Battlestar Galactica: The Derelict Virtual Second Season, Episode 7 By Eric Paddon Epaddon@aol.com Chapter One When Apollo opened the hatch that led to the Celestial Dome, the first thing he became aware of was how musty the air smelled. He knew that after more than three sectars of not coming up here that there was bound to be some levels of disrepair that had settled in, but this indicated that there'd been a ventilation malfunction at some point. As he helped Sheba up the last of the rungs and into the chamber, he could tell that she'd noticed it as well. "Give me a centon!" he said over the roar of the thrusters from below, "I'll make sure the ventilation's normal." Sheba nodded in acknowledgment. She closed the hatch and removed her ear protectors while Apollo checked the instrument panel on the far side of the wall. "Got it," he said, "They've cut back on the power to this part of the ship. I've got normal circulation going and that should clear out the smell in a couple centons." "Thank the Lords," Sheba said as she gazed at the closed ceiling of the dome. "It wasn't like this when I...snuck up here last sectar." "I have a feeling either my father or the Colonel killed the power to discourage any other AWOL patients from the Life Station from hiding out here," Apollo smiled wryly. "I guess so," Sheba shrugged, "But I would have thought you'd been here at least once since then." "No," he shook his head, "This is actually my first time up here since...oh, since just after the victory celebration a few sectars ago." "Really?" she lifted an eyebrow, "What caused you to...lose interest in this place?" He smiled, "I guess because I learned that day, just before I came down to take you out to dinner on the Rising Star, that I had bigger priorities in life now." Sheba smiled back and came up to him, gently taking his hand. "I thank you," she said. "The only reason I wanted us to come here is because I really wanted some place private to talk, and I can't get a pass on the Rising Star for some time to come. I...really think there's a lot we've got to talk about." "I agree," Sheba said and took note of the bench just in front of the raised platform where all the navigational instruments were located. "Can we sit down?" "Sure," Apollo nodded, "But just let me open things up here first." He mounted the steps to the platform, and activated several switches. A centon later, the panels in the ceiling folded back revealing the unobstructed view of the stars all around them. Sheba let out an awed sigh as she sat down on the bench and took in the view. "You know, if I'd been able to see a sight like this when I was young, I wouldn't have grown up with a skeptic's attitude about religion," she said. "When you see the universe this way, you know there has to be a purpose behind it all." "I know," Apollo admitted as he settled next to her and gently wrapped his arm about her waist. "Just like I know there has to be a purpose in life for us, Sheba." Sheba settled back so that her head rested on Apollo's shoulder. "I feel that way too, Apollo," she said as she continued to look at the stars, "But...we've still got a big stumbling block to deal with. And that's why you wanted to talk to me in private, right?" "Right," Apollo said sadly, "I'm...totally lost when it comes to figuring out what I can do with Boxey. You and I...we've done all we could to try and get him to accept you and the possibility that...something else might happen some day, but....he just keeps having a bad attitude about the whole thing." "Yes," Sheba admitted, "I thought watching Serina's old vidtapes and trying to get all the insight I could into what kind of a mother she was would help, but...it looks like it was a dead-end." "I can't tell you how sorry I am for what he did the other night. Saying he was writing a story for class about a young warrior who stays true to his beloved for the rest of his life was meant to take a shot at you. If I'd had the guts, I'd have turned him over knee and given him some real discipline for the first time in his life." "That wouldn't have helped things, Apollo," Sheba said, "If anything it would have made him more withdrawn. He's trying to make you choose between him and me." A pained expression came over Apollo's face exactly as she knew it would. For the first time, Apollo had heard something aloud that he too had dreaded ever considering, but now it was out in the open and he had to deal with it. "Sheba," he squeezed her hand more tightly, as though he didn't want to let go ever, "I love you. I...don't want to lose what we have." "Then we have to do something, Apollo," Sheba squeezed his hand back in the hopes they could draw strength from each other, "We can't brush this off any longer. We've been getting away with it by spending time with each other when he's not around, and keeping a nice attitude even when he starts acting horribly every time I'm around. It's got to stop." "I know, I know," he nodded, "That's...why I wanted us to come up here and talk this out. I'm open to anything you might suggest about this, and ultimately we have to decide this together on how to handle it." His girlfriend sighed and leaned back against the base of the podium, "Have you talked to the Commander about this? Maybe...well, maybe he could explain some of these things to Boxey if we can't do a good job of it." "I've thought of that," Apollo admitted, "But...I know exactly what would happen if he tried to explain how finding someone else to love again is a normal thing. Boxey would look him in the eye and ask, 'Then why haven't you ever found someone else again, Grandfather?'" he shook his head, "And when you get right down to it, my father is never going to consider getting remarried because he wants to honor my mother's memory, and that's exactly why I think having him do it would only make things worse." "And Athena?" "She'd be no good either because she's in the same position. She hasn't had a single date since she split up with Starbuck, so how could she handle a tough question Boxey might throw back at her?" he shook his head, "Anyway, she and Boomer are still on that probationary assignment on the Agroship for another sectan, so even if she could help, she's not available for awhile and I'd rather not wait that long." "I agree." Sheba said, "And I guess ultimately, we can't pass this off to someone else. It has to be you and me, facing him together and letting him know how things stand." Apollo looked her in the eye, "Maybe we haven't helped things by dancing around the idea of what it is we want to see happen someday." She smiled coyly, "Which means?" "You know," Apollo said. , "But...I'd rather not say it aloud...yet." "I won't force you to," Sheba said and pushed back a lock of her hair. "So...where does all this leave us?" Apollo squeezed her hand again and looked up at the transparent ceiling, where the myriad number of stars seemed intimidating. "I guess...when we get back from this deep patrol we go on tomorrow morning, we confront him. And from then on...it's in the Lords hands as my father would say." He looked at her again, "Do you agree?" "I agree," Sheba nodded and said with quiet strength, "We'll...do it together and hope for the best. And maybe while we're on patrol together, we'll have time to bounce ideas off on what we can say to him." "Good thing Boomer's still away or we wouldn't have gotten this chance," Apollo said. He was referring to how once every two sectars, Blue and Red Leaders were required to fly a deep patrol mission together to evaluate each other's skills. Boomer's probationary detachment to the Agroship had elevated Sheba to Acting Leader of Red Squadron, and that meant that on the day when it was time for the normal evaluation, Apollo as Blue Leader would be required to fly with her. "You're right," Sheba nodded, "Maybe...that's a Providential sign of things happening in a way that will let them work out?" "Maybe. We'll know by tomorrow night or the next day." An uneasy silence came over, as they both wondered what they should do next. Both of them felt a desire to do something they had yet to do in their relationship, but with things unsettled between Sheba and Boxey they had found themselves holding back. Even now, in the tranquil solitude of the Celestial Dome, Apollo and Sheba could still feel that uneasiness in the air overriding their desire to take advantage of their surroundings. Finally, after another centon of uneasy silence, Apollo and Sheba both reached for their ear protectors and opened the hatch that would allow them to leave the Dome. "Core Command transferring all systems to Alpha Patrol. You are cleared to launch," Rigel's professional voice filled both Apollo's and Sheba's helmets. "Affirmative Core Command, we are ready to go." Apollo said aloud as he powered up his systems and pressed the launch button. Five microns after his viper emerged from the battlestar's launch bay, Sheba's viper followed and then pulled up alongside him. "Course plotted for maximum penetration of Fleet's general Epsilon 22 heading," Sheba reported. "Telemetry recorder is active, and automatic heading is engaged." "Copy Red Leader. I think that's all I need to know to give you a positive evaluation in my report," Apollo allowed the faintest trace of humor to crack through his voice. "I'll remember to handle you on the return leg," Sheba chuckled, "Okay, let's just sit back and enjoy the ride...and whatever else comes from it." "Okay," Apollo said as he settled back in his seat. "How do we begin?" "Good question," Sheba shrugged, "What say we begin with small talk and see what tangents that leads us to in the next few centars?" "I'm game," Blue Leader said, "You start." "Okay. Is it really true that Starbuck found a possible lead to Earth in an ambrosia case?" "He found a lead but it's nothing we can make practical use of," Apollo said, "A personal diary of a prisoner on that Proteus penal planet we encountered before you joined us. There's reason to believe he came from Earth, but the problem is that no one can read a word of his journal. If it's Earth language, it's developed on a totally different plane from Kobollian, let alone Colonial Standard." "What about the expert linguists in the Fleet?" Apollo chuckled, "There aren't many people in our population of 70,000 who could be called that. My father found a couple Kobollian linguists who know the language even better than he does, but their preliminary study can't crack a single word. Not yet at least." "Well if the language is now so far removed from something we can understand, then how will we ever be able to find the sign that will tell us when we've found Earth?" "Transmissions I would suppose. I think that's another reason why I had us go back to the Dome last night, just to see if it was still functioning, because we really need to get it staffed full time to monitor and record all possible incoming transmissions on gamma frequencies. Leaving things to chance, like what happened on Ki last sectar, isn't a good idea especially if transmissions are the only way we can ever figure out if we're close to Earth or not." "I can help you write a memo to the Commander about that. Even if that would mean that place could never offer any privacy again." "We are always called to make necessary sacrifices in the name of the greater good," Apollo said and then stopped as he reflected for a micron. "You know, that sounds like the perfect phrase to use with Boxey." "I was thinking the same thing," Sheba said, "We should file all these nuggets of wisdom in our data base to make sure we don't forget." "Let's see if it leads to more and we'll do that." Apollo nodded, "Anyway, that's all there is with that diary. It's an interesting artifact, but until the linguists make a breakthrough, that's all it's going to be. I wouldn't place much faith in it." "Still, it's strange how Starbuck got led to it. Finding it in the crate of Protean ambrosia he got as his reward for that mission of his aboard the Rising Star." "Hey, don't forget he had some help." "Oh of course," she said innocently, "Siress Belloby." "Thanks a lot," he said with mock hurt. "Well be honest, Apollo. You didn't need to make as big a sacrifice Starbuck did in terms of changing appearance. He still hasn't got his normal hair back yet." "Starbuck hasn't had normal hair since his first yahren out of the Academy. His problem isn't color, it's length!" "Oh, I didn't know you disapproved of warriors with long hair," she teased. He tilted his heard toward her viper, just alongside and could see her impish expression through the cockpit. "With you it's perfect. With him..." he let the sentence go unfinished. "Don't worry. These top-knot fasteners I have to wear when I'm flying might be a pain in the astrum, but I'll pick them over having short hair any day." she decided to get some more information on another matter she wasn't up to date about, "So when do you have to testify at Samuels tribunal?" "I'm not sure when that will be," Apollo said, feeling good that their conversation had stayed on an up tempo so far. "There's one sticky matter that's holding up the proceedings. Samuels and Wilmer are officially the first two criminals eligible for the death penalty since the Council lifted the suspension after Baltar's release. And there's bound to be renewed publicity over that matter again if Sire Solon sought the death penalty, which isn't what my father would like to see right now." "I can imagine. Especially with that snake Antipas looking for any excuse to make Adama look bad." "Until we come across the Cylons again, Antipas is the biggest threat to the well-being of the Fleet." Their conversation continued for another five centars as the uncharted regions of space passed by them, with nothing to attract their interest. Occasionally, they found themselves finding more isolated bits of wisdom to use for their inevitable confrontation with Boxey, but nothing that they could consider the ultimate key to unlocking the solution that would make the little boy's attitude change. Finally, they both found themselves with nothing else to say, so they decided to remain silent and focus on their instruments for now. Idle periods of silence in a long deep patrol were an inevitable byproduct no matter who one was paired with. Even with a close friend, there was still the need to enjoy a period of mental solitude and freedom from other voices just to break the pattern. So the sixth and seventh centars saw almost no words pass between Apollo and Sheba. And then, on the eighth centar, that changed when Apollo heard a chime on his scanner that caused him to bolt his head up slightly. "Apollo, did you pick that up?" "Yeah," he looked at his scanner and frowned. "Definite contact with some kind of ship. Bearing is...oh, I can't tell. Seems to be almost drifting randomly." "Whatever it is, it's big to give off that kind of signal on the scanner. Definitely not a one-man craft or shuttle." "Right. Should have visual contact in twenty-five microns, bearing six-six-six." "I'll make visual sweep and you maintain scanner watch." "Affirmative." Sheba craned her head through the port window of the cockpit where it would come into view. When it did, her eyes widened in amazement. "Apollo," she whispered, "That's the biggest ship I've ever seen in my life!" Apollo looked up and his mouth opened in silent amazement. The ship made even the Galactica seem small and insignificant by comparison. It almost seemed to stretch endlessly, for as far as the eye could see. "Who could have built something like that?" Sheba wondered aloud. "I don't know," Apollo managed to speak, his eyes still locked on the ship. "Except for that landing bay side pod amidships, there's nothing about it that looks remotely familiar." The captain let his eyes wander the entire length of the ship. What he took to be the front end of it, on the left side of his vision had a stubby, pointed look but then it abruptly bulged to a massive height that stretched far higher than any other ship he'd ever known, and he could see various sections protruding outward, as if there were a seemingly infinite number of compartments and passageways inside. The landing bay side pod stood out like a familiar beacon in terms of ship design, but then working back the massive, bulky contours took over again before it finally slackened off with the contours of what had to be the stern section and visible signs of engine thrusters. But the engines at the rear couldn't possibly begin to power something this sign which meant there had to be additional means of propulsion somewhere inside. "Scan for life forms," he said in a nearly awed whisper. "Scanning," Sheba said. And then there was an eerie silence as the brown-haired warrior saw the readout. "Apollo," her voice was now a whisper no different from his. "It says there are human life forms aboard. But-----," Abruptly, a burst of snow-filled static filled their computer screens indicating that they could no longer pick up readings. "Oh, great," Apollo grunted with disgust, "Just when we get this close to finding out something this important, we get interference. I wonder if that's from their propulsion emissions?" "I wasn't picking up any signs of active propulsion," Sheba said. "You want my opinion, Apollo, this thing, whatever it is, is just drifting aimlessly in space. Like a giant...derelict." "Well if it's drifting aimlessly, then there's no way we could ever plot its trajectory accurately enough," Apollo felt his awe fade slightly, and now he stared at the gigantic ship with a sense of determination. "Let's try to raise her." "Apollo, what makes you think they'd be able to converse with us, even if they could talk back?" "It's worth a try," Apollo activated his unicom transmitter, "Attention spacecraft. This is Captain Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica, representing the Twelve Colonies of mankind. If you can hear us, please acknowledge." "Apollo," Sheba felt an uneasy feeling start to come over her, "Don't you think that's telling whoever those people are, too much?" "If they're human, we've got to take a chance, Sheba!" Apollo suddenly snapped back, which startled her. He then keyed the transmitter again. "Repeating message. This is Captain Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica, representing the Twelve Colonies of mankind. If you can hear us, please acknowledge by either verbal or visual signal." Twenty microns of silence went by. Finally, Apollo let out a frustrated sigh, "Nothing. Whoever's aboard that ship can't talk back to us." "So I guess that leaves us with no option but to head back to the Galactica and let the Commander call the next move on what to do." "We can't do that!" Apollo protested, "We're out of communications range with them and by the time we got back and got them to make a decision on what to do, who knows where this thing will be by then. If we turn around now, we lose this thing for good." "What are you suggesting then?" Sheba felt her concern deepen. "You're not thinking of having us board that ship?" "I'm suggesting that *I* board the ship and check it out," Apollo put a great deal of emphasis on the pronoun. "You can stand by and wait for me to finish." "Oh no," Sheba's voice was emphatic, "You're not taking any risks all by yourself. If you plan on boarding that thing, which I happen to think is a crazy idea, then I'm going with you." "Sheba, you----," "We board together because we're a team on this patrol and that means we share *all* of the risks," she cut him off, "Now don't go back to thinking you can handle these kinds of risks by yourself, because that would mean you're sliding back into some old habits I'd thought you'd gotten over." Apollo smiled thinly as he realized what she meant and glanced over at her. "You have a great way with words, Sheba. And you're right, if we do this, we do it together." "My recommendation though is that we don't." "Since I'm senior to you, this is my command decision, and I say we investigate. This could be the breakthrough our people's been looking for." "That might be asking too much. That ship seems as incomprehensible as that journal Starbuck found." "We can't just ignore the possibility," he focused his eyes on the side pod. "That landing bay looks like it can accommodate our vipers. I'll lead you in." As Sheba prepared to follow Apollo's viper in toward the foreboding derelict spacecraft, she found it odd that her boyfriend seemed so obsessed with the thought of exploring it. It's as if that ship has some kind of spell on him, she thought. The only thing she felt sure of as she lined up and saw the darkened opening of the landing bay, was that the sooner she and Apollo finished this exploratory mission and were on their way back to the Galactica, the better she'd feel. Chapter Two Apollo needed to activate his forward landing lights in order to illuminate the darkened landing bay and give him a definite picture of what lay inside. To his relief, he saw there were no obstructions blocking the tarmac, which meant he could proceed and not abort his landing approach. As his viper entered and braked to a stop he saw the aft section of the landing bay was illuminated and he could clearly see on all sides. Like a battlestar's landing bay, the walls were stark and gray with little else to distinguish it but some compartment doors that led to the vast network of corridors and passageways that he knew lay further inside the massive spaceship. Feeling a wave of determination, he popped open his canopy and removed his helmet. The earlier readout on human life forms had already convinced him that the air would be normal and he felt an immediate sense of vindication that only increased his desire to explore further. He got up and dropped to the tarmac below, which felt as solid and sturdy beneath his feet as a battlestar did. Just as his feet hit the surface, he could hear Sheba's viper landing behind him and pulling up alongside his own craft. He stood alongside and waited for her to shut off her engines and then open her own canopy. "Come on," he motioned. "Give me a micron," she said as she removed first her helmet and then the fastener so her hair could hang freely. Then, after securing her laser pistol, she dropped down alongside him. "Strange that the end of the landing bay has its lights on but the forward section doesn't." she didn't bother to conceal the trepidation she felt. "Maintenance failure of some kind no doubt. That's probably true of a lot of sections aboard this ship. But at least for our purposes, everything's lit up for us to do some probing." "Apollo, how much can we realistically probe? This ship is so big it would probably take the entire crew of the Galactica a sectan to cover all areas of it." "All we need to do is make contact with one person," Apollo said determinedly, "And our micro-scanners work, so I think we stand a good chance of finding someone before we need to leave." "Where do we begin? There are about six or seven compartment doors lining this area." Apollo pointed to a set of doors in the wall directly aligned with their vipers on the right. "There. That way we know that when we go back through those doors, our vipers will be right in front of us." "Before we proceed, I want the record to note that I still think this is a giant waste of time. The chances of finding something that can help us in the limited time we have are about as good as the Cylons giving us an apology for what they did to the Colonies." "Noted. But try not to sound such a pessimistic note, and let's hope for the best." "I'm just being a realist, to use an old expression of mine." "We can't afford to be realists all the time," Apollo said as they walked over to the landing bay wall and came up to the compartment doors. "You know this landing bay section is almost alike to that of a battlestar inside and out. Has to indicate a common technological bond somewhere." "Maybe," Sheba uneasily eyed the compartment doors, "Do those doors open?" Apollo placed his hand on the bulkhead and found a button to press. Once he did, the doors slid open with a loud creak that echoed down the entire length of the landing bay. The sound alone caused a chill to go up Sheba's back. When she saw only a darkened interior inside the compartment, her sense of dread foreboding only increased. "Apollo," she said, "I'm...really not comfortable exploring this without special equipment." The black-haired captain squinted to try and see if that would bring out any more details. He still saw only blackness. "Let's get the emergency packs out of the vipers. They have illuminators inside. Also full mini-scans and micro-coms too." Sheba had to resist the urge to groan as they went back to retrieve them. Several centons later, with the packs slung around their waists, they stood in front of the beckoning compartmentway. "Okay, Captain," Sheba motioned, "You're in command, so you lead the way." Apollo turned back and smiled at her, "Starbuck couldn't have said it better himself." "I guess it just rubs off from working with you," she managed to force a smile back, but inside she didn't feel any easier. Apollo stepped inside the darkened corridor and turned on his illuminator. The light shined down the length of the passageway revealing only nondescript hull plating and a pipe-laden ceiling. It was the kind of passageway that probably existed on all kinds of ships throughout the universe. "Activating micro-scan," Apollo said as he detached the item from his belt, "And I get...oh frack!" "You get nothing, right?" "No, I get interference that can't be overridden with these mini-devices." "Lovely," Sheba said dryly, "So that means our unknown human contacts could be anywhere aboard this derelict. That's basically what this ship is, Apollo, because something this big with so many inactive components, can't possibly be functioning normally." "We'll do what we can," Apollo said as they moved forward, the sounds of their boots echoing on the metal floor. Finally, they reached the end of the corridor and saw it opened out to a longer corridor. "Looks like this runs the entire length of the ship, at least on this deck level," Apollo said and briefly turned off his illuminator. Unlike the corridor from the landing bay, this one was not completely immersed in darkness. Apollo and Sheba could make out the blinking lights of auxiliary power lining the walls which seemed to cast an eerie kind of reddish glow throughout the passageway. "Well?" the brown-haired lieutenant asked. "I'm open to suggestions before making a decision." "Okay," Sheba came up alongside him. "We split up and explore this entire passageway to the ends and then rendezvous back here." "You think that's a good idea?" "If you're so hell-bent to explore this ship, then the more ground we cover, the better." Sheba said forcefully. She wasn't keen on the idea herself, but she also wanted to cut down on the amount of time she'd have to spend on this ship and it seemed like the sensible solution. "We keep our mini-coms active at all times and don't stop talking to each other for a micron. The instant one of us spots trouble, that means the other person starts running in the opposite direction as fast as possible." "Okay," Apollo nodded, "And that means we stay on this deck level the whole time and don't go up or down." "Precisely." she took a breath, "So do you want to go left or right?" "I'll take the right, you take the left," Apollo said as he turned his illuminator back on and prepared to step into the passageway. Before he did he took one look back at Sheba and could see in the spotlight of the illuminator the concern on her face. "We'll be okay," he suddenly sounded tender, "I'm sure of that." "Of course," she managed to smile, and then felt a sudden urge to say she loved him, but decided that wouldn't be professional at a time like this. Instead, she clicked on her own illuminator and rechecked her utility pack to make sure her mini-com, micro-scanner and laser pistol were all at the ready. "As soon as we're out of sight of each other, that's when we turn on our mini-coms." "Got it," Apollo nodded as he stepped out to the right and began to move down. Sheba followed in the opposite direction a micron later. For the first centon, as they moved away from each other, both could still turn around and see the other's illuminator receding from view. Then, when both of them found themselves stepping through an open compartment door, they both turned back and could no longer see each other's light. Each warrior was now truly alone in their respective part of the derelict vessel. At first, there was nothing in the passageway that caught either warrior's attention as they continued to move in opposite directions. The walls had a nondescript quality to them, while the blinking auxiliary lights offered nothing of interest either. So far, neither Apollo nor Sheba had seen any compartment doors alongside the corridor for them to investigate, which both found odd. "Apollo?" Sheba held up her mini-com and radioed, "Have you seen anything yet?" "Nope, not a thing. Just solid walls and light panels." "I wonder if this was a service passageway of some kind with the landing bay the only accessible thing on this deck." "Could be," Apollo shined his light at the ceiling as he moved on. "My micro-scanner still isn't registering anything but scrambled stuff." "Strange that it doesn't affect communications though," Sheba noted as she bent down to step through another open compartment ring in the passageway. Once she was through, she finally caught sight of something on the side of the wall. Something that looked like a placard or sign of some kind. She came up to it and shined her illuminator beam over it, and as soon as she saw the lettering, she frowned. "Apollo?" she radioed. "Yeah?" his voice crackled back. "I just spotted a sign on the wall and....Lords this is a real surprise." "What?" "Apollo, I'm not completely sure but I think the inscription is Borellian." "Borellian?" the black-haired captain stopped in his tracks. "How can that be? Borallus never developed spaceflight capability to go this far out into the galaxy." "I know, that's what's so strange about it. I'm...entering this into my scan data so it can be reviewed on the Galactica later. It sure doesn't make any sense, that's for sure." "Well, that'd be just great if that human contact we scanned earlier turns out to be a Borellian Nomen," Apollo grunted, "Not the kind of person I would have wanted to make contact with." "I know. I'll keep my eyes peeled." The silence resumed as Sheba continued to proceed down the seemingly endless passageway. Now, she noticed a hole in the wall. As she shined her light on it, she could see what looked like a ladder just beyond. Drawing closer she could now see this was an auxiliary tunnel area that led to the decks below and above by ladder. Shining her illuminator down, she found to her surprise that she couldn't make out the bottom of the shaft. Strange, she thought as she pulled the illuminator away and glanced down into what was now a black void. This ship isn't that big height-wise toward the bow. I ought to---- Abruptly, she stopped when her eyes suddenly saw something dart across her field of vision somewhere below. It had only been for a micron, and not enough time for her to make out any details, but she had been able to discern movement. From something that cast a reddish sort of color as far as she could tell. "Apollo," she felt herself trembling as she activated the minicom, "I think one of our lifeform readings is somewhere below us on the lower decks." She managed to recap what she'd just witnessed. The captain hesitated before replying. "That's...an interesting report, Sheba, but I wouldn't recommend going down to investigate that." "I don't have any intention of doing that," Sheba said firmly. "But...I have to tell you Apollo, this place is starting to really spook me. How much exploring do you think we really need to do?" Again, there was a brief hesitation. "Well...maybe not as much as I'd originally hoped. We'll give ourselves no more than a centar or two at best, and then we'll try to track where it's likely trajectory will take her before we can get a larger contingent from the Galactica back to investigate." He paused, "Just a micron, I------," "What?" Sheba felt the concern entering her voice. "Do you see something?" "No...I thought there was a shadow of something somewhere behind me. No, there's nothing now. I can't understand why there aren't any adjacent rooms or compartments down this way to explore. The whole passageway couldn't possibly have been used for nothing but landing bay access. Not for something this big." She could hear his footsteps over the minicom indicating that he was moving forward. Sheba wondered why she didn't resume her walk down the passageway, but for some reason she remained transfixed looking down into the void of the shaft, as if she were waiting for that...thing to dart across her field of vision again. Slowly, she resumed a standing position, and was about to move away from the shaft, when she heard Apollo's voice again. "Finally! I think I've found an access point that leads to the other deck levels. You know this looks kind of familiar, almost like...." he stopped. "Like what?" Sheba radioed. "Like the central core hub of a Cylon baseship," Apollo seemed taken aback. "Not as big, but there's a core shaft going through the floor. It's like a more primitive version of what Starbuck and I saw when we infiltrated the baseship." "This ship seems to be a strange amalgamation of designs," Sheba noted, "Colonial style landing bay, a Cylon central hub and sign in Borellian. Don't tell me what that could possibly add up to." "Curiouser and Curiouser, to quote an old Caprican fairytale." The captain sounded more puzzled than nervous, "Shining my light inside there. Oh boy, yeah this a central core hub all right I can see all around the circumference of the shaft. It's not as big as a basestar because of the design variable of the rest of the ship. A lot less open space. It seems like there's a pretty large maze of deck levels and access points that leads into the hub, and this just happens to be the point from this passageway we're on." "So that could mean that this ladder and shaft I'm at may not even lead to decks that feed into the hub." "Could be. This ship is proving to be more intricate then I ever figured." Suddenly his voice dropped to a whisper, "I think I just spotted something moving at the bottom of the hub. Something moved across the floor. Just-----," "Apollo?" Sheba felt the alarm rise. "Hey!" Apollo suddenly called out, "Please! Up here, do you-----," "Apollo! What do you see?" "I'm not sure, I----," the captain sounded dumbfounded, "My illuminator only caught a glimpse of it and whoever it was didn't respond." "What did it look like?" "All I could make out was that it has arms and legs. It was gone in a flash." "Apollo," Sheba felt her inner fear rising, "Either this shaft does lead to deck levels that hook up with the central hub and isn't as intricate as we thought, or else....." she trailed off. Apollo though immediately understood what she meant, "Or else there's more than one kind of lifeform on this ship." "Apollo, I'm really getting worried," she didn't want to use the term 'scared'. "How much more time do we really need to spend here?" The captain let out a reluctant sigh, "Maybe no more time at the rate this is going. I'll take just five more centons to see if there's a room or control center on this deck level to check out, and you do the same on your end. If we turn up nothing, then we head back and get out of here. Sound okay?" "All right," Sheba said as she prepared to walk away from the shaft entryway. Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, the massive ship lurched violently to port, causing Sheba to stumble backward toward the open shaft. Apollo felt the violent lurch as well. In his case, the lurch to port slammed him away from the shaft leading to the central core and back against the bulkhead wall, causing him to drop his illuminator which shattered to the ground and plunged the entire passageway into disorienting darkness. Then, before he could regain his bearings, the derelict vessel suddenly lurched in the opposite direction to starboard, sending the captain directly toward the open chasm. Before her illuminator fell out of her hand and crashed to the floor, Sheba managed to grab for the rung of the ladder mounted on the side of the shaft. Her right hand grabbed the metallic rung, but before she could get her feet anchored on the ladder, she felt the massive lurch back in the other direction, and could feel most of the gear from her pack being dislodged where it clattered downward. She held onto the ladder with all her strength but soon felt herself sliding downward, out of control to the levels further down inside the ship. Apollo could feel the horrible sensation of tumbling through open air in the dark and the only thought that went through his mind was how it was like a childhood nightmare come to life. The sensation of suddenly falling in the dark, with no sense of where it would end. But even in nightmares, one could always sense in the back of the mind that it wasn't real. Not so in this case. Then, he felt the thud of his right side hitting the ground. Pain shot through his shoulder and ribs, but it took him a micron to realize nothing was broken. His hand touched the surface and he realized that the floor had a kind of rubberized padding to it, much like a crash mat of sorts. If it had been solid concrete or metal, the impact could have been more injurious than he could ever have imagined. Groaning in pain, he struggled to a sitting position and tried to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the hopes of bringing out some detail. Finally, he had the sense of a few auxiliary light panels blinking somewhere, and then the gradual outline of the core area started to take shape through the foreboding black. He touched his belt and found his laser pistol still secure but as he probed further he could tell he'd lost his micro-scanner and ration kit. At that instant though, that didn't matter. What he needed to know was if one other item was still there. He felt his first surge of relief as he felt the familiar contour of the mini-com and pulled it out, "Sheba?" he shouted into it. "Sheba, do you hear me?" There was only a crackle of static, indicating that her mini-com was active somewhere, but whether she still had it or not, was a mystery. "Sheba?" he shouted again. His words echoing eerily through the core shaft. "Sheba?" Finally, he heard her drained, frightened voice, "I...Apollo, I'm...okay, I think. I can't believe I still have my com!" "Sheba, where are you?" "I...fell into the shaft. I...grabbed hold of the ladder but I couldn't control myself and I slid...I don't know how far down, and then I fell through into this passageway below. I...Lords I can't even find where the shaft is again." "Stay calm, Sheba. Stay calm. Try to get your bearings back." "What bearings?" for the first time panic entered her voice. "Even if I could climb back up I haven't the slightest idea which would be the right deck level to get back on. I have no idea how many levels I fell." "All right, okay. Just don't move. Let me think." Apollo's mind was racing. Both he and Sheba were disoriented and lost in the dark on some unknown alien spacecraft with strange lifeforms lurking somewhere in the shadows. He couldn't think of a more potentially terrifying situation to be thrust in. Even more terrifying then infiltrating the baseship had been. "What about you?" Sheba asked, "Are you...where you were?" "No, I fell down the shaft and I'm at the bottom of the central core. And I'm in the same fix you're in because even if I find a ladder, I don't know how many deck levels back up it is." "You lost your illuminator too, I'll bet," an almost morbid chuckle entered her voice. "Yeah," he felt the same sense of grim humor come over him. "So, I guess we've really got ourselves in a fix. But the key thing to do is to stay calm and to not stop talking to each other. You got that?" "I read you," a hint of professionalism returned to her voice, but the fear was still obvious. "So what do we do?" "I think what you ought to do is go back up that ladder and make your best guess as to which deck level to get out on. You've at least got a better fixed reference point with the shaft than I do." "Okay," Sheba took a breath. "I...oh frack, I can't find the shaft! It's....good Lords of Kobol it's not there!" "Calm down, Sheba, it's got to be there!" even Apollo was finding it hard to keep calm at this point. "I'm telling you it's not there! I fell through into this passageway and....." she stopped. "What? Sheba, what?" "Some door slid shut and sealed off the hatch," her voice fell to a stupefied whisper. "Like as if after I fell out into the passageway it just closed behind me." "Is there an access panel?" "Not that I can tell. Let me feel....frack, no. And if there was, then how in Hades could I get something alien like this open?" "Okay, okay. That takes care of that option," Apollo took a breath, "Sheba, you should at least have some sense of direction. If you're directly below where you were and you know which side of the bulkhead is where the shaft is, then you should be able to walk back in the direction of the landing bay." "Which isn't much help, because I'm probably well beneath the landing bay area with no access passageway feeding into it like the one we took to exit the landing bay to the main passageway." "Well at least it's a better idea then staying put or going in the other direction which we know would take you further away from where I am. Maybe even at that level there's a passageway that feeds into the central core and can at least get you to me." "That's the biggest long shot I've ever heard of in my life. But...I guess you're right. There's no other option, I....." her voice stopped again. "What?" Apollo managed to get back to his feet, "What now?" "Auxiliary power of some kind just kicked in," the stupefied whisper returned to her voice, "I can see in front of me now. The whole passageway has a kind of funny red alert glow to it." "Never mind the color, if you can see in front of you, you should start moving. And pray that maybe there's a floor plan diagram somewhere along the bulkhead walls." "What about you? Are you just going to stay put at the bottom of the shaft?" "I'm clueless as to how to get out of here, but at lest this is a fixed location I can keep my bearings on for now. I have a choice of a half dozen compartmentways to enter and there's no telling which part of the ship it would take me to." He paused and then chuckled mirthlessly, "I'm counting on you, Sheba." "I'm coming," she tried to summon some confidence back into her voice, and then impulsively she said something she needed to say, "I love you, Apollo." Her words relaxed the captain immediately. "I love you too, Sheba," he said tenderly, "We'll get out of this. The both of us. We've...got a lot of things ahead of us to take care of." "I know," she chuckled weakly, "And we're going to deal with them. I know that. Okay, I'm...starting to head down the passageway. I just hope that whatever those things we glimpsed don't decide to show up." Her reminder of the lifeforms they had fleetingly glimpsed caused the chill of fear to return to Apollo and override all of the pain he still felt in his side. Warily, his eyes started to dart around the central core, looking to see if that figure he had briefly glimpsed would somehow reappear. But for now, there was only the darkness. And for now, Apollo didn't know if that was good or bad. Slowly, Sheba made her way forward through the eerie red glow of the passageway, feeling only a slight twinge of pain in her ankle after her tumble down the ladder. She considered it miraculous that she still had her laser pistol and mini-com, since those were the two items she would have considered more irreplaceable than anything else. Even the illuminator seemed expendable by contrast. It was a lot more reassuring to be able to talk to Apollo during a frightening time as this was. "I'm not seeing much difference between this passageway and the one we were on. Stark walls and ceiling. Nothing lining the walls. Okay, now I do see something mounted on the side, hold on I want to see what that is." She stopped and inspected the protruding object on the left side of the bulkhead wall and she frowned in bewilderment. "Apollo," Sheba radioed, "There's an old style borataon cannister mounted here. And the style is similar to ours. Bulkier than the ones we use now, but the basic design is the same. And...I don't believe this, the printing is old Colonial style!" "What do you mean?" "Old Colonial style. The way equipment on Colonial ships used to be marked during the Second Era of the war up to about two hundred yahrens ago. They had a simple block letter format before they went to the bolder faced printing they use today." She paused, "Apollo, if this doesn't prove that whoever built this ship had some knowledge of the Colonies, I don't know what else could." "I'm almost prepared to believe anything at this point," Apollo grunted. "Are you estimating how far you've gone from your starting point?" "About thirty metrones so far. I...didn't stop to take a reading before I lost my micro-scanner, but I think on the upper passageway, I'd had to have gone at least a thousand to fifteen hundred metrones." "Okay, once you get an approximate match to that figure, that's the time to start looking for a shaft that hopefully leads back up to the Landing Bay level if we're really lucky." "Hopefully," Sheba nodded as she kept walking at her slow, careful pace. Then, she stopped in her tracks and felt the terror go through her once again as she saw through the red glow, a distinct dark shadow move across her field of vision far off in the distance. "Apollo," she managed to whisper, "Whatever life form is on this vessel is on this deck level. I'm...not sure about approaching it yet." "Still got your laser?" "Yes, but...I don't know why, but I almost have the feeling it won't be any good." "Look, we know that there's human life forms on this vessel. And even if there are aliens to deal with, they have to have weaknesses." "I know, but...in this kind of light, I don't think I could get the jump on them quick enough. Oh frack, there it is again!" Sheba pressed herself against the side of the wall and found herself flush with the recessed area indicating a closed compartment door against her back. She kept her laser pistol in the air and her head cocked in the direction of where the shadow had again moved across her field of vision. This time, she could make out a slouched form, not able to tell if it was bipedal or walked on four legs. And her last glimpse was of something that seemed like the shape of a tail to her. The brown haired warrior could feel her heart pounding madly as she tried to think of what it could mean. And then...as her terror-filled mind tried to deal with this situation, her peripheral vision caught sight of something to her right. Another sign mounted on the wall right next to the doorway she was pressed up against. Slowly, she turned her head to read the distinct lettering on the sign. And then...her jaw fell open in horror at what she saw. In old Colonial style lettering the words BETA DECK REJUVENATION CENTER. And below it, a symbol. A symbol she knew from her military history books, and from a story she had read much about over the yahrens, and which had always fascinated her father. "Apollo," she whispered in stunned horror, "Now I know why there are parts of this ship that resemble a battlestar. These parts *came* from a battlestar!" "What?" Apollo's bewildered voice replied, "What are you talking about?" "The Callisto," Sheba whispered, "Part of this derelict used to be the Battlestar Callisto." Chapter Three Apollo could feel his mind reeling from shock over Sheba's revelation. Great enough to momentarily drive all the fear and unease over the predicament of being trapped in a lonely derelict in the dark out. But as he pondered the story that had baffled all Colonial warriors for 500 yahrens, he now realized how that only made the situation even more frightening then ever from his standpoint. "You're absolutely sure?" he managed to say. "Apollo, what cadet who took basic military history doesn't know the Callisto's insignia?" "None," he shook his head. "If that's what you see then....but good Lords of Kobol how could..." he trailed off, unable to think of anything else to say. Now, the both of them found their minds going back to when they first heard the story of the Battlestar Callisto. The greatest mystery in the annals of Colonial military history. Both had heard the story described in full by the same Academy instructor, Colonel Gaddis, at different times. Of how a battlestar containing a crew of a thousand had been lost with all hands while on a deep space patrol in the Alpha Quadrant, some five hundred yahrens ago. Leaving no clues as to what her fate had been. Cylon attack had been ruled out because captured intelligence reports indicated none had been anywhere near the Callisto's sphere of operations. In the centuries since, there had been much speculation, but no evidence upon which to construct a realistic scenario of what might have happened. One ramification for the Colonial military that had come as a result of the Callisto's loss had been the construction of a new battlestar to replace her in the Fleet. That had been the Galactica. And now, a crew from the ship that had replaced the Callisto had been the first to find clues as to what had happened to the lost battlestar. "Apollo," Sheba struggled to regain her composure, "I think it's beginning to make some sense. You're sure the section you're in resembles a Cylon baseship's central core?" "Older version, but yeah," Apollo was also struggling, "I...oh good Lords I see what you mean. This derelict is literally assembled from different ships. Pieces of one seamlessly welded to another!" "It's the only explanation," Sheba nodded, "Whoever is behind all this takes parts of one ship, and adds it to another creating this monster ship. Given the size, who knows how many other kinds of ship pieces from how many races add up to this." "That would also explain the Borellian sign you saw earlier." Apollo tensed, "Sheba, do you still feel like making your way forward?" The brown-haired warrior glanced back down the red-lit corridor, "I....think so. Whatever that shadow was I noticed a centon ago isn't there now." "Okay, just keep moving and...try not to let the ramifications of what this ship is rattle you." Sheba noticed from the sound of his voice that Apollo was likely more rattled inside over these new revelations. As she took a tentative step forward, she realized that this was the first time she could ever recall Apollo sounding...scared. And to think I got on him for never feeling that way when I confronted him in the Cylon fighter cockpit, she thought without any mirth as she resumed walking. This time, she no longer cared about what she might discover on the sides of the passageway. All she was interested in was what she might see in front of her at any possible micron. "I've resumed walking," she said, "I still have a general sense of how far I've gone since I fell to this level. Probably about 100 metrones now. I'm keeping my paces even so I don't lose track of distance. As soon as I reach 1000 metrones, that's when I resume looking for shaft access leading up to the landing bay, and I'll maintain that for another 500 metrones." "Okay, sounds good," Apollo was slowly letting his voice return to normal. "What do you do if you find multiple shafts?" "I pick one and then I pray that all of them empty out to the same decks above." she could see the reddish glow illuminating the corridor taking on a darker hue to it. One that made her feel more ill at ease, especially as she felt it jog a memory inside her. "Apollo," she said, "The way this passageway is illuminated reminds me of something. It's like....." she abruptly stopped. "Like what?" Apollo's voice crackled anxiously. But Sheba didn't answer him. "Sheba?" The captain sounded alarmed through the mini-com, "Sheba, are you there?" The brown-haired warrior could hear him but was at that instant too terrified to move or say anything. Twenty metrones away, through the eerie dark red glow, she could see a figure crouched low on the ground, facing toward her. At that angle, she couldn't tell if it was an upright creature crouching, or one that moved on all fours in a normal posture. There was a lighter reddish hue to its body which enabled it to stand out more distinctly through the darker red glow filling the corridor. But what struck the note of silent terror through Sheba that made it impossible for her to respond to Apollo's increasingly frantic voice over the mini-com, was the creature's face. It was the most hideously ugly face Sheba had ever seen in her life. Red piercing eyes, a high forehead with a heavily deformed nose, mouth and exaggerated sized cheeks. And from the top of the head, she could almost make out what seemed like tiny protrusions. "Sheba! Damn it, are you still there?" Her eyes still locked on the hideous beast, Sheba slowly lifted her laser pistol and pointed it so that the barrel was aimed right between the eyes of the creature. For a micron that seemed to stretch to eternity, neither she nor the beast moved. Then, the reddish creature let out a hideous growl and began to move toward her. She could see it vaulting forward on its hind legs, its forearms flapping back and forth. As it drew closer, she could make out a tail sticking outward from behind. Without batting an eye, she pressed the trigger and fired. She saw the laser fire strike the creature directly in the face, and in a flash Sheba saw something that made her eyes widen in disbelief. For just the tiniest fraction of a micron the ugly, evil beast that now moved toward her was gone, and instead was something.... recognizably human. And with a tortured look on its normal male face. But just as quickly as it had appeared, that image was gone, and the beast was there again still charging toward her. Sheba prepared to fire again but suddenly she saw what looked like wings sprout from the sides of the creature and it took to the air, flying towards her. Sheba dropped to the ground and heard the snarling creature pass over her. She turned around and in the darkness behind her could barely see its shadow disappearing in the direction from which she'd come. It took her nearly a centon to find the strength to get back to her feet, and when she did she found herself trembling violently from what she'd just seen and experienced. Yet amazingly, she found herself resisting the urge to scream out in terrified anguish. She knew it wouldn't solve anything, and more than anything else, she wanted to keep her wits about her no matter how frightened she felt. For Commander Cain's daughter, no other course of action was possible. Finally, as Sheba managed to put her laser pistol back in the holster, she realized that she hadn't heard Apollo's frantic voice for some time now. Concerned, she looked down at the ground where she remembered seeing her mini-com fall when she'd been forced to drop to avoid the creature flying at her. She felt her sick feeling increase when she saw the vital communications link destroyed and beyond repair. Smoke wafted up from the broken remains and Sheba realized that she hadn't stepped on it or crushed it accidentally. Some kind of corrosive acid had fallen on it, rendering it inoperable. And she knew that could only have happened when that demonic looking monster had passed over her. "Great," she said aloud, "Just fracking great. What do I do now?" She removed her laser pistol again and kept it pointed forward as she glanced down the red-lit corridor. She could see no other creature, and no other shadow. But even if she had, she knew she had no other choice but to move forward no matter what was there. A dim awareness of what the real secret behind the fate of the Battlestar Callisto and the other ships this derelict had been assembled from, was starting to occur to her, And if her hunch was right, she knew that her only weapon of defense wouldn't be the laser pistol she carried. It could only come from her own sense of inner strength. Apollo found the silence on his mini-com maddening. There was no explanation for why Sheba would stop talking unless her own com-line had become damaged, or if...... He shook his head violently. There was no way he would consider that possibility that something had happened to her. Not if he was to keep himself calm to try and figure out what he could do now that contact with her had been lost. He looked around the darkened central hub that surrounded him, barely able to make out the general contours in the dark and wondered what had possessed him to take a chance on landing on this ship. It had clearly been a foolish risk, and now there could well be a terrible price paid as a result of that error in judgment. Dear Lord, he silently prayed, wherever she is, let her be safe and let us both find a way out of this hellhole. As he got to his feet, he realized that waiting for her to find a way to him was no longer a practical option. It was one thing to sit in this dark crypt and still be able to talk to her, but in this vast chamber of silence, he couldn't dare let himself sit still. He had to take some action. His eyes tried to focus on where there was an access ladder, since he had already decided that venturing out from the bottom of this core wouldn't be the right course of action. Even if he didn't know whether an upper level led back to the same passageway he'd fallen from, at least going up would be going in the right direction. So be it. He would go up and at the same time would carefully keep his sense of direction so he could retrace his steps back to this central core if need be. He put his laser back in the holster and took his first step, and then abruptly stopped. He was certain he could hear from somewhere amidst the vast chamber of the core a sound. As he stayed frozen in his spot and concentrated he could make it out some more. The sound of something breathing heavily from somewhere. And in this vast open area, the sound of what was only low breathing seemed magnified beyond belief, making it sound more eerie. What made it worse was that he knew there was no way of pinpointing just where the sound was coming from in this shaft. A lesser warrior might have cracked emotionally in terror, but Apollo was determined to not let that happen. He would summon all his strength and go down fighting if he had to, with his dignity as a warrior intact. And one way to do that was to challenge whatever creature this was. "What are you?" he called out, his voice echoing throughout the open core like a lone voice in an empty stadium. "Show yourself!" As the echo of his voice died down, he could hear the sound of the breathing increase. Apollo found himself wishing he had Starbuck's gift for sarcasm and black humor, because he was sure it'd be the best possible response he could summon. "I've faced many enemies before!" he called out, "I'm not afraid to face something new. Not even you!" He looked around the upper part of the hub's circumference, where the balconies leading out from access tunnels winded around. Then, about halfway up he finally saw a pair of red eyes staring down at him. It was impossible to make out any other features. Just a pair of menacing red orbs, and the unholy sounds that emanated from it. Apollo detached his laser from the holster and pointed it right below the glowing orbs. And his mind finally thought of a Starbuckism to use. "Speak now or forever hold your piece, chum." Before he could pull the trigger though, the red eyes bolted forward, over the railing overlooking the hub, and Apollo's mouth dropped open as he saw a reddish, winged creature flying overhead across toward the other side of the hub. In the dark, the red color of its body gave him a clear look at all of its details. And in an instant, Apollo realized that he had something just like this once before. Nine sectars ago in the wreckage of another massive ship on a desolate planet. All of the fear for his own well-being was gone. He knew exactly who was behind all of this, and he had stood him down once before. The only thing he could worry about was whether Sheba would realize the same thing and show the same sense of inner strength that was needed more than anything else. The sound of her boots against the floor was the only sound in the passageway, as Sheba kept walking in the measured, even steps that would let her keep track of how far she had walked. She held her laser pistol by her side, knowing that it wasn't a useful weapon, but she still felt carrying it helped boost her overall sense of resolve. She didn't think it wise to dwell further on the ultimate truth behind this monster derelict and the hideous creatures that dwelled within it. There would be plenty of time to reflect on that later, after she and Apollo were on their way back to the Galactica. Keeping her mind focused toward that objective was another tactic she knew her father would have approved of. I won't let you down, Daddy, she thought as she kept walking. I'm going to stay strong and make it out of this so you'll be able to see me again someday. In the last several sectars, since she had begun dating Apollo, Sheba had tried not to dwell on the fate of her father and the Pegasus, like she had done so much in the past. It wasn't that she'd lost hope that he was still alive somewhere, it had more been a case of not wanting her desire to see her father alive compete with her desire to see a meaningful relationship develop with Apollo. She had forced herself to tell Apollo aloud that he had to stop clinging to Serina's memory as an excuse to not open up, and she also knew that she couldn't let her sorrow for her father be the excuse to keep her from enjoying life. And so, she'd just put her hope into the background. Not abandoning it, but being realistic enough to deal with life if she was never fated to know the answer of what had become of him. Now, at this moment when she felt her skills and instincts as a warrior being tested like they'd never been before, she felt the need to reach out and let that hope that her father was still alive guide her. Especially since she also had to deal with the prospect that Apollo was also in danger and she could do nothing right now to help. The prospect of her surviving, and Apollo not, was something she might well have to consider. The faint sound of something in the distance caused her to stop. She could hear metal moving, like the sound of a compartment door opening. The creaking, metallic sound indicated that it was being raised rather than opened sideways like on the compartments of a battlestar. That meant that at some point, this passageway that had been part of the Callisto turned into something that came from another ship of unknown origin. She did some mental calculations and estimated that she had another one hundred metrones to go before she'd be under the original starting point where she and Apollo had parted, and where a passageway existed that led back to the landing bay. That would be the time to start searching for a way off this deck level, and she had a hunch that if the landing bay had originally been part of the Callisto, like this passageway had been, then there had to be some kind of access point connecting the two sections. Then, she heard that distant metallic sound again. Like a compartment door sliding shut. And then...the sound of not one, but two distinct sets of footsteps coming toward her. More of them, she thought as she raised her laser pistol again and pointed it forward. She was prepared to shoot them both, just to let them know she was still unafraid on the outside, and maybe that would get them to move past her just like the first one had. Sheba remained in her position, her eyes looking down the darkened passageway waiting for the first visual sign of them. But for a half centon there was only the sound of the footsteps. Then it was joined by the sound of an eerie breathing noise. Two sets of reddish eyes came into view first, about fifty metrones away. The footsteps stopped, but the breathing seemed to pick up in intensity. Clearly, she had been spotted by them. Don't be afraid, she thought. Show no fear. Look angry. Look contemptuous of them. You're a proven warrior. They should fear you. Her face contorted into an angry scowl as she held her laser pistol out, ready to pull the trigger. Suddenly, two hideous sounding cries erupted and the beasts began charging madly toward her in wild leaps that no human would ever have been capable of making. Sheba pressed the trigger and fired at the one on the left. The laser blasts struck it in the neck, and like before Sheba saw the flash of something else in place of it. But this time, instead of a human, this one had a reptilian body. She barely had time to make out any details before she trained her laser on the second one and fired at it. The laser blasts struck it in the mid-section, and Sheba's eyes widened at the brief sight of another human with a horrified look on its face. But unlike the first time, this one was close enough for her to make out the unmistakable sight of a Colonial uniform from five hundred yahrens ago. The two snarling beasts were now just twenty paces from Sheba and she abruptly flattened herself against the left side of the passageway, hoping there was enough room for them to pass without hitting her. And then...her facade cracked slightly so that she closed her eyes as they moved past. An odious smell filled her nostrils as she felt them go by, perhaps no more than fractions away from her. A burning sensation hit her leg, and she realized that some kind of acid that they secreted, the same acid that had destroyed her mini-com, had splattered on to her. Convinced they were gone, Sheba moved back out into the center of the passageway whacked at her leg to try and ease the pain. She hoped it hadn't penetrated through her uniform enough to cause no more than a superficial wound. As she rubbed her leg some more she became aware of a loud snorting noise from behind. She turned around and saw that the two beasts had not continued on, but had merely stopped some twenty metrones away. And both of them had their red eyes trained squarely on her. "Holy frack," she whispered. It was now becoming evident to Sheba that these two planned on doing something more specific aimed at her. And she now had a feeling that she was going to have to do more than just stand still with a contemptuous look on her face. Slowly, she started to step backwards and away from them. The red eyes of both of them had a menacing, piercing quality to them, as though they were examining her not only on the outside, but inside to every facet of her psyche as well. And can they sense the fear inside me? Is that what they're probing for? She could hear the creatures' feet start to drag across the floor. Sheba had the sense that when they reached her, they weren't going to move past her. That meant she had no other choice but to run from them as fast as she could. She turned around and began to sprint down the dark passageway, not letting herself think for a micron of how close they might be. For ten microns, she could only hear the pounding of her boots against the floor, but soon she became aware of the creatures' roaring behind her. That meant they were pursuing her, and she knew that their incredible dexterity meant it would only be a matter of time before they caught up to her. What she needed to find was an open compartment door on either side of the passageway and then hope she could close it quickly. She could feel a rush of air behind her and she knew that one of them had leapt toward her and landed just short. The next time one of them tried, she might not be able to elude them any further. Then, she saw it on the right side. An open compartment door, it's black interior standing out in contrast to the red glow of the corridor. She leapt inside and could see the two beasts storm past. Scrambling to her feet, she placed her hands on the wall and searched frantically for any sign of a button that would close the door. From outside, the snarling noises of the beasts indicated that they were prepared to turn around and charge back toward her. Finally, Sheba's hand touched something that felt just like the door panel that she might have felt on the Galactica. She pressed it and saw the door slide horizontally. She just had time to glimpse the hideous face of one of the beasts charging toward the closing door before it slammed shut. Apollo reached the base of an access ladder, and didn't even give any thought to the fact that the winged beast was probably somewhere above him. As far as he was concerned that demon, and anything just like it, was a known enemy that he could deal with. It was perfectly safe for him to be pro-active and look for a way back. He slowly mounted the ladder one rung at a time, making sure his laser pistol remained securely fastened, along with his micro-scanner and mini-com. He was halfway up to the first level when he heard a noise that sounded like a hideous laugh boom through the open hub. It was enough to make him stop in mid-climb and collect himself. Funny, he thought. I know what those beasts look like and yet it's more spooky to just hear them and not see them. The black-haired captain resumed his climb and decided to bypass the first two deck levels since he was convinced he had fallen from no lower than the third one. When he reached the third level he stepped onto the balcony, and looked back out at the hub to see if the sense of height was the same he remembered before he'd fallen. I think this is it, he thought. But what I don't know is which hatch did I fall through? He followed the circumference of the balcony and kept his eyes peeled for the recess of an opening. The first one he saw, he stepped into and he found himself back in a passageway that was not unlike the one he had originally been in, but there was no way to know for certain if this was the right one. Apollo turned around and looked back to catch his bearings, and pinpoint this view of the hub in his mind, in case he needed to return this way. Now, he would carefully pace his steps for however long he stayed in this passageway. And then, he turned to start walking and had gone only two steps when he found himself just a single metrone away from one of the beasts. The unexpected sight of one so close to him sent a jolt of terror through him that he was unable to control. The beast lifted an arm that Apollo saw had claw-shaped talons on the end rather than normal hands. Quickly, the captain pulled out his laser pistol and fired two blasts into its mid-section. When the laser blasts struck the creature, Apollo saw the flash of something else for two long microns. Instead of the creature it was a reptilian looking figure that seemed vaguely familiar to him. Apollo fired two more blasts at the creature and saw the flash again for another long micron and now he realized why it looked familiar. At some point, long ago in a distant past, this beast had been a living Cylon. "I know what you are!" Apollo shouted. "You can't harm me, because I don't fear you or your master!" The beast seemed to back away from him, a wet saliva dripping off its contorted mouth. When the drops struck the floor, Apollo saw a smoky cloud emit, suggesting that it was comprised of some kind of acid. The captain knew that he couldn't dare let that come into contact with him and he took a step back, but still kept his eyes fixed on the demon. Finally, the mouth opened and Apollo heard words emit from it. Words he could recognize but in an indescribable kind of hideous voice. One that was both low and high pitched at the same time, as if it were electronically operated, and set to the most irritating low and high decibel settings possible. "In....time.....you...will.....fear!" And then, the creature suddenly turned and bounded off down the corridor at tremendous speed. Apollo kept his eyes on it until it disappeared from view. Slowly, Apollo decided to make his way down the same passageway. Perhaps the beast, or one of its fellow minions hoped to instill fear in him by planting themselves as close to the area of safe exit as they possibly could. If so, then he would rise to the challenge, because at least it offered him a chance of getting closer to where he needed to be. Sheba, I hope you've figured it out, he thought again for the thousandth time in the last five centons. The captain's steps were evenly paced, as he was determined to keep his reference point of where he'd entered this passageway accurate. His face remaining focused on the center of the passageway. He had gone approximately one hundred metrones, when he came alongside a closed compartment door and suddenly became aware of a different kind of noise. The sound of tapping. Apollo stopped and stared at the door with a cautious air. As he heard the tapping continue his eyes then widened as he realized the tapping came in a distinct pattern. The pattern of...Colonial code. What he was hearing was a longstanding Colonial code to indicate a warrior in distress. Sheba? He felt a chill go through him. He reached for the door, where he could see an access button like that of a battlestar and then stopped. This could easily be a trap by one of the demons, trying to lure him in and then produce a moment of terror that could leave him at their mercy. But he knew he had to take that chance. Especially if there was an equal chance that the woman he loved was on the other side, perhaps injured and unable to speak. He pressed the button and the door slid open. He could see immediately that the room had auxiliary light illuminating it at half the normal level. "Help." Apollo looked down and his eyes widened as he saw not one of the beasts, or Sheba, but something else. The figure of a man lying on the ground. He looked to be about forty-five or fifty yahrens old, with unkempt black hair and a ragged beard stubble. His clothing was rumpled and slightly tattered but even Apollo could recognize it immediately as an old-style Colonial officer's uniform. And he could also recognize the insignia of the Battlestar Callisto on the shoulder of the man's jacket. The Galactica warrior found himself completely at a loss for words as he saw the man look up at him, and with a tortured expression extend his arm toward the captain. "Help me," he whispered in a low, broken voice, "Please." Chapter Four Sheba could hear the claws of the creature scraping against the door outside, and she wondered if it would find some way of opening the door. But after a centon, nothing happened and she could hear it's footsteps recede down the passageway until finally, she could hear them no longer. She slowly let out a sigh of relief and felt she had dodged a potential catastrophe. She had allowed herself to briefly show a trace of fear, and that had almost been enough for them to do Kobol only knew what to her. The only immediate question though, was would they come back and find a way of penetrating this compartment? Sheba backed away from the door and decided to take stock of the room she now found herself in. There was a higher level of auxiliary lighting than there'd been in the corridor, though still far from a normal setting. It was easy to make out a large number of what looked like computer bank terminals, with a number of chairs stationed at various intervals in front of them. She moved toward them and tried to recall if these might have been part of an older battlestar's layout like the Callisto had been. Even though the Pegasus had first flown while the Callisto was still active, that ship had undergone a number of overhauls in the last two hundred yahrens prior to her father taking command, so there was bound to be things that would look unfamiliar to her. She gingerly sat down in one of the chairs, feeling a wave of comfort at getting off her feet after so many long centons of walking through the dark and then being forced to run. As she felt her muscles relax, she cast a glance back at the compartment door that led back into the passageway, and listened carefully to make sure there was no sign of the beasts outside trying to force their way in. But for now, there was only silence. Her eyes than wandered from the compartment door and could make out the writing to the left that indicated what room this had once been. She could see the old style Colonial lettering which confirmed that this room too had been part of the Callisto. She got up and made her way over to see if she could make out the full description. ALPHA AUXILIARY CONTROL That particular description struck no immediate chord with her, since there was no counterpart to anything like that aboard the Pegasus or the Galactica. But then she remembered that in the early days, battlestars had a number of secondary control stations that were designed to keep the ship capable of moving in case an attack left the bridge destroyed or incapacitated. As bridge shielding had improved over the yahrens, and the likelihood that only a breach causing total destruction of the ship could destroy it, these stations had been gradually eliminated over time on the grounds that they were a redundant waste of space. If this was a backup command center, she thought as she sat down again in front of the dead, inactive computer terminals, then maybe there's a way of accessing the official data tapes on what happened to the Callisto. Cautiously, she pressed one of the buttons on the lower end of the terminal. Nothing happened, and she then worked her way up the panel, gently flicking numerous ones into what she hoped was an on setting. After pressing a button five rows up, she felt a start when the entire room suddenly became lit with normal levels of illumination. The effect of seeing normal everyday lighting took her aback since she had gotten so used to the levels of darkness after so long, that it caused spots to flash in front of her eyes for nearly a half centon before they readjusted. I wonder if this would be enough to really keep them at bay, she thought. With the lights back on, she could make out a number of smaller panels on the console that more clearly indicated what they were for. It then occurred to her that instead of a button for the data tapes, what she really needed to look for was a unicom system. If she could broadcast her voice to all areas of this monster derelict, then at least she had a chance of letting Apollo know that she was alive and okay somewhere. But her examination revealed no sign of a unicom switch. She felt a wave of frustration go through her but then felt it pass when she saw a button clearly marked, "Flight Log Recorder." That has to be it, she thought. At least part of the truth should be there. With no hesitation, she pressed the button and waited for what she hoped would be the dead giving up their secrets of what had happened to the great battlestar. Apollo felt only caution and skepticism as he saw the pitiful sight before him. If he was right that the demons aboard this derelict had at one time been the crews of the various ships the derelict was assembled from, then it should have been all too easy for one of them to make a sustained appearance in their former state. And he was also aware of how their master was quite capable of assuming a normal human form as well. "Please...." the man still had his arm stretched out, his voice pleading, "Help me, please." "Who are you?" Apollo pointed his laser pistol at him and displayed no warmth in his voice. "I'm a...prisoner," he whispered, "The last...prisoner who still has his soul intact. Believe me...I'm not one...of them." "What's your name?" Apollo kept his voice cold, "Get to your feet if you can!" Slowly, the man managed to force himself to a sitting position, "You've....seen the others, haven't you? You....know what happens to them?" "I'll ask the questions," the captain felt his patience wearing thin, "What's your name?" The man nodded and swallowed, "I...don't blame you for thinking I'm...one of them. I've seen...so many others like you before." "If you're not one of them, then that means this thing can kill you. You either answer my question or I use it." He let out a morbid chuckle, "How I wish your laser could kill me," he took a breath, "My name is Delambre. Colonel Delambre." "Were you part of the Callisto's crew?" Apollo kept his pistol pointed at him. "Executive officer," he sighed. "And you say you're not one of them? You aren't...transformed like the others?" "If I were, you wouldn't be able to talk to me like this. The only time you can see a ghostly echo of what they once were is to fire a laser blast at them." he paused, "You've done that haven't you?" "Maybe," Apollo held his ground, "But I don't have any reason to trust you. How did you know to send out a Colonial code? And how did you know there was anyone out there to hear it?" "Oh, I knew you were aboard. You and your friend. They...have ways of making me know when an outsider is aboard. It's all...part of their sick game of trying to give me some hope.....before they snatch it away by enslaving them.....just as they will enslave both of you if you aren't able to escape." "I know who this enemy is, and I don't fear it or the one behind it." "That doesn't matter if you know who the enemy is," the man who called himself Colonel Delambre slowly rose to a standing position. "So many of us...we knew. But all of them eventually were enslaved." "Except you." "Yes," he nodded sadly, "I'm the last one who hasn't given in to them." "I'd like to believe you," Apollo kept up the skepticism but slightly lowered his pistol, "But if you were telling the truth, that would mean you're over five hundred yahrens old." "Is that how long it's been?" he let out another morbid chuckle, "Strange how time seems to blur when you're in an eternal prison." "Look mister, or Colonel, or whatever. Much as I'd like to trust you, I've already seen from past experience how the one in charge of this operates, and that includes being able to take human form. So don't blame me if I choose not to believe you." "If I were who you think I am, would I appear this way to you?" Colonel Delambre gently retorted. An air of sad resignation in his voice, as if this was not the first time he'd had to say something like this. "Surely I'd take a more...plausible form, like someone who could only have been a recent prisoner?" There was a strange logic to his voice, and it made Apollo realize that at the very least he needed to consider the possibility that Delambre was telling the truth. And then...as he thought further, he realized that he had one piece of evidence to suggest Delambre was telling the truth. The brief scanner reading they'd picked up when they first saw the derelict, which said there was human life aboard. The demonic minions wouldn't have registered that way. Could that scan have meant this wretched figure in a ragged uniform from so long ago? He kept his pistol in his right hand half-raised but then detached his micro-scanner from his pack with his left hand. He pointed it at the man and flicked the switch, and his eyes widened in amazement when he saw the readings for a normal human being register on it. "Well?" Delambre asked, "Are you now convinced?" "Not one hundred percent," Apollo said as he placed the scanner back in his belt. "You could always have the means to project a false reading." He let out a sigh, "Shoot me then and see what happens. You know that when you shoot a demon, his true form is revealed for a flash. See if that happens with me." Apollo frowned, "But that would kill you." "No it wouldn't," Delambre shook his head, "I'll explain that matter later. But do it now, and you'll realize that what you see before you is exactly who I am." The captain stepped back and with some hesitation pointed it at Delambre's chest. And then, he pulled the trigger. The red flash impacted against the man and it failed to have any noticeable impact on him whatsoever. He remained standing in the same position, his expression unchanged. There had been no sign of any other shape or form for even the slightest fraction of an instant. "Okay," an amazed Apollo said as he put his laser back in his holster, "You've convinced me....for now." The one-time executive officer of the Callisto sighed gratefully and motioned Apollo forward, "I'll be glad to tell you everything now." When Sheba pressed the button, the only thing she heard at first was a low whining noise like an ancient communications tuner warming up. But then it cleared up, and she heard the professionally efficient voice of a man filling the room. ".....entry for this, the 18th cycle of the third sectar in the yahren 6827. Commander Harriman recording." Sheba felt her ears perk. She immediately recognized the name of the Callisto's commander from the lecture at the Academy. "We have now penetrated deeper into the Alpha Quadrant of the galaxy than any Colonial warship has conceivably done in the last five hundred yahrens. Along the way, we have encountered human settlements and outposts that have apparently been forgotten over time by the center of Colonial civilization. No doubt the result of the constriction of our frontier caused by the outbreak of our war with the Cylons, five hundred yahrens ago. We were in particular impressed by the discovery of a thriving agro-community known as the Serenity Colony, where a profitable existence has been established by the local agro-workers who settled there some two hundred yahrens ago. Their only minor problem is the existence of a Boray settlement that mercifully stays clear of their colony and enables them to prosper in their quadrant." The brown-haired lieutenant found herself recalling a story Boomer had shared with her during one of their more recent deep patrol missions together. She was certain this referred to the same planet Boomer had spoken of. "What we hope to achieve by this mapping of the Alpha Quadrant, so far off the beaten path from the realities and pressures of the war that exist close to home, is to provide Colonial Fleet Records with precious new information that can make them aware of how important it is to achieve victory in this conflict, and enable mankind to extend his presence further than he could have imagined. It has of course, carried with it, the risks entailed by being too far from home to even send out an intelligible long-range transmission back to our star system, but we feel that ultimately the results will have been worth it." They wouldn't have had anything stronger than a weak gamma signal to send back then, Sheba thought, as she listened with rapt attention. No wonder no one ever heard anything from them again if they were so far out when whatever it was happened. "Concerns from the crew over being so far from home were mitigated by our recent stop in Gomorrah, where the crew received two sectans of furlon as the guests of the Delphians. Despite their somewhat repellent appearance, the Delphian devotion to art and culture provided the men and women of the Callisto with enough distractions to last a lifetime worth of furlons. But for Colonel Delambre and myself, the most intriguing part of our stay in the Delphian home world, is their report of how their scanners suggest the possible existence of lifeform readings outside their domain, which represents the end of charted space as we in Colonial civilization have come to define it. "And so, with our sojourn on Gomorrah now at an end, I find myself in agreement with my executive officer that we should do some probing of what lies beyond charted space before we begin the long return trip home to the Colonies. If we do make contact with lifeforms beyond these environs of the known universe, who is to say that we might find in the process allies who could assist us in our struggle with the Cylons and perhaps provide us with the key to victory?" A clicking sound indicated that this particular entry was over. Sheba waited to see if another entry would begin, but no sound came. Perhaps she needed to press another button to find what was recorded next by Commander Harriman. This explains why the Callisto was so far from home. But what did they run into that led to this awful fate for them? Delambre led Apollo to the back end of the room where there were two chairs opposite from each other. He motioned the captain to sit down, and with some hesitation, Apollo did so. "I have no idea when they'll come back, but usually they give me enough time to try to explain what happened to an outsider before they make their next move." "What do you mean by outsiders?" Apollo quietly demanded, "Do you mean people like me?" "People like you, Borellians, Cylons, Delphians, and a host of other alien races you probably never got a chance to hear about," Delambre waved his hand, "After five hundred yahrens, I have no idea how many times it's happened before." "Meaning no outsider has ever safely gotten off this ship?" "None," he said pointedly. "And for many of them, their ships end up being added to the mix of what this ship is. A monster assembled from the parts and pieces of every ship it manages to enslave." "For what purpose?" "To impress their enemy, of course!" the Callisto officer said as he settled down in the chair across from Apollo. "The Dark One places pride in the size of his efforts." "So you can't help me find my friend and get me out of here?" "I'm going to try to, believe me," Delambre said, "But until you hear the full story from me, you can't begin to be prepared for what you're up against." "Before I let you begin, there's just one thing," Apollo said, "Aren't you the least bit curious about where I come from, and what's happened?" Delambre let out another morbid chuckle, "Captain, I recognize your uniform, and I already know the fate of Colonial civilization. And frankly, I ceased to care about that long before I was told by the Dark One personally about what happened to the Colonies. The only thing I'm concerned with is finally escaping from this crypt and letting my soul rest eternally in peace." Apollo found the man's bizarre riddles maddening, but he realized that until he heard the full story in context, he'd never begin to understand this enigmatic man who defied all known standards of medical knowledge to still be alive after five centuries. "Okay, Colonel," Apollo said, "Go ahead." Sheba had to flick several more buttons before she finally heard that annoying whirring sound that indicated an old data-tape rewinding. She pressed the switch that had activated that noise again and as she thought, it would now play. "Entry for the fifth cycle of the fourth sectar in the yahren 6827," a voice different from Commander Harriman now filled the room, "Colonel Delambre, now in acting command, recording. It is my sad duty to report the death of Commander Harriman and more than one hundred additional members of the crew, caused by the damage we sustained when a bizarre phenomenon none of us can still comprehend, came down upon us with force that would make even the mightiest of Cylon weapons seem insignificant. Our bridge is almost completely incapable of sustaining normal operations, and we are now forced to guide the Callisto from the three auxiliary control stations. "The suddenness in which this turn of events happened still leaves us reeling in shock. That is why nearly a sectan has elapsed before I could find the strength to make this official log entry and bring matters up to date. But hopefully, in the few centons I have before I must return to overseeing our next move, I can recount things as accurately as possible. "Our journey beyond the domain of the Delphian Empire to look for signs of life in the areas beyond charted space was uneventful for the first two sectans. Increasingly, the crew began to show signs of discontent and desire to finally return the long journey back to the Colonies, and Commander Harriman was inclined to agree with them. But based on my conversations with the Delphian Science Minister during our furlon on Gomorrah, I was convinced these imprecise indications of life that they had never been able to investigate because of their lack of spaceflight capability, had to be investigated. It could easily be decades if not a whole century or millennia before an opportunity such as this presented itself again for a Colonial ship, so to err more on the side of probing further seemed like the better course of action, especially since we had encountered nothing that could endanger us, and since Gomorrah still offered us a nearby base for fuel even if we went further for another six sectars. "Ultimately, Commander Harriman came round to my way of thinking so the order was given to proceed." "It was all my fault," Delambre lowered his head in shame as he told Apollo the exact same information that Sheba was listening to at that instant in the recording from five hundred yahrens ago. "I pushed Harriman into going further into the uncharted regions because of my damned...sense of adventure. I should have been thinking what the crew was going through after being away from home for so long. The furlon on Gomorrah had refreshed me because I didn't have living family waiting for me back home, but the rest of the crew...." he trailed off and shook his head again in shame. Apollo no longer had any doubts in his mind that Delambre was genuine, but he now felt a sense of uneasiness about what could have led to all this, and how the Callisto executive officer could end up still being in a normal state after all this time. "Go on, Colonel," he gently prodded. "Yes, of course. I've....had to do this sort of thing so many times before, I should be used to it." he raised his head but avoided direct eye contact with the captain. "First sign of trouble came when Green Squadron advance probe failed to return from their patrol. They just...disappeared without a trace. Harriman brought us to a dead stop and then initiated patrol sweeps in all possible headings, but they turned up nothing. At least...nothing of the patrol. But Yellow Group did report finding some pieces of ship wreckage drifting about, and we decided to bring the samples back for study to see if they matched any of our missing vipers." "We were stunned beyond belief, when our tests on the wreckage revealed that it was distinctly Cylon in origin," Delambre's voice continued on the ancient tape Sheba was listening to with rapt attention. "But not of Cylon vintage that we were familiar with. These samples dated back more than seven hundred yahrens, to the time before the war, and before the original Cylon race of living beings became extinct. This meant that at one time, they had penetrated further than any known race had done, and so far from their own star system. But what had happened to them? "Before we had time to ponder that question further, that was when our nightmare began. When suddenly we saw before us the most massive ship any of us had seen in our lives. To say it was a hundred times larger than a battlestar might have been a too conservative estimate. Well...the instant we saw that, it set off a panic of chaotic proportions. When Commander Harriman attempted to take evasive action by withdrawing at top speed, we suddenly found to our horror that our faster than light capability had been rendered inoperable. By forces we still haven't been able to comprehend. "The panic that had set in on the bridge soon became a mutiny, as angry crewmen took out their frustration on the Commander. Although all of the details are still not fully known, the ensuing chaos by riotous crewmen who'd lost their sanity as a result of this monster ship's appearance eventually resulted in the massive explosion that killed Commander Harriman and left the Callisto in this incapacitated state we now find ourselves in. "This now leaves me in command of a crew of four hundred survivors, and while mutiny and outward panic doesn't grip up us, we are still faced with an underlying terror of this ship lying before us, while we remain powerless to find some means of escape, and also too far beyond charted space to send a long-range transmission back to the Colonies. Even attempts to try to send shorter range messages back to Gomorrah to let them know of our plight have ended in failure. "Outwardly, I am trying to do all I can to summon the needed image of reassurance and command authority that is needed. But I find myself totally without any viable answers as to what we can do. And that has me feeling as terrified as the rest of the crew feels now." A clicking sound indicated that the tape was finished and that if Sheba was to learn more, she needed to find the next entry. As she searched for it, she felt the sting in her leg from the acid that had hit her earlier kick up again, and she annoyingly rubbed at it to try to make it go away. How much longer should I look though? Sheba thought. If I don't find another entry soon, I should get out of here and start looking for that landing bay again. The sound of Colonel Delambre's voice then indicated that she had found the next entry, and she settled back again to listen. But within a micron, she realized this was not a normal journal entry. It was a conversation. "I won't doubt that you're a remarkable person with incredible power. You've demonstrated that in just two cycles aboard. But the idea of saying we must totally and completely 'follow' you is what I don't understand." "Come now, Colonel Delambre, why must you delay the journey home for your men by engaging in this tiresome game of semantics? To follow me, is to simply place your complete trust in my judgment and my decisions that will insure the safe return of the Callisto to the Colonies within a sectar's time." Sheba felt a chill go over her entire body, and a sense of fear that exceeded anything she'd felt in her time aboard the derelict. A fear that stemmed from an immediate recognition of the voice that spoke to Colonel Delambre. The voice of someone she had once spoken with as well. "....So there we were, stopped dead in space with this ship peering down at us as if we were some kind of insectoid about to be stepped on," Delambre went on. "I didn't have any solutions to offer. We were all...just on the edge of losing our sanity. And...that was really what he was waiting for. The right time when we would be all vulnerable and susceptible to his influence." Apollo didn't even bother to ask Delambre who he was referring to. He already knew who it had to be. "He...appeared to you and offered a way out?" Apollo asked. Delambre gave him that mirthless smile again, "Very perceptive of you, Captain. Yes, he did. Deluded them into thinking he was an enemy of the forces that lay in wait aboard that ship and which had snatched away our patrol, and that only by following him could we have a chance of escaping and making it home." "I don't need the rest of the details," Apollo interjected, "It's fairly obvious what happened to the rest of the crew. But how were you able to resist?" "Because I never trusted him from the outset," Delambre leaned back in his chair. "As Commander, I knew how desperate the situation was for us, and my mind just could not accept the idea that a quick, easy solution to our problems could come to us from one man. Not even one with all the charisma and charm that....he projected. But it didn't take long for me to realize I was alone among the entire crew in terms of not being impressed by him, and...well do I need to tell you the rest if you're familiar with how he operates?" "No," the Galactica warrior shook his head, "I won't make you revisit that. But...how is it that you're still alive after all this time?" "It's my eternal punishment," Delambre looked down at the floor again. "Because I'm the one who put those poor souls in a position to be enslaved. They...can never take control of my soul, but the punishment is that I have to stay alive in this derelict surrounded by what they and everyone else enslaved by him have become for eternity." "How do they keep you alive?" "I don't know, but I guess with him anything's possible, isn't it?" he threw up his hands. "I never feel hunger or thirst. I never have to sleep. It's practically immortality as man used to define it. But in my case it's the worst kind of prison imaginable. I don't have to worry about my soul being in bondage, because I'm long past the point where I fear them and am vulnerable to that kind of influence. But so long as I'm kept alive in this place, I can never be truly free. Not until the day comes when someone can help me escape from this place, and I'll die at last." Apollo realized what he meant, "You mean away from this ship, you'd age again and die?" "In an instant," Delambre said, "But on this ship, nothing can harm me. Not even your laser pistol or anything else. So that's why...if it's possible that you can resist them, and find a way out, you can....give me release at last." "You've spoken of others who've come before me," he said, "But that they all end up being enslaved. How does that happen? Just sheer fear?" "Creating fear, and using their...power to weaken the individual force of will in a person," Delambre sighed, "Have you...noticed how they secrete a kind of acid?" "Yeah," the captain nodded. "Whatever you do, don't let any of that touch you," the Callisto officer said firmly, "That substance has a way of....attacking one's sense of inner resolve if it enters the bloodstream. And soon, even the stoutest of minds ends up finding their will cracking until finally, they're a ripe target to give in, because by then, he'll have appeared in a benevolent form again and promise a way out, which of course too late means turning over the soul by free will. And...the final result of all that is what you've seen out there." "I see," Apollo felt unease go through him as he realized there was a way for these demons to circumvent force of individual will. "And do they have...other weapons at their disposal besides this...acid?" "Yes, but the acid is the most effective one. That's been the cause of most of the enslavements I've seen ever since my captivity began." "Why don't they use that on you?" Delambre chuckled mirthlessly, "Because Captain, I'm past the point where they're interested in enslaving my soul. He learned a long time ago when I was the last one left that this fate was something that could amuse him a lot more then my becoming just one of four hundred fellow crew members." "Okay," Apollo rose from his chair, "I've heard all I need to know. What I need now is for you to help me find my friend, and then together we can try to find a way out of here." "Easier said than done, Captain," Delambre slowly rose, "Your friend is separated from us by three deck levels and the only access tube that could lead us to her or vice versa requires going through the central hub." "You knew that?" Apollo's eyes widened. "It's something they make me know," he said sadly, "Just part of their game when others arrive to give me some hope." "Okay, then the central hub is where we go." "Which will require a lot of bravery and a lot of dodging on your part and hers, Captain," Delambre's tone grew pointed, "The central hub is where you'll find no fewer than a hundred of them clustered together." Chapter Five Sheba only listened to the tape containing Delambre's conversation with that charming, but hideously familiar voice for another half-centon before she shut it off. As far as she was concerned, she didn't need to hear anything any longer. Her curiosity had been more than satisfied, and now the sooner she resumed her search for Apollo and a way out, the better. As she got to her feet, she could feel the sting in her leg suddenly act up again, and she winced from the pain. She rubbed it vigorously to try and ease it, but it was clear that it only offered temporary relief. What she needed was a good examination in the Galactica Life Station as soon as possible. She started toward the compartment door that led back to the passageway she had come from, and then became aware of something she hadn't noticed before. A half open door, that looked as if it led to a storage room. Curious, she approached it and reached out to press the button that would open it the rest of the way. But before she could press it, the door slid back by itself...revealing the sight of a skeleton with a tattered Colonial maintenance uniform still attached to the body standing in front of her. Sheba let out a startled gasp as she backed away from this terrible unexpected sight. And then...she felt her inner sense of fear increase when she saw the jaw of the skeleton suddenly move...and heard a horrific sounding voice that was both high and low pitched speak. "Are you now afraid?" She turned around and dashed toward the compartment door that led back to the passageway, opened it and began to sprint down the corridor as fast as she could go. "A hundred of them?" Apollo was trying to comprehend the horrific magnitude of what Delambre had said. "Give or take a few," the Callisto executive officer grunted as he motioned Apollo to follow him out of the room they'd been conversing in. "It's...a planned location. The central hub is the only access point that can lead back to the landing bay. And no one I've come across before can survive that unholy chamber without losing their nerve and begging for a way out, which only comes by surrendering the soul to the one in charge." The captain shook his head, trying to come to terms with the magnitude of how evil and wretched this place was. And then he trembled as he thought back to how the fate of the Callisto could just as easily have been the fate of the Galactica. "Are you prepared to face them, Captain?" "I have no choice," Apollo said with quiet determination. "Not just for myself, but for...Sheba." "Your friend," Delambre then squinted slightly as if he was trying to look deeper into Apollo's expression, "She's more than a friend to you, isn't she?" The Galactica warrior nodded, "I love her. And when we get out of this, I plan on asking her to marry me." "Keep those feelings for her in proper balance, Captain," Delambre cautioned as he opened the compartment door and motioned him to step out in the corridor. "They may prove to be helpful in saving her....but could easily be used against both you and her." Apollo found himself grimly nodding as he followed him out. Sheba didn't know how long she'd ran down the passageway when she abruptly came to a stop and realized in horror that in her panic, she'd completely lost track of her measured calculations as to how far she needed to go before she had any chance of finding the landing bay deck above her. Running and stumbling in the dark redness of the corridor meant there was no way of getting her bearings back short of going back to the compartment she'd come out of. Which was something she had no intention of doing. The sight of that decayed skeleton speaking was even more terrifying a sight than the sight of the demons in their true form. She could feel her heart pounding and could hear the sound of her breath exhaling heavily. She had clearly lost some of her inner resolve, and she knew she had to get it back before she dared to continue her search for a way out. "Calm," she whispered aloud between exhales, "Stay calm. Fear is their weapon. My fear serves them. I can not...fear," She didn't know how long it was before she felt enough of her composure come back to let her resume walking down the corridor at a normal pace. Her mind was trying to chase every feeling of fear away and formulate a plan of action. The next access ladder I see, I'm going up. I may not know if I'm directly under the landing bay, but going up means going in the right direction. Sheba walked another twenty paces, her head alternating from left to right to see if an access ladder would come into view. Finally, on her left, she saw what looked like one. Similar to the one she had fallen down in what seemed an eternity ago to her. Without giving it a micron's thought, she stepped into the shaft, placed her hands on the rungs and began to climb up. One level, she thought as she saw the lighter area indicating another access hatch behind her. Two levels..... Abruptly, she became aware of a hideous screaming noise as she passed a tunnel that moved vertically above the second level she'd just passed. She felt her skin crawl and her hands tremble on the rungs, but she resisted the temptation to look to her right or left to see what the source of that noise was. She continued to climb up. When she became aware of an access hatch to the third level above where she'd started, she felt that now was the time to start investigating for the way out. She climbed out and on instinct detached her laser pistol as she carefully looked to her right and then her left. Nothing. Sheba put her pistol back in the holster and began to move forward down the passageway. Around her, she noticed signage that she was certain was the Delphian language, indicating that some unfortunate probe from Gomorrah had fallen victim to the evil that lurked within this derelict. Maybe that's why they gave up spaceflight and confined themselves to their own system, she thought idly as she felt the sting in her leg increase. She stopped to rub it again, as she found it hobbling her ability to move forward at a normal pace. Damn it, Sheba thought as she felt a chill go through her, I can't stop. I've got to keep moving! She was still hunched over rubbing her leg, when she became aware of a dark shadow falling across her field of vision. Followed by a second, and then a third. Slowly, Sheba lifted her head and saw three figures just ten paces away. Two of those slouched red-color demons, and another human skeleton, but this one clothed in a costume or uniform that struck no recognition in her. "You are afraid!" they all spoke in a horrible unison, "But you will only fear more and soon have no choice!" Sheba slowly got to her feet, feeling the sweat running down her forehead and the thumping of her rapidly beating heart. She aimed her laser pistol at one of the demonic creatures and fired. For a brief flash, she saw a human figure wearing a uniform just like the skeleton next to it. A rectangular emblem was prominent on the shoulder. And then, giving them no other thought, she suddenly ran toward them and charged through the opening between them, going down the passageway as fast as she could go. She was now oblivious to the pain in her leg, and felt only an increasing fear that she wasn't going to have time to find a way out, let alone find Apollo. The brown haired warrior looked back over her shoulder to see if any of the three she'd charged past were giving pursuit. She saw no sign of them. She turned around and then stopped in horror when she saw another figure standing before her. And this time, the terror was at its greatest since this was a figure that while not repulsive in appearance, was one she was well familiar with, and which she hoped she'd never have to face again. "Hello, my princess," he smiled at her and spoke in that smooth, familiar voice. Sheba felt on the verge of screaming when suddenly, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. "No," she struggled to keep her emotions calm, "It doesn't matter if it's him. Just stay...*calm*! He *wants* me to be afraid!" She became aware of a growing intensity of light coming from around the corner in front of her. She resumed her trek forward, feeling the sting in her leg again and as she rounded it, she suddenly stepped into a passageway where the lighting was perfectly normal. And in front of her, in the clear print of present day Colonial writing, were the bold words. CENTRAL HUB. Central hub? Sheba thought. Isn't that where Apollo was? She no longer cared whether or not the placement of that sign and the lighting was a trap from an old enemy. She only felt a determination to go through that central hub, no matter what. "This way," Delambre pointed to an access hatch. "That leads to the Central Hub." "How is it different from the one I was in before?" Apollo asked, feeling an edge of skepticism return. "You were in the central hub of an old Cylon baseship, Captain. The Central Hub I'm talking about is the one that feeds out into all areas of this ship. So massive it makes the one you were in seem insignificant. That's why it's big enough to have so many of them ready to strike at once." Apollo chided himself for doubting the Callisto warrior. "I get the picture. And I know it can't be a pretty one." "This is where the newcomers always crack," Delambre stepped inside, "The mind is too overcome by terror, and if they've already been hit by acid, they're a ripe target the instant they see what's in store for them in the Hub. I've seen it so many times these last five hundred yahrens." "But if a Cylon baseship manned by robots was captured by them, what happened to the centurions?" "All reconstituted for spare parts and amalgamated into the ship for other purposes, of course," Delambre sighed as he kept himself hunched to move through the access tunnel. "Living beings, no matter where they come from, have their own fate as you've found out." Apollo realized it wasn't an appropriate time to ask, but the methodical part of his mind knew he had to ask these questions, or else he'd be haunted by them for a long time to come. "Colonel, before we go further, I have to ask you about those who preceded me here. Were there any other humans who didn't come from the Colonies? Humans from...another civilization?" Delambre turned around and smiled thinly, "You're asking me about the Thirteenth Tribe, Captain?" Apollo was taken aback by his familiarity with the term, "Well, I----," "The answer is yes," he interrupted, "But I haven't time to explain that, and neither do you. Because there, Captain," he looked ahead and motioned his hand, "There lies your way out. If you can make it." Apollo came alongside him and stared into the chasm before him. His jaw fell open in both amazement and horror over the spectacle that lay before him. He saw a gigantic circular shaft, nearly four times wider than the one he'd fallen into before that seemed to stretch down to a bottomless void. In the center of the chasm were smaller circular deck levels that seemed to be supported by some kind of base at wherever the bottom of the core lay. Consoles and computers seemed to dot each deck, each of which had an access walkway that led out into open hatchways that fed back into the kind of tunnels he and Delambre now found themselves in. But what made the sight all the more formidable and terrifying was the sight of massive hordes of the red colored demonic beasts, some crawling on their hind legs, others gliding above the deck surfaces with their wings outstretched. It was all too clear to Apollo that Delambre's estimate of a hundred had been somewhat conservative. "My God," Apollo whispered, "But...how can this lead to the way out?" Delambre pointed across to an opening for which no access walkway led into. "That's the way out, Captain. That leads to a tunnel that at the end exits into the passageway you first entered when you left the landing bay. One left turn after you reach the end of the tunnel in that shaft will put you back at your starting point." "No walkway," Apollo tried to overcome the fear he was feeling now and formulate a plan, "How can anyone gain access to that tunnel without...making some kind of jump?" "Therein lies the question no one could ever find an answer to before it was too late and they'd surrendered," Delambre said as he began to back away into the tunnel they'd been going through, "And now...I suppose it's time for me to bid you farewell." "Wait a centon," Apollo grabbed him by the arm, "Where do you think you're going?" "Captain, I've done all I can for you and your friend. I've told you all the information, and the rest depends on your own strength of mind. If I had the answer to tell you the easiest way to get to that inaccessible opening, I'd do it. But I don't, and I can't." "All right then, but you've got to help us, still. You don't fear them. They have no effect on you." "Captain, you don't understand," Delambre sighed as he tried to move away, but again Apollo's grip held him back. "You're fracking right, I don't understand," Apollo found himself growing testy, "Don't you want to find a way out to end your misery and let your soul be at peace at last? Isn't that why you called out and asked for help?" "That was so I could get your attention and tell you everything," Delambre said, "The truth of the matter, Captain, is that I'm resigned to my fate. The eternal suffering of what was once my fellow crewmates from the Callisto was completely my doing for pushing Harriman into a quadrant of space we never should have explored. I'm to blame for what happened to them, and that means the last thing I deserve is freeing myself from this place so my soul can have eternal peace." Apollo exploded, "That is felgercarb! Okay, you made an error in judgment, but it wasn't you who made the crew turn to him and swallow his con game that enslaved them. They made those choices of their own free will, and that is where ultimate responsibility for our fates rest, not because of what others did to us, but because of the choices we as individuals make! You managed to save your soul because of your choice as an individual to stay strong. Well maybe after five hundred yahrens you should finally show some of that strength again, instead of wallowing in an eternity of self-pity that just played right into the enemy's hands!" Delambre said nothing, but Apollo found that he wasn't trying to wriggle free of his grasp. Instead, he had an almost contemplative look in his expression, as though he'd heard an insight that had never before occurred to him during the centuries of torment. "A commander is...responsible for the lives of his crew, Captain." He finally said. "For their lives, yes, but not for the state of their souls, Colonel Delambre," Apollo emphasized, "That was their choice, and the reason why they're like that now is because they lacked the strength to risk their lives to save their souls. They forgot one of the simplest passages of the Book of the Word that whoever tries to save his life can ultimately lose more if his salvation is the price he pays to try and save his life." Delambre sighed forlornly, "It's been so long since anyone quoted the Book of the Word to me." "It usually has all the answers," for the first time, Apollo tried to sound like a friend, "Colonel, please come. Help us, and we can help you at last." A centon went by before the Callisto executive officer finally nodded. He crawled next to Apollo so that they were both looking out into the open chasm. "There are rungs beneath us that we can take to drop down to the walkway one level below," he said, "That's the way to get started." He paused, "Soon, they'll find a way to lead your friend to us. That's when the final phase for them will take place." Sheba saw that the path that led to the mysterious Central Hub funneled in to what looked like a walkway. When she stepped out onto it, she suddenly became aware of a towering chasm above and below her, with smaller circular deck levels towering in the center of the shaft. As she felt awed by her surroundings, she suddenly felt the pain in her leg act up again and she collapsed to the floor. She lay sprawled on her stomach, trying to regather her strength when she heard a low rumbling noise that soon shook through the walkway. When she saw cracks forming, she realized that it was starting to crumble beneath her, and that if she didn't get off it soon, she ran the risk of plunging below to the bottom of the vast and seemingly endless central core. Sheba struggled to her feet, and with the terror rising inside her managed to stagger off the walkway and onto one of the circular deck levels just as the walkway finally collapsed. Apollo and Delambre had begun descending the rungs lining the shaft that would enable them to drop onto a nearby walkway. At first, the captain refused to look down but then realized he needed to keep his eye on how far he and Delambre would need to descend. His eye then caught of something further down the shaft on another walkway some three levels beneath the one he was moving toward. He could see someone moving, and then stumbling. And as he heard a rumble, he could see the figure get up again and stagger out onto the deck level in the center of the shaft. When he saw the figure get to a standing position, Apollo immediately saw the unmistakable sight of flowing, shoulder-length brown hair. "Sheba!" he called out. "Captain, no!" Delambre looked up and motioned angrily, "If you see your friend, don't call out!" Apollo looked out at the center of the hub and suddenly saw what seemed like a vast number of eyes focus squarely on him. Hateful, red eyes of the hideous beasts they belonged to. And then suddenly all the light in the Central Hub abruptly went out plunging the vast chamber into total darkness. Chapter Six Sheba had barely gotten to her feet, when she suddenly heard the sound of Apollo's voice from somewhere above calling down to her. But before she could find the strength to call back, she saw the entire hub plunged into total darkness. As her eyes tried to readjust to the dark, she became aware of several pairs of eyes staring at her. The red, unfeeling eyes of the demons that inhabited this vessel that could only have been designed in Hades itself. "Are you afraid?" she suddenly heard a chorus of voices in that hideous, low and high pitched tone, that she could only assume came from the ones in front of her. "No!" Sheba shouted aloud. "I refuse to be afraid! I won't be afraid!" "Sheba, hang on!" she suddenly heard Apollo's voice from above again, "We're almost out of here, but stay strong!" The sound of his voice produced a reassurance within Sheba that she found overcoming both the sting in her leg, and the fear that had been boiling up insider her and threatening to explode in a display of emotional hysteria. But as she saw the pairs of eyes in the darkness approaching her, and saw thin wisps of smoke coming from the floor which indicated they were secreting that acid that had touched her before, she knew that she couldn't just wait for her boyfriend to come to her rescue. More than ever, she needed to find her skills as a warrior deep inside her and apply them. She aimed her laser pistol at one pair of eyes and fired. She saw for a brief instant the glow of a human in a med-tech uniform. But behind the figure, she could see a large bank of consoles and what she realized had to be some kind of lift apparatus that like the lifts aboard the Galactica, conceivably offered access to the circular decks both above and below. Time for a new approach. She aimed her laser pistol not at the eyes, but this time to the right. As she hoped, her laser blasts struck one of the consoles, sending up a shower of sparks that caused the beast in front of her to stagger slightly, and more importantly give her a clear path toward the lift. She ran as fast as she could, and could smell the acid dripping from the beasts bodies as she moved past them. Finally, in the blackness she could feel the back rail of what she knew was the lift apparatus. Now all she had to do was find a way to get it to move up. Sheba saw the menacing red-eyes moving toward her again. She fired off another shot, to give herself some illumination. When it struck one of the beasts and gave off the glow of what it's former appearance had been, she looked to her right and left in search of any kind of control panel. But she had yet to find one when the glow faded and there was blackness again. Feeling the tension rise as the eyes drew closer and she could smell the acid again, she opened fire again. And before she could turn her head to search again, her eyes widened when she realized that the brief flash she had failed to take note of the first time was a man wearing a Colonial flight uniform. One of recent vintage. She fired again, and got another view of the former man. And her mouth opened in horror. "Oh my God," she whispered, "No, please tell me it isn't so." The beast was now only several steps away, and feeling a wave of panic, Sheba flailed her arms about to try and find in the dark any kind of control switch. Finally, she felt her arm brush against a lever of some kind and suddenly the apparatus began to move downward. "No!" she felt a wave of panic as she groped in the dark and found it again, and this time pulled it toward her, which she felt certain would send it in the opposite direction. To her relief, the momentum stopped and the lift began to move upward. But first, it came level with the deck she had just been on and she saw again the eyes of that beast that had just sent the biggest fright of her life through her. She fired at it again, and this time there was no mistaking her earlier suspicion. The beast before her had once been a junior pilot she'd flown with aboard the Pegasus. As the lift moved up, Sheba collapsed to the floor and felt on the verge of breaking down at last. If she had seen someone from the Pegasus then did that ultimately explain her father's fate, and that of everyone else she had once known? "It's too late, my princess." Sheba looked up from her sitting position, and silhouetted against the blackness was the white robed figure of the one who had beguiled her once. "Come," he smiled warmly and extended his hand, "Let me end your suffering." "What do we do now?" Apollo felt a wave of frustration as he held tight to the rungs in the blackness. "Drop down to the walkway, that's what!" Delambre barked, "They're about to move right at you and give you an acid spray!" Apollo glanced back and could see two of the creatures eyes flying towards him. For an instant, he was reluctant to let go of the rungs and trust Delambre that the walkway would be below, and that he could easily find himself falling endlessly into the chasm. But as he saw them coming nearer at increasing speed, he knew he had no choice. He let go of the rung and felt himself falling down through the dark, his legs curled up and waiting for some kind of impact. To his relief, he felt his feet hit solid ground just four microns after letting go. He had landed on the walkway without even twisting his ankle. "Delambre?" he called. "Right behind you," the Callisto executive officer had a more determined edge in his voice. "The deck levels have to be in front of you. Move!" Apollo began to sprint, and as he did he could feel the walkway start to crumble beneath his feet. His heart began to pound faster as he quickened his pace and could feel the sensation of the walkway support beam buckling under. But then, he felt the reassuring touch of more solid ground that indicated he'd found the circular deck of the central hub. He turned around and could hear a roar indicating that the walkway had fallen below. "Delambre, where are you?" "Still here. I wouldn't have felt a thing even if I'd fallen all the way to the bottom though," he put a hand on his shoulder for reassurance in the dark. "How do we get close to that open hatch when there's no access from any of these decks?" "If we can find some way of getting up to the next level, then we'd be as close as we can get to it. That's all I know." "You'll never reach it. You can not reach it." Apollo and Delambre both spun round and could see outlined by a red glow two of the beasts, and two walking skeletons, both wearing Colonial uniforms. "Give in. There can only be more terror. More suffering." "Put a sock in it, you ugly piece of daggit waste!" Apollo shouted angrily, wishing he could match Starbuck's gift for cutting insults. But right now, it was a better weapon then showing whatever fear he felt inside, especially with Sheba so close and yet so far. The two beasts began to slouch closer, and Apollo could see from the smoke rising from the ground that the deadly acid Delambre had warned him about was now as great a threat as it had ever been. And with the walkway behind them now gone, Apollo had at that instant, run out of ideas on what to do next. "I don't care what you say," Sheba shook her head, "I will never follow you, no matter how much torture, no matter what you show me. You won't make me like....them!" "Even when it could mean a chance at saving your father, and freeing those you knew and loved from bondage?" his voice remained gentle and soothing. Sheba felt the sea of emotions inside crashing together with agonizing force. She was positive she had seen a former Pegasus warrior, and now....if what he said was true, could her mind bear the thought of her father and all the others she'd known from the Pegasus going through this kind of endless torment? And could she pass up even the most unholy of opportunities to save them? "Think, Sheba. You are the key to saving them. Only you. Turn your back on them, and you condemn them forever with no remaining hope." The pain in her leg was becoming unbearable, as was the impact of his words. She could feel herself start to waver, on the verge of finally giving up. But then...drawing from all the remaining strength inside her, she forced herself back to her feet, and then looked at him with cold, contempt. "I think you're lying," Sheba hissed, "I don't believe my father or anyone else from the Pegasus is aboard this ship other than that one warrior. I think you're exploiting the fact that at some time in the last yahren, a lone warrior was lost on a patrol mission that you enslaved as bait for the sole purpose of trying to spring this trap on me, just to gain your sick revenge." The smile faded from his face and he backed away from her. "I'm right," Sheba increased the level of hate in her voice, "If you had enslaved the Pegasus, I would have seen signs of that aboard this ship. I would have seen more than just one warrior I remembered whenever I took a shot at those minions of yours. I would have seen recognizable markings like the ones I saw from the Callisto. But I didn't see them because they're not here, and because you are a liar about all things. And you can't ever trap me again or take advantage of my loneliness like you did the last time." He glared at her and slowly nodded, "You're remarkable, Sheba. You've become much stronger-willed since we last met. But there are still ways of making you yield." And then, with a motion of his robes, he was gone. Sheba leaned back against the side of the lift, and exhaled in relief. And her relief increased when suddenly, the lights inside the Central Hub suddenly went back on. Apollo was starting to feel the first sign of true panic, when suddenly his eyes were dazzled by the sight of the lights in the Hub going back on. Delambre was looking about in amazement as well, since he could never recall a time when there had been this much illumination inside the monster derelict. The intense light had the effect of causing the beasts to back away, as well as the walking skeletons, which suddenly changed back into the shapes of the beasts before their eyes. "Some kind of tactical change," Delambre said, "But why?" "Apollo!" They turned and saw the lift apparatus suddenly come to a stop on their deck level. Sheba was standing there, beckoning to them. "Sheba!" Apollo ran toward her and when he reached her, he took her outstretched arms and passionately kissed and embraced her. "Oh Apollo, it was horrible. It was...." she shuddered in his arms, not wanting to say the name of who she meant. "I know," Apollo held her tenderly, feeling only gratitude and relief that they'd found each other again. He then reluctantly loosened her hold on her and motioned behind him, "Sheba, this is Colonel Delambre. He's not transformed, and that's all I can say right now." Sheba looked at the haggard middle-aged man before her and nodded, "I know who you are," she said, "And...I'm not surprised to see you." "You found the data tapes," Delambre smiled thinly. "Captain, Lieutenant. I'm glad you've found each other, but I think we'd better take advantage of this sudden light quickly before they spring their next move. As soon as the light goes out or dims, you can be sure they'll start moving again," he motioned his thumb toward the cluster of demons some twenty paces away who seemed frozen and immobile. "You're right," Apollo nodded and looked up, "Sheba, the way out is up there," he pointed. She looked up and her eyes focused on the circular opening in the wall that was just below the next level walkway but had no access path or even rungs on the chasm side to reach it. "It's out of reach," Sheba said, "How do we get to it?" "What about this lift you took to get up here?" Apollo asked, "Maybe we can stop it at the point where we could be close enough to get into it." "Easier said than done, Captain," Delambre stepped up to them and pointed at the back of the lift, "You'd have to break that wall to get it aligned with the hatch and make a jump of about three metrones across the open shaft. And from this narrow interior, that's not easy for even an expert jumper." "True," Apollo said, "What if we were to ride on the top of the lift and not have to break the wall and jump through the wall opening?" "An easier jump," Sheba admitted, "But...still risky." "We have no other choice. Sheba, you and Delambre climb on top and brace yourselves. I'll need to stay in here to throw the switch and stop it at the right point." "Captain," Delambre said gently, "You get on top, and I'll handle the switch. It's more important for you to be in position already that it is for me." "He's right, Apollo," Sheba said. For the first time in a very long while, Apollo found himself smiling, "Okay, you win. Let's get ourselves ready." Apollo gave Sheba a boost and she managed to climb on top of the lift apparatus. To her relief, it was level rather than sloped in shape which meant that more than one person would be able to keep their footing while it was in motion. Delambre then helped boost Apollo up, and the black-haired captain took his place next to her. He wrapped his arm around her in support, and she instinctively rested her head on his shoulder. "Okay, I'm going inside and throwing the switch." Before the Callisto warrior was inside though, the lights had already begun to dim slightly, and Apollo and Sheba could both see the immobile demons start to show signs of movement. "Hurry, Colonel," Apollo said, feeling the unease start to return. Finally, they heard the sound of the lift's gears start and felt the apparatus start to rise. Apollo and Sheba both had their eyes on the hole that led to their escape route, waiting for it to become level with the top of the lift. "Okay, stop!" Apollo called out. "It's level!" Abruptly, the vehicle came to a stop, and they could now look across some ten feet and see the hole beckoning. But in that space between them was a plunge that led straight to the invisible bottom of the Central Hub and if this weren't timed just right, they ran the risk of suffering one of the worst childhood dreams come to life. Apollo got to his stomach and reached down as far as his arm could extend, "Delambre, try and grab my hand and I'll pull you up!" He could see Delambre's hands emerge and planting them on the edge of the roof. Then, letting out a grunt he could see the aged man swing out, his legs dangling in the open space. Apollo grabbed Delambre's right wrist and with all his strength, pulled him up until finally the Callisto officer collapsed on his stomach to the roof. "Okay," Delambre tried to catch his breath. "Now comes the final phase. Get in there, and it's all over." "Apollo, we shouldn't be carrying a lot of deadweight on us when we make that jump," Sheba said. "We don't need any of this felgercarb we've been carrying any longer." "Agreed," Apollo nodded as he detached his laser pistol and the remaining items from his pack. They clattered to the ground, and his mini-scanner actually bounced up and then fell down the shaft. It was over fifteen microns before they finally heard the dim sound of it striking the invisible bottom far below. As soon as they had shed their gear, they noticed the lights growing dimmer. "We're running out of time," Sheba felt the uneasiness returning, "Which of us makes the jump first?" "I'm still the Squadron Leader, Sheba," Apollo said, "That means this is my call. I take the risk first. Besides, I want to be able to pull you in if I have to." The dimness of the shaft began to increase, causing them to look up and down uneasily and see that the beasts were now moving forward, albeit at a slow rate. "All right, here goes," Apollo tried to blot out all the fear and apprehension going through him, and instead tried to send his mind back to the days of basic training at the Academy when these kinds of physical exercises were part of the curriculum. The ability to leap quickly in the event one had to jump through a rapidly closing door. The ability to jump behind a barricade if someone threw a hand detonator that couldn't be thrown back in time. He needed to think of this as no different from that kind of exercise that he'd been able to do so many times back then. He positioned himself at the back end of the roof, crouched himself and broke into the running start he needed to give him maximum forward momentum when he finally made the leap. One step...two...three....four.....jump! He felt the sensation of flying across the open air and had his hands extended to grab hold of the opening to safety, when in mid-flight the lights suddenly went out and the Hub was again completely dark. Chapter Seven The instant the lights went out, Apollo knew he had to quickly remember where the hatch was, and keep his hands extended where he'd anticipated it would be. One endless micron passed and he felt his left hand grab the edge of the opening, but he could feel his right hand bang against the side of the shaft, sending a wave of pain through him that he knew made his hold on the ledge totally precarious. "Apollo!" he heard Sheba's voice cry out from across. "I'm okay, I've...got hold of the ledge!" Apollo managed to shout back, and then he let out a grunt of pain. "Apollo, are you okay?" there was no mistaking the fear in her voice. "Just my damned right hand...I," he grunted, "Can't get enough leverage to pull myself in!" "Hang on!" Sheba cried, "Colonel, what can we do?" "I wish I knew," Delambre felt a sick air of defeat coming into his voice. He had seen so many others before fail so much earlier than this, but to see these people on the brink of success left him with the most hollow feeling he'd ever known in his five centuries of captivity. "But he's got to pull himself in by himself." "Just give me a centon," Apollo took a breath, but already he was feeling the strain building up in his left arm. Slowly, he lifted his right arm up to get another hold on the ledge, but the pain was making it hard to lift. "I----," "Apollo, don't let go!" There were too many things happening for Apollo to get his mind back at an even keel. The time he needed to catch his breath and collect his strength was putting an increasingly painful strain on his left arm, and he still didn't feel as if his right arm could handle the attempt to grab hold of the ledge. "Oh my God," Delambre whispered. "Look." Both Sheba and Delambre could see several of the winged beasts flying up from the darkened shaft and coming alongside the spot where they knew Apollo was hanging on for dear life. Two on each side seemed to hover, their mouths open. "Acid," Delambre whispered, "He's totally vulnerable. That stuff hits him, and then his will will eventually collapse." "No," Sheba whispered, "Please, no." Suddenly, a loud laugh filled the giant Central Hub. And then, Sheba heard that voice she had managed to defiantly stand up to just centons before. "Well, my princess, what do you think of this new predicament? Your lover is trapped, surrounded by my minions who could enslave his soul in an instant, and you have no way of escape." "Sheba, whatever you do, don't listen to him!" Apollo called out sternly, "My life doesn't matter next to yours." In the dark that was only pierced by the red glow of the demons, Sheba found herself looking up angrily, "Show yourself. No more games, show yourself!" Abruptly, the lift apparatus roof was illuminated so that Sheba could see Delambre standing next to her, and three paces in front of her, the robed figure of Count Iblis. "Still defiant and challenging," he said with admiration, "This newfound strength does wonders for your personality. You are truly your father's daughter." "Don't bother making me an offer, Iblis," Sheba showed only hate in her voice. "Whatever it is, I refuse." "Yes!" Apollo called over, feeling the strain increase, but now he finally managed to plant his right hand on the ledge. "And that goes for me too! You have no power to command anyone who refuses to follow you, and no power to take their lives away!" "Of course!" Iblis said mockingly. "Colonel Delambre is living proof of that. But as he knows, I have the power to keep you both alive in this vessel for eternity where the price for not following me is never-ending terror and fear. That is what I do to those who think they can take satisfaction in refusing to follow me." "But only in places like this, right Iblis? Not away from here, though. That's when you have to watch yourself lest those who keep their eye on you step in to enforce the rules even you are bound by!" Apollo knew he had to keep talking to prevent the terror from infiltrating him. "This is my dominion," Iblis said, "Where you chose to enter of your own free will to satisfy your curiosity. But that curiosity is your undoing unto eternity." He paused, "Unless of course, dear Sheba, you choose to provide a more hopeful outcome for the one you care so much about. Even more than you care about your own father." "You will not make me waver," Sheba said, "Not even with your demonic acid. I can't be afraid of someone I've faced down before, no matter what he throws at me again. If you want to consign us to Colonel Delambre's fate, then go right ahead because we'll just keep trying again to find another way out even if it takes us five hundred yahrens like it has for him." "Yes!" Delambre suddenly shouted, "Yes, and I will help them! And I will gain strength from the fact that for the first time in five hundred yahrens, I am truly not alone." He then turned away from Iblis toward the chasm, "Captain, if you let go you will not die because Iblis can only condemn you to my fate, and you know he can not harm me physically aboard this ship!" Apollo suddenly in a flash felt all his strength come back. "Of course," he said aloud as it hit him, "Of course! If I let go, you have to save my life because like last time you can not take the life of one who has not freely given himself to you! That means I can let go of this ledge and plunge to the bottom of this shaft and I'll be able to try again, and because I know the way out, I know it's only a matter of time before I'd succeed, and we all find a way out!" "Yes!" Sheba joined in, "You are ultimately powerless to stop us! We know the way out, and we won't bend no matter how much your demons jump out at us or try to use acid on us. We will not let it weaken us! We are strong, and you are weak!" "What's it going to be, Iblis?" Apollo could now feel the strength to start vaulting himself up into the ledge, "Do you let us go now and plot a new strategy for another day, or do you just bore yourself by having us come back and try again and again until we inevitably make it out?" "Or do you risk the wrath of those who even you fear by destroying our lives without our giving in?" Sheba taunted. "We have seen their power, and we have seen you cower before them." The smile was gone from Iblis's face, replaced by an angry scowl. But both Sheba and Delambre recognized it as the expression of one who had been backed into a corner he couldn't argue his way out of. "Go," he said contemptuously, "Return to your miserable lives for which you will not have as much time to enjoy as you think. There shall still be another time and place of my choosing when I decree it." He then waved his arm and then in the blink of an eye was gone. The lights suddenly came back on, and again the demons that had moved so perilously close became frozen and immobile. Sheba and Delambre looked across and could see Apollo grunting as he finally lifted himself inside the opening. "I'm in!" Apollo exclaimed, "Okay, get ready." he then removed his jacket, "I'll use this to pull you in if you need to." Sheba nodded and then backed up to the edge of the roof. She then took the running start and leapt across the chasm. Her jump proved more effective than Apollo's had been as she landed half inside the opening and only needed to pull her legs up inside. "Thank the Lords," Apollo gave her a quick kiss and embrace and then looked back across to Delambre. "Okay, Colonel. Jump!" For the first time, the Callisto executive officer seemed at peace. He backed up and then leapt across, and with Apollo and Sheba both stretching their arms out, they managed to grab him in mid-air by each arm and haul him in. Slowly, they all got to their feet and without looking back moved down the passageway until after three centons of walking, it finally came to an end. But instead of an open door, they saw only a wall that suggested a dead end. "Colonel?" Apollo looked at Delambre with an edge of uneasiness. "That's thin sheet metal, Captain," Delambre said, "Knock yourself against it and it will give way. That's why you didn't see any open hatchways when you first entered the passageway from the landing bay." "What kind of ship used thin plating like that?" Sheba asked. "The ship from the Thirteenth Tribe," the Callisto executive officer said simply. Apollo's eyes widened and he grabbed him, "Colonel, while there's still time you've got to tell me about that!" "There isn't time, Captain," Delambre shook his head. "We managed to outwit Iblis, but as long as you're still on this ship, he has time to change his mind and make one last attempt. Save your questions for another time and another place, and get back to the things that matter most right now. For the both of you." "He's right, Apollo," Sheba said, "Let's break this thing open, now." Reluctantly, the captain nodded and the three of them all threw their bodies against the plating. Apollo felt it bend and deform under the first blow. Finally, on the second attempt, it gave way and a large hole opened up, revealing the pipe-laden ceiling and grayish walls that Apollo and Sheba both recognized from when they'd entered this compartment in what seemed like an eternity ago. "Left turn," Delambre pointed. They looked and Apollo could see a brightly lit opening at the end. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel in so many ways. Two centons later, they stepped out into the landing bay and saw their vipers still there. Apollo could never remember a time when he found the sight of his ship more beautiful than now. "We've made it," Apollo said, "Sheba, get in your ship and power it up. You maneuver yourself for launch, and I'll follow." Sheba nodded and dashed across the tarmac toward her viper. As soon as she had vaulted herself up and into the cockpit, Apollo turned back to Delambre with gratitude. "Colonel, you saved us by giving us the enlightenment we needed as to what we were up against," Apollo said, "I wish we could save you and bring you back to the Galactica with us." "It's not possible, Captain," Delambre said, "Once I'm away from this ship, five hundred yahrens of aging will catch up with me at last. And...I don't think it'd be fair to you to watch that happen in the back of your viper and then have a decayed skeleton to explain." He smiled, "Besides, even if I could live outside this ship, I don't think my system can handle the culture shock. I just want...to be at peace for eternity now. To be with those like Harriman and the others who died before Iblis got his hands on their souls, and...with my family again too." "But if you don't want to get off in my viper, then how..." "Don't worry," Delambre said reassuringly, "I know what to do. You just get into that viper and go back to where you belong." he smiled again, "And don't ever let go of that girl for as long as you live." "I won't," Apollo nodded, "That's a promise." "Godspeed, Captain," Delambre clasped his hand and shook it. "May the Lords of Kobol receive you with peace for eternity, Colonel Delambre." Apollo returned it. "They will," Delambre nodded, "Thank you for restoring my faith in their goodness." The sound of Sheba's viper canopy snapping shut and the sound of her systems powering up finally convinced Apollo it was time to go. He turned and sprinted over to his viper and lifted himself inside. Delambre watched as Sheba's viper swung around so that it was now facing the landing bay exit. And then, the engines roared to life and he saw it exit the landing bay and disappear into the starry blackness of space. Thirty microns later, he saw Apollo's viper move into position and then leave as well. The one-time executive officer of the Battlestar Callisto then lifted his arm in a farewell salute and made his way over to a control panel that he knew would still be there after all these centuries since this had been the landing bay of his own ship. He opened the panel door and saw the familiar words in Colonial printing. LANDING BAY DECOMPRESSION UNIT. One switch would deactivate the zone that emanated from the landing bay and allowed ships to land in here and for people to stand comfortably inside without opening or closing any kind of hatch. It had been one of the revolutionary breakthroughs of Colonial technology that had enabled the first battlestars to be constructed at the onset of the war with the Cylons. Delambre pressed the button and heard a popping sound as the force field slowly turned off. He found himself smiling in blissful contentment until the process finally completed and his life came at last to a long overdue end. For over a centon after they launched, no words passed between Apollo and Sheba. It was as if neither of them had the strength to believe they had actually gone through the experience they had shared, or if it had all been a nightmare. Finally, when Apollo looked back over his shoulder and saw that the Derelict was no longer visible, he was able to break the silence. "Sheba, what does your chronometer read?" Sheba activated the switch and let out a disbelieving exclamation, "It says it's only been eight centars since we entered that thing." "Which means that if we just head back, we'll only have been three centars overdue. Barely long enough for them to have started worrying, but not long enough to have panicked or for them to have sent out some kind of search and rescue mission." He shook his head, "I feel like we were in that thing for as long as Delambre was." "Apollo," Sheba sounded drained, "What do we tell them?" The captain sighed, "I say we tell them nothing about this. Not unless, God forbid, the Fleet runs into that monster, but that's not going to happen. I know Iblis's not going to use that ship as bait ever again, and certainly not this soon after failing. Besides," he shrugged, "Who would believe us, other than the Commander?" "You're right," Sheba nodded, "We...tell them we were unable to chart out the full extent of our patrol sweep, and had to power down to make internal repairs." "Sounds good to me," Apollo said and then took a breath, "Sheba...." "Yes?" "Sheba, I----," he faltered for an instant, but then cleared his throat as he realized he needed to show as much strength now as he had back in that demonic hell. "I just...wanted to tell you that while we still have a problem to deal with regarding Boxey and his attitude, that doesn't change how I feel about you and what I want us to do." Sheba tilted her head and glanced over at Apollo's viper. "What do you mean, Apollo?" He looked over so he could see her face, "Sheba, will you marry me?" For ten microns, there was only the sounds of their viper engines, until finally, Apollo could see Sheba smile brightly at him. "Yes," she said with all the sincerity and joy she could communicate. "And Apollo, I know in my heart we can make things work with Boxey." "Hey, if we can talk Iblis down, why should we have any trouble talking sense to a good little boy like Boxey?" Apollo chuckled, "But...Sheba, let's not deal with it when we get back. Because...after what we just went through, the first thing I want to do is take you over to the Rising Star and just spend some...time with you." A coy edge entered her smile, "It will be my pleasure, Captain." The six centars that remained in their flight back to the battlestar seemed to go by quickly in the blink of an eye for them. Until finally, they could see the reassuring sight of the Galactica and the various ships of the Fleet surrounding her. "Galactica, this is Alpha Patrol requesting clearance to land in starboard bay." "Apollo, thank the Lords!" Adama's reassured voice sounded through their helmets. "We were beginning to worry." Apollo then glanced over at Sheba and flashed her one last smile before it would be time to move ahead of her and set himself up for landing approach. "I can't imagine why, Father," he chuckled, "We'll talk to you when we're aboard." Epilogue The sonic razor's buzz was not as strong as it had once been, indicating that the power cells were dying. Sooner or later, it would cease to function and the only tools that would be left to handle the simple task of shaving would be a crude knife and some water. So be it, Baltar thought disdainfully as he turned the unit off and rubbed his face. The last thing he intended to do was 'go native' as they used to say in the Colonies and just grow a beard to compensate for the lack of decent shaving equipment. As far as he was concerned, he intended to maintain a civilized appearance for however long his lonely exile on this planet he'd been set loose on would continue. Which as of today had now reached three sectars and two cycles. He went back to the small tent that he had assembled on that first day to act as his primary shelter, and carefully checked the status of the short-range communications transmitter he'd been provided with. Since that day when Apollo and Starbuck had left him on this habitable and reasonably temperate, but incredibly boring world, he had made sure that the transmitter was kept in an automatic operating state at all centars of the day. Transmitting again and again the simple Cylon code he recalled from his days as a baseship commander when power had been his, and when so much more had seemingly been in his grasp, only to see the opportunities thwarted again and again. Until finally, the fates had conspired to make him a prisoner of the Galactica, and to see him forced to regain his freedom only at the cost of providing intelligence that had been critical to the destruction of a lone Cylon baseship. Which was one fact that he would never let the Cylon High Command know of when he was rescued. They would only hear a convincing tale of how he had escaped captivity and been forced to crash on this planet, where he had then managed to survive while waiting for rescue. A rescue that he needed to believe would come one day, since it was the only goal left for him to live for. And then...he could at last resume his quest to achieve his revenge on Adama. For despite the deference he'd been forced to show when he'd struck that bargain to win his freedom, he knew that only the gift of total absolution and a full pardon from Adama would have been sufficient to dim the hatred he still felt in his heart for the Galactica commander. For he still blamed Adama for forcing him to become the Cylons permanent ally when Adama had rejected his offer of a counterstrike against the Cylons during an encounter on the planet Kobol. And nothing could ever convince him that his hatred of Adama for that was unjust. No pointing out how his own delusions of power and lack of faith in human civilization had put him in an untenable position to begin with when he'd made the decision to sell out the human race to the Cylons in the phony peace settlement, hoping naively that both he and his wife Ayesha would be able to rule their own colony together as part of the Cylon Empire. Very seldom did Baltar think of his wife in the yahren and a half since the Destruction, convinced as he was that she had been a victim of that carnage that had seen him double-crossed and his own colony destroyed. But on those isolated occasions he did think of her, it was only with the regret that he had not confided in her and told her why he had felt driven to do what he'd done. For he was sure that she would have understood, and given her own desire for power, she would have if anything been a further source of encouragement. And yet...the fear that she would not have understood, and the fear that she would in fact have expressed only hatred for him and his actions if she'd survived and been able to see him again, was why he only allowed himself the isoalted occasions to think of her. As if he was afraid that to think too much of her would make him suspect that perhaps there was more to her than he gave credit for. He shook the thoughts of his late wife aside and checked the transmitter again to make sure its components were in no danger of breaking down. Unlike his sonic razor, the apparatus showed no signs of weakening. Which was the only thing that mattered to him, absent the receipt and acknowledgment of his signal. "You need not worry about that device too much longer....old friend." Baltar spun around and his eyes widened in shock as he saw a man he had faced twice before, and who spoke in a voice he had heard on even more occasions. "You..." the human traitor whispered. "Of course. Who else would be capable of appearing to you in but the blink of an eye?" he moved toward him. "I come only to bring you a message of hope, Baltar. As I said to you once before in your prison cell. All is not lost. Things shall change...in time. Be patient for now, and your opportunity shall come." "Wait!" Baltar shouted. But before he could form another word, the image of Count Iblis was gone, and once again there was nothing around Baltar but the emptiness of the planet. Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny, the last battlestar Galactica, leads a ragtag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest. A shining planet...called Earth. August 6, 2004