Battlestar Galactica: Abducted
Virtual Season 3, Episode 8
By Senmut
April 18, 2012

Prologue 

From The Adama Journals:
     Foremost on my mind is that It has now been twenty standard days,
since we departed the RB-33 Space Station, a thoroughly lawless and
morally unrestrained trading outpost on the edges of Ziklagi-influenced
space, and resumed our voyage. There, in addition to acquiring new
reserves of tylium, as well as three new ships for our Fleet, we have
starcharts and data regarding the way ahead. For a while at least,
surprises should be few, and there has actually been time for a little
"Fleetwide hijinks" in the rare form of a humorous auction for a
BaseShip.  Levity is a rare commodity and is treasured when it comes our
way. 
     These new vessels, acquired by means perhaps best not scrutinized
too closely, come to us thanks to the good offices of Captain Byrne, and
his fellow Earthman, Commander Allen. Fairly spacious, two have already
begun being taken over by some of the less well-billeted families in the
Fleet, giving much needed additional room for our people. Sires Pelias
and Galerius have been handling the new living assignments, and so far,
all has gone relatively smoothly, Lords of Kobol be praised, both
logistically, and with the Council. 
     The Council itself no longer poses the kind of problems which it did
in the past, now that we have brought new members to the body, but so
long as I have to contend with Siress Lydia as Council Vice-President, I
will never be free of my misgivings about the future.  While she has done
nothing overtly disloyal, or even actionable, her new-found relationship
with Captain Byrne troubles me. While I can well understand his
attraction to the Siress, especially after so long being marooned on the
now-destroyed planet, it is her ultimate motivations that I find less
than clear. Siress Lydia, as a number of us have seen, is not a woman to
be straightforward or above-board at the best of times, and now, with her
rapid capture of Byrne, I fear she has yet another new intrigue in the
works. That she will, at some point, attempt to use him against me I
doubt not. How he will stand, when that time arrives, I don't know. I
pray that he is a man of greater integrity than Lydia's usual run of
lovers, who have seemed more devoted to her sensual charms than any
higher moral or even legal precept. Perhaps the fact of Lydia helping to
finally settle the legal status of Byrne's daughter, while no doubt
welcome to them both, is itself nothing more than one more move in her
ultimate game. I pray not.
     In light of the recent happenings on the Agro Ship, the Council has
entered discussions regarding the overall mental health of our citizens,
both with pre-existing conditions and those simply subject to this
relatively inhuman journey. Shut up in ships, some of which were never
meant to carry passengers, while journeying across the stars for an
indeterminate period, our people are definitely at risk.  A task group of
physicians, counselors, bureauticians and representatives from our own
population, chaired by Tarnia, will meet sectonly to formulate an action
plan to address these on-going issues.  This has been looked at in the
past, especially in our Warrior population, but it is time to create a
cohesive and comprehensive plan for all our people.
     There is also the matter of Chief Twilly. In violation of
regulations too numerous to list, he has brought aboard the Fleet an
alien woman who can only be described as, God help us, a sexual slave,
that he purchased from slave dealers aboard the RB-33 station. Even more
appalling is that upon further investigation by Lieutenant Castor of
Security, it turns out that Twilly still had a Human woman to whom he was
legally married, an Astral Lounge barmaid named Phaedra, at the same time
he was married to both Gayla and Zeena. Were it not for our desperate
need of technically-trained people throughout the Fleet, I would slap him
into a cell on the Prison Barge at once, since his marriage to Phaedra
violated the terms of settlement regarding the affair that nearly
resulted in the loss of Agro-Ship One. However, our current needs
outweigh, sadly, such...legal niceties, so I have assigned him to the
engineering staff aboard the sanitation barge for the present, and also
ordered the immediate dissolution of his seal to Phaedra, an action to
which she was fully amenable, after a...discussion with him. Doctor Salik
tells me his bruises should be gone in a secton or so, and he won't lose
the vision in his right eye. His...acquisition is undergoing medical
examination presently. God help us if the IFB gets a hold of this story!
Or Baltar, for that matter. Much to my simultaneous relief and
uneasiness, we have heard nothing from our 'ally' for two entire days,
since the conclusion of the "bidding" over the mock-up BaseShip. Then
again, I doubt that Baltar would find the news worth exploiting. He'd
probably be more apt to give me one of those repelling smirks of his with
a "Problems, Adama?" remark. Best nothing happens to spoil what new-found
amity there is between us.
     I suppose that as this state of detente continues, and Baltar
continues to behave like both a model citizen, and a model ally, just as
his crew behaves in that fashion, I should strive more to resist the
temptation to make snide remarks even in private journal entries such as
these. Granted, the scar left on all of us by Baltar's treachery can
never be removed, but do I not at least as one who believes so much in
The Book of the Word and the concept of how redemption and forgiveness is
available to all people, no matter how great their sin, owe Baltar the
courtesy of hoping that he is truly reformed in spirit and soul as well?
Or at least making the attempt? If I'm not willing to even consider that,
then does that not make me a hypocrite of the first order when it comes
to the doctrines I tell myself that I try to live by? 
     Oh for the wisdom of the Lords, as I so often find myself saying.
     On that note, I still have yet to speak to Starbuck about Baltar's
request for him to become a liaison officer with the Cylons.  Despite
Apollo's reassurances, I still have reservations about sending the boy
over to a Base Ship where he was once imprisoned.  As well, putting him
in proximity with not only Baltar, but Ayesha-the woman his father was
briefly engaged to before her perceived duty and sacrifice superseded her
personal feelings-well, I admit, I'm not sure exactly how Starbuck will
react ... and I'm not sure I want to find out.  He does have a habit of
surprising me, but those surprises aren't always pleasant and the fallout
can be disastrous, Shad Zil, in particular, coming to mind.  
     On a lighter note, I am pleased that all remains well, both with
Apollo and Sheba, as well as with Athena and Boomer. My daughter's
pregnancy is proceeding without difficulty, Dr. Salik informs me, thanks
be to God. I certainly am amenable to some good news for a change. 
     Also, and I confess this has me puzzled, there was a suggestion from
Captain Byrne around seconding a few Cylon Centurions for additional
"manpower" during conversion of the new ships.  He reportedly commented
that "Marvin" could report forthwith, but not without "Hymie". Upon
hearing this, Commander Allen at first seemed surprised, then burst into
raucous laughter, joined by Byrne. Obviously, there is some cultural
point here that I am missing.  It was explained to Captain Byrne by
several current and past Council members that mixing Centurions and
civilians at this point was premature, and he acquiesced, abandoning the
idea.  Obviously, the Earthman is not quite as sensitive to the idea of
integrating Cylons and Colonials.  Clearly, our people are not yet ready
for this, nor am I.

     Adama shut off his log recorder, and looked at his chrono. Almost
time! He went into his inner quarters to get ready. He looked out the
port, at the vibrantly-colored nebula the Fleet was skirting at present.
A roiling expanse of gas and debris, it was lit by a dynamically active
neutron star deep within, giving them all a spectacular light display.
For a moment, he marveled at the wild beauty of the universe.
     Tonight was a small gathering in his quarters, of family, honorary
family, and their new arrivals. He liked to keep the connections with his
remaining family as tight as possible, and, he had to confess, his own
inner fascination with at last finding people from Earth, were behind
tonight's gathering. 
     Ding.
     Boomer and Athena were first, and Adama thought his daughter looked
radiant in her civilian dress. But, given her great resemblance, save for
her hair color, to her late mother, Ila, he was understandably
prejudiced. While he made a pretense of not showing it, he was anxious
for the birth of his grandchildren. 
     Commander Allen was next, his wife, a native of a planet called
Harkaelis, at his side. He wore what was, Adama had been informed, a
replica of his Earth uniform, from the military of "Australia", one of
Earth's various continental landmasses. Kalysha, for her part, sported a
neck-high, floor-length gown, of shimmering black, with some kind of
colored bands or jewelry sewn across the collar, with streamers trailing
down. There were no other decorations. The dress, in spite of its
plainness, seemed only to enhance her extreme physicality, made more
imminent by her unusual coloring.  
     Apollo and Sheba were late, Apollo's patrol having landed two
centons behind schedule, Captain Byrne in tow, like his fellow countryman
dressed in a replica of his old uniform, this one a sharply creased white
one. He'd heard that Byrne had insisted on several different uniforms,
each representing a different type used by his service branch, which in
addition to the "Dress Whites" he was wearing now, also included a dark
blue "Class A" style, and a more informal tan-colored one that served
more as a day-to-day work uniform. But in each case, Byrne had been
particular about also reconstructing the style of service decorations
that affixed the left breast of each uniform jacket for each class of
uniform, because, as he kept insisting, all that "fruit salad" had
special meaning for him (Adama found it amusing to hear campaign ribbons
described that way.  The preferred slang term in Colonial-speak had
always been "The heavy metal" a term that had made Byrne laugh, as if he
were familiar with it in another context).
     Byrne was accompanied by his daughter, but, much to Adama's relief,
Lydia had chosen not to join her newest conquest for the evening. Even
so, Adama couldn't help but wonder if the Siress not showing up was yet
another sign of her deviousness. If Lydia chose not to accompany her
current lover to this affair and made a point afterwards of not grilling
him for any information about what was said, then that meant Byrne could
only be further convinced that Lydia was not out to get Adama or
instinctively plot against him. Thus, if a crisis ever did come up that
pitted Lydia against Adama, she'd in the process, at least in her own
mind, further assure herself of Byrne's loyalty.
     Damn that woman, he thought idly and then let any further thoughts
of the Council Vice-President ( "Or is that President in charge of
vice?") pass from his mind as he saw Boxey bring up the rear of the new
arrivals.  
     A few centons later, Starbuck and Cassiopeia joined the group, the
couple looking animated, yet somehow relaxed. Adama couldn't help but
smile as Apollo, Starbuck and Boomer fell into the familiar routine of
ribbing one another, while amusing everyone present.  
     Dinner was a medley, with Adama trying to include as many Earth
dishes as they had yet interpreted. For her part, Jena was much more
restrained, comporting herself more quietly, than heretofore. She seemed
to be adapting well to the company of people, after so many yahrens of
near-isolation. Sheba is a good teacher, he told himself. Byrne chose
good role models for his daughter.  
     After talk of food, their various cultural associations, and how
well they were integrating into the Fleet, it was, as Allen put it,
"Movie time". Among the things salvaged from Byrne's ship, were discs,
containing numerous video and audio files. Once made compatible with
Colonial systems by Technician Hummer, it was now possible to watch
myriad examples of Earth entertainment, culture, science, and history.
Tonight's features were titled The Pink Panther, and Rear Window, with
something called a Bugs Bunny Cartoon, for Boxey.
     "What are you going to name the new ships?" asked Jena, afterwards,
of Adama. Like her father, she seemed to have an interest in things
nautical.
     "The old liner we've renamed the Caspia," he answered. "There was a
Princess, long ago, on Caprica, during the first, difficult times after
Settlement, by that name, and the sea south of Caprica City was named for
her."
     "Weird," muttered Allen. Adama looked at him, eyebrow raised in
question. "On Earth, there's a huge body of water, an inland sea on the
Asian Continent, that's called Caspian, Commander. Another one of those
parallels between our worlds."
     "So many," said Byrne. "I'm still finding all sorts of them."
     "Anyway, sorry to interrupt," said Allen. "You were saying. The
other ship?"
     "Yes. The second ship, the freighter. That's part of why I called
this little gathering tonight, Commander Allen. Since both you and your
fellow-countryman are experienced space-farers, and have been doing so
well adapting to our technology, I was going to offer you the Captaincy
of the vessel. The third one to you, Captain Byrne." There was a moment's
silence, broken only by the low vibration of the ship's engines. "If
you're willing." He smiled slightly.
     "Holy...well just dig a hole and bury me, it doesn't get better than
this!  I mean, me own ship!" said Allen. "I never thought...whaddya
think, Kal?"
     "Kobb has smiled upon you, Cedric," replied the Harkealean woman,
lifting her glass of ambrosia to him. "Say yes."
     He did. So did Byrne, to the helm of the other vessel, the transport
once belonging to the late, unlamented pirate, smuggler, and killer,
Krylon. Though not quite as large as Allen's catch, she was to Byrne's
mind...prettier.
     "Whatcha gonna call it?" asked Boxey. 
     "Well, I was thinking maybe...Constellation, after my old ship, back
home. I was head fighter pilot, when I served on her, Boxey."
     "Like my dad is here?" asked the boy, bright as always when the
topic of Apollo's position came up.
     "Pretty much. I was what we called a CAG, or 'Captain Air Group'"
     "Will ya tell me some stories sometime?" asked the boy. 
     "Sure," Byrne smiled. 
     "And some of 'em might even be true, me lad," grinned Allen.
     "And maybe sometime," said Byrne glaring at the Aussie, "when you're
tired of hearing a bunch of stories, I'll get a chance to teach you how
to play baseball."
     "Oi!" Allen threw up his arms in mock disgust, "Don't tell me you
want to corrupt these poor Colonials with that infernal Yank game."
     "I'll get them hooked on baseball before you ever get them hooked on
soccer! And don't even think of introducing them to 'Australian Rules
Football'! Saints preserve us!" he teasingly retorted at his old
colleague, and felt a warm rush of memories of their early days together,
and how he'd always be driving Allen crazy with his endless talk about
his devotion to "America's pastime".
     "Earth sports, eh?"  Starbuck quipped. "Well before you get to work
on any of us, you'd better let Apollo and me give you a crash course in
the fine art of triad."
     "But let them teach me the Earth games first!" Boxey then jumped in
again, fascinated by the conversation.
     "Be glad to Boxey," Byrne replied, "Heck, I'd do it tonight, but
unless I'm very much mistaken, it's probably already close to your
bedtime."
     "Which it will be, in about thirty centons," said Apollo, checking
his chrono. Boxey looked up at him, but Apollo was merciless. "Remember,
you have to give an oral report for instruction period, tomorrow, Boxey."
     "I know," he sighed in defeat.
     "What's it on?" asked Byrne. "His dissertation."
     "Early Colonial history. The first centiyahrens after Settlement,"
answered Apollo.
     "And you need to be bright and ready," added Sheba. "At your best."
     "Right, Mom," he replied. Deep inside, Sheba felt a warm glow of
satisfaction. Boxey almost always called her that, now. His acceptance
warmed her, deeply.
     "School, huh?" asked Jena. "Could I sit in, Commander?" she asked.
Adama said he would talk to the teacher, and clear it with her. Byrne
gave Adama an appreciative look. He very much wanted Jena to get a decent
education, certainly above what he'd been able to provide, stuck on that
empty planet. Even in the short time since their rescue, the girl was
taking to her studies with greater application. Her Colonial Standard was
up to almost a hundred words now, even if her grasp of the grammar was
sometimes... lamentable.
     "When will you take up your new command?" Athena asked Allen.
     "Tomorrow, if Commander Adama says it's all clear. And, I think I'm
gonna call her the Adelaide."
     "What's an Adelaide?" asked Boomer.
     "It's a city, in Australia, Boomer." He grinned widely as he said
the Warrior's name.  "I was born there, and grew up working on a cattle
station nearby. What you call bovines. And, it was also me mother's name.
Adelaide. So..."
     "Sounds like a good choice, Uncle Ced," said Jen.
     "That's the only kind I make, Jena me lass. By the way, Boomer ..."
He grinned again. "We have a little tune where I came from called the Six
White Boomers ... I was thinking I should ..." He stopped, when a sharp
cry erupted from Athena. She nearly dropped her glass (of mineral water),
and put a hand to her abdomen. "You okay?"
     "If...this qualifies as okay!" she gasped, her face contorted, then
turned to Boomer. "I'm gonna get you for this..."
     "Well, I'm..."
     "Who else am I going to blame?" she cried, sharply.  "It feels like
the Cylons are doing a pinwheel attack!"
     "Oh Sagan, here we go," Boomer murmured, helplessly.  "Just breathe
through it, like we practiced, Athena.  Remember your birth plan ..."
     "To Hades... with my birth plan.  Where are the drugs?" she hissed
     "Uhh..." said Jena.
     "Cass ..." Starbuck murmured.
     "It's okay, it's still early," the med tech counseled, taking
another sip of her ambrosia.  "It's only her first contraction."
     Starbuck winced, taking her glass and draining it in one gulp.
"Early?"
     "It could be centars yet," Cassie nodded, with an amused smile. 
"Just breathe," she whispered to him, placing a hand on his abdomen. 
"You'll be fine."
     "Funny," he retorted.
     "No, I think this is it!" said Athena, almost a squeak, as her face
contorted in pain, and she took a sharp breath. She tried to stand.
"Boomer..."
     "Just breathe!" Boomer reminded her, putting a supportive arm around
her, and taking a tentative step forward.  "And walk it off ... it's
supposed to help.  Right, Cassie?"  The med tech nodded.
     "I'm breathing!" Athena returned adamantly.  
     "Father..." Apollo began, and Adama looked to Cassie.
     "She's fine," Cassie insisted.  "Surely you remember with your own,
Commander?"
     "I wasn't actually there ..." Adama admitted.
     Athena panted, then began to relax, her rigid form straightening up. 
"Suffering Lord Sagan ... " She glanced over at Cassie.  "I want to
revise my birth plan."
     Cassie grinned.  "We get that a lot."

Chapter One

     "Well congrats, Boomer," said Jolly, as he handed his fellow Viper
pilot a glass. "Really fabulous news. Not to mention about time."
     "Thanks, Jolly," replied Boomer, accepting the proffered glass. "I'm
just glad it was fairly easy for Athena."
     "Well, yeah. Especially with twins."
     "And you would know, how?" asked Boomer, with a grin.
     "Two younger twin sisters," replied Jolly. "Mom had a tough time
with them, when I was six." Jolly sipped his ambrosia, nibbling at a
nacho. Across the Astral Lounge, Starbuck was regaling several of the
younger pilots with some heroic story or other, one no doubt starring
Starbuck. At one elbow was Robber, late of Proteus Prison, with his wife.
"Lords of Kobol, how like him."
     "Huh?" asked Boomer. "What?"
     "Starbuck. The party isn't even about him, and he still manages to
be the center of attention." The rotund Warrior shook his head. "Anyway,
you picked names, yet?"
     "Yeah. At least Athena has," said Boomer, as Sargamesh and Korl
wafted by, drinks in hand. "Hey," he waved at them, indicating some
vacant seats.
     "Blessings on you," said Korl, he and Sargamesh taking the proffered
chairs. "I trust all is well with your wife?"
     "Yeah, she's doing fine. Babies, too."
     "The gods be praised," said Sargamesh. "And twins. Son and daughter!
Children are like spears, in the hands of a warrior, Lieutenant. Blessed
is he who has many." He grinned, and gave Boomer a soft punch in the
shoulder. 
     Uh, okay...
     "Well thanks. I guess I have a lot to learn about the parenting
business," said Boomer. "They didn't teach that sort of thing at the
Academy."
     "Nor ours," chuckled Korl. "I confess I would not know the first
thing what to do."
     "Anyway," said Boomer, "now that we can't put it off, we were
settling on names, and Athena..."
     "So soon?" said Sargamesh, a somewhat shocked expression on his
face. "Surely..." he began then stopped, shaking his head.
     "Well, it's not like we can wait much longer."
     "But...oh, but of course, it is different with your people," said
the Zohrloch. "I assumed."
     "Assumed what?" asked Jolly.
     "Among our people, one does not name a child at birth," said Korl.
"Even if a name has been chosen, one should not speak it aloud." He
looked down at the floor, then back up. "It is considered bad luck."
     "Why?" asked Boomer. He was momentarily distracted by raucous
laughter. Commander Allen, Byrne's companion, was responding to some joke
or other, in his usually boisterous way, his dark, alien wife joining him
in the merriment. Boomer looked back to his fellow pilot.
     "On Eridu, in the past, many children died before their first
year...yahren, had passed. Things are better, now, but old ways linger.
It is still customary to wait, until it is certain the child will live,
before bestowing a name upon him or her. If a child is named, then dies,
it is believed to bring ill-luck upon the family."
     And these people made it into space? What a backwards...
     "We do not celebrate natal days, as you do," supplied Korl. "The
Naming Day is what is commemorated."
     "Okay, I understand," said Boomer. "I guess we're different that
way. We usually have a name picked out beforehand, and give it at or soon
after birth."
     "Another difference between us," said Sargamesh, sipping his drink.
A rare and (hideously) expensive Zohrloch liquor called gordya, it had
been salvaged from the wreck of the Nem'lach, and hoarded for a suitable
occasion. Starbuck had sampled it, and pronounced it "...oh God, yeah!"
     "Anyway, what have you decided?" asked Korl.
     "Well, we thought we'd call the boy Zac." He saw the blue brows
furrow, at the unfamiliar name. "After her brother. He was a Viper pilot,
killed in combat."
     "Ah, yes. It is a good thing to carry on the name of a warrior!"
said Sargamesh. "And the girl?"
     "Ila, after her mother. She died in the Cylon assault on Caprica."
     "Also fitting," said Korl. "To survive, and name your issue after
those the enemy has slain. It is a good revenge."
     Revenge? Lords of Kobol!
     "Ah, there is Hummer," said Sargamesh, as the technician entered.
"If you will excuse me."
     "And there is Captain Byrne and his daughter," said Korl, indicating
with a nod of the head. "No doubt regaling folk with more supernatural
tales."
     "Supernatural?" asked Jolly.
     "Yes. Some close companion or relative of his, back on Earth. What
you call a ...journalator. It seems the gentleman has had numerous
encounters with what might be called...highly unusual persons and events.
If you will excuse me."
     "Of course," said Boomer. As he scanned across the room, he saw
Genesis, Byrne's daughter, looking radiant, and vastly more healthy then
when they had rescued her and her father from a disintegrating planet, in
conversation with Sire Pelias. The young Sire, it seemed, was finding
more and more reasons to be in her vicinity. Boomer couldn't really blame
the guy. She had turned from a filthy, undernourished, scrawny ragamuffin
into a beautiful young lady, in an amazingly short time. Pelias was,
obviously, smitten.
     As he looked away from Pelias, he saw Commander Adama enter, a grave
look on his face at once erased, replaced by one of celebration. At his
elbow was Siress Tinia, also looking radiant. Behind them was Apollo,
Sheba and Boxy in tow, Pili and Kudur-Mabug, the refugees from Ki, a
centon or so later, Pili looking as if she would be following Athena into
the maternity ward before too long. Boomer exchanged looks with the
former cave people, now dressed in something more modern than tanned
hides, and the young man gave him a thumbs up. In fact, it looked as if
everyone who could possibly be spared was here, to celebrate the new
lives come into their midst.
     "Come on, Boomer," said Jolly, tossing the empty toothpick away.
"Let's mingle." He waved, as Cree and Greenbean wandered in. "Boomer?'
     "Right." He looked into his empty glass. "I could use a refill."
     "Yeah, me too."    


     Apollo tossed in his bed, unable to sleep. He cast a glance over at
Sheba, her relaxed breathing telling him that she had no similar problem,
tonight. Nor should he, after the wild and passionate joining of earlier
this evening. With the workout she'd given him, he should be exhausted.
But, for some reason, sleep was elusive. Perhaps it had been his father's
somber mood, outside the view of others. News of the birth of his
grandchildren had, somehow, made it over to Baltar's ship, and the
Traitor of Humanity had called him up, to offer his congratulations.
While icily polite, Adama had found the communication to be bothersome,
and it had put him in a dark mood.
     Apollo, too. Like his father, he distrusted any and every thing that
might come from Baltar, despite the recent levity over the BaseShip
"auction". If he'd declared that Cylons were made of metal, Apollo might
feel tempted to check. Hades Hole, it was just a short vid message, why
get so worked up about it? Maybe because Baltar never does anything,
without some kind of slimy ulterior motive? As Commander Allen, the Earth
co-pilot had so colorfully put it the other day, Baltar was a man who
"needed binoculars to look up to a snake's arse!"
     Whatever that meant. 
     But it sounded right.
     Even so, he remonstrated with himself, he could not give up hope
that this d‚tente would bear fruit. As one who had been raised to
assiduously believe in the precepts of The Book of the Word, he had to
admit, at the least, of the possibility of Baltar's redemption. As
difficult as that was, and of course he could never forget the horrific
sights of the Holocaust, the billions of agonizing deaths to be laid at
Baltar's door, he had to hold on to this arrangement, to keep the
suspicion and hatred at bay. Turn his back on it, lest he become another
Mattoon. He shuddered at the thought, unsure which was worse; burning up
in a firefight, or losing one's mind entirely.
     Nestling his bewhiskered face next to Sheba's bare shoulder, he cast
off such lugubrious musings, and at last began to drift off, images of
his new niece and nephew beginning to drift through his foggy mind. He
saw both, their mother with them, walking though a field of wildly
blooming flowers on a summer's day, Zac with them, Adama and Ila close
behind.  His old daggit, Amber, ran and frolicked among them all. It was
an idyllic scene, the sort that...
     The sort that began to slowly warp out of reality. The sky seemed to
grow dark, the very clouds bending and crumpling, as if the vault itself
was being twisted by some hideous power. Black clouds gathered, and
thunder boomed. The party scattered, and above, out of the
lightning-marbled clouds, there seemed to emerge a face. A grinning,
hideous countenance, that Apollo knew so well.
     Baltar!
     The huge, laughing visage followed him with it's eyes, from which
seemed to shoot lighting. As he sought escape, Apollo watched as the
horrid thing morphed, slowly becoming a BaseShip, it's horrific pulsars
firing into the scattering party. The blue spear of light lanced down, to
strike Zac, then Boxey.
     NO! Not again! Not...
     "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...!!!!!!!!!!!!!" 
     Apollo's eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he was unsure of
anything. After a moment, he heard it again. A cry, from Boxey's room. 
     Again?
     He rose, and almost fell to the deck. Picking himself up, he grabbed
his briefs from a chair, and sped for the hatchway. He pressed the key to
Boxey's room.
     The boy lay, askew upon the bed, thrashing and calling out, his hair
and tunic sweat-drenched. He was screaming now: "Let me go! Let me
goooo!!!" Apollo moved to him, and grabbed hold. Boxey's eyes were open,
but he did not seem to see his father, his face a mask of utter terror.
Apollo shook him, but the boy clawed at him, as if desperate to escape
the clutches of some vile horror.
     "Boxey!? Boxey, wake up!" He heard Sheba run in behind him. 
     "Apollo, what in..."
     "Boxey..."
     With a final convulsive shriek, Boxey began to relax, and started
blinking. His breathing began to slow, and he looked around him, Sheba
now on her knees next to him.
     "Boxey? Are you..."
     "Oh Dad! Mom! It was..." He began to howl, as if in some emotional
aftermath that refused to fade. Sheba took him, holding him against her.
     "Boxey, it's okay. We're here. You're okay. We're...
     "They took me!" shouted Boxey, into her robe. "I told you it was
real! They took me again!"
     "They?" asked Apollo.
     "Ugly things! Like bugs. They took me away!"
     "Boxey, it was just a dream," said Apollo, recalling his own ugly
dream of a few centons ago. 
     "No! It was real! They put things into me!" he insisted, shaking as
if in terror. "It hurt! They kept putting things into me!"
     "Boxey, it was..." Sheba began, when she noticed the red welts,
along Boxey's spine. She looked up at Apollo, eyes filled with
bewilderment.
     What in Hades...

Chapter Two

     "Well?" asked Sheba, as Doctor Salik came out of the ward, data pad
in hand. He looked at her a moment, before answering.
     "He's fine, now. I've given him a mild sedative. How long has he
been having these dreams?"
     "As far as I know, only twice," replied Apollo. "A couple of nights
ago, he had a nightequa. At least that's what I thought it was." 
     "I wasn't there," said Sheba. "One of the pilots in my squadron had
a death in the family, and got some compassionate furlon. I pulled his
patrol."
     "I see," said the CMO, rubbing his chin. "Okay, has Boxey exhibited
any...well, strange signs of late? Changes in mood, personality,
depression?"
     "None that I've noticed," said Apollo. "He's been really excited
about Athena's twins. Telling everyone in instructional period about it.
Just that, as far as I know."
     "I see." Salik frowned a moment.
     "Come on, Doctor," said Sheba, her alert klaxon going off. "There's
more to this. I can see it."
     "Yes," said Salik. "At first, I was inclined to put it down to
merely a very bad nightequa, as you said. But upon examination..."
     "Yes" asked Apollo.
     "Boxey has undergone some sort of severe trauma, and quite
recently."
     "Trauma?" asked Sheba. "What kind of trauma?'
     "Some of it is mental. His neurochemistry was wildly erratic, when
you brought him in here. Various neural-peptides and transmitters
massively disproportionate. Some were almost exhausted. As if he had
undergone some kind of massive psychological trauma. Almost at the very
limits of what the Human mind can endure. His heart was also stressed.
From the blood workup, if whatever it was had continued much longer,
Boxey would have died, either from heart failure, or a massive stroke.
His blood pressure was still abnormally high, when he was brought in."
     "A heart attack? At seven?" said Apollo, stunned. "I don't
understand."
     "Some trauma, some shock, that..."
     "But what?" asked Sheba. "He seemed fine at bedtime. We sat up, and
he read his homework from instructional period to us. We watched a vid,
then he went to bed."
     "Then I heard him, a few centars later," said Apollo. "Doctor, those
welts on his back..."
     "Yes, those welts. Despite their appearance, they are not the result
of insecton bites, burns, or any sort of dermal infection."
     "Then what?" asked Apollo.
     "Good question. I don't know. I've never seen anything like this,
before. But, from the micro-cellular scans of the tissue, something was
put into Boxey's body. Forcibly."
     "Something? As in...?" asked Sheba.
     "To be honest, I am not sure. Some sort of probe, possibly. But
whatever it was, it has affected the cells in those areas."
     "How?"
     "A few of them are dead. There is a tiny track of destroyed cells,
from the skin, all the way in to Boxey's spinal column. The red swelling
you saw was a natural immune system reaction to something foreign being
introduced."
     "Will he...I mean...is he going to be alright?" asked Apollo,
keeping his voice in check. He had seldom felt so helpless.
     "As far as I can tell, yes, if he has no more of
these...experiences. We're still running tests, but for the moment he's
alright. Sleeping. And, I think he should stay here, for the moment. Just
in case there should be any more..."
     "I get you, Doc. Yeah, okay." He turned to Sheba, then back. "How's
Athena and the twins?"
     "Doing fine, and also sleeping. They can all be released tomorrow."
     "Okay, Doc."
     "Can we see him, Doctor?" asked Sheba. Salik nodded, and waved them
in. "I'll leave you to it. I regrettably have an autopsy to perform. One
of my sadder duties."
     "Later, Doc." 


     All day, Apollo was burdened with worry. What in Hades Hole was
going on? Plain old dreams, bad as they might be, didn't leave traces of
destroyed cells, or bring a perfectly healthy seven-yahren-old to the
brink of complete cardiac or vascular failure. He tried to shake off the
gloom, as he went out on patrol, Flight Sergeant Grumio as his Human
wingman. But the feeling of something...something dark, lurking just
behind the scenes, would not leave him be.
     "...think, sir?"
     "Uh...what? Say again, Flight Sergeant?"
     "That odd electrical interference, sir. I noticed it right after we
launched. There it is again."
     "Probably that neutron star the Fleet is skirting," said Apollo,
giving his scanner a look. "Maybe Rigel can make something of it when we
land."
     "Right. ETA visual on the Fleet...one centon, sir."
     "Very good."


     For her part, Sheba felt much as did her husband. While she carried
out her own duties for the day, debriefing Barton and Noday after their
patrol, finishing up the latest batch of performances evaluations on the
two most recently certified pilots, and listening to a lecture by Byrne
on Earth fighter tactics, she kept thinking about Boxey. When her
schedule permitted, she looked in on him, but he was still sleeping.
     It was shortly after Apollo landed, that she got a call from Salik.
Yes, of course she could come to LifeStation right now. Handing her pad
with her notes over to Bojay, she slipped out, and she and Apollo headed
for Salik. 
     "And you found this where?" asked Apollo, looking at the data.
     "That autopsy I mentioned," replied the doctor. "I found many of the
same indications that I saw in Boxey."
     "I'm getting lost," said Sheba. "You found those...punctures or
whatever they were, on a dead person?"
     "Yes. The deceased was Orenthal, the grandfather of Lieutenant
Sheldrake, one of your pilots."
     "Yes. I recall; he mentioned that his grandfather had died,
suddenly. He got two days compassionate furlon, because of it. I pulled
his patrol. I told you about that."
     "And this Orenthal exhibited the same symptoms as Boxey?" asked
Apollo. 
     "Yes." He consulted his data pad. "Subject was elderly, injured
during the Holocaust, lived in cabin 341 aboard the Senior Ship, and
suffered from a progressively degenerative condition that would have been
fatal in another yahren or so. But, upon examination I discovered the
same pattern of welts along the spine, as well at the base of the skull
and the genitalia, as well as similarly abnormal blood and
neurochemistry."
     "What killed him?" asked Sheba, feeling sick in the pit of her
stomach. 
     "Complete cardiac failure, compounded by a massive CVA of the right
hemisphere. In layman's terms, he had a heart attack, and a stroke, all
at once. His advanced age, as well as his medical condition, only
facilitated his death. There were also foreign substances in his blood
and tissues that I don't recognize."
     "Drugs?" asked Sheba.
     "Yes, but of unknown origin. So far, I've found nothing in our
databanks that match these compounds. I went back and rechecked. Traces
of the same compounds were found in Boxey's blood, urine, and
cerebro-spinal fluid."
     "Oh God," groaned Sheba.
     "But ultimately....what is it?" pressed Apollo. "What did the old
man die of?"
     "Fear, Captain."
     "Fear? You mean..."
     "Yes. Orenthal was, quite literally, scared to death. Whatever it
was, it terrified him so much it killed him." He set down his data pad,
and crossed his arms. "Boxey was right. This was no dream, this was real.
An as yet unknown outside physical agency performed some sort
of...procedure on both Orenthal and Boxey. Now who it is I have no clue
as yet, but it has already proven fatal in one case."
     "Lords of Kobol..." whispered Apollo, looking towards Boxey's ward. 
     "I have to inform the Commander," said the doctor. "As I'm sure you
can appreciate, this has become a security matter. Person or persons
unknown are somehow able, at will, to carry out...procedures on
unsuspecting victims, with complete impunity, and at least one person has
already died, thanks to it."
     "Let's go," said Sheba.
     "Frightened to death," whispered Apollo, looking towards Boxey's
ward. "Lords of Kobol." 


     Commander Adama was silent, visibly taken aback, at the news. Not
merely that someone had died under circumstances so bizarre, but that
Boxey might also be affected.  The fact that whoever was responsible was
able to do their grisly work, virtually undetected, was even more
alarming. A check of security logs aboard the Galactica showed nothing
amiss, either at the time of Boxey's experience, or at any other time. A
thought by Sheba, that this might be somehow related to the piiglin gas
found a while back by Starbuck, that those responsible for that might be
behind this, was quickly put to rest. The compounds found in both victims
neither resembled the hideous Cylon nerve agent, nor were the symptoms
the same. 
     "As soon as Sheldrake returns from patrol, I want to talk to him,"
said Adama. "The doctor aboard the Senior Ship as well."
     "What about Boxey?" asked Apollo. 
     "Doctor?" asked Adama.
     "I wouldn't advise it, Commander. He was extremely upset by the
experience. Not just that, but mentally as well. I don't think it would
be good to do that so soon. Unless it's absolutely necessary."
     "Understood." Adama looked at his chrono. The Senior Ship's CMO
would be aboard in less than ten centons.


     "Hhmm..." said Rigel, at her post on the bridge. "That's odd."

Chapter Three

     Lieutenant Sheldrake wasn't sure quite what to expect, when,
immediately upon landing, he was ordered to report to the Commander, in
of all places, LifeStation. As he followed the post-landing procedures,
he wondered if this might have anything to do with his just-passed
performance eval. True, he and Sheba didn't always get along, but...
     "Let me know how it goes," said Korl, his wingman, as they parted.
     "Guaranteed," replied Sheldrake, and was off. 
     Adama looked somber, he decided, as he entered Doctor Salik's
office. With him were Apollo and Sheba as well. Something obviously was
not right, here. He saluted.
     "Again, my condolences on the passing of your grandfather,
Lieutenant," said Adama, as Sheldrake was motioned to a seat. 
     "Thank you, sir. Uhh, may I ask what this is all about? I've never
been debriefed in the LifeStation, before."
     "Well, we have encountered something odd, Lieutenant," said the
doctor. He referred to his data pad, and recounted recent events,
concerning Orenthal. "Prior to his death, how would you describe your
grandfather?"
     "Grumpy, sir," replied Sheldrake, with a half-smile. "He wasn't all
that fond of the Hover...uh, Senior Ship, sir." Adama noted the faint
amusement on Salik's face. One of the unofficial names for the Senior
Ship was "The Hoverchair". 
     "Was he complaining of any bad dreams?" asked Salik. "Any strange
experiences?"
     "No, sir. Last time we were together, we were reminiscing about life
back home, on Aquaria, in our home province of Geshur. As a young man, he
was a Security Officer, as well as an athlete. Pan-Colonial Games of
7310, 7314, '18, and '22. He just hated being ill."
     "I can imagine," said Adama. "Anything else?"
     "He complained about the food, but then who doesn't, sir? The lousy
turboflushes, the lack of privacy. The java. We talked a lot about my
experiences in the service, and he had me recount the battle with the
BaseShip a while back, sir. When Baltar joined up with us." Sheldrake's
expression made clear that he had no love for the traitor, nor the
d‚tente, but he kept it to himself. "He thought it was an awful idea,
sir. Begging your  pardon," he said, to Cheg, the Senior Ship's doctor.
Cheg nodded. "Basically, he was being himself, sirs. A sometimes
crotchety, complaining old man who hated what had happened to him. He'd
suffered several burns and fractures, when the Cylons hit Gemal, where we
were living. He also got a small dose of pluton poisoning, sir. Not
enough to kill him outright, but slowly." He looked to Salik. "It was
lousy, watching him decline, I can tell you. But, I tried to spend as
much furlon time as I could with him. He was my only remaining family,
you understand. My parents, siblings, fianc‚, and everyone else were lost
when Aquaria was wiped out." He sighed heavily. "We were all the other
had."
     "I understand," said Adama. He looked to Cheg. "Doctor."
     "As the Lieutenant says, Orenthal was suffering from a degenerative
illness, brought on by his exposure to pluton, during the Cylon
bombardment. But my initial examination showed no signs of the
acceleration in the tissue breakdown one often finds in the last stages
of pluton-related sickness. In fact, it's a semi-miracle he lived this
long, given his injuries and age. Now, we don't have as extensive a suite
of equipment as does the Galactica, so I could not do as complete an
analysis as you can here. So when I saw the strange welts, as well as
something in Orenthal's blood that I could not identify, I called Doctor
Salik. "
     "And the indications from all the tests," said Salik, "are that the
same things are happening to Boxey, that happened to Orenthal."
     "Boxey?" asked Sheldrake, looking from Salik, to Apollo and
Sheba."Is he alright? I hadn't heard of..."
     "He's fine, for now," said Apollo. "But some strange things have
been happening."
     "Strange, sir? How so?"
     Apollo nodded, and Salik explained. "As far as we can tell,
Lieutenant, the same thing happened to Boxey that happened to your
grandfather. The only reason Boxey is still alive is because of his youth
and health, as compared to your grandfather's medical condition. And the
fact that someone was close to hand, to snap him out of it."
     "Then he was...poisoned in some way?" asked Cheg. "The mysterious
compound?'
     "Yes, it seems so," said Salik. "In fact, I suspect..."
     Beep.
     Salik excused himself, then returned quickly. His face was, if
possible, even more somber-looking than before. He looked up from his
data pad, to pan the assembled.
     "Doctor?" asked Adama. 
     "Something new, Doctor?" asked Sheba.
     "Possibly." He sat back down. "As you know, the substance we found
in both Boxey and Orenthal's blood was unknown to us. It did not match
anything in the medical databanks."
     "Past tense, Doctor," said Sheba. "You've found something."
     "Possibly, though I don't see how it gets us any further. That was
Chief Carmichael, aboard the Agro Ship One." 
     "Carmichael?" asked Adama. "What has the Agro Chief to do with
this?"
     "When we couldn't identify the mysterious compound, I was stumped
for a while. But, as I looked at it, I kept thinking it was somehow
familiar. After exhausting every resource here, I put out a call to every
other ship in the Fleet, to search their data banks for anything.
Anything at all, that might provide a clue."
     "And you got one?" asked Apollo.
     "Finally, yes. The compound on the left," he said, putting up a
holographic, "is the substance found in both Boxey and Orenthal. On the
right, Carmichael's discovery." The two molecules were long, large, and
quite complex. Data scrolled up alongside each image.
     "I'm no chemist," said Sheba, feeling like she was back in school.
"Explain."
     "The compound on the right is the closest analogue to the mystery
substance, and it was found in Carmichael's data, aboard the Agro Ship.
It comes from a species of crawlon, native to several of the Colonies."
     "A crawlon?" asked Sheba. 
     "Yes. I won't bore you with all the technical names and details,"
said Salik. "But after some time, I recalled seeing this as a young
student, when I had intended to become a chemical engineer." He shut off
the holo. "Simply put, the crawlon toxin is a complex protein, that acts
to immobilize, and paralyzes it's victim. This mystery compound seems to
have many of the same properties."
     "Is it...supposed to kill?" asked Sheldrake.
     "No. At least not at once. It paralyzes, as I said, by inhibiting
neurotransmitters to the voluntary muscles. However, since that
particular kind of crawlon's prey is entirely insectoid in nature, there
is a problem."
     "Yes?" asked Apollo.
     "According to the data," said Salik, referring to his pad, "in
insectons and reptiles, the toxin works as I have said. But, when it
comes to mammalian physiology, the results can be unpredictable."
     "How unpredictable?" asked Sheba, her gut going cold.
     "According to this, while effective at immobilizing the subject, it
has much the opposite effect in other areas. Victims remain conscious,
and exhibit enormously accelerated metabolic rates, along other symptoms.
Often resulting in death, if an antidote in not administered in time."
     "So, that's what killed Orenthal," said Cheg, examining the data
pad. "This stuff..."
     "Yes," said Salik. "It is sufficiently similar to what Carmichael
found to work in much the same way. And, it has the opposite effect on
Humans, just as the crawlon toxin from the Colonies."
     "You say analogue, Doctor," said Apollo. "I take it this poison
Carmichael found is not the same, precisely."
     "No, Captain. However, it is quite similar, and is the closest
analogue we have yet found, in any databank, anywhere in the Fleet.
     "Why is there nothing on this in the Galactica's medical banks,
Doctor?" asked Adama.
     "You'll appreciate, Commander, that on an active-duty warship,
insecton or crawlon bites are not part of a Warrior's usual run of risks.
Such data was presumably considered superfluous by Fleet Medical, and
never included."
     "I trust you will see to correcting that oversight?"
     "I already have."
     "Good. So, what do we have?" he asked.
     "We have...someone, presumably an alien species, that can get on and
off the ship at will, without being detected," said Salik. "It uses a
toxic substance to immobilize the kidnapped subject, and then performs a
series of experiments on them. However, due to a biochemical
incompatibility, it causes massively accelerated pulse and blood
pressure, resulting in at least one death."
     "And the perpetrators must be some sort of non-Humanoid species,"
said Apollo.
     "How so?" asked Sheldrake.
     "Boxey said that whoever it was were 'like bugs'. If this toxin is
from such a source, Lieutenant, than it could follow that the beings,
creatures, whatever, that are doing these things, are of like type."
     "Well, we picked up nothing on our patrol, sir," said Sheldrake.
"Neither my wingman, nor the Cylons with us."
     "Who was your wingman?" asked Adama.
     "Korl, sir. And the Cylon contingent was headed by a Flight Leader
Plectus. I handed my flight recorder data over to Korl, when I was
ordered here. He'll have it, should you wish to review it, sir. But my
scanner was clear, the whole way, as far as any ships or planets go."
     "As far as?" asked Sheba, picking up the subtil omission. "How do
you mean?"
     "On coming back into visual range of the Fleet, ma'am. There were a
few moments of electrical interference in some of my ship's instruments.
Barely a micron or two, as we approached the outer marker. It passed
quickly." Sheldrake notice Apollo's expression. "Sir?"
     "Did the Cylons report anything similar, Lieutenant?"
     "Umm...now that you mention it, sir, yes. I heard one of them, I'm
not sure which because they all sound alike, say something about scanner
interference, on a certain wavelon, just as we came back into range of
the Fleet." He looked to Adama. "I thought it might just be that nebula.
Electrical discharges in all that ionized gas."
     "It might be," said Apollo, filing it away. He looked to his father,
then the doctors. "Anything more?" There wasn't. "Very well, Lieutenant,
dismissed." Sheldrake stood. "Report to Colonel Tigh for debreiefing."
     "Sir," saluted Sheldrake. He smartly spun on one heel, and headed
towards the door. He stopped, and half-turned. "Sir?"
     "Lieutenant?"
     "If you figure out what it was...you'll let me know? After all,
Granddad...he was all I had left, sir."
     "Yes, Lieutenant," said Adama. "We shall."
     "Sir," said the other, and with another salute, was gone.
     "So, where does this leave us?" asked Sheba. "An unknown presence,
that can come and go at will, and is subjecting our people to...what?"
     "Examinations," said Cheg. "It must be. Some sort of medical exams."
     "But without any seeming concern for the subject," added Adama. "It
almost seems as if Orenthal was...expendable." He sighed, almost not
wanting to say the next part. "Like a lab rodenton."
     "So, how do we prevent it from happening again?" asked Sheba. "Boxey
might not survive another...whatever it is. And certainly others
won't..." She stopped. Adama could see the anger in her face, the fury
she was holding in. Sheba was fiercely loyal to her adopted family. Any
threat to it pushed all her Warrior buttons. Like her father, she felt a
strong urge to find who, or whatever, was responsible, and then blast it
out of the universe. The lack of an easily distinguishable target just
made her all the more furious. 
     "If they have a ship nearby, it obviously must be using some sort of
cloaking system, Father," said Apollo. 
     "Yes, but we have adjusted our scanners to be able to detect such
vessels, after our recent encounters. This, if it is a cloaked vessel,
must be using some entirely different system."
     "Then we'll just have to see what Wilker and Hummer can come up
with," said Sheba. "It must be a new race. Anything in those charts we
got at RB-33, Commander?"
     "Nothing so far, but I shall be reviewing them, presently. I shall
also order all ship Captains to report any anomalous instrument behavior
or occurrences. As quietly as possible, of course."
     "I hope you aren't going to say anything to the Council, Father,"
said Apollo.
     "Lords, no," said Adama. "That's all we need, Apollo."
     Beep.
     It was Rigel, calling from the bridge. Could the Commander meet her
in Wilker's lab, when he had the time?

Chapter Four

     Aboard the BaseShip, Ayesha looked at herself in the mirror, in the
small turbowash room, retrofitted for her and Baltar's use. Hair still
damp from her ablutions, she considered herself, and this whole d‚tente.
How long? How long would it be, before these renegade Cylons, as a part
of their "development", decided that they no longer needed the Human pair
in their midst? Would they turn on the Fleet? Would she and Baltar be put
off, aboard the Fleet, or would they be dealt with, in typical Cylon
fashion? There were times, she admitted, when the very sight of Command
Centurion Moray made her want to scream. That unmoving face, with it's
ever-moving eye, made her flesh crawl at times. How in Hades Hole did
Baltar stand it? How could any Human?
     She had just slipped into her nightgown, when the light over the
mirror flickered. Almost at once, there was a throaty cry from the next
room. She opened the door, to see...
     What? Faint...crackles, of what looked like lightning arced about
the room, and it was suffused with a dim misty haze. She tried to wave it
away, but it remained. Were her eyes at fault? She called out...
     "Nooooo....!" She heard Baltar's voice wail. Across the room, on the
bed, she saw him, flailing like a man under attack. "Unhand me!" he was
shouting. "Let go! Ayesh...." 
     Then he was gone.
     "Bal...Baltar?" she screamed, but there was no answer.  


     "What do you have?" asked Adama, in Wilker's lab. It was unusual for
Rigel to call him personally, even more so for her to be here, not to
mention Colonel Tigh being present as well. Whatever it was, it must be
important.
     "I wish I knew, sir," said Rigel. "It's very strange."
     "This whole thing is strange," replied Adama. "I trust you have
something more specific?"
     "Yes, sir." She motioned him over to a bank of monitors. Activating
several switches, she brought up a number of graphics. "I noticed a
strange energy spike on one scanner, several centars ago, and it bothered
me. I recalled how the Ziklagi first shadowed us for some time, using
their cloak to kidnap people. I thought that maybe someone else was up to
something similar, with all the piratical groups in this region, so I
began reviewing scan logs, and our computer files." She turned to a
screen. "Alright, Commander, this is from the Galactica's own flight
recorder data, last night at 0220.44. Here..." she pointed, "is a slight
energy spike. A sharp burst of intense ultra-violet radion, which struck
the hull at that time."
     "But we are passing close to a neutron star," said Tigh. "There are
all sorts of radion coming from that nebula."
     "Yes, sir, but this radion burst was modulated. See?" Lots of lines
and squiggles covered the screen.
     Adama had to admit...he couldn't.
     "What it means, sir," said Wilker, "is that the energy burst was not
random. It was specifically created and directed. Like a radio wave."
     "Directed at the Galactica?"
     "Yes, sir," said Rigel, showing a graphic of the Battlestar,
overlain with her other data. "The burst was directed against the hull
directly here." The image zoomed in, to a section of small cabins.
     "That's...our quarters!" said Sheba, studying the images. "And the
time..." She looked to Apollo, face a mix of shock and disgust.
     "At just about the time Boxey..." He looked to Rigel. "What else?"
     "It happened again, sir, about fifty centons or so, later. The same
radion burst. Directed at the same point on the hull. Down to the
microcentimetron." 
     "Just the time we heard Boxey." He ran a hand over his face,
bewildered. "Any other occurrences of this...radion burst?"
     "Yes, sir. The very same thing happened two nights earlier, and in
the same place."
     "Boxey's first dream," said Sheba, to Apollo.
     "Rigel," said Adama, "correlate every occurrence of this radion
spike with any abnormal electrical or other energy disturbances
throughout the Fleet. Any at all." He looked at Tigh, then Apollo. "We
may have found a clue."
     "But if it is some kind of alien transport beam," said Tigh, "how do
we block it out?"
     "The entire radion signature is completely unlike the transport
technology we obtained from the Zykonians, sir," said Hummer. "I've run
sim after sim. No correlation that I can find."
     "Keep trying."
     "Yes, Commander."
     "Commander Adama," came a voice. Omega's. "Commander Adama, respond
please."
     "Yes, Omega?"
     "There is a message for you, sir. From the BaseShip. On the
emergency, private channel."
     "The private...what does Baltar want?" He barely choked off a 'now'.
    "It isn't Baltar, sir. It's Ayesha. She wants to speak to you, at
once."


     While Adama had met Ayesha, aka Claudia, more than once, albeit it
under pleasanter circumstances, he did not know her well enough to be
certain whether her apparent state of mind was feigned, or if she was
genuinely frightened.  With her hair disarranged like a madwoman, and her
voice semi-incoherent, she certainly seemed like someone at wit's end.
Either way, Baltar was nowhere in evidence. 
     "Cl...Ayesha," he said, trying to sound soothing. "Please, calm
yourself. Tell me what has happened."
     "B...Baltar! He's missing! He's gone!" She turned, to look at
something off-camera. "He was lying there, and then...."
     With many stops and starts, she told of how, as she had prepared for
bed, she entered their quarters, to find Baltar, not reclining on the
bunk as expected, but struggling like a man possessed, with what she
could not tell. Surrounded by a strange light, the traitor was kicking
and thrashing, and was pulled, yes pulled, into a bizarre fog-like
luminescence. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was gone, and she was
alone in their quarters.
     Adama did not at first know what to say. His first, gut instinct was
to assume some plot, some new Baltar scheme. The man was (in)famous for
them. Yet, after a micron or two, he knew this could not be the case.
This sounded far too much like what Boxey had described to be a mere
coincidence. Adama had kept as tight a lid on events here as he could,
and while he doubted not that Baltar had his sources of information about
what went on in the Fleet, that he would seek to contrive some sort of
hoax based on it made no sense to him. 
     Could this be something the Cylons had contrived? Had Moray, and the
rest of the BaseShip's crew finally "decided" what they were going to do,
and begun to act? First, eliminate the Humans in their midst, then...
     No, that made no sense either. The Cylons, while technologically
sophisticated, were hardly subtil. It would take an IL Series or higher,
such as the late Septimus, to contrive something with more cunning than
the usual open fire and blast away. No, if Moray had decided that enough
was enough, he would just have done what the Cylons had always done.
Kill, and move on.
     Besides, Ayesha was still there, and very much alive. It hardly
seemed likely that the Cylons would eliminate Baltar, and leave her
unharmed. 
     "How long ago did this happen?" asked Adama.
     "About...about ten centons, I think," she replied, struggling to
keep control of herself. While no expert, Adama thought her body language
bespoke veracity. No, this was no plot, at least on her part. "I..."
     Before she could continue, a sickly whitish light began to fill the
room behind her. She turned, and they both watched as from the center of
it emerged...
     "Baltar!" she cried, as the form of her husband slid out of the
brightness, to flop onto the bunk. The light faded, and Baltar rolled off
onto the deck, Ayesha at once at his side. He seemed to be struggling for
breath.
     "Help...me!!!!!!!"


     "Well?" asked Adama, of Salik, in LifeStation. Baltar had been
brought over from the BaseShip, on the pretext of needing a "standard
Human medical exam". Not much of a pretext, but since the Cylons had
scant facilities for anything but interrogation and analysis, and were
largely clueless in this area anyway, this was readily accepted.  To
defuse any potential suspicions on the part of Moray, however, Adama did
agree to two guards accompanying Baltar when the Cylon shuttle came
aboard the Galactica. While it stuck in his craw, he knew that he must do
nothing to endanger the d‚tente. So many lives depended upon it.
     Ayesha waited, in the outer room.
     "The same," said Salik. "The same toxin that nearly killed Boxey,
and did kill Orenthal, has been introduced into Baltar's system. It has
had much the same effect, as well."
     "He survived, though," said Adama. "Any ideas as to why?"
     "Yes, Commander. Orenthal was quite a bit older than Baltar, and as
you know, in terminally failing health. In Boxey's case, the amount of
the toxin was almost too much for someone of his body mass to endure. In
short, Boxey got an overdose of whatever this stuff is. Baltar however,
being larger than Boxey, and in better health, as well as younger, than
Orenthal, survived the experience." He consulted his data pad. "If only
just."
     "Close thing?" asked the Commander.
     "Fairly. Whoever or whatever is responsible for these...abductions,
doesn't seem in the slightest bit concerned about the person involved. A
middle-aged man, an elderly invalid, a small boy. All have been subjected
to a potentially lethal substance, examined bizarrely, and then dumped
unceremoniously back here."
     "Any more clues as to who, Doctor?" asked Apollo.
     "Possibly, but I have no clue as to how to use it, yet." He motioned
them into an inner lab, leaving Baltar alone. On one monitor, was the
scan of a patient's skull. From the size and configuration of the teeth,
Apollo at once knew it was Boxey's. "This is a scan we took of Boxey's
head, as part of the full cranial series." He pressed a key, and the
image zoomed in on something, no larger than a half of a centimetron in
size, and cylindrical in shape.
     "What's that?" asked Adama. 
     "A very good question," replied the doctor.  "As you can see, it is
artificial. Scans indicate that it is metallic and ceramic in
construction, although there are also materials unknown to us. It is
implanted deep inside Boxey's brain, near the hippocampus." He indicated
the region. 
     "Can you extract it?" asked Apollo, gut heaving. 
     "No. Hades Hole, we don't even know how it was put in there. The
object has extremely fine, almost microscopic fibers, that connect it to
other parts of the brainstem, almost like a net. Not only is it in a very
delicate area, but without knowing a lot more about these fibers, both in
material and function, we would kill him. At the very least, leave him a
permanent vegetable."
     "But Doc..."
     "Apollo, the Doctor knows his subject," said Adama. He looked at the
room where Baltar lay. "What about Orenthal and Baltar, Doctor?"
     "The same." Salik moved to a small sample container. Inside was an
object, identical to the one on the scan of Boxey. "I removed this from
Orenthal's skull. Once I found it's twin on Boxey's scan, I went back and
looked at Orenthal, and there it was."  Dull grey, it sported diagonal
red stripes, and pointed ends.   
     "And Baltar?"
     "Yes, Commander. He has one as well."
     "Whoever this is is...tagging us," said Apollo. "Like animals in
some biological study!"
     "Exactly," said Salik. "And, I suspect, tracking the person, as
well. One of our scanners picked up a very faint EM pulse from it, but we
don't have the equipment here to go further."
     "Get it to Wilker's lab," said Adama.
     "I've already called him," said Salik.
     "It's almost as if...whoever is doing this," said Apollo, "put these
objects where they are, to keep them from being removed."
     "Not without killing the person," added Salik. 

Chapter Five 

     Upon awakening, and remembering where he was, Baltar told a story
eerily similar to Boxey's. Of going from familiar surroundings to...he
had no idea. He found himself in the company of beings bizarre and
terrifying. Like Boxey's description, they seemed to resemble insectons
of some sort, and were deaf to all pleas and demands. Like Boxey and
Orenthal, Baltar's body showed signs of the same invasive procedures
having been performed, the welts, the regions of damaged cells, and
altered chemistry.
     "What is going on, Adama?" he demanded to know, something of the old
Baltar coming into his voice, as he sat in the Commander's quarters. In a
way, Adama could hardly blame him. He doubted that the experience had
been anything but...humiliating, at best. To be drug...Lords of Kobol
knew where, apparently stripped naked, instruments of unknown function
applied, unknown drugs pumped into you. He shivered.
     Distasteful as it was, Adama unfolded events to Baltar, leaving out
the names of those involved. The traitor went from angry, to shocked, to
frightened, and back to angry, in short order. Like Boxey, and no doubt
like the late Orenthal, Baltar had felt utterly demeaned and humiliated
by his experience. It was obvious to Adama, having known Baltar for many
long yahrens, that despite his front, the other was badly shaken by the
event.
     "If these...creatures can track us, then none of us are safe!" he
declared. He looked at Ayesha, and for a brief moment, Adama saw
something he scant expected to see on Baltar's face: concern. Concern for
someone other than Baltar. 
     Wonders, it seemed, would never cease.
     "Doctor Salik has scanned Ayesha, just to be safe," Adama reassured
him. "She has no implants of any kind inside of her, nor any trace of the
toxin."
     "Thank the Lords," Baltar murmured. He took a moment to compose
himself. "So, what now?"
     "That depends upon what Doctor Wilker and his staff can discover,
regarding the implant that was removed from the deceased victim. It
appears identical to that which you have, but more analysis is needed to
learn anything useful. Certainly, how to neutralize it effectively." 
     "And if we cannot?" asked Baltar, clearly still worried. "I have no
wish to repeat that...experience, Adama."
     "No one will, if I have anything to say about it," replied the
Commander. Thinking of Boxey, he meant it.


     "So, what do we have? That is meaningful?" asked Colonel Tigh,
later, in the Ward Room. Rigel and Hummer were in attendance. Baltar had
returned to the BaseShip.
     "Doctor?" asked Adama, looking at Wilker.
     "Our analysis continues, sirs, but so far, we have ascertained
beyond doubt that the device is alien in origin. By which I mean, it is
not Cylon, according to every test we can contrive, and everything we
know of Cylon technology. They didn't build it."
     "That's a relief, at least," said Adama. He had suspected that this
might be something of theirs, perhaps due to a lifetime of enmity
regarding them. But that still left the matter of whom.
     "The casing is a ceramo-metallic alloy, of a type and sophistication
totally unknown to Colonial science, sir," Wilker looked to Hummer, and
the tech continued. "Inside, it is densely packed with circuits. In fact,
I have never seen any device where the state of miniaturization even
comes close to this. I checked, as far as I possibly could, the Cylon
database as well. They don't come anywhere near to this, either,
Commander."
     "Who, then?" asked Apollo. 
     "I honestly have no idea, sirs," said Hummer. "My only guess, and
that's all it is, is that one of the alien species in this sector is
somehow able to observe us, without our being aware of it. I have
reviewed all the recent scanner logs for the times indicated, but there
is nothing definite, beyond the radion pulse Rigel discovered." Everyone
looked to the young woman.
     "I was able to obtain copies of the scanner logs from the BaseShip,
Commander," she began. "Ayesha supplied them to me. As you can see," she
put the holo image up for all to see, "a radion pulse, predominantly in
the ultra-violet band, originating from inside the nebula, intersected
the BaseShip, here." She zoomed in on the section. "This area contains
Baltar's living quarters. As with the earlier incidents aboard both the
Galactica and the Senior Ship, this...whatever it was, penetrated the
ship's hull, and through some mechanism as yet unknown, transported
Baltar somewhere else." She sighed. "Somewhere we cannot as yet detect
with our scanners."
     "Any luck with the enhancements?" asked Sheba. 
     "Not as yet," replied Rigel. "So far, Komma and myself have tried
thirty-seven different enhancement algorithms, with no success. The
massive radion emanating from the nebula makes more detailed scans almost
impossible. The Cylon scanners are having trouble, as well."
     "Father, perhaps we should move further from the nebula boundary,"
suggested Apollo. "It seems apparent that these...creatures are using it
to hide from our scanners."
     "Agreed." Adama looked to Hummer. "Any details on how the victims
are being transported off the ships? Are they using anything like the
transport beam device the Zykonians use?"
     "No, sir. While the radion is making things difficult, there is no
evidence, in the scans we have, of the sort of carrier wave that the
transport device uses. It also leaves behind an ionization trail, and
there is no evidence of that, either. Although the nebula's radion could
be masking any."
     "What about a probe of the nebula?" asked Sheba, looking around. "If
there is some kind of alien vessel concealed inside there, we could find
it, perhaps."
     "Unlikely, Lieutenant," said Tigh. "The radion inside is massive,
and crosses the entire spectrum. No Human could endure it for more than a
few microns, even with the best shielding we could equip a Viper with."
     "And," added Rigel, "there are indications of ferocious stellar
winds inside. Hundreds of kilometrons per centar, and possibly faster.
They would rip a Viper apart, even with maximum reinforcement."
     "Frack," said Sheba under her breath. "There must be something we
can do, to find them!"
     "A Cylon patrol?" asked Wilker.
     "Same problem," said Rigel. "Their fighters couldn't withstand that
sort of radion or turbulence, either."
     "Then what?" asked Sheba. From the way she clutched and unclutched
her hands, Apollo could see that her anger was rising. 
     "We might..." began Hummer, leaning back and thinking. 
     "Yes?" asked three people at once.
     "We might send in a remote probe." He looked to Adama. "I think we
could do it, sir."
     "With all that radion?"
     "Yes, if we used..." Hummer trailed off, his right index finger
making imaginary scribbles across the table-top. "Yes! Yes, we can do it,
sir! If we used the shell of one of the Ziklagi mines, sir!"
     "The Ziklagi mines?" asked Adama.
     "Yes, sir!" said Hummer, clearly feeling the excitement of being on
to something. "We kept one or two of the deactivated mines, sir. If you
recall, we gave one to the Zykonians, when we were at Brylon Station. We
kept another one or two, to study the alien technology."
     "How precisely does that help us, Technician?" asked Tigh.
     "The casing on the mines is a very dense alloy, sir," replied
Hummer. "A mixture of tylinium, lead, and a number of other elements. It
is very resistant to radion, probably because of the various environments
the Ziklagoio deploy them in. In fact, it is superior to any
radion-shielding material we currently use. If we could fit a standard
instrument suite into the shell of one, and seal it up as best as
possible, we might be able to probe the interior of the nebular cloud. At
least for longer than a fighter or shuttle could."
     "No chance a Cylon fighter might be able to make it?" asked Apollo.
     "No, sir. While we don't know the precise limits of their systems,
their electronics would probably burn out before they could return from
inside with any data. "Plus the winds." He put up a holographic sim. Like
the Viper, the Raider was ripped to shreds. "At least, this way, there is
a possibility."
     "Very well," said Adama, looking at his scientists. "Begin the work
at once. It has top priority, gentlemen." He looked at Rigel, then
Hummer. "Will you need her help?" Hummer was affirmative. "Then Rigel,
you are hereby excused from bridge duties, for as long as they need you."
     "Yes, sir."
     "We won't let you down, sirs," said Hummer.
     Adama looked at Tigh, then at his son and daughter-in-law. He hoped
it was not an empty promise.


     "Then Boxey is okay?" asked Captain Byrne, of Apollo. The Viper
pilot nodded in the affirmative. "That's good. Jen was kinda worried."
     "Oh, why?" asked Apollo.
     "Well, he hasn't been in sch...instructional period, for a couple of
days, and Jen wondered to me if he was alright." Byrne had been asked to
fill in for the usual primary-level instructor for a day or two, while
she was recovering from surgery. A lecture on Earth history, and the
basics of elementary physics. When Boxey had been absent the morning
after his experience, he'd been told he was ill. When it continued, he
went to Apollo. "I wanted to go to the source, as it were, and alleviate
any rumors."
     "Rumors?" asked Apollo. "What...rumors."
     Hell's Bells! He looks like I just stole the Kremlin codes or
something! Something is up.
     "Some of the kids were saying that Boxey has some kind of serious
illness. Supposedly he's been in Sick...uh...LifeStation for a while."
     "He's okay," said Apollo, face and voice a dead giveaway that the
facts had been otherwise. "Just a little...Sagittarian flu."
     "Ah. Well, the regular teacher will be back by the time he returns.
I'm headed back to the Constellation, so tell him all the best, okay?"
     "I will."
     Byrne watched Apollo walk away, his body language screaming that
something was, most definitely, not right. He wondered what it could be
that would not only have him so wound up, but as nervy as an epileptic
jumping bean at the mention of Boxey.
     Weird.


     While they had been in conference, there had been no more reports of
any further "incidents". Adama ordered the Fleet to move further away
from the nebular perimeter. Command Centurion Moray, curious, had wished
to know why, and was told that it was to "lessen the effect of random
radion bursts on our systems". Being what he was, the Cylon bought it.
     So Adama hoped. 
     Hummer had created a "work of art", or so he declared. The standard
Viper scan suite was fitted, if a bit uncomfortably, into the empty mine
casing. It was, actually, ugly, and looked like the exploding toaster
from Hades Hole, but it seemed to work. So did the tiny motor bolted onto
it.
     "Nebular perimeter in two centons," announced Tigh, on the bridge.
On the scanners, they watched as the tiny probe drew ever closer to the
mysterious boundary. They could see that the BaseShip was scanning it, as
well. Adama looked at Tigh, and mentally crossed his fingers. 
     "Telemetry nominal," reported Omega. "All probe systems functioning.
Nebular boundary in one centon."
     "Excellent," replied the Commander. He watched the moments tick
down.
     "Entry, now," said Omega. 
     "I just hope we can pick up any transmissions through all that
muck," said Sheba. 
     "Lives may depend on it," nodded Adama.  


     Aboard the BaseShip, Baltar and Ayesha were also watching, as the
tribunal-rigged device made it's way towards the mysterious nebula. Adama
had filled the traitor in on their plan, and the former councilman was
following events with interest. Whatever was inside there, whatever it
was that had taken, and humiliated him, Baltar wanted revenge. He looked
over at Ayesha.
     "Lords, I hope this works," she said.
     Her husband said nothing.


     Cassie looked up, to see Siress Lydia enter LifeStation. The
glamorous Siress seldom came down this way. It just didn't seem to fit in
with whatever scheme she was working on at the moment. In fact, her even
being here made Cassie suspicious that she was doing just that.
     "I was wondering how the boy is doing, Cassiopeia. Adama's
grandson."
     Make that certain.
     "Well, Doctor Salik isn't here at the moment," replied Cassie,
trying to think of some way to fend the oft-annoying Siress off, without
ending up making matters worse. "Until then..."
     "Oh, but I'm sure that..."
    "Ahhhh!!!!" a voice cried out, from the inner ward.
     Boxey's!


     "Commander!" cried Rigel, back at her post down in "the pit". 
"There's an energy surge detected!"
     "From the probe?"
     "No. Main scanners, and it's directed towards the Galactica!"
     "Where?"
     "LifeStation!"   


     Cassie leapt up, ignoring Lydia, as she ran for the hatchway.
Inside, Boxey seemed to be struggling with an unseen opponent, clawing
and kicking in utter panic. The air about him seemed suffused with a
sickly, whitish aura. Without thinking, Cassie grabbed his biobed, and
pulled it away from the sickly mist. It banged against the opposite wall,
and Boxey seemed to shake free of whatever it was. She looked up from
him, to the bizarre manifestation...
     Then screamed.

Chapter Six

     Adama entered LifeStation, after Security had declared it safe. Or
as safe as things got, of late. Doctor Salik had rushed back at once,
having been on a short meal break, and both began questioning staff.
MedTechs Tone and Waheeb had been away, Tone checking immunizations and
boosters on the freighters Delta and Adena, Waheeb doing the same aboard
the Prison Barge. Doctor Paye had been visiting the freighter Malocchio,
conducting basic First-Aid classes for the Empyrean refugees. Two nurses
had been on furlon. Aside from Cassie, only MedTech Garcia had been
on-duty in the facility, inventorying the drug stores.
     "I heard what I thought was a shout, sirs, and I commed Cassie, but
she didn't answer. I ran in here, and the hatchway was open, and I saw
Boxey, trying to get out of the biobed. There was this weird...well,
light in the room."
     "Define 'weird', MedTech," said Adama. 
     "It was like staring into a searchlight, sir. Yet, it was...diffuse.
Like coming from inside a fog. And it was warm. Almost like being in a
sauna bath."
     "Then?" asked Salik. "What happened to Cassiopeia?"
     "She was pulled into it, sir. She and the other one. It was
like...like whatever it was just sucked them into itself. Then, the light
faded out, and they were gone."
     "Other one, MedTech?" asked Adama. "Who was she?"
     "I think it was Siress Lydia, sir. From the Council."


     "Are we receiving telemetry?" Ayesha asked Baltar, in their quarters
aboard the BaseShip. Above Baltar's "desk" was a collection of monitors
and repeater arrays, giving him a complete readout on every facet of the
ship's operation. On one scanner, he was following the data being
transmitted from the tribunal-rigged probe. 
     "Yes. It seems mundane, so far, Ayesha." He sighed. "Radion across
the spectrum. Hydrogen, helium, oxygen, radicals and isotopes of various
elements. All in all, a typical nebula, so far."
     "So far. But the answers to what happened to you and the others lies
in there, Baltar. There must be more than just a typical nebula."
     "I agree, my dear," said the traitor, adjusting one scanner readout.
"Whoever they are, they seem to have chosen a most effective hiding
place."
     "But we shall..." Ayesha stopped, as one scanner spiked. "What is
it?"
     "A radion spike," said Baltar, more to himself than to her. "In
fact, the same kind that was detected by the Galactica, just when the
other...Lords! It is happening again!"


     Cassie opened her eyes, and almost at once regretted it. The light
was almost blinding, and she had the headache from Hades Hole. She found
she had difficulty moving, and somewhere near her, a voice screamed.
     "Let me go!" Cassie recognized it at once as Siress Lydia. She tried
turning her head. Squinting against the light, she began to make out a
form, on their back, fairly close to her. A metron or so, was her best
estimate. As he eyes slowly adjusted, she could see that it was indeed a
Human form, and bound with some sort of restraints. As she looked, she
saw that the other person was naked, as was she herself.
     "S....Siress Lydia?' she managed to choke out. Her throat felt dry,
and the air was hot. 
     Maybe this was Hades Hole.
     "Cass....Cassie? Where...are we?"
     "I don't know. All I remember was Boxey, then...then the light."
     "I...can barely move! I..."
     "Me too. I..."
     She stopped, at a sound. The first sound she had heard, aside from
her own or Lydia's voices, since awakening here. It was an unpleasant
sound, like metal scraping on metal. Yet, it roused, from somewhere deep
inside Cassie, a reaction of pure fear. Some primeval, inarticulable...
     The light dimmed, and a dark form blocked out the light. What it was
she could not tell, but it seemed to "stand" there, still, then was
joined by others. Soon, as her eyes adjusted, she could begin to make out
details. From one of the dark forms, something reached out. Something
that Cassiopeia, survivor of Carillon, recognized.
     She screamed.


     "And what else?" asked Starbuck. He and Cassie had had a dinner
date, and when she had not shown up, he'd called. Informed of events, he
was whip-tight. Controlling his emotions with surprising success, the
Commander thought. Yet, both Adama and Apollo could see the anger, just
below the surface.
     The anger and the fear.
     "So far, nothing," said Hummer, in the Ward Room. "We picked up the
radion burst that appears to betray the actions of whomever it is, just
microns before the events in LifeStation. Whatever it is, it seems we are
still within it's range, sir."
     "But why Cassie?" asked Starbuck. "She doesn't have one of
these...implant things!" He gestured vaguely in the direction of
LifeStation. 
     "I have a theory," said Hummer. Starbuck looked at him, eyes wide,
and wordlessly invited him to declaim it. "Boxey, as we know, has such an
implant. We believe that the implants permit whoever it is to track
individuals already abducted. But..." he said, as Starbuck was about to
interrupt, "from the data recordings as well as what MedTech Garcia
reported, it seems Cassiopeia pulled Boxey away before he could be
transported through the vortex."
     "Vortex?" asked Tigh.
     "Yes, sir. From our scans, as well as data from the probe, there is
a vortex that opens up, the parameters of which are somewhat similar to
the distortions made by a ship's system when passing into light-speed.
Suffice it to say, it is a doorway. A portal to...  somewhere else. It
was opened, whomever controls it had locked onto Boxey, and they were
preparing to transport him...wherever it is, when Cassiopeia pulled him
away."
     "And got caught in the...whatever it is," said Sheba. 
     "Yes. Cassiopeia and Siress Lydia were inadvertently caught up in
the alien's transport system, or whatever it is, and taken in place of
the boy."
     "Can we get them back?" asked Starbuck, voice tight. 
     "All the rest have been returned, so far," said Adama, hoping to
calm the younger man. "We can only hope that they will be, also." 
     "We can't let this continue," said Starbuck, anger clearly close to
the surface. "They can't just be allowed to take whoever they want,
whenever it suits them! I mean...I mean who's next? One person has
already died! If...if..."
     "We'll get 'em, Buddy!" said Apollo. "We'll figure it out." He
turned to his father. "We have to take this to them, Father. Starbuck's
right, we can't just let them keep on kidnapping people whenever it suits
them."
     "But how, Captain?" asked Tigh. "Their technology is largely a
mystery to us. They seem to be able to transport on and off shielded
ships with ease."
     "We use bait, sir!" said Starbuck.
     "Bait?" asked Adama.
     "Yes, sir. If they can track their victims by means of those
implants, then why not use the one we have to our advantage?"
     "You mean set yourself up for a kidnapping?" asked Salik. "I..."
     "Why not? So far, they've snatched a child, and old man, Baltar, and
two women, none of whom were expecting it. Never someone ready and
waiting."
     "But buddy," said Apollo, hand on Starbuck's shoulder, "the risk..."
     "What about them?" he shot back, jerking his head in the vague
direction of the nebula. "And Boxey? Would he have even survived a third
time with these borays? We're Warriors. Risk is our business."
     "I..." began Salik again, when the comm sounded. It was LifeStation.
The women were back.     
     Baltar was also on the line, wanting to speak to Adama at once.
     And from the Constellation, Byrne also wanted the Commander.
     Now.


   Cassie stared, glassy-eyed, up at Starbuck, as if she did not
recognize him. In the bio-bed next to her, Siress Lydia was, seemingly,
awake, but gibbering like a demented simian. 
     "Doctor?" asked Adama.
     "I put both women on a blood filter at once, to try and screen out
any of the toxin left in their bodies. As yet, we have not been
successful in synthesizing an anti-toxin to this venom. And yes, scans
show that both have implants inside their skulls, just like Boxey and
Baltar."
     "What time did they reappear?" asked Byrne. Salik told him. Byrne
cursed. "That's barely a minute before Jen, Kalysha, and Malik vanished."
     "Tell me everything," said Adama.
     Byrne related how his daughter, with him aboard the newly-acquired
Constellation, was busy helping some of the newly-assigned people to
settle in to their new billets. Kalysha, wife of Byrne's fellow Earther
Cedric Allen, and native of a planet called Harkealis, had been taking a
short break in a rec room, when Malik, one of the Zohrloch survivors, and
newly reassigned there from the Century, had joined them. It was at this
point, as Jen had contacted her father on the bridge, that a bright,
foggy light was enveloping them. Within moments, they were gone.
     A comparison of the scans from the Galactica, the BaseShip, the
Senior Ship, and the Constellation, all correlated very closely. The same
mysterious energy pulse from the nebula, at the very moment of the
abductions.
     "And this has been going on for how long?" asked Allen. Like his
fellow Earthman, like Starbuck, the fear and anger for a loved one was
right below the surface. The look of anger and disgust on his face
bespoke volumes, but he kept it in.
     "These...dishonorable ket..." said Sargamesh, "have it seems
graduated. First single kidnappings, now multiples."
     "Just like back home," said Byrne. Several faces turned to look at
him. "It's a phenomenon known as 'alien abduction'," he told them.
"People all over the world claim that aliens, usually aboard craft of
unknown origin, have abducted them, and performed experiments on them of
various kinds. It's been going on, supposedly, as far back as the 50s.
Maybe longer."
     "I never believed in it," said Allen. "Till now."
     "Me neither," said Byrne. "But it looks like we don't have any
choice, now."
     "Explain this further, please," asked Adama. "Alien abductions?"
     Byrne did, with Allen filling in here and there. The Commander just
shook his head.
     "People who claimed they'd been abducted were usually labeled as
idiots, or insane, or delusional alcoholics. Ridiculed by the news media,
and scientific elites. Like I said, I never believed in it, until now."
     "Well, this is no delusion," said Baltar, gesturing towards the
monitor, where the tape of Jena and the rest's abduction was replayed.
"And Starbuck is right. We must take this to them. Stop this from ever
happening again."
     "Why not just leave this region of space?" asked Salik. "It did not
start until we came here."
     "They did not know of us, before," replied Baltar. "They do now.
Distance from the nebula seems to have no effect on their ability to
reach our ships. Even if we were quit of this sector this very centar, we
have no guarantee that they could not find us, and continue."
     Several faces looked at the traitor, and in some could be seen a
rare emotion.
     Respect.
     "He speaks the truth," said Sargamesh. 
     "Okay, so how do we do it?" asked Allen and Byrne, almost at once?
     "I have an idea," said Hummer.
     "Well, I hope it works," said Allen. "After what those bastards did
to the rest...I mean Kalysha..."
     "We'll get them," said Apollo.
     "But what if their...exam, harms her? She's not Human, after all.
And she's...."
     "Ced?" asked Kevin.
     "She's pregnant, Kev."
     "Holy crap!"

Chapter Seven

     "Yes, it's a problem," said Salik, after checking his medical files.
"The toxin would almost certainly have a deleterious effect on a pregnant
woman, Captain Allen. That, and there are still things we don't yet
understand about Harkaelian physiology. They are similar to Humans in
many ways, but there are some curious differences as well."
     "That's as may be," said Allen, tightly. "The question is how do we
get there, and stop this crap?"
     "Simply," said Sargamesh. "We become bait."
     "How?" asked Sheba, but even as she spoke, it came to her in a
flash. "The implant?"
     "Yes. The one removed from the deceased man. I can have it implanted
in myself, and thus insure that I become a target for abduction."
     "But that was inside the brain, wasn't it?" asked Ayesha. "How..."
     "She's right," said Salik. "The device was implanted deep inside the
brain, near the top of the brain stem. Not only is it incredibly risky,
but your brain structure is sufficiently different from ours to throw up
even more unknowns, Lieutenant."
     "That is unimportant, Doctor," replied Sargamesh. "We face an enemy.
A cowardly one, that preys on the unsuspecting, and the innocent. Hiding
behind women and children, treating them like beasts, ready for the
slaughterhouse." He turned to Adama. "I volunteer, Commander. Permit me
to be implanted with the device, that I might do as Starbuck and Baltar
have said. Take this fight to them."
     "We don't have the medical knowledge to remove these implants from a
living subject, Lieutenant," pressed Salik. "It also follows we don't
know how to implant them in the same way, and not kill the host. One
slip, one tiny slip, and you could be dead. Or a vegetable for life."
     "Who says it has to be in the brain?" said Byrne. "Sargamesh is
right, we have to do this, and time's a-wastin'. But the Doc's right too.
No sense turning you into a cabbage. You'd help no one." He turned to
Salik. "What about in another part of the body, Doc? Under the skin? Just
swallow it? Someplace where putting it in won't kill someone?"
     "We have no guarantee it will function, implanted anywhere else."
     "I think it will, Doctor," said Hummer. He looked around.
     "Go on," said Adama. 
     "Even after it was removed from Orenthal, the device has continued
to transmit a low-frequency EM pulse. Try as I might, I have not been
able to block it out as yet. On some level, it is still functioning. If
it were put inside another living body, it just might work."
     "But it was originally implanted inside the brain," said Apollo.
"Will it do...whatever it's supposed to do, if it's put anywhere else?"
     "There is no time to worry about that," said Sargamesh. "It could be
implanted just under the skull. Atop the cortical membranes. Doctor?"
     "Well, yes, but..."
     "Then let us..."
     "Commander Adama."
     "Adama here. Go ahead, Omega."
     "We've just gotten word from the Constellation, sir. The abductees
have returned."
     "Have them shuttled over here at....no, there is no time. We shall
use the matter transmission device. Have them prepped and we shall
transport them over here at once."
     "Sir."  


     Siress Lydia had quieted down by the time the others returned.
Instead of incessant incoherent babbling, she was just largely
unresponsive. Cassie had come to herself, but upon seeing Starbuck, had
begun to tremble, screaming about the Ovions of Carillon, and shaking
with terror. As soon as he felt it safe, Salik put both women under
sedation.
     "It's like she's back on Carillon," said Starbuck, as Cassie faded
into sleep. He explained her capture by the Ovions, and her rescue from
one of their horrific incubation chambers.
     "We call it PTSD," said Byrne, "Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder. It's
not uncommon among soldiers who've had terrible combat experiences, or
even civilians who have experienced some horrible event. It can surface
soon, or years later."
     "Doc?" asked Starbuck. 
     "Both women show the same signs, Starbuck. And..." he sighed
heavily, "yes, both have been examined as far as their reproductive
organs go."
     "And Jena?" asked Byrne.
     "Doctor Paye is still examining her and the others, but it seems so,
Captain." He saw Byrne's jaw clench, the Earthman barely keeping the
anger inside. "But, apart from the same toxin, I found no other unknown
substances in their bodies."
     Like Cassie and Lydia, Jena and Kalysha had returned nearly
incoherent, and in a state of terror. Jen was thrashing, and screaming
about "you bastards, get your claws off me!" Kalysha was exclaiming in
her native tongue, and her words needed no translator. For his part,
Malik raged like a mad man, spitting and shouting invectives, breaking
the bonds Paye had put on him, as a precaution, and attacking him. Unable
to get close with a hypo, all he could do was try and stay out of the
way. Seemingly oblivious to all around him, the Zohrloch was coming after
him, apparently bent on destroying him. Then, in a flash of light, Malik
fell to the floor. Behind him, Sargamesh stood, laser in hand.
     "Thanks," said Paye, picking himself up. "I didn't think..."
     "No, the fault is mine, Doctor," said the other. "I should have told
you." Sargamesh went on to explain how Malik had fallen into what his
people referred to as a zuhl'eth, or "battle frenzy". Similar to the
Human "fight-or-flight" response, intense stress, fear, or the intensity
of a struggle to survive triggered a hormonal response. The subject
became an almost-mindless killing machine, seeking only to strike out,
and annihilate, the object of their fury.
     "Given what must have happened, I can hardly blame him," said Paye,
calmer now. 
     "Perhaps the toxin triggered it," said Sargamesh. "Such things are
not unknown."
     "Glad he's not mad me," muttered Paye.


     While they debated their next move, Hummer was able to analyze
whatever telemetry had been received from the probe. It was fuzzy and
distorted, but he worked to enhance it.
     "Deep inside this nebular cloud, there is a star. A neutron star,
that is in the process of collapsing into a black sun. At present, it is
pouring out radion in unbelievable quantities, all across the spectrum.
As we surmised, no living thing could survive inside there."
     "Yet the abductees have," said Adama. "Doctor Salik's examinations
have shown no evidence of radion poisoning."
     "Yes, sir," replied the tech. "That had me stumped, too, until the
probe found this." He punched several keys. "Here, fairly close to the
nebular boundary, there is a null zone."
     "A null zone?" asked Tigh.
     "Yes, Colonel. A zone where there is no radion, no stellar winds, no
nebular gasses of any sort." He zoomed in on the image. Sure enough,
seemingly unaffected by the hideous maelstrom screaming all about it, was
a small island of apparent tranquility amid all the violence. "As far as
the probe could scan, this is the only place like this in the entire
nebula."
     "A cloaked vessel?" asked Adama.
     "Hard to be certain, sir," replied Hummer. "What readings we were
able to get don't read like those we have picked up before from cloaked
vessels. Of course, that could just be the massive radion around it."
     "Who or what ever is inside their must have some incredible
shielding," observed Sheba. "To screen out all that radion? Nothing we
know of could survive that."
     "I have a theory," said Hummer.
     Don't you always? mused Tigh.
     "One thing that we did pick up, albeit faintly, was a series of
gravity wave pulses." Blank faces all around. "Alright. Simply put.
Somehow, whoever is in control of that....thing, is able to use gravity
to keep this area of space clear and free of any interference."
     "What about the ultra-violet radion spike Rigel detected?" asked
Apollo.
     "We locked onto it, sir," replied Hummer. The image switched
wavelons. Slowly, extruding from the dark area was a thin line of light.
"This radion spike occurred at the very moment that the ladies from the
Constellation were taken. It was directed at the ship, and lasted for a
total of zero point two three three four centons." Then the image went
blank. 
     "What happened?" asked Baltar. 
     "The radion," said Hummer. "Telemetry from the probe failed
at...1413 centars. I have sent out a command for it to return to the
Fleet. Hopefully, the data recorder aboard will have remained at least
partially intact. Perhaps there's more to work on." He sighed. "So far,
no response from the probe."
     "So now," said Adama, "it would seem we wait."
     "Yes, sir."

Chapter Eight

     Jen woke up, again, and at first wanted to scream. Being Jena, she
of course did just that. Even the familiar face of her father above her
failed to quiet her at first. In fact, she pulled the coverlet about her,
and tried to roll up into a ball, batting away the hands that reached out
to her.
     "Genesis! It's me! It's Dad!" Byrne shouted. After a few moments,
Jen's eyes seemed to clear, and she began to relax. "It's me, hon. Come
on. Relax, Baby."
     "P...Pop?" she croaked, her voice sounding brittle and dry. "Pop?
What..."
     "You're back, Jen. Back aboard the Fleet."
     "They...they took me....they..." She stopped, her mouth open, eyes
squeezing shut in revulsion. She began to shake, and Byrne seated himself
next to her. She seemed to sob, silently, while he held her, gently
rocking her back and forth, as he'd done when she was little. He looked
up at Salik. 
     "I'll kill the bastards," he whispered. "I'm gonna wipe those
God-damned freaks out."
     He held Jen, till she seemed to settle down, falling once more into
a fitful sleep. As he gently settled her back down, and spread the
coverlet over her, he looked at the Doctor. 
     "I think Sargamesh has the right idea, Doc. We have to bait these
suckers into taking one of us. Only, I think it should be me."
     "It could be fatal," replied the CMO. "We still don't understand
exactly how it interfaces with the brain, or exactly how it was inserted.
One slip..."
     "If it'll save Jena from another round of this? I don't give a rat's
ass, Doc. Can you implant that thing in my head? Right under the lid,
like Sargamesh suggested?"


     "Commander Adama?"
     "Commander Adama here."
     "This is...Sarah, sir. Might I have a word with you, sir?"


     "Enough of words! It is time for swords!" exclaimed Sargamesh. Byrne
opened his mouth to speak...
     "If you two do not stop arguing," said Korl, in LifeStation, "I
shall just swallow the damned thing myself, and take my chances!" He
looked from Sargamesh to Byrne, both arguing over who should get the
implant. 
     "Korl..."
     "Hey..."
     "This just wastes time." He looked at Sargamesh. "I am not going to
let you destroy yourself just to be heroic!" said Korl to his
fellow-countryman, in their native tongue. To Byrne, it sounded like the
fellow was gargling grinder balls while trying to sing opera. "You are
too important, Sargamesh, to our surviving people!" He turned to Byrne.
"And your daughter is too young to be bereft of both parents. You," he
continued, in passable English, "will do Genesis no good if you get
yourself killed."
     "Spoken like a true accountant," said Byrne. "Look, I..."
     They turned as the door opened, and Sire Pelias, a woman next to
him, entered. 
     "Sire Pelias?" asked Byrne. He looked at the woman. Dressed as a
MedTech, he did not recognize her. She nodded to everyone, then went into
the inner ward.
     "Captain Byrne," replied the Sire. 
     "All of you," said Sargamesh. "It is quite obvious. I..."
     "LifeStation, this is the Bridge!" The voice was Rigel's. "Radion
spike from the nebula detected. Directed towards the Galactica!"
     Even as she spoke, the inner ward where the MedTech had gone filled
with the sickly white radiance. They all made for it, to behold the
intense brilliance pouring out of the "hole" in the air. Byrne leaped
towards the woman, to pull her back, only to find himself tripping over
Pelias. He heard Sargamesh curse, and something like a loud grunt from
someone else. Then, the vortex closed.
     The ward was empty once more.


     Byrne awoke to find himself on his back, staring up at...he wasn't
sure. It looked like a ceiling of some sort. Though in shadow, he thought
he could see struts and supports, as if part of the structure of some
vast room. It at once reminded him of parts of his old ship, back on
Earth. So, they were on a vessel of some kind. He even thought he could
discern a faint vibration, somewhere. Engines? A power plant of some
sort? Gotta be, to keep all that gas and radiation out. If he could get
free, maybe he could find it. Try and get the drop on these creeps. He
could feel as he struggled that was also bound to a table of some kind,
and after a few moments, realized that he had been stripped of his
clothing. He took a deep breath, and tried to speak. His throat and
tongue seemed sluggish, like after way too many cheap beers.
     Then, the room was flooded with light, and he squeezed his eyes
tightly shut. Not only was it intensly bright, but he felt as if he were
in sauna bath. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he tried to get a sense of
his surroundings. Above him, between he and the light source, was
something dark. Slowly, it resolved itself into something resembling the
instruments in an old-fashioned dentist's office. The nightmares of
childhood. A bank of...implements, of what sort he wasn't sure. He saw
needles, blades, what looked like some very nasty drills, and other
things that he could not identify. 
     Then, his view was blocked, as something moved across his vision. It
was dark, and seemed to be hooded. The one thing that was clear, however,
was that it was animate, and was looking directly down at him. Looking at
him through two huge, dark, faceted eyes, dimly illumined from within,
the only features he could discern within the hood. Byrne wanted to
scream, the image triggering something very atavistic, very primal
inside, the feeling of terror that went through him was so damnably
strong. 
     "Get away from...me!" he croaked out. The creature took no apparent
notice, and something was pressed against his neck. At first he felt
nothing, then slowly he began to lose control over his voluntary muscles.
     Paralyzed! Just like...
     The creature made a chittering sound, and moved away. Nearby, Byrne
could hear another voice. Human. It seemed that some of the others had
come through the vortex as well. Maybe, maybe they might have a chance
to...
     One of the instruments was lowered, and he felt a horrible pain tear
through him.
     He screamed.


     "Most of it's circuits are burned out," said Hummer, down in the
hangar bay, with Adama.  The probe, blackened and smudged, lay on a bench
before him, as he worked to pry off the cover plate.  "I'm surprised it
could even respond and return to the ship." 
     "Time is of the essence, you understand," said Adama. "You did know
there has been another abduction?"
     "No, sir. I've been down here for centars." He grunted as the plate
popped off at last.
     "There has been. We have little time, Technician."
     "Yes, sir."


     The creature went about whatever it was doing, chattering away in a
thin, squeaky sort of tonality. Was it speaking to others? Whatever, it
behaved as if Byrne was no more than a bug on a slide. Perhaps, to them,
that is all he was. He tried to scream again, but could not, as he saw
the creature lift up something from the table. It was his hand! His right
hand had been removed, and the creature seemed to be doing something to
it, with one of the mysterious instruments! God in Heaven, what...
     He was flipped over, the table he was on apparently built to spin,
like those in a modern hospital, and he felt another horrid blast of
pain, where his wrist had once been. An electrical-type shock, then a
numbness. The table spun back, then there was a sound.
     A crash. A crash, and a loud bellowing noise. The alien turned, and
Byrne caught a view of it's "face". It was like a bug, yet somehow
unlike. It darted away, towards the sound of the crash, leaving him for a
moment alone. Not that he was unhappy with this momentary reprieve, but
what the hell...
     There was a sudden eruption of chatter, as if a whole hive of the
horrid things were babbling at once. There was a ripping sound, like
metal tearing, and a heavy thud, followed by a wailing noise. He was
frustrated that he could not turn to see what was happening. The drug he
had been given seemed to be doing it's job all too well. He was utterly
paralyzed, yet cruelly aware of every waking moment. He fought to take a
deep breath, fought to gain some control over his body, or what remained
of it. He opened his mouth...
     "STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
     Then he felt himself tumbling, tipping over, as the table he was
laying on was sent violently spinning away into the gloom.
     


     "Colonel!"
     "Yes, Rigel?"
     "Picking up the device, sir. I have an approximate lock on our
people."
     "Excellent. Call Commanderr Adama at once."
     "Sir."
     "Helm, stand by."
     "Yes, Colonel," replied Omega.


     Hummer ran through the guts of the Battlestar, precious data
recorder in hand. If what he'd been able to pull from it and read were
accurate, then this crazy plan might just work.
     If.
     He stopped at the door, and keyed for entry. He was a bit surprised
to see Twilly there, but shoved it aside as he leapt towards the
equipment. The engineer was bent over the console, making adjustments.
     "Ready?" asked Hummer.
     "When the Commander gives the word. I just hope we don't have a
burn-out."
     "Tell me about it. Alright, first coordinate point..."


     Byrne came to a stop abruptly, his table having hit something. A
moment later, one of the aliens did as well, landing in a heap right next
to him, a long thin piece of metal rammed through it's head. He tried to
turn his head, but the paralyzing drug was almost fully in effect. He
tried to move, but it seemed of no use. Then, he felt the table spin
again, and someone was releasing him from his bonds. In the gloom, he
could not make out just who it was. He tried to stand, but his legs were
rubber. Whoever it was set him down against something, then was gone.
     "Wh...wait..."  he tried to croak, but nothing came out but a dry
rasp.
     God, he was thirsty.
     And he was angry!


     "Helm, bring us around," ordered Adama. "Forward electronic screen
to maximum."
     "Helm answering, sir," said Omega. "Forward screen to maximum."
     "Initiate."
     "Baltar's ship reports ready, sir," said Tigh.
     "Good. Tell them to initiate."
     "Sir."


     Sargamesh fought the lethargy that wanted to steal though his
muscles, and reached out for the closest unfamiliar form. He squeezed and
squeezed, till it shuddered and fell in a heap at his feet. Still woozy
and his vision blurred, he turned, grabbing up the first thing he could
find as a weapon, a long piece of metal. A metron or so away, something
was moving, figures in the darkness. He tried to make sense of it, and
bumped into another table.
     "Allen..." he said, having to force the word out, making out who it
was. He grabbed the restraints, and yanked as hard as he could. The bands
popped, and Allen struggled to rise. Like Byrne, he was as floppy as a
wet rag.
     "What's going on...Sargam..."
     "I am not sure. I was bound, then I was freed..."
     A bellow like a soul in torment rebounded through the room, and then
with a crash, some of the lights went out. Something loomed up in front
of him, and Sargamesh lashed out with his weapon, bringing it down on one
of the murky shapes. It squealed, and he felt something splatter him.
     A loud crack could be heard, and the roar of some angry beast. The
Zohrloch felt Korl slide past him, then saw him go down as something
slammed into his chest. 
     "Die, cowards!" he bellowed. "Die!"

Chapter Nine

     Forward shield on maximum, just as she had done at Terra, the
Galactica peeled away from the Fleet, heading straight for the nebula.
With a perceptible shudder, she crossed into the swirling cloud of
stellar garbage, like a plow into a snow bank. Her forward scanners began
to swirl with trash, then went to near-solid muck, as she burrowed deeper
into the maelstrom. 
     "Maintain scanner lock," said Adama.
     "Trying, sir," replied Rigel. "But this..."
     "Understood," replied Adama. After all, his people could only do
what they could do. 


     "Fire!" ordered Baltar, back aboard the BaseShip.
     "By your command," replied the gunner.
     A massive and powerful beam of blue energy ripped from the BaseShip,
and screamed into the nebula. Again the Cylon vessel fired. And again.


     Byrne felt one leg respond, weakly, and tried to follow it up. With
an agonizing slowness, he managed to bring his left leg under him, and
right himself. It seemed to take forever, as the fight went on without
him. 
     The entire room shook, as if someone had hit it with a gigantic
sledgehammer. Byrne was sent toppling again, all his hard work for
nothing. He swore and cursed, as the drug continued to make shit out of
his nervous system. 
     If this is it...God, please watch out for my baby! Jena...
     There was a loud screech, like an animal having it's throat cut, and
the room shook again, then, just as he seemed to be getting somewhere
focusing, Byrne's vision began to turn to mud again...


     "Now, sir!" said Rigel.
     "Now, Twilly!" shouted Adama.
     "Initiating!" came the reply.


     Byrne felt as if he must be dead. The floor had vanished from under
him, and with it his vision had seemed to evaporate as well. He felt no
tug of gravity, nor impression of sound, but seemed to be floating in
utter nothingness. Even the terrible pains that had wracked his frame but
a moment before had also disappeared, and there was no sense of
breathing, or even his own heartbeat. Yet, he remained strangely
conscious, aware of his own thoughts. He tried to breathe, but felt
nothing, neither could he hear his own voice, nor perceive any sense of
physical movement. If this was being dead, well, there were certainly...
warmer possibilities.
     Then, suddenly, amid a humming sound, it was all back, like being
hit with something hard, or the light suddenly going back on. His vision
began to return, and with it a blinding light. He felt sensation return,
as well as a sense of direction. He felt "down", and was falling, coming
to rest, abruptly, on something hard.
     "...off me!"
     "...zakhdib! Sefritik..."
     "Hold! Hold still!"
     "zzchchchctthchchczzzzzzz....."
     "Commander, we have them!"
     "Good! Helm, get us out of here!"
     Something big and heavy rolled onto Byrne's legs, and he swore
loudly, as he struggled against drugged muscles and a sluggish brain, he
saw Allen, as naked as he was, bring something in his fist down in an
arc, then a blue leg void of trouser blocked his view. He turned his head
as the sound of tramping feet filled his ears, and he saw several armed
security men fill what was obviously a room aboard the Galactica, weapons
pointed in his general direction. A body, an unclad blue one, rolled
across his field of vision, then, mercifully, he faded out. 

Chapter Ten

     Byrne scowled, at the taste of the hideous muck Garcia had given him
to drink, in LifeStation. It would restore his electrolytes to proper
balance, they said. Frankly, his electrolytes could stay right where they
were, if it spared him this rancid brake fluid.
     "God, what do you brew that from, anyway? Dead toads?"
     "It works," Garcia replied, smiling his best "meat ax" smile. 
     "Hell, the oil stains on Route 66 taste better than this!"
     "Complain all you want," he replied, unmoved. Under his glare, Byrne
forced down the rest of the fluid, and with a growl, handed the MedTech
back the cup.
     "Oh, I will," he shot back, with a half-smile. Like the docs at
NASA, he was only doing his job.
     I vas only followink orderz!!!!!! Jawohl!!!! 
     Flopping back on the pillow, Byrne took stock, as the memories came
back to him. They had been rescued by a quick-witted and, he was sure,
unorthodox use of the matter-transmitter device, recently acquired by the
Colonials from alien technology. Every living thing detected aboard the
alien vessel had been transported aboard in one big heap, the struggle
still in progress. While a lot of it was still a blur, it seemed they
would be alright. Jena was physically recovered fully, according to the
docs. 
     Her mind, however, well, time would tell. 


     "What is it?" asked Adama, at the observation port of the isolation
ward. Inside was...one of them, whoever they were. 
     "Despite the similarities, it is not an Ovion," replied Doctor
Salik. "It is, however, basically arachnoid in construction."
     They were staring at the only living member of the group that had
abducted their people. About the height of a man and standing on two
legs, it nonetheless looked more like some kind of insecton, with a
multi-segmented exoskeleton, and faceted eyes. It had, in fact, eight
limbs, six of them arranged much like a Human's arms. It had been brought
aboard with the rest, and had, with no small eruption of chittering
vocalization, protested this turn of events. While silent now, it had
babbled on for some time, giving the Languatron sufficient time and
exemplars to form a basic translation matrix. Now, it just glared at
them.
     Or maybe it was asleep. It was hard to tell.
     "No wonder it affected Cassiopeia as it did," said Adama. "Will we
be able to question it?"
     "The language matrix is largely in place. That depends on it,"
replied the doctor. "It's our people I'm worried about."
     "How bad?"
     "Well, Boxey is young, and has the resiliency of childhood. He may
do better than the others. It's the others I'm more concerned about.
Cassie, as I said, was badly traumatized by the experience, as was Siress
Lydia. She has awakened, but not spoken more than a few words." Both
turned, as the hatchway chimed. Adama nodded, and Salik opened the door. 
     "Commander," said "Sarah", entering. "How...?" She indicated the
creature in isolation.
     "Docile for the moment," said Adama. "I owe you all our thanks yet
again, Nizaka."
     "One pays one's debts, Commander," bowed the Ziklagi slightly. "I
partly blame myself for this mess."
     "Yourself?" asked Salik. "How so?"
     "I failed to recall in time some of the legends about this region of
space."
     "Legends?" asked Adama.  
     "Yes. Legends of creatures that abduct unwary travelers. I first
heard them ages ago, when I was off-world from Ziklag. I paid scant heed,
and like most of my people, regarded them as fables, told to scare off
explorers and traders, since, as we have seen, pirates and other scum
roam parts of this sector with near-impunity. It was only after I heard
the rumors filtering through the crew, that I remembered what I heard so
long ago, and came to you."
     "And my thanks that you did, Nizaka. Without your help, we might
have never found a solution to this."
     "As I said, my obligations, Commander.' She looked through the heavy
transparent tylinium viewport, at the alien. It turned even her stomach.
What it and the others had done turned it even more. "However, sir, there
may be a problem in the offing."
     "With the alien?"
     "With Captain Byrne, sir. I think he suspects something. About me."
     "Anything specific?"
     "During the operation aboard the RB-33 Station, he briefly caught
sight of me in my true form. While there were other Ziklagoio there in
Krylon's employ, I think he suspects something does not tally. I was
forced to directly aid his daughter while in my natural state, and I am
sure she has mentioned something of it to him. And," she sighed, "aboard
the alien ship, I was in my true form for some ee...centons, and I may
have been seen again."
     "You think he might be a danger?" asked Salik.
     "I do not know, Doctor. Commander. I do know that his world has made
no contact, at least no official contact, with non-Humans. Certainly,
beings such as myself would be...surprising. So far, the very few aboard
the Fleet who know of my true nature have been discreet. Captain Byrne's
relationship with Siress Lydia, however, is disquieting. He is very
astute, Commander. And, if he should learn the truth, he might tell her."
She looked at Adama. "And Siress Lydia is not someone I would trust,
Commander. Human, Ziklagi, or otherwise."
     "I take your point, Nizaka," said Adama. "I shall keep an eye on
Captain Byrne, as best I can. The fact that he now has his own ship
should lessen potential contact."
     "That is most welcome, sir."


     "Who are they?" asked Baltar, on the commline from his BaseShip.
Like the rest, Human, Zohrloch, or Ziklagi, he found the creatures
hideous and repulsive. Like the rest, he still felt anger over the way he
had been abducted and treated.
     "They call themselves Ischt'k," said Wilker, in the Ward Room with
Adama and the rest. "According to what the individual now in isolation
has told us, they are explorers."
     "Explorers!" exploded Baltar, red-faced. "They are vile and
disgusting kidnappers! They..." He stopped, Ayesha's hand on his arm.
     "Where do they come from?" she asked, voice soothing.
     "From somewhere outside our dimension," said Wilker. "From what we
can make sense of, they originate in another universe, or quantum
reality, than we do. From time to time, they make ventures into others,
including our own, for purposes of study. This nebula, so close to an
exploded star, is one such entry point."
     "Like a duck blind," said Allen. They turned to look at him. He
explained. "A hunter uses a specially-made redoubt, camouflaged to match
the environment, from which to scout prey. When they come within
range..." he snapped his fingers. "It's curtains."
     "Yes, quite," said Wilker. "They conceal themselves in locations
near to the portals back to their own universe, and catch any passing
ships or lifeforms they encounter. It seems that they cannot survive
permanently in our universe."
     "They will die?" asked Command Centurion Moray, his image on a
screen next to Baltar's.
     "Yes, Command Centurion. There is something in the fundamental
quantum and dimensional structure of our universe which in inimical to
their life form. And, vice versa, apparently. So, they make short forays
into other universes, and study them as best they can, while heavily
shielded."
     "Disgusting," muttered Sire Pelias under his breath. Next to him,
Sheldrake just scowled, angrily.
     "They don't seem to recognize any other species as intelligent,"
said Wilker. "At least not up to their level, much as we would regard a
daggit, or even a garden pest. To their way of thinking, this means they
can do with any other beings whatever they want, without compunction. As
we have seen, that can become dangerous. From what this individual has
told us, they assumed they were the only true sentient beings in
existence, anywhere."
     "Well, now they know different," growled Baltar. 
     "Now what?" asked Apollo.
     "Well, our attack has, it appears, shut down the portal back to
their universe," said Wilker. "The one we hold cannot return. Both we and
the BaseShip bombarded their vessel with mega lasers. It has been totally
destroyed, and the nebula has returned to normal in that region. The
threat has been eliminated."
     "And," threw in Tigh, "We will clear the region of the nebula in
just under nine centars, at our present speed. As near as we can tell,
the threat will be behind us."
     "Good," said Starbuck, voice still angry at what had been done to
Cassie. Although she was now conscious, she was quiet and withdrawn. Like
Sheldrake, all he could feel was anger. Anger and hatred for this race of
beings who treated others like pond scum; something to be studied, then
scraped off and tossed away. He looked up at Adama, and saw that the
Commander had seen those thoughts in him.
     Damn.
     Adama drew the meeting to a close, uncomfortable with the possible
display of negative emotions in front of the Cylons. Before closing the
line, however, he looked at Command Centurion Moray. 
     "My thanks to you and your crew, Command Centurion," he said,
finding that the words did not seem to stick in his craw quite so badly
as before. Moray focused his gaze on the Commander, his oscillating red
eye stopping, indicating that the Cylon was giving Adama his full
attention. "Your gunners, clearing a path through the nebula for the
Galactica's scanners as you did, as well as for the matter transmitter,
made rescue possible. We could not have achieved victory without your
assistance."
     "You are welcome," replied Moray, his use of the Human phrase
surprising more than one Colonial. "That we are useful is...pleasing."
     "Indeed you are, Command Centurion. Again, my thanks to your entire
crew."
     "LifeStation to Ward Room."
     "Ward Room here," replied Colonel Tigh. 
     "We need Commander Allen, at once, sir."


     "You what?" asked Salik, a look of shock on his face.
     "Slap her," repeated Allen, at his wife's bedside. 
     "How..."
     "Have you checked her blood?" he asked.
     "Yes, and frankly, there are some things we don't understand.
But..."
     "She needs pain right now, Doctor. If she doesn't get it in time,
she might not ever wake up!"
     "What the Hades..." began Salik, but Allen was ignoring him. 
     After her return from the alien vessel, Kalysha had become listless
and depressed. Her vital signs, always a bit off by Human standards,
continued to slip, giving Salik some real concern. With her condition, on
top of the alien drugs given her, a dangerous, even fatal reaction seemed
likely. After several centars of this, she slipped into a coma, from
which she refused to awaken.
     Now, her brain waves were spiking, and vitals were swinging up and
down like a carnival ride.
     Turning his back on everyone, Allen raised an arm, and hit her. Yes,
hit her, right across the face. At the same time, he grabbed one arm,
digging his fingernails deep into her flesh, letting the slightly
orange-hued blood ooze out. The others tried to pull him away, but he
fought them off, till she suddenly opened her eyes, and shouted...
     "Leave him be!" It was almost a wheeze. She wobbled in bed, blinking
as she tried to focus, reaching out and grabbing Allen's arm for support.
Then she looked up at the doctor. "Please, let him go."
     "This is incredible," said MedTech Wahib, running a scanner over
her. "Her vital signs are returning to normal, Doctor." He looked up,
shaking his head.
     "What in Hades Hole just happened?" asked Salik, of both of them, as
he checked the scanner himself.
     "It was needful, Doctor," said the Harkealian woman. "I was in
danger of slipping into a death coma."
     "But..."
     "It is called the pesh ankh, in our tongue" she said. "The Sleep of
Life. When one of my race suffers a serious physical or mental trauma, we
go into a..." she stopped, searching for a word. "Immobile, or
hibernative state, lasting anywhere from a few centars, to a secton. It
permits the body to work to restore itself, and is triggered by a
hormonal secretion. It is involuntary, I assure you."
     "And the..." Salik gestured vaguely at Allen. 
     "The combination of pesh ankh with pregnancy can be dangerous.
Sometimes, a sharp shock, or the infliction of pain, is needed to allow
one to rise to awareness. I am sorry, I should have informed you, but
with all that has happened of late..." She shrugged. 
     "I see," replied the CMO. He looked from one to the other. Clearly,
he didn't like what he'd just heard. 
     "Doctor!" cried Wahib. Salik looked up. "The alien prisoner, sir!"
     Salik ran into the isolation ward, but it was too late. The
mysterious alien was lying on the floor, quivering. Within moments, it
had fallen still, and it's body began to break down, pieces of the
exoskeleton falling away. Soon, all that were left were bits of carapace,
where the remains had crumbled into dust.

Chapter Eleven

     "My final medical report, Commander," said Salik, three days later,
in Adama's quarters. They had left the nebula behind, slowly bringing the
Fleet back onto the Epsilon 22 heading for Earth. Bit by bit, things
seemed to be returning to normal. Adama nodded, as he read over Salik's
report.
     "The alien remains?"
     "Not much left, aside from a few fragments, Commander. As suspected,
similarities to crawlon species known to us, but little else."
     "And our people?"
     "Varied, Commander. We have been unable to find a way to remove the
implants, so far, without killing the hosts. I must say Baltar wasn't
very happy about that," Salik tried not to smile, "although otherwise,
his health is fine. In fact, physically, everyone seems to be nearly
recovered. Almost everyone."
     "Almost?"
     "Yes. Boxey is back to medical baseline, as are Cassie, the Byrnes,
and the rest. He still has violent dreams though. Therapist Tarnia
suggests perhaps hypnotherapy, if they continue. Fortunately, Zohrloch
physiology is far more resistant to the toxin the aliens used than that
of Humans. That's why they lasted as long as they did. I might add that
Nizaka, in her natural state, is entirely immune to it. Otherwise, she
could not have freed herself and liberated our people."
     "We should be thankful for that. Go on."
     "Cassie is slowly coming back to herself, mentally, but she has
episodes where she becomes blank. If it continues, I may have to put her
on restricted duties. Jena seems less unfocused, but it is Siress Lydia I
am most worried about."
     "How so?"
     "She has not spoken a word in over twenty-four centars, Commander.
Medically, she checks out. Her body is free of the alien toxin, and
everything reads as perfectly normal for a woman her age, but she seems
to still be in a fugue state."
     "Psychological depression?"
     "I am going to ask Tarnia for a diagnosis, if Lydia does not
improve." He flipped through the report. "As I said, the Zohrlochs seem
alright. Aside from anger issues ( He smiled. Their entire culture seemed
to be one big anger issue!), they manifest no apparent ill-effects. But
Kalysha..."
     "Yes?"
     "She miscarried early this morning."
     "I thought she was recovered."
     "So did I," said Salik, shaking his head. "But there seem to be yet
more mysteries when it comes to her physiology. That...pesh ankh of hers,
or whatever it is, plus the alien drugs..." He turned his hands up. "It
was very fast, and she will recover. But of course, she and Commander
Allen are very upset."
     "I can imagine," said Adama. "Coming after a terrible experience
such as this."
     "I am also recommending medical furlon for Lieutenant Sheldrake,
sir."
     "Sheldrake? But he was not abducted."
     "No, but he has emotional issues, resulting from what the aliens did
to his grandfather. A lot of anger, and I can certainly sympathize. The
two of them were very close, Commander. I fear it could interfere with
his duties, so I'm recommending him for extended furlon."
     "Tarnia?" asked Adama, after a moment's consideration.
     "If it goes on too long," nodded the doctor. "For the present,
perhaps a stint in maintenance, over on the electronics ship. His service
record indicates that he has quite an aptitude with Viper flight control
systems, so I understand from Sheba."
     "Very well," nodded Adama. The last thing they needed was something
causing Sheldrake's anger to erupt, in front of any Cylon pilots. They
would hardly understand, and the d‚tente was too important to risk. "I
shall post the order. The services for Orenthal are this afternoon, so I
shall inform him then."
     "Yes, sir." Salik rose.
     "Which reminds me, amid all of this, how is Athena?"
     "Doing very well, along with the twins. I have released her from
LifeStation, and she and Boomer are in their quarters."
     "Thank you, Doctor," said Adama. He shook the CMO's hand, and Salik
left.
     The Commander rose, and went to the port, gazing out at the stars,
the nebula they had just left behind, and it's bizarre portal to an
unknown universe, now a shrinking smear across the drape of night. He
shook his head, as he thought over these last few sectars, ever since
they had entered that part of the universe controlled by the Ziklagoio
and the Zykonians.  Somehow, despite everything, those regions they had
traversed before, from fleeing the Colonies to the battle with the lone
BaseShip, had seemed safer. Perhaps it was because there, the enemy was
known, the threats familiar. Here, they were unlike anything known to Man
before, and you couldn't pronounce half their names. Yet, once again,
they had survived the cruel unknown, come through yet another trial,
another enemy that would have left them as dead as the Cylons. There was
much in that to be thankful for. Yet, somehow, it all seemed so
pointless. A man was dead, and for what? Did it all have some higher
meaning? He somehow doubted Orenthal would think so. He shook his head.
     But, at least they had the proof, now. Proof, undeniable, that Earth
was there. It did truly exist, and they were headed in the right
direction. If only they knew how long it was going to be. A day? A
secton? Half a lifetime? Would he himself even live to see it? To get to
this part of the star system, Byrne and Allen had traversed...God alone
knew how many light-yahrens of space, his ship's data banks either gutted
or wrecked.  Perhaps...
     Why, Lords? Why this...tantalizing way? These bits, these crumbs,
when we need so much more? How far must we travel, before we get there?
What will we find, when we do get there? What new dangers will we meet,
on the way? Will Baltar and his crew be a help unlooked for, or a bane
unavoidable? He saw Baltar's ship, on the edge of the Fleet, one bay door
opening as she prepared to launch the next patrol, and sighed. And,
tomorrow, wearingly, was another meeting of the Council. He sighed again.
Oh Ila, how I find myself in need of your counsel, your soothing wisdom.
More and more, as the days go by, Beloved. More and more. 
     Turning, finally, from the view port, he sat down at his desk, and,
sorting through a stack of data chips, slid one into his reader, a copy
of one of the disks brought from Earth, and retrieved from Byrne's ship,
the Saint Brendan. A highly technical study of Earth's solar system, and
her people's exploration of its planets, he immersed himself in the
material, arming himself for tomorrow's meeting. Thankfully, both Earth
voyagers would be present. Then, when he had at last had enough, he lay
down, falling almost at once into a deep and much-needed sleep, dreaming
sad and melancholy dreams. He kept reaching out across cold, empty space,
to take hold of the globe of the Earth, but he could not grasp her, and
the hand was not his own.


     Felling from the Cylon tyranny, the last Battlestar, Galactica,
leads a rag-tag fugitive fleet, on a lonely quest-a shining planet, known
as Earth.