. 
He followed her out and had to struggle violently to make his way
forward, as the power of the wind threatened to lift him off the ground
altogether.  
     "Jacob!" he screamed as loud as he could, but wasn't able to turn
around, "Get down here!"
     As Thomson managed to get to the ground behind the rock piles next
to where Pili lay, he heard a loud groaning sound of metal being pushed
by a giant force.  And then, he was barely able to look up and see the
landram suddenly rise off the ground like it was a shuttle taking off
into the air.  
     As it rose rapidly, Sergeant Thomson's eyes widened in horror when
he saw that Corporal Jacob was still clutching the ladder leading to the
gundeck when the landram began its sudden rise.  For ten microns, Thomson
was forced to watch the horrifying sight of the land vehicle rapidly
disappearing from view, with the distinct brown jacket of Jacob on the
side still visible the entire time.  And then...it was gone without a
trace.
     As the mighty roar of the cyclone passed a mere sixty metrones from
where he and Pili lay, the only thing Sergeant Thomson could do was bury
his face in the ground in anguish.


     As soon as Komma finished his report to the Galactica, he wasted
little time bringing the shuttle out of its standard orbit of the planet,
and on a descent trajectory that would place him  within proximity of the
original landing spot.  The closer he was to it, the better chance he had
of letting the rest of the team know he was back and ready to take them
home.
     First time you drew a planetside mission, he thought idly with
disgust, and it had to be for something like this.  Where you couldn't
even find yourself up against an enemy you could fire back at.  How in
Hades do you open fire on the weather?
     He checked his scanner again and saw that the landing area was in
the clear for now, weather-wise.  But he could also on his full view of
the entire planet surface see a large number of weather patterns and
formations that could only mean massive levels of cyclonic activity
acorss the eight-hundred kilometrone expanse.
     He blinked as he saw that last indicator.  Eight-hundred
kilometrones?  That doesn't check.  This whole area is supposed to be
nine-hundred kilometrones in length.
     Komma retriangulated his scan to the westernmost edge of the land
mass and saw that a massive cloud formation had now moved across, headed
in an easterly direction.  The umistakable cloud formation of a raging
rainstorm.  
     "Oh, frack," he whispered as he punched the throttle of his shuttle
to increase his rate of descent.  The cyclones had been bad enough, but
the prospects of a full scale typhon passing over the region would only
be even more devastating.
     As the shuttle passed through the upper atmosphere, he could feel
the craft buffeted slightly by wind currents.  Komma tightened his grip
on the controls, determined to not let himself be thrown off-course. 
     And then...as he passed through a darkened gray cloud, he suddenly
saw it.  Just five kilometrones ahead of him, the ugly funnel cloud
moving rapidly towards him.  
     Komma rapidly turned the control wheel to maneuver the shuttle on a
trajectory that would take him away from the raging cyclone.  But he
could also see another problem.  The cylcone had kicked up enormous
amounts of surface debris which were being spewed back out even at this
high altitude, with each item of debris carrying the potential to be as
deadly as a laser blast from a cannon.
     The corporal decided to try and gain alitude to get above the
cyclone but by now it had grown too close, and he could feel the
buffeting effects of the wind currents preventing him from gaining
altitude.  It was now clear to Komma that he had to take the shuttle down
fast to prevent from being either caught up in the storm or forced down
in a violent out-of-control crash.
     Komma hit the controls that would increase the rate of controlled
descent, alternately glancing back out to see if the cyclone was still
reasonably far away.  And then...his eyes widened in horror when he saw
the unmistakable shape of a Colonial landram headed straight toward him. 
The Security Guard frantically banked to his right, but then felt a
violent jerk as the landram crashed into the rear of the shuttle.
     In an instant, warning lights and alarm sirens filled the shuttle's
interior.  Komma desperately brought the shuttle back to a level
approach, as he looked at the instrument read-out.  The impact had
totally damaged the shuttle's rear thrusters, which already told him one
grim thing.  He might be able to still put the shuttle down safely on the
ground, but after that he was on his own since the shuttle was now
totally incapable of ever leaving the surface again.


     "What do we do now?" Gayla asked, still shaken by the recent
experience of riding out the cyclone.
     "We keep our eyes peeled," Bojay said, "And at the first sign of
anything new, we take shelter again."
     "If only there were some caves or someplace we could stay secure
inside until it was all over."
     "I don't think it's ever going to be over, at this rate," the
captain shook his head.  "I just hope to the Lords that the landrams get
back here safe, and then Komma can pick us all up."
     "You'll have a better chance hoping that their good driving skills
will get them back," Gayla shook her head, "It won't be because of the
fracking Lords or any other felgercarb like that."
     He glanced at her, "Skeptic?"
     "Devout," she managed to pull a cigarello out of her tunic pocket,
and then light it.  Bojay noticed that her hand was shaking.  "As far as
I'm concerned, there are no Lords, and there is no God.  Sorry if that
offends most of the population, but it's just the way I feel."
     "Which I suppose accounts for your salty tongue," he couldn't help
but note.
     Gayla looked at him sharply, "Maybe.  Maybe it's easier to just be
blunt in your choice of words when you're also willing to be blunt about
the whole fracking nature of the universe.  I sure haven't had any reason
to think there's any kind of benevolent deity looking out for me, let
alone the human race."
     "Okay, you've made your point," Bojay now wished the subject had
never come up.  He'd never considered himself particularly religious
either, but he'd never seen this kind of vehemence on the subject from
anyone.  "Let's just stick to the business at hand."
     Gayla nodded, and then her attention went skyward, "Captain, look!"
she pointed.
     Bojay looked up and saw the shuttle descending through the cloud
cover.  The sound of it, and the fact that it was coming in too fast,
immediately told him that the vehicle was in serious trouble.
     "Come on!" he motioned and broke into a sprint.
     The two of them ran across at an angle, trying to bring them close
to where the shuttle would land.  And then, they saw it make a rough
crash landing, utilizing none of its descent brakes.  The vehicle skidded
across the rough, rocky surface before coming to a stop some fifty
metrones away.
     As Bojay and Gayla ran up to it, they saw the hatch blow open, but
no one emerged.  The captain reached it first and hurried inside, looking
frantically toward the cockpit area.
     He could see Komma slumped in the pilot's seat, not moving.  He
hurried over and grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around.  Right
away, he saw that the Security Guard was conscious.  His eyes open in
what seemed like a glassy stare.
     "Komma?" Bojay shook him, "Komma, what happened?"
     The corporal slowly shook his head, "No good," he managed to say,
"Landram...crashed into me."
     "Landram?" Bojay's eyes widened in horror as Gayla stepped inside,
"You mean one of the landrams got caught up in the cyclone."
     "Yeah," he mumbled, "Struck me.  No way this can fly again."
     "Okay," Bojay tried to keep his emotions in check.  "Did you radio
the Galactica?"
     "They know," he still seemed in a stupor, "They know."
     "Captain," Gayla said quietly, "The beacon."
     Bojay turned around and then slowly nodded.  He reached over to the
instrument panel and saw the telltale red switch that would activate the
emergency long-range beacon.  
     "Okay," he said, "At the very least, the Galactica knows where to
home in on us, even if we can't talk to them.  We might as well...sit
tight and use this place as our base unless another cyclone comes up."
     "Not just cyclones," Komma's words were still a mumble, "More.  More
bad weather."
     Bojay looked at him.  "What are you talking about?"
     "Typhon," he said, "Typhon's headed this way.  Probably be here in a
few...centars."
     "Oh, frack," Gayla said loudly, and then decided the worst epithet
was called for, "Frack, felgercarb and shit."
     Bojay now found her profanity appropriate.  "Okay," he said, trying
to get his command edge back, "Okay, let's get to work fixing the
communicator and see if we can still find out which landram is still out
there."
     "Probably all dead by now," Gayla said with disgust.
     "Well until we've got proof of that, I'm not writing anyone in this
group off!" Bojay suddenly snapped, "So in the meantime, why don't you
get your astrum up here and help us with this comm system!"
     The agro-tech allowed herself a faint smile of admiration at his
blunt outburst, "Yes sir, Captain." she said as she came up to the front.

                         Chapter Five

     The instant the word had come down from the Bridge to all on-duty
pilots aboard the Galactica, Apollo wasted little time stepping forward
to take command of the overall operation.  And he also knew that Sheba's
peace of mind would dictate that she be part of the mission team as well.
     It took Apollo five centons to round up several additional members
take part.  Sergeant Mackin, one of Blue Squadron's female pilots that
had first been recruited prior to the Battle of Kobol would co-pilot the
potential rescue shuttle with Apollo.  Sergeant Lomas from Colonial
Security.  And with just a trace of hesitation, he decided on Cassiopeia
as the med-tech.  Perhaps getting away from the Galactica, and focusing
on a mission would help take her own mind off what Starbuck was going
through.  Sheba, he decided, would pilot the viper that would reach the
planet ahead of the shuttle to try and contact the expedition team on the
surface, and reassure them that help was on the way.  At the very least,
that would let her know soonest what the situation was.
     As he and Sheba walked down the corridor that led to the launch bay,
he noticed that his fiancee was keeping a totally professional demeanor. 
Her head held high, her bearing erect as she held her helmet under her
arm, it occurred to Apollo that she now resembled her father more than at
any other time he'd seen her.
     "You should reach the planet about thirty to forty centons ahead of
us," Apollo said, deciding he should go over the procedure one last time,
"Once you're there, maintain your position above their spot, and keep
your unicom on high-beam pointed down at them, scrambler off."   
     "I know," she said simply.  "Hopefully, they'll have the situation
stable by the time we get there.  Maybe they'll be off the surface and we
won't have been needed after all."
     "I'm afraid not," the voice of Colonel Tigh suddenly interrupted
their conversation as he stepped in front of them, from the point where
the corridor entered into the Launch Bay.  The executive officer's face
was grim, "The situation just got worse."
     "What happened?"
     "We just got an emergency beacon activator from the shuttle," Tigh
said, "No way of knowing what happened to it, but it evidently means
there's little chance of them getting off the surface themselves.  It's
going to be up to you to bring them out."
     "Great," Apollo grunted, "I've got the team ready to do it."
     "From what Komma reported, it could be easier said than done," the
executive officer went on, "The weather seems to be deteriorating so
rapidly that trying to set yourselves down safely could carry too much
risk.  Unless you can guarantee your own safety, your orders are going to
be to stand by in orbit until things clear up.  The last thing the
Commander and I want, is to put more people in harm's way."  He paused,
"Have I made myself clear, Captain?"
     Apollo didn't bat an eyelash, "Perfectly, Colonel."
     "Good," Tigh seemed satisfied. "Good luck with the mission."
     As soon as the executive officer was out of sight and earshot, Sheba
let out a disgusted groan, "What chance do we have for good luck, if we
have to play it too careful and potentially see them all die?"
     "Don't sell Bojay's skills short," her fiancee said, "If they have
to ride things out for a bit, they can do it."
     "Apollo," she cut him off, "Do you know what a cyclone can do? 
Especially when you're out in the open and not in an underground
shelter?"
     He had no immediate response.  Growing up in the fashionable suburbs
of Caprica City, along the sea coast, meant that Apollo had never seen a
cyclone in his life, except on amateur video footage shown on the BNC. 
They had always represented a natural phenomena he'd never been able to
fully comprehend the magnitude of, since he never expected to deal with
one at any time in his life.
     "I'm not selling Bojay's skills short," Sheba seemed to clutch her
helmet more tightly, "But this is something that requires more skill,
because you're not dealing with an enemy you can anticipate or get into
the mind of."
     "Granted," Apollo then instinctively touched her shoulder,
"But...let's not go into this assuming the worst."
     "Don't worry," she allowed herself a humorless smile, "I'm
maintaining the fine line between realism and pessimism.  That's all. 
You do the same." she sighed, "Time for me to go.  I'll contact you when
I reach planet orbit."
     She moved off toward her viper, and it made Apollo contemplate for
an instant how just days before their sealing would finally take place,
Sheba was on the verge of going through another difficult personal
trauma.  She'd been through so many of them in recent sectars, including
an experience of being shot up by the Ziklagi, and then injured by a
would-be assassin.  Now, the one person in the Fleet she was closest to
other than himself was in serious danger with no certain guarantee of
rescue.
     Lords, let things be stable after this, he thought as he headed over
to the shuttle, where the rescue team he'd be commanding waited.  We've
all been through enough.


     "Advance viper is already away, sir," Omega reported.  "Shuttle will
follow in another centon."
     "Thank you," Adama acknowledged the Bridge Officer and went back to
the upper level to go over some additional data he'd been consulting. 
The full details of what Corporal Komma had relayed to them about the
planet during his transmission, now commanded his entire attention,
because he knew he'd have to make a decision as to whether the
deteriorating conditions on the planet ruled out any realistic hope of
utilizing the planet's resources.  If there was still going to be some
hope of quickly gathering any, he'd have to make preparations for sending
in support ships as soon as possible.  Under these conditions, that left
him with little time to make a decision.
     The fact that Corporal Komma had experienced some kind of rough
landing that necessitated activating the emergency beacon, was by now
enough to tell Adama that the risk of sending in larger support ships to
the planet surface had the potential for causing greater loss of life if
any of them were caught up in the maelstron of a cyclone.  While he'd
been fortunate to have never experienced one personally, he could still
remember charting the path of one from a survey viper during his Academy
training days, when warriors in training were expected to study weather
patterns and chart their progress to ground installations.  From a safe
distance overhead, the effect had still been a chilling one as to the
power they possessed, and the magnitude of death and destruction they
were capable of inflicting.  But that had just been charting the path of
a single cyclone.  From what Komma had described, there was likely to be
a multitude of cyclones moving across the region of the planet surface. 
Each one coming at unpredictable instances.
     That settled things in his mind.  Once the landing party was
rescued, he had no intention of risking anyone else's life.  The Fleet
would move on and look for an alternate planet to tap resources from. 
And nothing would change his mind on that.  Far better for the likes of
Antipas or Domra to accuse him of being too cautious instead of being too
reckless, if he was going to receive any backlash from his Council
opponents.
     With that decision made, the Commander could now only sit back in
his chair on the upper level, put his fingertips together and wait for
further news.  And he was prepared to wait for however long it might
take.


     The Beta landram team of Lepus, Nestor, Clement and the injured
Demos was finding it difficult to keep moving at top speed.  Winds were
blowing all kinds of dust and debris against the forward windows, causing
Lepus to slow down and activate the fluids that would keep the windows
clear and his view unobstructed.  But he soon found that after a centon,
even the sophisticated cleaning fluids were having little effect.
     He decided to switch to his scanner for full navigation and rely
solely on that.  And then, as he studied the readout, he abruptly brought
the landram to a halt.
     "What's wrong?" Nestor called from the back, where he was still
trying to keep Demos secure.
     "Everything!" Lepus slammed his fist against the scanner in disgust. 
"The whole path that leads back to base camp might as well be a Cylon
minefield with all those weather patterns.  There's multiple cyclones
traversing the entire area and no matter which direction we take, we'll
run smack into one of them sooner or later."
     "So what do we do then?"
     Lepus ignored the med-tech and picked up his unicom, "Beta Landram
to Base.  Do you copy?"
     There was only static.  
     "Beta landram to Base.  Do you copy?" he repeated with an edge of
disgust.
     After only hearing more static, the sergeant put it back in its
mount, "Well, I'll tell you this.  I'm not going to wait to ask for
permission.  We're going back to where we blew those circuits and have a
closer look at them.  The weather's holding more there except for that
one crazy narrow pattern of rain we observed earlier."
     "Sergeant," Nestor moved forward, "Demos needs to-----,"
     "Demos can't get back there, because that region is unpassable, and
since they can't seem to hear us, I don't think the shuttle is in top
condition to get him off the planet anyway," Lepus cut him off.  "So
instead of sitting on our astrums, let's try and do something.  You keep
Demos comfortable and Clement and I will see if something can be done
with those circuits.  Maybe if our blasting the area damaged them and set
off the crazy weather, then maybe there's a way to patch things up and
get it stopped."
     "But----," Nestor started, and then was interrupted by Clement.  
     "I'm with you on that," the mining expert said.  "If we can find out
where those relay circuits lead to, then maybe there's some kind of
central station where we can have an easier time figuring out how this
all works."
     "Then let's get going," Lepus immediately put the landram into
reverse and began moving it back in the direction they'd been coming
from.


     "Okay," Bojay said as he and Gayla worked over the shuttle's damaged
communication system.  Komma was still recovering from the effects of his
crash landing on one of the passenger seats.  "Now move that green wire
and put the plug into the center outlet...no, frack, center outlet! 
That's the left outlet, can't you see?"
     Gayla looked at him in disgust, "No, I couldn't.  I'm an agro-tech,
not an electronics-tech, Captain.  Try to remember that, if you please."
     "Yeah, yeah," he said impatiently, "I know it looks like an Aquarian
puzzle at first glance.  But we've got to get this back up and running as
fast as we can."
     "You sure have a knack for stating the obvious," Gayla said as she
got down on her knees and took a closer look.
     Behind them, Komma sat up and gently made his way forward, trying to
ignore the throbbing pain in his forehead, "Um...Captain, maybe I
should-----,"
     Bojay turned around, "Are you still feeling dizzy?"
     "Yeah, but----,"
     "Then you're not working on this," Bojay cut him off.  "Dizziness
means impaired faculties and fogged up vision, and that means I'd rather
have an amateur with a clear head working on something this delicate with
me instead.  But if you do feel up to it, step outside and keep your eyes
peeled for anything we need to watch out for, like another cyclone."
     Komma shook his head to try and recover his faculties more,
"Captain, I don't think I should go outside."
     Bojay looked up and saw the telltale signs of raindrops hitting the
forward windows of the shuttle.
     "Okay," the captain said, "Just sit tight until you feel better.  If
you're needed for something, I'll ask."
     "Yes sir," Komma mumbled and went back to the passenger seat,
dropping down into it.
     "It's in," Gayla got up.  "Assuming what you said is right, the
systems should work now."
     "Okay, let's give it a try," Bojay said as he activated the switch. 
The green light suddenly came on, indicating that it was once again
working, and ready for use.  "Well done, Gayla."
     "Thanks," she smiled, feeling a small trace of pride that she'd
gotten the job done, despite her inexperience in this field.
     As Bojay prepared to transmit, he suddenly realized that if one of
the landrams had struck the shuttle during its descent, then he would
soon know which landram it had been the instant he heard a response from
the other one.  And that would mean he'd know who was likely dead now.
     "Base to Alpha and Beta Landrams.  Either of you report?"
     There was no response, but the active burst of static indicated that
the equipment was indeed working and had been successfully repaired.
     "Alpha Landram, Beta Landram, this is Base.  Do you copy?"
     A half centon of anxious waiting filled the damaged shuttle
interior, until finally they heard the response.  "This is Beta Landram,
Base.  Where have you been?"
     The sound of Lepus's voice immediately made Bojay think of the
members of Alpha Landram.  Thomson, Jacob, Pili.  Were they all dead now? 
And even if they weren't, how would they ever be able to find them?
     "Fill you in later on the details, Lepus," Bojay said, "Shuttle is
damaged and grounded.  We'll likely have to wait for help from the
Galactica.  Return to Base immediately."
     "Negative," Lepus said firmly, "Route back to Base is impassable on
our end by storm patterns.  We're going back to our contact point and see
if we can fix those relay systems we damaged."
     Bojay's eyebrows went up, while Gayla let out a mirthless chuckle to
indicate her surprise.  Behind them, Komma gingerly stood up again.
     "Lepus," Bojay said, "You couldn't possibly begin to do that..."
     "We'll know that only if we have a look, won't we?  Come on,
Captain, we've got nothing else we can do except find a place to hide,
and I'm not up for doing that."
     "Sergeant, we need to have this entire landing party back together
as soon as possible.  I am not going to let you take a lot of time to go
over some kind of alien technology and risk your lives needlessly,
especially when you've got one wounded man already."
     "We aren't putting Demos in danger," Lepus said, "If anything,
trying to take this thing back to Base through the patterns we're picking
up would be more of a risk to us than going back to where we were."
     Bojay knew he had to take charge fast, "Okay," he said, "I'll let
you go back only because the route back to us is impassable for now, but
you get this straight, Sergeant.  You can kill the time waiting looking
at those relay systems, but you're to have one man constantly monitor the
route back, and the instant it's clear, you are to drop everything and
get your astrums back here.  I don't care what else you find or are about
to find at that instant, you move.  Because you might as well know that
in addition to what's causing us trouble now, we've got a typhon that
will probably move in within the next couple centars.  Is that
understood?"
     "Yes sir," Lepus said obediently.  "We'll move.  Beta Landram out."
     Bojay put the unicom back in its mount and shook his head in
amazement, "Everyone always wants to be a hero and do the crazy thing."
     "I thought that always came instinctively to warriors," Gayla said
as she stretched herself.
     "Only to those who aren't in command," Bojay said, "When you've got
responsibility for others, you suddenly become more mindful of how being
by-the-book isn't always a bad idea."
     "And then all of a sudden, it's follow the straight and narrow path,
right?" she smirked as she continued to stretch herself.  And Bojay
suddenly found himself noticing how attractive she was even in her dirty
and disheveled condition from their recent ordeal with the cyclone.  But
he knew that now was not the time to dwell on that at all.
     "I guess so," he decided not to try for any kind of witty retort,
"Do me a favor.  Concentrate our scanner in the direction of where Alpha
Landram was investigating and see if you can pick up any life forms.  The
landram's clearly gone, but maybe they got out of it in time."
     Gayla stopped stretching herself and the smirk faded from her face,
as if she just now remembered the magnitude of the situation, and how
three people from the landing party were conceivably dead.  "Sure," she
said quietly, "I can do that."
     "Thanks," Bojay went over to Komma, who was still seated in the
passenger area. "Feeling any better?"
     "My vision isn't fogged," the corporal said, "Just a lousy headache,
that's all."
     "Then here's something you can do," the captain said, "Go back to
the rear compartment and make sure the emergency power circuits are at
full strength.  We're going to have to tap every last ounce of them to
keep our com-lines and scanners functioning."
     "Yes sir," Komma said, wondering for an instant if there was an
ulterior motive for why Bojay would ask him to go into the next
compartment.  But even if that was so, it didn't matter to him since he
felt better just having something to do at this point.
     As soon as the security guard had disappeared into the next
compartment, Bojay sat down in the pilot seat next to Gayla, who had her
eye trained on the scanner and was making minute adjustments to
concentrate its beam in designated areas.
     "We're getting some more interference from the storms in that
region," she said, "I don't think it can be overridden enough to pick up
individual human life forms.  Not unless it clears up a bit."
     "Okay," he nodded, "The instant something comes up though, I'm going
to go out to wherever they are and lead them back in."
     Gayla turned to him and smirked once again, "You just proved your
theory wrong, Captain.  It looks like even in command, you want to do the
crazy thing and be the hero if you feel you must."
     Bojay looked at her and then allowed himself a chuckle, "Yeah, I
guess you're right.  We're not always...consistent."
     "I never figured you meant what you said anyway," Gayla said as she
looked back at the scanner.  "You're...a pretty easy person to read,
Captain.  You're definitely a warrior who believes in taking some
unorthodox initiatives and to non-existent Hades with the fracking book
if that's what it takes."
     He chuckled at how her devout skepticism made her use the term
"non-existent" when using the word "Hades" in any kind of context.  "Is
that one of your other talents?  Knowing how to read people beneath their
exteriors?"
     She smirked again, but this time with a mirthless edge, "I used to
think I had a talent for knowing people well and what they were really
like.  About three sectars ago, I found out I didn't." the smirk then
faded, "Don't ask me about it."
     "I won't," Bojay said, realizing it had to have been a very painful
experience for Gayla, whatever it had been.  But it certainly wasn't any
of his business.  Just as the thing that had been bothering him before
the mission about Sheba and the wedding ceremony wasn't any of her
business or anyone else's.  
     And as he found himself thinking about Sheba and the wedding for the
first time since before he'd landed on the planet, he wondered what was
going through her mind right now.  And whether this experience of
contemplating the possibility of himself dying might...
     He abruptly shook his head and stopped his mind from going any
further.  That had not only been a terrible thought to contemplate, but a
foolish one as well.  Sheba's concern for his well-being was always going
to be in a purely fraternal context.  He couldn't harbor any fantasies
about Sheba changing her feelings.  Especially not in the context of what
was happening now when his only concern had to be about getting everyone
back to the Galactica safely.
     He pointed at the scanner, "Readjust the beam another eight degrees,
and see if it's better in that region."
     Gayla dutifully did so, and as Bojay looked at the screen, he found
a reminder of how he could never be like the agro-tech when it came to
matters of faith.  Because right now, he felt an overwhelming urge to
pray that Thomson, Jacob and Pili were somewhere out there and still
alive.


     Thomson had no idea how much time elapsed from the time he'd seen
the landram caught up in the winds of the maelstrom with Jacob still
clinging to the side, and the cyclone had passed nearby.  It almost
seemed like an eternity to him.  The kind of eternity, where everything
seemed like a state of unreality, and if he concentrated hard enough he'd
find that it had all been a bad dream, and things would be back to the
normality he'd once known.
     When he felt the tug on his shoulder, and heard Pili's broken voice,
"Thom-son?" he finally got the cold jolt that told him it was all too
real.  Jacob was gone, and nothing could be done about it.  The man who'd
been his designated partner in Colonial Security for the better part of a
yahren now, was dead.  He had to accept that, and get back to the matter
at hand which was making sure he and Pili got back to the Base camp still
alive.
     Slowly, he managed to roll over so he could see the Kian, "You
okay?"
     She nodded and brushed away the locks of red hair that had fallen
across her face.  As she brushed it back, he had a chance to glimpse her
forehead, which had always been concealed by the thickness of her hair,
and finally saw the one superficial difference between the Kians and the
Colonials.  The ridged forehead was a feature that for most human eyes
would have marred her appearance completely.  Which perhaps explained why
Pili had let her hair grow so thick in the front to keep it hidden from
view.  Part of a desire to assimilate more into Colonial society.
     I should probably recommend a good surgeon who could make it look
normal, he thought idly as he got to his feet and then helped her up.
     "Okay," he took a breath.  "Okay, we...move on and try to make our
way back."
     "Terrible," Pili whispered, "Evil One's sign.  When Evil One
appears, nothing safe."
     "We'll be safe," he took her hand and said reassuringly, "We'll get
back fine.  Somehow." he lifted a hand to his forehead and scanned the
distance.  And then he realized that in the futile effort to take the
landram clear of the cyclone's path, they had been forced to alter their
heading away from the direction back to Base.  Now, without any scanning
equipment, their bearings had become completely lost and they had no
clear sense of which direction to go.
     Well isn't that just fracking lovely? He thought as his mind
sarcastically parodied the lyrics of a popular song from Caprican musical
theater.  With the weather all fracked up, and no clue as to where we
should go, how do you stay safe?  What can you realistically do under
these circumstances?
     "Thomson," Pili suddenly pointed, "Look there.  Shel-ter."
     He looked to his left and saw that the Kian was pointing to a
recessed opening underneath the hills that resembled a cave.
     Figures that she'd notice something like that, he thought.  Then
again, he had to admit that if the weather was going to remain as bad as
it already was, it might not be a bad idea to dig in for now in a more
formidable shelter area than their makeshift one in the open had been. 
Yet at the same time, it didn't sit well with him to not take some
definitive action to get back to Base.
     Decision time, Sergeant.  And keep in mind that it's not just your
own life that's at risk, you're also responsbile for hers.  And
ultimately, he knew that was why he had to go against his instincts for
taking action and see to it that Pili was safe for now.  That meant
taking up her offer that they utilize the cave until the situation
improved.
     He suddenly had the sense of everything becoming eerily quiet once
again, and it made the hair on his neck stand up.  Glancing up, he could
see the sky darkening once again, and then he felt a breeze suddenly pick
up and blow against his cheek.
     "Okay, Pili," he said, "Lead the way!"
     They stepped over the rock piles  and he began following her in the
direction of the cave, situated some hundred metrones further down the
hill formation from where they'd been.  At first, they only moved at a
normal walk.  But as Thomson felt the wind start to pick up and felt a
raindrop at his back, he turned around and his eyes widened at the sight
of another cyclone, smaller in size from the last one, but no less
formidable, suddenly heading in their direction.
     "Run!" he suddenly shouted.  "Run!"
     Pili turned back and the look of terror came over her as she saw it. 
She broke into a fast run, and then she suddenly shed her jacket as she
continued to move.  Thomson increased his stride, but he didn't want to
overtake her.  Behind him, he could hear that low rumbling noise, that
everyone always described as just like an express hovercraft.  The noise
picked up in intensity as the cave loomed closer.  He finally saw Pili
enter the dark opening, and that was suddenly the only time Thomson felt
fear because to him, nothing would be more frightening than the prospect
of the cave being so close, and then suddenly at the last instant he
would feel the power of the cyclone carry him away from safety and to
death, just like it had been with Jacob.
     But luck or the Lords, he wasn't sure which, were with him this time
as he reached the opening and ran in as far as he could go.  He found
that the cave was a good fifteen metrones deep and was far away from the
opening to act as a natural barrier against the elements outside.
     Pili had likewise huddled herself against the rear wall, the look of
terror on her face quite palpable.  Since Pili clearly attached some kind
of evil religious significance to a cyclone, he knew that she was not
going to feel the same degree of security inside the cave that he now
felt.
     "Evil One comes," she whispered, "Evil One not leave."
     "You're going to be okay, Pili," he touched her shoulder again to
offer support, "It's not going to harm you."
     "Soon." Pili whispered again, and then abruptly dropped to her knees
and began to perform the soft, ritual incantations he'd heard her do
inside the landram before they'd abandoned it.  It was clearly in her
native tongue, since he didn't understand a single word of what she was
saying.
     He decided to leave her be for now in whatever comfort her own
religion could provide her.  Moving away from her, he could hear the
noise of the cyclone receding, indicating that it had moved past.  It was
now safe to venture forward.
     And then suddenly, in front of his eyes and without any warning, he
saw several large trees drop from the sky in front of the cave opening,
totally blocking their ability to exit from it.  Stunned, he backed away
and then heard a loud noise indicating that more objects that had been
caught up in the latest cyclone had also been deposited in front of the
cave.  And then, the low moaning of what sounded like the bovines who had
been roaming the area not too long ago.  Then, abruptly the moaning
ceased, indicating that the animal that had been caught up in the storm
was now dead.
     Slowly, he shook his head and tried to contemplate the magnitude of
what he and Pili now faced.  The two of them were sealed inside the cave
with no comm links to contact the outside world and no apparent way of
getting out.

                         Chapter Six

     After launching from the Galactica, Sheba was only required to make
one immediate report and then assume radio silence until she reached
planet orbit, where she would then attempt to make contact with the
stranded landing party.  With the rescue shuttle lagging behind by a good
forty centons, that meant she'd be alone with her thoughts for now. 
Which suited her fine, since she really didn't feel in a talkative mood. 
Even Apollo's attempt at reassurance before she'd left hadn't sat well
with her, because it struck her as the kind of thing borne more out of
concern for her inner psyche than a realistic attempt by a professional
warrior to look at the situation as it existed, and then act accordingly.
     I know the risks, Apollo, she thought to herself.  I'm concerned for
his well-being because he's a brother to me, but if the worst happens, I
will deal with it!  Don't sell me short just because I've had more
traumas than I'd care to remember recently.
     And then she found herself thinking it odd that she would carry such
an attitude within her.  She could remember a time not too long ago when
in the wake of her involvement with the apprehension of Tabor, and the
near trauma of seeing her soon-to-be legal son killed, and suffering a
humiliating trip to the Life Station, she had gone off to the Celestial
Dome to vent.  To express her frustration over going through so many
traumas at a time when there should only have been joy in her life over
her pending wedding to Apollo, that was now only three cycles away.  And
how after a few centons of reflection, she had felt some wonderful change
come over her.  As if some unknown force had been able to provide her
with some much needed spiritual peace at a time when she desperately
needed it.  And with it, a reassurance that there would be no more
traumas for her to deal with in the time leading up to the wedding.
     Did that just mean nothing would happen to me, though? Sheba mused. 
And that when it came to those I feel so close to, something bad could
still happen?
     But even if there had been some kind of qualifier to all that, she
still found herself at peace, and prepared to handle whatever came.  She
would let herself be optimistic that Bojay's natural skills as a warrior
would get him and the others through it, and at the same time, be
realistic about the dangers he faced and what it could mean.
     "Never get too sure of yourself," she could hear her father's words
of advice from many yahrens ago in her head.  "Always know when you're
about to cross the line between feeling good about your instincts, and
losing your sense of good judgment."
     The irony was that Sheba knew that Commander Cain didn't always
practice what he preached.  Perhaps it was because he knew that he
sometimes took his own genius for granted too much, and because he knew
how much his daughter had inherited his temperament, that he wanted to at
least keep her reined in just a bit.  Whatever the case, it was the kind
of advice Sheba knew she had to call upon in this situation right now.
     She activated her long-range tracking, which was set to the
frequency of the shuttle's emergency beacon.  In another twenty centons,
she'd be in planet orbit and in position to contact them.  And she was
determined that she'd hear an answer from them once she arrived.


     "Well?" Bojay asked with a slightly anxious edge.
     Gayla shook her head, "You can read it as good as I can, Captain. 
No fracking trace of them.  If their landram was caught up in the
cyclone, chances are they were all still inside it."
     "We don't just let the safe odds dictate our thinking, especially
when it comes to people's lives," the captain's tone grew frosty.  "I'm
not writing them off until I see corpses.  So to use your own way of
speaking, keep your fracking eyes open."
     She smirked at him, "Hey, you're talking to someone who'll never be
blinded again."
     As the agro-tech went back to looking at the scanner, Bojay couldn't
help but think that Gayla was trying to get him to prod about the thing
she had insisted he not ask her about.  But he wasn't in the mood to bite
on that.  Not yet at least, when there were more important things to
consider.
     Like all the brooding you've been doing about Sheba? he thought. 
And he had to admit that during these idle centons when there had been no
new information coming in, and all there'd been was the sound of the
raindrops increasing their drumlike pattern on the damaged shuttle
exterior, he hadn't done much else.  
     At what centon did I blow my chance for good to let her know how
I've always felt about her?  He found himself thinking for perhaps the
fiftieth time that day.  It had to have been after Gomorrah, when we both
found ourselves cut off from the Pegasus for good.  That was when I
should have told her.  When she was all upset about losing her father,
and Apollo wasn't even a factor at all with her.  Why didn't I say
something?
     "...Galactica shuttle this is Red Two.  Acknowledge."
     Am I going nuts?  Bojay thought.  Am I actually hearing her voice
right now?
     "Captain!" Gayla exclaimed.  "Someone's making contact with us!"
     Abruptly, Bojay snapped back to reality and grabbed the unicom,
scarcely believing it.  "Uh...yeah!  Red Two, this is Galactica shuttle. 
We copy you on ah...you're on Hi-Gain?" he checked the control panel.
     "Affirmative," Sheba's voice sounded professional, but clearly
relieved, "Glad to hear you, Bojay.  What's your status?"
     "We're ah...we're grounded."   He recovered himself.  "Shuttle is
damaged, and incapable of reaching flight.  Emergency batteries
functioning to let us communicate and scan."
     "Casualties?"
     "Unknown.  Ah...landing party is scattered right now.  I'm with
Agro-tech Gayla and Corporal Komma here in the shuttle at our main base
camp.  Beta Landram with Med-tech Nestor, technicians Demos and Clement
and Sergeant Lepus is accounted for, but Demos has suffered injuries. 
Alpha Landram with Sergeant Thomson, Corporal Jacob and Technician Pili
is unaccounted for."
     "Weather situation?"
     "Bad," Bojay said.  "We've had recurring cyclones.  Right now, rain
is picking up in our area.  We also estimate arrival of full-force typhon
within a few centars."
     "I can confirm that from my position," Sheba said, "Typhon is moving
across western perimeter of what was the safe zone.  ETA to your position
in another...140 centons.  And that's just for the outer bands.  In
another 200 centons, you'll have the eyewall passing right over your
position."
     "Thanks a lot," Bojay grunted, "That's one real nice computer you've
got up there."
     "I'm going to be holding my position in standard orbit and keep
monitoring the weather patterns in your section.  That way you can
conserve your batteries for more important things and let me relay all
the significant weather data to you."
     "Copy that.  Can you scan for lifeforms beyond our vicinity?  I want
to make sure all members of the team are accounted for.  We can't boost
the signal to get a proper readout from our end."
     "Give me a few centons and I'll try to relay that back," Sheba said,
her voice staying professional.  "A rescue shuttle is about forty centons
behind me and will take all of you out."
     "That's good," Bojay said, "But under no circumstances should you
let them land here unless the entire landing party is accounted for. 
It's going to be bad enough making one landing in these conditions. 
Making multiple landings is going to be too much of a risk."
     "Captain Apollo will make the final decision on that," Sheba said,
"He's piloting the shuttle and in command of the overall operation."
     For just a faint micron, Bojay's face grew slightly crestfallen.  At
an instant where he felt so reassured to hear Sheba's voice, he had to
get another reminder of how she'd been lost to him, and the whole flap
about the wedding ceremony.  Damn it all, he thought for no good reason. 
I would have to find myself rescued by Apollo when all was said and done.
     "We'll stand by for now," Silver Spar Leader finally spoke with the
professionalism that was expected at a time like this, "Thanks for
showing up.  It's a real good morale booster."
     "Anytime," he could tell from Sheba's voice that she was smiling. 
"And in the meantime, here's another morale booster for you.  When you
get back, each member of the landing party gets free drinks for the next
sectan."
     "It better be Proteus Collection ambrosia!" Bojay allowed himself to
chuckle.  "Galactica shuttle standing by for now."
     "Acknowledged.  Red Two standing by."
     Bojay slowly put the unicom back in place and smiling ironically,
shook his head.
     "I got the distinct impression that pilot is a special friend of
yours."
     He looked at Gayla, who had a bemused expression, as if she'd been
studying him for some time.  Instantly, it made Bojay blush with
embarrassment.
     "Oh...well you see..." he then decided it was pointless to con
someone with such a blunt way with words.  "Yeah, she's special."
     Gayla smiled thinly and then cocked her head toward the back, "Since
the good Corporal seems to be well-occupied in the rear compartment,
maybe you and I can...talk openly about other things.  Seeing as how
nothing else is happening that we can do anything about."
     "True," Bojay admitted, although he wished something would happen
that would keep them from talking.  He looked out the forward windows and
saw that the rain was now so intense, he could see barely more than a few
metrones in front of him.  "I guess the scanner's showing even less of
nothing now," he said offhandedly.
     "You got that right," Gayla said, having a sense that they would
soon be discussing less official matters.  "The weather's fracked up
things to the point where we can't scan more than a few metrones past
where we can see.  And since we've got a viper overhead to scan the
weather and lifeforms for us, we might as well just shift all power to
communications and life support."
     "Agreed," Bojay reached down and activated the switches that would
concentrate all power to those areas.  He then picked up the unicom and
activated the internal communications setting.  "Komma, how's things back
there?"
     There was a brief pause before the corporal answered, "All reserve
batteries operating at max power...no trace of damage from crash.  The
main structural damage is aft of me.  The tail compartment where we
normally keep the landrams has been breeched.  There's a bit of
structural weakness between that area and this compartment.  If it goes,
then our reserve batteries will be exposed to the elements and all the
felgercarb outside now."
     "Oh great," the captain wrinkled his nose, "Komma, keep your eye on
that.  We can't let the batteries go, because we've made contact with a
rescue team from the Galactica, and we've got to keep that line open. 
And also so Beta Landram can stay in touch with us."
     "Copy."
     "If that area breeches, then the rain outside will short out the
batteries in probably half a centon," Bojay said as he put the unicom
down.  
     "Is there real danger of that happening?" Gayla asked.
     "In these conditions, yes," Bojay said.  "Especially once the wind
from that typhon picks up, or if another cyclone bears down on us." he
shook his head, "What a fracking joke this planet is."
     "Well, you were the one who recommended a survey of it, as I recall
from the briefing," Gayla cracked.
     "Yeah, so I was.  I wish I'd done otherwise."
     "And left you to deal with other matters, right?" Gayla decided now
was the time to seize the opportunity.  "Like...your friend up there?"
     Bojay looked at her, "You really want to get me to share my personal
secrets with you, don't you?"
     "Hey, the way you acted when you heard her voice would have made
anyone curious.  If I were one of your normal, fracking male buddies you
fly around with, I'd be asking the same thing because you did such a
lousy job of concealing your emotions when you probably should have,
which can only mean this is a major problem of concern to you, given the
gravity of what we're all going through right now, and which should under
normal circumstances be chasing any other thoughts from your mind."
     Bojay shook his head in amazement.  Gayla had read through him
completely, and he had to admit she was right.  He had done a lousy job
of concealing his feelings when they should have stayed concealed. 
     So, amidst the increasingly deafening sound of the rain hitting the
shuttle exterior, he began to carefully tell her just what had been on
his mind.


     As soon as their landram returned to the site of the accidental
explosion, Lepus and Clement wasted little time getting to work with a
full examination of the seemingly ruined circuits and relay cables.  The
mining expert had his micro-scanner aimed at where the circuitry was less
scorched from blast damage and seemingly more intact, an intense look on
his face.  As Lepus waited for Clement to say something, the security
guard couldn't help but look up and notice how in this region, the
weather was perfectly normal and calm.  As if nothing out of the ordinary
were taking place nearby at all.
     "I'm beginning to realize why our own scanners didn't detect these
relays underneath the tylium deposits," Clement finally spoke.  "The
safety coating they use to protect it from detection is comprised of
neutrino.  The neutrino properties are the purest samples I've ever seen,
and that was totally unheard of in any of the Colonies.  Our deposits
always had some kind of impurities in the composition."
     Lepus stepped forward and frowned, "Neutrino is a substance that's
supposed to be impervious to firepower as well as scanning.  How could
one of our charges compromise the integrity of the coating?"
     "That's what I'm trying to figure out," Clement said, "Best guess I
can make is the properties designed to keep it safe from firepower have
been decaying due to advanced age.  Neutrino coating doesn't last
forever, and it could be when you've got an explosion that happened in
this close proximity, that just might have caused its safety properties
to collapse entirely."
     "Advanced age?  How old?"
     Clement turned around and looked at him, "My guess is at a minimum,
seven thousand yahrens."
     "Incredible," Lepus shook his head, "Okay, now that we've figured
out why it's damaged, let's see if there's any way we can fix this
stuff."


     It took several centons for Thomson to recover himself from the
shock of seeing the cave's only exit point sealed off by the giant trees
that had been deposited in front of it.  He dimly made his forward to see
if the foliage was a kind that could still be penetrated, but after
sticking his hand through it, he felt the giant thickness of a trunk that
he realized made any hope of passing through impossible.
     "Frack," he whispered and then repeated the word with a shout,
"Frack!"
     He turned around and made his way back where he saw Pili still on
her knees, her head bowed and her voice murmurring the seemingly endless
ritaul incantations.  The sound was starting to grate on Thomson's nerves
and he had to stifle the desire to tell her to shut up.  Instead, he
watched her continue her ritual for another centon, before she finally
grew silent and then suddenly raised her head and stretched out her arms,
as if she were now trying to reach out to a higher being for help.
     Finally, she rose to her feet and looked at Thomson, "Bad," she
said.  "Evil One strong.  I pray for deliverance."
     "Thanks a lot," he said dryly, trying not to sound sarcastic.  
     "Must look for path," Pili said.  "Cave might be like home."
     Thomson lifted an eyebrow, "What do you mean?  You mean this is like
the kind of cave on your home planet?"
     "Might be," Pili repeated as she then extended her arms and palms
out in a way that almost looked a pantomime gesture of placing hands on a
solid wall that really wasn't there.  Suddenly, she kicked off her shoes,
and then began to remove her outer tunic.
     "Hey, wait a micron, what are you-----," Thomson started.  Before he
could finish, she had tossed it aside and the security guard suddenly
noticed that she was wearing the skimpy animal skins of her native
planet, underneath her Colonial attire.  Dumbfounded, he watched her
remove the rest of her Colonial garments until finally she looked as she
must have all her life on Ki.  
     "Better," Pili said as she stretched herself, "Too much clothes bad
for movement.  Must move freely, especially here.  I understand better if
cave like home if I feel like home."  She shook her head, "I never like
clothes Colonial women wear under outer garments.  Always wear ones from
home."
     Great, he thought sarcastically.  What I need most right now is a
professional colleague who can give me some serious advice, and instead I
get a glorified Skorpian strip show!  He was convinced that Pili's
primitive mind was rendering her the greatest liability he ever could
have thought she'd be on a mission like this.  And it only made him wish
right now that it had been her, and not Jacob, who'd been carried away by
the cyclone to a horrible death.
     Her palms still outstretched, Pili began to move off to one side,
alternately raising them, and then noticably smelling the air.  Suddenly,
she broke into a smile.
     "The gods be praised," the Kian said brightly, "There is path.  This
like home."
     "Where?" Thomson demanded, not impressed by her resort to primitive
religious instincts, "And what kind of path?"
     "One leads elsewhere," she motioned, "Air has fresh smell in this
area.  This like cave on Ki that led to ancestral tunnel."
     "Ancestral tunnel?" the security guard's bewilderment deepened. 
"What are you talking about?"
     Pili frowned, "I not clear?  Thought my words specific."
     "Not to me." Thomson shook his head.  "Give me more specific words."
     "Sorry.  My mother, great LoreSpeaker of tribe, told me when child
how ancestors who settled Ki from great island Gho-bal, built many cities
and com-plexes where they..." she seemed to struggle for her next words,
"Made things, func-tion.  Mother once took me to cave that had path that
led to such place.  But place where raptons young hatched.  Too dangerous
to explore.  I never saw ancestral tunnel.  But remember always how
smelled.  Could still breathe even far from cave entrance, because
ancestral tunnel there.  Like now!" she suddenly pointed across the
bridge of Thomson's nose.  Slowly the security guard turned and noticed a
darkened recess that obviously lead deeper into the cave's interior.  To
him, it looked evil and foreboding.  A place to avoid at all costs. 
Especially since he was without an illuminator or a microscan device, and
couldn't possibly keep his bearings straight if he ventured into that
wall of darkness.  
     But what other choice do I have?  He thought.  She'll go in there
alone, and if I don't go with her, how could I handle that on my
conscience?  And besides, the only other thing I could do back here, is
just wait and hope I could shout to the rest of the landing party if they
happened to pass by the entrance, and given what the weather is like out
there, and how unlikely it is they'd pass close enough to hear me even if
the weather wasn't so bad, those are the kind of odds even Starbuck would
pass on!
     So with the greatest of reluctance, he let out a sigh and then
nodded, "Okay, Pili.  Lead the way."
     The Kian sprang across the cave surface, seemingly nimbler and with
greater agility now that she'd shed her Colonial garments, and moved
toward the darkness.  "I sense good," she spoke brightly, "We find
so-lu-tion."
     If you're right, Thomson thought dryly as he followed her, you'll
end up converting me to your religion before this is all over.


     Bojay did his best to telescope the nature of what he'd been going
through with Sheba, and the awkward dilemma he'd been thrust into
regarding the wedding.  The fewer details he could reveal, the better
from his standpoint, and maybe Gayla would decide to drop the
conversation altogether.  After a few centons though, it seemed clear
that the agro-tech wasn't about to do it.
     "So if I understand you correctly," she said, "This Sheba didn't
drop you or anything.  You'd never said a word to her all those yahrens."
     "Yeah." Bojay looked away from her, wishing he had a view out the
window other than increasing sheets of rain obscuring the landscape.
     "Then I don't really have any sympathy for you," Gayla said, "No one
wronged you.  There isn't anyone to be mad at but yourself."
     He looked at her, "Don't you think I know that?  I never blamed her
for anything."
     "Yet you seem to have this desire to get even with her by not
honoring a simple request to be the stand-in for her father."
     "That has nothing to do with getting even."
     "That's how it comes across," Gayla settled back in her chair,
casting another glance at the scanner to make sure nothing had happened
in the meantime.  "Who gets hurt because you won't do this one thing at
her sealing ceremony?  She does.  And all because you're mad at yourself? 
Sounds pretty weak if you ask me.  She asked you to be a stand-in because
of what you've meant to her as a brother figure.  How was she supposed to
know you'd been carrying a torch for her all these yahrens?"
     "You've made your point," he said icily.  An uneasy silence filled
the interior of the shuttle, and then the unicom sprang to life.
     "Red Two to Galactica shuttle," Sheba's voice came through clearly. 
"Acknowledge."
     Bojay gingerly picked the unicom up.  "This is Alpha Shuttle.  We
copy."
     "Update on typhon progress.  ETA now 130 centons to outer band, 170
to eyewall.  Have Beta Landram scanned and pinpointed in clear zone
approximately 18 kilometrones southwest of your position.  Area back to
you is impassable by storm and cyclone activity, but all of them staying
clear of both your positions for now.  No need to take cover."
     "Thanks," Bojay said, "Any signs of additional lifeforms?"
     "Negative," her voice was professsional, but still managed to
indicate sympathy.  "But the areas where the weather's at its worse is
even obscuring data on my scanners.  Can't give definite info on their
status."
     "Understood.  ETA to rescue shuttle?"
     "Fifteen centons.  Captain Apollo will contact you on Hi-Gain and
you can start coordinating strategy then.  I'll stay patched in with the
weather info."
     "Thanks," for an instant he hesitated as if he wanted to make a
personal aside, but then thought better of it, "Standing by."
     He put the unicom down and looked back at Gayla, who was shaking her
head.
     "Well?" the captain's tone was testy.
     "I can tell just from her voice alone why you fell for her," the
agro-tech said, "And I can also tell that she doesn't deserve your
lame-astrum behavior.  If you really care for her that much, swallow your
fracking pride and do it."
     "Easy for you to say that," Bojay turned away from her again. "It's
not your pride."
     "Maybe not," the edge then faded from her voice, "But I've had my
pride hurt a lot worse than yours ever has been.  Believe me."
     Bojay looked at her and noticed that her features had softened
somewhat.  For the first time, there was an almost vulnerable quality to
Gayla that had never been present before.
     "I take it this is the centon when you tell me you've got a more
painful story in your past, that really makes me look like a petty
snitrad."
     "You could say that," Gayla said.  "If you think your experience was
bad, just be glad you didn't marry her and then find out five yahrens
later she'd already been married to someone else, and had been carrying
on a double life the whole time."
     Bojay's eyes widened in disbelief at what she said.  His mind then
started to race back more than a sectar to a chat with Starbuck in the
Officers Club and then he snapped his fingers.  "Wait a centon." he then
paused as if he was trying to be sure before saying it.  "Chief Twilly?"
     "His reputation now precedes him, I take," Gayla said with an air of
disdain.  And then she lowered her head as if to hide the bitterness from
her expression, "Rotten piece of bilge scum."
     "I only know the general story.  Nothing about either of his..." he
then hesitated.
     "Wives," Gayla said bluntly, "Wives, Captain.  Well I was wife
number two.  The one he found daring and reckless, which was a nice
contrast to soft and gentle wife number one.  He thought he could split
himself into two personalities and enjoy the experience of two different
women, one for each personality, and keep it going if both wives were far
apart.  Well, that changed when wife number one got assigned to the
Agro-Ship, where I was already working.  And I guess you know the rest." 
 She shook her head, "Funny thing is, his other wife and I, we actually
became good friends for a while.  I knew she was as much a victim as I
was, and there was nothing wrong with her.  We were both working together
in the hydroponics section, and after we got our seals to Twilly
dissolved we thought we could have a nice chummy working relationship,
but after awhile it just got too awkward.  She was too sentimental, and
sometimes she'd start talking about Twilly and old times, and I just
didn't want to hear any of it.  I finally had to transfer out of
hydroponics so we could at least part on cordial terms."
     She looked Bojay in the eye, "I've tried to move on from it, and I
like to think I have, but I'm always going to be scarred by it, because
what Twilly did hurt my pride more than anything you could ever have
imagined.  I was never the kind of person who believed in marriage and
commitment before I'd met Twilly, but he'd made me give it a try, and
then I found out it was a giant fraud.  I don't know if I'll ever be able
to give committment a try again, thanks to him.  So in my case, I can be
bitter because I can blame someone who hurt me, but you, Bojay.  You're
not even close to that.  You'll find a way to move on, beacuse you have
to.  I can pretty much figure that you're a decent enough guy who'd never
think of trying to seduce Sheba after she becomes a married woman, so
that means eventually you'll try to find someone else again.  You were
hurt, but you weren't scarred.  Never forget that."  Gayla took a breath. 
"If Twilly ever invited me to another of his sealings, I'd tell him to go
to non-existent Hades.  But as for you...just swallow your damned pride
and make Sheba happy.  Let her think it's a clean slate between the two
of you as friends, which is all you'll ever be with her."
     Bojay said nothing for a centon, as Gayla slouched back in her
chair, pulling her legs up and letting her chin rest on her knees.  Even
in the dim light of the interior, he could see the pain and bitterness
that ultimately said a lot about why she was what she was now.
     I guess if I'd gone through something like that, I'd be inclined to
curse Fate and the Lords and refuse to believe in them too, Bojay
thought.
     He said nothing to her and picked up the unicom, "Komma, how's our
power reserves?"
     "We're good for another eight centars at least if the rear
compartment holds." the Corporal replied.  "Captain, do you think
maybe..."
     "Yeah, you've been back there long enough.  I'll have Gayla spell
you for a bit.  Get back up here."
     "Thanks, sir."
     Bojay then switched frequencies, "Red Two, this is Alpha Shuttle. 
Acknowledge."
     "Copy you, Bojay.  No change in typhon ETA or life form readings. 
Revised ETA on rescue shuttle arrival to planet, now five centons."
     "Thanks," Bojay took a breath, "Sheba, ah...just want you to know
that...as far as my ah, being able to ah...stand up front and center in
the Great Hall goes...well, it's okay with me now."
     Gayla turned her head toward him in surprise.  There was no response
over the unicom, which meant that Sheba was clearly stunned by this bit
of news and was trying to rapidly come to terms with it.
     But then a centon later, they could hear her voice say with clear
pride and gratitude, "I copy your message,"she paused and then added with
a fraternal, joshing edge that he could remember from so many
conversations over the yahrens.  "And you'd better come out of there in
one piece so I can hold you to it."
     "I wouldn't think of risking the inherited wrath of the Juggernaut," 
amazingly, Bojay found himself falling back into the old, familiar
pattern of warrior banter that had always come so easy to them in the
past.  "I've got too many people down here counting on me."
     "And you've done a good job under these conditions, Bojay," Sheba
said, letting the joshing edge linger.  "Stand by for contact with Rescue
Shuttle.  Red Two, out."
     "Alpha Shuttle, out."  He put the unicom down and looked Gayla in
the eye.  The agro-tech's expression was one of amazement and, of one who
was highly impressed.
     "Okay," Bojay said, "The personal felgercarb has been dealt with,
for which I thank you.  From now on, we stick to the job, and only the
job.  In all ways."
     Gayla smirked at him, "Yes, sir." she rose from the chair, "Time for
me to relieve Komma."
     As she made her way back, Bojay found himself smiling with
satisfaction.  And then, he cast another glance through the foward
windows.  The scene was even more ominous than it had been before with
the increasing tempo of the rain and the pounding noise it created on the
shuttle exterior.  And yet, in spite of all that, he honestly could say
he felt at peace with himself.  At peace to finally consider the personal
problems a closed subject, and free him up to focus all parts of his
being on getting himself and the people he was responsible for off this
planet safely.

                         Chapter Seven

     It only took a half centon for Thomson to start regretting that he'd
followed Pili into the darkened tunnel of the cave.  There was little to
no illuminiation inside, and it forced the Colonial Security Guard to
extend his arms to feel the sides so he could keep a general sense of his
bearings.  It was only when his own natural sense of night-vision took
over, that he could make out the darker shadow of Pili just ahead.  The
Kian was still moving forward, and whenever she spoke, her tone of
optimistic enthusiasm remained the same.
     "It is same!"  she exclaimed.  "Just like ancestral tunnel!  We find
it soon."
     "How soon?" it took all his self-control to avoid saying 'fracking
soon'.
     "Gods reveal in time.  We must follow."  He could see from her
shadow that she was raising her arms, "I know gods provide for us." an
edge of reverence lined her voice.
     Why am I doing this? He asked himself again as he kept inching his
way forward.  But he had to admit, the whole craziness of this situation
that he'd been thrust into had left him with no other alternatives,
unless he'd preferred sitting on his astrum in the cave, which as far as
he was concerned was no solution at all.
     As he kept making his way forward, he noticed that the air was still
breathable, and he had to admit, that was a good sign.  If there wasn't
something of note at the end of this dark passageway, then the air would
be stagnant, and it would only be a matter of time before he and Pili
would be dead from lack of oxygen.  At the very least they were going to
find something!
     Abruptly, Pili came to a stop, and he could see her shadowy form
looking about, arms still outstretched.
     "Yes," there was a clinical edge to her voice.  "Nearby.  There!"
she pointed.
     Thomson squinted, and he could see a dazzle of spots piercing the
blackness, and realized it was because there was a lighter area ahead and
his eyes were now having to adjust to it.  He blinked several times, and
slowly began to focus on what it was the Kian was pointing at.
     "Ancestral tunnel," Pili said as she made her way forward.  "Like
Mother tell me long ago."
     Thomson could see some blinking lights on what looked like several
console terminals, standing upright in an open, vaulted room.  He managed
to follow Pili, and then he stumbled as he felt his boot trip over
something.  The Security Guard looked down and he felt his skin crawl as
he saw the open-eyed sockets of a skull looking back at him.
     "Not just an ancestral tunnel," he said aloud as he regained his
footing.  "Looks like ancestors were here too."
     Pili looked back at him.  He could now see her face clearly again
thanks to the illumination caused by the blinking console lights.
     "Ancestors?  From Gho-bal?"
     "I don't know," he wished he hadn't made his comment, which had only
been intended as a form of black humor.  "I guess we'll find out though
if we have a closer look."
     "Old language familiar."  Pili pointed at one of the rectangular
pieces of equipment which had some markings on them.  "See things on Ki
with markings.  Markings of ancestors."
     Thomson stepped up to them and looked them over.  He had no training
in Kobollian language, but the symbols were generally familiar to him as
Kobollian, just as they were to most Colonials with a basic primary
education.
     "Well, I guess you're right," Thomson said.  "Can you read this?"
     "No," Pili shook her head.  "Ancestors language forgotten.  Long
ago."   She looked about the room with an air of wide-eyed wonder.  "Use
to con-trol.  Before cities on Ki fell."
     "Control what?"
     "Not remember.  Knowledge forgotten."
     Naturally, he thought.  You wouldn't have been living in caves if
you had remembered.
     "Okay then," Thomson said casually, "Now that we're here, what do we
do now?"
     She looked at him with a quizzical expression.  "You not understand
an-cestral tunnel?"
     "I understand what it is, but do you expect me to figure out how
this works to get us out of here?" his voice rose slightly.
     "Thought you knew," Pili seemed genuinely surprised.  "Thought
Colonials understood ancestors tech-nol-o-gy."
     "How in Hades do you expect me to know?" he felt the exasperation
rising.  "I'm not a fracking linguist!  Maybe someone back on the
Galactica could read this, but I haven't got anyway to contact them."
     She shook her head, "Strange," she said, "You not like Boom-er and
A-the-na.  They more resourceful.  Not so...neg-a-tive."
     "I----," Thomson started and then threw up his arms in defeat. 
"It's just...look, this isn't my normal line of work."
     "I not understand," Pili said, "Gods use me to lead you here.  Where
Colonials under-stand ancestors ways better.  You not know how to use..."
she trailed off, as if she were now finding it more difficult than usual
to express herself in the still uncomfortable Colonial language.
     Thomson shook his head in amazement.  There was a naive innocence to
Pili, and part of that meant she had some kind of blind faith in the
abilities of Colonial Warriors.  She had clearly been awed by what she'd
seen warriors like Boomer and Athena do on Ki, and no doubt that had
accounted in part for why she and her mate, Kudur-Mabug, had decided to
stow away and leave their home planet forever.  Because they had seen
them do so much, and expected much from them.  And now, by complaining
about what he was convinced he couldn't do, it could only leave her
feeling confused and lost.
     He came up to her and touched her on the shoulder, hoping it didn't
send the wrong signal.  "I'm sorry," Thomson said and then looked at the
equipment again.  "If I can get a basic sense of how this functions,
well...yes, I should be able to use this stuff.  It just means taking a
little time to get the job done."
      Pili slowly nodded, "I sorry.  I trust you, as you trusted me to
lead you here."
     "Yes," Thomson nodded, and then turned his attention to the main
computer.  The blinking lights seemed to look back at him almost
tauntingly, daring him to figure out what their purpose was and how they
functioned.
     Okay, he thought as he got to his knees and began to look for a
control panel, I accept the challenge.  And I intend to win.  


     Lepus could feel the wind picking up, brushing briskly against his
cheek as he and Clement continued to work on the ancient relay systems,
but otherwise the weather remained normal and calm in their area.  The
black clouds to their rear was the only sign of the horrible weather they
were now avoiding, and which they knew their base camp was engulfed in.
     "Sergeant?"
     He looked around and saw a grim-faced Nestor.
     "Shouldn't you be with Demos?"
     "That's why I'm here," the med-tech said.  "He's taking a turn for
the worse.  I just used up the last amount of emergency anti-biotic, and
believe me, it's not enough.  He needs to get to Life Station facilities
in the next six to eight centars, or else I'm going to have to cut off
his left arm to keep him from dying."
     Clement abruptly stopped his survey of the damaged equipment and
looked up with concern.  Lepus's expression remained neutral and then he
turned back to the mining expert.  "Keep working, Clement.  This will be
my call."
     Somewhat haltingly, Clement went back to work while Lepus got to his
feet.
     "Nestor," he said, "Right now, I can't risk taking him back to base
camp in these conditions."
     "Cyclones yes," Nestor responded forcefully, "But I've just scanned
the heading back to Base Camp.  It's raining hard, but we can manage
that."
     "No," Lepus said flatly.  "And besides, you're forgetting something. 
That shuttle isn't going to be the one to get us off the ground.  We'll
just hold our position here and let the Galactica's rescue shuttle pick
us up after they get Bojay and the rest."
     Nestor stared at him for a few awkward microns and then said, "Okay. 
But just remember what I'm dealing with in that landram.  And what he's
going through too.  The instant we get a chance to get him out of that
hell he's going through right now, we have to grab it, even if you're a
half micron away from fixing those damned relays."
     "Don't patronize me," the security guard said coldly, "I know what
he's going through, and what we have to do if it comes to that kind of
scenario.  But in the meantime, you do your fracking job, and let me do
mine."
     The med-tech said nothing more as he turned and walked back to the
landram. 


     There had been very little conversation inside the rescue shuttle as
it made its way from the Galactica to the planet.  For the most part,
Apollo had the feeling it was because each of the four people inside the
shuttle, himself included, didn't think small talk would be all that
worthwhile to pass the time.  It was a silence not from any sense of
pessimism or gloom, but of professionalism, and the feeling that each of
them needed to mentally go over what they might be expected to do to get
their fellow humans back safely.
     For Cassiopeia though, the opportunity to have something other than
Starbuck's well-being to concern herself over, was something she could
almost regard as a welcome distraction.  Ever since her boyfriend's
return from that experience that had left Cadet Jada dead, he had seemed
so...different.  The brash air of cocksure confidence that had always
been such an integral part of his personality just wasn't there any
longer.  What few conversations they'd had since then had been
so...forced.  Nor had he shown much inclination to spend much time with
her.  Instead, he seemed preoccupied with something else that from all
indications he wasn't willing to talk to her about.  Her one attempt at
pressing him a bit more had ended with a cold, "Cass, there's nothing to
discuss." and that had been enough to make the med-tech realize that if
she kept it up, it was only going to end in a horrible argument.  And
that was the last thing she wanted to see happen.  And so, she was going
to hold her tongue and let Starbuck handle whatever was bothering him
inside as he saw fit...for now.
     But it can't always be that way, Starbuck, she thought.  Not if
we're going to stay together for the long haul.  Even I have my limits.
     Up front, the shuttle's silence was finally broken by the sound of
Sheba's voice coming through the unicom.  "Alpha Shuttle, this is Red
Two.  I have you on my scan, ETA to planet orbit in five centons."
     "Copy you, Red Two," Apollo answered.  "Have you made contact with
the landing party."
     "Affirmative," Sheba then spent the next two centons telescoping all
she'd heard from Bojay in their previous conversations.  "Situation is
critical.  Typhon ETA to their position is 120 centons for outer band,
160 to eyewall.  Contact them on Highgain frequency, and keep me patched
in on Beta channel so I can update the weather progress."
     "Understood.  Initiating contact, now."    Apollo then switched the
frequency.  "Alpha Shuttle to landing party.  Bojay, you there?"
     The response was instantaneous.  "Right here, Apollo.  Thanks for
coming by."
     "Sheba's relayed your status to me.  No change on the wherabouts of
Alpha Landram personnel?"
     "None.  Our scanner can't do a blasted thing to see if they're out
there.  Sheba's is tied-up keeping the weather tracking straight so maybe
you could use your full scan beam in our sector to try and get a numeric
reading on how many human lifeforms are down here?"
     "Good idea, we'll try that," he turned to his co-pilot, "Mackin, get
a fix on where Bojay is, and then concentrate all scan beams to sectors
within a hundred square kilometrones to the north."
     "Can do," the attractive brunette hit the switches and looked at the
readout on her monitor.  "Not getting anything north of the base position
where I register three lifeforms."
     "Adjust it an additional twenty square metrones east and west of the
initial search zone."
     "Adjusting," Mackin did so and then shook her head.  "Nothing.  No
signs of life forms." 
     Apollo brought his hands together and took a breath.  The first
tough decision would have to be made right now.
     "Okay," he said, "Readjust your scan to concentrate on man-made
metal objects.  I want you to find where Alpha Landram crashed after it
got caught up in the cyclone."
     Mackin understood immediately why Apollo had asked her to do that. 
She nodded and then looked at the result.  "Found it.  It's about fifteen
kilometrones northeast of Base Camp position."
     "In one piece?"
     "Two," she said calmly, "It clearly broke upon impact with the
ground.  Larger section lying a few metrones from the other."   She shook
her head, "If anyone was alive in that thing when it got caught in the
air, there is no way they'd still be alive after impact."
     "Then what we need to find out is if there are bodies inside there
or lying nearby."
     "You know we can't get that kind of data from a scan.  They're not
designed to pinpoint dead humans," Mackin pointed out matter-of-factly.
     "I know.  So that means...we have to make a visual check ourselves,
don't we?"
     Mackin was silent for a half centon before she answered, "That's
ultimately your call, Captain."
     "So it is," Apollo sighed with resignation and then activated his
com-line, "Bojay, listen up.  We know that landram crashed about fifteen
kilometrones from you, so what we're going to do is bring ourselves down
to that position and make a visual inspection for bodies.  Once we're
done there, we'll hightail it to your position and get all of you
aboard."
     "Apollo, I wouldn't recommend flying that thing fifteen kilometrones
close to the ground.  The rain down here is bad enough and the wind's
starting to make things difficult," Bojay said, "I think it's best you
standby in orbit and wait till I've got a whole group back here at
Basecamp so you can get us out in one fell swoop.  Last thing we need to
do is put you and your team at risk from making multiple passes or
lingering too long down here."
     "Bojay, I understand your concern, but we aren't going to get this
thing wrapped up unless we've got more definite information that your
Alpha Landram team is dead and beyond rescue.  Now unless you plan on
trekking fifteen kilometrones in the rain yourself, that's going to have
to be my job."
     There was a silence from the other end.  From inside her viper
cockpit, Sheba, who was listening in, wondered if this was going to be
the centon for a blow-up between the two over command strategy.  Bojay's
reversal regarding the wedding notwithstanding, she was sure he didn't
want to find himself deferring too much to Apollo's commands.
     "Okay, tell you what," Bojay said calmly, "I'll get Beta Landram's
crew back here right now, and that way by the time you make your check of
the Alpha Landram wreck, we'll all be ready to go and minimize the rest
of your down time on the surface.  Just stand by for a few centons while
I make sure they're on their way back."
     "Standing by," Apollo said as he leaned back in his chair and
allowed himself a look at the planet surface.  He could see the ugly,
menacing clouds covering more and more of what had been the green safe
zone of the planet.  If it looked so frightening from up here, safe in
the confines of the shuttle, he couldn't begin to imagine the terror any
of the landing party had been experiencing by being in the thick of
things.
     No wonder he wants us to minmize our down time on the surface.


     "Beta Landram, this is Base Camp," Bojay radioed.  "Close up and get
back here.  Now."
     Ten microns went by before there was a response.  "Captain Bojay,
this is Nestor.  Sergeant Lepus is still outside working on those damaged
relays."
     "Then go out and tell him it's time to pack up and head back."
     "Stand by, sir."
     What a dumb expression, Bojay thought.  In this case, I'm  not
standing by, I'm sitting on my astrum waiting for someone to hurry up. 
He might as well just tell me to sit on my astrum and wait.
     He then shook his head and wondered if being around Gayla for the
last few centars was rubbing off on him more than he realized.  If that
was the case, he might have to start pondering some other questions when
this was all over.
     "I'll tell you this," Komma said aloud from the co-pilot seat, where
he had settled down after being relieved by Gayla.  "When I get back, I'm
going to reprogram CAP and make sure I never get selected for a landing
party again.  I never realized how good I've had it being a paper pusher
instead of an elite squad member of Colonial Security."
     Bojay glanced at him wryly but decided not to say anything.  He
glanced up and saw that the level of rain outside was even worse than
before, with the force of the raindrops now causing the shuttle to shake
faintly.
     "Captain, this is Lepus," the com-line finally came back to life. 
"We're really making some good progress out here.  Clement has found a
junction box that we think is where these damaged circuits are connected
to.  If we can just mend the circuits with some simple sealing tape, I
think we can reconnect them."
     "Lepus, forget all that," Bojay said coldly.  "You start hauling
your astrum back here immediately.  The rescue shuttle's arrived and is
ready to take us out."
     "But sir!" the security guard protested, "You can let us keep
working on this a bit longer, and the rescue shuttle can grab us last if
we're still not done.  It's a chance worth taking!"
     "No, it isn't!" Bojay shouted angrily into his com-line.  His words
were so loud, they almost made Komma jump out of his seat.  "I don't want
that rescue shuttle lingering too long on this planet in these fracking
conditions.  That means it swoops down to us and grabs us all at once and
we get the frack out of here.  And that means you haul yourself back here
right now, damn you!"
     "Sir," Lepus sounded frustrated, "We're so close.  I'm convinced of
that.  Clement and I..."  There was suddenly a rattling noise and an
instant later, an agitated Nestor was on the line instead.
     "Captain, the Sergeant is not thinking clearly at this point.  Demos
is badly injured and needs to get out of here quickly-----." the rattling
noise then cut him off again.  Clearly, there was some kind of scuffle
going on for control of the com-line.
     "God damn it!" Bojay exploded, deciding that one of the more taboo
profanities in Colonial Standard was called for, "The two of you fracking
stop it right now!  I'm the one giving the orders, and they're going to
be obeyed.  Sergeant?  Sergeant Lepus, do you fracking hear me?"
     Finally, the guard's voice was on again, "Yes sir, and I don't think
you realize the stakes-----,"
     "Don't you question my judgment!" Silver Spar leader roared. 
"You're putting people's lives at risk for something that isn't worth it. 
Now are you going to do as I say, or do I order Nestor and Clement to
shoot you instead?"
     There was sullen defeat in Lepus's voice.  "Closing down and
returning, sir.  ETA to Base Camp...thirty centons."
     "Thank you, Sergeant," he said frostily, and made a mental note to
recommend that Lepus be busted in rank when they got back.  "Apollo, this
is Bojay.  Beta Landram personnel will be back at Base Camp in thirty
centons.  Fix your timetable to make a check of the wreckage around that
figure."
     "Affirmative," Apollo responded.  "We'll try to allocate no more
than five centons for full evaluation of the site.  Probably less since
we just need to know if they were inside the landram or not."
     "Okay.  Base camp out."
     Bojay set the comline down and then heard the door to the rear
compartment open.  He turned around and saw a grim-faced Gayla making her
way forward.
     "Something wrong?"
     "I tried to contact you, but your com-line was tied up," the
agro-tech said, "It's getting worse back there.  I don't think structural
integrity of that compartment behind us will last more than another
fifteen or twenty centons.  It's already starting to leak inside there."
     "Well, even if it goes we'll still be dry."
     "And deaf," Gayla said bluntly.  "The instant that area is exposed
to all that rain, the emergency batteries are going to short-circuit and
we won't have any more communications capacity.  That's why you had me
monitoring the structural integrity, remember?"
     Bojay felt like slapping his palm against his forehead.  The rage
he'd felt inside over what had happened with Lepus had made him forget
that critical detail.  
     Even worse, if Gayla was right and they had only twenty centons of
power left, then that would mean they'd lose communications before Beta
Landram's personnel would be back, and certainly before Apollo's shuttle
would arrive.  Which would only make their rescue more problematic than
they'd expected it to be.


     Thomson was glad that there was enough light being generated by the
blinking terminals throughout the complex to let him see in front of him. 
Having lost his illuminator during the frenzied escape from the cyclones,
he'd had no way of making it easy to see when he'd followed Pili down the
path that had led them to this place.  Even so, the light was limited in
nature, and he had to squint repeatedly to make sure he was reading the
symbols clearly, and delineating the patterns of the circuits.
     Frack, if I only had rudimentary knowledge of Kobollian symbols I
could probably figure this felgercarb out, he thought as he squatted
lower on his knees to get a more up-close look at the underpinnings of
the main console.  This is probably going to come down to a matter of
guess-work.
     He got to his feet and sighed, putting his hands on his hips and
taking another long look at the machinery.  One main console he was sure
acted as a control unit that kept this part of the planet shielded from
the harsh weather, and the other terminals were monitors of some kind. 
But how did they function?  And what could he program to see what had
gone wrong?  What advice was there for setting things right again if an
adjustment needed to be made?
     His eyes then wandered to the desk portion of the console and
noticed a red button standing all alone with several Kobollian symbols
underneath.  The security guard wondered if he should take a chance on
pressing it, and then decided that at the very least it would break the
montony of endless pondering.  This would be his first case of guess-work
in action, and then he would have to deal with the consequences
accordingly.
     Thomson brought his finger down on the button, and tensed himself
inside.  For a micron there was nothing...and then he heard a crackling
sort of sound that reminded him of static feedback coming through a
speaker.  After another several microns of that static sound, he realized
that was exactly what it was.
     Then, from somewhere inside the dimly lit complex, a voice filled
the room.  Soft and mellow, not like a normal computer voice but more
like a male counterpart of the Galactica's special CAP system computer
voice.  Speaking words that only sounded like babbling gibberish to
Thomson.
     But one look at a captivated Pili made him realize that the voice
wasn't speaking gibberish to the Kian.  Instead, her ears were hanging on
every word with a fascinated air of total understanding.
     Of course!  Thomson suddenly realized.  Pili and her people are
illiterate when it comes to reading Kobollian, but the spoken language
they'd still remember!
     "What's he saying?" he blurted out.
     Pili held out a hand to indicate silence as she kept listening to
the male voice.  Slowly, she nodded her head and then murmurred several
words of her own native dialect.
     Two centons went by before the male voice ceased.  Pili was nodding
her head vigorously.
     "Well?" the impatience rose in Thomson's voice.
     "Great ancestor speak much," Pili finally spoke.  "Much
com-pli-cated.  This place control weath-er.  Control is now dis-rupted
because of..." she shook her head, "Not understand fully.  Cir-cuit
damage?"
     "Circuit damage," the guard's heart started to pound with
excitement.  "Okay.  That voice was giving an overview of what's happened
based on an automatic relay of what's been going on.  Maybe if..." he
looked back at the red button on the console and pressed it again. "Maybe
it will say some more."
     A micron later, the male voice filled the complex again, but right
away the look on Pili's face was not encouraging.
     "He say same thing over," the Kian said.  "Control dis-rupted."
     Thomson's euphoria began to fade.  As he looked back at the numerous
consoles, he realized that the key to unlocking the secret of how this
place functioned, was to get the systems to verbalize more, so Pili could
give him a rudimentary translation.  His best case scenario was to find
some automated verbal computer response system like in the Galactica's
CAP program, which allowed a user to converse freely with a computer
voice without having to type instructions on a keyboard.  If there was
something like that in this complex, then there was a very real chance
for their survival.
     Okay, he thought as he began to look more intently at the equipment
in front of him.  Let's look for something that will give us some much
needed conversation.


     Apollo started maneuvering the shuttle into the atmosphere with more
delicate precision then he could ever recall using for shuttle flying. 
The instant the craft hit the upper atmosphere levels, he could feel the
jostling effects of wind currents which already told him that this would
be as rough as Bojay had warned.
     "Slow thrusters," he ordered Mackin, "We go in too fast, and we hit
trouble if a sudden updraft hits us."
     "Slowing thrusters to one-third," Mackin said, "Descent track now at
one-fourth normal speed.  ETA to landram wreckage now revised to eight
centons from now."
     "Great," Apollo muttered.  But delaying the amount of time it would
now take to get to Bojay was something that at this point couldn't be
avoided. 
     "Red Two to Alpha Shuttle," Sheba's voice came through his headset,
"I'm scanning the local weather along your descent track.  Watch out for
renewed cyclone activity in your sector.  Pressure levels are dropping
rapidly, creating ripe conditions for new ones to form."
     "Thanks for the warning," Apollo grunted, and then turned around
quickly to the passengers behind him, "All of you, stay fully strapped in
and don't move a muscle!"
     He focused his attention out the cockpit window again and could see
ugly, swirling cloud patterns for as far as the eye could see.  At least
one of them seemed to be collapsing and was on the verge of assuming a
funnel shape.
     "Frack," he whispered.
     "Alpha Shuttle, I now have a cyclone forming three kilometrones to
your northwest, likely to bear down on your position by the time it takes
full shape!"
     "Copy.  Is it's trajectory away from the landram wreckage?"
     "Affirmative," Sheba was finding it hard to keep her voice level.
     "Okay, we'll be fine.  Stand by."   Apollo turned to Mackin,
"Increase thrusters to full power now!  We're going to drive around that
thing before it forms!"
     Mackin's eyes widened, "Sudden full speed might shake us apart!"
     "Just do it!" Apollo barked, "Now!"
     The co-pilot did so, and then Apollo turned the controls hard to the
left, putting the shuttle in a slightly banking motion.  The vehicle
picked up speed, and the intensity of the shaking inside also picked up. 
Seated in the passenger section, Cassiopeia could only find herself
digging her nails deep in the arm rests of her chair, and letting her
mind go totally blank for now.  She wasn't about to let herself panic, or
clutter her mind with pointless thoughts about Starbuck and all her other
personal matters waiting back on the Galactica.
     Fifteen microns that seemed like endless centons passed, and Apollo
brought the shuttle back to a level heading.  The intensity of the
shaking stopped.
     "Nice job," Sheba radioed with an edge of pride, "You left that
forming cyclone right in your wake with plenty of room to spare."
     "Resuming normal descent track now."  Apollo said, "Weather is clear
in this zone for now.  ETA to ground contact in..." he glanced over at
Mackin.
     "Four centons."
     "Four centons.  Tell Bojay our overall ETA will be right on schedule
with the arrival of Beta Landram."   He then paused briefly and added,
"Tell him that I plan on pulling us out right away."
     "Will relay," Sheba said, realizing what her fiancee's words meant. 
Regardless of what the wreck of Alpha Landram told them, Apollo's
inclination was to write off the Alpha Landram team for now and get the
others off the surface as quickly as possible.

                         Chapter Eight

     Thomson found himself combing every last piece of equipment to try
and make a reasonable inference that the kind of computer set-up he
desperately needed at this point existed in this complex from long ago. 
Surely, a race as technologically advanced as the original Kobollians had
been would have been capable of doing that much!  
     He stopped to catch his breath.  Railing with frustration inside
wasn't going to make it appear.  He needed to be absolutely calm and
focused if he was going to find what both he and Pili needed to find if
they were going to get out of this fix.  
     As he kept studying the equipment he found himself occasionally
glancing at the Kian, who was standing off to one side with a look of
obedient fascination, and found himself trying not to let himself be
distracted by how beautiful she looked, especially now that she was
wearing the skimpier attire of her homeworld.  The last thing he needed
was to turn this kind of situation into the cliche from a bad story where
a man and woman caught up in a difficult situation suddenly had a
romantic encounter as a result of the experience.  Especially when the
woman was married to someone who had been a formidable warrior on her
home planet, and who would probably bash his head in with a native club
if there was ever any suspicion that Thomson had developed a romantic
feeling for Pili.
     Nope, he thought as he turned his head away from Pili and looked
down at the equipment once again.  No melodrama here, just honest, basic
survival and nothing more.  If I want to improve my love life as a result
of this, I can always just boast about my skills in getting out of this
to one of the barmaids on the Rising Star some time and get their
attention that way!
     Thomson got to his feet and then realized he'd been wasting his time
looking for signs of where a chair might have once been for a computer
user to sit down and converse with the central unit.  But if there had
been chairs down here, they should have still been in place.  Obviously,
the Kobollians had only meant for this place to be a temporary
way-station of sorts, that they'd likely considered chairs a redundancy
that wasn't needed.
     He finally decided that a terminal adjacent to the one that had
played back the initial message announcing the status of the systems
offered the best possibility.  The Kobollians might not have left chairs
for comfort, but they certainly should have made the complex convenient
from the standpoint of letting a user not have to go far from one
terminal to another if more information was needed.
     The green button on the terminal beckoned to him, and he decided it
was time to take another risk, but a risk that came only after his full
professional judgment as a trained warrior had been utilized.
     The instant he pressed it, he heard a clicking sound emit.  It grew
loud in a matter of microns, and then he heard what sounded like another
static burst through unseen speakers.  And then...that mellow male voice
speaking Kobollian once again, but only a short sentence.
     "Pili?" he looked back at her.
     The Kian stepped toward him, "He ask if read-y."
     "Ready?"  Thomson looked down at the terminal and then saw a
recessed area that conceivably could have been a microphone type speaker
for whoever was using the system.  "Pili, come over here.  I want you to
talk in your native language into this."
     She came alongside him with the perplexed expression of a child. 
"Want me...talk?"
     "Yes," he nodded, "Ask it if this is a system for communicating with
the central control system.  Do you understand?"
     She slowly nodded, "I...try," she leaned forward and then spoke in
her native tongue.  The instant she was done, the male voice spoke again,
and because of the length of the sentence, Thomson knew right away it
hadn't just repeated what it spoke earlier.
     "What does it say?"
     "He say he read-y to an-swer all questions on system funct-ions."
     Lords be praised, Thomson thought.  It was going to be a cumbersome
process of Pili translating his questions to the computer, and then her
translating the answers back to him, but at the very least they were
going to make some headway on this.
     About the only thing he could worry about at this point, was the
possibility that the rest of the landing party had already given them up
for dead.


     "We're not going to touch down," Apollo said to Mackin, "Bring it
down to minimal thrust at seven metrones above surface.  We should be
able to get enough of a visual scan on things from there."
     The shuttle co-pilot nodded, "Ten metrones.  Nine, eight...seven."
     "Activate forward scan monitors."
     "Activated."
     Right away, Apollo's forward monitor gave him a view much clearer
than the view outside the forward windows.  He felt a sick feeling in his
stomach when he saw the umistakable sight of the destroyed landram.  The
force of the impact on the ground had sheared it in half, leaving only a
bare trace of its familiar contours.  There was no doubt that if anyone
had been inside that craft at the time it was snatched into the air by
the raging cyclone, he would have to be dead now.
     "Bring us in another ten degrees forward.  Have us drop to maybe
five metrones if we must to improve monitor angle."
     "Ten degrees forward," Mackin acknowledged.
     Apollo squinted hard, trying to see if there was anything he could
recognize inside that could be called human remains.  But the angle was
still not good enough.
     Abruptly, the shuttle was buffeted slightly by a gust of wind,
causing Apollo to lose his concentration.
     "Frack!" he slammed his fist against the top of the controls.  "This
isn't working.  Set us down and we'll make a quick visual inspection on
the ground."
     Mackin was glad Apollo had come to that conclusion on his own, since
she felt it wasn't likely to work getting a visual inspection from the
air.  Apollo had taken a gamble that it could be done in the hopes of
saving some time, and now it was going to cost them several extra centons
at least in getting to Bojay's position.  Given the unpredictible nature
of the weather, that could be several very costly centons when all was
said and done.
     The brunette sergeant set the shuttle down at a point less than ten
metrones from the main wreckage of the landram.  Apollo wasted no time
hitting the switch that opened the hatch and then turned around to face
his increasingly impatient and uneasy group of passengers.
     "Lomas," he said to the lone member of Colonial Security who had
come along, "Get out and make a quick visual inspection of landram
interior.  Just confirm whether there are any bodies in there or not, and
get back in here right away.  Don't take more than two centons to get
that information."
     Lomas nodded and said nothing as he unhitched his belt, rechecked
his holster, and made his way out.  In the next seat, Cassiopeia knew she
didn't have to ask that she go out as well, because if it was true that
no one could have survived a crash of a landram caught up in a cyclone,
then she as a med-tech would serve no purpose going outside for a look.
     As Apollo looked out the front window and saw Lomas sprint across
the ground toward the main piece of wreckage, he heard Sheba's voice in
his headset again.  "Alpha Shuttle, this is Red Two."
     "Copy, Red Two."
     "Apollo, I just heard some bad news from Bojay.  Weather's
deteriorated in his position so much that they've lost structural
integrity of the rear compartment housing auxilary power.  Right after he
signed off, the power died and he can't talk to either of us anymore."
     "His forward compartment's okay?"
     "It's stable."
     "They should be okay until we get there," Apollo craned his head up
and saw Lomas peering into the wreckage.  The Security Guard then turned
back and started to vigorously shake his head as he ran back toward the
shuttle.  "Which will be in less than five centons.  Stand by."
     "Nothing alive or anything that was ever alive inside there," Lomas
was slightly out of breath as he re-entered the shuttle after dashing up
the ramp.  "No question no one was in that when it got caught."
     "Okay," Apollo hit the switch that closed the hatch.  "Power up and
let's get out of here."
     He hit the switch, but didn't feel the full thrust, which should
have come from Mackin activating the swtiches on her side of the cockpit.
     "Mackin?"
     He looked at her and saw that the brunette sergeant was staring
slack jawed at her monitor.  
     "Mackin, didn't you hear me?" Apollo raised his voice.
     "Captain," she pointed at her monitor and whispered.  "Look.  Ten
metrones further down."
     Apollo looked at his vid-monitor and saw that it was focused at an
angle away from the wreckage, out of normal visual contact from inside
the shuttle.  And then, he felt himself stiffen when he saw lying like a
limp rag doll, the broken form of what had once been a man wearing a
Colonial uniform.
     He quickly turned away to avoid looking any further at the horrible
sight.  "Get us out of here, now!" he barked.
     Shaken from her stupor, Mackin activated the co-pilot switches that
helped lift the shuttle off the ground.  Apollo then turned the shuttle
on a heading that would take it to where Bojay and the others waited
fourteen kilometrones away.  He kept the shuttle at an altitude no higher
than twenty metrones off the surface, and at that low altitude it wasn't
long before they felt the loud pelting of rain hitting the vehicle.
     With one member of the Alpha Landram team confirmed dead, and with
the weather already demonstrating its potency in this section, there was
little doubt in Apollo's mind that holding out hope for the other two
members was beyond hopeless at this point.

     Above, Sheba found that by studying the intricate patterns of the
numerous storm systems, she could keep her mind off the risks that her
fiancee was going through right now, as well as the danger the man she
considered her oldest friend in the Fleet remained in.  Despite the
terrible power these storms represented, with their capacity to destroy
all things in their path, from above one couldn't help but feel a sense
of awe at the sight of such a great force of nature, with its intricate,
swirling patterns.
     She had a sense that the cloud patterns were moving forward with
greater intensity and her next scan check confirmed it.  Speed had picked
up, and now they were only sixty centons away from seeing the outer edge
of the storm reach the landing party's position.
     Sheba decided to program a scientific equation into her computer to
see if she could answer one more critical question.  This required
factoring in the speed of the typhon, and the mass and weight of a
shuttle loaded with as many as 11 people.
     The instant she saw the answer, she realized that the prospects of
the shuttle riding out the typhon on the ground were poor at best.  Odds
that not even the most daring of wagerers would ever have taken in a
micron.
     Slowly, she clenched her fist to try and relieve some of the tension
that was now building up inside her again.


     Bojay had kept Gayla and Komma up forward the instant it was clear
that the rear compartment's integrity would soon give way.  He wasn't
about to let either of them be trapped in the back with a sealed door
blocking them from the dry shelter of the forward compartment.  Now that
it had given way, the power went out in a matter of microns, throwing the
front section into general darkness.  The only way they could get out now
was to blow the hatch manually, which Bojay wasn't going to do until
absolutely necessary.
     It didn't take long though before he realized it had become
necessary when through the driving downpour of the rain, he could see the
headlight beams of Beta Landram coming to a stop just several metrones
from the shuttle wreck.  Since it wasn't possible to talk to Beta Landram
any longer the only way they could get together was to blow the hatch
now.
     "It's going to get wet in here the way the wind's kicking up," Gayla
noted.  "Unless we all crowd into the landram instead."
     "No way," Bojay shook his head.  "We may have to cover up a bit once
we blow the hatch, but this thing is more sturdy than that landram is
once the wind picks up.  We've already learned our lesson that point."
     "Ain't it the truth," Komma grunted mirthlessly, since he was the
one who had witnessed that result firsthand.
     "Okay, here goes," Bojay said as he pressed the button that would
blow the hatch.  With only a mild bang, the steel door came off its
hinges and then clattered to the ground outside.  Now, with the way to
the outside open, the sound of the wind howled through the shuttle
interior, causing the rain outside to spill in as well.
     Three centons went by and Bojay saw a soaked Clement enter first
followed by Sergeant Lepus.  The Colonial Security Guard had a very angry
look on his face.
     "Nestor and Demos?" Bojay demanded, deciding that he wasn't going to
show much in the way of courtesy to the sergeant after their last
conversation.
     "Staying inside the landram until the shuttle arrives, since Nestor
thinks Demos should remain immobilized for now." Lepus said coldly, and
then added, "Is the shuttle less than five centons from reaching us?"
     "Might be.  We lost contact when the power went out a little bit
ago."
     Lepus then settled himself in one of the shuttle passenger seats. 
"Looks as if a few extra centons wouldn't have made a fracking
difference."
     Bojay got to his feet and then came over to where Lepus sat.  With
an angry look, he towered above the seated guard, and assumed the pose he
could remember Cain giving him that first time he'd met the Juggernaut
aboard the Pegasus.
     "Now you listen to me, Sergeant," he said with contempt, "I don't
give a daggit's felgercarb if you think you were a half micron away from
fixing the fracking thing that controls the weather on this fracked-up
planet.  A premise that frankly, given what I've seen of how thickheaded
you are, is one I highly doubt.  The bottom line is that I gave you an
order that impacts on the safety of all of us, and when that order is
given you are supposed to fracking obey it until you've got an insignia
on your shoulder that gives you the right to order me around.  And since
the next insignia on your little shoulder is going to be of a rank lower
than the one you've got on now if I have anything to say about it, you're
not going to get that opportunity with me or anyone else in this Fleet
unless you start learning how things operate in this Fleet of ours.  Is
that fracking understood?"
     "Sure," Lepus didn't look at him and waved his hand.
     "On your feet, Sergeant!" Bojay bellowed.  "NOW!  At full
atten-tion!"
     Lepus glanced over at Komma but saw that his fellow Security Guard
had the coldest look imaginable.  One that had a greater impact
ultimately on his inner psyche than anything Bojay had just said because
if Komma felt the same way as Bojay did, then Lepus knew that he was
likely going to find all of the members in the Security unit giving him
the cold shoulder for a long time to come.
     He finally bolted to his feet and stood at full, erect attention.
     "You understand everything I said?!"  Bojay shouted again.
     "Yes sir!"  Lepus shouted back with obedience, but clearly with some
bitterness.
     "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!" Bojay shouted in the best tone of an Academy
drill instructor.
     "YES SIR!!" Lepus repeated at the top of his voice.
     "Good," Bojay then dropped his voice to one of quiet disdain.  "At
ease, Sergeant.  But don't speak unless spoken to until further notice."
     He moved back to the pilot seat and dropped into the chair, letting
out a small exhale.  And then, from the corner of his eye, he could see
Gayla grinning widely at him and flashing him a thumbs up.
     The Captain only had time to faintly nod his and smile, when through
the noisy din of the howling wind from outside they could hear the
unmistakable sound of shuttle engines.  The glare of landing lights
managed to pierce through the downpour and the people up front could see
the rescue shuttle land some fifteen metrones away putting it at a point
where it would be equidistant to both the wrecked shuttle and the
landram.
     "Okay," Bojay rose.  "Let's get going."
     One-by-one, they made their way out of the wrecked shuttle and
through the rain sprinted across toward the now open hatch of the rescue
shuttle.  All except for Lepus, who took his steps in the downpour
slowly, and with his head bowed as if he didn't care whether he caught a
disease from staying out in the rain too long.
     Komma was the first to board the shuttle, followed by Gayla and
Clement.  Once Bojay was on and saw Apollo, he managed a smile and
extended his hand so they could clasp it in the ritual warrior's
handshake.
     "Thanks," Bojay said gratefully.
     "What friends are for," Apollo said, feeling relieved that the worst
hadn't happened to him.
     Bojay turned his attention to Cassiopeia, who had risen from her
seat and was helping to put blankets over the drenched Gayla and Clement.
     "Cassiopeia, you'd better get to the landram and help Nestor.  Demos
is in real bad shape and could use some more anti-biotic before you move
him over here."
     The blonde med-tech nodded, "I'll look him over and see how he is. 
Apollo, as soon as I'm on the landram, I'll tie in to your com-line and
let you know how long it'll take to safely move him."
     "Okay, you do that," Apollo nodded as Cassiopeia descended the hatch
into the storm and hurried across to the nearby landram, nearly bumping
in to Lepus, who only now had reached the shuttle and made his way
aboard.
     "Apollo," Bojay asked with concern as the two captains stood alone
at the front, now that Mackin had moved aft to help settle the others in. 
"What did you see?"
     "One death confirmed.  One of the guards.  We didn't get close to
see which one, but...it was really a horrible sight what happened to
him."
     "Just one?" Bojay frowned.  "That was all?"
     "That's all we saw."
     "I see," Silver Spar Leader rubbed his chin, "Then...that means it's
still possible Pili and one of the other guards are still out there."
     "I'm not so sure," Apollo shook his head, "The guard wasn't inside
the landram when it crashed.  His body was too far away from the
wreckage.  If he got caught up in the storm and was carried that far
away, then who knows how far away the other two bodies are.  Whatever the
case, we'd never be able to scan for the bodies even if the weather
wasn't already fouling up our scanners as it is."
     "Well yeah, but..." Bojay stopped and then decided he had to try
another approach, "How long until the typhon arrives?"
     "Sheba says it's picking up speed.  Our timetable on when the outer
band hits us is under a centar now, and once it gets here, there's no way
we can reach escape velocity safely with our full complement aboard. 
That means we have to clear off the instant Cassiopeia gets Nestor and
Demos aboard."
     Bojay uneasily took a breath, "Apollo...is there any way Sheba can
readjust her scan to concentrate on human life forms rather than the
weather?  If we know what the timetable is on the typhon, then maybe she
can afford to concentrate on that for now and intensify the search
parameter and give us a better indicator that they can't be alive out
there."
     "If Sheba does that then she can't detect any cyclones that might
drop in on us unannounced before the typhon gets here.  That's why she
hasn't done that sooner because your security dictated that we keep a
vigilant eye on those patterns.  And our security needs it now too."
     "Well now wait a centon," Bojay protested mildly, "We haven't had
cyclone trouble in this region for the better part of a few centars now."
     "And I almost passed through one on my way down, and if Sheba hadn't
been monitoring that, we'd have been dead!" Apollo cut him off.  "Bojay,
I'm sorry, I'd love to have her do it, but I can't afford to take that
risk when the odds are too long."
     "One centon," Bojay said quietly, "That's all it would take.  Just
one lousy centon."
     "It could all be over in one centon," Apollo wasn't going to raise
his voice or turn this into an argument.  He understood where Bojay was
coming from, and why Silver Spar Leader was reluctant to write off two
people he had been responsible for as dead.  But the greater good of
saving everyone else was all that was on Apollo's mind now.
     The com-line then sounded, "Apollo, this is Cassiopeia, I'm inside
the landram with Nestor and Demos."
     Apollo picked up the com-line, "How's he look?"
     "Bad," the med-tech said bluntly.  "We're going to pull up the
landram alongside the hatch opening so we don't have to move Demos in
this rain."
     "The landram can't be alongside us when we take off, Cassiopeia."
     "I know, Nestor will drive it back out to a safe distance once Demos
is aboard the shuttle."
     "Okay, fine.  Get going."
     The black-haired captain looked back at Bojay who had a determined
expression on his face.
     "Apollo," he said, "I'm going to assume that you have no intention
of abandoning those three people out there if an emergency came up, and
that you plan on giving them the five to ten centons it will take to get
Demos aboard and secured, and then for Nestor to drive out and abandon
the landram and get back aboard.  So that means if you ask Sheba right
now to take one or two centons to scan for life forms in as wide a zone
from this section instead of the weather patterns, it's really not going
to make any difference, is it?"
     A faint smile came up at the corner of Apollo's mouth, "Guess it
doesn't," he said and then adjusted his com-line setting so he could pass
the word to Sheba.


     "Dam-age to main re-lay has com-pro-mised integ-rity of sys-tem."  
Pili repeated the words slowly.
     "Main relay," Thomson tried to ponder the meaning of it all.  "Where
is this main relay located?  Is it in this complex?"
     He then had to wait for Pili to translate again, and then for the
voice to respond, and for Pili to repeat again.  Now that this had been
going on for a number of centons, Thomson's frustration over the fact
that it couldn't go any faster was starting to grate on his nerves.  
     "Main re-lay is not here," Pili said, "Located much further away."
     "Can this be fixed from this location?" Thomson could think of no
other question that could cut to the chase, "Is there anything that can
be done from right here?"
     Again, the wait.  Pili then listened closely to the response and
then uttered one word, which was followed by the Kobollian voice again. 
     Great, she probably asked him to repeat that.
     When Pili translated though, she suddenly smiled, "He say yes.  Can
be corrected from this complex.  This complex control entire system."
     "Great," Thomson nodded, "How can it be fixed?"
     As Pili relayed the question and he waited for a response, the
Security Guard felt every part of his body tensing up.  This was by far
the most critical answer he'd be waiting for.
     He heard the Kobollian voice speak, which was one reassuring sign. 
Pili seemed to nod several times, and then uttered some short phrases,
which were answered by more short phrases.
     The Kian then turned to Thomson, "Mas-ter control pan-el. 
Com-pen-sate for damaged re-lay."
     "Where's the master control panel?" he blurted out his words.
     Pili pointed to the consoles one row over, "Say there.  Con-trol is
from there."
     Thomson went around to the other side and stood in front of the
console Pili had indicated.  This one had a much larger monitor and was
lined with three knobs and four different colored buttons.  It was more
elaborate than any of the other consoles he had studied earlier, so he
could buy the idea of it being the one that served as a master control
terminal.
     "What do I do?"
     She repeated the question and then after hearing the response, she
frowned slightly and turned back to Thomson.  "Question not sufficient."
     "Huh?"  The guard's face twisted, "What does that mean, question not
sufficient?"
     "Not suff...I sorry.  Not spec-if-ic."
     "Oh, yeah.  Yeah, I see.  Ah...what do you do to activate the master
control panel and compensate for the damaged relay?"
     He nervously tapped his foot as he waited for the translation and
response process to complete itself.
     Pili turned back to him again.  "Activate mas-ter mon-i-tor to
pin-point dam-aged re-lay."
     "What activates the master monitor?  A knob, a button?" he realized
he was going to have to ask more detailed questions to speed up the
process.  God only knew what sort of race against time they might be
dealing with as far as what the landing party above might be thinking.


     "I'm sorry, Apollo," Sheba reported grimly from above, "There's no
trace of any active human life on the surface fanning out sixty square
kilometrones from your position.  Given the approximate point that
landram was in on its original search expedition, there's no way humanly
possible for anyone alive to be outside that zone."
     "Okay," Apollo said with an edge of sadness.  He knew that the loss
of two men from Colonial Security would be a bitter pill for Lieutenant
Castor, as the relatively new head of the division, to swallow.  And he
knew that the responsibility for telling the Kian Kudur-Mubag that his
mate had perished, would likely fall to Boomer or Athena, given their
role in originally bringing the Kians aboard the Galactica.  That wasn't
a task he would want to bestow on either of them.  "It was worth a shot,
trying.  At least we can leave with a clear conscience."
     "I'm switching my scanners back to weather observation.  I won't be
leaving until I see you out of planet orbit."
     "Copy.  We're about four or five centons away from securing
everything and taking off.  Stand by."
     Apollo switched off the comline and turned to a sad-faced Bojay,
"We've exhausted all options, Bojay."
     "There's just one other possibility I can think of," Silver Spar
leader said with an air of desperation.  "According to Clement, those
ancient systems were shielded from our scanners by neutrino coating. 
What if...well what if they found shelter in a place where neutrino
blocks our ability to scan?"
     "Bojay," Apollo said quietly, "Do you want me to hold everyone here
on the ground with a typhon approaching and send a landram out in these
conditions to look for places lined with neutrino that we couldn't even
detect to begin with?"
     Bojay sighed with resignation and shook his head, "No...that's
asking more than too much, that would be insanity." he sighed, "I'm ready
to go, Apollo."
     Apollo said nothing else as he saw Cassiopeia and Nestor carry the
badly injured Demos through the landram door and up the shuttle ramp
inside the larger vehicle.  Mackin, Lomas and Clement all rushed over to
help the injured man and get him to a place where he could rest
comfortably.  As Cassiopeia moved with them, Nestor disappeared back
inside the landram and a micron later, the vehicle was moving away from
the shuttle so it could be parked a safe distance away for when it would
finally take off.
     All that remained now was for Nestor to return to the shuttle and it
would be time to leave.


     Thomson noticed that Pili was translating at a more rapid-fire pace,
which he felt grateful for.  There was a greater sense of urgency in how
she conducted herself, which indicated that she wasn't naive at all about
the gravity of the situation.
     "Knob on left," she said.  "Activates mas-ter mon-i-tor.  Green
button creates opt-ions for switch-ing to back-up re-lay."
     He realized that Pili had gone to the trouble of asking for
additional information that would be critical, and which would save
valuable time.  Feeling grateful, he quickly turned the knob on the left
and saw the large monitor screen light up.  A readout resembling a
scanner now filled it with a green luminescence, punctuated by a flashing
red x in the upper lefthand corner which he knew indicated the damaged
relay.
     Thomson pressed the green button, and suddenly a different voice,
this one female, burst from the speakers, causing Pili to bolt her head
up in startled fright.
     "What did it say?" he turned around.
     The Kian collected herself, tugging slightly at the animal skins she
wore, "Ask...ask for where to re-direct re-lay."
     "Anywhere!" his voice rose, "Just any one that will get this planet
functioning again!"
     Pili repeated the words rapidly, but then the male voice kicked in.
     "Not his function, must input master con-trol unit."
     "The one that just spoke?" Thomson felt his heart pounding.  If
anything, the fact that they were getting so close to a result only made
his inner sense of fear increase.  "Tie in to it!"
     "Can not," Pili shook her head.  "I on-ly can talk to...first voice. 
Other...not tied in to con-verse."
     "What?" he looked up in confusion and then slowly, realized what it
meant.  The female voice was nothing more than a voice spewing out
results stemming from what the operator did on the master computer.  It
was waiting for the next human input before it would say anything else.
     "Ask the first voice why he can't tell me what other re-lay to tie
into!"  Thomson shouted.
     Another agonizing half centon went by and Pili looked back.
     "Options are on mon-i-tor.  You may de-cide."
     Thomson looked at the master monitor and now could see several lines
of Kobollian script.  Script that he could not read, and Pili could not
read either.  All of them clearly indicating what he could do to transfer
operations to another relay.  But without a translation, he would only be
able to make a blind guess, and that carried the serious risk of
something going dangerously awry.
     "Ask it to verbalize the options!"
     Thomson noticed a harsher edge in the male voice when it gave its
response.  Pili seemed to tremble slightly as she translated, "Options
are on mon-i-tor.  If you can tie-in to central con-trol, you should know
how to read options."
     "Frack!" Thomson exploded.  The last thing the Kobollians
undoubtedly had ever anticipated was the possibility of someone able to
speak, but not read Kobollian ending up in this place.
     He looked back at the monitor.  Three lines of script overlay the
central monitor telling him the options he had.  As he looked down at the
panel, he couldn't even tell if it meant options tied to the three knobs,
or did it mean three of the four colored buttons, with the green one
eliminated now that he'd used that?  Or was the green one still involved? 
Was there a shut-down option?  A self-destruct option?  The possibilities
were more endless than his mind could imagine.
     If he didn't get any new information out of the control system soon,
then this was all going to come down to one giant guess, upon which he
was certain their survival hung in the balance.
     

     As soon as Nestor was aboard, soaking wet from his sprint across the
surface from the abandoned landram to the shuttle, Apollo hit the switch
that closed the hatch and then went over the final checklist procedure
with Mackin.  And then, making sure everyone was strapped in and secure,
he brought the shuttle's engines to life and maneuvered it into position
for take off.
     In the front row of passenger seats, Bojay found himself staring
straight ahead, his eyes and expression largely blank, though inside his
thoughts were only on how what he had hoped would be a promising
expedition that would bring tangible benefits to the Fleet, was only
going to end in tragedy.
     He then became aware of a sensation of touch.  Of someone touching
his hand.  He turned and saw Gayla looking back at him.  Her expression
different from what he'd seen throughout their time together on the
planet.  For the first time there was an empethetic warmth to her face. 
One that helped to soften her features and made her look more beautiful
than he realized she was.
     Bojay said nothing back to her, but he could tell that he didn't
need to say anything.  She could sense his gratitude.  Gayla continued
holding his hand as they felt the jolt of the shuttle rising from the
surface.


     Thomson rubbed his forehead nervously as he continued to ponder the
options before him.  The best case scenario he could think of was that
there existed a large number of back-up systems throughout the planet,
and that any button he pressed or knob he turned would just transfer
power systems to one of them, and that no alternate options existed.  But
that was just one best case scenario, and he felt his mind burdened by
the knowledge that too many worse case scenarios seemed to exist.
     "Damn it," he whispered, wondering if his mind could handle the
strain of the responsibility.  "What is the right way?  Give me a sign. 
Please."
     As he continued to ponder the choices, he heard a low murmurring
behind him once again.  He looked back and saw Pili on her knees, with
eyes closed and head tilted upward as she recited prayers and
incantations once again.  
     Frack, does she have to do that?  He felt his annoyance returning. 
He wanted to shout at her to shut up and let him concentrate, but he
realized that wouldn't solve anything, and Pili would in all likelihood
just protest in her quiet, wide-eyed way that she needed to look to her
gods more than ever.  And all that would happen would be a protracted
conversation that would only waste time more than ever.
     He went back to the console and studied it again, wanting to see if
there was anything he could extrapolate that could help him with the
decision.  
     Wait a centon...Thomson thought.  Why am I thinking there's
something *I* can extrapolate from this?  She might be illiterate, but if
she can speak the language okay to converse, then shouldn't there at
least be something *she* could extrapolate?
     He looked back at Pili who had now brought her outstretched arms
together in closed palms as she continued to murmurr her prayers.  The
security guard was on the verge of calling her over, when she suddenly
rose to her feet and opened her eyes.  Her expression was now different
from what he'd seen before.  The wide-eyed naive quality she seemed to
perpetually exude now had been replaced by a look of pure...intensity.
     "Pili," Thomson said gently.  "Could you come over here please?"
     The Kian made her way forward, her head held high.  
     "I help," she said as she stood next to him.  "The gods give me
strength."
     "Yes," Thomson nodded, "Look at the console.  Do the symbols remind
you of things you saw at home but could never completely understand?  Do
the colors or shapes signify anything your mother the..." he tried to
recall the title she had used, "LoreSpeaker ever talked to you about?"
     Pili looked down at the console.  "Colors.  Red...Sign of Evil One. 
Never used for good.  Such was way from beginning." she glanced at the
screen.  "See sign of death.  Death!"
     Thomson tried to digest the information.  Red button...sign of death
in the option list... Destruct option keyed to the red button?  Okay,
eliminate that one.  Won't press that one.
     "What else?" he pressed on, "What else?" 
     She studied the console further.  "Green...start of new season. 
Renewal of all things good...Blue...sign of support and strength.  Last
one..." she squinted, "Color of sun.  Life giver."
     Green...start and renewal.  That button turned this on.  Okay,
that's the start button and maybe if I hit that again either nothing will
happen or the power will go out.  Yellow...life giver...maybe that one is
the main control for the system that's broken down and hitting that one
means I'd do something to the main system which would probably have no
effect.  Blue...sign of support and strength.  Support and strength.
     That was the closest description to something that conceivably
indicated a tie-in to a back-up system.  It was the best option he had to
go on.  It meant eliminating the other two knobs from consideration in
the equation but since one knob was tied in to the monitor unit only, it
was probably a reasonable inference that the other two knobs were tied
into the monitor and not the control of the systems.
     Okay, Thomson braced himself.  Pili, you've talked me into it.  Blue
it is.
     The security guard's finger was trembling as he brought it down on
the button and pressed it as hard as he could.


     As soon as Sheba got word from Apollo that the shuttle had taken
off, she redoubled her concetration on the weather scan.  She saw that
cyclone activity in the area had dminished, but that seemed to coincide
with an increased speed in the typhon's trajectory.  Still, it was
looking good for the shuttle.  In all likelihood they would reach escape
velocity from the planet with a good twenty-five centons to spare before
the typhon would have had any impact on them.
     "We're clear of the upper atmosphere and are above the weather
patterns now," Apollo radioed.  "Can't do a thing to us now."
     Sheba smiled and slowly rested her helmet against the cockpit
headrest.  For the first time since Apollo had broken the news to her
about the landing party being in trouble, she could relax.
     And to think it's worked out that Bojay will be my stand-in after
all, she thought, and she found her smile widening.  The Lords be praised
that it's all been made to work out.
     From her position, she could now see the shuttle coming into view,
starting first as a tiny speck and then gradually increasing in size as
it broke free of the upper stratosphere and left the planet below.  Sheba
found it a wonderful sight to see it far away from the swirling clouds of
nature's fury beneath them.
     "Red Two, this is Alpha Shuttle," Apollo radioed.  "We're headed for
home.  No reason for you to stand by any longer, so you can get back to
the Galactica ahead of us and report on the casualties."
     "Affirmative," Sheba overcame the happiness she was feeling and kept
her tone professional.  "Going to make one final record scan of the
planet for the records before leaving planet orbit.  The Commander will
probably need all the data he can get," she paused, "Just in case some
certain people decide to ask him some stupid questions later on."
     "Yeah, I know what you mean."  Apollo allowed himself a chuckle that
wasn't mirthless.  "Okay, see you back at the Club."
     "Maybe some of the stash for the reception can get broken out a
little bit ahead of time?" Sheba joined in.  "I think everyone aboard's
entitled to some."
     "I won't complain." Apollo chuckled again, and then added slyly,
"Our com-line is secure, incidentally."
     "In that case, I love you," Sheba said.  "See you-----," she
abruptly stopped as she caught something out of the corner of her eye.
     "Sheba?" Apollo didn't understand why she'd broken off in
mid-sentence.  "You copy?"
     "Apollo," his fiancee whispered in amazement, "Look down at the
planet.  The typhon's breaking up!"
     "Huh?" Apollo wasn't sure he'd heard right.  "Breaking up?"
     "Yes, it's dissipating and...let me scan this.  Oh good Lords of
Kobol, I don't believe it.  Weather patterns all over the region are
returning to normal!  Apollo..." she hesitated, "Apollo, if there are
automatic systems down there that were controlling the weather, it almost
looks like they're kicking back in again!"
     "But how can that be?" Apollo was baffled.  "That's an intricate
system down there...and if there's a back-up in case part of it failed,
why did it wait to kick in until now?"
     "Apollo," Sheba kept her tone careful and cautious, "Don't you think
it's possible that someone down there fixed the controls?"
     There was a silence that lasted a half centon.
     "Apollo?" she asked.
     "I just told Bojay what you just told me," her fiancee said, "He
says it has to mean that.  We can't go back and check because we've got
to get Demos back to the Galactica Life Station, but...Sheba, if the
weather down there is normal and safe, then that means you can check
things out if you want to."
     "I'm going to scan that region a million times if I have to," Sheba
said with determination, "I've been in a powered down mode for so long,
my fuel situation will be fine for another twelve centars if need be."
     "I'll have the Galactica get a team of vipers back out here to help
you, in case you haven't pinpointed them."
     "And another shuttle to take them back...if it's both of them."  
Sheba shook her head in awed amazement, "Apollo, if it had been just two
centons later, neither of us would have been here to see that change in
the weather."
     "Sheba," he said quietly, "I don't even want to think about that
possibility.  Now or ever.  Let's...let's just praise the Lords it didn't
work out that way."
     "Yes," Sheba said as she switched her scans to concentrate on human
life forms once again.  "Let's do that.  Now you get going and get Demos
back safe."
     There was nothing more from her fiancee as the shuttle began moving
on an arc that would take it back to the Galactica.


     The instant Thomson brought his finger up from the button, there was
that instantaneous feeling that nothing had happened as a result of his
action.  But then, he suddenly saw the three lines of script disappear
from the monitor, replaced by a single line in much bolder graphics.  And
then... the sound of the female voice filled the chamber.
     Pili suddenly brightened.  "Back-up en-gaged," she said, "New re-lay
now controll-ing weather on planet again."
     The security guard let out a sigh of relief, that he'd made the
right decision.  He felt like hugging the Kian, but knew that would not
have been appropriate.
     "Thanks for your help, Pili," he said with sincerity, "I literally
couldn't have done any of this without you."
     "The gods help me to help you," Pili said simply, "I only do their
bidd-ing."
     He smiled wryly.  Maybe I really will convert to her religion when
all this is over.
     Practicality then returned to the security guard though.  He
realized that fixing the problem of the weather control systems didn't
necessarily mean the end of their plight.  Did the other members of the
landing party now realize that the return to normal meant their comrades
were alive somewhere?  Or were they already dead and unable to realize
that?  Orhad they already been rescued and couldn't realize it any
longer?
     And one other question still remained.  They had come down to this
complex from a cave that had an entry point sealed off by a fallen tree
dropped in front of it by one of the cyclones.  How did they find their
way out of this place and back to the surface?  
     "Pili," he knew he had to stay calm.  "Ask the main computer about
pathways that lead to the surface.  Is the one we came down the only one
that leads to here?"
     The Kian made her way back to the other row of the complex so she
could communicate with the central control.  This time, Thomson didn't
tense up during the wait period for the translation.
     "Many caves lead here," Pili said after the male voice had finished
speaking.  "Many paths fun-nel back."
     "Okay," he felt a new wave of relief.  "Then in that case, I guess
we just take any other one we find and head out."
     Pili stepped foward and stretched out her arms again, just as she'd
done before when she'd sensed and found the path that had led them to
this place.  At this point, Thomson was determined to defer to her
judgment without any question.
     Two centons went by as Pili worked her way forward from the lights
of the complex, back toward the darkened areas lining the walls, her
hands still outstretched, and the soft incantations emitting from her
voice.  Finally, she came to a stop and pointed.
     "This way.  Path lead up to new cave.  Like home."
     Thomson followed her into the darkness.  He felt absolutely no
trepidation at all, as he stretched out his arms to touch the sides and
maintain his balance in the dark.
     Up an incline they went for over several centons, until finally
Thomson became aware of something.  The sight of sunlight streaming in
from somewhere ahead.
     "We reach cave!" Pili pointed proudly.
     From out of the mouth that led from the path to the cave, they could
look ahead and see the opening some fifty metrones away.  Nothing but
bright afternoon sunshine, and with it a look at what seemed a devastated
landscape of uprooted trees and dead livestock.
     They made their way forward and stepped outside.  Thomson took a
deep breath of air and found that all his emotions were positive,
notwithstanding the scenes of how nature's fury had inflicted such a
heavy toll on the planet surface.
     Now all that remained was whether or not rescue would come to them
at last.  If not...
     He stopped as he realized that the ramifications of being left
behind weren't quite what they'd been only centons before.  With the
planet's weather control functioning again, that meant that conditions
were once again at their peak for finding food and water to survive
indefinitely.  And that also meant...he'd be stranded here forever with
Pili
     As his eyes wandered over her, taking in her beautiful, skimpily
clad form, Thomson almost wondered if being stranded here was something
he'd actually prefer at this point.
     Before his mind could go any further with that thought, he suddenly
became aware of a high-pitched noise coming from above.  Thomson and Pili
both looked up and saw the unmistakable shape of a viper in rapid descent
mode.  They stood transfixed, watching the Colonial craft glide in to a
precision landing just fifteen metrones from where they stood at the cave
entrance.
     Well, Thomson chuckled as he started to move toward the Viper, so
much for melodrama.  Back to the happy reality.  And that's the way I'd
really like things to end.

                         Chapter Nine

     "The return of Captain Bojay's landing party, two days ago, was
greeted with both relief and excitement that the planet's resources would
be available for harnessing after all.  Tempered with that of course, the
sadness over the loss of Sergeant Jacob of Colonial Security, whose body
was recoverd for proper burial on the planet with full military honors."
     Adama hesitated slightly, wondering which way he should go next in
his journal entry, before resuming.
     "Meritorious conduct has been recognized for the roles played in
this recent expedition by Captain Bojay, Sergeant Thomson, Corporal
Komma, Med-Tech Nestor and Agro-Techs Gayla and Pili.  At Sergeant
Thomson's recommendation, Agro-Tech Pili will be given the medallion of
Distinguished Service, the highest civilian honor of our people.  It is,
by my recollection, the first time such an honor has ever been given to
one who was born outside any of the Twelve Worlds.
     "Yet even admist these honors, there were unpleasant tasks to
perform as a result of this mission.  Sergeant Lepus of Colonial Security
is now suspended from all duty while facing charges of insubordination
and conduct unbecoming a warrior.  If convicted before Tribunal he could
face as much as six sectars in confinement, in addition to a dishonorable
discharge.  I feel that in my likely role as Chief Overseer for this
tribunal, that if guilt be proved, I shall have little choice but to
recommend maximum punishment, if only to set a much needed example to the
rest of our ranks of how total discipline and respect for the chain of
command must be maintained at all times.  Or else, we run the risk of
weakening ourselves in ways our enemies could not be able to accomplish.
     "For now, the Fleet remains on a heading toward this planet, with
advance teams and supply freighters sent ahead at top speed so they might
harness each and every last resource in food, water and tylium that is
available.  The best estimates from our scientists at this time, suggests
that by the time we resume our journey, we should have our main supply
problems dealt with for upwards of the next yahren...or perhaps even two. 
I certainly consider it a blessing from the Almighty that we were led to
this place, and that in spite of the pitfalls and trials our landing
party was forced to endure, the greater needs of our people will still be
met.  And certainly, with our being able to utilize this planet, it gives
me great satisfaction to know that this sad incident that resulted in the
loss of one of our men, will in no ways give the likes of Sire Antipas or
Sire Domra ammunition to use against me in the future.
     "As our teams continue to study this planet, and the ancient control
complex, a greater understanding of its purpose is being revealed to us. 
Kobollian linguists confirm that our ancestors who set upon the journey
to Earth, and who we now know lost some of their members who came to
settle both Ki and Boron-Din, found that this planet offered the richest
abundance of natural resources that they felt could sustain them for the
rest of their journey to Earth.  But the weather conditions presented
them with difficulty in fully harvesting that which they needed, so they
put their advanced technological minds to work and constructed the
weather control complex as a means of facilitating their ability to
harvest the planet.  And once they had finished their tasks, they decided
to have the system maintained permanently to keep one section of the
planet free from the calamitous weather.  This, they did in the belief
that others of their brethren whom they hoped might follow their path to
Earth one day, would be able to utilize this planet as a way station for
their journey as well.
     "Despite the setbacks encountered, the hopes of our ancestors now
lie fulfilled.  And from it, we draw strength from their example, and
renewed hope that we too shall fulfill our destiny on Earth, just as our
ancestors did."
     The Commander leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on the
holopicture on his table of a beaming Apollo and Sheba.  He allowed
himself a smile as he went on.
     "With all urgent matters taken care of, the way is clear now for the
event I have waited so many sectans to see come to pass at last.  The
sealing of Apollo and Sheba, tomorrow night in the Great Hall.  With
Bojay to act as Commander Cain's stand-in, just as she had hoped.  There
is no doubt in my mind, that it shall be a triumphal occasion to remember
for all the rest of my days."


     Starbuck's morning had begun with the realization that he would be
taking part in his first major deep patrol in quite some time.  With
Apollo temporarily detached from viper duty, that meant that he'd be
drawing a substitute wingman to fly with him.  He had been relieved to
hear that Boomer, despite being commander of a different squadron, had
stepped up to the forefront and was willing to go with him.  Red Leader
was pretty sure that having an old friend alongside him for the next ten
centars would be the best thing Starbuck could ask for.
     The blonde warrior got up from his bunk and came over to his locker,
opening it and studying the uniforms that hung neatly inside.  Beige,
beige or beige, he sighed.  The choices were overwhelming. 
     Starbuck carelessly brushed his damp hair back off his face with his
fingers. His head felt like it was full of mushies. Light and fluffy
ones. No doubt, they were beige too. Every one of them.  Maybe he had had
one . . . or possibly two . . . drinks too many last night in the
Officer's Club when all of the warriors had formally given Apollo his
send-off before the sealing ceremony.  Even though Apollo had dropped a
few hints about not wanting the warriors to go to the trouble of rounding
up stashes of ambrosia, and expensive edibles pilfered from the Rising
Star, the captain had pretty much accepted it as inevitable that he was
going to get one.  All of the warriors remembered how the last time they
had tried to give Apollo a send-off it had ended in the disaster of
Boomer transmitting an alien virus to all the pilots of Blue Squadron
that had nearly killed them all.  Now that Fate had given them another
opportunity, they weren't about to let it get away from them again, and
so they had inundated Apollo with good-natured put-downs and toasts that
had lasted well into the early hours of the cycle.
     Starbuck had spent more than three centars at the party, and then
he'd quietly slipped out, but not to bed as there was something more
important awaiting him, even more important than honoring his best
friend.  And then he'd made it back to his bunk and had even managed to
rack rack up his prerequisite four centars of sleep.  Well, almost. Close
enough anyhow. Dr. Salik wouldn't need to know he was a bit shy of his
mark or that it wasn't consecutive. Besides, he was fairly certain Salik
didn't actually say 'consecutive'. It just seemed like a good idea, that
was all, however unlikely. Maybe Tarnia had mentioned it. That was
probably it.
     "Better get a move on, Starbuck," Boomer reminded him as he walked
by from the turbowash, a towel wrapped about his waist.  In contrast to
Starbuck, Red Leader seemed more refreshed and vigorous.
     "Right, in a centon." Starbuck replied, finally reaching into his
locker and pulling out a clean tunic. At least he thought it was clean.
He sniffed it just to make sure. Just what had he done with his clothes
as he peeled them off last night? He looked around blearily trying to
remember.
     Last night seemed like last secton. It wasn't as if he had had a lot
to drink. Maybe two or three ales.  Oh, and there was that Protean
ambrosia he'd had left over from his mission of subterfuge aboard the
Rising Star that had led to the break-up of the Association crime ring.
Pretty sure he'd had a half bottle of that and jealously guarded the
contents from some of the other warriors who'd never had a taste of the
stuff...
     Whatever. 
     He rubbed his eyes, calculating whether he had time to get to the
mess and inhale a large java or two before patrol. Lords, why couldn't
Vipers come equipped with cup holders? A definite design flaw. Maybe it
had something to do with the launch, but surely to God they could come up
with an appropriate cup for that. Along that line, why wasn't there a
java dispenser in the billet? Or the launch bay? He'd have to look into
that. Every squadron needed their own personal barrista. It really should
be mandatory. Now, how could he get a piece of the action? What if . . .
? 
     "Starbuck, we launch in twenty centons.  If you're late, I'd have to
put you on report, and that's the last thing I want to do." Boomer was
suddenly looming over him, fully clothed and pressed.
     "Plenty of time, Boomer." Starbuck murmured as he pulled his tunic
on. He carefully eyed the front of it. Definitely clean. Well, other than
that little piece of . . . whatever it was. He picked at it, and it
cooperated fully with an easy removal. Yep, it was clean, all right.
     "You look a little rough, Bucko," Boomer said with a faint edge of
concern, "You know, it isn't too late to back out of this patrol if you
don't feel up to it."
     "C'mon Boomer, you should know not to talk to me until after I have
my java." Starbuck smiled at his friend ruefully.
     The blonde warrior's tone made Boomer purse his lips and realize he
shouldn't have bothered to ask.  "I should know not to talk to you,
period." Boomer replied, raising his hands and walking away.
     Starbuck shook his head at his friend's retreating back. Of course,
he would have had a better sleep if he had just crashed at Cassie's
quarters as she'd suggested. It had been damn tempting too. A slow smile
spread across his face as he thought back to the time he had spent with
his beautiful, blonde lady.  She had dropped him a hint earlier in the
afternoon that it would be to his advantage if he didn't stay at the
party too late, and that if he found an opportunity slip out of the OC
sometime after 2330, there'd be a surprise waiting for him.
     Even amidst his celebrating for Apollo, he hadn't lost track of the
time.  If anything, the thought of Cassiopeia waiting for him outside
couldn't possibly escape his mind on a night when he was getting too many
reminders of the happy relationship between Apollo and Sheba that was
about to culminate in marriage.  And so, when his wrist chronometer said
2330, he managed to slip his way out of the OC (thankful that it came
before he'd have to hear some boring toast of honor to Apollo from
Greenbean, who he knew was terrible at those kind of things) into the
corridor.  And almost immediately, his eyes beheld the sight of
Cassiopeia, standing proudly before him.  
     She had been striking.  Her blonde hair had framed her fine features
and he had noticed she seemed to be wearing it a little longer once again
as it lightly caressed her bare shoulders. He had briefly wondered why he
hadn't noticed that the last time they were together. Her aquamarine
dress had clung to her slender figure accenting each and every curve that
he knew intimately. The colour had made her eyes shine like beacons as
she set her sights on him. His gaze had run over her hungrily and he
realized it had been way too long since they had spent some time together
alone. Lords, it had been so long.
     "Can I offer you the last of some Protean collection ambrosia,
Beautiful?" he had asked huskily as she walked up to him.
     "In there?" she coyly teased.  "What would happen if all those
gung-ho pilots suddenly saw a woman crashing a send-off party?"
     Starbuck slowly nodded.  "Then I'd get to learn what it's like to be
noduled."
     "And I wouldn't want that to happen to you," Cassie had purred back
at him, a lascivious grin on her lovely face.  "Besides, my mother always
told me not to accept drinks from strangers."
     "Well, mothers are supposed to have your best interests in mind."
Starbuck had nodded nonchalantly. "I did smuggle a Skorpian sweetnut out. 
Care for one?" He had leaned closer to her, breathing in her alluring
scent, as he pulled a small open bag out of his tunic.  . He had held her
gaze the entire time as he watched her eyebrows arch and a devilish grin
cross her face.
     She had chuckled as she grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled
his head down to hers. "Did you just offer me a sweet . . .?" she had
started to whisper in his ear.
     "Nut." He had grinned cheekily as he completed her sentence quickly,
and then had started as her teeth grazed his earlobe ever so slightly.
Her breath had been warm on his neck. "Lords, Cass . . . "
     It was like a current had run straight through his body. Or maybe
that was a bad analogy considering his recent experiences with a certain
shape-shifting Ziklagi. He  reached for her, brushing his fingers along
the soft skin of her cheek and then lightly fingering her golden tresses.
"You're breathtaking tonight."
     "Just tonight?" Cassie had asked capturing his fingers in her own
and nipping on his index finger.
     "Especially tonight," he had replied as he leaned down and ever so
slowly and fleetingly caressed her lips with his own.  "You weren't
kidding when you said getting away from that madhouse would be worth the
effort."
     "I hope Apollo doesn't hold it against you for slipping out."
     "Hey, he really doesn't like being there anymore than I did. 
Listening to Jolly, Greenbean and Giles tell all kinds of off-color
jokes...Lords, the things they said.  Why if you heard me repeat them..."
he then trailed off purposefully with a grin.
     "Tease," she had accused, her pupils dilated as she gazed back at
him. She had wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and smiled as he
took her hands and pulled her to her feet.  
     "What did your mother tell you about kissing on the first date?" he
had asked her as he pulled her body tightly to him, an arm around her,
and tilted her chin up to look at him. He could feel every curve pressed
against him and his body was reacting accordingly."
      "That it sends a definite message to the man you're kissing,"
Cassie had replied provocatively. Her palm had rested over his heart and
she rubbed herself sensuously against him ever so subtly as she watched
his eyes smolder with a growing need.
     "Your mother was a wise woman," Starbuck had responded hoarsely. He
cleared his throat. "As a measure of my great respect for her, I think I
should . . . uh . . . walk you home."
     She had laughed at that. However, it had taken mere centons for the
two to head down the empty corridor and take the closest turbolift to her
level. In only a few more centons they were bursting through her doorway
and hastily sealing it as they clung together passionately while crossing
the cramped space and blindly making their way into her sleeping chamber.
She had been just as enthusiastic as Starbuck for a passionate encounter. 

     The early hours of the cycle had been phenomenal for them both...But
after that...after that...
     Frack.
     Shaken back to the present, Starbuck shook his head, grabbed his
helmet and marched down to the launch bay.

     Cassiopeia stared into the creamy depths of her hot java. Stirring,
stirring. She had her man on her mind. The previous night hadn't gone
quite the way she had imagined. Oh, well, the seduction had been
titillating and Starbuck had certainly played his assigned role with
relish. Before she knew it they were back in her quarters, just about
tripping over one another in their frenzied desire to feel skin against
skin. But,still . . . It was almost as though he had been avoiding her
recently. He seemed almost uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze the
few times they had found the time to get together.  
     Cassiopeia knew she had every reason to be concerned about him. He
had been through Hades and back with his recent training mission when one
cadet under his tutelage had died and another had resigned. He had
admitted he couldn't give her many details as much of it was classified
information, but she had seen how shaken and tense he had been when she
had collected him from the Life Station and encouraged him to return with
her to her quarters. 
     Oh, she had certainly managed to help him relax ultimately, using
her feminine wiles and skills as a former socialator. As she had thought
back sardonically, it was the first time she had ever needed to coerce
Starbuck into making love with her. 
     There had been two reasons, why she'd wanted last night to be
special.  The first had been entirely selfish ones on her part.  Since
coming back from her assignment with the rescue party, she had helped
Sheba out with more last centon preparations for the sealing, and seeing
the glow in Sheba's eyes about her enthusiasm over soon becoming Apollo's
wife, had only filled Cassiopeia with a desire to not be left out any
longer when it came to having some fun with the man she loved.  So that
had been on reason.

     But it went beyond that mere selfish desire for physical
satisfaction with her man.  She had also felt that there was a deeper
need to connect with him physically. As if somehow through their
intimacy, she could let him know that no matter what horrors he had
experienced, that they were over. He could leave them behind knowing he
was safe in her arms once again. Together, they could get through
anything. At least, that was what she had thought.  
     Then, last night, she had started to doze off, cuddled up against
him, sated by a warmth and comfort that filled her after their love
making. Mesmerized by their closeness, the sound of his breathing, the
scent that was uniquely his. Love is a powerful force indeed.
     Suddenly, he had startled and had jerked up so suddenly that she had
almost fallen off the small bed they had shared. His eyes were wide and
he was clearly disoriented as he stared around her room desperately
searching for . . . something, his body tense and ready for action.
     "Starbuck, it's okay. You're in my quarters." Cassiopeia had told
him soothingly.  
     He had taken several short, jagged breaths as he gazed at her
wildly, trying to reorient himself. He finally muttered, "I have to go,
Cass." He had practically leapt off the bed and began pulling his
discarded clothes on.
     The blonde med-tech had tried to get him to stay and to talk about
the terrors that seemed to haunt his dreams, but he had clearly not
wanted to discuss it. Had told her that he simply couldn't discuss it. He
had left with faint shadows under his eyes that had betrayed his
continued lack of sleep, despite the counseling he was receiving. 
     Maybe she should talk to Tarnia. She sighed and briefly shook her
head, knowing full well that Tarnia had a confidential relationship with
her client. All the same, if she could just tell the counselor her
concerns, then at least Tarnia might be able to deal with Starbuck more
effectively. A slow smile spread across her face. She didn't envy Tarnia
her job. Not one iota.
     Oh well, she thought with resignation as she finished her java and
rose.  Back to helping Sheba with her final plans.  And I hope to the
Lords I try not to seem jealous of her and Apollo. 


     The Empyreal Lounge of the Rising Star was the one place on the
luxury ship where people could escape the crowds and enjoy a drink or
light meal in quiet peace.  Built on two levels, it offered customers a
spectacular view of the stars through a translucent porthole that took up
both deck levels.  By far, those who had a private alcove looking out at
the view on the second level, had the best seat in the house...and were
required to pay the highest of sums for the privilege.
     A slightly nervous looking man in the earliest yahrens of
middle-age, wearing clothes that would have identified him more as a
member of the middle class rather than the elite, hesitantly wandered
through the upper level.  The assistant chief steward had told him that
he was expected at a table in the far corner, but he couldn't see anyone
he knew.  Ever since he'd been left with a cryptic message on his telecom
server telling him to come to this place for a matter of "important
business" he'd been feeling ill-at-ease.  The man knew that the potential
existed for some people to use information against him that he would
never want to see become public for as long as he lived.
     "Dr. Colin?"
     He glanced over, surprised to hear his name called by a soft,
feminine voice.  His eyes widened in surprise when he saw it was one of
the most prominent women in all of Colonial Society.
     "Siress Lydia?" he could scarcely believe it.
     "Sit down," the Councilwoman's voice was pleasant, but clearly
all-business.  "I've been expecting you."
     Colin sat down at her table.  The siress was characteristically
dressed in a stylish outfit, her bare arms adorned with golden bracelets,
and matching earrings glowing from her lobes.  
     "I must say, I didn't expect the message I received to have come
from such a prominent member of the Council of Twelve."
     "I'm not the only member of the Council you've had dealings with,
Doctor," Lydia's voice remained business-like, and it was clear she
wasn't going to allow Colin to engage in idle flattery.  "As a matter of
fact, it's your past dealings with Sire Antipas that interest me."
     Colin frowned, "Siress Lydia, I barely know Sire Antipas."
     "Perhaps so from a face-to-face standpoint," Lydia said coolly, "But
you've done him some favors.  In fact, you recently had the opportunity
to do a big favor for a now deceased friend of his named Kimo.  In your
professional capacity as a specialist in facial alteration."
     He froze slightly, "How did you find out?"
     "I have my ways of finding out," Lydia didn't bat an eye.  "But let
me just sum up the essential facts.  You are the only person apart from
myself and Sire Antipas who knows that his bodyguard, Kimo, came in for
some much needed facial alteration after he'd paid a visit to the Amargi,
and did something that caused a most unfortunate explosion that resulted
in the death of Lieutenant Didion, the Chief of Colonial Security."
     Colin opened his mouth to protest, "Wait a centon!  I don't know
what you're talking about!  Yes, it's true I gave facial alteration to
Kimo before he was killed by Dravius, but...you're mistaken, the security
chief was killed by Dravius's co-hort, Jabez."
     "No he wasn't," Lydia's tone remained cool, "The man you operated on
killed the security chief.  And you did so at Sire Antipas's request.  Do
you realize the ramifications?"
     The plastic surgeon shook his head.
     "It means, Doctor, that if certain other people ever found out the
things I know now, it could result in your being implicated as an
accessory to a premeditated termination."  The siress then smiled for the
first time, "But that's not why I wanted to talk to you.  I did so in the
interest of making you an offer that will guarantee your security from
such a charge for the rest of your life."
     Colin wiped away the sweat that had formed on his brow.  "I'm
listening."
     "Sire Antipas and I have recently begun a mutually beneficial
relationship," Lydia said.  "The gossip you hear whispered about this
ship is quite accurate on that point.  However, it is a relationship that
I know Antipas will grow bored and restless with at some point.  When
that time comes, perhaps not for yahrens, but I know it will come just
the same, he will try to find a way of..." she then paused for effect,
"Of trying to extricate himself, undoubtedly by finding someone to do the
kind of work he employed Kimo for."
     He knew right away what she meant.  "How does that concern me?"
     "When that time comes, he'll want your help, just as you've given it
to him before for his purposes." an edge of frost entered Lydia's voice,
"I'm moving now to preempt that.  You are now unofficially on my payroll,
Doctor, and that means for receipt of my considerable wealth, you will
keep me informed on any private matters Sire Antipas seeks to initiate
with you.  Such as whether any "troubleshooters" of his have been
directed to you for matters of future reference."
     "And if I don't keep you informed?" the plastic surgeon quietly
demanded.
     "Oh, nothing," Lydia waved her hand, "I wouldn't publicly implicate
you with the things I know about you, Doctor.  That would only happen if
some...unforeseen accident were to happen to me.  Because if that does
happen, then there are other people on my payroll, with names you will
never know, who will then reveal all the things I know about you.  So you
see, Doctor, my safety is now joined irrevocably at the hip to yours. 
That's why it will always be to your advantage to willingly do favors for
me."  
     Colin frowned slightly, "And that's it?"
     "In full." the siress said, "Do we have an agreement?  I would so
much like to have that understanding in place right now."
     The plastic surgeon suddenly chuckled, "In that case, how could I
possibly refuse?"
     Lydia smiled with an edge of malicious glee as she shook hands with
Colin.  
     I'll do all in my power to keep Antipas under my thumb, she said to
herself.  No matter how much he might try to get out from the
relationship, he'll be trapped because I've pre-empted him on all
possible fronts now.
     And as far as Lydia was concerned, that meant that in the future,
she was going to expect the Libran sire to do more than just give her
constant sexual pleasure.  Things were now reaching a point where she was
soon going to feel comfortable utilizing him as a way of enhancing her
stature...and power on the Council of Twelve.  

     Far away from the scenes of happy planning for a wedding, anguished
memories of a recent trauma, cover-ups and intrigues, and scientists and
tech workers gathering needed supplies, the people of the Colonial Fleet
were very much on the minds of someone who was determined to find
them...and destroy them.
     If he could only get himself out of the predicament he'd found
himself in for the last six sectars of being marooned, all alone on an
isolated planet.
     Baltar readjusted the setting on his short-range transmitter again,
trying to boost the power signal.  For the last few sectans, he'd sensed
something out of the ordinary from the monotonous silence that had
plagued him for the first sectars of his isolation.  He'd been hearing
too many bursts of static on the receiver which indicated that some kind
of presence had wandered into the vicinity of where he was now.  But was
it the long-awaited Cylon taskforce sent out to investigate the
disappearance of the baseship he had helped to destroy with the
information he had bartered with Adama for his freedom?  Or was it some
other force, that he would have reason to fear?  Perhaps the humans from
that Eastern Alliance movement he had worked with during his captivity in
the Colonial Fleet?  The possibilities were endless.
     Today though, he wasn't hearing the bursts of static.  Did that mean
that the presence, whatever it was, had gone now?  Did that mean he was
all alone again, and now forced to face the possibility that the revenge
he wanted over Adama would remain an ever elusive dream to taunt him in
his sleep?
     "You need reassurance again."
     Baltar felt his blood freeze, and he delayed turning around.  He was
trying to convince himself that it had been in his imagination.  Just
like that other time three sectars before.
     When he turned around, he saw the white-robed figure of the man who
had caused him to be imprisoned by Adama.  Just as he had seen him once
before on this planet surface, for but a brief instant.  Offering some
message of "hope."
     "I speak the truth to you now, just as I did then, Baltar," he said. 
"You need to exercise more patience...and faith."
     The human traitor shook his head defiantly, "You do not exist."
     He shrugged, "If that is what you wish to believe.  It does not
change what will be, Baltar.  You will see some old friends again...soon. 
Nothing can ever change that."
     "I say you do not exist!!" Baltar shouted.
     He smiled wickedly at him and then let out a laugh that Baltar found
taunting and irritating.  The traitor put his hands to his ears and
lowered his head, determined to blot the sound out.
     When Baltar finally looked up again, he saw nothing.  And heard
nothing.  
     He let out a smug grunt of satisfaction and then turned back to the
matter of his short-range transmitter.

                    Epilogue

     Thirty guests  were gathered inside the Great Hall of the Galactica. 
A place that always marked the occasion for solemn ceremony aboard the
battlestar, be it the presentation of honors to a great warrior, the
commemoration of a great event in Colonial history, or something more
personal.
     Once before, Apollo had stood in this chamber and pledged his life
unto eternity to a woman named Serina.  It had been a marriage that had
proved short and tragic, when his beloved had lost her life a mere two
cycles later on the sands of the planet Kobol.  For a long time
afterwards, Apollo had felt that his vow to Serina had meant that he
could never seriously contemplate the idea of ever loving a woman again,
let alone becoming sealed again.
     Sheba had then entered his life, and though he had been slow for
some time to acknowledge his feelings for her, he soon came to realize
that something special and new was being presented to him for this stage
of his life, and that to take advantage of it was not a denial of what
Serina had meant to him.  Only an acknowledgment that life had to
continue for those fated to live longer, and that it needed to be enjoyed
still.  If it meant that he was destined to have two special women at
different points in his life, then that was something he was now prepared
to embrace as a blessing.
     And so, Apollo stood at the front and center of the Great Hall, his
father before him holding a family copy of the Book of the Word, waiting
for his bride.
     Cermonial music piped through from a tape player on the Bridge now
filled the chamber and all heads turned to the rear where they saw Sheba
enter, escorted on her right by Bojay.  Most of the people ahhed and let
out gasps of amazement at how stunning she looked in her white sealing
gown.  They also took note of how the neckline had a more daring and
provocative plunging cut to it than was usually the norm for a sealing
gown, exposing a fair amount of cleavage.  A single flower adorned her
hair, which she'd kept long and loose, refusing to do it up as normal
custom dictated.
     Standing among the guests on the left side of the Hall, Athena
couldn't help but smirk faintly.  Sheba, it was worth all that
aggravation the fitter on the Pathmain put you through!  Admit it!
     Finally, Sheba and Bojay came up alongside Apollo.  Silver Spar
Leader then took one step back, preparing himself for when he'd perform
his final ceremonial task, which would come when Adama called on him.
     Adama raised his hand, and on cue, the music faded out (the result
of Omega's careful monitoring of the scene from the Bridge, where he had
been placed in charge of handling all technical details pertaining to the
ceremony).  Everyone gathered in the room looked forward with rapt
attention to the Commander as they waited for him to speak.
     "The sealing of a man and woman is one of the oldest, holiest and
most solemn of traditions in the annals of Colonial Civilization." Adama
began in his most reasonant tone of voice.  "One, in which bonds are
created that are meant to last unto eternity for both who take part. 
Agreeing to share their lives with each other, in every sense."
     He turned to Bojay, "Will Sheba's protector designate consent to her
marriage to this man, Apollo?"
     Sheba turned and looked into Bojay's face, as he stepped forward. 
Her expression was one of pure gratitude.  Bojay was all smiles and
pride.
     But inside, Silver Spar Leader was allowing himself just one last
tiny expression of regret.  Sheba, I'm sorry I was fool enough not to
take advantage of my opportunity.  I'll never make that mistake again the
next time I find someone I think is as wonderful and special as you are.
     Finally, he spoke the words that Commander Cain would have said had
the Juggernaut been present.  "I so consent."
     And having fulfilled his role, Bojay then properly took three steps
back, so as not to intrude any further on a ceremony that now belonged
only to Apollo and Sheba.
     "Apollo will you at this time state your vow of devotion unto
Sheba?"
     Apollo and Sheba turned to face each other and they clasped hands.
     "I pledge myself unto Sheba as her husband for all time, unto the
rest of my life.  I pledge before the Lords of Kobol to protect her and
give my undivided love and devotion to her, so that I may be truly worthy
of this great responsibility."
     "Sheba, will you at this time state your vow of devotion unto
Apollo?"
     Sheba clasped Apollo's hands even tighter.  "I pledge myself unto
Apollo as his wife for all time, unto the rest of my life.  I pledge
before the Lords to honor him and to give him my undivided love and
devotion so that I may be truly worthy of this great responsibility."
     And then, as he had done once before with Apollo and Serina, Adama
removed the ceremonial Council medallion from his neck and wrapped it
about their wrists according to the ancient tradition.
     "These simple words are the most powerful in the universe.  They
seal a union between this man and this woman, which is not only for now
but for all eternity."
     Watching from among the guests gathered behind them, Starbuck found
to his surprise that his eyes were watering up.  Frack, what's with me? 
Why am I feeling so overly emotional?  Is it because I'm seeing someone
so young and happy, just like...He then blinked several times and dimly
shook his head.  Of all times for his mind to suddenly be filled with
horrific memories of the recent past, this could not be one of them.  Not
now.  Damn it, he *owed* Apollo that much!
     He finally felt the ill feeling pass from inside him and he managed
to resume his bearing, as he watched Adama continue.
     "Apollo, Sheba.  Under the eyes of God, and bound by the symbol of
the faith of the Lords of Kobol, I declare you sealed."
     And then, Apollo and Sheba came together in a kiss that was
distinctly less gentle than most people were used to seeing at a sealing
ceremony, and a lot more openly passionate.  If not for the ceremonial
medallion binding their wrists, their arms would have been around each
other in an embrace that would only have further enhanced the passionate
nature of their kiss.
     Standing in front of the happy couple, Adama allowed himself the
faintest of smiles.  My darling Ila, how pleased you would be to see our
son married to the daughter of your dearest friend, Bethany.  And Cain,
wherever you are right now, I somehow feel the Lords will make it
possible for you to know how even we, two old warriors who once flew
together on the Cerberus, are now bound together by ties of family.
     Apollo and Sheba were still locked in their kiss when Starbuck
summoned the strength to clap first.  An instant later, all of the other
guests in the Great Hall joined in, sending a powerful noise throughout
the cavernous chamber.
     When Apollo and Sheba finally released themselves from each other,
and Adama had removed the ceremonial medallion from their wrists, they
turned around and acknowledged the good wishes of their friends and loved
ones with happy smiles and waves.
     Sheba found her eyes darting to the front, where she saw Boxey, all
decked out in his best tunic, standing next to Muffit with a beaming
smile.  She dropped down to a crouch and motioned the little boy to come
over to her.  When Boxey reached her, he almost stepped on the folds of
her sealing gown, but Sheba managed to pick him up off the ground and
rose up, holding him proudly in her arms.
     "From this day on," she whispered in his ear and then kissed him on
the cheek, "You are my son.  I'll try to be everything to you that your
mother was."
     Boxey threw his arms around her neck, and kissed her back.  He
glanced over at his father, who had a contented grin, and then looked her
in the eye.
     "I'm glad you're my mommy, now," the little boy said.  "I'll always
think of you that way."
     Sheba embraced him again before gently setting him down.  As Boxey
scampered back to his place at the front of the applauding crowd, she
found herself thinking of how so much would be expected of her, not just
as Apollo's wife, but as Boxey's mother now, as well.  She had every
intention of exceeding those expectations and giving them both the same
commitment she still planned on bringing to her duties as a warrior.
     And then, the ceremonial music started again, which signaled that it
was time for Apollo and Sheba to walk out of the Great Hall, which would
formally end the ceremony.  There would be no reception for the guests. 
From Apollo and Sheba's standpoint, there would be plenty of time to hear
more plaudits and congratulations from their friends later on.  
     Their arms locked in each other, they slowly made their way out at a
dignified pace.
     Watching, Bojay became aware that one of the other guests had inched
up alongside him.  He glanced over, and saw to his delight that it was
the one person he had asked Sheba at the very last centon to invite.
     "Lovely ceremony," Gayla said to him, under the echoing sound of the
taped music.  "Seeing something like that is enough to make me think
there's still something to be said for marriage after all."
     Bojay chuckled lightly, "I learned my lesson.  No reason why you
can't either."
     "All of us have lessons to learn sooner or later," she looked around
and noticed that the crowd was starting to break-up, with some milling
about and conversing with one another, and others making their way for
the side exit.  "Are you headed any place in particular?"
     "No," he shook his head, "Are you?"
     "My evening's still free," the agro-tech placed a slight bit of
emphasis in her words.
     "In that case, maybe we could go over to the Agro Ship comissary and
see what some of that harvest brought back from the planet tastes like." 
 
     "Probably all covered in dust from too much cyclone exposure," her
tone was one of light, playful bantering.  "But I'm willing to give it a
try."
     And then, Bojay extended his arm, which Gayla didn't hesitate to
take in response, as they made their way out.


     For Apollo and Sheba, their first day as a married couple would end
in a place that had already come to have special meaning to them.  A
private room aboard the Rising Star where  they had shared their first
serious date with each other.  And then, they had come here again that
night after their horrific experience with the Derelict spaceship, and
after Apollo had proposed to her.  They had made love to each other for
the first time then, and when they'd awoke the next morning, they'd found
themselves full of a wonderful sensation of confidence about their
future, that had been vindicated later that day when they found Boxey
over his earlier feelings of bitterness, and suddenly willing to embrace
Sheba as his new mother-to-be.
     Apollo gave Chief Steward Zeibert a generous tip, and watched the
door close the instant Zeibert stepped out of the room.  And then, he
slowly turned around and looked at Sheba.  She had changed from her
sealing gown back into her uniform for the trip over from the Galactica
to the Rising Star.  Her hands were on her hips, a winsome smile lining
her beautiful face.
     "Well?" she coyly asked.
     Apollo could feel an almost childlike bashfulness filling him.  Even
though he and Sheba had been intimate with each other on multiple
occasions since their engagement, this was different.  Now, for the first
time they were man and wife.  It would be like a totally new experience
for them.
     He finally found a way of breaking the ice.  "You know, you probably
had the right idea."  He said, "You should have worn your uniform and
combat boots to the ceremony."
     Sheba came toward him, "I like to think my final alteration to the
sealing gown made enough of a statement."
     "Yeah," Apollo found himself relaxing as he drew closer to her,
"Your exquisite taste in daring necklines.  Everyone there could tell you
weren't wearing a stay underneath your gown."
     Sheba wrinkled her nose in mock disgust, "I *never* wear a stay
underneath *anything* I wear, as you well know.  You couldn't pay me a
million cubits to wear one of those damn chokers across my chest again."
     "I wouldn't think of making you an offer," Apollo's tone grew
mischievous, "If you'll pardon the pun, I hope you always stay,
stay-free."
     His wife put her arms around him, "I don't think I should pardon you
for the pun.  But...I'll do it just this once."
     "I thank you," Apollo felt more relaxed as he held her, still trying
to take in the thought that they were now married, and that things would
be so...different between them from now on.  "We've got plenty of yahrens
ahead of us for me to improve my wit."
     "Okay," Sheba's voice grew sultrier, "Conversation is now over until
further notice."
     They came together in a passionate embrace and kiss, and for the
both of them there was indeed no further conversation for the next
centar.
     Some time later, after they had made love several times, Apollo
found himself still lying awake in bed, with Sheba, fast asleep, and her
head resting on his chest.  He idly stroked her long brown hair, and
found himself staring straight ahead, as if there was some part of him
that was still trying to comprehend the magnitude of how his life had now
changed.
     Am I feeling overwhelmed by it all, now?  God help me, could that
mean trouble later on?
     As he continued to stare ahead, he was unaware of the emerging
presence alongside his bed.  The unseen, unheard figure in white that
despite those obstacles borne from belonging to another dimension, was
still capable of imparting wisdom to those who needed it.
     In this case, it was the one person who had shared a similar night
with Apollo, under identical circumstances a mere yahren before.
     "I'll be brief, because this night is not one I should be intruding
on," she said.  "You won't be overwhelmed.  Chase that silly thought out
of your mind and *enjoy* yourself.  Enjoy what you've found with Sheba,
and embrace your newfound status as a married man with the same passion
you did with me."
     And then, without saying anything else, her unseen, unheard presence
was gone from the room.
     Over the next five centons, Apollo felt the tensions inside him
slowly dissipate, replaced only with a happy feeling of contentment.  He
felt his eyes grow heavy, as the relaxing feeling of impending sleep
began to take hold.
     I am blest.
     He managed to kiss his sleeping wife on the neck one final time
before he finally drifted off into the peaceful realm himself. 

     
     "Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny...the last Battlestar Galactica,
leads a ragtag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest.  A shining
planet...called Earth."