Battlestar Galactica: "Relics"
Virtual Season 2, Episode 4
by Senmut

From The Adama Journals

     By the Grace of God, and the wisdom of the Lords of Kobol, the Fleet
continues on its journey, along the Epsilon Vector 22 heading given us
nearly a yahren ago by the mysterious beings of the Ship of Lights. It
has been nearly two sectars since we escaped the grip of the mega star,
and scrapped the irreparably damaged freighter, Spica. Since then, we
have put her metal and other parts to good use, found new quarters for
her population, and, most importantly, seen no indications of Cylon
pursuit. I continue to hold on to my hopes that our last encounter with
them was just that. Our last.
     But of course there are some unresolved issues that remain troubling
to me.  The search effort to locate this fugitive named Dravius, who was
found to have one-quarter of the rare treasures stolen several yahrens
ago from Libra's Antiquities Museum, remains at a dead end.  I fear this
is due more to the general inefficiency that seems to perpetually plague
the ranks of Council Security, which holds jurisdiction for all law
enforcement matters off the Galactica.  Were it in my power to do so, I
would have all members of Council Security drafted into the Colonial
Service and integrated into the structure of Colonial Security, which
handles all matters aboard the Galactica and military ships.  But given
the fallout that remains from the release of Baltar two sectars ago,
there is no way I could dare initiate such a policy measure without
giving Sire Antipas another opening to cut me down before the cameras of
the IFB.
     Young Antipas, sadly, has none of the qualities that made his late
father such a valued member of the Council. With hindsight, I now realize
that the elder Antipas' reluctance to talk about his son, in all the
yahrens that I knew him, betokened a great disappointment in his young
namesake.  Had I realized that, I would have tried to find an alternate
candidate when he was chosen to replace Sire Uri.
     Hindsight though, is never a good thing to dwell on, for anything. 
We know that all too well when we can see so many wrong turns and missed
opportunities that put us in this predicament to begin with.  For now,
the important thing is to make sure that no wrong turns are ever made
again, especially with regard to our efforts to find Earth
     On another note, Lt. Sheba has been temporarily removed from active
flight status as of this date. Dr. Salik informs me that she is suffering
from both a serious respiratory illness, perhaps contracted during her
contact with some of the refugees from the Spica, and from an equally
serious bout of insubordination. It seems that her medical records were
never transferred from the Pegasus, and she is well over time for her
yahrenly flight physical, which she has deliberately avoided on three
occasions, despite direct orders.  While I share her antipathy for the
experience, there can be no exceptions where the safety of the Fleet is
concerned. I will not have another disease lay low our Warriors.  In her
place, Athena has requested a return to active flight status, in order to
keep her qualifications current, and I have agreed.  I agree with her
that it's time she find more to do for herself then just Bridge duty, or
primary school teaching.  Reactivation is approved as of this date.

RELICS
     A Battlestar Galactica story
     Virtual Season 2, Episode 4

     Chapter 1

     Lieutenant Boomer shifted in his seat, kicking himself mentally for
not taking a painkiller before launching. His right shoulder, still
bothering him from the last futile attempt at Triad against Starbuck and
Apollo, had gone from twinge to volcano, and he was glad, as he checked
his chrono, that they'd be turning around for home, soon. His flight had
been out on deep probe for almost half a day now, and so far there hadn't
been so much as a smudge of space dust on the scanners. While that was
good in its own way, after all like everyone else in the Fleet he hoped
never to see the Cylons again, it was nonetheless a bit boring. Still, he
reminded himself, looking out his cockpit at his green charges, sometimes
boring can be good.
     It had been almost a sectar and a half since the Fleet had
encountered anything, and the way ahead of them continued to look clear.
As far as their scanners could peer, space was empty. Now, once they got
back, and his shoulder quit feeling like a Cylon mega-pulsar was being
test-fired inside it, he would make Apollo and Starbuck pay for their
latest presumption on the Triad court. Yes, he had a plan, and...
     "Lieutenant Boomer?" came a voice over his speaker.  Young,
uncertain, untried.
     "Yes, Cadet Oswy?" he replied, all pilot once more.
     "I'm picking up something on my scanner, sir. Two degrees to port on
this heading."
     "What is it?" asked Boomer, reaching down to adjust his own scanner.
Oswy was flying point, so his ship would be the first to detect whatever
it might be.
     "Some kind of coherent EM signature, sir. It looks like a
transmission of some sort."
     "I'm picking it up, too, Boomer," said Athena. "The Warbook has
nothing on it, but it's beginning to look like some kind of scan wave."
     "Yeah. Mine says the same thing, Athena." he adjusted the scanner
through a variety of wavelons. "Still too far away to get much. Cadet
Grumio? Anything on your end?"
     "Same as yourself, sir," replied the other cadet. "Some kind of
scan, but it's intermittent. Not very coherent."
     "No, it is not," said Boomer, after a few more moments.  "And I can
tell ya why. It's a gamma frequency."
     "A what, sir?" asked Oswy.
     Ah, to be green, again, thought Boomer.  "Athena, you want to tell
the class?"
     "A gamma frequency is an antiquated part of the spectrum," she
explained, slipping into teacher mode. "It was used extensively by the
early Colonies, when electronic communications were rediscovered, along
with the early types of scanning equipment."
     "What they used to call radar?" asked Grumio.
     "Very good, Cadet," she replied. "Yes, that was the old term. Gamma
frequencies remained in use, even after the discovery of FTL
communications, until shortly after first contact with the Cylons."
     "And do either of you gentlemen know why?" asked Boomer.
     "Uh, no sir," said Grumio, obviously crestfallen even in audio.
     "I see. Cadet Oswy?"
     "Because those frequencies can skip unpredictably, sir. Doubling or
even tripling of the original frequency. Over extreme distances, it can
propagate unpredictably, and is subject to all sorts of interference,
including jamming."
     "Go to the head of the class, Cadet," said Boomer.  "When we get
back, the ambrosia is on me! Very good. Athena, your students shine."
     "As always," she replied, glad her smirk remained invisible.
     "So," continued Oswy, "once better systems became available, all
gamma frequency systems were phased out of military and civilian usages,
except for short-range domestic broadcast."
     "Well..." began Grumio, clearly annoyed at being outshone by his
fellow cadet, when Oswy interrupted once more.
     "I'm picking up a star, sir. Ma'am. Directly on the line of
transmission. Two degrees port of our present course."
     "Boomer," interjected Athena, a note of caution in her voice. "Could
this be another BaseShip, hiding out here? Waiting for us?"
     "Could be, but remember, that signal Apollo picked up was not a
Cylon lure. I'd stake a yahren's pay on it."
     "Earth, then?"
     "Well, we are still moving along the course we were given, Athena.
It could be."
     "That would be wonderful," said Grumio, a bit dreamily. "Earth."
     "You and me both, Cadet," said Athena.
     "But for the moment, we have a mystery to investigate," said Boomer.
"Cadet Oswy, are you picking up that planet in orbit around that sun?
     "Yes, sir. In fact, I'm reading a binary sun, sir. One a yellow
giant, the other a red dwarf, orbiting about a light-secton out."
     "Very good. Cadet, you and I will circle in, around that red dwarf
sun from the other side, and check it out. Athena, you and Cadet Grumio
hold positions on the heliopause, just in case."
     "Right," replied Athena.
     "Sir," said Grumio, clearly disappointed.
     "Cadet, one thing you learn in a Viper cockpit is patience. Patience
can be the most valuable weapon you have. Lasers, scanners, torpedoes.
They are nothing without the wisdom to use them when and only when
needed, and to know just when that is."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Good. You with me, Cadet Oswy?"
     "Cheek to cheek, sir," chirped the young man.
     "Careful, Cadet, I don't know you that well."
     So said, he and Boomer peeled off, and fired their turbos. Athena
and Grumio slowed their Vipers, keeping their scanners focused upon the
solar system ahead. From here, it was merely a slightly larger than
average yellow dot, the red companion invisible to the naked eye. She
watched the data scroll up, and let the computer chew on it. The
heliopause was coming up.
     "Ma'am?" asked Grumio.
     "Yes, Cadet?"
     "What do you think they'll find?"
     "One thing you will learn about being a Warrior, Cadet? You never
know what you will find out here. Now, look at your scanner. See the
heliopause coming up?"
     "Yes, ma'am."
     "Keep your eyes on that reading, and call out when we hit it."
     "Is your scanner malfunction..."
     "This is a training flight, remember?"
     "Yes, ma'am

     Chapter 2
      
     "Omega," called Colonel Tigh, from his station, down into the "pit,"
"What's the status of Patrol One?"
     "Still beyond both scanner and communications range, Colonel."
     "I see. That's Lt. Boomer's training patrol, correct?"
     "It is, Colonel. He and Lt. Athena, and Cadets Oswy and Grumio.
Their first patrols."
     "Their ETA?"
     "They aren't scheduled to be back in communications range for
another...104 centons, sir."
     "Very well. And Starbuck's patrol?"
     "Patrol Two is also out of range, sir. ETA comm range...26 centons,
Colonel."
     "Very well. I'll be in the Ward Room, Omega, if you need me. Carry
on."
     "Sir."
      
      
     Boomer could almost feel the heat from the red dwarf sun, as he and
Oswy swung around it, heading in towards the newly discovered solar
system. This star, orbiting almost a light-secton out from the inner
primary, had but a single, airless rock in orbit around it. He and Oswy
passed close to the planet's surface, but detected neither signs of life,
nor of Cylons. There were tantalizing hints of a more dynamic past below,
but nothing now, save silence and dust. When it had begun to die, the
star had taken its own children with it.
     "Okay, nothing here, Cadet," said Boomer, turning his Viper towards
the yellow sun shining in his canopy.
     "What does your scanner say about the inner star?"
     "I read nine planets, sir," replied Oswy, speech slow as he digested
what his scanners were telling him. "The signal seems to be coming from
the third one out, Lieutenant. Now that we're closer, it reads as
originating from some sort of satellite in orbit, sir, rather than a
ground source."
     "Very good, Cadet. I read the same. Athena? You getting all this?"
     "Loud and clear, Boomer."
     "We're going in. If I let out a yell, one of you heads back to the
Galactica, the other comes after us. Unless I tell you both to go. You
got me, Cadet Grumio?"
     "I do, sir."
     "Great." Boomer looked up from his instruments as they sailed
inwards, catching sight to starboard of a huge, purple and
orange-streaked gas giant. Even at this distance, it filled his entire
right-side canopy. Atmosphere ripped by horrific winds, it was over four
times the size of Caprica, utterly void of life, or any artificial
satellites.
     Natural ones however, moons glinting in the light of the far-off
sun, it had aplenty. Over a dozen, none bigger then a few score hectares
across. According to the scanners, this was planet number seven. From the
plot his computer gave him, only seven, four, and three were presently on
this side of the sun. As the swirling gas giant fell astern, he focused
scans on the source of the intermittent signal.
     "Sir?" asked Oswy.
     "Yes, Cadet?"
     "I was thinking. This system has nine planets. Isn't Earth's solar
system supposed to have nine as well?"
     "That's the information we were given, Cadet. Both by the ancient
records, the Ship of Light beings, and the painting Starbuck found in his
cell on the Proteus Prison asteroid."
     "Well, this system has nine, and we're getting signals from the
third. Maybe..."
     "But Earth has a single sun, Cadet, according to every source of
information we have. A single yellow sun, similar to the suns in the
Colonies. That red dwarf rules this place out."
     "But it's pretty far out, sir. Maybe it doesn't count, in their
reckoning."
     "Who's reckoning, Cadet? The Ship of Lights?"
     "Well, yes. After all, they, well, they aren't like us, sir.
Maybe..."
     "A star is still a star, Cadet." He looked at his scanner, then to
port at the fourth planet. Much smaller, is looked about the size of a
coin from here, and was ruddy against the inky blackness. Scans said it
was about half the size of Caprica, with a thin atmosphere, light
gravity, no open bodies of water, and only microbial and primitive
vegetation discernable at this distance. It, too, quickly fell astern,
and he gave the approaching third world his full attention. 
     It read as just slightly larger than Caprica, closer in size to
Gemon, and sported a thick atmosphere. He set the computer to scan for
any other transmissions that might be coming from it, and relayed all
data back to Athena and Grumio. He kept scanning as the mysterious world
came into view, a tiny blue dot growing slowly larger as the millicentons
ticked by. At this angle, it was a quarter crescent, and shone like a
jewel on a black velvet glove.
     "She's beautiful," said Oswy, pulling up alongside Boomer's ship.
"Like...like home."
     "Yeah. She is," replied Boomer. For a moment, he let himself
fantasize. Fantasize that this was home, that Caprica was there, and he
could just reach out and...
      He shook his head. No good letting emotion for a lost, wrecked
planet rise up and make him all dewy-eyed.
     Mooning can get you killed. Back to business.  
     They crossed into the day lit side, and soon found the source of the
erratic signal. It was, as they had theorized, an old, beaten-up
satellite. It's very old-fashioned solar panels were chewed up with
countless micro-meteorite strikes, it's casing pitted and scarred, the
whole thing slowly tumbling end over end. That anything inside it even
still worked was a semi-miracle. 
     "Some kind of observation satellite, sir," said Oswy. "Originally in
a geo-synchronous orbit. That must be what we picked up from outside the
system, sir. One of its scanners seems to still be on-line."
     "Barely. And we just happened to be in line with it as it tumbled,
Cadet. According to the scanners, this relic is at least a hundred yahren
old. Maybe more. Okay, let's take a look at the planet."
     "Yes, sir." 
     They left the tumbling satellite behind, and moved in closer. The
planet was covered in wide blue oceans, which covered sixty-seven percent
of the surface. Unlike the other worlds, this one sent the bio-scanners
off the scale. The seas, as well as huge regions of land, were
overflowing with life. Forest, jungles, and animal life in a dizzying
variety of forms. They made one full orbit, coming back into sunlight
over a vast prairie rimmed with rivers and lakes, and dotted with huge
stretches of forests.
     "But nothing else, sir," said Oswy. "That satellite is old, sir. But
I don't see any signs of a civilization that could have produced it."
     "Well, it might be alien, Cadet. Put in orbit here by someone who
wanted to look this place over.
     "Maybe...Look."
     "Sir?"
     "Follow me down, Cadet. Switch to Delta Band."
     "Following, sir," said the other, as Boomer headed towards the
surface. As he scanned the new band, he saw it to.
     "Residual radiation," said Boomer. "And not natural, either."
     "A war, sir?"
     "I'd say so," replied Boomer, as they passed over a range of low but
rugged mountains, capped with snow, and came out over a rolling plain.
There, about ten metrons from the foothills, to their left, in the bend
of a wide river roaring down from the mountain range in spring spate, lay
a huge, sprawling city.
     Or what was left of it. Once-tall buildings were shattered hulks,
their tops seemingly sheared off, as if by the sword of some malevolent
god. Stumps of concrete showed where once mighty bridges had spanned the
flood, vegetation ran riot everywhere, and the traces of what had once
been roads snaked away from the dead city, to be lost in the encroaching
plant life. 
     "My God, sir, it looks like the Cylons hit it."
     "But not recently, Cadet. From the daughter elements I'm scanning in
and around the city, this happened a long time ago. Maybe as long as five
hundred yahren."
     "Five...woo. Any signs of survivors, sir?"
     "You tell me, Cadet," said Boomer. "You are supposed to be scanning,
too."
     "Uh, yes sir. I'm picking up a variety of animal forms, sir. Over a
hundred different biosign signatures so far, but nothing that looks
Human."
     "Who says they'd be Human, Cadet?"
     "No one, sir. But the proportions of that satellite were such as it
could have been assembled by Humans, or something Human-sized, in a
facility like our old clean rooms. The buildings I could see looked
similar to architecture I've seen on Virgon, where I'm from, and Aquaria.
So, I'm assuming something at least similar to us."
     "Architecture, Cadet? I had no idea you were such an expert."
     "My father was an architect, sir. My mother was a master tile setter
and mosaic artist. I grew up with it. In fact, I was just starting my
first yahren at University, when the Holocaust happened. I was going to
be an architect."
     "Well, the Cylons bitched it for all of us, Cadet," replied Boomer.
They had left the dead city behind, and soon found more evidence of the
past inhabitants of this world. On a high stretch of prairie, they saw
the remains of an ancient rail-road, the skeletons of the rusted vehicles
still visible amidst the tall grass. They followed the river, past a
long-breached dam, observed a huge herd of herbivorous creatures similar
to an auroch back home, and soon found more cities. Like the last, they
were all devastated, the one built along the coast where the river
emptied into the sea half-buried in sediment.
     They headed south, along this continent's coastline, finding more
empty and decayed settlements. Not all showed signs of being bombed. A
few had been apparently just abandoned, when civilization here had come
to a screeching halt. 
     "Sir, I'm picking up something," said Oswy.
     "What is it?"
     "An infrared signature of some sort. Very weak, sir."
     "Natural?"
     "I can't tell yet, sir. It's still a long way away."
     "Let's check it out."
     "Right with you, sir."
     They flew in silence for a centon or so, till the scanner beeped.
Oswy sat bolt upright in his seat, and rechecked the readings.
     "Fourteen degrees left, sir. It looks like...fire.'
     "I see it. Yeah, a brush fire, Cadet. Totally natural. Well,
I...hey. See that? Human readings."
     "I see them. Humans. A large concentration, at...what the frack?!"
     "Cadet?"
     "Sir, something coming up behind us. It's airborne, and it's large."
Both pilots switched to full rearscan. It wasn't a Viper, but it was at
least as big. As Boomer turned, trying to resolve it on his scanner, a
blast of something hot and powerful hit his Viper. It staggered the ship,
then something zoomed past, a shadow speeding across his canopy. He
looked up, then down, as a warning beeped. What the frack??? His
autocontrol system was down, and his scanner was flashing alerts. Diodes
fried all across the...
     "FRACK!!!!" he swore, as he looked up, and saw something big heading
directly at him. He shouted Oswy's name, but never heard if he got a
reply. Lasers streaked across his path from above, then seemingly were
swallowed up in the huge thing that was bearing down on his ship, vast,
horribly be-toothed mouth agape. He fired blindly, and the thing veered
violently away.
     But not before hitting him, sending a loud crunch reverberating
through his Viper as his canopy cracked.
     Smoke roiled out from his controls, and the ship began to wobble
violently. From the seemingly endless alarms and lights, he could tell
that his left engine was out, he was leaking fuel, his lasers were
off-line, and he couldn't transmit.
     Oh, yeah, And his landing gear were shot, too.
     "Oswy! Oswy, if you can hear me, get back to the Fleet. I can't make
orbit." He felt the shudder as one engine died. "Going down fast." He
struggled with the stick, but the savaged Viper barely responded. Ahead
he could see dense vegetation, and tried to steer towards it. Maybe, if
there were more of those flying creatures...
     His canopy flew off, and he swore into the screaming air. He dared a
quick look behind him. He was trailing thick dark smoke, laced with
sparks, and he could see a glint of light above, presumably off the
canopy of Oswy's Viper. He reached for the eject control, but a blinding
pain ripped through his shoulder; muscles refusing to respond. He
screamed as he forced them to obey him, at last feeling the release
beneath his fingers. He managed to wrap his fingers about it, and tried
to pull. His whole arm blazed in agony, and...
         Oh fraaaaack..................!!

     Chapter 3

     The odor, musty and faintly astringent, burned his nostrils. 
Lieutenant Starbuck stared from one end of the narrow, dirty corridor to
the other, trying to locate the source of the smell.  He noted remnants
of food debris and refuse in many of the alcove corners, near the portals
to the living quarters.  The lieutenant wrinkled his nose.  This was
hardly up to Fleet standards -- despite Adama's orders to speed things
up, after the Spica disaster, despite the fact that even the Colonial
Warriors spent almost as much time on inspection duty as they did on
patrols. 
     Keeping the corridors sanitary, however, was secondary to making
sure that all engine components were in working order.  Such conditions
as these were noted and a "complaint" was sent to the ship's captain, who
then assumed the responsibility for taking care of the problem. 
Follow-up inspections did not happen until sectons, or even sectars,
later.  A matter of priorities when manpower was limited and stretched so
thin when trying to service 220 ship, many of which were just barely
space-worthy.  
     Starbuck shook his head and frowned, wondering if this were really
an improvement for Mairwen and Cassy - or not.  
     After studying the identification codes next to the entrances, he
headed to his right, looking for compartment C37.  The only sound, above
the far-away vibration of the ship's engines, was the hallow echo of his
boots. Upon returning from his uneventful training patrol, Starbuck had
requested, and received, permission to fly directly to the Sagittarius,
rather than the Galactica, letting Jolly shepherd their trainees back to
base;  he knew that  Mairwen and Cassy had been assigned their new
quarters aboard the old freighter over a sectar ago. True, he had been
busy and had not even had any time on furlon - not even to take advantage
of the remainder of his Gold Pass -- since then, but he had made a
promise.  Buddies look out after each other. Cassy had beamed at him when
he had told her that.  And he had meant to follow up on his promise
several sectons ago, but something always seemed to come up, like leading
the trainee flights, each time he finally resolved to go.
     As he noted the identification codes, Starbuck absently tossed from
hand to hand the object he carried.  It was a small gift for Cassy, a
small, handmade, floppy equine, something Boomer had acquired for him
from the newly established Market Section on the Rising Star during an
inspection tour.  He had stashed it in the emergency supply kit on his
Viper so that he'd have it when he finally made it over to see them.
     There.  Compartment C37. Starbuck stopped, hid the gift behind his
back, and took a deep breath before knocking.  Nothing.  He tried again,
knocking more firmly, since the bulkhead doors were solid and nearly
sound proof. Most actual living quarters had door chimes.  Here, the
storage compartments from the old freighter had been modified and adapted
to their new function.  Starbuck knocked one last time, then waited.  He
was about to give up and check elsewhere when the door slid open, old,
poorly lubricated gears grinding loudly, at last.
     "Lieutenant!"  Mairwen's face looked startled, anxious, even tense,
before a broad smile spread across her lips at last.  
     "Thought I'd drop by and see how things were," Starbuck said, noting
her reaction.  
     Visibly relaxing, she ushered him inside.  "Cassy's taking a nap,"
she said as she motioned for him to sit.
     Starbuck gazed around.  The room was maybe a little bit bigger than
their previous quarters aboard the Spica, but not much.  At least, the
compartment had been modified so that the sleeping area was separated
from the rest of the living space.  They even had a small
food-preparation and storage unit, but not much else: two chairs, a
flimsy, folding table, and a clean but well-worn sofa.  A small array of
toys and objects were scattered on the floor in a corner, Starbuck noted
with a smile.  He sat down on the sofa. Its springs groaned in torment,
and he was certain it must predate Imperious Leader, but it held him up.
     "Can I get you something? Something to drink, maybe?"  Mairwen
asked.  She was pacing slightly, and the tenseness had returned.
     "No, I'm fine," Starbuck said, knowing that she probably didn't have
the libation to spare.  He studied her.
     "Why don't you sit down and tell me how you like your new ship?"  
     "Oh, it's fine."  Mairwen pulled one of the chairs around to face
him but did not sit.  "Maybe I should wake Cassy."
     "Nah, let her sleep a bit more," Starbuck said gently.  "And maybe
you can tell me why you're so uptight... do I make you nervous?"  
     Mairwen laughed briefly and sat.  "No, no!  It's not you."
     "So what, then?"  Starbuck felt puzzled, worried.  Something was
obviously troubling her.  
     "Oh, it's nothing.  I'm just not used to the new place, new people.
So tell me how you've been!"  
     Starbuck eyed her.  He knew there was more to it than just that; he
could sense a tenseness that bordered on fear.  But she seemed unwilling
to elaborate.  "Fine," he answered finally.  "Busy.  If I'm not on
patrol, or training the new pilots, then I'm doing inspections, it seems. 
The commander's determined that what happened on the Spica will not
happen again, so he's got us - Warriors and any other available personnel
- handling the routine-type stuff, so that the techs can concentrate on
the nitty gritty details, like tiny valves and gaskets and fuel
injectors."  He paused and looked away.  "I intended to come by sooner,"
he said slowly, "because I meant what I said to Cassy.  How is she?"
     "She's happy, Lieutenant, happier than when we were on the Spica. 
We've even found some other kids about her age, so she finally has some
new friends."  Mairwen, however, still looked less than content.
     "That's great!"  Starbuck grinned, then let it fade.  "So, what's
really bothering you?  What's wrong?"  
     "Nothing.  I'm just tired," Mairwen insisted.  "I still don't sleep
well.  The explosion on the Spica reminded me too much of the Great
Destruction and what we went through to escape from Virgon that day.
I'm... having nightmares," she said.
     An inner feeling, though, told Starbuck that there was more to it
than just bad dreams and sleepless nights.  She had been reluctant to
open her door.  No, not reluctant. She had been frightened. But he
decided to let it drop, for now.  After all, he didn't really know her,
not well enough, at least, to pry too much into her personal affairs.
     Still, that wouldn't prevent him from checking up on things, as much
as he could, from the Galactica.  "That's too bad," he said at length. 
"Look," he said, watching her reaction, "if there is anything - anything
at all - that I can do, just ask.  Please."  He gave her a steady look. 
"I did, after all, tell  Cassy -"
     "Starbuck!"  A whirlwind of energy burst through the door from the
sleeping section and flew into his lap.  Blue eyes gazed raptly at him
and the small face beamed.  "You've come!"
     Starbuck hugged the girl, then grinned at her.  "Of course! I
promised." She nearly knocked him over, as she wrapped her tiny arms
around his neck.  "Hi, buddy!  How ya doing?"
     "Great!  Great!  I get to go to a playgroup, now, and I've got three
friends but one is my best friend, and me and her always play together. 
And we always play with the toy animals because  we're both gonna be
vet'narians when we grow up." Cassy barely paused for a breath before
continuing for another five centons. 
     Starbuck listened, nodded, and even asked questions when he could
get a word in edgewise.  Finally, she seemed to run out of steam and sat
curled on his lap, her four-yahren-old face alight with a peaceful smile.
     "I brought you something," Starbuck said quietly.  He pulled the
gift out from where he had hidden it when he had sat down - behind his
back on the sofa.  
     "Oh, wow!"  Cassy studied the equine, then hugged it to her chest. 
"Thanks!"
     "So what's its name?" Starbuck asked.
     "It's not an 'it,'" she informed him, authoritatively, hands on
hips.  "It's a 'she,' and her name is..." She paused to think, then said,
"Brownie!"  She wiggled off Starbuck's lap.  "And Brownie needs to meet
her new buddies. 
     'Scuse me!"  With that, she plopped down in her corner, lost in
play, already.
     Starbuck smiled at Mairwen, who was watching her, too.  "She's
precious, you know," he said softly. "And I want to do what I can for
her."
     "But you really don't have to do anything else," Mairwen said. 
"You've got too much of your own to worry about, I'm sure - all those
things that you warriors have done, that you do, to protect that Fleet. 
You are looking out after her."
     "Look, if you're that determined to get rid of me..."
     He was joking, but Mairwen's face went dark.  "I'm not trying to
'get rid' of you, but I don't want you to feel obligated, either.  We're
fine."  Her tone had become clipped, angry.
     "Hey, I was only kidding," he said, raising his hands.  "I don't
feel 'obligated.'  I want to keep in touch.  As a friend.  For her sake." 
He let his eyes settle on Cassy as she played, trying to ease the sudden
tension.  "She's been my inspiration since I met you and her."
     "What do you mean?"  The anger in her voice was gone.  
     "I mean..." Starbuck glanced at Mairwen, then gazed back at Cassy. 
"I mean, she's so radiant and happy, despite all that she's been through. 
She lives in the moment, the here and now, and seems to take things in
stride so easily.  No matter what they say, adults just can't seem to do
that... not like her..."  He nodded at Cassy as his voice trailed off.
     When he looked back at her, Mairwen was studying him.  "I get the
feeling that you mean you, when you say that."
     Starbuck shifted around on the sofa.  "I, well..."  He fixed his
gaze on Cassy once more and changed the subject.  "So you found a play
group and friends for her.  That's great!  Do they get together often?"
     "Not as much as I wish they could."
     "Oh?"  The tension was back, and Starbuck decided that he just
couldn't let it pass.  "Is there a problem... something here that's
bothering you?  It just seems to me that it's  more than just sleepless
nights that's bothering you."
     "I... it's probably nothing."
     "It's not 'nothing' if it's got you this worried."  Starbuck locked
his eyes with hers.  "So please tell me," he said softly.
     Mairwen studied her fingers.  "Okay," she said at length, quietly. 
"Everything's been nice here.  The people are friendly.  They've made
Cassy and me feel accepted, especially now that she has some friends,
finally, but..."
     "But what?"  he prompted gently.
     "But... there's group here, a religious sect, I think, and they make
me nervous."
     "How so?  Are they bothering you and Cassy?"
     "Not exactly, no... but they show up in the commissary sometimes,
and they try to preach to everyone.  And sometimes they do go compartment
to compartment, trying to talk to people."
     "So you thought that I might be one of them when I knocked on your
door?"  Part of the picture was becoming clearer.  
     "Yes.  They can be persistent, sometimes."
     "Do you think they're dangerous?"  Starbuck asked in barely a
whisper, not wanting to disturb Cassy.
     "No, just annoying -"
     "Then why've you seemed so stressed every since I got here?"  He was
too worried to be subtle anymore.  She was not telling him everything, he
could tell.
     "Because they're spreading nonsense, but people are starting to
believe them!"  Mairwen whispered fiercely, finally opening up.  "They
say that the commander is not telling us how bad things really are in the
Fleet and that we're running out of fuel and that we should insist that
we find a place to settle - any planet, not just Earth, before we're dead
in space or before the food stocks run out and we all starve!"
     Starbuck stood up and paced to the door, then back.  "That's crazy!" 
he whispered.  "The commander has done everything in his power to protect
the Fleet and provide for everyone."
     "I know that.  Most people know that, but..."
     "But what?"  Starbuck stared at Mairwen, his eyes flashing with
frustration.
     "But the longer this exodus lasts," she said slowly, quietly, "the
easier it is for people to believe what these zealots say."
     "Just who are they, anyway?"  Starbuck sat down in the other chair,
glancing at Cassy to be sure that she was still lost in play and not
listening.  
     "They call themselves the 'Il Fadim.'  From what I've been told,
that's Sagittarian for 'the Chosen Ones.'"
     "Frak,"  Starbuck whispered, more to himself.  "Look, I -"  His
transceiver beeped, cutting him off.  He plucked it off his belt and
pressed the button.  "Starbuck here."
     "Report to the Galactica bridge immediately."  It was Apollo, and
even through the static of the device, Starbuck could sense the tension
in his voice.  
     He sighed and stood.  "Sagans...Uh, I have to go, but I'll check out
what I can about this group.  Maybe security can keep an eye on them. 'Il
Fadim' you said it was called?"
     She nodded.  "Thank you," Mairwen whispered, looking a bit more relaxed, finally.
     Starbuck took a few extra centons to say goodbye to Cassy, giving
her a goodbye hug, before hurrying out the door and back to his Viper. 
He stood still for a moment, alone in the corridor, and looked back at
the door.
     What a wonderful child. For a moment, he thought of the road not
traveled. What if he had not said no, right before the Holocaust? What if
he and Aurora... He shook his head, dismissing such pointless thoughts,
and headed at a run for the landing bay.  What, he wondered, had happened
now?

      Chapter 4

     As the murky fog of unconsciousness began ever so slowly to lift
from his mind, Boomer was aware of...of...what was he aware of? He didn't
know. The world was a blur, a very dark blur, and he could neither see
nor hear anything meaningful. He tried to move, but couldn't tell if he
had succeeded or not. He tried again, and felt...
     Pain! Like a jolt of electricity, something painful knifed up his
leg, and he heard a deep intake of breath. Or was it a groan? It was the
latter, and with a sudden burst of awareness, Boomer realized that it was
his own voice he was hearing. Slowly, sensation was returning, and he
could feel his head moving. With a supreme effort, he opened his eyes.
The universe was a vast blur, and he squinted, trying to make sense of
his surroundings. It was dim, and something lay across his body. There
was also something warm close by, and as he sniffed the air, he could
smell smoke.
     Lords of Kobol! My Viper! It's burning... 
     With a supreme concentration of effort, he forced himself to move,
and tried to raise himself up. His head swam like he'd had wayyyyy too
much ambrosia, and he woofed his mushies. Twice. Nose wrinkling at the
smell of bile, his head at last cleared enough to make sense of where he
was.
     He was lying on his left side, propped up on one arm now, barely an
arm's length from a small campfire. That was the source of both the heat
and the smoke he'd smelled. Gingerly, he pushed himself up until he was,
at last sitting , gritted his teeth against another shot of pain, both in
his leg and right shoulder, and looked about. It was still daylight, but
he was under a thick canopy of trees, their branches filtering the
sunlight to an ambient green.
     The fire was small, but there was some extra fuel piled next to it.
His helmet lay next to him, and his uniform...
     His uniform jacket was torn, one clasp missing, as well as soiled.
Across his legs lay a coverlet made of some sort of animal skin, thick
with rough fur. As he took more stock of himself, he was forced to
concentrate on his pain. His left leg, as well as his head, was wrapped
in some sort of crude bandage, consisting mostly of some kind of leaves,
bound with vine or sinew of some sort. His pant leg had been torn away,
though he still wore his boots. Raising his fingers to his face, he felt
dry, crusty blood in his eyebrows. With a sudden rush of anxiety, he
checked. Yes, he still wore his gunbelt, and his pistol was still in its
holster. Who or whatever had tended him, had not removed it. He
cautiously straightened up, and looked around some more. Wherever he was,
his Viper, or what was left of it, was nowhere to be seen.
     There was, however, a large cave, not a stones-throw from his
position, as well as a couple of crude huts or sheds. Obviously, someone
had rescued him from his crash, but who? And where were they? He could
see no one about, and was about to call, when he heard a noise. Or rather
two. One, the whoosh of something airborne, was familiar. Totally
unfamiliar was the other, which seemed to come from above the trees. He'd
never heard anything like it before, but it nonetheless made him flinch
in fear. Like the scream of overstressed metal, or venting high-pressure
steam, it was somehow terrifying. He fumbled for the scanner on his belt.
     Only it wasn't there. It lay next to him, a crumpled mess. His
communicator, likewise, was dented and bashed around, seemingly beyond
repair. He tried it, but got only a brief burst of hiss. By the time he
tossed it down, the weird cries had faded. The forest was silent once
more.
     But not for long.
      
     "A what??!" demanded Athena, after Cadet Oswy had given her his
initial report. "Is your breather gear clogged, Cadet?"
     "No, ma'am," replied Oswy, a bit tightly, glad Athena couldn't see
what he was doing with his right middle finger just now. "A large flying
creature, like a giant winged lizard, attacked his Viper. It was
breathing fire, and it rammed his ship."
     "How big was this thing?" asked Grumio.
     "Bigger than a Viper. It seemed to exhale fire, and hit the
Lieutenant's ship with a blast of it." Oswy transmitted his scanner data
to both Vipers. "Then it slammed into his Viper, like one hovermobile
trying to run another off the road. The Lieutenant's ship began to smoke
and trail sparks and debris. I fired at the thing, when it came around
again, and the Lieutenant did too, and the thing fell towards the
ground."
     "Dead?" asked Athena.
     "I would assume so, ma'am. I hit one of it's wings, and blew it
clean off. Then, the Lieutenant caught it directly in the mouth. I don't
see how anything could have survived that."
     "Did you see him land?" Athena asked.
     "I hung around as long as I dared, ma'am. He ordered me to return to
you, but I stayed long enough to see his Viper diving towards a thickly
wooded area. He had two engines out, and no canopy."
     "And then?"
     "I saw two more of the flying creatures approaching, ma'am. I didn't
want to risk it, and the Lieutenant ordered me to return. So, here I am."
They were still sitting on the edge of the system's heliopause, the star
just a dot at this range, the planet invisible. Athena debated for a
moment. A pilot was down, and needed rescue. Yet, she needed to return to
the Galactica, with her charges. Given their position, and half empty
fuel tanks, the Fleet would be in range of the Vipers for only two and a
half more days. Given what Oswy had seen, rescuing Boomer might not be as simple as heading back to the planet, picking him up, and heading home.
On top of that, none of their Vipers was a two-seater version. Mong on a
branch! 
     "Ma'am?" asked Grumio. "What should we do?"
     "Grumio? You head back to the Fleet. Balls to the wall, you hear
me?"
     "Yes, Lieutenant."
     "Once you are in com range, transmit everything you have to the
Galactica. Tell my...the Commander to slow the Fleet. Slowing the Fleet
will give us time for a shuttle rescue."
     "Yes, ma'am. Anything else?" 
     "No. Now get going, Cadet!"
     "On my way, ma'am. You two be careful." So said, Grumio powered up
his ship, and moved away from the others. Once clear, he pointed his nose
towards the Fleet, kicked in his turbos, and was gone.
     "Alright, Cadet. Let's go and find him."
     "What if he's...I mean..."
     "Cadet, I don't want to hear that! Understand me?" Her voice had an
ominous growl.
     "Yes, ma'am."
     "Good. Now follow me!" said Athena, and fired her engines.
      
      
     Boomer turned, as he heard the sounds of something approaching. he
reached for his pistol, and drew it as best his injured shoulder
permitted. As he tried to decide his next move, he could make out the
sound of voices.
     Humans! A few moments later, someone came into view through the
trees, followed by several other people. The leader was not tall, but
wide, with a powerful chest and arms, like a bodybuilder or wrestler, and
flaming red hair and beard. Behind him were others, two carrying a long
pole, to which was tied some sort of dead animal.
     Hunters! Each of the returning band carried a spear, and were clad
in crudely fitting clothes made of animal hides.
     My God! How primitive, he said to himself. He took a breath to
speak, but heard something thud onto the ground behind him. He turned,
and saw another of the forest-dwellers, a youth, armed with a club. The
young one just looked at him, his expression needing no words. 
     Don't even think about it.
     Slowly, Boomer pulled back from the laser, and the youth seemed to
relax a bit. He relieved Boomer of the weapon, then looked up from the
injured man, and called out to the returning band. It was no language
Boomer recognized. It was heavy, somewhat sonorous, and seemed heavy on
the consonants, but he could pick out little, for the boy went very fast.
The band of hunters had by now reached the mouth of the cave, and from
its interior, several women were emerging, the youth joining them. Boomer
wondered why he had been left outside on the ground, but didn't have time
to ponder this very deeply, for the leader of the group, the red-haired
muscular hunter, was moving towards him. Boomer tried to rise to his
feet, but the pain in his leg prevented him from doing so. He looked
about for a crutch of some sort, and grabbed up a long piece of branch
from next to the fire. He lifted himself up, just as the other drew even
with him.
     "I have no idea what you just said," replied Boomer, as the other
spoke. He looked around, but could not see his Languatron. It must still
be in his Viper, wherever that was. If he could get to it, and it was
still mostly intact, maybe he could liberate the first-aid kit. "Uh...my
name is Boomer," he said, tapping his chest. "Boo-mer." He watched the
other. The hunter, or chief, or whatever he was, regarded the Viper pilot
with intelligent, penetrating green eyes, from under a heavy, pronounced
brow ridge, not unlike a Nomen's. Boomer would have said that he was
about 40 or so yahren old, but that, of course, might not mean anything
here.
     "Boo-murr," said the other, getting his tongue around the unfamiliar
syllables. He smiled ever so slightly, showing enormous teeth, and poked
his own chest with his right thumb. "Utu Hegal," said the man with a
certain note of pride in his voice. "Utu Hegal."
     "Uh...Ootoo he gall," Boomer tried repeating, and his effort seemed
to please the other. Utu Hegal nodded, and repeated himself, saying "Utu
Hegal," and adding "lugal kur ngishgi."
     Yeah, thought Boomer. Of course. "Lieutenant Boomer, from the
Battlestar Galactica," he reciprocated. As before, the other made nothing
of it. By signs, Boomer showed his thirst, and he was helped over to the
cave.
     Already, women, as crudely clad as the men, were hard at work
butchering the kill, and he was brought a small wooden bowl, filled with
cold water. It was as the sweetest ambrosia, and he gulped it greedily.
He motioned for another, but an older man, his hair receding and grey,
shook his head. With words far too fast to follow, even had he understood
the language, he seemed to instruct the others in something, and motioned
for Boomer to approach. Once close, he looked at the crude bandaging, and
made some comments.
     Must be the doctor, or medicine man, he thought, as the leaves were
replaced, and a new, pungent unguent was applied. Got to get to my med
kit. He looked around, and saw only forest. 
     Wherever it is.
      
     Chapter 5

     Starbuck paced the wardroom, unable to make himself settle down.
He'd gotten up, gone to the beverage dispenser, downed a java, hit the
head, checked the status board, and then done it all again before Apollo
finally had to order him to sit down.
     "I just..."
     "Starbuck, you're acting like a new father or something," said
Apollo, trying to keep it light, though in reality it was beginning to
get on his nerves. "The way you're going, you'll wear a hole in the deck
before long."
     "I know. I just..."
     "Lieutenant," said Tigh, with just the right amount of authority in
his voice, "we won't know any more, until Cadet Grumio lands, and makes
his report. Until then, either sit down..."
     "But..."
     "... or I'm sure Doctor Salik can find something suitably hideous to
inject you with." The Colonel spared Apollo the tiniest twinkle of the
eye, but had only the classic "Tigh stare" for the Lieutenant. After
letting out a sigh loud enough to be heard across the bridge, Starbuck
sat down. Almost at once, there was a call from the bridge. He half rose,
and Apollo put out a hand to restrain him. 
     "Colonel Tigh?" It was Rigel. "Single patrol craft now entering
scanner range, sir. ETA to Fleet perimeter six centons."
     "Excellent. Have the pilot report to the wardroom as soon as he
lands, and get me Commander Adama."
     "Right away, sir."
     "Now maybe we'll learn something more solid," said Starbuck, tossing
back his third java.
     "Let's hope so, Lieutenant," said Tigh. "Oh, and Starbuck?"
     "Yes, Colonel?"
     "Stop chewing on your cup."
  

     "Lords of Kobol, we're never going to find him in this!" said Oswy,
as they flew over the planet's surface. The distant brush fire he and
Boomer had detected earlier had spread like, well, wildfire, and engulfed
a vast area. The sun hung low on the horizon, the blood red ball the
mackerel sky incarnadine. Enormous herds of bison-like animals were
stampeding away from the flames, but so far, they saw no sign of the
flying dragons.
     Or of Boomer. 
     "I'm not picking up either the transponder or locator beacon,
ma'am," said Oswy. "Both frequencies are dead air."
     "Same here, Cadet. I'm switching to bioscan. You sweep for metals."
     "Aye, ma'am," replied the cadet, and did so. They swept back and
forth across the plain, in a standard search pattern, keeping high enough
to avoid the leaping flames. With one eye on the ground, Athena kept the
other peeled for signs of the dragons. After several centons, she began
to feel fear take hold. Real fear. Not for herself or Oswy, but for
Boomer. If this creature had so damaged his ship, that he hadn't...
     "Lieutenant?" cried Oswy, breaking her train of thought. 
     "Yes, Cadet?"
     "Refined metal concentration, range12.7 metrons, 0.96 to port."
     "Analysis?"
     "Aluminum, tylenium, cupricium, and some tylium traces as well. It's
a Viper, ma'am. Coming up on it now." 
     They slowed, and circled the spot indicated on their scanners. It
was now nearly dark, the target visible only on their infrared system.
The ground around it was still smoldering, the fire having ripped through
the area some while ago. Athena dropped her gear, followed by Oswy. Her
turbines were still whining down when she leapt from the cockpit, and ran
to the wreckage.
     Or what was left of it. The ship had caught on a low rise of rock,
not a thousand paces from the edge of a thick forest. The smoking metal
skeleton of the fighter was still hot in places, filling her nostrils
with an acrid reek. One engine lay across the rock from her, a melted
pile of scrap, the other two at least a metron away, thrown by either the
impact or the explosion. She stopped, taking a deep gulp of air, despite
the smoke. 
     What if he's...maybe he didn't manage to...those dragon things. What
if...
     Shut the frack up, you idiot! she told herself. You won't...
     "Ma'am?" asked Oswy, next to her. She started, unaware she'd spoken
aloud.
     "Uh...I said this was some crack-up, Cadet." She peered inside the
wreckage, but the darkness made it difficult to see anything. Her lantern
showed only more charred wreckage. Her hand scanner however, showed
minimal radiation. Most of Boomer's fuel had gone up, or been dumped
before impact.
     "I think he made it, ma'am," said Oswy, scanning the wreckage as
well. "The cockpit is missing. He must have ejected."
     "Yeah," she said, her gut jumping up and down. "I see that. And
aside from the vegetation, I'm not reading any organic remains."
     "No, ma'am. No bones or tissue at all. He definitely got out before
she crashed, Lieutenant."
     "Thank the Lords," she breathed, her emotions as surprising as they
were strong. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, and fighting
back...tears? "BOOMER!!!!" she cried, her voice echoing across the almost
totally dark prairie. She moved around to the side of the wreckage facing
the forest. "BOOMER!!!??" She scanned as she called, but neither her
ears, nor her machine, got any responses. As she continued to scan, she
noticed that is wasn't so dark as before. She turned around, and saw, on
the opposite horizon, a huge glowing moon rising up out of the darkness. 
     She had to stare at it for a moment or two. Not since leaving home,
for the so-called "Armstice Signing" that had turned into the horrible
ambush at Cimtar, had she seen a rising moon. She had stood, with Zac,
hot-blooded and eager for his first cruise as a newly minted Warrior, on
the cliff behind their home, watching the larger of Caprica's two moons,
Niobe, rise up out of the sea. She shook her head, not wanting to feel
that rush of pain again. Zac, their mother, Caprica, Niobe, and all of
that were gone. Behind her by countless light-yahren. No good...
     "What?" she said, as Oswy once more intruded on her thoughts. This
is no good, girl! She told herself. Woolgathering like that. A whole
fracking Cylon garrison could have snuck up on you, with your head up
your...
     "I said, ma'am, that there's no sign of the cockpit assembly within
my hand-scanner's range. Lieutenant Boomer's cockpit definitely ejected,
rather than was blown clear."
     "Good." She kicked over the wreckage some more, at last finding the
locator beacon unit. Like the rest of the ship, it was melted scrap. She
tossed it onto the still-cooling junk pile. "Okay, let's get back into
our Vipers, and scan for him. If he ejected, he had to have come down,
somewhere."
     "I'm not picking up the cockpit locator beacon either, ma'am."
     "Neither am I, and that worries me." She sniffed, her eyes stinging.
Come on! You...
     They both started, at a sound. It was like the screech of ripping
metal, or a soul in torment. Athena couldn't decide, and didn't want to.
It sent a chill of primal terror down her spine, and she turned, casting
her eyes out into to darkness, pistol at the ready.
     "What the frack was that, ma'am?" asked Oswy, though he already had
a good idea. Athena didn't need to answer him. Up above them, something
crossed the swollen disk of the moon. Something vast, and winged, and
black. Once more, there was the hideous shriek, keening across the
prairie. 

    Chapter 6

     Starbuck shook his head and stared, not believing his eyes, as he
watched the flight recorder scans from Grumio's Viper. Boomer had been
taken down by a...well, a dragon! Like some nightmare from ancient lore,
or fairy tales meant to frighten disobedient children, he'd fallen to
some prehistoric beast.
     "I followed him as far as the forest perimeter, sir," said Grumio to
Adama. "He ordered me away, and to report to Lieutenant Athena. Then, I
lost all telemetry from his Viper."
     "And you are sure you killed this...thing?" asked Adama, looking at
a freeze frame of the creature, belching fire from its maw. He looked
back at the young cadet, still standing ramrod straight.
     "We must have, sir. I shot one of its wings off, and Lieutenant
Boomer managed to get it right in the open mouth before he went down. It
was blown to pieces, Commander."
     "Thank God for that," said Adama. He turned from Grumio to the image
on the monitor of the terrifying beast. "Unfortunately, that won't be the
only one of those things on the planet."
     "Agreed, sir."
     "At ease, Cadet."
     "Sir."
     "And sit!"
     "Yes, sir."
     "Have there been any messages from the rest of the patrol,
Commander?" asked Starbuck, fingers tapping nervously.
     "Nothing. We're still out of comm range."
     "And will be for nearly fifty centars," added Tigh.
     "Sirs," said Grumio, clearly flustered at being debriefed by the
Commander himself, "Lieutenant Athena said to request that the Fleet be
slowed, in order to remain within range long enough for a shuttle
rescue."
     "Sir, do we dare?" asked Tigh. "Lieutenant Giles' patrol picked up
faint signals from the edge of his range. The computer says the nearest
analogue could be Cylon."
     "Well we can't just leave Boomer behind," said Starbuck, a bit
louder than he had intended. "We've got to go after him! Uh, sir."
     "I understand, Lieutenant,' said Adama. "But until we're certain
we're clear behind, slowing the Fleet is too great a risk."
     "How long did you say until that system comes into comm range,
Colonel?" asked Apollo.
     "Just under fifty centars, Captain. And due to the angle of our
course, we'll be within range for barely nine."
     "We can do it, sir," said Starbuck, half rising, body whip-tense.
"Drop tanks on the shuttle, we can head in at top speed. Find Boomer, and
scream back to rendezvous with the Fleet before you're out of range."
     "And if you run into some other unknown trouble on the planet?"
asked Tigh. "Even at maximum speed, " and here he put a plot up on the
main board, "you've got a narrow window for making it back, Lieutenant."
     "Well what about Athena, and the other cadet, uh..."
     "Oswy, sir," supplied Grumio.
     "Oswy. We can't leave them, behind."
     "Nor will we. Once we're in comm range, we'll signal them to
return."
     "If she hears us," said Apollo, tightly, chewing his lower lip.
Though he was outwardly calm, Adama could see the stress his son was
feeling. The anxiety. The fear, for his sister. Only he could hear the
stress in his son's voice, at the very idea of never seeing his sister
again. "You heard Grumio. Before he was out of scanner range, Athena and
Oswy began heading in towards the planet." He stopped, taking a deep
breath. "If they're on the ground, or on the side facing away when we
signal..."
     Adama frowned, not liking the choices before him any better than
Apollo did. If he slowed the Fleet, he increased the chances of rescue.
Yet, doing so increased the danger to the Fleet, if it was indeed true
that whatever Giles had detected meant that after two sectars, the Cylons
had at last picked up their scent again.  And if that were true, that
carried other ramifications he didn't want to think about at that micron.
And, Athena. It was enough to make Adama feel sick inside. Sick at the
thought of losing Athena after already going through the tragedies of Zac
and Ila that he'd never completely put behind him.
     But, as Commander...
     As a father...
     "Very well," he said, clearly not liking the feel of being in a box.
"Prepare a shuttle. Extra tanks, and whatever rescue gear you might need.
And a med tech, in case Boomer's injured."
     "Thank-you, Commander," said Starbuck, unable to hide his relief.
Apollo, despite it being his sister out there, kept his mask in place.
     "Apollo?"
     "Yes, Commander?"
     "I want you to take Cadet Grumio with you." He looked over at the
cadet. "You'll go with them. You will be more familiar with the terrain.
Apollo?"
     "Yes?"
     "I also want a long-range marker beacon in the shuttle, too. With
the rescue window so narrow, I want you to have every edge."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Dismissed," said the Commander, and with that, the meeting was
done. Out in the corridor, Apollo caught up with his buddy. 
     "Hold on, will ya?" asked Apollo. "Wait till you're in your Viper
before you go to lightspeed, alright?"
     "I just don't want to waste time, Apollo. Boomer could be hurt, or
dying. He..."
     "Worrying won't help, Starbuck." He took another deep breath, and
run his hand down his face. "Look, I'm as worried about Boomer as you
are, Buddy. We're all friends, here, as well as Warriors. But you jumping
around like a shorting Cylon isn't going to help."  He realized that he'd
spoken more harshly than he had meant to. "No, go to LifeSation, and have
Dr. Salik give you something to clear that javienne out of your system,
and then requisition whatever we'll need."
     "Right, Apollo. And Apollo?" The Captain turned back to regard him,
eyebrow raised in questioning. "She'll be okay, Apollo. She'll be okay."
Before Apollo could even draw breath to reply, Starbuck was gone.
     "What the Hades..." muttered Apollo, wondering what had put the
thorns under Starbuck's seat cushion all of a sudden. The brash young
Warrior was always the eager one, but he couldn't remember ever seeing
him quite like this. He knew of Starbuck's former romance with his
sister, the breakup of which he'd never mentioned, and Starbuck never
spoke of. Was the other man feeling the embers stirring for Athena, once
more? Was that why he was ready to climb the bulkheads? He shook his
head, and headed for the shuttle hangar deck.
 
     Chapter 7

     "Cassie, I am being totally straight with you," exclaimed Starbuck,
as the socialator-cum-medtech looked at him, arms crossed. Obviously,
Cassie wasn't buying his story.
     "Uh huh. Just like taking off for the Celestra was a disinterested
pursuit of Viper maintenance," she replied. Had she been a judicator,
Starbuck would have expected a sentence of death any micron.
     "Hey, that's not fair. You know what was going on over there.
Chaka."
     "Uh huh. And Aurora."
     "Aurora and I are history, Cassie. Period."
     "And Athena?" Cassie nailed him with her glinting eyes. "The first
patrol mission she's gone on since before Gamoray, and you're taking off
after her."
     "This is a rescue mission, Cassie," he shot back, his voice getting
brittle.
     "And Apollo is perfectly capable of rescuing his sister." She held
up a hand. "AND the fact that Bojay, Brie, Giles, and Cree are all ahead
of you on the duty roster this cycle, what with the fact that Sheba is
still on suspended flight status."
     "How did..."
     "I'm a med tech, remember?" she asked, voice slipping into the
condescending. "I do four or five flight physicals a secton. I know who
is where."
     "Cassie, please. Listen. I am not going because of Athena. What she
and I had was...special, yes. But it's over. Behind us." She looked back
at him like he was some pathetic puppy, with a dripping bone in its
mouth, that kept insisting it hadn't been anywhere near the kitchen. "As
far behind us as Proteus."
     "You still see her, Starbuck."
     "We're Warriors, Cassie. Sometimes, briefings overlap, or we get
posted to inspection details.  And she and Apollo are together a lot, or
with the Commander."
     "Starbuck..." she sighed, shaking her head.
     "Cassiopeia," he said, and her face changed. So casual had their
relationship become, that he rarely called her anything but "Cassie"
anymore. Even when in the throes of passion, it was almost never anything
but her shortened name. Why was he...
     "Starbuck?"
     "It's Boomer. He's the one I'm going after."
     "What?" she raised an eyebrow, as if uncertain she'd heard
correctly. "Boomer? I know you two are old friends, but, well, you're
so...anxious. I..."
     "Cassie, I've never told anyone this story. Not for yahrens.
Please." He bade her sit, and they did so. He looked about her sparse
quarters, just down the corridor from Life Center, and sighed before
beginning. "It was when I was a new cadet. New? Hades Hole, I was as
green as a sapling. I met this somber, straight-laced kid at the Academy,
and we hit it off. He was a whiz at electronics, and I liked Pyramid. He
even tolerated my fumerellos. We meshed."
     "Boomer?"
     "Yeah. When the time came for our first deep space cadet cruise, we
were both posted to the Atlantia. A few days out, we were getting ready
to launch after a briefing, and we climbed into our Vipers. The
two-seater training version. I was to launch first, another guy second,
and Boomer third. The order came, and we hit it." Starbuck fell silent a
few moments, and Cassie wondered why. Was any of this for real, and
Starbuck was truly remembering? Or was this just another incredibly
charm-filled Starbuck fast one?
     "All I remember after that was the world turning on its side, then
nothing. A steam line on the catapult in my launch tube had ruptured, and
slammed my Viper up and into the wall of the tube."
     "Oh my God," she said, fleetingly recalling what Athena had done
with the steam line in a certain launch tube, once upon a time.
     "My ship was rammed in there tight as anything, my upper engine and
fin buried in the wall. The cockpit was jammed shut, and the ship's
emergency fuel dump vent was open, and was leaking fuel. The steam blast
had damaged some electrical systems, and a bus was overloading,
threatening to explode. If it had, with all that fuel, it would have
taken out part of the launch bay."
     "What happened?"
     "When he saw what had happened, Boomer jumped out of his Viper, and
came in after me. He disobeyed a direct order from our Squadron Leader to
leave the bay, and came down the launch tube after me. They were going to
write us off, and seal off the bay, spacing it to avoid an explosion.
Despite all that, he reached my ship, and somehow managed to pry the
canopy off, and pull me out, before the atmospheric force field at the
end of the tube failed. He pulled me out, Cassie, right before it all hit
the fan."
     "The other pilot? The instructor?"
     "He didn't make it," said Starbuck, shaking his head. "Crushed to
death. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Atlantia's
Life Station, and it was almost a secton later. I almost didn't make it,
with the trauma, and the inhaled fuel. If it hadn't been for Boomer,
Cassie, well, you see."
     "Why haven't I ever heard this story before? Apollo and the others
talk about you and your legendary exploits all the time."
     "Apollo doesn't know. No one on the Galactica does. Except Boomer.
We made a...deal, with the Atlantia's Commander. Riordan. The
investigation showed overlooked and sloppy maintenance. Lots of it, too.
If it had come out, with this accident capping it off, he would have been
finished. But, it turned out that the maintenance chief had been slacking
and filing false maintenance and requisition reports for yahren.
Acknowledging receipt of equipment and supplies, selling some of them off
or purchasing only second-rate junk, and pocketing the difference."
     "Why wasn't he punished?"
     "He came from an influential family. Very influential, as in his
father was a senior aid to a member of the Council. Bad news all around.
So, in return for an early retirement for 'medical reasons', the
maintenance chief would forget all about a certain indiscretion between
Commander Riordan and a certain politician's wife. Boomer and I agreed to
it. We had to, who would believe a couple of insubordinate cadets over
the word of the great and powerful, and the truth of the whole incident
was covered up and forgotten." He sighed. "Anyway, after that, Commander
Riordan couldn't do enough for us. If Boomer hadn't managed to slam that
dump valve closed, well..." He shook his head, and looked back to her. He
looked deeply into her eyes, and sought belief. 
     "Starbuck..."
     "Cassie, I..." It was obvious she was still dubious. He stopped, and
moved to a bookshelf. Selecting an old, slim volume, he returned, and
placed it on her thigh. His hand upon it, he placed hers atop his own.
Cassie's eyes widened in surprise. It was The Book of the Word, her
people's most sacred and revered text. From everything she knew, Starbuck
was about as pious and reverent in such matters as a sex fiend in a
girl's school. She had only, in recent centars, begun to re-examine the
faith of her girlhood, and had reached no decisions. But, for him to even
consider...
     "St..."
     "Cassie, upon the...upon the holy book of our ancestors, I swear to
you that everything I have told you here is the truth. Totally. There is
nothing any longer between Athena and myself, and you are the only woman
in my life. Period." He was sweating like a cadet before his first exam,
and she saw truth in his face. 
     Besides, for Starbuck to fall back upon the Book...
     "Very well, Starbuck." She squeezed his hand. "I accept. Now, let's
get those supplies ready." She rose.
     "Cassie, I..."
     "Enough," she replied, putting a fingertip to his lips. "Let's get
going." She saw his face telegraph "lets"? "You need a medtech." And so
said, she left the room. 
 
     Chapter 8

     Boomer watched with a certain morbid fascination as the women in the
cave butchered the hunter's prize, something resembling an antelon, and
prepared it for eating.  It made him recall the times he'd enjoyed meat
in the Officer's Mess and how Greenbean, who had an aversion to meat,
would try to dissuade him or Starbuck with a lecture on how the Livestock
Ship cutters prepared animals for food. Each time, he had brushed off the
blonde ensign's objections. Now, for the first time he had a chance to
see that Greenbean's descriptions had been accurate. But here, in such
primitive conditions, far removed from what the workers on the Livestock
Ship did, he could see what a bloody, smelly procedure it was. It felt
almost like a revelation.
     "Huh?" he said, as one of the hunters, a stocky, brown-haired
fellow, tried to get his attention. The man had tapped him on one
shoulder, interrupting his reverie. He then handed Boomer a hunk of
dripping, bloody meat, with a hunk of bone still in it. Boomer decided to
forego his usual witticisms, and copy the actions of his hosts. The meat
was skewered onto a stick or other implement, and held over the fire. He
picked up one of the crude tools, and followed suit. After a centon or
two, he had to admit it was beginning to smell rather good.  
     "Boo-Murr,"  said one of the hunters, the leader. Boomer looked up,
and was once more struck by the intelligence that gleamed in the other's
eyes. For a moment, he reflected on what sort of person this man might
have been, had he been born in the Colonies, rather than this Stone-Age
backwater.
     "Yes. Ah...Utu-Hegal?" While the women had worked to butcher the
animal, he had fallen into trying to establish some common ground
linguistically with his hosts. The leader, Utu-Hegal, seemed the most
adept at picking up his words. So far, he had managed to convey his name
and rudimentary words like, yes, no, food, hungry, black, fly, fire,
warrior.  It was slow going, to be sure, but the red-haired barbarian
seemed pleased to continue.
     "Boo-Murr fly," he said, making pretty heavy weather of Colonial
Standard. "How Boo-Murr fly?" Boomer tried to explain the concept of a
flying machine, and found to his surprise that the concept didn't seem
beyond these people. Then, upon reflection, he remembered that once, they
had lived in cities, linked by rail, and watched over by satellites.
Doubtless their legends and myths contained references to aircraft of
some sort. He struggled to convey his encounter with the dragon that had
taken him down, but was frustrated by his lack of vocabulary. He was
about to give up, after resorting to hand gestures, when the old medicine
man spoke up.
     "Ushum!" he said, at last divining what Boomer was trying to convey. 
"Ushum." As if on cue, everyone moaned or grunted in recognition of the
word. Getting an idea, Boomer took a piece of charcoal from near the
fire, and sketched a very bad rendition of one of the flying creatures on
a flat stone. Widened eyes, and murmurs of ascent rewarded his efforts. 
     "Ushum, dragon," Boomer went on, pointing again to his crude sketch. 
He seemed to be succeeding, so he drew another picture, this time of his
Viper. Heads shook, and frowns told him he wasn't getting anywhere. On an
inspiration, he tried to draw a fair representation of the cockpit
section of his ship. One of the primitives looked at it, then nodded. He
spoke, too fast for Boomer to follow, and pointed towards the dark
forest. It took a while, but at last he figured out that he had been
found, in the forest, in the ejected cockpit section of his ship, and
been brought here.
     "Good thing I didn't fall in with a bunch of cannibals," he
muttered, and went on. With more pictures, he at last made them
understand that he came from the an-shar-a. Roughly rendered, "the whole
of heaven". It seemed that an, or "sky," had many uses, and he soon
became lost in all the various applications. An-ki. An-sig-a. An-nisig-a. 
He was really wishing for his languatron, but in the end, they understood
that he had ridden into their part of the world on a An-ta-sur-a, or a
"stone from heaven". He chuckled, wondering what the designers of the
Viper would think, having their creation likened to a rock. With nods and
many more hand gestures, he soon was sure that they understood him, then
he decided it was time to eat. 
     One of the women, a young, doe-eyed girl of the sort Starbuck would
have been on in a centon, handed him a small wooden bowl, filled with
what looked like ground-up leaves, mixed with a thick liquid. He sniffed
it. It smelled good. He dipped his food in it, as they did, and decided
it was about the best condiment he'd had in yahren. The meat reminded him
of venison, but with a sharp tang. It was good whatever it was, and he
realized how damn hungry he had become. 
     Too bad I can't bring these people back to the Fleet, he thought
wryly.  They'd probably make better Mess Hall chefs than any of the
current ones. He nodded, thanking the girl, and allowed himself a moment
or two to give her a real look-over. She wasn't tall, none of her people
were, but she reminded him of Sheba with flowing red hair, and a bosom
that would do justice to a supermodel, beneath several necklaces of teeth
and colored stones. The rest of her curves, on open display given her
skimpy attire, were the sort no one could improve on. He spared a quick
look at Utu-Hegal. Yeah. The same nose. Same emerald-green eyes. His
daughter for sure. Best not look too much, and tick off papa.
     Seeing his reaction, the girl handed him another bowl, which she had
filled from a skin bottle.  His eyes widened to the size of cubits, as he
tasted the alien drink. It was alcoholic, that much was certain. But it
wasn't the sour, clotty muck one might have expected, but had the
stinging bite of the most expensive grog. He could just imagine Starbuck
wondering how to make money out of this stuff. It burned the throat a bit
on the way down, but the incredible flavor more than made up for this. 
All in all, it was a most enjoyable meal, topped off by some sort of
fruit, eaten raw.
     "What the..." he began, as he focused on the small berry. It was
red, vaguely heart-shaped, and had its seeds on the outside, like a
strawberry. It tasted like one, too. As the near-forgotten flavor hit
home, he wondered how in Hades a plant, native to the Colonies, could be
growing here, on a planet so far from home?
     The meal finished, everyone cleaned up and seemed to be preparing to
sleep.  Without warning, Boomer once more heard the terrible cry from
above the canopy of the forest. His hosts cringed, and he heard the word
ushum muttered many times. A few of the men grabbed their spears, but
after a while relaxed. Apparently, the danger had passed for now. 
Utu-Hegal set down his spear, and led Boomer to an unoccupied spot in the
cave, and indicated it was his assigned sleeping place. As he surveyed
it, he caught site of something glinting further back. He moved closer,
Utu-Hegal watching him, then following. In the back, leaned up against
the wall of the cave, was a piece of...glass? He touched it. No, it
wasn't glass. Unless he was very wrong, in was transparent tylenium, like
the windows and celestial dome on the Galactica. Some piece of
technology, left over from the destroyed civilization, he decided. He
looked around, still curious, and found another relic. Sticking out of
the cave wall was a pipe. A corroded metallic tube, half covered in the
roots that grew down into the cave from above.
     A pipe? In a cave? Boomer couldn't help but be curious, but he was
also very tired, and decided that the mysteries of this planet could
wait. Returning to his sleeping place, he was aware of two things, as
sleep closed slowly in. The gaze of the doe-eyed girl, on him.
     And those of the young man who had taken his laser away.

     Chapter 9

     "Status?" asked Apollo, at the controls of the shuttle.
     "We've just lost the Fleet on our scanners," replied Starbuck. "On
course for the planet. ETA...19.6 centars."
     "Good," replied the other, and nudged their speed up a bit.
     Lords, he's taking it cool, thought Starbuck. Well Boomer, he
thought further, last time, it was you coming back for me on Atilla.  Now
it's my turn to return the favor. He then couldn't help but smile as he
realized he should have made sure there was a clean uniform packed for
his friend.
     He looked back, and saw Cassie, dozing on one of the seats. He
sighed, and settled in for the long trip.
 
 
     Adama could not sleep. Try as he might, he would drop off, then
dream of his dead wife, trying to tell him something, then wake once more
to the darkness The thought of Athena, lost forever on some primitive
world, filled him with a parent's worst dread. I couldn't save Zac, then
I lost Ila. Now...
     "No," he said to the darkness of his cabin. "Stop it!" He tossed some
more, then gave up, and went to his office. He activated his desk
monitor, and checked the mission status. The shuttle would be out of the
Galactica's scanner range in just under ten centons. After that...
     "Bridge," he called.
     "Bridge," came the reply. Some fresh voice from the night watch he
barely recognized. "Petty Officer Wu, sir."
     "What's our Viper patrol status, Petty Officer?"
     "Captain Bojay's patrol will be landing in 12 centons, sir.
"Lieutenant Barton's in 15 centons, and Lieutenant Croad's in 12."
     "I see. Once they are aboard, plot a new course, Petty Officer."
     "Sir?"
     "You heard me. Once all patrols are aboard, plot a new course,
following that of Captain Apollo's shuttle. And reduce speed by four
points. Inform all ship masters at once."
     "Yes, sir, Commander. Anything else, sir?"
     "No. Thank you, Petty Officer." Adama shut off the link, and leaned
back. He hated himself for not rushing to Athena's aid. He also hated
himself for the very thought of putting a father's concern first. Try as
he might to think of himself as a "modern" man, Adama was deep down
inside very old fashioned. He had never liked the idea of women in combat
situations. True, their situation in being vastly outnumbered by their
Cylon enemies made it important to have numbers, but something buried
deep in his ancestral DNA just had never gotten used to it. And, when it
was his own daughter...
     There had been no more potential Cylon traces since Giles' patrol.
If it was just some unknown alien race, with no interest in them, all
well and good. If not, well, the Cylons would almost certainly be their
usual predictable selves, and continue to probe along the course the
Fleet had been sailing for near to a yahren now. A little detour might
just help throw them off. At least for a while. 
     He rubbed his eyes, then looked at the pictures on his desk. Zac.
Athena. Their mother. Are you telling me something, Beloved? he wondered.
Guiding me? Lords, I need you more than ever, Ila. More than ever.

     Chapter 10

     Athena awoke, for the third or fourth time, and stared out her
canopy into the dark forest. The first moon had risen high, bathing the
land in an eerie radiance, followed a centar or so later by a second. The
two-toned shadows made an eerie landscape downright spooky, reminding
Athena of the kind of nightmares she'd once had as a child about being
lost in places such as these. As night fell, she and Oswy had moved their
Vipers closer to the edge of the forest, and covered them with a
camouflage tarp. A stone's throw to her right, Oswy was sleeping in his
Viper, waiting till the morning to resume the search.
     Her dreams had been unsettling. Once again, Athena had been back in
the Rejuvenation Center, aboard the Galactica, when fire had raged out of
control just outside the bulkhead door. Smoke had surrounded her, and
Boomer had stood in front of her, swathed in flames, until lasers ripped
through the murk, and she was standing again upon the surface of Kobol,
endless hoards of Cylon fighters blotting out the sky, blasting the
ground in an endless wave of blistering light. She snapped awake, swore
as to compare favorably with Commander Cain, and when rest would not come
again, she decided it was better to get back to work.  Athena
straightened her jacket, and then activated her ship's scanners,
wondering if she should wake Oswy and have them double their efforts. She
then decided that it was better to let the green cadet, who had to be far
more nervous inside then she was, get some extra sleep. Fleetingly, she
wondering if Oswy was having trouble sleeping too.
     The forest ahead read as one big blob of living matter, till she
fine-tuned the Hades out of the emitters. She could pick out various
types of life forms. Trees, birds, nocturnal mammals, fish, and, once,
signs of Human readings. This didn't surprise her, since they had picked
up a few traces during their earlier passes, but she couldn't help but
wonder if it was Boomer she was detecting. Much to her relief, she saw no
further sign of the fearsome flying reptiles. She kept on scanning,
changing wavelons again and again, till she at last got a return. Metal.
She tried to run a spectro on it, but there was too much scatter. Either
the forest was interfering in some way, or something else was scattering
her sensor pulses. She focused, refined, and fine-tuned till her eyes
blurred, but her systems were too limited at this angle.
     Still, she plotted the metal trace on a crude map, and would
coordinate scans with Oswy in the morning for a precise fix, then make
for it when the sun returned. They'd find Boomer, and then they'd...
     He's okay, girl. He's an experienced, battle-hardened pilot. Not
some...teary-eyed wannabe like you. You can't even close your eyes, and
you don't...
     He saved your life, you know. In Rejuvenation Center. All of your
lives. He...
     You swore to yourself, Athena. Never again. After Starbuck drifted
away...
     Drifted away because of you, woman. You were why he left, Athena.
You flip-flopped back and forth like a Cylon eye with him. First you
couldn't get enough of him, then you pushed him away, in the locker room
after the Holocaust, then you wanted him again. Can you blame him? When
he took up with Cas...
     Stop it! The past can only drag you back with it! You and Boomer...
     Boomer. O Lords, I hope he's alive. Don't let him be dead...
     Don't....
     And lost in her own musings, Athena drifted off once more, her head
dropping onto her chest, oblivious to all. Herself, her ship, Oswy...
     And the vast, dark-winged thing soaring silently above, looking down
upon the edge of the forest.

     "On course, Commander," came the voice from the Bridge. "All ships
in position behind us."
     "Thank-you," replied Adama, and clicked off. He studied the plotted
course downloaded to his desktop monitor. The Fleet's new course would
take it directly towards the solar system where Boomer had been lost.
Once they reached the heliopause, the Galactica and her charges would
"dive under" the system as it were, always keeping the same distance from
the star, till they at last cleared the heliopause on the other side,
then arc back, resuming their original course. This put them within easy
range of the shuttle for an extended time, and might, he hoped, throw off
any pursuit that might be lingering behind, at least for a while. 
     He looked up at his chrono. No point in trying to go back to bed, he
decided. He was scheduled to go on duty in one centar, four centons. Just
time enough to bathe, shave, and grab his usual spartan breakfast before
logging on. As he put his plate back in its place in his tiny
kitchenette, his chime rang. He sagged.
     Sire Antipas to see him.
     Good thing it was a light breakfast.

     Boomer had been in the midst of a disturbing dream of his own, when
he was awakened by noise all around him. The people in the cave were
moving. He raised himself up on one elbow, and by the glow of damped and
dying fires, saw a blur of motion. Utu-Hegal, one of the other hunters,
named Meskalamdug, and the old medicine man, whose name, he recalled, was
Annipadda, had grabbed up spears. Several of the women were on the move
also, a daggit was barking, and a baby was crying.
     "What's going on?" he asked, as someone moved close by, but the
reply was lost on him. He got to his feet, and moved to the mouth of the
cave. Somewhere, far away, he could hear what sounded like a scream.
Human? Animal? He couldn't be certain. "My laser," he called out, seeking
the youth who had disarmed him. "Where...where the frack..."
     He whirled, as a scream rent the air, the scream of someone dying.

     Yes, a light breakfast, Adama thought grimly as he finished
fastening his dark robe and answered the door. Antipas was dressed in his
full Council robes, his appearance totally immaculate and dashing.
     "Good morning, Adama," the Libran Councilor said in that customary
smooth tone. "I trust all is well?"
     Adama tensed himself, but showed no outward emotion, "Is there a
reason you come down to my quarters to ask that, Sire Antipas?"
     The Councilor shrugged and began to pace away from him, "Perhaps.
Perhaps not."  He turned around and smirked, "You have reason to think
I'm not capable of making a friendly social call to my esteemed colleague
on the Council of Twelve, and our heroic savior?"
     Adama felt his inner disgust with Antipas rising. For all the
clashes he'd had with Council members in the past like Uri, Geller and
Domra, there was something about the younger Antipas that screamed out
total insincerity and dishonesty. The others were men he felt at worst
were merely misguided. Antipas was clearly of a different breed. What
flummery was this?
     "Let's get to the matter at hand," he finally said, "I am due on the
bridge in twelve centons. What brings you here?"
     Antipas drew closer to him. "Adama," he said, "Last night, I had a
chance to speak with an old friend of my father's, Professor Herodotus of
the University ship. He was once curator of the Libran Antiquities
Museum. Needless to say, I was quite surprised to discover that two
sectars ago, rare treasures from that museum, representing some of the
finest examples of my Colony's early history, were recovered by Colonial
Security from the Spica, yet I was not notified of that detail."
     Adama frowned at him, "Why should that concern you, Sire Antipas?"
     "Oh come now, Adama. That should be obvious.  I am the senior most
survivor of Libra's civil government, and representative of her people on
the Council. I think that entitles me to see to it that those treasures
are returned to the proper authority for final dispensation."
     "Meaning I should have contacted you and turned them over to you,
Sire Antipas?" Adama said dubiously.
     "I didn't say that," the Councilor raised a finger and admonished,
"I merely note that given my position as a Libran, I was entitled to know
and have some say in these artifacts' ultimate disposition."
     "In due time," Adama said, finding this conversation a complete
waste of time. "For now, those treasures are evidence in an ongoing
investigation, and will be evidence in the tribunal that will take place
when the thief, Dravius, is finally apprehended. Until then, they will
remain in Colonial Security's possession here aboard the Galactica."
     "Adama, I must protest!" Antipas said testily, rising slightly on
the balls of his feet. "You can not deny the people of my Colony the
chance to reclaim at last what is rightfully theirs...."
     "What exactly would you do with them, Sire Antipas?" the Commander
interrupted, "Do you have accommodations aboard a Libran ship in the
Fleet that could properly display them so that the people could be able
to see them once again?"
     "That will come eventually," squirmed the aubdolous Councilman. "But
for now----"
     "Then what is the rush, Sire Antipas?" Adama shook his head, "My
decision is final. If you want to see them turned over to Libran
authority sooner rather than later, it might help if there was some way
you could help in apprehending this fugitive Dravius, or finding any of
his confederates from the theft, who are bound to have the rest of the
treasure in their possession."
     "That does not come under my responsibility, Adama," a haughty tone
entered Antipas' voice as he drew himself up, "Since I have already seen
in the past from the Baltar matter how intransigent you can be, there is
no point in our conversation continuing. Good day. Commander."
     The Councilor disappeared from the room, leaving Adama alone and
shaking his head in bewilderment as to why Antipas would have come all
the way over here on such a trivial matter.

     Chapter 11

     "Where the frack is my laser?" Boomer asked someone, but they
couldn't understand him. Outside in the darkness, he could see lights
moving, flickering amid the trees of the forest. They didn't seem to be
artificial; he judged them to be torches. He got to his feet, the pain in
his leg thankfully almost gone, and started tearing through the various
sleeping areas. Each family had its own hearth area, as did those of the
single men. He tried to remember which one belonged to the suspicious
one, the one who had taken his weapon. How the Hades did you say it? 
     "Ah...UDUG!!!" he shouted, at last grabbing one of the children by
the shoulder. "Udug??? Weapon?" In answer, the boy shook his spear, and
headed out to join the older men. Cursing skeptically, Boomer turned
back...
     And saw her, the doe-eyed girl who had exchanged glances with him
over food. She took his hand, and pulled him towards a sleeping area.
Under the animal skin cover, she fished out his pistol. "Udug," she said,
pressing it into his hands. He thanked her -- at least, he hoped that's
what it meant; although from her expression he might just as easily have
said something unkind about her grandmother. He checked the weapon.
Fortunately, the young fellow hadn't messed with it. He activated it,
checked the settings, and ran out...
     Just in time to have a spear sail past him with millimetrons to
spare. He hit the ground, rolled, and came around, missing the second
spear that now twanged in the soil where he had been a moment before. He
fired, into the dark...
     And was rewarded by a scream, and the thud of a body at his side. It
was a man, but he could see scant details in the dark, beside the
still-burning clothes where his beam had struck, directly in the chest.
Scurrying away, he took cover behind a rock, and tried to make sense of
what the Hades was going on.
     The cave-dwellers were being attacked, that much was certain.
Another group of people, these riding some kind of running beasts, had
ambushed them in the middle of the night, showing, Boomer decided, about
as much honor as the Cylons. Already, he saw two of Utu-Hegal's people on
the ground, spears or some similar weapons skewering them. He felt rage
fill him. These peaceful people, who had reached out to help a total
stranger...
     He turned at a scream, and saw the girl who'd helped him, her hair
streaming out behind her, being chased by a mounted raider. The beast was
lumbering but fast, running on two legs, with two smaller clawed limbs in
front. The rider swung a sword over his head, bringing it down on the
girl. She tumbled into the ground, in a splash of red.
     Her attacker followed, a micron later. Screaming an obscenity that
would have made Starbuck blush, he fired, directly into the attacker. He
shrieked, dropping the bloody weapon, then his arm, as a second shot sent
it flying. Before the marauder could do aught but scream some more, a
third shot blew the top of his head off, and he slumped, his ride
dragging him in the dust. Boomer killed it as well, then turned to find
another target. In short order, he dispatched two more attackers, then
ducked to avoid a spear. He came back up, and ran, ignoring the pain,
towards a tree near the stream. Sure enough, the raider turned to pursue,
then pulled up short as Boomer turned, and shot him right out of the
saddle. With a scream, the attacker fell back, his mount crushing him
underneath. 
     For a moment, the whole swirling cyclone of carnage stopped. Riders
and victims stared at this new wonder, the only sounds those of daggits,
babies, and the moans of the wounded. In a move of extreme stupidity, one
of the raiders raised his spear, then fell screaming as a laser shot blew
his arm open, sending blood and bone everywhere. The others, seeing which
way the wind was now blowing, turned to flee. Several didn't make it,
shot out of their saddles by Boomer.
     "Everyone okay?" he asked, ridiculously in his own language. As he
turned, he caught a hint of movement, and...
     A blur rushed past him, as two bodies thrashed together. Quicker
than it took to figure it out, the young hunter got up, his hands
drenched in blood, and struck downwards, again and again. There was a
scream, then only sick chopping sounds. The young one got up off the
corpse of the other attacker, still holding the fallen sword he'd grabbed
somewhere. 
     Didn't even see that one! thought Boomer. He looked from the gory
corpse to the suspicious one, and thanked him. He couldn't remember the
words, so he just bowed, wrists together, as he'd seen the others do. The
victorious youth understood him, and nodded. He looked from Boomer, to
the dripping blade he still held, and skewered the dead one with it,
walking away.
     "Boo-Mer!" someone said, and the pilot turned. He heard his name
again, and then it seemed as if everyone was chanting it, like an
religious incantation. Someone pointed to his weapon, and the chant rose
higher. "Boo-Mer! Boo-Mer! Boo-Mer!"

     "Starbuck," said a voice, and the Lieutenant popped awake. 
     "Yeah?"
     "Look at the scanner." Apollo tapped the screen, and Starbuck leaned
over to look.
     "I don't get it."
     "Neither do I."  
     "What is it, sir?" asked Grumio, moving up front. Behind, Cassie was
still sleeping.
     "The Galactica, Cadet. She's changed course. Following us into this
system."
     "Commander Adama didn't say anything about a change of course, sir."
     "I know. And we can't call and ask. We're under radio silence."
     "Cylons?"
     Neither older Warrior answered, and Grumio looked back to the
scanner. As he did so, the shuttle lurched, and a horrid clang
reverberated through her hull.

     The attackers had fled, leaving at least a dozen of their dead
behind. Boomer looked them over, examining them and their mounts. They
had worn leather jerkins, some with a few crude metal plates fixed to
them, as armor. Against the primitive spears of the cave-dwellers, they
were almost as good as a force-field. Unfortunately for them, some of
their victims had been excellent shots, and had skewered them in the
unprotected neck area. Some had carried swords, and he picked one up. It
was remarkably well-forged, given the conditions here, and of iron.
Another one, astonishingly, was bronze.
     The animals were another surprise. They were some sort of reptilian
creatures, with long, evil-looking beaks, and scaly skin. Their feet were
taloned and webbed, somewhat like a bird's, and they gave off a horrid
stench. One was still twitching, not quite dead yet, and Boomer finished
it off.
     The cave-dwellers had fared poorly. Two of them were dead, one an
old woman, the other the shaman/witch-doctor/healer, Annipadda. Suddenly,
with a jolt that felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach, he remembered
the girl who had helped him. He searched, desperately.  "Where, where is
she?" he demanded but met only blank stares in return.  "Frakkin'
language!"
     He found her, by following the weeping. Next to one of the dead
attackers, an older woman knelt, cradling the younger one. Standing over
them was Utu-Hegal, spear in hand, wounded, spattered in blood. Boomer
also knelt to get a closer look, and his gut churned.
     The sword had missed her neck, the attacker's apparent target, but
cut an ugly swath across her upper back. Though not deep, the wound was
long and bloody. He felt for her heart. It was weak, but she wasn't out
yet. Hades Hole!  If only he had his med-kit... Still, he felt a wave of
hope.  The wound was not fatal!
     When one has to, one improvises. He recalled something one of his
instructors had showed them, in Academy survival class. "Come on, let's
get her to the water!" he cried, and when he indicated the stream, they
seemed to understand. Once at the stream side, he ripped open her dress,
and bathed her wound in big handfuls of cold water. The rest followed
suit, and he rinsed out a piece of her clothes, to wipe down the ugly
gash. then, taking a deep breath, he reset his laser to a low setting,
and fired.
     Cries of astonishment went up from the people around him, and the
young hunter said something that was surely understandable in any
language, but Boomer filtered it all out. He drew the low-power beam
across the girl's back, sealing her wound. Without a medscanner, he had
no idea how much damage the blade had done, or whether any bone or organ
was seriously hurt. He was sure glad she was unconscious. Of course, a
few good shots of their native booze, and she could have slept through
the Holocaust!
     Done! Her wound was, if a bit crudely, sealed. He checked his laser,
reset it to kill, and holstered it. As he stood, and the adrenaline began
to ebb, he realized just how tired he still was. But, he still had a
patient. He helped Utu-Hegal carry the girl back to the cave, and set her
near the fire for warmth. As he turned, he saw the hunter/king bowing
before him, as if in worship.
     "Za dingir!" he exclaimed, face almost what one might call enrapt.
"Za dingir!"
     "Felcercarb!"  Boomer muttered in disgust.

     Chapter 12

     "What is it?" asked Cassie, headset in place, now up front in the
shuttle.
     "Space junk," said Starbuck, over the phones. He and Apollo had
suited up, and were doing an EVA of the shuttle. 
     "How bad, sir?" asked Grumio, next to Cassie.
     "Could have been a lot worse," said Apollo, selecting a tool from
the utility belt on his suit. "It hit just forward of the right engine.
It cut the cable trunk to some relays, as well as damaging the tank. A
few milimetrons the other way, and we might not be here to discuss it."
Apollo trailed off, muttering unkind opinions of engineers who put
critical systems in exposed places.
     "How's our fuel?" asked Starbuck.
     "Starboard tank is down to nearly zero, sir," replied Grumio. "Lucky
she didn't explode."
     "Like I said," replied Apollo. "Must be that Starbuck luck,
spreading its aura over us."
     "Told you I belonged on this mission," snickered Starbuck. "Success
follows me everywhere."
     "Apollo, did they have a class in humility at the Academy?" asked
Cassie. "Maybe one a certain person might have missed?"
     "Hey!" cried Starbuck, but he was drowned out by Apollo's laughter.
Grumio's, too. Even newbies like him had heard the tall tales of the
blonde Warrior's ego.
     After the initial clang and rumble of impact, red lights had gone
off all across the board. Apollo had shut the engines down fast, and run
the checks. The hull wasn't pierced, but the extra right tank was venting
badly. Starbuck had pumped what fuel he could into the other tank, but it
was of little help; repairs would have to be preformed on the outside of
the shuttle, if they had any hope of continuing the mission.  Once
outside, with tethers fixed and gravboots firmly planted, they found the
culprit. A piece of space junk, specifically a piece of metal slightly
larger than the shuttle's main hatch, had collided with them, piercing
the tank, and damaging the linkage to the engine.
     "This is a piece of wreckage!" said Apollo, all serious again, as
the object was at last pulled clear. It was milled, had tiny rivets along
one side, and had once been painted a brilliant white. 
     "From a ship?" asked Cassie.
     "Yes," replied the Captain. "Part of a wing, maybe. Hard to tell."
     "How long till we're able to get moving again?"
     "In about...there," said Starbuck. "Try the left auxiliary thruster,
Cassie. It's those blue buttons, to the right of the co-pilot's monitor."
     "Uh...."
     "Here, ma'am," said Grumio, pointing them out.
     "Got 'em."
     "Okay, press the second one from the left. Once."
     "Pressing." She felt the button click under her finger, and the
shuttle vibrated. "Okay, she's lit up."
     "And the thruster's firing. We're moving again."
     "Kinda slow," remarked Cassie, looking at the velocity guage.
     "But at least we aren't just sitting, waiting for more junk to hit
us, ma'am," said Grumio. "Besides, every centon counts, if Lieutenant
Boomer..."
     "Yeah. I know," she nodded. Apollo called in, and she pressed the
next button. The right auxiliary thruster now fired, and soon they were
all blazing away happily. A few moments later, Apollo and Starbuck
returned inside, and ran the checks.
     "Velocity now at point oh one four," said Starbuck. "Increasing."
     "Port engine reads green," said Apollo, and slowly fired her up. The
shuttle shot ahead, and he gently microned the starboard thruster up a
notch at a time.
     "Now at sixty-seven percent, and rising," said Starbuck.
"Starboard's a bit rocky, Apollo."
     "Yeah. She's only going to give us about...seventy-six percent. I
don't dare push her higher."
     "Well, at least we're moving again," said Cassie. "What about our
fuel, Apollo?"
     "We've enough to make it. Barely, but we'll make it."
     "At least we saved some," ventured Grumio. 
     "Yeah, but it's put our ETA at the planet back, almost a half day,"
said Apollo. "Not good."
     "Apollo," said Starbuck. "He's alright! I know it. I know he is!" He
spoke almost like a preacher, pressing home his point with fervor. "He's
gonna make it!"
     "I know," said Apollo, settling back in his seat. "I know."
     I hope.

     "Cadet?" asked Athena, legs cramped and spine screaming from her
night-long vigil in her ship. The sun was just moments from popping over
the horizon, and she was anxious to get going.
     "Here, ma'am," said Oswy. From the sound of his voice, he having as
much fun with his back as she was.
     "Prepare a full scan of the forest ahead, to the unit's widest arc.
I'll do the same. We'll try and prepare a stereoscopic map of what's
ahead."
     "Yes, ma'am." She could hear the click of switches and controls in
his cockpit over the radio. Within a centon or so, they were both
scanning, just as the sun returned. "Yes, I see it," Oswy came back, a
few centons later. "It's definitely the cockpit section of the
Lieutenant's Viper. And I'm picking up Human readings, too. Way way off
into the forest."
     "Yeah," said Athena, rotating the contour map they'd generated.
Ahead was nearly a kilometron of thick forest, with the crumbly land
slowly rising. At a rather high point, was the metallic contact, with the
land beyond gently falling off, towards an area with upthrust rocky
outcrops, and seemingly endless caves, along with numerous Human
readings. There was also a massive infrared signature.
     "A fire, ma'am. It looks like a big one."
     "Oh great. A forest fire."
     "No, it's too localized, ma'am. See the Human contacts around it?
I'd say more like a bonfire of some sort. There's no sign of stampeding
animals, or the flames spreading. A forest fire would be spreading in a
more or less random pattern, depending on the winds. And right now, the
wind is nearly zero."
     "How do you know so much about it, Cadet?" she asked. 
     "My uncle was Chief Forestry Officer for the Virgon Park Service,
ma'am. I used to spend summers with him as a teenager."
     "I see," said Athena, wondering if her own upbringing hadn't been a
bit...well, limited in scope. All she knew was Vipers, Battlestars, and
things military. Maybe, if she'd had wider interests, like normal kids
had...
     She'd be dead, like about 10 billion other Colonists. Shaking her
head, she downloaded the map from her scanner to her datapad, and shut
down her ship. Leaving only the short-range transponder functioning, she
popped her canopy, and climbed down onto the grass, wet with morning dew.
Oswy followed suit, and they checked their survival supplies. Once ready,
they set off into the forest.


     Boomer watched as the last of the dead attackers was tossed onto the
raging bonfire, the flames soon consuming the bodies. It had been his
idea. He didn't know how these people dealt with dead enemies, but it
didn't take a genius to figure out that pretty soon, the smell of all
that ripening meat was going to attract every predator and scavenger in
the forest. And from what he'd seen of the local wildlife, he wasn't all
that crazy about them heading this way.
     They had stripped the dead before immolating them, the savage way
some of them had died turning his gut. He reflected, as he examined their
clothes and weapons, that while he had spent a lifetime practicing a
violent profession, he'd never slaughtered fellow Humans before. Cylons,
Ovions, a few others, but never his own race. And Humans they were, he
was certain. While he was still a babe in the woods as far as the spoken
language was concerned, the written was another matter.
     On one of the swords, a surprisingly well-made bronze blade, he had
found writing. Incised onto the blade were a series of symbols, symbols
eerily similar to some that he remembered from some holoscans he'd
studied once. Scans from a place he'd not been able to visit, because
he'd been flat on his back in the Life Station at the time recovering
from an illness that had nearly killed most of the Viper pilots, but
which he'd been interested in seeing the data on afterwards. Scans from
Kobol, the mother world, taken as the Commander and some of the others
had trudged through the ruins of a once-vast city.  While never a scholar
himself, Boomer had a certain reverence for the past, and remembered a
few similar pictures from one of his childhood school books. Later, when
they were under way again, and when he'd found that a fair amount of scan
data had escaped destruction from the Cylon attack, he'd decided to study
them more closely.
     The Commander had called Eden the largest city on Kobol, before the
Exodus to the Colonies. "It was the first to fall," he'd said. If Boomer
recalled what the data banks had to say, Eden meant something like plain,
or steppeland. He had heard that word, or something like it, from
Utu-Hegal a while ago. As nearly as he could figure it, the attackers
were from a tribe they called the Iginim, who lived in, or on, the
Edinnu. The plains beyond the forest. As he tossed it around in his mind,
he was more and more convinced that Eden, and Edinnu were connected
somehow. A flat, vast plain or prairie. It couldn't be a coincidence, no
way, as if the evidence of the fruit was not enough.
     Nor was it a coincidence, given his performance with the laser last
night, that the people now considered him to be some sort of god. He had
tried to explain that he was no such thing, but the gulf, both linguistic
and cultural, was too wide to be so quickly bridged by any explanation he
had to give. He had at last gotten them to stop kneeling down to him, and
look him in the eyes. Of course, the fact that he had saved the injured
girl didn't help matters in that regard.
     Her name, it seemed, was Pili, and she was the love interest of the
young hunter, named Kudur-Mabug. He went to check on her, turning away
from watching the dead attacker's heads being skewered on sticks, to
check on her. The wound was holding, thanks to his impromptu surgery, but
it was the poultice, found among the dead medicine man's possessions,
that had really saved her, he decided. What should have been a mass of
swollen infection was healing nicely. Almost as good as his med-kit...
     "Hey," he called, to one of the hunters. He wanted to find his crash
site. If he could activate the locator beacon, and get a hold of his
Languatron, things would improve. He was frustrated at his lack on
comprehension, and he was sure Oswy must have returned to the others, and
the patrol must have made it back to the Fleet by now. If they we're
coming after him, and he could get a signal out...
     "Boo-mer," said Utu-Hegal, now wearing one of the captured swords in
his belt, as well as the leather jerkin of one of the attackers, "We go."
He pointed towards the forest, in the direction of where the Viper had
come down. Boomer nodded, and they were off.
     
     Chapter 13
     
     "Any clue as to why, Colonel?" asked Adama.
     "None sir, since we're still under radio silence. The shuttle
stopped abruptly, before reaching the system, and stayed virtually
stationary for just over two centars." Both men looked at the scanners.
The shuttle was clearly visible, once more on course for the mysterious
solar system. "She's under way again, but her speed is down, sir."
     "How much?"
     "Approximately twenty percent, Commander."
     "Concentrated scan on the shuttle, please," ordered Adama. Rigel
complied, and they read the data. Everyone aboard the shuttle was still
alive, so that wasn't it. Engine trouble, Adama decided, from the power
curve he was seeing. Something went wrong, as if there hadn't been enough
go wrong today. The bilious taste of his encounter with Sire Antipas was
still in Adama's mouth. Now, on top of everything, to have the rescue
shuttle run into trouble...
     "Steady as she goes, Colonel."
     "Sir."


     "This is almost like being home, again," said Oswy, as he and Athena
worked their way slowly through the dense forest. 
     "Yes," said Athena, picking a dead twig out of her face, "you
mentioned summers with your un..." She cursed, as she slipped on the dead
foliage, barking her shin on a fallen branch. Damned, fracking piece of
wood!
     "Uncle, Cadet." Lords of Kobol, does this forest have an opposite
side? She looked over at Oswy, finding his way through the tangle like a
real pro. Gonna wipe that smile right off your face, kid...
     "Isn't it wonderful, Lieutenant?" asked Oswy, taking in the sweep of
the verdant thickness. "After all this time, cooped up in big metal
boxes. Fresh, real air." He took a deep breath, then stopped, and looked
down, where a stream crossed their path. He scanned it, then knelt down
and tasted. His face took on the aura of an enraptured lover. "Real
water."
     "Yeah, it's...wonderful, Cadet," snarled Athena, as some forest
creature cried out amidst the tangle. She had never been what one would
have called an outdoor person. Athena's idea of communing with Nature was
taking a stroll through the public gardens of Caprica City with its
neatly aligned pathways and benches for comfort, or a visit to the local
botanical shop with its carefully controlled environment. The wildness of
this planet and all the dangers about them struck her as too much
overcompensation from the controlled environment of the Galactica that
she found herself yearning for more than ever. Athena liked walls, decks,
ceilings, things neat, controlled, orderly and at right angles. Not
this...this wildness all about them.  What the... She whirled about,
reaching for her laser, as something stuck her in the back. What was it?
An animal? Some wild hungry predatory beast? Some...
     Branch.
     "Come on," she sighed, and they continued towards the scanner
traces.


     "What the frack..." said Boomer, as the ground rumbled under his
feet. He stopped, and it did not recur.
     Great. Not only stuck on some Stone-Age rock, but one with
capricaquakes. Aren't I a lucky boy? He looked to his companions, but
they spoke too fast to follow even the few words he was certain of. His
leg was giving him a bad time again, and he signaled for a stop.
Utu-Hegal and Kadur-Mabug sat across from him, on a large rock. As he
took in the surroundings, Boomer returned to his work on the language. He
also returned to his work on a project of sorts. He'd noticed, during the
attack, that neither side seemed to posses the bow. The bad guys had
hurled spears, the hunters the same, or used their chillingly efficient
blowguns.
     It struck him as odd that so simple a weapon should be unknown here.
So, he had decided to advance their crude arsenal, and  -- making use of
skills recalled from his long-ago Academy survival training -- invent it
for them. As he sat, trying to figure out the nouns from the verbs, he
continued working on the latest version. It had been tricky, finding
materials with the right strength and elasticity, but so far...
     Utu-Hegal, who still seemed inclined at times to want to fall down
in worship of him, watched closely as the Warrior's fingers deftly twined
together this and that. He was glued to it, as Boomer knocked his crude
arrow, and pulled back...
     The arrow buried itself in a tree trunk, the twang reverberating for
several moments in the quiet. Both hunters stared wild-eyed at both the
weapon, and the result. Boomer could see their minds working to
assimilate this new wonder, and contemplate its potential. Kadur-Mabug
reached out for it, and Boomer handed it to him. The young buck looked it
over, and tried to draw it. It was tough, but the young man had muscles
like an athlete, and he drew it till it slipped from his fingers. He
yelped in surprise, dropping the weapon, and Utu-Hegal couldn't suppress
a laugh, as the younger man shook and sucked on his wounded fingers.
Boomer took it back, and demonstrated once more. Both men nodded in
appreciation, and in wonder. 
     "Boo-Mer," asked Kadur-Mabug, shaking the new wonder weapon, "make
more?"
     "Sure," replied Boomer, retrieving his arrow from the tree. It took
nearly a centar, but he showed them how to make an arrow from thin
branches, cut and shaped with the primitive flint tools they used. When
he had half a dozen arrows, crudely fletched with leaves, he started the
lessons. Both men were clumsy, but began to show their skill after
several tries. After perhaps another centar, Boomer's leg felt better,
and they resumed their trek.
     Watched closely by unsympathetic eyes.
     
     "Picking up a Viper's beacon, sir," said Grumio, on the shuttle. He
touched Apollo on the arm, and the Captain snapped awake. He was
momentarily cross, having been in the midst of a most pleasant dream
involving a certain Warrior, but quickly recovered himself.  
     "Uhh...Yeah. ID code?"
     "Checking, sir." Grumio routed the signal through the computer. "The
ID number corresponds to Cadet Oswy's Viper, sir."
     "That the only one?"
     "So far, sir. I...wait. Yes, now picking up a second one. There's a
lot of radio noise coming from the dwarf star, sir. It's interfering
right now."
     "Are we in com range, yet?"
     "No, sir," replied Grumio. "We won't reach com range for
another...nine centars, sir."
     "Nine...frack!" grumbled Apollo.
     "Sir?"
     "Nothing, Cadet. How's our speed?"
     "I had to reduce it by another percent and a half, Captain. The
primary manifold on the damaged side was getting near to redline again,
sir."
     "I see. Steady as she goes, Cadet."

        Chapter 14

     Boomer could never remember being in so thick a growth of anything.
He remembered Starbuck once telling him about wandering in the Thorn
Forest on Caprica, scarcely more than a baby, after a Cylon raid that had
destroyed his childhood home. Can't possibly have been this thick! he
decided, as he struggled to make it over a huge fallen log.
     Though not an outdoorsman, Boomer was nonetheless aware that the
forest was not empty. The forest's native creatures were all about them,
and from what he was able to glean from the talk of his companions,
something was watching or pacing them. Both men held their spears in
tight grasps, as if ready for anything that might suddenly leap out from
the endless green gloom. After negotiating a muddy ford, they came to a
small clearing, and both natives stopped, their bodies whip-tight as they
listened.
     Directly above, through a gap in the canopy, sunlight streamed down
like a spear, giving the whole area a weird aspect. There was a hideous
screech, like a soul in torment, and the others looked up, Boomer
following their gaze skywards. After a few microns, his eyes adjusted to
the sunlight, and he could see blue sky and clouds beyond...
     And something vast and winged, momentarily cutting off the light.
Both hunters shuddered, muttering to each other, and shifting their feet.
Boomer himself felt a cold wash of fear, remembering his one and only
encounter with one of the flying dragons. He shook it off, and drew his
laser, ready if the savage beast should...
     But it flew on, letting out another long scream as it did so. Either
it was just patrolling the region, not looking for anything in
particular, or it didn't penetrate the forest cover, even in search of
prey. Either way, Boomer was relieved. He had no desire, whatsoever, to
meet one of the prehistoric beasts ever again
     "Ushum," said Kadur-Mabug, pointing upwards, and Utu-Hegal grunted
in agreement, before launching into a stream of nativespeak Boomer
couldn't begin to follow. They went on for a long time, but beyond kill,
hunt, fly, and mate, he got nothing out of the conversation. After a few
moments, the primitive men seemed to regain their composure, and they
continued on, into the forest.
 
     Athena was wishing that somehow, she'd drawn a different student for
this patrol. While "getting back to nature" had its place, she was
getting mightily annoyed at the minute descriptions coming from Oswy
concerning every plant they encountered on their trek. Nerdy geek!
"Monacious monocotylidon," "deciduous," or even the ever-popular
"sporiferous" meant about as much to her as the inner workings of Cylon
society. A plant was either useful to man, or it was not. A Cylon either
got blown up, or it didn't. To her, it was all the...
     "Oh give it a rest, Cadet!" she snapped, louder than she had
intended, as the other pilot began to detail to her the various kinds of
fungus he'd found. "Who gives a pile of Cylon mong whether it uses spores
or seeds!" Almost as soon as she'd exploded, though, Athena regretted it.
After all, the kid had grown up surrounded by the natural world, and was
in his element. She could no more blame him than she could a long-deaf
musician suddenly able to hear again, or a bereaved parent having their
child restored.
     And, she couldn't stop thinking about Boomer. Was he okay? Had he
survivied? Could he...did...
     "Sorry. I'm just...what was it you were saying, Ca...Oswy?"
     "I..." began Oswy, unsure how to proceed. First, she blew his wings
off, then called him by name. Weird. "I was saying, ma'am, this plant,
here." He motioned her closer. "Recognize this?" he asked, lifting a
fruit-laden branch up into a shaft of sunlight.
     "Strawberry?" she asked, as it sunk in. She picked it, and
cautiously sniffed it. Yes, it was indeed a strawberry, and the very
scent brought back memories of her mother's garden, back behind the house
on Caprica, and the gorgeous red fruit she'd cultivated there. It was one
fruit Athena could never get enough of as a kid. How in Hades had this
plant...
     "Yeah," said Oswy, as she took a taste. It was a bit past prime, but
was welcome nonetheless. She closed her eyes, and let the flavor carry
her back for a moment.
     "Thirteenth Tribe?" she asked at last, looking at the cadet.
     "That's my guess. This is a plant known to us back home. And that's
not all, ma'am. So far, I've seen six plants I recognize from the
Colonies, and one animal. Look here." He called her over to another
plant, from which wafted a sweet odor. "Honeysuckle, ma'am. We have some
on one of the Agro ships. And this?" He pointed at a plant with dark
green leaves. "One of the Ivy family. This one here..." He reached out
and grabbed her hand, before she could touch the leaves. "Careful ma'am.
The leaves secrete a very powerful blistering agent." He ran his scanner
over the plant, and showed her the results.
     "Ouch."
     "Yes. Very dangerous. I fell into some when I was about three. My
face was badly burned, and I almost lost an eye, because of it."
     "I'll defer to your expertise, Cadet." She eyed the innocent-looking
ivy a moment longer, then returned to her scanner. They had found a
well-used animal trail amidst the tangle of the forest, and were making
slightly better time now. According to her instruments, the metallic
contact was dead ahead on this path. That, and...
     "Three contacts, ma'am," said Oswy, back to the mission at hand.
"All male. Approximately one killimetron that way." He pointed.
     "I see them. And something else, too, Cadet. Other life forms,
nearby. Roughly paralleling their movements."
     "I see it, too, ma'am. But not Human." He adjusted his unit. "Not
Human. Not warm-blooded."
     "Sentient?"
     "Impossible to determine that at this range, ma'am. But from the
mass and metabolism, I'd say not."
     "Still," Athena replied, drawing her weapon, and checking it. "You
never know. Come on, Cadet."
     "On your six, ma'am."
 
     "Captain Apollo, sir?" said Cadet Grumio. "Planet now on our
long-range scanner."
     "Good. What's out ETA, Cadet?"
     "Just over seven centars, sir."
     "Understood," sighed Apollo, wishing once more that he could somehow
squeeze more speed out of their wounded engines. "Steady as she goes,
Cadet."
     "Sir." 
 
     While he was no Mighty Hunter, Boomer couldn't shake the sense of
being followed. He looked at his companions, and noticed how edgy they
had become over the last few centons. Yeah, they feel it too, he told
himself, slinging his bow over one shoulder, and slowly rechecking his
pistol, eyes darting about the trees surrounding them. Many yahren of
flying patrols in Cylon space had honed his natural sense of danger. This
was an environment utterly unlike that of a cockpit, speeding through the
void, but it was, still, enemy territory all the same.
     "Utu-Hegal," he asked, quietly. The older hunter turned.
"Uh....lu-erim?" Lu-erim. Enemy. Boomer pointed towards the thick tangle
of the forest.
     "Lu-erim," nodded the older man. "Enn-ummy. Bad."
     "People?" asked Boomer. "Iginim?" The hostile tribe they had
encountered. Utu-hegal shook his head. Apparently, this was something
else, but Boomer couldn't begin to follow the other's words. He tried,
but he felt certain that "flying through a woman's dessert" was not what
the hunter had meant. 
     "Here," said Kudur-Mabug, gesturing. They had reached the edge of a
hill, and looked down, to see some sort of fabric tangled amidst the
foliage. Boomer at once recognized it as his cockpit's parachute. They'd
made it at last! He began to move...

     
Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
     "Ma'am?" asked Oswy, stopping short.
     "Don't know, but it doesn't sound good, Cadet." She checked her
weapon again. "Come on!"
 

     Chapter 15
     
     "Holy Frack!" cried Boomer, at the sound from above him. It sounded
like one of the flying creatures, but closer. He gripped his weapons more
tightly, and quickened his pace towards the downed cockpit. Shreds of the
parachute were still tangled in the trees above, and the lines snarled
all about. The cockpit was on it's side, and as he lifted the parachute
from it, some furry thing darted away. Whatever it was had eaten away
part of the seat cover, but otherwise the cockpit seemed intact. The
hunters, still tense and nervous, moved close to him, their attention
divided between this strange machine, and the noises about them.
Utu-Hegal muttered endlessly, too fast for Boomer to follow, and the
other spat out short clipped words, the sort Boomer needed no Languatron
to translate.
     He checked power, and the reserve battery seemed okay, if a bit
lower than he'd hoped. Reaching across, he flipped the locator beacon on,
and, after a few anxious microns, was rewarded with a low, constant
pulse.
     
     "Commander!" said Rigel, turning from her station.
     "Yes?"
     "Now receiving transmission from Lieutenant Boomer's Viper, sir."
     "Audio?" asked Adama, dropping the paper he was perusing and
switching her scans to his station.
     "No, sir. Just the long-range locator beacon. It's at a low power
level, but the ID code matches Lieutenant Boomer's ship."
     "Excellent. Concentrated scan, please. Try and pinpoint his wreck
site on the planet."
     "Sir."
     "Commander, do we break radio silence, and inform our rescue party?"
asked Tigh.
     "No, Colonel. They'll have picked it up, too. No sense giving a
pursuer more to track us by than they already have. Steady as she goes."
     "Yes, Commander."

     "I can't, Starbuck," said Apollo. "She's redlining, now. Any more
acceleration, and we'll blow the manifold."
     "But..."
     "No buts, Buddy. If we fly apart before getting there, we won't help
Boomer, much."
     "At least we know he's okay, though," said Grumio. "Don't worry,
sir. The Lieutenant's going to make it." He watched, as the shuttle's
computer generated a map of the planet, a flashing dot marking the site
of transmission.
     For the first time since Boomer's ship was attacked, he felt a ray
of hope. He smiled, and went aft to tell Cassie.  
     
     "Duck!" ordered Athena.
     
     Boomer popped the cover on one of the cockpit's emergency equipment
compartments, and inspected the contents. Though the hatch had been badly
dented on landing, the interior was okay. He took out the spare laser,
strapping it and the charge packs to his other hip, the medkit, the food
packs, as well as the scanner, the emergency communit, and Languatron.
The second compartment contained more food, extra clothes, both cold and
warm weather, and a lifemask, with extra oxygen cells. Stuffing as much
as possible into the backpack, he poked his head back into the cockpit
proper, and...
     "Aiyeeeee!!!" cried Kudur-Mabug, and ducked behind the wreckage,
nearly knocking Boomer off his feet. Boomer shouted something uncouth,
and pulled back, too see...
     Something dropping on him from above. It hit the side of the ship,
and bounced off. As he reached for his sidearm, something else flew past,
banging loudly off the cockpit's side. It was a rock! Even as he tried to
make sense of this new attack, something else dropped from above, right
in front of him. It was large, not a rock, carried itself on two legs,
and glared down at him with evil-looking red eyes, in a heavy face with a
short, round snout, filled with wicked teeth. It's hands were clawed, as
were the feet. More like the talons of birds than Human hands, he was
sure they could shred him like a piece of paper with little effort. It
was manifestly another of the weird prehistoric beasts that inhabited
this world, reptilian like the ones ridden by the attacking Iginim, but
more upright. Hissing loudly, mouth agape, it reached for him...
     And screamed, then toppled to the ground dead, Utu-Hegal's spear
skewering its throat, blood spattering Boomer's face and hair. It had all
happened in scarcely four microns, so swift had the creature attacked. Or
rather creatures. More seemed to be emerging from the forest, at least
six, so far as he could tell. He grabbed the scanner, and found another
of the horrid things. Taking aim, he blew it's head off, sending it
tumbling to the forest floor. Then, something slammed hard into him from
behind...

        Chapter 16

     Boomer cried out in pain, as something hard plowed into his back,
and sent him reeling. He felt the laser fly from his hand, and there was
a hissing sound in one ear. Close and terrifying, it was accompanied by a
rank, putrid stench, and what he would have sworn was a laugh. He tried
to turn, to face it, to fight, but something heavy was atop him. Heavy,
and hideously strong. For an instant, he remembered once having wrestled
a Cylon Centurion, on a covert mission.  Pure machines that did not tire,
it was like trying to wrestle a boulder on your chest. But this was
worse. The Cylon had merely been doing what its machine programming told
it to do, without hatred or malice. This slimy, stinking creature seemed
to enjoy what it was doing. Like being entwined in strangling snakes, he
was hefted up, and felt sharp talons rake along his skin. He was brought
eye to eye with the thing, its razor-sharp teeth dipped close, ready to
rip and tear, and he tried to scream.
     Then, blood gushed from the hideous maw, and the reptilian eyes
widened in shock, as he heard the unmistakable sound of a Colonial
pistol. In a sudden spasm, he was clenched even tighter by his attacker. 
Then the reptile screeched loudly, head thrown back. One claw released
Boomer, and he found the strength of the creature ebbing. It fell to the
ground, the Warrior still in its grip, as it lay twitching and writhing,
horrid gasps of pain and reek belching from its mouth. Stifling his own
cries of pain, he worked to wriggle free, then felt something pull him
free. He looked up...
     "Oswy?" he managed to hack out, pain shooting through his side. Each
breath was like a stab, and he bit his lip as the Cadet helped him to his
feet. He tried to wipe the gore from his face...
     And heard the twang of his makeshift bow. As his vision cleared, he
saw Utu-Hegal, bow in hand, take down one of the evil things. It
staggered as the crude arrow skewered its belly. The younger hunter was a
blur of movement, as he swung the captured sword wildly. Boomer tried to
find his own weapon, but his vision wouldn't stop swimming as if he had
had way too much of Starbuck's favorite ambrosia.
     Then, more laser shots ripped the air, followed by a loud cry. Or
was it a scream? It was familiar, and it was female. He turned around,
Oswy's arm supporting him, and saw a female Warrior, hair flailing about
her, take down another of the horrid things. Oswy fired two more shots. 
Then Boomer felt nausea rise up, and he let go, toppling into blessed
blackness.

     He awoke to blessed warmth, and the feel of something soft pressed
against his skin. As consciousness seeped back, he felt his own
breathing, and then heard sounds about him. He opened his eyes, and saw a
blur. He blinked, scrunched his eyes shut, then blinked again. The
colored blob in front of him slowly resolve to...
     "Athena....?" he said, his voice a bit hoarse. Clarity returned with
a snap and flood of relief. "Athena!" His voice cracked as he tried to
sit up, a bit too quickly, and reached out, putting a hand on her
shoulder. "Lords of Kobol, it's really you!"
     "Thank the Lords!" she exclaimed, caressing his brow. "Didn't think
I was going to leave you behind, did you?" she replied, voice tight. They
were back in the cave, the fires of the inhabitants blazing brightly.
Through the mouth of the cave, Boomer could see that the sky was nearly
black. He'd been out for awhile. "Almost six centars," she answered his
question. "That thing was about to rip you like gutting a fish."
     "That...thing," Boomer grumbled, sitting up with Athena's help as
she gripped his arm.  Boomer slid his hand off her shoulder and found
Athena's.  Gently grasping it, he locked his eyes with hers.  "Thanks,"
he whispered. 
     Athena held the gaze for a moment before looking away, and Boomer
saw... he wasn't sure what, but the emotions coursing through him went
beyond intense relief and joy to be alive and for just and instant, he
could have sworn he felt the same from her.  He felt her squeeze his hand
as she answered, "No problem."
     Boomer took a deep breath and glanced at their observers.  Back to
business, he told himself. 
     "Where...ah, where's Grumio? Did he make it back to you?"
     "Yes," replied Athena after a moment.  She cleared her throat,
glancing at the hunters, then stated, "I sent him back to the Galactica
to report the situation."
     "Heard anything from the Fleet?"
     "Not a peep, Boomer," she replied, for a moment looking worried.
"But at least you're okay. Aside from getting the wind knocked out of
you, and having a bit of a concussion and some bad cuts, you seem to have
come through fairly well." She held up a hypo, from the Medkit.
     "What's that?" he asked.
     "Antibiotic. Those claws on that thing looked pretty nasty, Boomer."
She injected him with the medication. As he looked himself over, he could
see that he'd already been bandaged in several places, and with Fleet
issue materials, replacing the native remedies. He continued to look
around, and his eyes fell on a still figure, dressed in Colonial garb.
     "Who?"
     "Cadet Oswy," sighed Athena. "One of those lizard things slammed
into him, even harder than you. They crashed into a tree, and he's still
out. The medscanner says he's got a serious concussion, and a broken
shoulder blade. With just the medkit, there isn't much I can do for him
here. He needs to get back to the Life Station."
     "Well, I activated the locator beacon in my cockpit right before
the..." He grunted, and he made it all the way to a sitting position.
"Right before the Flying Nomen Brothers showed up. I still had power to
transmit."
     "Ours were left on, too. The Galactica should pick us up, no sweat."
She ran the medscanner over him again, then put the kit away. She paused
and looked around her. "Well, it seems like you found some friends here,"
she said at length, indicating the cave dwellers, most of whom were
watching the two Colonials closely.
     "Yeah. They rescued me when my cockpit came down. And Athena, I
think they're related."
     "Related?"
     "Yeah," he said, making it to his knees, and crawling towards the
insensate Oswy. "To us. I've been trying to pick up their language, and
vice versa. It's mostly gibberish, but I've found a couple of words that
match what the Commander found when he scanned those ancient inscriptions
in the city of Eden, on Kobol." He began looking the injured Cadet over.
Oswy, one eye swollen nearly shut, and lips black and swollen too, looked
as if he'd gone about ten rounds with the Cylon Heavyweight Boxing
Champion, but according to the scanner, his vitals were holding steady.
"And some of the plants, too, are just like ones from home," he added.
     "We saw several as well. I mean Oswy did. Thirteenth Tribe, then?"
she ventured.
     "Yeah. I'll wager one of Starbuck's systems on it. And this planet
is covered with ruined cities."
     "So we saw, from the scans."
     "About Fifth, or maybe Sixth Millennium level. Advanced, and each
shows signs of nuclear bombardment.
     "These folks here," and he inclined his head towards the primitives,
"are the descendants of the survivors of a nuclear holocaust. It all fits
with the satellite we saw."
     "Horrible," she muttered, then swore, as Boomer tried to stand. He
got up, then felt the world spin. "Hey, the pain killers haven't all worn
off, yet, Boomer. Take it easy."
     "I'm okay." He looked around, and found his satchel. "Be careful,"
he told her, as he searched it for his...
     "Here," she smiled, handing it to him.
     ...languatron. He powered it up, and lowered his voice. "Some of
these folks think I'm some kind of god. Superbeing. Whatever. We have to
tread lightly."
     "I see. Who knows how they might react."
     "Exactly. Their material culture seems primitive, but I keep finding
layers beneath layers. Socially, they seem as sophisticated as any
Colonists." He adjusted the Languatron, and was about to move over to
where Utu-Hegal sat, when the red-haired girl, Pili, suddenly appeared at
his shoulder, platter of food in her good hand, the other arm in a sling.
Holding up the device, he thanked her. Her expression was at first
confused, the her eyes widened in astonishment. Obviously, this was yet
another wonder from Heaven, come down in their midst.
     "How are you?" he asked her, slowly. Her answer was at first
garbage, but after a couple of passes through the processor, it came out
a perfect "I am better muchly, Boomer."
     Okay, not so perfect.
     The two Warriors moved closer to the others, and Boomer greeted them
all, introducing his companions. As they answered, the machine built up a
database of native vocabulary, and soon, he was getting meaningful
sentences.
     "The raptons lurk deep in the forest," said Utu-Hegal, hardly able
to take his eyes off the flashing device.
     "They have not come near for a long time."
     "Are you a goddess?" asked Kudur-Mabug, of Athena. 
     "NO!" declared Athena, shaking her head. She tried to explain their
origins, but the Languatron did not yet have enough vocabulary to render
Battlestar, Cylon, or other such words. In fact, she doubted that their
language, shrunk to the primitive needs of a primitive people, had the
vocabulary to fully grasp them. Still...
     After several centars of working with the machine, she got up to
check on Oswy. He was still comatose, but his vital signs had slipped no
further, for which she was thankful. She turned to see Boomer, showing
the other men how to construct bows. Like him she found it odd that a
people living in this environment had never thought of so simple a
weapon. As the evening wore down, and the primitives sought sleep, Boomer
returned to his little area. Thoughtfully, Pili had spread an extra
animal skin next to his.
     "How's it going?" she asked.
     "Fine."
     "You do know, of course, that any technical aid to a culture like
this is strictly forbidden by regs, Boomer."
     "Well, if you don't tell Sire Solon, neither will I. These people
saved my life, Athena. They could have left me to die, or decided that I
tasted good, but they helped me. I owe them." As he sat down, he reached
for a long piece of animal hide. On it were traced various symbols, in
charcoal.
     "What's that?"
     "These people can't write, Athena. They're surrounded by enemies. I
decided that teaching them to write would be a good thing, to help them
on the path to recovering what they once had." He showed her his efforts.
     Various letters from Colonial Standard were paired with simplified
signs. Already, he had nearly a complete alphabet.
     "I never knew you were such a scholar," she smiled.
     "Not me. My Aunt Adelia. She was a primary school teacher. When my
parents died, she took me in. She was hard, but fair. She made sure I
knew my lessons, and even helped prepare me for my Academy entrance exam.
She left me with a love of letters and learning."
     "Yet you became a Warrior," she replied, running her fingers through
her tangled hair.
     "It was the right thing to do, Athena. So many of our people dying,
yet so many others acting as if it were just someone else's business."
She watched his face as he trailed off, certain that there was a story
here. More to it than just "it was the right thing to do."
     "Boomer," she said, her voice quiet, almost tentative. "I..."
     "Yeah?" he said, putting his new alphabet away.
     "I was worried sick I wasn't going to find you,' she said at last.
"After Grumio told us what happened..."
     "But I made it, Athena. And we'll make it back."
     "What if we...I mean, the Galactica. If the Cylons find..."
     "Hey, Athena," he said, reaching out and taking her hand. "Don't
worry. We'll see them all again. Our friends, the Fleet. We'll make it."
     "I...hope so, Boomer," she continued, both wondering why her guts
wouldn't settle down, and knowing why they wouldn't. "I...I was so
afraid."
     "Afraid? You? I've never seen you afraid, not from the day you came
aboard the Galactica. Even at Zac's welcoming party, when Starbuck and
Giles put the rubber crawlons in his helmet, and..."
     "I was afraid you were dead!" she interjected sharply, her eyes
growing intense. "I was worried sick, every moment. I...Oh God."
     "Athena?" he said, gently, moving closer to her. Did she? Could he
dare to hope... "Athena, I..." he began, but she moved his hand from
hers, to her lips. From there, it was all a blur, as she kissed him, and
he forgot about everything.

       Chapter 17

     "Son of a fatherless Ovion with no..." swore Starbuck, as he read
over his instrument panel once more. He continued to string out the
child-suitable language till Apollo told him to cool it. Unfortunately,
Apollo could do nothing to cool his friend's temper.
     "What is it?" asked Cassie, coming forward. The blinking lights on
the control console betokened something dire, she could tell.
     "Starboard manifold," replied Apollo. "Even running at reduced
pressure, it's overheated with all the damage, and a valve has seized up,
Cassie. We had to shut the main starboard thruster down, or risk blowing
the engine entirely."
     "Can you fix it?" she asked, looking from one Warrior to another.
     "Not without returning to the Galactica," said Starbuck, shaking his
head. "Either that, or another long spacewalk. We're down to the
auxiliary thruster starboard, but it's like a pee shooter next to a
pulsar. We might as well fracking row."
     "How close are we to the planet?" she asked.
     "We're now within scanner range of her, Cassie," said Starbuck. he
checked his sensor readings again. "I'm picking up the old satellite, and
the computer has pinpointed the beacons." He watched, as the computer
correlated these new scans with Grumio's flight data, building up an ever
more detailed map of the planet. "Maybe once we land, we can do something
with it, but even then, I'm not sure."
     "Can you find any of them?" she asked. "The other pilots?"
     "Too far for that, yet," said Apollo. "Scanners are already on
maximum. With our speed down like this, we won't make orbit until morning
sometime." They all looked out the window, to where the main star shone,
a slowly growing bright spot amidst the blackness, the planet itself
still too small to be seen. With a sigh, he reached for the commsuite,
but Starbuck beat him to it.
     "This is Galactica shuttle to Viper patrol, on frequency Delta Iota
Four. Respond, please." There was only hiss from the speakers. "Repeat,
this is Galactica shuttle to Viper patrol, respond please." They
listened, stretching the communications gear to its limits, but no luck.
They were still out of range, or nobody was listening. In frustration,
Starbuck punched another button, and was rewarded with a slow series of
loud beeps, amid the hiss. "The transponders in Athena and Oswy's ships
are answering, but that's it. The signal from Boomer's just stays on the
distress channel."
     "If he ejected, he'd only have the cockpit beacon. Right?" asked
Cassie. 
     "I'm hoping he might be able to set up the emergency communicator,
but that channel's dead air so far. Aside from that, yes. Just the
cockpit beacon," Apollo nodded, and tried calling again. Again, there was
no answer.
 
     Athena awoke, at first forgetting just where she was. She had never
in her life slept on animal skins before, with all of the cleanliness and
hygiene that implied, so she awoke to an itch. After a few microns, she
remembered where she was, and what had happened. She turned her head, and
saw the faintest hint of the coming dawn through the mouth of the cave.
Their fire had burned itself out, and she felt the chill air of the
night. Reaching over, she pulled her jacket over herself, suddenly very
self-conscious of her nakedness, even in the near black.
     Lords of Kobol! I can't believe this! You really went and...And in a
damned cave full of people watching...But why not? You've been worrying
about him like a simpering virgo ever since this whole thing started.
Bottled up. Face it, girl. You've wanted this for a long time, dreamed
about it, fantasized about it, ever since...
     Ever since Starbuck had so unceremoniously dumped her for Cassie.
For an instant, only an instant, she felt the fire of that old jealousy,
and as quickly felt it sputter out. She honestly held no animosity
towards the beautiful MedTech. She knew what a fabulous lover Starbuck
could be, and wished Cassie every joy, both physical and emotional.
     Yet, she had never felt like this. Never felt such...need. Such pure
animal passion with, or for, anyone. Not even her first time, when
Starbuck had gently, if wildly, introduced her to physical love, had the
drive been so powerful. Much to her surprise, she had discovered that
Boomer was more than a match for her, spewing forth a passion and power
equal to her own. She wondered why she had waited so long to...Fear?
reticence? Some deeply encoded misogyny from some long ago time? The
Lords of Kobol knew, and doubtless had other things of more moment to
care about. She only knew, as she turned to look at him, still only a
vague shape in the growing light, that she was in love.  Had been, ever
since their mutual brush with death in the Rejuvenation Center when she'd
impulsively given him a kiss for luck during the final tension filled
period of waiting to see if they'd emerge with their lives. She ran it
over and over in her mind as the light slowly grew. Yes. She was sure of
it.
     Wonderful place to finally figure it out, Athena. Stuck on some
backwater planet, waiting for rescue. In a cave, surrounded by a bunch of
spear wielding primitives that think a bow and arrow are a pretty neat
idea. Knock on wood!!! I wonder if he really feels the same about me?
He's had his share of conquests. Of course, next to Starbuck he looks
like a monk, but...was I just an...episode? Or did he really mean it,
when he told me...
     She heard a moan, and recognized Cadet Oswy's voice. Getting up
quietly, so as not to disturb Boomer, she hurriedly dressed, and went to
check on the injured Warrior. In the growing light, she could see that
the swelling around his face was no worse than last night, and the
scanner said his vitals were a bit stronger. She couldn't interpret the
brain wave readings much, but she was beginning to hope that he might
recover, even without the Life Station. He was trying to open an eye, and
she smiled down at him. He was coming up out of his coma, and she gave
him both water, and a small ration of food. He thanked her, before
lapsing back into sleep.
     "Athena," said a female voice, and she turned, startled. It was
Pili, the native girl, holding a wooden bowl full of water. She held it
out, and Athena drank greedily. She could see better now, as the sky grew
ever brighter, and several people were already up, relighting the fires
for the day. The girl spoke again, but it was gibberish. Athena returned
to her pack, and fished out the Languatron.
     "He is well?" the girl asked, eyeing the mysterious device uneasily.
     "Yes. he is just tired is all, Pili." She turned the volume down on
the unit, lest it disturb him. "How are you? Your wound?"
     "Much better. It healeth well. Thy magic is mighty."
     "It is not magic, Pili," admonished Athena, as gently as she could.
"It is the...art of healing."
     "Thou art a healer?"
     "No. I know little of healing, save that which a...a warrior should
know. But I brought some medicines and tools of the art with me, in case
he needed them. And often sleep mends what men cannot." As she spoke, she
turned the girl around, and rechecked her wound. It was healing very
nicely.
     "Where in the sky hailest thou from?" she asked Athena, then looked
at the still sleeping Boomer. "Art thou his wife?"
     "Uh..." Athena hoped she wasn't turning as red as the Nova Madagon
right now. "We are... wanderers, and have come here from a far place,
Pili. We called it 'The Colonies.' We are searching for...for brethren,
sundered from us long ago, and were traveling near your world, when his
ship crashed."
     "The ushum!" shuddered Pili, looking upwards, despite the cave roof
in the way. "The ushum tore him from the sky."
     "So we saw," replied Athena. She watched the girl look from Boomer,
to her, then back again, and knew what was coming next. She deflected it
with a sudden idea.
     "Kobol?" asked Pili, her face a puzzle for a moment. "Yes! Ghobal!"
she lit up. "I remember my mother, long ago, telling stories of a
far-away island."
     "Island?"
     "Verily. She told the tale of how our distant fathers did sail here
from the land of Ghobal, in the long ago dawning of the world, and how
others had strife with them, and chose not to join them but sail on."
Athena tried to keep her expression neutral. "It was before the Age of
Fire."
     "The Age of Fire?"
     "Yes. Once, many lives of men ago, our fathers lived in the Great
Desolate places. They commanded engines of great magic and power. But
some among them were evil, and did heed fell words of death. They loosed
upon each other mighty demons of light and fire, and almost all the
people were slain."
     "They destroyed the cities?"
     "Cities...ah, yes. Cities. They were all split asunder and laid low
by the thunderbolts of fire the sorcerers wielded. We are of the few who
listened to the words of life, and were spared." Pili's head drooped, as
if the tale had filled her with pain. But it was more personal. "My
mother was the LoreSpeaker of our people. She knew all the ancient tales,
Athena. Passed down to her from her mother, and her mother before."
     "Then you know all these tales," asked Athena, hopeful of some more
clues about the 13th Tribe, however obscured by legend they might have
become.
     "No. My mother was slain by a rapton, three summers past, before she
could impart unto me all her lore." Pili sighed. "Lost. All lost."
     "I'm sorry," said Athena. "My mother, too, was slain by enemies,
before her full span was lived out." Pili looked at her, and for a
moment, there was a connection between these two women, separated by
immense seas of time and space. Then, before the girl could speak more,
her father called to her, and Athena returned to Boomer. He was still
asleep, and she lay back for a moment, trying to assimilate all that
she...
     "What the Hades..." she muttered, as she saw the piece of corroded
pipe extending from the cave wall. Last night, absorbed in more immediate
concerns, she had not espied it. Now, she got up again, and scanned it.
"Lords!" she muttered. It was composed of iron, carbon, beryllium, and
other trace metals. As she scanned further, she read a space behind the
rock wall, and what looked like a tunnel. She put her gloves back on,
grabbed the rusty thing, and felt it give as she yanked on it. What if...
     "Athena?" said a voice, and she turned. It was Boomer, sitting up
and rubbing his eyes. He looked at her for a moment, as if he couldn't
believe last night either, then got up to relight the fire.

       Chapter 18

     After their rather spartan breakfast (Athena, a bit unsure about
strange meat cooked on sticks, and vegetables she couldn't even identify,
stuck to a nutrient pack), Boomer returned to showing his hosts how to
make and use the bow. Athena noted that most of his pupils seemed at
first to be more of a danger to themselves, rather than to any prey
animal or potential enemy. But, as the day progressed, they seemed to get
the hang of the newfangled device. After a brief trip into the forest,
Boomer and two others returned with an antelon, and several lupons. The
tribe would feast well tonight.
     As Boomer worked with the natives, Athena tended Oswy. The swelling
on his face seemed to have subsided a little bit, at least his eye was
almost open, and his vitals were stronger. He sat up, her hands
supporting him, at least long enough to take a little food. Athena had to
admit, the broth that Pili brought in a wooden bowl sure smelled good.
Oswy seemed to think so, too, and downed it like a starving man. Gently,
she laid him back down, and gave him another shot of pain killer.
     "Will he live?" asked Pili.
     "I hope so. His internal injuries seem limited to a broken shoulder
blade, thankfully. If we can get him back to our ship, that can be
fixed."
     "Fixed?" asked the girl. Athena repeated herself, and let the
Languatron do its job. "Verily, thou cans't weave bones within the
flesh?" Her expression said it all. Athena explained the bone welder
aboard the Galactica, and what it could do. The girl shook her head in
amazement, and Athena was afraid that she was going to get a worship
session, when Pili held up a finger, her eyes lighting up with an idea.
She headed off to somewhere, and returned with several animal skin
satchels, stuffed with the tools of the late Annipadda, the tribe's
healer. From the girl's talk, it seemed that both the old healer, and his
apprentice, had died in the recent raid, and as yet no one had replaced
him. Pili somehow hoped that Athena could teach her all that a healer
ought to know.
     What, do I look like a medical school professor?
     They wrapped Oswy's shoulder, using vines and leaves, and Athena
found herself impressed with the skill of these primitives. She might be
an illiterate cave dweller, but Athena suspected that Dr. Salik would be
nodding his head in approval about now. 
     "Pili," asked Athena, as she broke the portable communit out of her
equipment pack, "what do you know about that pipe, in the back of the
cave?" 
     "Pipe?" Athena once more had to work around the vocabulary. That,
and the stares she was getting, as she assembled the unit. She erected
the tripod on a flat rock near the cave mouth, and pointed the antenna
skywards, in the general direction they had flown in from. At least she
hoped it was the right direction. If not, hopefully the planet's rotation
would sweep the beam in the general direction of the Fleet. Pili and the
rest watched in fascination as Athena connected the antenna lead and then
plugged in the battery pack. She watched, stifling a smile, as Pili
flinched at the bleeps and flashes of the unit going through it's startup
routine. Once all was green, she lifted the mic to her lips.
     "Viper patrol leader to Galactica, come in please." Hiss. Hum. Buzz.
"Galactica control, this is Viper patrol leader. Respond please."
Nothing. She sighed, tried again, then set the unit to autotransmit a
locator beam.
     "What is wrong?" asked Shubad, one of the older women.
     "Nothing," said Athena. "I will try again later." She flipped the
unit over to solar cells, and headed back towards the cave. One of the
children, a toddler of perhaps three, reached out to touch the device,
but his mother shooed him away. Athena smiled at the sight, reflecting
how children are the same, no matter where in the universe you happen to
be. She turned, and led Pili to the corroded pipe. Pili had seen it
before, of course, but didn't seem to know what it was. Once more, Athena
took hold of it, and tried to twist. The old pipe resisted at first, then
slowly shifted in her grip. Pieces of cave wall and rust fell to the
floor, but the old artifact resolutely refused to...
     Frack!
     With a crunch, the pipe gave way, sending Athena plopping astrum
first onto the fur mat. She made a sour reference to the pipe's
parentage, then held it up to the light. What must once have been wires
were sticking out the inner end, and a few threads were still visible in
the metal. She rose, massaging her offended anatomy, when she heard Pili
give a little cry. She looked from the girl to where she was pointing,
the cave wall.
     Which had fallen inwards, to reveal a dark, mysterious tunnel. 
 
     "Apollo?"
     "Yeah?"
     "Picking up another signal. Ground source." He punched a few
buttons, and let the computer crunch on it for a few microns.
     "It's the portable communit from Boomer's ship!"
     "Are you sure?"
     "Computer had ID'd the code. It matches the one assigned to his
Viper, Apollo."
     "Is there a voice transmission?"
     "No. Still too far for that, from that class unit." Starbuck
squirmed in his seat. "Still..." He called Boomer, and waited. There was
only hiss. He tried again, but still nothing.
     "Wait till we're closer, Starbuck," said Apollo, one eye on his
friend, the other on the engines. "We should be in range fairly soon. But
why no transmission from that unit until now?"
     "Lords know."
     "Well, whatever the reason, we'll just have to wait until we make
orbit, Starbuck."
     "Yeah," said Starbuck, the air fairly exploding out of him in a
sigh. "We wait."

       Chapter 19

     "Anything?" asked Boomer, as Athena scanned the darkness before
them.
     "The tunnel goes back a long ways, Boomer. From the looks of things,
there's some kind of enormous complex down there." She showed him the
scanner readout. "It's a veritable lepon warren of excavations." She
moved her scanner around, switching wavelons to penetrate the ground.
After a centon 7or two, her eyebrows went up. "Boomer, I think we're right
on top of a former habitation site. From the civilization that existed
here, once."
     "A city?"
     "Maybe. Seems kind of small for a city, though. Small town,
perhaps." She scanned some more. "There's an awful lot of synthocrete and
plastics...Hey. Radiation."
     "You sure?"
     "The scanner is." She showed him the readout on the tiny screen.
"Boomer, I don't think this was a city. The way it's laid out...it looks
like some kind of military base." She looked up at him, her expression a
mix of surprise and curiosity.
     "And this 'cave' was right on top. Weird." He turned to look at the
primitives looking at them. He then picked up the corroded pipe Athena
had wrenched from the wall. Out in the light, its nature was clearer.
"Conduit," he said. "Wires, and what look like optical fibers. This was
part of a communications system. Not sure what this piece of tylenium was
from."
     "And I'll lay you ten to one odds in the OClub that this 'cave' was,
once, the terminus of one of..." She turned away from the gloomy cave,
and sought out Pili. The girl was busy dressing one of the day's kills,
one eye on the doings of the Colonials. Athena asked her if there were
any other relics, like the pipe and the transparent chunk. Again, she had
to let the languatron chew its electronic cud for a bit, before spitting
out some reasonably acceptable vocabulary. It seemed that Pili's tribe
had only lived in this particular cave for a little over a year. They had
been driven from their earlier home by a cave-in due to serious seismic
tremors. Upon finding this cave, conveniently close to a source of water,
many "strange artifices" had been found, and carted off, to make room for
all and sundry. Could she see them? Pili looked to her father, and got
the nod. Or, more accurately, the shrug.
     A few hundred paces away, near a clump of the dangerous ivy plants
and under heaps of animal bones and other things best left unmentioned,
was a pile of junk any archaeologist from the Colonies would have
dehydrated himself drooling over. There was more of the transparent
material, confirmed by the scanner to be tylenium, fused and buckled by
intense heat. They could just barely make out a ferrous alloy frame,
badly corroded and set with now-empty bolt holes, that had obviously held
a mechanism of complex gears at one time, a few heavily rusted gear teeth
still visible, as well as what had once been electronic equipment, the
partly melted circuit boards covered with mud and organic material. And
another heavily corroded cable trunk. 
     "This definitely wasn't a natural cave, Boomer," she told him, after
examining the trash. "It was some kind of access point to that
underground complex." She showed him several other scans. "The whole cave
has been flooded, overgrown, dirt's blown in it, the whole ball of
ceraon. After all these centuries, it looks like a natural cave, but it's
artificial."
     "And these gears, and what must have once been a control unit..." He
examined the electronics with the eye of an expert. "Communications
stuff, I think. And what's left of a blast door, maybe. This access point
managed to survive the nuclear devastation, and has been decaying ever
since."
     "We need to get down and look inside that complex, Boomer."
     "Why? For signs of the Thirteenth Tribe?"
     "Exactly. We've seen plants that grew on our homeworlds, as well as
Humans, on a planet unknown to the Colonies, along the very course given
us to Earth. We need to find out whatever the Hades Hole we can."
     "Yeah," replied Boomer, after a moment, scratching his unshaven
chin. "No telling when a rescue ship will get here. Might as well spend
the time profitably." He didn't add, if a rescue ship gets here. He
locked eyes with Athena for a micron, and saw that she understood. He
also saw... "Athena, I want to say something. Last..." He turned, and saw
they had an audience. Pili. Kudur-Mabug. A couple of others. "Later."
 

     "Commander," said Rigel. Adama turned to her. She handed him a
report. He frowned, and handed it to Tigh. Long-range patrol astern had
picked up something. No identity possible at such extreme range, but
whatever it was, it seemed to be keeping pace with the Fleet. The patrol
could not investigate further for lack of fuel, and was on the way back
now. It wasn't scheduled to land for another twenty-two centons, but
Adama already knew what he had to do.
     "Omega."
     "Commander?"
     "Break radio silence with the shuttle. Low band, tight beam." Adama
ordered a change of course. The Fleet would, instead of heading for the
planet, like the shuttle, head for the dead planet orbiting the dwarf
star. Hopefully, the radiation and magnetic field fluctuations from it
would mask them, at least until everyone could be recovered. And, if
someone was following them, they might get a look, without being seen.
"No answer required," continued Adama. "Course laid in?"
     "Laid in, sir."
     "Execute."
 
 
     "Incredible," said Athena, as they moved into the darkness. Her lamp
revealed more signs of technology as they went. "You would never believe
from topside what this used to be."
     "I see it," said Boomer, right behind her. "Completely overgrown.
Not surprising, with all the rain. At least the planet's ecosystem
recovered from all the nuclear devastation." He looked behind, and saw
the entrance, a small square of light, now about the size of a cubit.
     "That's a plus," she replied. 
     From the gap in the "cave" wall, now shown to be badly decayed
concrete, the path had gone back into the gloom about a quarter metron.
The walls, here inside away from the rain and such, were lined with
pipes, conduits, and faded signs in an unfamiliar script. Athena's
scanner whirred constantly, recording it all. They stopped, at an open
door to their right, and peeked inside. It had once been a storage room.
decaying crates were piled haphazardly about, along with several rusted
lockers. That, and...
     "What?" asked Boomer, as Athena choked back a tiny cry.
     "It's okay, Boomer. It's...okay." Boomer looked over her shoulder,
lamp held high, and found that they were not the room's only occupants.
Partly concealed by a fallen crate, its spilled contents now quite
unrecognizable, was a skeleton, still wearing traces of some sort of
uniform. Face up, the skeleton had one arm over its face, as if to shield
itself from something in that final moment.
     "Poor guy," said Boomer, after looking a bit closer. "A close hit
must have knocked everything loose, and crushed him." Wires and light
fixtures hung from the ceiling, and they could hear the slow drip, drip
of water somewhere in the darkness.
     "Let's go," said Athena, and they left the ancient tomb to its
occupant once more. The floor of the corridor began to descend once more,
and they came to a huge set of thick, rusty steel doors, as thick as an
arm is long, standing open. Cautiously they peered in. Athena moved in
also cautiously, and called out...
     "Boomer...Ahhhhhhhhh!!"

       Chapter 20
        
     "Adama," Colonel Tigh said warily as his eyes focused on the
entryway to the Bridge.  "I think we have a problem on our hands."
     The commander turned around and saw the white-robed forms of Sires
Domra and Geller approaching.
     "Great," he grunted disapprovingly, "With them, it's always an
instant guarantee of a headache.
     "Do you want me to----" 
     "No," Adama cut him off, "I might as well indulge them. At least for
the centon."  He handed his data pad over to the executive officer, and
made his way to the bridge wing, indicating with a gesture that he'd talk
with them there.
      When he met them, he decided to show all the deference and courtesy
he could summon. "Is there something I can do for you, gentlemen?" he
asked, as sweetly smooth as a bowl of Virgon honey. "As you can see,
we're quite..."
     "I understand that we're approaching a potentially habitable planet,
Adama," said Domra, his face lined in that almost perpetual scowl.
     "As a matter of fact, yes," said Adama, wondering why this subject
was suddenly of interest to them. "One of our pilots crashed there, and
we've dispatched a rescue shuttle."
     "Have you evaluated this planet for settlement potential?" This from
Geller, his voice tinged with an accusatory scorn. 
     "It has only just come into scanner range, Sire Geller," replied
Adama, fudging the truth a little. "We still know very little about it."
     "Indeed," said Domra. "My sources indicate that it's quite
commodious, as per Humans, Adama."
     "Our data at present is only perfunctory, Sire Domra. And even if we
had more, why would the subject of settlement be an issue?"
     "Why not?"  Domra shot back. "We're reaching a stage in the journey
where the idea can at least be broached as a subject for legitimate
debate, can it not?"
     "I believe that is something that would be better discussed at the
next Council session, Sire Domra." Already Adama felt his patience
wearing thin with the two Councilors. It almost seemed as if they had
deliberately chosen to confront him for the sake of making trouble,
rather then pressing any legitimate argument.
     "And given your usual alacrity when it comes to convening a session,
Adama, by then it might be too late!" Geller snorted with disgust.
"That's why we could at least be given the courtesy of the relevant
information, now."
     "Sire Geller, this is really not the time," Adama replied, massaging
the bridge of his nose, fighting the headache he felt coming. As he
spoke, Adama's gaze wandered over their shoulders and he saw Sire Antipas
entering. The young Sire seemed slightly alarmed as he made his way over
quickly to where the other three were conversing.
     "Excuse me," Antipas was slightly out of breath, "Adama, would you
mind if I could talk privately with our colleagues?"
     "By all means," Adama was surprised that Antipas wasn't adding his
voice to the argument. "As things are, I'm really preoccupied with other
more important matters just now."
     "I'm sure you are, Adama," Antipas bowed with uncharacteristic
cordiality and then shot a cold glance at the two older Council members,
who were equally befuddled by his attitude.
 
     Once the three Council members were off the bridge and alone in the
corridor, Antipas looked both ways, then turned on them with a look of
cold fury.
     "What are you two doing?" He had the tone of a schoolmaster
lecturing a disobedient pupil.
     "Raising a legitimate issue with him!" Geller protested, "I
thought----"
     "You thought?" Antipas drew to within a centimetron of him, his
voice dripping with sarcasm. "Was the subject by any chance
colonization?"
     "Of course!" Domra said, baffled. "We are..."
     "You are both fools!" Antipas allowed his fury to rise. "This is
hardly the time for those of us who have problems with Adama's capacity
to lead to undercut our credibility by making imbecilic suggestions!"
     "Imbecilic?" Domra's eyes widened, taken aback at his younger
colleague's lack of respect. "How is it imbecilic to raise questions
about this infernal policy of journeying only to one distant planet?"
     "Because we are not ready to consider colonization," Antipas pointed
his finger to emphasize his point.  "Adama and his lackeys have the
perfect argument to shoot that down, and that's the simple fact that it's
been too soon since our last battle with the Cylons. We can not push a
colonization now argument until enough time has elapsed to give the
people a sense of security that any place they settle would be safe! 
Until that happens, raising that objection with Adama is nothing more
then picking a fight with him for the sake of it, and if we do that, then
we will have no credibility whatsoever to challenge him further down the
line."
     The forcefulness of his tone and the logic of his argument had an
intimidating effect on the two older Council members. With awkward,
embarrassed expressions, they silently nodded and moved off.
 
     "Athena!" shouted Boomer, as the echo of her cry reverberated in the
darkness. He sped forward, through the ancient corroded doors, and shone
his light around. Lords, no! "Ath..."
     "I'm okay, Boomer," she replied, picking herself up, her uniform
smeared with wet mud. "I guess I should be more careful where I put my
feet."
     "Don't do that to me, okay?" said Boomer, letting out a long breath,
and extending an arm to help her steady herself. "I have a weak heart,
remember."
     "Couldn't prove it by me," she retorted with an impish smile, all
the more welcome for being so out of place, and following it up with a
kiss. 
     "Well just be more careful, alright? Anything happens to you, and
Apollo and the Commander will have my head for a wall decoration." He
hefted his lamp, and took in their new surroundings. Water seeping
through from above had worn an irregular depression in the concrete
floor, and mud and water washing in from outside had collected in it,
creating a slimy trap just waiting for the unwary foot.  
     "And a very fine one it would make, too," she chuckled, and they
moved on, deeper into the man made cavern. Within a few more steps, the
floor leveled out, and they could begin to make out more of their
surroundings as their eyes adjusted to the gloom. A rusted-out vehicle, a
little smaller than a standard hovermobile, sat next to one wall, its
last driver still inside. They moved closer, and saw that, like the first
skeleton, this one was still wearing scraps of what was obviously a
uniform of some kind. Blue and orange in color, it had been sewn with
patches, none of them now readable. The dead man still had a rusty helmet
atop his skull, and had worn a sidearm, which Boomer gingerly tried to
remove it from the rotted holster.
     "Boomer?"
     "Solid projectile weapon," he said, after a few moments examination.
It superficially resembled the early laser pistols from the Colonies, but
had been far more primitive. "It fired...uhhh, bullets, I think they were
called. Similar to a pnumo, but with more velocity."
     "Bullets? Sounds primitive."
     "Yeah, they were. Lead or other metal projectiles, fired from a
cartridge by a chemical explosion. Crude, but one of those will blow your
head off at close range just as effectively as a laser blast." He set the
rusty weapon back inside the old vehicle, and they moved on. "Poor guy
must have been caught in the heat or radiation blast from the explosion.
I wonder why the blast doors weren't closed?" Looking around, they could
see more conduit and cable trunks lining the walls of the installation,
some of which had shaken loose, which now seemed to have as much native
stone as concrete in its construction. It was also, they both noticed,
gradually becoming drier, the deeper they went into the facility. Before
long, the musty, moldering smell had faded, and the air became gradually
more stale.  
     "Maybe they had their very own Baltar," said Athena, sidestepping
yet another skeleton on the floor.
     "That's a happy thought," said Boomer. 
     Continuing on, they at last came to another set of blast doors, and
unlike the earlier pair these were shut tight. Athena's scanner showed
that the labyrinth continued on beyond the sealed portal, but getting
inside seemed impossible. 
     "But we have to," said Boomer. "Data on the Thirteenth Tribe."  
     "Given what we've seen so far, do you think any information has
survived whatever happened to this civilization?"
     "I am going to have to assume so, until I know otherwise." Hand on
one hip, the other holding the lamp high, Boomer searched every micron of
the door's surface for an indication of how they might get in. But, aside
from some scorch marks, and patches of rust, the ancient defenses seemed
as solid as the day they were installed. He drew his laser, and fired
point blank into the steel. Besides a deep burn mark, the door seemed to
shrug it off. He swore softly, then muttered, "Ah!"
     "Got something?"
     "Maybe, Athena. Here." He indicated a panel, no larger than her
Languatron, set into the door opposite of the massive hinges. He scanned
it, and smiled. "Some things, Athena, are constant throughout the
universe. All hovermobiles have the same basic ignition systems, all
Cylon bases are laid out in exactly the same way regardless of how many
times we blew them up, and Human beings will always think in predictable
ways." He showed her his discovery.
     "Access?"
     "Yep. When you think about it, designing this thing to permit access
once closed is kind of like handing the Mob the keys to the Colonial
Central Bank. Still, there we are." Drawing his weapon again, he fired
once more, then twice, blowing a metal plate loose. Firing yet again, it
fell away, to reveal a complex set of circuits within. "When I was posted
to the garrison on Ice Station Thule, I noticed that some of the blast
doors had override circuits, sealed behind panels disguised to look like
the rest of the door. I always thought it was extremely dumb to put them
at floor level where they could be found by any potential enemy so
easily, but then they didn't pay me to design blast doors."
     "And after playing Pyramid with Starbuck, you broke anyway. Can you
open it?"
     "Oh ha ha! With power, maybe." He reached into their satchel, and
fished out a spare battery for the lantern. After studying the old
circuits a moment, he tried bridging the power cell to the ancient
system. 
     "No luck?"
     "Not that time. Maybe..." As if on cue, a light flashed from inside
the circuit box, then others. They continued to flash in a repeating
pattern, and Boomer tried one of the switches inside. Nothing. Nothing.
Noth...
     With a sudden grinding sound, the door actually lurched, the noise
seeming to boom in the deathly quiet cavern. While Boomer had been
working, Athena couldn't help but think about the dead people they had
found. For a few centons, she had the creepy feeling that they were
watching her. That their long-empty sockets were following her every
move. She started at the noise, biting her lips, feeling foolish, and
mightily glad Boomer couldn't see her face right now.
     "Thought so," he muttered, nearly oblivious to all else. His fingers
continued to move inside the old circuits, and the door moved once more.
Slowly, noisily, it began to move, turning on its ancient hinge for the
first time in who knew how many centuries. 
     "You've done it!" Athena cheered, stepping back as the door
continued to open. 
     Then it stopped.
     "What happened?"
     "Battery. Just that much drained it."
     "Any more?"
     "Not enough at this pace. We're lucky it moved at all." He put the
dead battery back in the satchel, and moved towards the new opening. It
was slight, not much wider than he was, but enough for a person to slide
between. He sniffed the air wafting out of the opening. Stale and dead.
Well, nothing for it.
     "Ready?" she asked.
     "Let's go." 

       Chapter 21

     "Captain," called Grumio, from the pilot's seat of the shuttle.
There was no immediate answer, so he raised his voice. "Captain Apollo,
sir?"
     "Wha...what?" said Apollo, snapping awake, in one of the seats next
to Cassie. He rose, Starbuck still snoring softly in his own seat, and
headed forward. "You have something, Cadet?"
     "The planet will be in visual range in just under two centons, sir,"
replied the cadet, adjusting the scanners. Without a word, Apollo
gestured him out of the pilot's seat, replacing him. Grumio moved over to
the co-pilot's station. Apollo looked up at the main viewport, saw only
stars for the moment, then back at the instruments.
     "Our fuel is almost a full percent lower than predicted, Cadet," he
said, rubbing his eyes.
     "Yes, sir. I had to maneuver around a large cluster of asteroids.
That, and there's still a leak, albeit a small one."
     "Yeah. I see it." Apollo looked back up, and saw the planet come at
long last into visual range. It was still smaller than a pea held at
arm's length, but at least they were almost there. He checked the
communit once more, and the transponder signals were still hot. He keyed
the mic.
     "Galactica shuttle to Viper patrol. Come in." Static. "Lieutenant
Boomer, this is Captain Apollo, come in." Hiss. "I don't think...What the
Hades was that?" A crackly voice was coming out of the speaker, but it
wasn't any of the missing pilots.
     "I don't think that was Lieutenant Boomer, sir," said Grumio. "In
fact, that wasn't like any language I ever heard." 
     "Me either." Apollo looked up at the planet again, now ever so
slightly larger. He didn't like this. Didn't like it at all. "Go wake up
Starbuck, Cadet."
     "Sir."
  
     The echoy sound of their footfalls gave Athena the impression of
being in a cathedral. She was reminded fleetingly, of visiting one, as a
little girl, when her mother took her on a visit to her hometown of
Thisbe, to visit her grandparents. The vast soaring roof, the exaggerated
sound of her footfalls on the stone floor, the sense of awe it all had
given her, came rushing back like a river in spate. Unlike that place,
however, this stygian cavern emanated no aura of holiness. The air was
stale, and tastes of rust and decay, and from the glints of light
reflecting from their lamps, was filled with mysteries of a more tangible
sort than a house of worship.
     "Crates," said Boomer, moving his lamp close to a pile of shadowy
objects. "Can't read the markings on them."
     "They look perfectly intact," she replied. "There doesn't seem to be
near the water damage in here that there was in the outer chambers."
     "Those blast doors were shut when the bombs hit is why," Boomer
replied. "All this was shielded."
     "I wonder if there were any more people down here."
     "Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact," he answered, pointing his lantern
at the remains of a former resident. This one was seated, still at his
long-forgotten post, before a bank of silent instruments. Athena stifled
a small cry. The sight of rotted bones was still very unsettling to her.
She forced herself to look, however. The uniform this one wore was more
intact, and was unquestionably of a military cut. It reminded her of the
outfits worn by fighter pilots in the early days of the war with the
Cylons, which she had seen in school. A full-body jumpsuit, of a dull
greenish color, with various patches sewn onto it. Like all the rest of
the writing in here, she could read none of it. She scanned it into her
instrument, for later analysis.
     Along with the hole in the side of the skull.
     "I'm picking up that radiation trace, Athena. Stronger now."
     "Harmful?"
     "No. It would take yahrens to get enough to even expose an
old-fashioned medical scan plate. And it doesn't look like residual from
the bombs, either."
     "A power system of some sort?"
     "Yeah, maybe." He scanned some more. "In fact, I'll say yes." He
leaned over the dark control panel, scanning the long-dead instruments.
While they could not read the words, the layout was fairly plain. And, as
Boomer often said, 'if Humans designed it, it will follow certain
predictable patterns of construction.'
     "You think you can actually get some power, Boomer?"
     "Won't know until I try, Athena." He sat down, next to the skeleton
in an unoccupied chair. Surprisingly, the cushion had retained its give,
and the seat was actually comfortable. He blew away centuries of dust,
and tried a few buttons. Aside from the clicks, there was no response. He
hhmm'd a few times, then took a tool from his kit.
     "Got an idea?"
     "Yeah. Can you fish me out that other battery pack?"
  
     "Orbit attitude," said Starbuck, as the planet loomed in the
shuttles forward windows. "Altitude...350. We will pass over the
transmission site in 35 centons, Apollo." 
 
     Barely able to stand, yet having no other choice, Cadet Oswy, his
arm around Kudur-Mabug, led the young hunter into the opening in the back
of the cave. "Come on!" he cried, to Pili and several of the other
primitives. He called again, raising his voice to be heard amid the
screams and shouts, and fired his pistol towards the cave opening once
more.


     "Ah!" said Boomer, as something on the panel in front of him came to
flickering life. As with the door, he had found an access panel and
removed it, searching the mass of wiring within. After a few centons, he
seemed to find what he was looking for, and connected one of the spare
power cells into the ancient machinery. At once, a light on the ancient
console blinked, and several buttons began to glow. Looking back and
forth from his scanner to the panel, he pressed a few, scanned some more,
then pressed again. 
     "Won't this one drain before we get anywhere, too?" asked Athena.
     "The other one had to power huge motors, Athena. That takes major
amps, and I think the pack may have been defective besides. This, at
least I'm betting, won't draw that kind of current. At least not at
first." As he spoke, a small screen came to weak life, showing only snow.
Patiently, Boomer clipped another battery pack into his setup, and it
became brighter, joined by the faint hiss of a speaker somewhere.
"Yes! Yes!"
     "What?"
     "There is a power plant down here, Athena. This is it. See?" He
pointed out a flickering schematic on the screen before them. "That's the
source of the radiation I'll wager." He clicked a button, then another.
"If we can give it enough juice to kickstart some kind of cycle..."
 
     "Transmission site in two centons," announced Starbuck. Again, he
hailed, but there was no response. The previous voice contact had been
broken off, as had the signal. The transponder beacons, however, were
still active.
     "Prepare for landing," ordered Apollo.
     "Our fuel?" asked Cassie.
     "The computer's given us the best landing vectors. We'll make it
down there."
     "And then? What about getting back into orbit?" she asked.
     "Atmospheric entry in one centon," said Apollo.
 
     "What the Hades was that?" asked Athena, as a loud, sharp whine cut
the blackness. Instead of answering at once, Boomer pressed another
button. The same noise hit them again, only this time it was followed by
another, then, slowly, yet another. Bang. Bangg. Banngggg...
     "Oh yeah!" said Boomer. "Mother of Kobol, don't croak on me now...."
He pressed the control again, and the bangs began to blur, into a
continuous string of sound. After a few microns, Athena recognized it for
what it was.
     "An energizer," she said, watching the lights on the console. A new
one had come to life, and was blinking rapidly. Off in the gloom, the
sound of the ancient machine was growing louder, more continuous, and
after a few more microns, and a few more buttons...
     "Let there be light!" said Boomer, as somewhere, light began to pour
from the long-derelict equipment. At first it was trifling, but as the
whine of the generator grew, so did the lights. As the lights awakened,
so did more of the instrument panels. To the right and left of them,
lights blinked, screens flickered to life, and long-silent speakers began
pouring forth sound.
     Getting up, Boomer moved to another console, and scanned it, then
turned. Along one stone wall was a row of old-fashioned generators, being
fed by pumps from tanks buried in the floor. Somehow, all the centuries
of dark silence had not rendered them useless. He walked along the row of
huge, antique machinery, scanning and familiarizing himself with the
surprisingly pristine equipment. 
     "Definitely pre-Sixth Millennium," he announced, having to raise his
voice somewhat to be heard over the huge turbines. "I don't understand
how it could even still be useable, but these energizers are being
powered by some kind of petrochemical fuel, Athena."
     "Not nuclear?"
     "Not this. That rad source must be elsewhere. This is even more
antiquated."
     "Well, as long as it works," she replied, glad of the light. The
ceiling was lined with fixtures, some of which had it seemed not survived
the long sleep. She looked around, as Boomer tried to bring another of
the ancient power units on line. He turned as she called to him.
     "What have you got there?' he asked. She was standing over a stack of
crates, one open. Inside were neatly stowed weapons, as antiquated as the
rest of the place. Boomer hefted one. It was a bit longer than the
standard Colonial rifle, and was totally mechanical. He looked it over,
and slid one of the magazines into place.
     "What are you doing, Boomer?"
     "Just wondering..." he said, as he pulled the trigger. A loud burst
of noise and flame belched from the muzzle, and chunks of stone flew from
the far wall.
     "Better leave that alone," he said, dropping it.
     "Yeah," she seconded. "Please don't blow my head off." She wandered
back to the consoles. The skeleton was one of three. The one they had
seen earlier had been murdered, that was obvious. The hole in his skull,
one hand near his sidearm, and the stains on his panel, testified as
much. The second, on the floor, also had a hole and stains in its chest,
and the third showed a massive injury to the front of the skull,
manifestly self-inflicted if the pistol still held in the bony hand was
any indication. Towards the end, she mused, the last few must have taken
refuge here, and it must have come down to madness.
     She looked away, deciding that searching for useable information was
more productive. She stopped at what was obviously a computer, and tried
to make sense of it. It had a keyboard similar to her own station on the
Galactica's bridge, but the letters were totally unfamiliar. She touched
one, and got a bleep in response. About to try again, she turned as
Boomer called her.
     "Look," he said, pointing to a monitor screen, a small black and
white one. She did so, and her eyes widened. On the screen, apparently in
another chamber, was the image of some sort of space craft.

       Chapter 22

     "Apollo, look at this," said Starbuck, eyes to scanners.
     "What the...that's not Colonial. The energy signature is different
from our systems."
     "Right. And it just started, not five centons ago. Some kind of
artificial power generation system coming on line down there."
     "On this planet?" Apollo looked over the scans again. "Everything
here's been pulverized. Blasted centuries ago. How..."
     "I don't know, but somebody's generating at least ten thousand
kilons of power down there, and maybe even more.  And it's practically on
top of where the commsignal's emanating from."
     "Anything more on that channel?"
     "Deader than last night's ambrosia."
     "Okay. Set us down near the Viper transponder signals. No sense
landing right on top of something we don't know anything about. I'll wake
the rest up."
     "Right-o."
  
     "This is incredible," said Boomer, studying the data on the panels
before him. "An undamaged spacecraft, just sitting there after all this
time."
     "You can read that stuff?"
     "Not the letters, but engineering schematics and flowcharts tend to
be pretty standardized in every technological civilization we've ever
encountered, Athena. The fuel may be different, but the schematics for
that power plant aren't as different as you might think from the one on
those old buckets like the Lyra, or the Spica."
     Athena smiled faintly, "Maybe you should have opted for Engineering
School after basic."
     "Funny you should mention that."   Boomer chuckled, "I meant to. I
even applied."
     "Really?" she hadn't expected to hear that.  "What happened? Did you
change your mind?"  
     Boomer grimaced slightly, "It's not a pleasant story, actually,
but....if you want to hear it."
     "Sure," Athena nodded, "I really want to know."
     "Well, let me put it this way.  The Colonial Engineering School, at
least at the time I considered going there was run by a guy named
Bedford, a former Commander of Engineers actually. He was a decorated war
hero in fact. As a young man, he was badly wounded, but took command of
the badly damaged Pacifica, and brought her home after the battle of the
Cyrannis March. However, he had a dark secret, it turned out." He watched
as Athena raised an eyebrow in question. "He was a man who had a rather
strange dislike for people who didn't have a skin color identical to his
own."
     Athena's brow knotted in disbelief, "Run that by me again?"
     "You heard me," Boomer sighed, "Good old Bedford, the guy who
thought people born with dark skin color were somehow genetically
inferior. Turned out he was a closet member of the Society for Caprican
Purity, the biggest hate group in all the Colonies. Of course that wasn't
known at the time, Bedford didn't exactly publish ads in the Academy
newspaper, but still, every buddy of mine I talked to warned me about his
sick attitude. My grandfather moved to Caprica, to work in construction,
so we weren't really Caprican you see. It took me only ten microns to
realize that my application was going to get all the attention of
turbo-flush paper, so I decided that sticking to warrior training and
flight duty meant I could at least guarantee being with people with a
color-blind attitude."
     "That's incredible," Athena was shaking her head, "That anyone could
be like that."
     "Yeah. It is. Decorated war hero is racist Boray! But believe me
Athena, he wasn't the only kind of person in the Colonies with attitudes
like that. I remember hearing rumors that the Society was even connected
with Baltar somehow. It's one of those sad facts of life."
     "Bal...but Baltar was Pisceran, wasn't he?"
     "Predominantly, but who knows why Baltar did anything? Maybe he just
liked fomenting hate, but the Society sure had lots of money." Boomer
sighed loudly. "Thank the Lords that kind of rot was left behind us."  
     "It makes no sense," an edge of distaste entered her voice, "No one
should even think of those things.  Humans can be different, but
ultimately we're all Human. That's all that matters."
     "I'm glad you feel that way," He paused for a half centon. "Of
course keep in mind that if Bedford hadn't been such a bigot, I might
have gone to Engineering School and never became a pilot.  And
then....well, I certainly wouldn't have been assigned to the
Galactica..... or met you for that matter."
     Athena didn't answer at once, still unsure of her own feelings. She
loved him, there was no longer any doubt in her mind about that. But
where did they go from here? Did he truly feel the same about her? Or
would he ultimately turn out to be another Starbuck? What if...
     She finally shook her head and decided that this was too much
dangerous ground to consider and was also distracting them at a critical
time.
     "You know what this looks like?" she changed the subject.  "An
old-fashioned launch facility.  Like what we saw in school. Back when
everything was chemical rockets and disposable booster vehicles."
     "Yeah."  Boomer only allowed himself a brief wry smile at how she'd
changed the subject. He'd clearly touched something within her, and what
it meant for the future could only wait for another time. "Incredibly
wasteful. It could take huge rockets on launch pads and hundreds of tons
of volatile fuels costing millions of cubits just to get a small manned
capsule into orbit. Then you had to deadstick it on re-entry. It was like
trying to fly an anvil, and the vehicles weren't even reusable." He shook
his head. "Things are a bit cheaper nowadays."
     "Were," she reminded him. He grunted in assent, and returned to the
machinery. While the Languatron was helping, it would still require the
Galactica's mainframe to really make sense of this language. Even so,
both were now able to make out certain words with some facility, chiefly
due to their repetition. "It looks like an early VTOL shuttle," she
observed. "Similar to the old Eagle class."
     "Yeah. The sort of thing the Colonies used to fly, right before
re-establishing face-to-face contact with each other."  He stopped and
frowned as something popped into his head.
     "Something bothering you?"
     "Not really," he shook his head, "I just had one of those centons
where I feel like I've gone through something before and I can't put my
finger on it. Anyway, it's possible this baby might still be in pretty
good shape."
     "You think it's still operational?"
     "Well, a lot of this old stuff was. Why not? And if I'm reading this
right, the radiation source is inside that hangar. She may use some sort
of radioactive fuel source. In any case, we need to take a look at it.
Whatever she has for a navigational computer must be loaded with
astrogation software, and charts. Data on this area of space."
     "It's not an interstellar craft, surely?"
     "Doubtful, but remember, our astronomers compiled millions of
pictures and radio scans of the galaxy, long before we rediscovered
spaceflight, Athena. All the way back to the old glass photographic
plates."
     "Talk about something out of the Stone Age!"
     "Nope. That's these folks," he chuckled. "But we need to get into
this machinery, and extract whatever data we can." He ran the Languatron
over the computer station again, and growled in frustration. "The
processor in this thing just isn't up to it, Athena. We need more." He
began examining the sealed door into the next area, presumably the hangar
where the ancient spacecraft sat.
     "Yeah. Okay Boomer, you keep at it. I'm heading back up, to check on
Oswy, and try and reach the Galactica again."  She left the old dusty
station, and headed towards the blast doors.
     "Alright." he was still buried in the consoles, when he saw it. "Oh
mong!  And it's still operational? Athena? I..." he yelled, whirling
around, forgetting his bruised and battered muscles for a moment, and
drew his weapon. "What the Hades Hole is that?"
     "Someone's coming."
     "Oswy?"
     "Try about twenty," she told him, scanning back up the way they'd
come.
     "Oh frack!"
 
       Chapter 23

     "There, Apollo," said Starbuck, pointing. Directly ahead, they could
see the blackened rocky outcrop that had spelled the end of Boomer's
Viper. The burned grass and trees around it stood out in sharp contrast
to the still-green vegetation beyond. "You don't think..."
     "No. The homing beacons are ahead; nothing's coming from this
wreck." He looked from the port to the instruments. "Coming up on the
other Vipers. Thirty microns."
     "Life signs?" asked Cassie, hands gripping the back of Starbuck's
seat.
     "Nothing Human yet, Cassie," replied Apollo. "There." Directly
ahead, the Vipers still stood, just inside the forest edge, covered with
the camouflage tarps. The homing signal was pegging the dial, and Apollo
turned off the speaker. He slowed, maneuvered around the area, and set
the shuttle down right behind the fighters. As the engines powered down,
he reached up and opened the intake valve for the atmospheric tests.
After a centon or so, it flashed green. "The air's totally compatible.
Nothing on the bacteria scans."
     "Well what are we waiting for?" said Starbuck, out of his seat
before the engine noise had even died away. "Let's..."
     "What the frack was that??!" shouted Cassie, as something big and
dark swooped low over the shuttle with a whoosh.  Apollo looked, then
checked the scanners. He swore, and ordered Grumio to check out the
Landram. They all looked out the ports again, heard the keening screech,
and saw the huge leathery wing pass over them once more.  
 
     "It's a countdown!" said Boomer, as the whole thing sank in. One
panel, atop which was a row of lighted characters, was slowly changing,
starting at one end. Most of the characters were the same, and remained
so, while those at the other end of the row were changing, one by one. It
was so old fashioned, so mind-numbingly primitive, that he hadn't seen it
at first for what it was. He kicked himself for being such a fool.
     "A what?"
     "A countdown, Athena. A launch countdown. If I'm reading this
indicator right, there's an operational weapon somewhere beyond that
door!" He pointed towards the still-sealed hatch into the next chamber.
     "What sort?" She watched as he punched another control. Above the
bank of instruments, heavy metal panels slowly slid back to reveal what
was in the next chamber. For a few microns, they both stared, goggle-eyed
at what lay beyond the thick glass.
     "Uhh, how about a thermonuclear warhead, and the computer's counting
down?"
     "Can you stop it?" She turned before he could answer, distracted by
the growing noise from the tunnel behind them. Shouts and the sounds of
laser pistol fire were growing louder by the micron, and she moved
closer...
     Just as Cadet Oswy stumbled through the opening, an arrow piercing
his left arm. He was supported by Kudur-Mabug, himself apparently
wounded, and Pili was with them. She held a knife, stained with blood,
and stopped, face a mask of shock, at the sight of the huge control
chamber and all its bizarre wonders.
 
     "Colonel," said Rigel, on the bridge of the Galactica. "Shuttle
report, sir."
     "Yes?"
     "Long range scanners indicates the shuttle has reached the planet
where Lieutenant Boomer was forced down, sir."
     "Anything from Captain Apollo?" He watched as she checked her
instruments.
     "We won't be in voice communications range for another fifty-nine
centons, sir."
     "The marker beacons?"
     "Still transmitting, sir. No change."
     "I see. Thank-you, Rigel. Inform me the moment we enter voice
range."
     "Yes sir, Colonel."
     "Helm steady as she goes."
     "Helm steady aye," replied Omega.
 
     "Lieu..." Oswy tried to say, but he collapsed to the floor, his body
racked by deep, rattling coughs. She rushed to his side, and helped Pili
turn him over. He was barely conscious, and the pistol was slipping from
his grip. She gently as she could pulled the arrow from his arm, thankful
it had not gone any deeper, and reached for her canteen, pressing it to
his bloody lips. As he tried to drink, there was a loud cry from
Kudur-Mabug, and she looked up, then from him towards the blast door.
Just in time to see a spear sailing directly for her head.
     
       Chapter 24

     Apollo watched, choking back a reproof, as Starbuck slid into the
driver's seat of the Landram. It had checked out one hundred percent
(Adama had issued a standing order that they be inspected and maintained
on a sectonly basis), and was ready to go. Inwardly, the Captain
permitted himself a smile at his junior colleague. Starbuck's anxiousness
to find Boomer was as obvious as that of a new cadet, and he wasn't at
all shy about showing it.
     "Engines up," reported Starbuck, flipping switches as Apollo seated
himself next to him. They listened to the sound of the engine whine rise
in pitch. "Powering up the weapons systems, scanners on line." The dash
scope came to life. He touched a control, and the aft hatch on the
shuttle slid open, and they lurched forward. "Cadet Grumio."
     "Sir."
     "Get up to the gun tub, and keep your eyes peeled. If you see
another of those dragon things..."
     "Understood, sir." Grumio rose, and climbed the ladder to the top of
the machine. Starbuck tore up the turf, heading towards the camouflaged
Vipers, all the while eyeing the scanners in front of him.
     "Any sign of that thing?" asked Cassie, leaning over to peer out the
window.
     "It's close by," said Apollo. "Let's hope a metal ground vehicle
doesn't appeal to it."
     "Amen to that," muttered the Medtech.

     In a blur, Athena ducked. To her regret, it wasn't blur enough. She
felt a burning pain along her scalp as the primitive weapon only just
missed ripping through her throat. With a cry of pain, she fell back,
hitting the ancient concrete with a slap. 
     "Ath...you fracking piece of daggit..."snarled Boomer, his pistol at
once drawn. As soon as Athena was down, one of the natives entered the
room, only this was not one of the clan that had saved him. This man was
clad like the attackers of a few nights previously, in leather jerkin,
leggings, and wearing a crude helmet. He stopped abruptly, obviously
taken back by the myriad wonders within the ancient facility. He was
blinking, as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden brightness of the
lights, but after a few moments, he saw Athena, and with a smile of
cruelly, drew his sword.
     His smile quickly transformed into a rictus of agony, as Boomer
fired at him, shearing off his weapon, quickly followed by another that
shredded the hand that once had wielded it. As the invader buckled
screaming to the floor, another entered. He was no more observant than
his predecessor, and as quickly rendered impotent.
     "Athena!" he cried, at once at her side. She was semi-conscious, and
he cradled her head, her hair matted with blood. Pili and her man were
babbling away, but he scarcely heard a word they said. From the sounds in
the passage, more of the attackers were coming their way, and...
     "Sir...we were surprised..." rasped Oswy, trying to focus on his
superior officer, who moved to help him. "I...I was trying to contact
the...the Galactica again, and suddenly they were on us, sir." He broke
off, coughing. "They took...took the women...babies...I tried to get the
rest to cover, in the tunnel, sir..." He descended into hacking again,
this time pink foam on his lips making it clear he didn't have a lot of
time left, unless they could get him some serious medical care. Boomer
dared a quick pass with the scanner. Broken rib, punctured lung. Athena
wasn't badly hurt, it just looked worse than it...
     He raised and fired again, as an unfriendly face dared to show
itself around the corner of the open blast door.
     The eruption of sparks and molten metal bits seemed sufficient to
keep its owner at bay for the moment. Looking for something to help his
charges with, Boomer noticed one of the old crates of supplies the place
had been stocked with. He was about to check on their contents, when he
turned to Kudur-Mabug...
     "Oh God," said Boomer, more to himself than to the other.
Kudur-Mabug had taken his flint knife, and slit the throats of the fallen
intruders. Boomer had had no real plan on dealing with them, and while he
found the hunter's actions morally abhorrent, he realized that he wasn't
on firm ground trying to intervene with the local way of doing things.
Still, the sight of a primitive man, slicing the necks of other men... he
turned away in disgust for a moment, a fugue broken only by the sound of
yet more intruders, these gathering in the tunnel outside the bunker.
     He rose, heading for the controls, trying to find a way to close the
damn doors.

     Had he been driving on the public streets back home, Starbuck would
have gotten at least five tickets for reckless driving. At the Academy,
he would have probably ended up in stockade for a secton for the way he
drove the landram. But right now he flat didn't give a damn. This close
to his friend, he was letting it all out.
     He dodged left, to avoid a huge rock in their path. The forest was
full of trails, both animal and Human, and he was following one, though
it was barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, let alone a powered
vehicle. Then, he nearly brodied the machine to the right.
     "Starbuck!" cried Apollo, trying to keep his seat. "Take it easy!"
He looked at Starbuck, eyes fixed, breathing fast, sweat dripping off his
brow. Rarely had he ever seen his friend this focused.
     "Tell that to the flying blowtorch out there!" he retorted. Almost
as soon as the Landram had begun moving, there had been a shriek from
high above them. It had, even through the hull of the vehicle, made one
think of the cries of tormented souls in the Underworld. The dragon had
swooped down, right at the level of the treetops, and let loose with a
blast of flame, as precise as any Viper, setting trees and grass alight.
Starbuck had barely missed it, and Grumio had sent several volleys of
laser fire screaming back in return. He hadn't hit it yet, but it had
seared close to the dragon's face, and it had swerved violently away.
     For the moment. After a short breather, it was back, apparently
angered at this bizarre thing that had hurt it. It swooped low again,
screeching like ripping metal, and setting a huge swath of forest alight,
before screaming past.
     Grumio fired, singing its tail, but no more. He was slammed into the
side of the gun tub as the Landram swerved again.
     Where in Hades did Starbuck learn to drive???
     "Human life signs on the scanner," said Apollo, getting a fix on the
site of the cave. "Several dozen."
     "Anything more on the voice channel?" asked Cassie and Starbuck in
perfect unison.
     Lords, that's scary, thought Apollo.
     "Nothing," he replied. "Voice channel is still dead."
     "Frack!" shouted Starbuck, as the forest ahead turned into a sheet
of fire. He braked, and swerved hard over, unintentionally giving his
gunner a perfect shot. A bolt from the gun tub hit the dragon in the left
wing, right where the a claw, resembling fingers, extended from the
membrane. With a scream of agony, the prehistoric beast swerved away,
leaving the unfamiliar prey alone to itself. For now.
     "It's off the scanner," said Apollo, checking. The dragon was gone,
and Starbuck's driving settled down to paroxysmal. "We're clear to the
Human signs."
     "Any signs of those power readings?"
     "Yeah. Hot like a laser. Whatever's generating it is getting
closer."
     "But what could be generating so much power on this planet?"
wondered Cassie aloud. "There isn't any civilization left, is there?"

     Boomer tried a control. Nothing. Another, and a siren began to
blare. A third...
     A third and the blast doors slowly, noisily began to close. Yeah,
baby! Go! Another of the intruders tried to squeeze through, and he
fired, hitting the primitive in the head. He fell, amidst an explosion of
gore, and was trampled by yet another trying to force his way in. Boomer
fired again...
     And missed. Instead of the attacker, he hit the door. There was a
huge blast of sparks and noise, which did two things. One, it killed the
intruder. Second, the door stopped moving. Cursing, Boomer checked the
controls.
     Red lights across the board. In fighting off their attackers, he had
effectively killed the door.
     "Oh fracking felcercarb!!!"
     
     "I don't know," said Apollo, looking ahead. The muddy forest trail
was now widening a bit, into something one could almost call a clearing,
and Starbuck slowed, to ford a rocky stream. Before he could speed up..
     "Frack!"
     The clearing was full of raptons, mouths wide. 

       Chapter 25

     Boomer swore again, as more sparks belched from the ancient blast
door. His laser had drilled through the old steel, proof against the
equally ancient bullets but not Colonial lasers, and totally destroyed
what remained of the door's inner control circuitry. It would take a
miracle from God, or at least a total refit, to get that door moving
again. As the acrid smoke began to lift a bit, he could see the corpses
of the intruders he had shot down. He frantically looked around for
something...
     A crate! Several of the crates he and Athena had found were setting
on roller carriages. If the wheels were still any good... He shoved one,
and, thanks to the Lords of Kobol!!! it moved. With all the strength his
pain permitted him, he pushed it towards the opening, blocking it.
     With the entrance momentarily safe, he turned back to Athena and
Oswy. With her face and hair a splash of blood, looking at Athena made
his stomach heave. But, she was moving. He sent up a silent prayer of
thanks, and helped her to her feet.
     "Boomer, I..."
     "We have to find a way out of here, Athena! The only way is through
that door!" He pointed to the hatch into the next chamber.
     "The Languatron..."
     "Could take centars. We need to get the frack outta here yesterday!"
     Athena wiped the gummy hair out of her eyes, and tried to focus on
the machinery. She had to resist the temptation to constantly turn and
look at the momentarily blocked door.
     Work the computer! Don't look at the door! Don't look at the door!
Work the computer. Don't look at the door...
     You looked at the door!
     "I think..."she pressed several controls. One thankfully killed the
blaring klaxon, the second did nothing noticeable. Then, the hatch began
to open...
     And quit. There was a whiff of smoke, and a red light. "Damned motor
burned out!" she snarled. "Frack it!" she cried, and pointed a laser at
it. She fired again and again, until the savaged metal slab fell off its
slagged hinges, crashing to the floor with a loud clang
     "Remind me never to make you mad," said Boomer, and moved towards
the newly opened aperture.
  
     Before Apollo could utter a word, they heard the thrum of the gun
atop their vehicle, and saw bolts of angry red energy lance out across
the space between the Landram and the nearest slavering rapton. In an eye
blink, the reptilian predator blew into a hundred charred chunks, then
the one nearest it. 
     "Damn good shooting!" said Apollo.
     "Hold on!" cried Starbuck, and gunned the vehicle. Cassie nearly
lost her footing as they lurched ahead, and Apollo could see one of
Grumio's shots go wild, and hear his curses, over the noise of the
engine. As he continued to tear up the forest, Starbuck could only think
of his friend. Had Boomer encountered these creatures? Had they...had
they gotten him? Was that why the voice signal had been...
     "Starbuck! Watch where you're going!" shouted Apollo, as a sudden
turn wrenched him sideways in his seat.
     "Tell them that!" he replied, as one of the raptons tried to block
their path. Not even slowing, he ran smack into it, sending the beast
flying, and splattering the windshield with purple blood. More shots
sizzled from the guntub, but Grumio was missing as often as he was
hitting.
     "Can you hold this fracking thing steady???" his voice came at last
over the speaker. "For Sagan's sake, I..." He broke off, as more shots
sounded. Another rapton fell dead, right in front of them, and Starbuck
ground his way over it. 
     "Do these horrid things ever learn?" cried Cassie, as yet another of
the vicious predators had its head sheared in half by a laser blast.
     "Not with half a brain, they don't!" said Starbuck, swerving again.
Another angry bolt lanced out, and another of the alien carnivores had
its hideous scaly head pulverized. "Man, that's gotta hurt!" It fell
silent, then after a few moments, Grumio was shooting once more, and then
he stopped, as a loud thump reverberated through the Landram. Followed a
moment later by a Human scream from above.
     "Oh my God..." began Apollo, realizing what it must mean.
     "Oh mong! Look out!" shouted Cassie, pointing, as the ground in
front of them seemed to disappear. 
     "Hang on!" cried Starbuck, and practically ran the engine through
the anti-burn baffle.

     Stepping over the still-smoking metal slab that had once been a
hatch, Boomer dared a quick look into the next chamber of the ancient
complex. It was huge, even larger than the one they were in now. Many of
its lights were dead, but enough still functioned to get a good sense of
the place. One of the first things he noticed was a craft of some sort,
longer than a Colonial shuttle, sitting on a raised platform. The second
was that the last chamber wasn't the only one to function as a tomb. At
least two skeletons, attired as the others, were visible. One near the
open door, another a dozen or so paces away, sitting up against a
console.
     Cheery!
     "Athena!" he called. She turned, and headed for him. He called for
the primitives, and they stood. Kudur-Mabug hefted Oswy in his powerful
arms, and followed Pili towards the open hatchway. "Okay. Come on. We've
got to get out of this..."
     "Me-a lu...Dug zil, Kudur-Mabug..." the woman was saying, exchanging
words with the hunter, so fast that Boomer didn't catch it all, nor could
he have followed if he had. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit from the
tunnel had began again, and the crates were moving. Once the bad guys
figured out it wasn't all that heavy...
     "Here," said Athena, taking one of Oswy's arms. The wounded Warrior
hissed in pain as she took hold, biting his lip. "Hold on, Oswy. Just
hold on a little longer, Cadet."
     "Yes, ma'am," he rasped in response.
     "Frack!" cried Boomer, as a weapon flew past, barely missing his
skull. It was followed by a chilling cry, and he turned, to see one of
the invaders shoving past the blocked door, spear in hand. Boomer fired,
missed, and fired again. He grazed the attacking man, then cried out in
pain.
     "Boomer!" cried Athena, as his laser went flying. Boomer was
cradling his hand, and Pili bent to pick up the barbarian's weapon. It
was some kind of short club, balanced for throwing. Athena had no time to
examine it before another spear sang close. She fired, a scream rewarding
her salvo, and then they were through the hatch.
     Which they could not close. 

       Chapter 26

     The Landram hit the ground on the other side of the streambed with a
brutal slap, and Apollo felt sure his spine was now resident somewhere
between his lower skull and the roof of the cabin. Cassie said something
impious, but Starbuck kept a death grip on the controls. For a moment,
the vehicle stuttered a bit, its tracks ripping up huge clods of mud and
turf as it sought purchase.
     "What was that?" he asked, sparing Cassie a moment's glance. She
looked decidedly bilious. 
     "I said I'm never putting my teddy in the tumble dryer ever again!"
     "Good policy. Cadet!" Starbuck called into his headset. There was no
answer. "Cadet Grumio!" Still nothing. 
     "Starbuck, " said Cassie and Apollo at once. The Captain continued.
"You don't think..."
     "He hasn't fired for a while, Apollo," replied Starbuck, the fear in
his voice evident as he once more made the machine do things it was never
designed for. They evaded a boulder, a tree, and another rapton. He
opened his mouth again, but stopped, as one of the leathery things landed
on the Landram, staring directly at them through the port. Cassie, who
had a life-long fear of reptiles, screamed, and Apollo swore. The rapton
opened its mouth wide, as if grinning, and slammed its beak into the
glass. It held, then took another blow. Transparent tylenium port finally
cracked, and the beast reared its head up to make another strike.
     And lost it, as Starbuck raced the Landram under a large tree with
low-hanging branches. The window was splashed with crimson gore, and the
rest of the thing was ground under by the tracks. Everyone heaved a sigh
of relief as that crisis passed. Starbuck spared a look at the
instruments, declaring that there were no more raptons in proximity...
     Just as they came to a sudden thinning of the trees. More light,
turning their faces red, streamed into the cabin, and Starbuck slowed the
vehicle to something approaching a sane rate of speed. Through the
carnage-streaked windshield, they could see a clearing opening up, and
several fires.
     "Human readings," said Starbuck, as he slowed even further. Ahead,
dozens of people were visible, all now rooted in shock at the sudden
approach of this new monster. One, a tall figure dressed in black and
wielding a spear, rushed towards the oncoming Landram before Starbuck
could fully stop. He hurled the spear, which shattered harmlessly on the
windscreen. Starbuck yanked on the controls, but could not avoid the man,
who bounced off the fender into the mud. With a sudden gut-wrenching
lurch, Starbuck, muttering a long string of choice expletives under his
breath, stood on the brakes, and they at last slid to a stop.
     "Starbuck, just for this, no tip!" snipped Apollo. Starbuck opened
his mouth to reply, then stopped as he looked out, to see themselves...
     Surrounded by Lords knew how many natives.


     Once everyone had run, hobbled or been dragged into the next
chamber, Boomer tried to find something to block the open door. The
original steel hatch was far too heavy, even if it hadn't been blown to
scrap by Athena's laser shots, for him to raise back into place. In here,
there were no more of the large crate-covered pallets, so he looked
around...
     To find a huge rack of tools and boxes, on rollers. He and
Kudur-Mabug pulled them across the opening, and then he took stock.
     And swore. Like the previous chamber, this one was full of ancient
but once more functioning machinery, most of it as mysterious as the last
bunch. The energizers outside were providing power to this chamber, as
well, apparently. Athena was already trying to fathom their purpose,
while he looked...up
     Smack in the center of this huge room was the upper part of a
missile. Moving closer, he looked down, to see the base of the machine
still mounted on its supports, and the top barely an arms length from
its launch hatch. While he could not read the symbols on the sides of
the ancient device, he knew enough about weapon engineering, and it was
superficially similar enough to the Galactica's own missiles, to figure
out that this must be the source of the radiation he'd detected.
     "Boomer," whispered Athena, coming over to his side. "This is
incredible."
     "Yeah. Looks like they didn't launch all of their nuclear arsenal
at the end."
     "I wonder if that was what those two out there..." she poked her
thumb towards the previous control center, "killed each other over."
     "One wanted to launch, the other didn't. Yeah, it makes sense."
     He walked around the silo to the other side of the ancient war
machine, and got another surprise. There, on a raised platform, was the
spacecraft he and Athena had seen on one of the old monitors. It was
connected to the ceiling by a trunk of cables, and lights on its hull
were blinking.
     "Scanner reads it as powering up," said Athena, scanning the
machine. "Batteries and other systems on-line."
     "Let's check her out, Athena."
     "Why?"
     "I don't think the guys in the tunnel are going to let us out of
here, even if we ask nice. Besides, she might have a radio. We've got to
try and contact the Galactica."
     "You're right. I'll..."she began, turning back as Pili began to call
to her. She didn't understand what the cave-woman was saying, but she was
pointing to one of the monitor screens, and waving her hands like an
apoplectic Council Member. She headed for her, and looked at the screen.
     Frack! Some of the others had climbed over the crates and carnage,
and were cautiously making their way into the first chamber. She called
to Boomer, who acknowledged her.
     He was examining the control pad on the side of the spacecraft. The
bulk of the machine was painted white, with an old-fashioned nosecone
forward, with big rocket nozzles aft. He shook his head, tempted to laugh
at how...stone age it all looked. Her engines looked as if they burned
some chemical fuel, and from the scans, probably utilized some primitive
form of nuclear, possibly fission, drive. The radiation, though extremely
low, showed clearly that he was right. Her landing gear were metal pads,
extending from the body on spring-loaded shafts. All in all, she looked
like something he'd seen in an old paperbound book in school, but nothing
that had actually flown in the Colonies in living memory. Even the ships
from Terra hadn't been as antique as this.
     The hatch, in the center of what looked like some kind of detachable
module, was accessed from a small panel, now blinking steadily. Boomer,
of whom hovermobiles lived in fear, studied the controls a few moments,
then tried one. Much to his shock, it was the right one. After a beep and
a few heartbeats, the hatch began to slide open.
     "Athena!" he called. She headed back for him, the rest in tow. The
primitives stopped a moment, seemingly in shock at the sight of yet
another unheard-of wonder. They chattered among themselves, pointing at
the ancient ship, then looked at Boomer. Pili began to talk, but she went
too fast for him to get much beyond another, forest, and long ago. Not
for the first time did he wish for the gift of cavewoman gab.
     "Let's get Oswy inside," said Athena, looking at Boomer. "We can't
keep dragging him around like this, Boomer."
     "Right. Here."
 

     For an eternal moment, no one moved, or spoke, or did anything. The
strange monster that had roared out of the forest had grabbed everyone's
attention, and they remained rooted to the spot. Starbuck, however,
wasn't as impressed with their technology as they were with his, and he
was out of his seat faster than a Viper could launch.
     "Starbuck..."
     "C'mon!" he replied, not even looking at his Captain. "Gotta check
on Grumio." As if tied to him, Cassie followed him up the ladder to the
gun tub, medkit in hand. 
     Knowing that there was nothing he could do that Cassie could not in
that arena, Apollo checked his weapon, and opened the hatch, carefully
stepping out onto the mud-encrusted track. He made sure everyone could
see his weapon, and rapidly took in the assembled group. What he saw
disgusted him, as few things ever had.
     A number of warriors, clad in crude black fabric or leather, had
been in the process of binding, killing, and otherwise assaulting another
group of people, who from their dress and accouterments, lived at an even
more primitive level. One of the black-clad men, his hands on a terrified
woman, raised a weapon, but Apollo fired over the fellow's head, and he
cried out in fear, letting his would-be victim go. Another was not so
wise, and Apollo shot him dead on. The raider fell, stunned. Thinking him
dead, some of his fellows broke and ran, dropping their captives and
satchels of booty. Apollo reset his weapon, fired a more shots, one
setting a tree afire, and soon they were gone, screaming with terror into
the forest. As he stepped down, the only sounds remaining were the cries
of pain, and weeping, from the brutalized cave-dwellers. 
     "Apollo?" called Cassie, looking over the top of the guntub.
     "Yeah. Grumio?"
     "I'm not sure."
     "Huh?" said Apollo, as one of the primitives, obviously injured and
using a branch as a crutch, approached him, and spoke. Spoke a word he
longed to hear, but never expected to.
     "Boo-mer?"

       Chapter 27
 
     The interior of the old spacecraft was brightly lit, and was
(somehow not to anyone's surprise), occupied. Yet another partially
mummified skeleton was inside of it. In fact there were two, still clad
in rotted uniforms like those of the others, bony arms about each other
as if in an eternal embrace, weapon on the floor between them. They were
in the rearmost row of seats, of which there were four, all upholstered
in some synthetic material. They set Oswy down on the floor of the
module, and stood up. On the opposite side of the chamber, a console with
screens and computer gear was built into the bulkhead. The air, in spite
of centuries of stillness and decay, was surprisingly fresh, thanks to
the somewhat noisy ventilators in the ceiling.
     "How is he?" asked Boomer, as Athena and Pili settled Oswy as
comfortably as possible.
     "Holding his own, Boomer," said Athena, after a quick scan. "I guess
being built like an ambrosia truck helps."
     "We should all be so lucky," quipped Boomer. "Okay, wish me luck."
     "How are you going to transmit through all that?" she asked, jerking
her thumb up to where the concrete ceiling was. "Even if her transmitter
still works."
     "One thing at a time, Athena. Nothing remains above ground. At least
we didn't scan any antennae or other electronic arrays such on our over
flight." He spared a micron's glance at the departed couple. For a
moment, he wondered if he and Athena would be the next to...
     No!
     "Well, let's hope the concrete isn't too thick."
     "Yeah," he replied, but didn't articulate his dread that this
facility, being a nuclear weapon silo, had been specially hardened. No
doubt, the ceiling above was no flimsy cover. Maybe, if this bird was
armed...
     He looked up, and then went forward, to try and get into the
cockpit, and see what there was in the way of comm gear on this ship.
 
     "Boomer?" asked Apollo, excitedly. "Where? Where is Boomer?" But the
native only replied in gibberish, and he at last gave up trying to
communicate. "Starbuck!" he shouted. 
     "Yo?"
     "Get down here."
     "Here," said Starbuck, jumping down from atop the Landram, splashing
Apollo with mud. 
     "How is he?" asked Apollo, gesturing with his thumb back towards
Grumio.
     "One of those reptile things tore up an arm pretty bad, and his face
and chest..." He shook his head, then cried: "Look!"
     "The transmitter!" said Apollo, and they dashed towards the
emergency transmitter unit. It had been knocked over and trampled during
the attack, its case smashed, the inner circuits and wires mangled beyond
all repair. Apollo picked it up, and then threw it down it with a growl.
Mong! He turned, and moved by compassion, helped one of the brutalized
cavewomen to her feet, and then looked around some more. He felt a rising
disgust at the sight of what the attackers had done here. Bodies, blood,
death. For an instant, he flashed back to Caprica, the night of the
Holocaust. Lords, if Boomer was stuck in the middle if this...
     "Huh?" said Starbuck, as one of the men grabbed his hand. The
primitive pointed towards the cave, and with a brief glance at Apollo,
the Warrior made his way there. Once inside, he studied the man. While
obviously Human, he wasn't like any Humans Starbuck had ever met. The
wide skull, the sloping forehead with beetling brow ridges reminded him
of the Borellian Nomen, yet was somehow different. Less threatening.
Beetling brows? Hades, they didn't beetle so much as BaseShip! It gave
the fellow an appearance of stupidity, but the Warrior saw some
brainpower at work in those dark, deep-set eyes. The fellow pointed
again, to some items on the cave floor, and Starbuck saw...
     "Apollo!" he shouted, and his Captain came running. On the floor of
the cave, near the back, were the mangled remains of Boomer's
communicator, some stained bandages and wrappings from a Colonial medkit,
and a Viper pilot's jacket, torn and bloody.
     "Must be Oswy's," said Apollo, after examining the rank insignia.  
     "Well, he was hurt," said Starbuck. "He and Boomer must have joined
up here, though."
     "Yeah, but what about Athena?" said Apollo, almost in a whisper.
"Where the fracking Hades Hole is Athena?" He grabbed up one of the
cave-dweller's torches, and studied the floor. Footprints! Yes, boots,
and Colonial Warrior issue, from the tread. He saw several sets of
tracks, all overlapping each other, one being dragged, and among them
Athena's small foot.
     "At-heen-uhh?" said one of the cave dwellers. Apollo at once
recognized his sister's name, however mangled the pronunciation. 
     "You know...where? Where is Athena?" shouted Apollo, his bottled
emotions threatening to spew forth.
     "At-heen-uhh. Boo-mur," said the primitive once more, and took
Apollo's hand, leading him to the very back wall of the cave. Only it was
a wall no longer.
     "A tunnel," said Apollo. He scanned down into the darkness. "Human
readings, Starbuck."
     "Then what are we waiting for?' said the Lieutenant, brushing past
Apollo. "Let's go..."
     "Go tell Cassie what we've found," said Apollo, hand blocking his
motion. "Ask her to try and give medical help to the locals if she can.
And then try and make contact with the Galactica. Fill them in."
     "But..."
     "Orders, Lieutenant!"
     "Orders. Right. Okay."  

       Chapter 28

     Moving forward, Boomer found that the old shuttle had a surprisingly
"homey" feel to it. Though he had never been inside a craft quite like
it, it nonetheless felt somehow familiar. He decided that, being designed
and built by Humans from the same mother-culture as his own, this was
just natural, and sloughed it off. The forward hatch opened automatically
at his approach, and he passed through a tiny service area, complete with
sink, small food storage/prep area (rather smelly), smaller head, and
then another hatch opened, into the cockpit. Like the rest of the craft,
it was brightly lit, humming with power, as if waiting for him.
     It was, like its Colonial counterpart, built for a pilot and
co-pilot, and had two seats. Each was close to the floor, and slid back
and forth on slim rails. Both pilot stations sported control sticks, and
a dazzling array of lights and buttons, with triangular ports over the
control panels. Boomer swore softly, and tried to find something that
resembled a cockpit communications array. 
     Back in the passenger area, Athena had made Oswy as comfortable as
possible, and had given him some water. Pili and Kudur-Mabug had started
noisily at the sight of the corpses in the back, and Athena tried to
divert their attention. What she could not divert were her own thoughts
about the missile just outside, and the fact that, on one of the ancient
control panels in the outer chamber, a countdown was in progress. Was it
for the weapon? Had its countdown, interrupted long centuries ago, now
been resumed, or was it for the shuttle or perhaps something else in
this mysterious installation? Maybe...
     She turned, as Kudur-Mabug pointed at something. One of the monitors
on the bulkhead of the passenger section showed images from the outer
chamber. One of the attackers had finally gathered the courage, and
forced his way over the crates and corpses, to make it into the room.
Armed with a spear, and a sword thrust through his belt, he looked
around, searching for his prey.
     Hopefully, he won't figure out we're in here, thought Athena,
watching the man. A few centons later, he was joined by a second raider,
and the two began searching the chamber.
     Hopefully the Cylons will reform. She called to Boomer on her
communicator, keeping her voice low.
     "Nothing yet, Athena," replied the other. "You want to come up and
check, too? Four eyes, and all."
     "Okay. Let me check on Oswy just once more, and I'll be..." She
broke off, as Pili began to talk rapid-fire, then Kudur-Mabug. The young
hunter pointed out the open hatchway.
     To the raider, looking through the slagged door.
     Frack! 
 
     "Say again, Cassiopeia," said Colonel Tigh, on the bridge of the
Galactica. He had just been about to log off, when a signal had come
through unexpectedly from the rescue shuttle.
     "We've found them, Colonel," she repeated, her image a little fuzzy
on the monitor. "At least the place where they were camped. Apollo and
Starbuck have gone in pursuit, and I'm here in the Landram giving
first-aid to Cadet Grumio. He was attacked by a native carnivore, and
badly hurt."
     "Prognosis?"
     "He needs more than I can do for him down here, sir. Infection is
setting in, and I don't have enough broad-spectrum medication for him."
     "I see. And Captain Apollo? Lieutenant Starbuck?"
     "Gone in pursuit of Boomer and Athena as I said, but otherwise
unhurt. They've apparently gone down into some sort of a cave or tunnel,
Colonel." 
     "A cave?" asked Adama, having come up behind Tigh. The Exec had
called him to the bridge at once upon receiving Cassie's signal.
     "Yes, Commander. One of the natives led them there."
     "Natives? Humans?"
     "Yes, sir. From my medical scans, they are Human." She explained the
cave-dweller's camp, and the wounded. "How long until the Galactica
arrives, sir?"
     "One hundred and nineteen centons, present speed." Adama saw her
expression. "But we won't wait that long." He turned to Omega, and
ordered the ship's speed notched up. Once the whole Fleet was in sync, he
returned to Cassie. "ETA now fifty-five centons, Cassie."
     "Thank-you. Please have a medical team standing by. Grumio needs to
get to Life Center as soon as possible."
     "We shall." Adama watched her image disappear, and stared for a
moment at the blank monitor. Then, slowly, he raised his eyes to the
forward viewport. The planet was not yet visible, its sun still just a
dot. But already, he felt better. A sudden chill ran through him, but he
wasn't sure if it was relief, or a new fear.
     Athena. 
 
     The landing of the shuttle with its accompanying noise, the bright
flashes of myriad laser blasts, and a gathering of the flying reptiles
had not gone unnoticed by certain other of the planet's inhabitants. Many
kilometrons away, across the rolling prairie in another patch of dense
forest, one of those inhabitants, a vast, lumbering beast with a
gargantuan appetite, and correspondingly tiny brain, watched it all with
all the interest and attention its miniscule mind could muster. After
some while, without any real conscious awareness that it had decided
anything at all, it turned, and began heading that way, its gigantic feet
crushing everything in their path, and sending deafening booms of thunder
across the land.

     Boomer was beginning to snarl in frustration, trying to figure out
where the blasted radio was. How many ways were there to design one,
after all? He looked up to see a view on one of the cockpit monitors.
Apparently a camera atop the ship was functional, and he could see one of
the attackers sticking his head through the ruined door. He yelled back
to warn Athena, but she'd seen him already. If they could just...
     But no. The shuttle was across the silo complex from the door, with
the missile in between them. While it might shield them from immediate
view by the intruders, it also meant that they couldn't shoot from their
present cover without possibly hitting the thing. Their scans showed that
electronic systems inside the ancient war machine were active, receiving
power from the electrical grid inside the complex. Its fuel, rather than
a liquid propellant, was in solid form. Boomer had no clue whether it
might still be viable after all these centuries, but he didn't want to
rip into it with laser fire to find out for sure.
     Suddenly, he got an idea. The ancient satellite they had encountered
in orbit had used the long-antiquated gamma frequency technology.
Presumably, so did whatever sort of communications gear had been
installed in this bird. Of course, now, there was nothing for any radio
system to receive, but maybe, if it had been left on...
     He took his scanner, and adjusted the frequency of the emitter
diodes. He went up, then down the entire spectrum the device was capable
of, trying to find an appropriate frequency. After a few centons, he got
something. The scanner squealed loudly, and there was a hiss from a panel
to his left. He pointed the scanner that way again, and got the same
results.
     "Yeah!" he grinned, and he took it in. A grill, with buttons under
it. And, down between the seat and the side of the cockpit, a set of
headphones with mic. Cursing silently that he hadn't thought to look for
those, he plugged them in to the controls. He punched a few controls, and
a digital dial came to life. As expected, his ears were filled with a
soft hiss. He studied it for a while, and then hit the transmit key.

     "What the frack was that?" asked Starbuck, as the scanners in the
Landram began to whine and squeal.

     "What the frack was that?" muttered Apollo, as his scanner began to
squeal. He looked more closely at the device. Radio energy? From inside
of here? It wasn't on any channel his communicator could normally pick
up. And that wasn't all. Life forms, Human, and heading his way. And
something else, too. Some kind of serious electronics were functioning
directly ahead. He could see a patch of light ahead, and his native guide
was getting antsy.
     He also picked up a source of controlled radiation from deep inside
this tunnel. A cold chill ran down his spine. He drew his weapon, and
opened a channel on his communicator. 
     "Starbuck! get down here!"   
 
       Chapter 29

     Starbuck finished up helping Cassie splint the broken arm of one of
the injured natives, then hopped back into the Landram again for a
moment. He fired her up, and maneuvered the vehicle to block the cave
entrance. If the attackers should return, he told Cassiopeia, this way
they couldn't surround them, and would give her a wide field of fire
without having to worry about her back. He showed her the basics of the
gun tub's operations, and then went back inside. Grabbing an extra laser
from the weapons locker, and with some final military instructions and a
last kiss for Cassie, he headed down into the gloom.
     It was a long-unfamiliar smell that hit his nostrils, once he was
inside the tunnnel. Long used to the filtered air of the Galactica or a
Viper, it took a moment to register. Decay. Decay, rust, and Lords knew
what else. The last time he'd smelled something like this was...on
Carillon. No, Proteus Prison. His cell, and the building that had housed
it, had reeked of rust, sweat, and the like. This was similar, and he had
to shake his head to clear his thoughts of memories of that dank, dismal
place.
     Scanner in hand, he fairly quickly found the first skeleton, then
locked onto Apollo's bio readings. He called to him, his whisper sounding
like thunder in this taboo place, and was directed by flashlight to join
him behind a concrete support beam.
     "What is it?"
     "People," said Apollo. "About a dozen or so. And armed."
     "What with?"
     "Swords and spears, the scanner says. Some are down, inside the far
chamber." In the distance, the light and sound from the control center
were spilling out into the darkness. "A couple are heading this way."
     "We can take 'em," said Starbuck, hefting his laser, and making sure
the other one was at the ready. "I..."
     "Starbuck! Hold your equines, will ya?" Apollo put a hand firmly on
the other's shoulder. "Stop and think a micron. They, whoever they are,
could be from the same tribe that Boomer was with, rather than the bad
guys. And, they've been down here longer than we have. They will have
adjusted to the dark more than we have."
     "Uhhh," said Starbuck. "I should have brought some infrared goggles
from the Landram." He sounded sulky. "But Boomer..."
     "We'll get him! Just stay in your launch tube for a few, and think."
He scanned ahead again, and Starbuck did the same. With a stereoscopic
scan of the area, Apollo located some extra biosigns, further on.
Adjusting the fine tuning, he was able to resolve...
     "Female readings!" he said, the relief in his voice as palpable as a
worship bell at close range. Athena! "Dead ahead, range about...blast. I
can't resolve it any better."
     "I read two females, Apollo. Both within a hair of each other." He
adjusted the scanner. "Blast all this electrical interference. It's
screwing up some of the data."
     "Well, we can't worry about that now, Starbuck." He looked at his
scanner again, then ahead into the darkness. Something was moving his
way. It was Human, and armed to the teeth. "Starbuck?"
     Something sang past them, clattering on the wall behind them.
     "Yeah, I see it."
     "Set laser to stun. And duck!"
 
     Boomer kept on transmitting, even though he had as yet gotten no
response. He didn't expect an immediate one, given the slower than light
gamma frequency system that he presumed this was, but hopefully, if the
Galactica were close enough, the gamma frequency signal booster he'd
rigged to Apollo's setup in the old Celestial Chamber might pick it up,
and trip the alarm. Eventually, hopefully not too eventually, someone
would go and check it out. Apollo had been neglecting the thing lately,
but maybe, just maybe...
     He also had found the controls to the ship's power plant. Carefully,
after many scans of the instruments, and a silent prayer or two, he dared
at last to try-- a group of switches, just to the right of the pilot's
station, near the center of the panel. He flipped one up, and there was a
sound. Like a dull thump, he could feel it more than hear it, through the
deck plates. At once, a group of lights came up, and an indicator arrow
on a small panel began to rise.
     "Looks promising," he muttered, and flipped the second switch.
Another thump, and a second indicator came to life. He scanned again.
Some sort of power readings from the engines, he was sure. The ancient
power plant was still operational, and was once more active.
  
     As were some of the instruments tormentingly close to the shuttle.
Athena watched, as one of the natives entered, looking about the place in
suitably agog fashion, and cursed. She informed Boomer, then returned to
scanning. She had an idea, a way to shut down the countdown, hopefully,
but it rather depended on her being at the controls, something the
heavily armed warrior wasn't likely to countenance. She drew her laser,
and checked the setting. She didn't really want to kill the fellow, and
made sure it was on the heaviest stun setting. That done, she stepped out
of the shuttle...
     "What?" she asked, as Pili took her hand. She couldn't follow the
woman's babble, and looked about for her Languatron. Pili had also, it
seems, noticed the intruder's approach, and had a question. Athena was
shocked--she had no idea the primitive cave dweller was that savvy. She
was about to answer, when a large bank of lights, mounted on the silo
wall near the missile, came to life. She recognized their import at once,
for the same color scheme had used in the Colonies. One was yellow, and
was blinking. The one next to it, green, was not. 
     Yet.
  
     Across the forest, the gargantuan mental midget continued to stomp
and crash through the forest, closer and closer to the smell of blood and
flesh. It stopped a time or two to devour some of the tiny creatures
that moved across its path, the taste and smell of them only sharpening
its instinctual frenzy. On and on it plodded.
     Closer and closer. 

       Chapter 29a

     "Doctor, how much longer is this going to take?"
     Dr. Salik smiled down at her with that paternalistic air that Sheba
had never cared for. "For the thousandth time, Sheba, you're only a cycle
or two away from getting out. We just need the computer's final analysis
of your physical tests."
     "How long does it take to read those fracking results?" She wasn't
in the mood to avoid cursing.
     "Very long when you go as long as you have without a physical,"
Salik said gently, but with the smile gone now. "Now in the meantime,
just relax."
     Sheba settled back in the bed and with a disgusted sigh stared up at
the ceiling, convinced she was about to lose her sanity with each passing
centar she spent in the Life Station. Relax. Ha! It was bad enough that
Apollo had forced her to show up for something she hated. Now, she had
heard all the rumors making their way through the crew of some serious
developments with the mission that Boomer and Athena had gone on, which
under normal circumstances would have been her mission. Apollo would pay.
Oh Lords, would he pay!
     I have got to get out of here, she thought for the hundredth time.
If only for a few centars at least, so she could have some time to
herself. In here, surrounded by all the beeping machinery and nosy
med-techs, she felt no sense of privacy at all. If Cassiopeia had been
on-duty, then she could have at least had one friend to talk to, but not
with all these strangers from the rest of the staff. The sooner she got
out, the better.
     Or slipped out.
     She glanced up at the chronometer on the wall. Salik would be going
off-duty in another centar, and that was when the irritating deputy
chief, Paye, would take over. That would be the time to make her move.
Wait for Salik to leave, and then in the midst of the other shifts
changes, quietly slip out and head straight to her quarters for a quick
change of clothes, and then off to the most isolated spot she could find
on the Battlestar.  Where neither the medical orderlies nor even the
professionals from Colonial Security would immediately think of looking
for her.
     And she already had a good idea of where the ideal place to go was. 

       Chapter 30

     Along with the lights next to the missile, a klaxon began to blare.
Unlike the one of the Galactica, it set Athena's teeth on edge, like
scratching one's nails down a slateboard. It was so loud, it had
violently startled her, and she could barely hear Pili next to her.
     It had, also, seemingly, done the same to the intruder. He stopped,
looked about him with a fearful expression, and then ran for the
entrance. Athena let out a lungful. She hadn't wanted to shoot him
anyway. Not really. She turned to Pili. "I guess you won't have to play
diversion after all. He's gone."
     "Whatever you said," she replied, in her own tongue.
     "Whatever you said," replied Athena.
 
     Starbuck fired, almost at the same moment as Apollo did. Their shots
lit up the tunnel like lightening, and they saw their attackers go down.
The primitives screamed out, the cries echoing through tunnel, and both
Warriors ran towards their position, once more finding cover behind
scattered wreckage. Apollo checked. The locals were still alive.
     "Those screams will bring more of them," said Starbuck.
     "Can't be helped," replied Apollo. "We've got to get to them...uh
oh."
     "What?"
     "Scanner. See it?" As he spoke, the sound of the distant klaxon
reverberated through the tunnel.
     "Hard to see through all this electronic felcercarb," answered
Starbuck. "Some kind of weapon system?"
     "It looks like it. Radion signature too, but it's too compact to
be waste or traces."
     "A power plant, maybe? Something is producing all this electrical
power."
     "I don't know, Starbuck. We need...there it is again!"
     "Athena?"
     "Yeah. Female Human readings."
     "Then let's go, Apollo. Lords know what kind of danger she's..."
     "Look!" 
     Starbuck turned, and saw a silhouette in the light from the open
blast door. It was another spear-wielding primitive. Starbuck took
careful aim...

     "Lieutenant Boomer to Galactica. Come in, please. This is Lieutenant
Boomer, calling the Galactica. Respond please." Boomer let up on the
transmit key, and heard only the whistle and crackle of static from the
tiny speaker grill. Cursing softly, he tried again, trying to tune the
thing out of the gamma range, but to no avail. That would require tearing
the whole system open, and reconfiguring everything, something which
might take centars. There was also the roof of the hangar/silo; it read
as very thick steel-reinforced concrete. He wondered if the shuttle's
small radio even had the power to punch through that much shielding. He
looked over at the instruments. The shuttle's power readings were nearly
up to full now, and he was sure he could fly this thing, given a chance.
But getting it out of the hangar presented something of a problem.

     On the Galactica, up in the old Celestial Chamber Apollo seemed to
be always fixing up, Sheba sat, watching the stars. Although she was
feeling a lot better, she was still officially on medical furlon, and
would remain so, until Dr. Salik cleared her as fit to return to flight
status. Something he wasn't likely to do with much grace, once he found
out that she had slipped out of LifeStation, without leave. The normally
avuncular medico would likely have her back in a biobed so fast...
     Damn all flight physicals and such, anyway! She looked down, at the
hands folded on her lap, pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders,
and slowly shook her head. Maybe coming up her wasn't the brightest thing
she'd ever done, but God, how she hated medical centers of all kinds,
hated being poked, prodded, injected, tested, and Lords knew what else!
She just wanted to be alone. Alone to think, and her quarters were about
as inviting as a thruster nozzle just now.
     Uttering a mild curse, she looked back up, at the tiny yellow dot
that was the sun they were approaching. The planet was not yet visible,
but was now within range of the old-style scanner the chamber had been
fitted with long ago. She looked out, across the heavens, and for a few
moments, wondered about her father. Somewhere, out there in all that
vastness, was Commander Cain. She was sure of it. Her father still lived,
and, if she knew him, was still giving the Cylons Hades at every
opportunity. If only she could just see him, once more. If only she could
just hear his voice again. 
     Feeling the chill, she decided she'd been pretty dumb coming up
here, and got up out of the seat, when...
     "...to Gal...ca...in please..."
     "What the..." she began, for the tiniest moment, wondering if her
silent prayer had been heard. She looked down, and a light was flashing
on the antiquated instrument panel. She tried to remember which buttons
did what, and pressed the blue one. The volume rose, but reception still
stunk. She fiddled some more, finally turning up Boomer's little
addition. At once, the signal soared in clarity.
     "Lieutenant Boomer to Galactica. Come in, please. This is Lieutenant
Boomer, calling the Galactica. Respond please."   
     "Oh my God!" she cried, and looked for the transmit key. C'mon! It's
a radio! There's got to be one on this museum piece...ah!
     "Boomer? Boomer, this is Sheba! Are you alright?" Without even
waiting for an answer, she signaled the bridge. "Omega? Get me Commander
Adama."

     Closer and closer, the mountainous beast came, crushing and
flattening everything in its mindless path. The smell of blood and food
was beyond maddening now, stripping away what little restraint such a
microscopic mind could muster.

     Athena braved venturing out of the shuttle, to try and reach the
control station for the missile. She dashed across the concrete floor as
fast as possible, Pili surprisingly sticking to her like chewing gum to
the felus. The controls were blinking, whirring, and otherwise very
noisy. Like the outer room, there was a bank of computers in here, and
she tried to make sense of the large, bulky keyboard and rolling
monitors. She tried a few characters, to no effect. Growling in
frustration, she tried a few more. This time she got a response. The
lights in the missile silo were joined by more, some on the body of the
weapon itself. 
     "Frack!" she snarled. That was brilliant! She scanned over it some
more, and tried...
     On the ceiling, high over the nosecone of the weapon, still more
lights blazed to life, outlining some kind of launch hatch. Almost at
once, the hatch began to move, sliding back. Athena looked from it, back
to the computer, then...
     With a loud grinding sound, the hatch froze, followed by the shriek
of a dying electric motor. At once, several of the lights on the hatch
died, and a warning began to flash on the console. She tried to gauge
what had just happened, when one of the primitives, this one wielding a
sword, came through the hatch, and locked gazes with her. After a
seemingly eternal moment, he moved to attack.

       Chapter 31

     As the first of the primitives in the tunnel went down, the rest
fled back into the lighted chamber. Apollo had struck one of them dead
on, but Starbuck had slipped on the damp floor, and his shot had gone
wild. Nonetheless, the effect of his shot on the old steel was
spectacular enough to send the others scurrying back in terror.
     "Come on," said Apollo, and they rushed the blastdoor. Once gained,
they rounded the gap, and leveled their weapons...

     "Understood, Boomer," said Adama, on the Galactica bridge. Once he
had been informed by Sheba of the signal coming from the planet ahead, he
had ordered the Celestial Dome's operations transferred to the bridge.
With all the enhancements available here, Boomer's transmission was not
only loud, but clear. He'd found a vid pickup in the old shuttle's
cockpit, and was now on Adama's screen. "We have your position plotted."
     "We're hemmed in, here. We can't get out, and the tunnel is blocked
by I don't know how many of those primitives."
     "A Special Forces team is being assembled, Lieutenant. It will be
ready by the time we make orbit."
     "I just hope this hangar is still here when you do," said Boomer.
 
      Athena ducked, as the intruder lunged at her with his sword. While
certainly no fencing master, he had a lot of strength behind it, chopping
down on her hand. He missed, but her laser was hacked to bits, the
smoking parts scattering as she leapt back. He swung again, and this time
it barely missed her head, instead making short work of one of the
chairs. Growling in frustration, he attacked again, chopping the computer
keyboard in half, sending sparks flying. He screamed out as electricity
surged through his arm, and the sword clattered to the floor. As he
clutched his injured arm in pain, she recovered enough to deliver a
roundhouse kick to his face. With a gurgled cry, he went sprawling, out
of the fight. Barely had he done so when one of his fellows came in
behind him, similarly armed. He advanced on her, blade raised, his face a
study in toothless glee. Athena backed up again, until she could go no
further.
 
     Closer and closer the towering reptilian eating machine came.
Thundering and crushing its way towards the encampment.
 
     Cadet Oswy struggled to get to a sitting position, pain wracking his
every movement. The caveman was there, and helped him move, but he
couldn't understand a word. Athena? Where was she? He motioned to his
Stone-Age companion, and the other helped him get to his wobbly feet. He
repeated her name, and the savage pointed towards the open hatch. So, she
was outside. Oswy nodded, and decided he felt like daggit mong. Pain,
trouble breathing, vision swimming. Make that old, rotting, very yucky
daggit-mong that had been stepped on! He didn't have a lot of time left,
he knew. But he was a Colonial Warrior! He couldn't just lay on the
floor, while...
     "Yeah," he muttered, as Kudur-Mabug tried to communicate with him.
"Ooga booga." He was about to speak again, when he heard a scream.
     Athena! 
     He checked his belt, only to find out he didn't have one anymore. Or
a jacket, or even a tunic. He didn't know where Boomer was, and he had to
do...
     "What?" he said, as the hunter tugged on his arm again. "I can't..."
He stopped, as the primitive showed him an open crate, stowed aboard the
shuttle long ago. Like one of the crates in the outer chamber, it had
been loaded with weapons. Ridiculously crude by modern standards,
perhaps, but as they taught you at the Academy, when in need, improvise.
     Fighting both pain and weakness, Oswy hefted one of the ancient
firearms, and studied it. A life-long habituate of museums and antique
shops, he didn't take long to figure out the basics. He steadied himself
against the crate, took as deep a breath as his ravaged body would
permit, and hobbled towards the hatch.

     Apollo and Stabuck ran smack into one of the armed primitives, who
seemed as surprised as they were. Or rather Apollo did. Starbuck, once
past the opening, tripped on something, and went sprawling, ending smack
up against one of the corpses. Uttering an expletive, he tried to scurry
away, which was lucky, for a spearpoint stabbed its way through the spot
where his head had been a moment before. Recovering fast, he raised his
laser and fired. He missed, but the other leapt away in terror.
     Apollo's opposite number wasn't as lucky. Apparently figuring he was
going to be lucky, he hurled his spear directly at the Captain. The bolt
from Apollo's pistol hit him before the spear had left his hand, and
burned through the leather armor covering his chest. With a scream, he
fell back, cracking his skull on a piece of machinery. He twitched, and
was still.
     But Apollo wasn't too lucky, either. He dodged, but not fast enough,
for the spear, missing his eye, grazed the side of his face instead,
cutting a deep wound in his left cheek. He yelped in pain, and staggered
back. At last finding his feet, he looked at the blood on his hand, and
swore.
     "Starbuck?"
     "Yeah. We got 'em all, Apollo," shouted the Lieutenant, trying to be
heard over the din. Starbuck had downed one, and a second, the last as
far as he could tell, had fled back up the tunnel. "You okay?"
     "Frack no!" snapped Apollo, hand to face, the blood seeping between
his fingers. "I just got my face ripped open by a spear! Do I look like
I'm okay?" Before Starbuck could answer, they heard a scream over the
noise, then a sound neither could recognize.
     "Athena!" they both said, and dashed for the next hatchway.
 
     Oswy tried to focus, but wasn't doing so hot. He stepped down off
the shuttle, and looked towards Athena. One of the intruders lay at her
feet, presumably dead, and another was advancing on her with a very
wicked-looking sword. He moved as fast as possible towards her, and then
screamed at the top of his throbbing lungs-
     "ATHENA! DOWN!" To his surprise, she did just that, and he leveled
the ancient weapon, and with a prayer, pulled the trigger.

       Chapter 32

     The vast, ponderous reptilian intake valve for meat smashed closer
and closer through the dense forest, then paused. It looked about it for
a few moments, its thumb-sized brain completely overwhelmed with the
smells and sounds of food, and then sniffed the air again. Yes! Blood was
heavy in its nostrils, and the cries of prey heavy upon the wind, and the
microscopic excuse for a mind went into overload. The towering predator
took in a huge draught of air, and then screamed in utter bestial frenzy.
Then the gargantuan beast resumed its journey, breaking into a run. 
  
     The muzzle of the old firearm blazed, as bullets spat out the
barrel, smashing the glass window just over the attacker's head. The
primitive started, looked around, then saw the old machine-gun roared to
life again. It was his last sight on this side, as the cupric-jacketed
lead slugs stitched a trail of wounds across his chest and gut. With a
scream, he went down in a bloody heap.
     "Not bad for an old relic," muttered Oswy, to his companion.
Kudur-Mabug just smiled, obviously impressed with the results.
     Athena turned at the sound of gunfire, and saw her student, looking
like something fresh from the mortuary, leaning on Kudur-Mabug, a smoking
firearm in one hand. She got up, and looked at her erste while opponent.
She shook her head, and then...
     "Athena!" cried a voice, and her head snapped up. For a moment, she
couldn't believe her eyes.
     "Apollo!" she cried, and ran to embrace her brother. She hugged him
madly, forgetting her situation for a moment, then a voice broke in...
     "Hey, what about me?" cried Starbuck, and she hugged him as well.
Talking as fast as she could, she filled them in on events, and the
soon-to-launch missile. Apollo checked out the control console, but the
barbarian's sword, and a couple of stray slugs had pretty much left it a
forlorn hope. 
     "Cap...Captain..." Oswy cried, and they left the ravaged controls,
to catch the equally ravaged cadet as his knees buckled. "Captain...
Apollo," he rasped, the weapon slipping from his fingers to clatter
on the floor.
     "Cadet, are you okay?" asked Starbuck. Oswy threw him a pained look
that said what he thought of such intelligent questions, and passed out.
     "Athena, where's Boomer?" asked Apollo. She told him, pointing
towards the shuttle. Apollo ordered her to get the insensate Oswy back
there. He would try and do something with the controls. Athena, being
Athena, made to argue, since she knew more about them than he did. Fine,
once Oswy was aboard, come back and help. 
     Apollo set his pistol down on the console, and studied what was left
of the control systems. He'd seen equipment something like this in a
museum field trip in elementary school once, a Mission Control center
left over from the very early days of space flight in the Colonies. As he
studied what devices seemed to still be working, he didn't notice the
other barbarian, sent sprawling by Athena's boot, open his eyes, slowly
pick himself up from the floor, and retrieve his sword. Apollo pressed a
few buttons, got nowhere, then a few more. Finally, blessedly, that
damned klaxon went silent. Bless you, Lords of Kobol! He then looked up
at the old black and white monitors. Some still worked, though one had
gone dark, the glass surface of the primitive cathode ray tube like
polished onyx. He looked at it, sensing movement out of the corner of his
eye, and...
     He turned, just as the primitive screamed in pure fury. 
 
     Boomer had heard the sudden sound of weapons fire, and came up out
of his seat, heading aft at a run. Where the Hades were Oswy and the cave
people? Athena? Frack, I told them to...
     There it was again! More firing. He moved to the open hatch, and
jumped down. Across the hangar floor, he could see Oswy, spraying fire of
some sort in the direction of one of the intruders. He drew his own
weapon, and moved towards him, ducking momentarily behind a concrete
support for cover. Oswy ceased firing, and the Lieutenant whipped around,
weapon leveled, to see Starbuck heading his way, with the rest.
     "BOOMER!" shouted Starbuck, face lit up like a yule log on a dark
night. He was so overjoyed to see his old friend he wrapped his arms
around him, laughing as if he hadn't a care in the world. "I'm sorry, but
I forget to bring a clean uniform," he said. Boomer just shook his head.
Only  Starbuck would say something like that at a time like this!
     "Starbuck, I hate to rain on this parade," shouted Athena, "but we
have a missile about to..." The klaxon fell silent, and she stopped.
"Launch," she finished finally. 
     "A missile? How..." he started to ask, when two things happened. The
chamber shook, as if a huge fist had punched it, then shook again. And,
they heard Apollo shouting.

     Cassie looked up from tending a wounded man, and screamed.

       Chapter 33

     Apollo leapt backwards, managing to keep on his feet, as the
barbarian's sword sliced close to his chest. He looked over at his laser,
cursing himself for being so lax, and lunged for it. The other, however,
having learned something of the power of the bizarre things these
intruders carried, got there first, keeping Apollo back with powerful
strokes of his sword. He grabbed the weapon, and leered at Apollo, his
intent obvious. He pointed it at Apollo, uttered something in his alien
language that sounded like a taunt, laughed, pulled the trigger...
     "You forget the safety, dimwit?" said the Captain, and jumped up,
lashing out with his boots, kicking the gun from his opponent's hand. It
flew up into the air, and Apollo grabbed it, bringing it to bear on the
other, pointing it in his face. "Aw, gee. No laser?" he smiled, and let
the safety off.
     But the other was no rock brain. He ducked, then head-blocked Apollo
with incredible swiftness, sending the two of them into a heap on the
floor. The barbarian snarled and spat, as he tried to wrench the laser
from his opponent. Apollo found the other's strength to be frightening,
his muscles bulging like a trained athlete. No matter how hard he tried
to hold on to the weapon, the native was slowly prying it loose from his
fingers. As they bent back, the other grinned at him, his eyes and leer
bespeaking the cruelty within.
     The room shook again, as the barbarian finally got the laser away
from Apollo. He laughed, striking Apollo across the face with it, then
pistol-whipped him again. He raised himself up on his knees, pointed the
now safety-less weapon at the Colonial, and...
     Saw stars, as Pili slammed him in the side of the head with a piece
of pipe. The would-be killed "oofed" in pain, and rolled off. Apollo
opened his eyes, and saw a hand reaching down to him. He took it, and got
to his feet. He thanked the girl, though she understood not a word, and
leaned over his opponent, to retrieve his gun. He touched it, then felt
his ribs implode as the other man kicked him in the side, bellowing like
a mad bovine. Apollo fell back, the laser still in his hand, and slapped
hard onto the concrete. The laser went flying off God knew where, and he
tried to rise, only to get another kick from the primitive in the side.
He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain and seeing stars,
rolled, then opened his eyes to see the man advancing on Pili, sword in
hand. Desperately looking around, he at last grabbed a power cell from
his belt, and threw it in the other's face.
     It did the trick, getting the man's attention. Apollo got to his
feet, feeling his ribs as best he could, then turned as Pili said
something. He didn't need to know her language to understand "here" when
he heard it. She tossed him the sword dropped by the dead man, and Apollo
stood for a moment, facing his opponent with a weapon almost six
millennia out of date. Almost at once, she ran away, leaving him with
this hulking killer. He wasn't given time to appreciate it, though, for
with a snarl and a string of what were obviously words one didn't use
during worship, the other attacked.
     Apollo blocked the first blow, the force traveling down his arms,
and making his ribcage scream. He fell back, and the other attacked
again. Apollo ducked, slashing as best he could, drawing first blood as
his blade cut through the leather on the other's left chest. He backed
off as best he could, his breath like fire in his chest, and studied his
foe. Back home, Apollo had been Academy fencing champion his second
yahren, and he tried to remember everything he had ever learned of the
sport. Of course, a crudely hammered broadsword was a far cry from the
foils and sabers he had used in the gym, but when you got right down to
it, a blade was a blade.
     The barbarian attacked again, or rather feinted, but Apollo could
read the man's thoughts in his eyes, and hadn't risen to the bait. Angry,
the other lunged again, bringing the blade down with all his considerable
strength. Apollo parried as best he could, then yanked back. The other
bellowed as a long wound was opened up on his sword arm, and Apollo
followed it up with speed. He swung, was blocked, then slammed upwards
with his knee. The other's breath exploded out of his lungs, and Apollo
fell back. In rage, the other followed, nearly knocking the weapon from
Apollo's grip, cutting upwards, and ripping his jacket open, and cutting
into Apollo's already screaming abdomen. Apollo fell, and the other swung
down, but the Colonial Warrior rolled, hacking at the nearest leg as he
did so. The barbarian bellowed in agony and rage, and hobbled, turning to
face the now upright Apollo once more. His face twisted with utter fury,
he attacked, and Apollo sidestepped him as best he could, swinging his
own blade at the man's unprotected gut. The raider screamed as Apollo
felt the blade connect, ripping into the other man, then yanked it back
as violently as he could. 
     The other stood there, his face a melange of hate, rage, and utter
shock, as he realized what had happened. He tried holding his guts, bile
and blood oozing through his fingers, then rasped out something vile and
hateful. Face twisted with agony, he tried to swing once more, but Apollo
ducked, then spun around as fast as he could. He felt his sword connect,
bone and flesh giving way beneath it...
     And watched in a mixture of fascination and revulsion as the
barbarian's head flew off, to land in a gruesome splash a short distance
away. After a few millicentons, he blinked, and his gaze began to swim as
the adrenaline in his bloodstream stopped climbing.
     He dropped his sword, and grabbed his screaming side. At once, Pili
was there, Starbuck on her arm. The blonde Warrior, laser in hand, was
running towards his Captain.
     "Apollo, you alright?" He took in the scene, the carnage of the dead
man, and his bloodied superior, his face disbelieving.
     "I've...been better!" grunted Apollo. As he spoke, the cavern shook
again, concrete chips raining down from the ceiling.
     "What the frack..."
     "Cassie called, Apollo. She says some kind of giant prehistoric
lizard is out there, flattening the forest.
     "A what?"
 
 
     Cadet Grumio, still in pain and foggy from the medication he'd been
shot full of, tried to sit up, and get to the gun tub atop the Landram.
But try as he might, he could neither move his injured arm, nor gather
the strength to do much with the other one. But he had to. That...thing.
     "Cassiopeia?" he said weakly, as screams and roaring reverberated
outside.
     "It's killing people!" she cried. "Like something out of Hades.
I..."
     "Get me up...to the gun," rasped Grumio.
     In the end, it was Cassie who went. Grumio was too weak from drugs
and loss of blood, but he ran her through it over the intercom. Cassie
had never operated a weapon anything more powerful than a pistol, but now
lives depended on her learning this one in a hurry. She took the gun off
standby, then...
     The huge sauron roared, as it snatched up a helpless human in its
vast maw, the victim disappearing in a single gulp. Although one of those
who had attacked the cave dwellers, Cassie still felt both horror and
grief, that a fellow human should die in such a horrible fashion. She
fought down her bile, and brought the twin barrels around, and took hold
of the grip. She pulled, and the lasers spat forth, striking the
gargantuan beast in the side.
     It roared as if in pain, staggered a bit, then turned to see from
where this attack had come. After a moment or two, it saw her, and
heaving its huge body around, headed towards the Landram.
 
       Chapter 34

     The entire group moved towards the tunnel, heading back out the way
they came. The controls refused to respond, and Apollo didn't want to be
anywhere near when the missile plowed into the roof. They bypassed the
carnage near the blast door, and started on their way up to the cave.
     "I don't get this," said Starbuck. "Giant meat-eating lizards.
Raptons. What kind of crazy planet is this?"
     "One I sure would love to see astern," said Athena. She and Starbuck
supported the nearly comatose Oswy between them. As they mover further up
the tunnel, the structure shook once more. Bits of concrete and conduit
rained down on them from the darkness above.
     "I think we'd all love that," said Boomer. "I'd sure give a lot to
be back in the Rejuvenation Center playing Seven-Eleven."
     "And I'd love a really good Pyramid game..."
     Starbuck stopped, as the tunnel shook yet again, this time much more
violently. More cement and machinery rained down, then there was a loud
explosive crack. A huge block of the cement ceiling crashed across their
path, followed by more hunks of the ancient structure filling the tunnel.
Pili screamed, and Boomer pulled up short. Light from outside poured in
from above, followed by more wreckage. Trees, cement, mud all poured into
the tunnel.
     And through the opening, they could see the huge, obscene giant
carnivore, one massive foot bare metrons from the edge. Apollo ordered
them all back, away from the edge lest more of it slide in on them.

     Cassie wondered aloud what the Hades Hole the monster's hide was
made of. Grumo made some response, but she couldn't make out his weak
words over the din of the blasting guns. She had hit the horrid thing
dead on, and despite the direct hit, the twin laser blasts from the
Landram's guns had seemed to do little more than irritate it. She'd
gotten its attention, but this was hardly an improvement under the
circumstances. It turned to look down at her, its red-stained maw open
in another hideous scream like souls in torment. She stifled a scream of
her own, and fired the weapon again. It struck the towering beast in its
scaly chest, and it staggered a moment, then screamed once more. Behind
it, up in the sky, she could see something flying, a huge winged cousin
of the thing looking down at her, and she couldn't stop shaking. She
fired again, striking the monster's neck, then its lower jaw. It
screamed, whether in pain or fury she couldn't tell, and backed away for
the moment, smashing more trees as it did so.

     "Anyone got any new ideas?" Starbuck said dismally as they came back
into the hangar.
     "Sort of," Boomer offered, "Not a good one, in fact it sucks, but I
think it'd beat being in the tunnel."
     "Go ahead," Apollo motioned, wincing. "We could use some inspiration
about now."
     "As soon as we're back in the launch chamber, I say we empty our
lasers into the jammed launch hatch.  Maybe that'll get it open."
     "Sounds like a big long shot," Apollo grunted. "Our lasers don't
have the power to disintegrate solid material that heavily reinforced."
     "I told you it wasn't a good one, but at least it's an idea," Boomer
smiled without mirth.
     "He's right about that," Starbuck said, "Okay Boom-Boom. Lead on."
     Once back in the missile's launch chamber, Boomer drew his laser,
moved it up to its highest setting, and fired upwards at the jammed
launch hatch. His shot raised a few sparks from the dense concrete, but
the ancient opening moved not a bit. Starbuck and Apollo both joined in,
pouring shot after shot from their pistols into it. After a centon or so,
a few small pieces of cement flaked away, but the hatch remained
stubbornly shut. 
     "If that missile launches, we're in a heap of trouble," said
Starbuck. Athena tried not to roll her eyes at the blithering obvious
logic of his words, decided she would kick him later, and fired another
shot.
     "You sure about that?" asked Boomer, utterly deadpan.
     "Well, if ever there was a really good time for God to prove He
loved me, this would be it," said the blonde Warrior, as the chamber
shook yet again. They resumed firing, and a few more pieces of cement
fell away from the ceiling. However, the hatch remained stubbornly locked
tight.
     "How in Hades can it stand up to..." began Apollo, when the chamber
rocked violently, and they struggled to keep their feet. Some of the
lights shattered and went out, and a big slice of the ceiling cracked
away, crashing to the floor bare metrons away. "More! We need a bigger
hole!" he shouted, and they pumped more laser fire into the weakening
hatch. Then, they all fell to the floor, and a huge boom rumbled through
the hangar, and the hatch fell away with a horrid crack, barely missing
the missile's nosecone as it did so. Light from above poured into the
silo...
     And again, they could see the huge monster, thrashing back and
forth, its hideously clawed feet crushing and destroying everything
under them. As it moved, they could just see lances of orange energy slam
the giant thing, and it tottered away, screaming.

     Cassie did not let up her attack on the hideous carnivore, and
continued firing the guns into it. Whatever its hide was made of, it
seemed to treat laser fire as more of an annoyance than a lethal threat.
But, apparently it had stung the thing badly, for it seemed to twitch,
trying to bat away the whatever it was, with each shot. And, a few places
she'd hit more than once were turning black, sending out a vile stench.
Bit by bit, she was winning.
     One of the flying lizards, attracted by all the noise and carnage,
decided to swoop low, and grab a free meal. It passed mere metrons over
her head, and she ducked, avoiding its extended talons by a mere hands
breadth. She rose up again, as it passed overhead once more, and took
aim. She fired, missed, then fired directly into its open maw. This time,
there was no adamantine hide between her and it. The thing's lower jaw
blew off in a horrid burst of red, and it flipped, plowing into a tree,
pulping itself. Within a heartbeat, the giant thing moved towards it, no
doubt attracted by the stench of blood and flesh. It gulped up the
remains, then turned back, and looked towards her again. Once more, she
fired directly into it...
  
     "Okay," said Starbuck. "Maybe someone does love us, after all." 
     "That's big enough for me," said Boomer. "I think I can fly that
thing through that."
     "Ask and ye shall receive," said Apollo, sparing Starbuck a thin
smile. "Let's..."
     Before he could say another word, a deep rumble began somewhere in
the bowels of the missile, and they were forced to fall back. Smoke and
flame began to vomit up from the machine's base.
     Mong!

       Chapter 35

     Cassie kept firing, pinning the four-storey fright dead on, herding
it into a smaller and smaller area. The laser blasts were finally, it
seemed, beginning to have an effect on her target, as putrid vapors rose
from the impact points, filling the whole jungle with an acrid reek. The
thing lunged at her, maw agape, but was again forced back, nearly
stumbling as it did so. The ground thundered and shook beneath her, and
she could hear cave-ins in the tunnel behind her.
     She could also see the temperature readout on the guns edging
dangerously close to red line. At the rate she was going, it wouldn't be
long until the damn things overheated and shut down, provided they didn't
burn out, first.
     Once more, the monster dipped close, and she fired. It dodged at the
last moment, having perhaps become cautious even by the exceedingly
undemanding standards of giant reptile intelligence, and her shot skimmed
past it. But not quite far enough. The beam's nimbus seared close to the
creature's left eye, and it recoiled, screaming as never before.
     "Got it!" said Grumio, over the headphones. "Good shot, ma'am. We've
got a chance, now."

     The whole chamber shook violently, filling with hot vapors, as the
long-silent engines of the missile roared to life. Fire belched up around
the metal monster, and below, the latches that had held the thing in
place for so many centuries popped loose.
     "How can it possibly be operational??" screamed Starbuck, as the
smoke roiled across to their cover. They had sought refuge behind a
series of shelves, and despite being almost face-to-face, could barely
hear each other. "Something that old?"
     "It's got some sort of solid rocket fuel!" shouted Boomer. "We
scanned it!"
     "WHAT?????"
     "I said we scanned it. Solid fuel, not liquids.  Very stable
over..."
     The rest of his words were lost as the missile began to rise from
its launch pad, heading towards the gaping hole in the ceiling. They all
struggled to maintain their footing, but the vibration was so intense,
Pili fell, crying out, and Kudur-Mabug screamed, covering his ears. They
covered their faces as best they could, as the flaming exhaust blasted
everything around it, turning away both from the brilliant flames, but
the intense heat as well. Apollo covered his sister with his body, as if
instinctually protecting her, gritting his teeth against the burning
sensation on his skin. Just when it seemed he could take no more...
     Both the noise and heat began to subside, and he could hear Starbuck
swearing artistically enough to make Commander Cain blush. The roar of
the old rocket motor was fading now, and he raised up to look.
     The missile had, incredibly, cleared the silo, and made it outside.
Picking themselves up, the entire group moved towards the now-empty
launch complex, and looked up. The rocket was riding its tail of fire,
higher and higher into the alien sky.

     Cassie nearly fell from her seat, as the huge metal war machine
blasted up, out of the jungle, and screamed into the sky. The reptilian
predator, seemingly as startled as she by this sudden intrusion, fell
back into the jungle, leaving her be, at least for the moment. Although
she had seen pictures of weapons like this, both antique and modern,
she'd never been anywhere near one, nor had she expected to be, on this
backwards Stone-Age world. She stopped firing for a moment, at first too
stunned to continue, then realizing her target was gone. Besides, she
just might hit the thing. Lords only knew what it might be.

     "Commander!" said one of the people down in "The Pit," on the
bridge. Adama turned from gazing out the main port, where the
crescent-phased planet was now the size of his fist, and growing larger
by the micron. It was a beautiful world, reminding him much of home, and,
for the umpteenth time, he wished it were Earth.
     "Yes, Petty Officer Wu?" The man was fairly new to the bridge crew,
quite young but very competent, and was presently relieving Omega during
his break.
     "We have a missile launch, Commander!"
     "What?" said Tigh, moving to a monitor with his CO. "From where?"
     "The planet, sir. Coordinates match the location of Lieutenant
Boomer's transmissions." Wu transferred the scans to Adama's station.
Sure enough, the sensors confirmed what he had told them. 
     "A missile?" said Adama. "On this planet?"
     "Is it targeting us?" asked Tigh.
     "Not as yet," replied the young officer. "Missile now at two
killometrons and climbing, sir."
     "Colonel, all pilots to launch bay. Battle stations."
     "Yes, sir."
 
     "Come on!" cried Boomer, as Starbuck continued to look up at the
departing rocket. "We gotta get the Hades outta here!"
     "In that thing?" asked Starbuck, pointing at the scorched, old
shuttle. "You're braver than I thought."
     "Can't be any worse than that bucket you flew back at Proteus."
     "Well, yeah, but..."
     "It'll fly! I'm sure!" shouted Athena. "Now let's go before
something else happens."
     "Come on!" ordered Apollo, and they all piled into the old shuttle,
and sealed the hatch.

       Chapter 36

     Boomer helped the injured Cadet Oswy into a seat, belted him in,
then headed forward into the cockpit. He slid back into the left-hand
seat, and a few moments later, Starbuck joined him on the right. 
     "Boomer, you look like daggit mong."
     "And I'm relieved to see your smiling face as well, Starbuck,"
replied the other, not looking up from the instruments.
     "You sure you know how to fly this old relic?" Starbuck asked, never
able to resist tweaking his friend.
     "Of course not. Would you believe it, the showroom guys forgot to
leave the instruction book on the dash for me."
     "You check the glove compartment?"
     "Nah. Just gloves."
     "Thoughtless of them," replied the other, lighting a fumerello. "So,
we'll fly her together."
     "This is a non-smoking flight."
     "So call Sire Solon and sue me!"
     "Only you would say that," grimaced Boomer, already into the
pre-flight as much as his limited knowledge of the craft permitted. The
controls seemed an odd mixture of the immemoriably archaic, and the
merely ancient. Next to the vid screen was a graphic display of the
craft, showing where the cables from above attached to the ship. Taking a
gamble, he touched the display, where the cables hooked on. Yes! A touch
screen! Saved! It responded by showing him the cables decoupling,
retracting back into wherever. From somewhere above and behind, they
could hear the heavy thud of something moving on the hull.
     "If I read this right," said Starbuck, all pilot now, "we are free
and clear to launch. If she can launch."
     "We'll find out, Buckers. Okay, let's hit it."
     Boomer pressed the large button in front of him, and they felt the
rumble of the shuttle's motors coming to life. Outside, the dust of
centuries was thrown up by the thrusters, momentarily obscuring their
forward view. Lights blinked and indicators beeped, most of which meant
nothing, but slowly Boomer pushed the yoke-shaped throttle forward. 
     Bang!
     "We're supposed to go up, Boomer."
     "Don't spoil my concentration, okay?"
     "Me? Spoil your..."
     "You realize of course that you're sitting on an ejection seat,
Buckers."
     "Just trying to scatter sunshine everywhere I go, Boomer."
     "Starbuck?"
     "Yo?"
     "Quite, or I'll tell Cassie your nickname on the Atlantia."
     "Uhh..."
     Starbuck fell silent for the moment, but didn't miss Boomer's smile.
Starbuck knew his friend far too well, as did Boomer him. Starbuck was so
glad, indeed so relieved, to see his old friend alive and well he wanted
to bust, but he wasn't the type to show it. As always, the blonde Warrior
treated his deepest and most serious feelings with a cavalier, almost
buffoonish air, that belied the very serious person within. It was a
cover, built up over the yahrens, and they both knew it, and both
understood it. Frothy, high-flown words were not needed.  
     Outside through the ports, they could see the ship begin to move,
upwards this time, the interior of the old hangar falling away. Boomer
kept her as level as he could, letting the ship rise, higher and higher,
until they were clear of the gaping roof.
     Clang! 
     Almost clear. Both the nose of the craft, and one of the old-style
aft thruster bells scraped the jagged concrete, but the ship continued
her ascent. Then, as if a curtain had been opened, they were outside once
more, in the sun.

     "It will be alright!" Athena said to Pili, as the cave woman cried
out in either fear or shock, as the noise reverberated through the ship.
Next to her Oswy was motionless, his breathing ragged and shallow now,
and on the other side, Apollo was examining the small control pad next to
his seat. He pressed something, and a screen came to life on the
bulkhead in front of them. It was a feed from whatever camera or sensor
was mounted on the front of the ship. It showed the thick tangle of
jungle, and then the open sky.
     "We're out!" said Apollo, and gave his sister the thumbs up. She
returned it, and watched the landscape of the planet spread out before
them. She turned, and for a moment regarded the shuttle's two other,
long-dead occupants. While she wasn't a superstitious sort, she
nevertheless found the empty eye-sockets disturbing, unable to shed the
feeling that, eyeless though they were, they were watching her
nonetheless. At last turning away, she grabbed the tarp that had fallen
from one of the crates, and tossed it over the two bony passengers,
thereby both relieving her unease, and showing them some tiny modicum of
respect.

     Cassie was busy catching up on her breathing, since the huge monster
had not yet reappeared. She fervently hoped it had learned its lesson,
and would stay away. She stood her post a little longer, then decided at
last to go down inside the Landram, and check on her patient. But, no
sooner had she moved, when her phones crackled to life once more. It was
the Galactica! Another shuttle was on approach, having just launched with
a full Special Forces team.
     She also turned, hearing the roar of the ancient craft, climbing out
of the jungle, like the rocket, on hot jets of flame. The ship rose to
tree top level, then, in a surprisingly smooth transition, her nose
lifting up, she slowly began to gain altitude.

       Chapter 37

     The old shuttle craft continued to move forward, gradually gaining
velocity, reminding both Boomer and Starbuck of training flights during
their early Academy days. Despite its age and long abandonment, it
handled surprisingly well, and they soon found themselves growing at ease
with the controls.
     "This scanner seems to be working fairly well," said Starbuck,
working to get the feel of the instrument. Like the scanner in a Viper,
it gave a sweep of everything in front of them. Unfortunately, he
couldn't read any of the symbols popping up on the screen. "At least I
think so. A Cylon unit is easier to read."
     "So are the scribbles the kids give Athena in instructional period.
Any sign of that missile, Starbuck?"
     "Uhh...I think so. She's still climbing, her course starting to
arc."
 
     "What's the missile's projected point of impact, Colonel?" asked
Adama, on the Galactica's bridge. The whole Fleet had just settled into a
high orbit of the planet.
     "Given the missile's current course and speed, sir," replied Tigh,
"it will come down approximately nine thousand kilometrons from its
launch site. On the coast of one of the other continents." He pointed to
the projected impact site, on Adama's monitor. 
     "Inhabited?"
     "Unknown, sir." Tigh turned to Wu, and ordered a scan of the region,
currently just falling astern of the Battlestar. It was about half a
centar from dawn at the target zone, and they waited while the machinery
did its job.
     "Picking up life signs, sir. Human." He zoomed in on the area,
enhancing the image as he did so. "A considerable settlement, sir. In the
thousands. I'm also picking up signs of extensive ruins, sir, both on and
just below the surface. But beyond infrared signatures of numerous small
fires, probably cooking hearths or lamps of some kind, no indication of
presently active advanced technology, sir."
     "The missile must be following its original programmed course," said
Adama. "Altitude?"
     "Twenty-nine point six seven kilometrons, sir. And climbing."
     "Amazing that it still..."
     "Sir!" cried Wu. "The missile!"

     Deep within the missile's inner machinery, the ancient circuits
hummed and clicked. All was well with the ancient war machine. Its
sensors showed nothing amiss, its main processor keeping it on course,
its transmitter continued radioing telemetry back to its long-gone
masters. Every motor firing as it ought, every circuit working as it had
been designed to. The internal chrono told the computer it was time to
jettison the first satge, and the signal was sent out to the explosive
bolts...
     One of which failed to respond. The missile wobbled, and sparks
began belching from a bank of circuits, thrusters began to sputter, and
the missile began trailing smoke.

     Cassie looked up at the sound of a shuttle. A Colonial one, this
time. While built on the same chassis as the others, this shuttle was a
breed apart from the rest, being deliberately intended for a slugging
match. She sported laser guns forward, aft, and on each side. Just above
her landing gear were hard points, bristling with rockets and smart
ordnance, and she carried enough ECM gear to choke a BaseShip. The Mark X
Combat Shuttle was capable of going in, putting some major hurt on the
bad guys, and getting her crew out in something like one piece. It had
replaced the older Mark IX, bare sectons before the declaration of
"peace," and the false Armstice. The new units, delivered to each
Battlestar by cargo ship, had been broken down and packed, awaiting
assembly. With "peace" so close, Adama had not seen to their uncrating,
then in the blind rush to escape the Destruction, it was overlooked in
the midst of so many other things. When Arcta, and the horrific Ravishol
pulsar had loomed ahead, Adama ordered their assembly, but time was an
unaffordable luxury, and the hastily assembled team had departed in one
of the standard shuttles. Never again! Adama told himself, and the new
machines had proven themselves in the assault on the Gamoray fuel depots.
Now the Galactica sported both the equipment, as well as the Elite Team,
required for such missions. It looked like a regular shuttle pumped up on
steron drugs, muscle-bound and uglier than Imperious Leader, but Cassie
had never been so glad to see a ship since Carillon. 
     The shuttle landed in the clearing in front of the cave, her VTOL
thrusters sending up billowing clouds of dust and smoke. Before the
engines had even powered down, her hatch had dropped, and her crew of
Elite Forces troops spewed forth, at once taking charge of the area. Many
of the natives, attackers and attacked, cried out in fear and
astonishment, some of the erstwhile attackers heading into the jungle,
but Cassie tried to explain. These were the good guys. There were at
least of dozen of them, all armed to the teeth, and wearing heavy armor
and other equipment. One had his helmet visor up, and she recognized him.
Croft, returned to both freedom and duty by Adama, after the Arcta
mission.
     Before the Holocaust, Croft had been a highly decorated Elite Forces
Warrior before being cashiered and sent to prison for not sharing the
considerable booty from a nearly suicidal mission with his superior
officers. After his return from Arcta, Adama had tasked him with
recruiting and training a new Elite Forces team. With "peace" on the
horizon, the team normally carried by each Battlestar had been ordered to
stand down, and they had fled the Colonies without one. Croft had, all
agreed, done superbly in his task, and to Cassie it looked as though he
was thoroughly relishing this chance to get back into action.
     "What's the situation?" he asked her. 
     "I think it's stable here----"
     The sound of weapons fire nearby cut her off. One of the Warriors
had taken down a rapton foolish enough to try and make a meal out of one
of the wounded, but otherwise, there was no resistance.
     "Correction," she said, deciding it was time for some black humor,
"Now it's stable." They both smiled, then Cassiopeia spotted the familiar
figure of Sergeant Castor. She could remember him taking part in the
assault team that had secured the fuel depots on Gamoray, after she had
herself taken part in the infiltration mission to sabotage the Cylon
outer capital's scanners. This was the kind of work she always felt the
muscular Security Guard was more cut out for than his regular duties of
security patrols aboard the Galactica.
     "Area's secured, Colonel," Castor said, stopping to briefly salute
the commando leader.
     "Thank you Sergeant," Croft said, feeling a twinge of satisfaction
that Castor had used his old rank from before his imprisonment, even
though technically he was listed on the roster as a Major. All done to
avoid the possibility of causing a conflict with the Galactica's executive
officer, who was the only active-duty warrior in the Fleet with the
official rank of Colonel.
     "Elite Leader to med shuttle," he pressed his minicom, "Assume
operations mode immediately with Med-Tech Cassiopeia to assist her in
stabilizing and transporting the injured." Millicentons later, six
additional med-techs had emerged carrying full equipment, and with a sigh
of relief, Cassiopeia found she could move away from Grumio and let the
others take over. She sighed deeply, rubbing her eyes. 
     "Looks like you've had a long day," Castor smirked.
     "That is the understatement of the millennia!"  Cassie rolled her
eyes as she leaned back against the side of the Landram. "This planet is
a total fracking madhouse! Giant carnivorous lizards, cavemen with
spears. It's enough to drive me to drink."
     "Well if it comes to that, make sure you only get driven to the good
stuff," said the other, chuckling. He handed her his field canteen, and
she drank. She hadn't realized just how thirsty she was, and soon it was
all gone. Castor looked at his empty canteen, and then laughed. The
fellow was tall, of very athletic build with arms like heavy steel beams,
and a man well-respected by almost everyone in the Fleet, pilots and
shipboard personnel alike. "Boomer come through okay? I wouldn't want my
best triad partner ever to be unable to play the next match."  
     "Down that tunnel, so I understand." She pointed into the gloom
behind the Landram. "Apollo and Starbuck went after him and Athena."
     "Not anymore. He was flying that relic that just launched."
     "That old shuttle? You're kidding me."
     "Not a bit. He's got Starbuck, Apollo, Athena, that injured cadet,
and two natives on board. We heard, just as we touched down. He's going
to try and make it up to the Galactica with..." Castor stopped, as the
speaker in his helmet began to chatter. His face went from pleasant, to
worried, to fearful. Cassie asked him what was wrong.
     "That missile that launched? It's malfunctioned."
     "Malfunctioned? How?"
     "I don't know, but it's heading right back here!" 

     Chapter 38

     "Altered course?" said Adama. "How?"
     "Some sort of internal malfunction, sir," said Wu, "according to the
scans. She's heading roughly back to where she launched from."
     "Can we hit it from here?" asked Tigh. "Or use the shield like we
did on Terra?"
     "No sir. We'd have to alter our position over the planet, and a ship
this big just isn't nimble enough. We don't have the time. And there is
worse, sirs."
     "How worse?" asked Adama.
     "Scanners say that somehow, that warhead has armed itself. Maybe it
was supposed to, or maybe it's a malfunction, but that warhead is hot,
sir. And even if Vipers went after her right now, her altitude would be
low enough that the explosion would kill everyone for at least twenty
killometrons around, sir. Including the pilots. The scanners estimate the
yield at approximately thirty to forty megatons."

     "Everyone! Into the shuttle!" shouted Croft, as his eyes scanned his
perimeter one final time. Though he could not see the missile, he knew
that wouldn't last, and had no intention of being here when it returned.
He didn't know if its warhead was still functional, but Croft wasn't
about to take any chances. "C'mon!" he bellowed once more. "On the
double! Let's go!" 
     Cassie followed his lead, trying to herd her charges into the
shuttle, and helped one of the corpsmen carry Grumio into the vehicle,
placing his litter in its berth. Many of the natives were fearful, not
understanding her language, but for most, the Colonial uniform had come
to have great meaning, and after all, she and the others had saved them
from both the raptons, and the marauders both. After a few moments, they
got the idea, and did as she asked. It was a tight fit, the Mark X not
being built for much in the way of roominess or comfort, but somehow she
found spaces for them all. The cave dwellers, not surprisingly, wanted to
refuse admittance to their erstwhile enemies, and she left them to work
their own kind of justice. 
     "Okay, hit it!" ordered Croft before he was even in his seat, and
Castor fired the engines. With a rumble and shake, the combat machine
lifted off, somewhat slower than usual, given the extra weight, and they
left the clearing behind.

     "Boomer..."
     "Yeah, I see it, Starbuck," said the other, never taking his eyes of
the instruments before him. "Don't know what the Hades Hole we can do
about it." Boomer slapped the dash angrily. "Frack, this old gamma
frequency crud! I..."
     "Boomer, does this tub have any weapons?"
     "Yeah. Didn't you see the hard points and the laser emitter on her
hull?"
     "I didn't exactly give her the hundred centar check, Boomer. Do we
have a functional weapon?" Boomer checked, and came back in the
affirmative. Starbuck began to slowly smile that infuriating Starbuck
smile of his, the sort which one usually got aimed their way just before
the blonde Warrior bankrupted his Pyramid opponents, and told Boomer to
fire the old weapon's controls up. The other did so, then Starbuck
grabbed the control yoke. 
     "What are you doing, Starbuck?"
     "Hang on," said Starbuck around his smoldering fumerello, and took
control of the old ship.
 
     "I don't believe this!" said Tigh, looking at the scanners.
"Commander, that old shuttle has changed course. Instead of heading here,
he's headed back down into the atmosphere, on a course towards the
missile!"
     "Towards it? What is that...Starbuck!" Adama scowled, pounding a
fist on the arm of his chair, and wondering what insane scheme Starbuck
had up his card-stuffed sleeve this time. It was like Carillon all over
again. "Try and get me that shuttle, on the gamma frequency, Colonel.
Now!"
     "Yes sir!"
 
     The Mark X roared away from the clearing at near-treetop level,
clawing for altitude, but the nearly tripling of the mass she's launched
with was slowing her climb. Castor was pouring it on, and with her
thrusters bellowing, she cleared the last of the tree tops, finally began
to arc upwards. Castor smiled, satisfied at the feeling of the machine
responding under his touch, then it faded from his face as he got a
reading on his scanner.
     "Sir!" he called to his CO. Croft swore, then swore again.
     At least five of the giant flying fire-belching reptiles were headed
their way. 
     "Arm all weapons!" ordered Croft.
 
     Apollo thought he would lose whatever food might still be left
inside, at the sudden wild moves the old shuttle suddenly started
performing. He couldn't find the intercom switch, after removing one very
smelly caveman from his lap, so he ran forward. The native craft's
inertial damping, he decided as he was tossed about, certainly wasn't
going to win any awards in the engineering department. The cockpit door
opened at his approach, and he saw what he had somehow expected to see;
Starbuck flying the shuttle. And flying it like it was a kid's ride at an
amusement park.
     "Starbuck!? What the Hades..."
     "Apollo. Hold on."
     Apollo did so, grabbing one of the handgrips over the hatch, and
looked out the viewports. The missile was visible now, bisected by the
curvature of the horizon, and the upper atmosphere, her first stage
booster finally having shaken loose from the rocket. The second stage
was trying to fire, but the thrusters were intermittent, and smoke
trailed from her side, presumably from the onboard instruments and
guidance system. Starbuck studied the targeting system a few moments, all
the while the surface drew closer, the swath of green that was the jungle
growing larger by the micron. Beyond, on the edge of the horizon, was the
vast blue expanse of the sea. Starbuck had her lined up, when the radio
crackled. Though staticky, it was unmistakably Adama's voice.
     And the warhead was hot!

     So was Croft's shuttle. With surprising speed, one of the winged
firedrakes got close enough to attack, and its flames licked the
shuttle's aft thrusters closely. Too closely for Castor's liking, as he
banked to try and avoid the horrid thing. No sooner had he done so, when
another one made a run at them from port, mouth agape in belching flames.
This time, the hideous thing found a mark. A warning light on the
controls began blinking, and an alarm to sound. 
     "What is it?" cried Cassie, trying to keep the natives from
panicking. They were familiar with the dragons, but they'd never seen one
from the air before, and they were terrified.
     "Landing gear actuator," replied Castor. "Starboard side. I think it
may be out, Cassie." As he spoke, Castor prepared to reply to their
attacker. "Hold on, back there!" As another of the nightmarish creatures
drew close, jaws agape he flipped up a bank of switches, and then
grinned. "Chew on this, snitrad breath!"

     "But we can't just let it come down! All those people!"
     "If we blast it, it'll kill us too," said Boomer. "We're way too
close Starbuck. We have to..." He stopped, as a thought came to his mind.
He looked at Starbuck, and the other got that smile again. "Yeah. It
might work!"
     "Then let's do it!" said Starbuck, never losing his Pyramid grin.
     "Huh?" said Apollo, looking from one to the other, and feeling more
lost by the micron.
     "Hang on!" cried Starbuck, and grabbed the control yoke again,
making the old ship wail.

     "HE'S WHAT???" bellowed Adama. "Lords of Kobol, if he makes it back
here, I'll have that...that maniac cleaning out  pump filters on the
refuse barge for a yahren!!!!"
 
      Chapter 39

     "Here, you flying freak!" said Croft, as he fired one of the
shuttle's air-to-air missiles at the oncoming firedrake. "See how you
like this." The rocket hit it right below the open maw, and ripped the
thing's head asunder. Castor threw his chief a thumbs-up.
     "Lords of Kobol, that's gotta hurt!" quipped Castor, as the flaming
remains of the avian predator tumbled from the sky. Some of the other
dragons fell back momentarily from this strange creature that stung back,
but they didn't remain so for long, driven by either hunger or stupidity.
Another of them made a run, belching horrific heat at the shuttle, but
this time Croft was ready. One of the shuttle's lasers was primed and
hot, and sheared the monster's right wing off. With a scream they could
hear inside the shuttle, it tumbled spinning from the sky to crash into
the prairie below.
     "Bet that hurt, too," grinned one of the other men.
     "What's that?" asked Croft, turning to the injured Grumio.
     "I said, 'Colonials two, Monsters zero, sir,' sir."
     "That's the spirit, Cadet!" smiled Croft.
     "Sir!" called another Warrior, pointing. "Here comes another one!"

     "Starbuck, are you totally fracking insane?" cried Apollo, as what
the Lieutenant was planning to do suddenly sunk in. "You kill all of..."
     "Not if this works!" replied Starbuck, and banked the shuttle some
more. Directly ahead, the missile was now almost close enough to reach
out and touch, which seemed to be Starbuck's intention. Edging her speed
up, he brought the shuttle almost even with the sputtering missile, and
then slid right under it. "Yeah," he said, to himself as much as the
rest. After a few moments, a dull thunk vibrated through the old ship.
     "Starbuuuuuuck!"
     "Hey, it's just like Carillon old buddy."
     "What?" Apollo wasn't sure if either pilot was still sane. "Boomer?"
     "Only this one isn't shooting back at us," finished Starbuck,
puffing out a vast waft of smoke, and pulling up on the controls.
     "We're doing it!" said Boomer.

     "He must be utterly certifiable!!" said Tigh, on the Galactica
bridge. 
     "It seems to be working, though," offered Wu. "The missile is
gaining altitude, sirs. He's actually using that ship to nudge the
missile away from the area."
     "I don't believe it," said Tigh, looking from Wu, to Adama, and then
back to the scanners. "He's using that shuttle as a replacement guidance
and thruster system. My God, who in Hades but Starbuck?" 
     "Yes.  Who but Starbuck?" said Adama, with a growl, brows lowering.
"If they end up dying...I'll kill him!"
     "Missile is at nineteen point four killometrons sir, and rising.
He's doing it, sirs! He's actually doing it!"
     "I'll kill him," rasped Adama.

     Croft fired once more, but the dragon, either by chance or because
something in its tiny brain had actually finally learned something,
swerved at the last instant, and the laser missed by shuttle's length at
least. Croft swore, and retargeted. As if on cue, another of the beasts
came at them from above and behind, apparently its natural mode for
attacking airborne prey, and belched flames at the shuttle. The craft
shuddered, and another light flashed on the controls, but Castor kept her
flying steady.
     "Overload in the laser control circuit, sir!" reported another
Warrior. "Burn out imminent."
     "Frack it!" spat Croft, and fired anyway. The orange sabers of
energy lanced out, and this time did not miss, one shearing one of the
firedrake's legs off, the other sending its guts spewing in all
directions. Some of it unfortunately to incarnadine the shuttle itself.
     "That seems to be it, sir," said Castor, indicating his scope. "The
rest are breaking off."
     "Finally got it through their thick skulls I guess."
     "Or we're just too high to follow, sir."
     "Altitude?"
     "Four point six killometrons and climbing, sir."
     "Damage report."
     "One maneuvering thruster not responding, but I can compensate for
about eighty percent of that, sir. Still red light on that landing gear.
I may have to use the manual release when we come in for landing,
Colonel."
     "Excellent, Castor." Croft looked out the ports, and could see the
curvature of the planet now becoming obvious below them, the atmosphere
darkening above. Now that they were free of attackers, Croft was pouring
it on, and the overloaded shuttle was finally gaining some serious
altitude. Croft looked back at his charges, and smiled his slight smile.
"Excellent job, men. You've acquitted yourselves well, each and every one
of you. I'm putting you all in for a unit citation." Several of the men
acknowledged their chief, then he looked to Cassie. "You too,
Cassieopeia. You deserve something for this."
     "Just doing my job, Colonel." 
     "So were we all, Cassieopeia," replied Croft, pleased that she had
also addressed him by his old rank. "And the ambrosia's on me!" Needless
to say, there were cheers all around. Then Croft slowly pushed his helmet
back a bit, and leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. Only
one thing bothered him still.
     Where was that other ship?
 
     The missile slowly gained altitude, the old shuttle's frame groaning
a bit as she strained under the extra weight. Already, said the
instruments, her engines were edging close to the danger line,
threatening to overheat if this kept up.
     As they climbed, Starbuck was also slowly turning their odd
combination of flying machines, heading away from the inhabited areas
below, as they gained height. Boomer read off the altitude to him, and he
hoped the other was translating the alien measurements somewhat
correctly. If his nutty plan was going to actually work, he'd need to
know where the Hades he was in relation to the planet's surface.
     Twenty kill, and climbing. Come on baby, give me all you got.
Twenty-one. Yeah! Twenty-two. Just a little bit more, honey. 
     "Satrbuck, she's at red-line now! We can't..."
     "Just a couple more centons, Boomer."
     "But the motor..."
     "Now!" shouted Starbuck, and he yanked on the yoke in an ugly way.
They all struggled to stay oriented, as the shuttle rolled, and then
pulled away, leaving the missile on its own now. Almost as if waiting
for a cue, the rocket's last stage tried to fire, but Starbuck banked
them out of harm's way, and left the old war machine behind.
     "I don't believe this!" said Apollo, watching. The shuttle was
already several kilometrons from the rocket, which was now starting to
lose altitude again, arcing down, rather messily, towards the surface.
Only this time, the end-point of the weapon's arc would be over the wide
expanse of uninhabited ocean, far from any significant land mass. Apollo
shook his head, wondering for the umpteenth time just where Starbuck got
his inspiration for these crazy schemes of his.
     "Okay Boomer, let's haul it."
     "Right you are," said Boomer, pulling back on the yoke and the
shuttle started gaining altitude. "Looks like we are going to make it."
     But will we be out of blast range in time? he wondered to himself.
 
     "This is one for the books!" said Tigh, watching the drama being
played out below. The alien shuttle had detached from the dying rocket,
and was headed for space once more. They all watched, as the old craft
put distance between itself and the warhead. The two dots on the scanner
moved farther and farther apart, but it seemed painfully slow to Adama,
never forgetting that his children were inside that old rattletrap.
     "Come on!" said Tigh, as the shuttle climbed higher and higher.
"Come on, lean on it, Starbuck!"

     "We'll be out of the atmosphere in one centon, mark," said Boomer,
beginning to hope.

     Below, the malfunctioning missile gained speed, screaming towards
the surface of the planet as its final stage thrusters joined forces with
gravity. The damaged instruments detected the surface rapidly
approaching. Faster and faster the old rocket shrieked down from the
azure vault, sending birds and other creatures fleeing in terror. Closer
and closer it came, the sea drawing ever nearer, until the
barely-functioning terrain-following sensors detected some tiny speck of
land amidst the water.  The missile tried to turn, then...
 
      Ch. 40
 
     Castor turned away suddenly, as one of his monitors dissolved into a
blinding purple-white blossom of unimaginable fire. He squeezed his eyes
shut, gritting his teeth against the sudden pain, and slammed his visor
down over his face just as the camera quit.
     "Hang on!" said Croft, as the edge of the first shockwave hit the
shuttle. It bucked like a small boat on a windy sea, but Castor strove to
keep her on course. The Elite Forces leader then managed to glance over
at him, "Is she holding steady?"
     "I'm not letting this baby get away from me!" he said with
determination as he put all his strength into holding the controls so the
shuttle would stay on course. Sparks flew from one bank of switches, but
otherwise there was no serious damage. The natives, totally ignorant of
what was going on about them, started to panic, and Cassie did her best
with the Languatron to keep things from boiling over. Then, after a few
more microns, the stomach-churning shaking stopped, and the shuttle
settled down.
     Boomer saw the eruption of unholy radiance from the stern monitor on
the old shuttle, but no shockwave reached them, now beyond the planet's
envelope of air. The horrifically beautiful fountain of fire spread over
the surface below, then began to climb higher into the alien sky.  

     "Oh my God!" said Adama, as the view astern was dumped to his
monitor. For a centon, it looked as if another sun was coming out from
behind the limb of the planet. As predicted, the ancient warhead's yield
was enormous, in excess of forty megatons of nuclear death, and Adama
couldn't help shaking his head. It was incredible that a weapon so old
could have still been any kind of serious danger. If it had come down
where the computer had predicted, before the shuttle had cleared the
region...
     "Status of the shuttles, Wu?"
     A long micron went by before the young man looked up from his
console with a grin.  "All present and accounted for and cleared to land
in Alpha Bay in a few centons!" 
     "The Lords be praised!" For the first time in a long while, the
Commander felt the weight lift from his shoulders. "Colonel Tigh, assume
the con," said Adama with a smile. "I'm on my way to Alpha Bay! Notify
Dr. Salik to have a full med-team standing by as well!"
     "Yes sir!" Tigh grinned, and pressed the IC.
 
     The pillar of atomic fire rose almost ten killometrons into the
cloudless alien sky, instantly incinerating everything in its path.
Below, trillions of litrons of once-placid seawater were instantly
transformed into steam, the suction pulling up billions of litrons more,
along with countless hapless sea creatures caught in the hellish
maelstrom. Within microns, an area of that sea of more than a hundred
square killometrons was reduced to a searing mass of radioactive vapor,
sucked up into the still burning nuclear column. The actinic brilliance
was seen by eyes, human and otherwise, beyond the curve of the horizon,
and the blast heard a thousand killometrons away as the sea continued
to boil and boil and boil.

     Adama was already in the control station with Alpha Bay's LSO,
overlooking the landing deck, as the alien shuttle came through the
atmospheric force filed. It was a strange-looking ship, with an
arrow-shaped cockpit forward, a now very  dirty white fuselage, and
antique thruster bells in the rear. But it was functional, and it had
saved his son and daughter from what might well have been certain death
in the nuclear firestorm below. He stepped down from the control booth,
and headed towards the craft, now coming to rest on her oddly squared
landing gear. A Security team was moving into position, but he waved them
away. This was no alien invasion.
     'Thank God none of the Council are here.'
     The hatch in the port side of the craft opened, and Athena stuck her
head out of the ship. She at once  caught sight of her father, and leapt
down before the small steps had deployed, running towards him, the two
embracing in a very un-military fashion.
     "Commander!" said Apollo, following close behind his sister. After
following his sister's example, Apollo told him of the wounded Cadet Oswy
still aboard.
     "Dr. Salik and a team is on the way, Apollo. My God, you look a
sight!" he said, indicating his son's bedraggled appearance. Then, as if
on cue, the Doctor and two of his interns appeared, and headed towards
the shuttle. Adama watched as the wounded man was carried out on a
gurney, followed by Starbuck, Boomer, and two of the wildest, most
unkempt people he had ever seen. Adama glowered at Starbuck, who seemed
to suddenly find an excuse to duck behind one of the interns, and then he
heard Athena shout "NO!" at one of the guards. Corporal Lomas, who had
led the contingent of Council Security guards down to the Landing Bay had
his pistol trained squarely on the two strangers.
     "It's okay!" she said reassuringly, which made Lomas and the others
relax and lower their weapons. Kudur-Mabug had, cautiously, stepped off
the ship his ancestors had built, still holding his hunting spear, a
flint knife, as well as a captured metal sword thrust through his leather
belt. "Please. It's alright." 
     "Yeah," Boomer added, hand raised. After looking at Adama for
confirmation, Lomas reholstered his weapon, and the guards back away.
Athena took her father's hand, and brought him to the newcomers. Boomer
joined them, and made introductions. "Sir, this is Pili." The woman
seemed to be in awe of Adama on seeing him up close, and bowed in
respect, going down on one knee. Adama repeated her name, and she raised
her head. He motioned her to rise, which she did, and then spoke, of
which he grasped not a word. "And this is Kudur-Mabug, sir. They saved my
life when my Viper went down and I had to eject into the jungle."
     "Then you have my thanks, uh, Pili. Kudur-Mabug. Welcome aboard the
Battlestar Galactica." Just then, Colonel Tigh's voice over the IC
announced the approach of the Mark X shuttle, on course for Alpha Bay,
and would be landing in two centons. Adam smiled, glad to at last have
everyone back, when once more the primitives spoke, and he looked from
the cave dwellers to Athena, Languatron in hand. He cocked an eyebrow in
question. She looked at the readout, then up at him. She seemed to
hesitate.
     "Athena?"
     "Umm..."
     "What is it?"
     "He wants to know which one of the gods you are, Commander."
     For once, the Commander of the Fleet was speechless.

      Chapter 41

     Adama let the report fall from his fingers onto his desk, and rose,
slowly moving to the port. He looked out at the unfamiliar spray of
stars, wishing just for a micron that they were the stars of home, then
let his eyes fall to the planet below. It had been four days, planetwise,
since the detonation of the ancient nuclear weapon, and the rescue of the
people below. Right now, they were passing over the impact sight, and
apart from an unsettled, muddy smear on the surface, the sea looked as
placid as before. A massive weather system had moved into the jungle
area, and had only cleared this morning, finally allowing teams to
recover the damaged shuttle, the Landram, and the camouflaged Vipers.
Even Boomer's ejected cockpit, and pieces of his crashed fighter were
salvaged. Nothing in the Fleet, not even half-melted scraps, could be
wasted. Nor could any obvious traces of the Colonial Fleet's presence be
left behind to conceivably offer any clues one day to any Cylon force
that might wander into the area.
     But for the first time since Gamoray, abundance would be the
problem, not scarcity. Intense and detailed scans of the planet, its
moons, and much of the rest of this solar system had shown it to be a
veritable treasure house. Minerals that had been somewhat rare in the
Colonies, needed for vital electronic and mechanical parts, as well as
basic repairs and maintenance, were to be found in abundance here. Not
just basic ores, cupric, iron, tin and the like, but rare metals and
crystals, and, much to Adama's relief, tylium. Several of the asteroids
showed significant tylium signatures, and teams had already been
dispatched to mine it. After some consideration, and a report from
long-range patrols that their wake was still clear, Adama had consented
to Wilker's request to send teams down, to study this world's ruins in
more depth. Even after only a single day of work, the archaeologists were
reporting back in something like near-delirium. They had found enough
work to keep an entire University of scholars busy for a century, but had
also found records.
     Which brought up another interesting discovery. Each of the planet's
moons had been visited sometime in the past, as evidenced by the
long-abandoned installations found there, as well as silent mining works
on several major asteroids. The inhabitants had, it seemed, been fairly
advanced, reaching out into space once more, when whatever had triggered
the destruction of their civilization had put a halt to everything. And
in his preliminary report on the shuttle, Wilker had gone into near
endless ecstasies of techno-babble.
     "It seems the ship was powered by a quantum nucleonic reactor,
Commander! Can you believe it?" the chief scientist had begun, excited as
a child. "An X-ray generator, focused on a matrix of hafnium 178,
producing a nearly sixty-fold increase in the amounts of gamma-ray
energy..."
     "I remember the basic theory," *1* Adama had said at last, holding
up a hand, lest Wilker continue interminably. "Standard science
curriculum in primary school, if you recall, Doctor. What else?"
     "Our Life Sciences teams have so far found thirty-seven species of
plants known to us from the Colonies, forty-four different animals, nine
birds, sixteen aquatic species. Cadet's Oswy's assessment was correct,
sir. Settlers from Kobol did indeed stop here."
     "Any idea how long?"
     "The oldest ruins radiometric date out at around seven millennia,
dovetailing with the Exodus from the homeworld. The most recent
structures date to about five to six hundred years later. We've detected
the remains of twenty-seven major cities so far, all but four showing
signs of atomic destruction."
     "Any clues yet as to the cause?'
     "Well, we've only just started to decipher the records found in the
bunker where the missile was launched from, and we haven't come close to
the rest yet."
     Adama had thanked him, and let the scientist get on down to the
surface. He looked up for a moment at one of the moons. They had, it
seemed, escaped attacks, and as no bodies were found in the lunar bases,
it was presumed that their crews had returned home. But their computers
had been full of data. Data, Adama mused. History files, books, an entire
library in one blasted city with huge rooms full of computers and tapes,
hopefully still intact. Anything that could fill in their woefully scanty
knowledge of the long-lost 13th Tribe, and what had happened to it after
contact was lost with the other refugees during the voyage from Kobol. 
     Refugees, yes. He considered for a moment the people Boomer had
rescued from the planet. 27 in all, and existing at a level that made the
old shuttle look like the Ship of Lights by comparison. It had taken some
time to convince, at least he hoped  he had convinced them, that neither
he, nor anyone else in the Fleet were, in actuality, gods. Not even
close. They continued, especially the girl, Pili, and her young man,
Kudur-Mabug, to treat Boomer especially with an almost ecclesiastical
reverence, and after he had been discharged from Life Station, Boomer had
been spending a great deal of time with them. This was double-edged,
Adama decided. Boomer, in cooperation with Athena and two linguists from
crypto, had succeeded in creating a translation matrix for the alien
language. As Boomer had theorized, it did indeed resemble the ancient
speech once used on Kobol, and not just superficially. It had had
considerable time to evolve and change, yes, but it was clearly the
modern version of that once used by the priestly caste in the ancient
city of Eden.
     But what to do with them, he mused on. Medical exams had shown that
they were basically healthy, apart from their injuries and a rather
restrictive diet. But they could hardly go back to where they had been
rescued from. According to their leader, the short but massively-muscled
hunter named Utu-Hegal, they had once been a much larger people, several
related tribal groups in fact, before the Iginim, the "Enemy," had begun
encroaching on the forest, and raiding their settlements, killing the
men, enslaving the children, and raping the women without mercy. The
cave, which had turned out to be the long-decayed entrance to the old
bunker, had been their last redoubt. The Commander scowled, disappointed.
First Terra, now this world. Just what sort of people were the 13th
Tribe? It turned Adama's stomach to think that any human being could act
in this way, even after a lifetime's evidence to the contrary, but then
if this world had the Iginim, the Colonies had Baltar.
     "Some things are eternal it seems," he said to himself. His chime
sounded, and he turned away from the port. "Come."  The door opened, and
it was Boomer, looking a lot  more presentable than when he had been
rescued, and Athena, also much cleaner. "Yes?" Adama waited a beat. Since
her return, he had sensed something... different in his daughter, but
had had a lot of other things to think upon.
     "We just came from the Ngishgi, sir," said Boomer, using the
primitive's own name for themselves, holding one seat for Athena, then
taking the other for himself. 
     "And how are they?" asked Adama, resuming his seat behind his desk.
     "Doing quite well, as far as I can tell, " said Boomer. "Dr. Salik
says they are in pretty good condition, considering, and I managed to
make them understand that medical treatment would be a good thing. They
lost their tribal healer in one of those raids, sir."
     "So I read in your report. So, what is to be done?"
     "Well, they want to go home, sir, as you can imagine, and we've,
Athena and I, have been explaining to them why to return to that jungle
would mean death for them."
     "You're not suggesting we take them with us are you?" asked Adama.
     "No sir," said Athena, "but we have been looking at the scans of the
surface, and we think we've found a place they could be resettled."
     "Indeed, " said Adama, leaning back. "Tell me more." 
-----------------------------------------------
     1. Jim Wilson, "Atomic Wings" Popular Mechanics (May, 2004), pp.
99-103     
-----------------------------------------------

      Chapter 42

     Despite Commander Adama's dire and thunderous raging, Starbuck did
not find himself cleaning out the waste filters on the sanitation barge
for the rest of his career. He did, however, get to experience the joys
of working with the mechanics to repair the damaged Landram that he had
treated like some kid's hot rod out on a joyride. As pleased as Adama was
to see everyone back alive and well, he made it clear that reckless
operation of the equipment, when no replacements could be expected, was
out of bounds. Starbuck took the punishment detail in good grace, and
trudged off to the Galactica' s maintenance bay.
     Which is where Boomer found him, several centars later, wrench in
hand, tools about him, face smeared with grease. As soon as he was
finished to the chief mechanic's satisfaction (and Chief Mechanic
Shadrach was a man notoriously hard to please), the two Warriors were off
to the Officer's Club, for some long-overdue commiseration and ambrosia,
which was where Cassie and Athena found them. The two old friends were
sitting with their backs to the doorway, uniform jackets off, mugs in
hand, and had their feet up on chairs...
     Singing???
     Cassie cringed at some of the notes Starbuck was hitting, his
ululations sounding more to her like the screeching of a pet she had had
as a girl. Boomer was perhaps a bit better, but the ambrosia wasn't
helping him to advance his musical career very much.
     "I've heard patients with combat injuries that sound better," said
Cassie to the barkeep, arms crossed, watching the two old friends
continue, oblivious to the rest of the universe. The fellow nodded with a
smile.
     "You've never heard father in the turbowash," smiled Athena back.
Cassie turned to her, eyes big, and after a few microns burst out
laughing. When she finally settled down, she asked her friend: "Okay, now
what's this about Starbuck using that old shuttle to move the missile?"
Athena nodded. "Where in Hades did he ever get a leponbrained idea like
that?"
     "He's done it before."
     "What?"
     "Yeah, it seems that when he and Boomer were cadets, on the
Atlantia, Boomer was training on shuttle landings, at the same time
Starbuck's group was returning from patrol. Boomer's shuttle experienced
a sudden, total systems failure. Engines quit, electrical systems, radio,
everything."
     "Uh oh." 
     "Yeah. The Atlantia was at a dead stop, and Boomer's shuttle was
sailing right towards it, out of control. He had about three centons till
his shuttle slammed into the hull. Commander Riordan thought they were
going to have to shoot the shuttle down to avoid a collision." 
     "And Starbuck saved him?"
     "He did. He broke landing formation, and despite being almost out of
fuel, he maneuvered his Viper close to Boomer's shuttle, physically
connected with it, and used his ship to push it out of the way. They
missed crashing into the Atlantia by less than ten microns. He ended up
crumpling his left wing, but he saved the shuttle and the others inside.
And I'll bet he's never mentioned it either."
     "That's Starbuck alright," said Cassie, shaking her head. "No man I
know, not even Cain, would ever think of doing something insane like that
with an out of control missile. Thank the Lords that he never loses his
head in a crisis."
     "Maybe we should be thankful that when it comes to Starbuck, there
can be only one." 
     "Ha!" 
     Athena moved towards the table where the choirboys were sitting,
trying to get the Warrior's attention. Both men were redder-eyed than a
Centurion, and stopped their hideous screeching as she spoke.
     "Uh, remember?"
     " 'member what?" asked Starbuck with a squint, having run out of
ambrosia, and now starting in on some really cheap-smelling Skorpian ale.
     "The planet, Professor!" She scooped his feet off the table, and
shook her head. "Our hero! Boomer, our plan for the Ngishgi. Remember?"
     "Oh, yeah. R..gurgle right. We gotta get going."
     "Just one more?" asked Starbuck, but Athena took the bottle from
his hand, corked it, and set it back on the bar. Loudly.
     "No."
     "Okay," said Boomer, and the two Warriors rose and grabbed their
jackets, just as Utu-Hegal, still furry but smelling a great deal better,
entered with Castor besides him. Boomer greeted his friend, and the cave
man spoke.
     "You come now, Boomer?"
     "Try and keep me away! Of course I'm coming!" So said, he grabbed up
the ale bottle, handed it to the chief, who sampled the brew and
pronounced it good, and the three men headed out of the O Club, arms
joined, singing off-key enough to blow the circuits out of a Centurion.
     "Ohhhh what do we do with a shorted Cylon? What do we do with a
shorted Cy--lon/ What do we do with a shorted Cyyyyy-lon...early in the
cycle???"
     "I need a drink," said Cassie, banging her head on the bar. 
     "Oyyy hey UP she rises, oooyyy hey Up she rises, ooooyyy heyy Up she
rises, early in the cycle!!'
     "I know a better one, Starpuck!" said Boomer, as they waddled away,
voices fading into the corridor.
     "No you don't!" said Starbuck, wagging a finger in Boomer's face.
"Uh uhh!"
     "Yesh I do! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh fifteen Warriors on a dead Cylon's chest
plate! Yo ho ho and a bottle of ambrosia!!!!" Starbuck laughed, then
hiccupped loudly. "Yes, fifteen Warriors on a dead
Cylon's...uh...ummmm...."
     "Ha! Told ya!"
     "One two three four!" began Boomer anew, and Starbuck joined in.
"Shoot the Cylons out the door! Five six seven eight! Cylons never can
shoot strai-ai-ai-ai-ght!"   
     "You said it," replied Castor, and grabbed a mineral water.

     Starbuck had to admit, he felt better almost at once, as soon as he
stepped out onto the planet's surface and felt the spring of real grass
and soil under his boots. Cartographic scans had located the perfect
place for the relocation of the surviving Ngishgi, and they were stepping
off the shuttle now, carrying what remained of their meager possessions.
     In the middle of a wide ocean, on the other side of the world from
where the missile had exploded, there was a huge island, with an area of
nearly two hundred thousand square killometrons, running from the foggy
north, to almost kissing the equator. It boasted mineral-rich mountains
with glacial ice, vast forests teeming with game, rivers equally teeming
with fish that cut across rolling prairies criss-crossed by giant herds
of migratory animals, and land any farmer would drool over. It was also
completely free of the carnivorous reptiles, flying or otherwise. 
     "And there's no evidence of any other humans," said Boomer. "The
original colonists seemed to have either ignored it, or not come in any
numbers."
     "And they like it?" asked Starbuck, looking from the landing site,
to a thick stand of trees, a killometron or two away, across a stream, a
range of hills purple in the distance. Above, the yellow sun shone down
through an enticing blue sky, a few white clouds drifting by. "I have to
admit, it's beautiful."
     "They do," said Athena. "Once they understood, we showed them
photos of several places, and Utu-Hegal picked this one.
     "Well, shall we?" said Boomer, and they began to help in the
unloading of the shuttle. Boomer, eternally grateful for the help
afforded him by a people who were under no obligation to do so, had
gained Adama's permission to help the Ngishgi get back on their feet.
While moving them to a new place to live, he would also give them a gift
in return. A gift worth at least a thousand yahren. 
     With the help of a couple of scientists from Wilker's department,
and a retired academic, Boomer and Athena would help the transplanted
natives to advance and grow. Over the next few days, periodically
interrupted by those taking advantage of the furlon Adama had declared
for the Fleet or scientists collecting specimens, the Colonials tried to
teach the Ngishgi as much as possible, skills that they had lost over the
past centuries. Basic agriculture, how to identify various metal ores,
forging native cupric into tools, building a kiln for pottery and a
smelter and forge for iron, the bow, and the use of the equus, also
plentiful here, cutting trees, woodworking, boatbuilding, brickmaking,
basic animal husbandry, and the wheel.  By the end of the first full
secton, the Ngishgi were well into learning their new and wondrous
skills, diving in eagerly. Their larder was full of game and wild plants,
crude wagons had been built, and the first "buildings," huts of stone,
wattle and daub and turf, laid out to the cardinal points, were going up.
And, as more and more knowledge came their way, Boomer gave them the
greatest gift of all.
     Literacy. The script he had toyed with, while still recovering in
the cave, had been completed, with the help of a linguist and the
computer. One night, as the moons rose and the cavemen-cum-villagers
celebrated their newfound "wealth" with a feast of game, he sat with
them, teaching them the basics. Before much longer, they would be able to
read the literature, including works on handicrafts and technical skills,
that he had transcribed for them. Including, most importantly of all to
his way of thinking, The Book Of The Word. They may have been primitives,
but there were as smart as any humans anywhere he told himself. 
     And as fecund. As the night wore on, the air was rent with the cry
of a new life, come into the world, thanks to Cassie's help. Boomer
laughed, feeling relaxed and some measure of peace for the first time in
so very long. It would be hard, he told himself, to leave this world
behind when the order came. The urge to stay behind on this Paradise was
hard to resist, and only the fact that it hadn't been so very long since
they had last seen the Cylons made remaining here impossible. For once,
even those idiots on the Council could see that Adama was right.
     Then he laughed again, Starbuck and Athena slapping him on the back.
The new mother, widowed in one of the raids in the jungle, had named the
new boy Boomer, joined a  few centons later by a sister called Athena.

      Chapter 43

     At last, the bittersweet day finally came, and it was time to go.
The Ngishgi were now well on their way to growth, and the Fleet was
rested, refueled, repaired, and altogether much better off for the
encounter with this forgotten planet. Adama looked up from the reports he
was perusing, to gaze out the main port at the blue-white world beneath
them. All the scientific as well as furlon crews would be back from the
surface in less than a centar, and the last Viper patrol was scheduled to
land in two. Then, it would be back into space, and the course given to
them by the mysterious Ship Of Lights beings. The course that would take
them, someday, to Earth.
     But, the way ahead was not entirely unknown, now. While the settlers
here had not yet rediscovered faster-than-light propulsion before they
had destroyed themselves, they had sent a number of probes at near
lightspeed towards several of the nearest stars, and collected an
extensive library of astronomical and planetary data about the
surrounding area of space. The Galactica now had several excellent charts
of the regions before them, much to Adama's relief. He was also relieved
to learn that both Cadets Grumio and Oswy would make it. It had just been
under the wire for Oswy, and Grumio, after extensive surgery and some
time in a regen unit, would not lose his arm. Adama smiled, as always
pleased with the abilities of his medical staff.
     And engineering, too. While nothing substantive could yet be
determined about the piece of space junk that had hit Apollo's shuttle,
two more missile silos with unlaunched weapons had been found below, in
much the state as the first one. All possible information was downloaded
from the old computers, books and papers were collected, and in one case,
a still functional warhead was removed to the Galactica, to be set among
her own ordnance. Missiles were few and precious, and if they ever did
battle with a BaseShip again...
     Battle. How sad, he reflected, that these people had degenerated so
quickly into war's madness. What could possibly have caused this? From
what they could discern, and more than ninety percent of the data
collected so far remained to be deciphered, only a few had resisted the
insanity when it came. In the installation found by Boomer and Athena, it
appeared that some of the personnel had resisted launching their weapon,
once it became clear that the end had arrived and it was all now rather
pointless. A fight had broken out, and some of the personnel had killed
each other; others, the couple found in the old shuttle, had retreated
there and ended their lives together, rather than starve to death in a
hole, or emerge into an irradiated hell.
     He keyed the next page. All overt signs of their presence in this
system had been scrupulously removed, and the other silos well concealed,
lest they attract the wrong kind of attention one day. Even the tumbling
old satellite in orbit which signal had first made them aware of this
world's existence, was taken aboard for recycling. The long-silent lunar
bases were also examined and stripped of materials and equipment, though
enough was left for the descendants of the Ngishgi to, hopefully,
rediscover one day. The foundry ship now had its holds full near to
bursting with tons of scrap metal and mineral ores, sufficient to keep
the machinery of the Fleet humming for sectars to come, with care.
     Nor was that all that was full. Botanical surveys had not only
ultimately identified over six-hundred species of plants known to the
Colonies, but over half of them were edible, and would serve to expand
the Fleet's diet, along with the numerous food animals now gracing the
livestock ship. Or rather, both livestock ships. Docked inside one of the
asteroid mining stations found in this system, the team had discovered,
sealed off, still intact and seemingly pristine, a huge ore barge, almost
the size of the Gemini, left behind when the miners had evacuated. After
some deliberation, Adama had agreed to Agro Operations Chief Carmichael's
somewhat surprising request, and given the order for it to be salvaged,
and after the precious ores still aboard were off-loaded, its enormous
holds converted for use as a second livestock ship. The ship proved to be
surprisingly sound, its propulsion system was not utterly dissimilar to
their own, and Engineer Twilly reported that its power plant could be
modified and upgraded in fairly short order. At last report, it was
moving into position, technicians already busily at work, just aft the
first livestock vessel, and had already been assigned a name. Hegal,
local lingo for "abundance." Almost at once, another abandoned barge was
found, and at the request of several Council members, Adama agreed to it
joining the Fleet as well, replacing the lost Spica, and giving a little
additional living space for their cramped people. Like its ancient sister
ship, the new soon-to-be passenger ship, dubbed Amargi, or "freedom," was
taking her new place in the Fleet, and already requests for transfer were
coming in. Adama had signed off on it, sending up another silent prayer
of thanks for their unexpected rush of blessings. 
     Blessings, he thought. As a departing gesture of thanks and
goodwill, Adama had been invited to the wedding of the young hunter
Kudur-Mabug, and the flame-haired Pili. While the basics of any wedding
were obvious, much of the cultural subtleties were lost on him, and when
he was asked to speak a benediction over the new settlement and its
people, he felt sure he was going to put his foot in it. But, it seemed
he did well, and the farewell feast was one he would remember for the
rest of his life.
     "Commander," said Tigh, at his elbow. Adama looked up with a start,
then at his chrono. He hadn't realized how the time was slipping away. 
     "Yes, Colonel?"
     "Everyone has returned from the planet, sir. And Croad's patrol will
be back aboard almost ten centons earlier than estimated."
     "His report?"
     "All clear, sir. No signs of anything."
     "Excellent, Colonel." Adama looked back down at his data pad, then
out the port at the planet. "Inform all ship masters that we will break
orbit in one centar."
     "Sir."

     Boomer and Athena stood in the old Celestial Chamber, watching the
planet fall astern, the ships of the Fleet glinting like water droplets
in the sunlight. It had been hard for him to leave, so attached had he
become to the place. He'd almost given up the hope of ever walking
unafraid under a blue sky like home, with the wind in his face, and the
nectar of spring flowers in the air. He looked over at Athena, a tiny
tear welling up in her left eye, and knew she felt much the same. He put
his arm around her, and she did not shy from it. Neither did she speak,
but just let the moment carry her on. Like him, she would miss their
friends on Ki, as they had learned the planet was called by the Ngishgi.
All of them, from Utu-Hegal down to the newborns named after them.
     Well, except for two.
     He looked over a moment at the two he had in mind. Kudur-Mabug and
Pili, satnding on the other side of the operator's seat from them. He
frowned, though they were oblivious to it, being enthralled at the view
of the stars above them. It wasn't that he was angry at them. Well, not
exactly; how could he be, of the people who had saved his life, and cared
for him? He could understand their attachment to him. But, he had to
admit, he would have felt a bit better about it if they had asked him
first, and not stowed away on the last shuttle back to the Fleet. He and
Athena had returned, carrying several large sample boxes for Carmichael,
after saying their last goodbyes. Much to their sadness, he had told them
that they would probably never return, or see any of them ever again. The
new couple had nodded, seeming to understand, and moved away, leaving the
two Warriors to finish this last task. After a final double-checking of
the area and getting Carmichael aboard, they had waved goodbye, and
lifted off, leaving Ki behind.
     It wasn't until after Carmichael and his treasures were gone, and
the shuttle stowed in her bay, that he had heard something. Two
somethings. By that time, the last Viper patrol was landing, and the
Fleet was breaking orbit.
     "The Commander is going to fracking explode when he finds out," said
Athena at last. "If he hasn't already. What in Kobol are we going to do
with them, Boomer?"
     "Lords know, Athena. I sure as Hades don't." He sighed loudly. It
was irritating, to put it mildly, yet he could perceive, even in these
hairy barbarians, the powerful drive to learn and reach out, beyond the
known. They had shown these survivors new and wondrous things, new lands
and technologies, and kindled in them the most ungovernable of Human
traits. Curiosity. They had the Spirit of the Explorer burning within
them, he could now see plainly. Boomer obviously had quite a task ahead
of him, and he fancied that, somewhere far far away, he could hear the
Lords of Kobol, laughing gently. He turned from Athena, to scowl up at
the stars, then gazed astern once more. The planet that had yielded up
secrets of the mysterious Thirteenth Tribe was a fading pinpoint of
light. Then it was gone. 

Epilogue 

     "Well?" Sheba found herself tensing, waiting to finally hear the
news she'd been wanting to hear for far too long. A relapse in her
respiratory ailment after her temporary AWOL from the Life Station had
landed her back in a sickbed under even stricter quarantine conditions
than she'd ever known in her life, and it had left her feeling like a
prisoner the entire time. 
     Cassiopeia, feeling grateful to be back to the run-of-the-mill
duties of being a med-tech, looked up from her comppad, containing
Sheba's complete file. "Sheba, by the powers vested in me as med-tech,"
she began, tapping her on the forehead with the pad, "I pronounce you fit
to return to duty and released from the Life Station."
     "Thank the Lords!" Sheba said as she grabbed up her flight jacket,
which she'd kept draped across the back of the chair next to her bed. She
had been given permission to put her uniform back on earlier in the
cycle, pending the final evaluation, but just as a precaution, she'd kept
the jacket off. "Another micron in this place, and you'd have had to
start preparing me for the Nuthouse."
     "Well from what Dr. Salik told me, you did get some time away
earlier," she couldn't help but note wryly.
     Sheba straightened her jacket and managed to smile back at the
med-tech. "Yeah. And now that I've been able to piece everything
together, you really should be grateful for my divinely inspired sense of
timing in deciding to slip away."
     "Believe me, I am," Cassiopeia said. "So where do you plan on going
to celebrate your liberation?"
     "I don't know. I think I might just spend the first centar enjoying
the simple feeling of standing in a corridor and knowing I'm free to go
in any direction I please."
     "And knowing you're ready to take part in the next big mission, now
that you've had to go through the eternal shame and agony of missing the
last one, right?" Her friend kept up the light, bantering tone.
     "After what you've told me about what went on down there, I almost
wonder if I should consider myself lucky that I missed out on that.
There's too much of that that's still impossible for me to comprehend.
Giant lizards? Flying raptons?" she shook her head in disbelief.
     "Hey, I can show you the vid-recordings we made to show all the
survey teams before they went down there to study the ruins and carry out
the mining operations." Cassie stifled a laugh. "You should have seen the
look on Chief Twilly's face when he saw them. Practically needed a
sedative by the time the briefing was over!"
     "Serves him right after what he put everyone through on the
Agroship." Sheba finished adjusting her jacket. 
     "I know. Zeena was a close friend of mine, and I'll never forgive
him for what he did to her, either." Cassiopeia admitted. "Well, I won't
keep you here any longer, Sheba. To your good health and to your
freedom." 
     "Thank you," she waved back in acknowledgment as she pressed open
the compartment door and stepped out into the corridor. She took a deep
breath of gratitude over being free from confinement and started to walk
down the corridor, when she heard a familiar voice.
     "Forgive me?" 
     Sheba turned around and saw Apollo standing several feet away with a
sheepish expression.
     "I'm not sure," she smiled thinly. "Are there any ailments you're
suffering from that could make me have you checked in for a sectan or
two, so I can get even? Dr. Salik has this really big bio-probe, Apollo,
and he..."
     "Not right now." He came up to her and put his arm around her.
"Look, I know it was an inconvenience for you, but... you really were
overdue having that respiratory ailment looked at. I wouldn't want to
have thought you'd come down with anything serious."
     "That part I understood," Sheba instantly relaxed in his arm, "The
physical was the part I dreaded the most."
     "My father mentioned that," Apollo said. "You really hadn't had one
since before shipping out for Molocay?"
     "No," she shook her head, "I... wasn't anxious to go through one of
those."
     "Who would? And while we are on the subject, just what do you think
you were doing out of bed while under medical treatment, and up in the
Celestial Chamber to boot? That probably cost you all that extended time
in confinement!"
     "Just taking a walk."
     "Without permission, while still under medical supervision? I'm
surprised Salik didn't have you put in restraints when you came back!"
     "The thought did occur to him, but he ultimately chose to discipline
me more with sad paternalism rather than harsh fury," she sighed. "I just
had to do something. All that time, cooped up in the Life Station, was
driving me stark raving insane. Medical surroundings...I just hate..."
She then stopped, shaking her head, and decided to shift gears, "Well
anyway, like I said to Cassiopeia, I at least had good timing when I
decided to go AWOL and be there to intercept Boomer's transmission. If I
had to pay the price of two extra sectans confinement so I could help
make a difference, then maybe that was worth it."
     "That's true," Apollo admitted, "Part of a Warrior's duty is to
preserve the lives of fellow Warriors. In fact, you deserve a decoration
for that. But Sheba....why did being in the Life Station for a physical
upset you so much? I don't remember you acting that way when you were
recovering from your injuries after we first brought you here from the
Pegasus." 
     "It's not the same thing, Apollo," Sheba decided she was going to
have to be open with him about this subject. "If I have to go to the Life
Station to recover from battle injuries, that's one thing. But for this
kind of thing, all it did was make me self-conscious about something
else. The prospect of really being ill with something, and....well it
just frightens me too much for words."
     "Frightens you?" a look of concern crossed his face. "Why?" 
     Sheba sighed, "Apollo, did I ever tell you how my mother died?"
     "No," he said, "But I know what she died of. Remember, my mother was
good friends with her." 
     "Then you know it was Cusu's Gamma Syndrome," Sheba said as they
continued to walk down the corridor with his arm around her. He felt her
shudder as she spoke the horrible words. "Horrible, painful, viciously
slow and totally incurable. I.....guess I wasn't anxious to take a
physical and find out if I might be susceptible to getting something like
that someday."
     "Why should you think that?" Apollo frowned.
     "For a good reason. Temperamentally, I am like my father. But as
I've been reminded more times than I'd like to have heard, I......" 
Sheba stopped and shook her head. "They always tell me how much I'm the
image of my mother. Practically an identical twin to her except for the
eyes. It's....I suppose in the back of my mind, I've had this fear
that-----," she trailed off as if she felt too ashamed to go on.
     "Okay, I understand," Apollo tried to sound reassuring. "But even if
something like that were genetic, couldn't early detection do something
about it?"
     "No," she said, "You find one symptom of it, just one, and you might
as well start making plans for your funeral."
     Apollo stopped and placed his hands on both her shoulders. "But it
was a clean bill of health, wasn't it?" He looked her right in the eyes.
     "Yes," Sheba admitted. 
     "Then don't worry about it," he said tenderly. "What happened to
your mother was tragic, but you shouldn't spend your time worrying about
something that's never going to happen to you."
     "I don't want to worry about it," she said. "That's why I don't want
to go through another of those physicals if I can avoid it. I don't have
to worry about something that I don't know exists or not."
     Apollo didn't know what else he could say at this point. It was the
first time in more than two sectars of "officially" dating Sheba that
he'd finally discovered something that bothered her deep inside. Really
bothered her, even more than dying in combat. But as far as Apollo was
concerned, it wasn't something he ever planned on making a big deal
about. 
     "Come on," he said as he put his arm around her again and they
resumed walking. "Let's have dinner together and talk some more."

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

     "I'm waiting up for him, Muffit. He said he'd be back before I
needed to be asleep." The mechanical daggit let out a series of beeps and
nudged its metal-tipped nose against the little boy's legs, indicating
he should return to his bunk on the other side of the darkened room. 
     Boxey turned away from the compartment door that led into Apollo's
quarters, which he had opened just a crack so he could see when his
father would be returning. "Get away, Muffit," he scolded his beloved
pet. Finally, as if in surrender the daggit clattered off to his place by
Boxey's bed.
     As Boxey continued to peer into the next room through the crack, he
thought of just waiting in his father's room for Apollo to arrive, but he
knew he was apt to get a reproach from Apollo about not being in bed. All
Boxey wanted to do was see that his father was back, and then bid a
retreat to his bed, where he was sure his father would then stop by to
kiss him goodnight. Something he always looked forward to.
     Of late, Boxey had noticed how his father seemingly hadn't been as
available to spend evenings with him, either helping with his studies, or
playing games in the Rejuvenation Center with him. Even though Boxey was
well aware of how important his father's duties as a warrior were, it
seemed of late that there was a lot more taking up Apollo's time then he
could ever remember.
     Not that Boxey had any intention of being inquisitive and doing some
investigating of his own. After all the excitement he'd been through when
he'd stowed aboard the shuttle and wound up in the center of the
harrowing mission on the ice planet Arcta, the little boy had walked a
straight and narrow path of obediently doing everything his father said
without question. That meant doing nothing that was liable to earn him a
well-intentioned reprimand and scolding. He only wanted his father to be
happy so they could enjoy all the times they'd spent together in the last
difficult yahren since the death of Boxey's mother, Serina. And for
Boxey, those times with his father were the things he cherished more then
anything else in his young life.
     Finally, he could hear the distinct sound of footsteps approaching
the door to Apollo's quarters and then the sound of a voice that he knew
was his father's. Boxey crouched lower to the ground, prepared to sneak
stealthily back to his bunk the instant he saw the door to his father's
quarters open. But a centon went by and the door didn't open. He also
noticed that he couldn't hear anymore conversation.  Wonder what he's
doing, he thought absently.
     Then, the door opened and Boxey immediately recognized in the light
shining in from the corridor his father. But before he could make his
intended retreat, he frowned when he saw another person standing in front
of Apollo, their back to him. Someone he immediately knew from the long,
shoulder-length hair was a woman. Not his Aunt Athena, or Cassiopeia, but
someone he didn't immediately recognize.
     "....I know we need to plan our next date soon," she was saying,
"I'm really looking forward to it."
     "I am too," Apollo said in a clearly happy tone of voice. "Sheba,
you can't imagine how much I've enjoyed what we've done the last two
sectars."
     Sheba? Boxey couldn't understand what his father would be doing with
a woman the little boy knew of, but had only seen no more than two or
three times in a group gathering, and had never once had a conversation
with. From Boxey's standpoint, Sheba was as much a stranger as most of
the other female warriors who flew vipers.
     "I'm glad," she said, and then took a breath. "Would you object to
giving me a goodnight kiss?"
     "Not a bit," grinned the Strike Captain. 
     Boxey felt a wave of stunned surprise go through him as he saw his
father take her in his arms and kiss her tenderly on the lips. As he
continued to watch through the crack in the door, he saw the kiss go on
for a long time. And inside, Boxey could feel his surprise start to turn
into anger.
     Finally, he saw him release her, and then heard her say in a low
husky whisper, "I love you, Apollo."
     "I love you, Sheba," Apollo said back to her, without any
hesitation. "I don't know what's going to happen down the road,
but... I'm not afraid to say that to you. And you have no idea how good
it is to finally be able to say that to you."
     They kissed each other again, arms around each other, and now Boxey
felt himself burning with an anger inside that he'd never felt in his
life before. It was too much for him to keep watching and he finally
dashed back to his bed, climbing in and pulling the covers up over him.
All that was going through his mind at that instant was what his father
had said to him a yahren ago when he'd had to tell him that Serina had
gone away forever.
     "Her spirit will always be with us, Boxey. And that's all that
matters. We'll be able to carry on because we'll always know that she's
with us."
     In the yahren since, he had never seen his father take any serious
interest in a woman the way Starbuck did with Cassiopeia. To Boxey, it
had simply meant that his father was satisfied to live with the memory of
his mother from now on, and that had suited him just fine. Does this mean
you don't care about Mommy anymore, Dad? the little boy found himself
saying over and over again inside his highly impressionable mind.
     The door to his room opened and he could hear Apollo making his way
toward his bed. Even with his eyes shut, he could sense his father
standing over him, looking down and then gently touching him on the head.
     "Good night, Boxey," he heard him whisper softly, thinking his son
was asleep. And then, Boxey heard him turn away and leave the room. The
instant Boxey heard the door close, the little boy turned over on his
stomach, pounded his fist into the mattress, and buried his face in his
pillow in order to muffle the sounds of his tears.

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

June 16, 2004