Caprica the Brave
          by Seanchaidh
            January, 1998

** Note: This is not supposed to make fun of anything, it
was written mostly by chocolate inspiration.  The satirized
song is "If It Makes You Happy" by Sheryl Crow (c1996).
I've never listened to her music, but I know people who do
and who don't like her.  So there.

** Another note: This is _not_ the history of the bagpipes.
This is just for fun.  If you want to know, ask me and I
shall speak.  At least about what I know...

** Yeah, yet another note: you'll get confused if I don't
tell you the following. P'iob (piob) is Gaelic for bagpipe,
and p'iobaire (piobaire) means piper. G\aidhlig is Gaelic
for (you guessed it) Gaelic.  There, now you know. :)
------------------------------------------------------------
     Colonial Yahren 7353

     Part 1 -- Will Ye No Come Back Again

     The music on the _Rising Star_ definitely needed
improvement.  Jolly hated coming here on his furlons and
listening to the felgercarb as he tried to relax.  Boomer
didn't seem to mind, but then again, his friend was always
easy when it came to music.
     "Hey, relax, Jolly," Boomer told him now as he drummed
his fingers against the tabletop.  The Astral Lounge was
filled with the sounds of yet another Spheroid clone trying
to play a song.  Trying was definitely the word, and they
weren't succeeding.  "This is a place to _relax_, not to be
tense.  You're acting like you're on the _Galactica_,
waiting for the klaxon to go off."
     Jolly smirked as he took a sip of his ambrosa.  Maybe
if he had enough to drink, he'd be able to tolerate the
music.  Just maybe...
     "Well, y'know, it's been a stressful secton, with the
Cylons just out of range.  If they'd just come out and let
us attack them, I'd feel a lot better."
     "Uh huh."  Boomer's head nodded along with the rhythm
of the music.  It nearly drove Jolly crazy.  "Say, what do
you think of the band?"
     `Don't ask me that, Boom,' he pleaded silently, but his
dark friend's intense expression compelled him to speak.
"Well, I've heard better."
     "That's what I thought."
     The band finished playing, and Jolly nearly jumped up,
applauding the end of their set.  The lead musician, a young
man who _really_ needed a haircut, bowed and grinned,
motioning to his band as they collected their instruments
together to leave the stage.
     "Sires and siresses, that was Green Cycle!" the emcee
announced, walking on stage.  "Show them your appreciation
for their music!"
     "I'm clapping because I'm appreciating their
departure," Jolly muttered, just loud enough for Boomer to
hear.
     "Watch what you say, Jolly.  I hear that they've got a
fan following that would frighten the Cylons off."
     "Some people have no taste."
     "And now, we'll have a five centon break before the
next band comes on," the emcee continued.  "Get ready for
Scharel Crawe!"
     Jolly's hope for a better band faltered at the
announcement of the singer.  He remembered her early
attempts at getting hit songs on Caprica, and he knew that
they were in for another round of rotten music.
     "Come on, Boomer, let's get out of here."  He swigged
down the last of his ambrosa, then shoved his chair back as
he stood up.  He looked at Boomer expectantly.  "Let's go."
     "Aw, why?"  Boomer motioned to the stage where the
technicians were setting up for Scharel's set.  "I _like_
her latest song."
     "`Bring you comiques in bed, scrape the mold off the
bread/And serve you leon toast again'?" Jolly quoted,
raising his eyebrows.  "You liked _that_?  Give me a break,
will ya?  Come on, there should be a shuttle coming here at
any centon to get us back to the _Galactica_."
     Boomer shook his head as he motioned for the waiter to
bring him another baharii.  "Look, Jolly, I think I'm going
to hang around here for a bit longer, `kay?  It's not every
cycle I get to hear this kind of music."
     "You should count your blessings," Jolly muttered
again, then gave his friend a sympathetic look.  "Enjoy."
     "Hey."  Boomer's voice made him stop before he could
take a step away from the table.  "If you don't like the
music, suggest something to the people in charge.  There are
probably other people who don't like this music.  Just think
about what you want to listen to."
     "Thanks for the advice."
     Jolly wandered away from the table to the corridor.  He
wanted to get away as far away from the Lounge as he could
when Scharel started.
     `What do I want to listen to?' he wondered as he passed
civilians who were trying to get into the Lounge.  They
didn't bother stepping aside for him, so he had to push his
way through.  `Oh, there's definitely only one kind I want
to hear.'
     He closed his eyes for a micron as he almost heard the
music in his ears: the soul-satisfying keen of the p'iob.
He remembered his boyhood summers when he and a few of his
friends would go out into the countryside, bringing their
p'iobs with them to play to nature.  There was nothing quite
like them in the entire Colonies, nor would there ever be
again.
     The p'iob originated on Kobol, in the area not under
the influence of the first Kobolian lords who had tried to
conform the various groups into a single Kobolian nation.
The continent, known to the Kobolians as Keltoia, remained
independent under the ensuing Lords by keeping its cultural
identity alive through resistance.  They even had to do it
in secret at various times, passing their dialects and
customs through secret ceremonies that initiated the young
into adulthood.
     When the Twelve Tribes left Kobol, the p'iob traveled
with them.  However, at that time, there was only one kind
of p'iob, but as the members of the Keltoia nation spread
throughout the twelve worlds, the p'iob evolved to adapt to
the different worlds.  During the millennia of the Dark
Epoch of Colonial history, between the loss of the full
Kobolian culture to the technological renaissance that
originally started on Caprica more than seven thousand
yahrens later, many Colonies lost their p'iob.  With them,
or at least in Jolly's opinion, a part of their past.
     This was the lore that had been passed down from
generation to generation of p'iobaires, and Jolly remembered
it well when his teacher, an older man named M\icheal,
taught him about the piping history yahrens ago.  Caprica
was one of the few Colonies where the p'iob had survived,
and had developed into nearly half a dozen different
versions throughout the yahrens.
     But when the Destruction of the Colonies occurred, it
destroyed all the p'iobaires in the Colonies, along with
their instruments.  Jolly's beloved set wasn't spared,
destroyed along with his family's home on Caprica.  He
remembered the fevered plans in the sectars leading up to
the armistice, and the videocom calls to his boyhood
friends.  They were all his distant cousins, and he could
remember them all from when he first arrived at Creignish, a
few cycles after the destruction of Umbra.  His parents had
left a few yahrens earlier to help with the new Keltoi
farms.  Since the ties between Umbra and Kintrye were still
strong when the attack occurred, Jolly was one of the few
children who were identified and taken in by family members.
     Tormod was a bureautician in Kintyre, a larger Keltoi
community, who was beginning to teach his three-yahren-old
son the ways of the ancient p'iobaires.  Jolly remembered
the pride in Tormod's face as he spoke of his boy. Then
there was Raonaid, a social worker in the slums of Caprica
City who had dedicated her life to helping the war orphans
who hadn't been as lucky as she all those yahrens ago.
Finally, there was Eideard, who was still struggling to make
something out of his life, while his three friends were
enjoying their own hard-earned personal successes.
     All but Jolly died in the Annihilation, destroying the
plans the group had made to travel the Colonies to play
their P'iobs with various bands.  Jolly remembered searching
for his friends on the survivors list, and feeling empty as
their names didn't turn up.
     Jolly sighed as he reached the waiting rooms, noticing
that there were only a few seats left.  He checked the
monitor for the latest arrivals and departures for the
shuttles, finding that the next shuttle to leave for the
_Galactica_ was due in ten centons.  Sighing, he found a
seat near the entrance to wait.
     On his right was a young woman who was occupied with
the man on her other side.  He watched her for a few
microns, admiring her bright blond hair until she glanced at
him with a disdainful expression.  He realized that he was
humming the last song from Green Cycle's set.  Mentally
hitting himself on the head, he leaned back in his seat and
closed his eyes.
     "I take it that you were in the Astral Lounge a few
centons ago," a voice on his left said.  Jolly opened his
eyes to see an older man with large brown eyes looking at
him.  The old man smiled widely as Jolly nodded.  "I thought
so.  They aren't too good, are they?"
     "Tell me about it," Jolly agreed, glad to talk to
someone who had the same opinion as he.
     "Which colony are you from?" the man queried.
     "Caprica."
     "Ah, yes," the old man sighed.  "Caprica.  My wife's
family was from that colony.  I spent a few sectars there
almost forty yahrens ago.  Beautiful planet, wasn't it?"
     "Yeah."  Jolly felt slightly uncomfortable in talking
about his former home.  Very few people enjoyed talking
about the Colonies, and he wasn't one of them.
     "Spent a few yahrens going from colony to colony, just
to take in the sights of everything.  I'm glad I did.  A few
sectars after I visited my last colony, Libera, there were
the Armistice talks and then the Cylons attacked."
     Jolly nodded, beginning to lose interest in the old
man's ramblings.  Now he just wanted to get on the shuttle
to get back to his bunk on the _Galactica_.  Maybe then he
could pull out some of his recordings of some of Caprica's
most famous p'iobaires, especially old M\airi of Glaschu.
Her heyday was long before Jolly's birth, but M\airi's
recordings were required listening for many students.
     "Do you know what I miss the most?" the old man
continued, sighing.  He surprised Jolly, who had almost
forgotten that the old man was there.
     "What?" he asked, if only to be polite.  He'd more or
less decided that he would listen to M\airi's recordings.
It would remind him of the summer concert he and his friends
had attended ten yahrens ago, where many of Caprica's
p'iobaires had paid tribute to M\airi's music.
     "I curse the Cylons for many, many things, but I think
I will hate them the most for ending all the traditions that
our ancestors worked so hard to keep.  Did you know that
Caprica had countless traditions that date back to Kobol?"
The old man's face was alive with enthusiasm.  "Oh, I'm not
talking about that Koboliana religion hobnob that the mighty
commander seems to enjoy spouting every fifth sentence.
Rather, I -- er, sorry," he stopped, smiling sheepishly as
though noticing Jolly's uniform for the first time, "no
disrespect meant."
     "None taken."  Jolly had to smile, now knowing what
some people thought of Adama.  A religious zealot?  Well,
from what he heard about what happened around the time they
found Kobol, he might be tempted to agree.  "Which
traditions were you thinking about?"
     "Oh, there's an ancient group of people, who probably
outdate the Lords of Kobol themselves.  They're known as
being of the Keltoia religion."
     "That's my heritage," Jolly told him, surprised at
actually meeting someone who shared his background.  The
last ones had been his family, during a very heated
argument.  He remembered his great-aunt and uncle who had
raised him.  Se\oras had been a medtech before his
retirement when Jolly was twelve, and his aunt, Br\idg\id,
was a dancing instructor for the local community center.
"My uncle would always boast that their lineage was pure
Keltoi."
     "Ah!"  The old man's face burst into a wide grin.  "_Is
mise P\adraig.  Ciamar a tha sibh?  Bidh mi fear-c�uil.
Bidh mi a' dol dhan luchdair _Epona_.  Am bi thu a' dol dhan
_Galactica_ cuideachd?  D\e an t-ainm a th'oirbh?_"
     Jolly shook his head.  "I'm afraid that I don't speak
the language very well anymore.  I'm a little out of
practice."
     The old man tilted his head in confusion.  "Out of
practice?"
     "I hadn't seen my family in yahrens when the attack
occured," he confessed.  "I was going to make amends when
the Armistice was signed, but I never had the chance.  You
could say that I was a kind of... outsider in my family.  I
guess it all stems from me being one of the Umbran orphans."
     "Ah, yes.  Umbra.  Well, I'm sorry to hear that."  The
man looked away, as though uncertain whether it was worth
continuing the conversation with him.  "If you're a little
out of practice with understanding G…idhlig, I guess I'd
better tell you what I originally said.  My name is
P\adraig, and how do you do?  I was a musician before I
retired, and I'm headed for the freighter _Epona_, and I
assume that you're going to the _Galactica_, no?"
     "That's right."
     "And your name is?"
     "Jolly.  Flight Sergeant Jolly.  That's what they call
me here, anyway.  My real name is actually Cailean.  But
please call me Jolly.  No one's called me Cailean in
yahrens."
     "All right, then.  Pleased to meet you, Jolly."
P\adraig smiled.  "Well, if you're Keltoi, then you must
_certainly_ be familiar with the music."
     Jolly grinned.  "That, I certainly am."
     "And you also must certainly be aware that many of the
old traditions died along with our people?"
     "That, too."  Jolly smiled.  Maybe the old man was a
kindred spirit after all.  "The thing I miss the most are
the p'iobs."
     "I know exactly what you mean.  In my youth, I was a
champion p'iobaire.  Traveled across all the colonies,
playing at different competitions.  Oh, I miss those cycles,
and now I'll never be able to hear them again..."
     Jolly smiled sympathetically.  "I know.  I'd been
meaning to bring my pair up with me back to the _Galactica_,
but where would I have practiced it?  The bays when they're
shut down?  An empty observation deck?  Besides, I'd have to
go speak to my family, and I wasn't really ready for that."
     "Ah, so you're a p'iobaire as well.  You're the first
I've met since leaving the Colonies."  P\adraig leaned back
in his seat.  "I've checked around the different ships,
seeing if there were anyone with a p'iob.  I thought that
maybe, just maybe, someone somewhere saved at least one set,
then maybe we'd have something to go by.  Nothing."
     The two men fell silent as the arrival of a shuttle to
the Agro ships and to the Gemonese freighter was announced,
then watched the people go through the waiting area.  Jolly
wondered how many of them had heard a p'iob during their
lifetime, then he wondered how many actually missed the
instrument and realized that they were next to extinct.
     "Do you have access to any supplies?" P\adraig
wondered, a sly expression in his brown eyes.  Jolly found
that they reminded him a bit of Starbuck whenever he was
about to get Apollo implicated in one of his Pyramid
schemes.
     "What kind of supplies?"
     "Oh, say like... tubing, maybe?  Odds and ends that
might be put together to make a p'iob?"
     Jolly found himself chuckling.  The p'iobaires of old
would turn over in their graves if they heard the
conversation.  Caprican P'iobs were generally made of
special blackgrained wood that was found in the mid-
equatorial range, and they were decorated with ivoire, a
rare organic substance that was harvested from free-ranging
grazing animals from the same area.  Both of these products
were completely unavailable to them in fleet.
     "If my teacher only heard what you were saying..."
     "I was always considered to be a rebel," P\adraig
laughed, pushing his white hair out of his eyes.  "I used to
try different things with my old pair, trying to improve
upon the design.  I remember most of the specifics, I think.
I'm not in that bad shape for my old age, y'know, no matter
what my kids might try to tell you."
     "Well, I'll see what I can come up with.  I can always
ask around, pull a few favors."  Jolly grinned as he
remembered all the troubles that Jenny, Starbuck's crew
chief, had gone through to find Starbuck his favorite candy
bars for his first-ever natal cycle celebration.  He
wondered if he could have the same success as the dark-
haired technician.
     "_ _Galactica_ shuttle now docking in bay C,_" came the
announcement over the speakers.  "_All passengers with
duckets to the Battlestar _Galactica_, please advance to
gate C.  Thank you._"
     "That's my shuttle," Jolly said, jumping up.  He
glanced back down at the old man, who appeared to be
disappointed at his imminent departure.  "Hey, P\adraig, why
don't I look around, and if I find anything, I'll give you a
call?"
     "I'd like that."
     "Good.  Freighter _Epona_, right?"
     "Right." P\adraig smiled.  "You'd better go get your
shuttle."
     Giving the old man a smile, Jolly turned and headed for
gate C.  In his mind, he pictured the parts of the p'iob as
he wondered what would be the bastardized version of it.
     `This is definitely better than ol'Scharel Crawe any
centon,' he thought with satisfaction.

     Caprica the Brave, Part II -- Highland Laddie

     For the next two cycles after meeting P\adraig, Jolly
kept a list of possible parts that could be turned into a
p'iob.  Reeds were no problem, since he knew that trees were
grown on the Agro ships.  The bag wouldn't be hard to put
together, provided he could find someone who could make it.
     The drones were another story.  The p'iob that Jolly
wanted to make had three drones.  One was very long, giving
off a bass note, while the two shorter drones were tenors.
They were all rather round and slender cylinders.  The tenor
drones were divided into two sections, and the bass into
three.  Where they joined together, the cylinder was widened
so they could be tuned.
     Then came the chanter.  This was the part where the
p'iobaire fingered the tune.  The chanter itself was long
and conical, with eight holes, seven on the top for the
fingers, and one on the underside for the left thumb.  There
was also a chanter for practicing, which was much easier to
play, but Jolly didn't want to concern himself with that
part just yet.  He was more concerned with the p'iob itself.
     "Pipes might work, if you just customize the size," he
muttered to himself in his spare time.  "But the chanter
might be a little harder.  I know there are other musicians
in the fleet.  Maybe I can pay them a visit and see how
they're making new instruments."
     But how could get the time to collect all the parts to
send them to P\adraig?  He had checked the patrol schedule
that Captain Apollo had posted, and he saw that he was in
for at least three deep probes in as many cycles, followed
by a cycle off, then another round of patrols.  He wondered
if he could get someone to replace him.
     All of his musings were making him hungry, so he went
to the eatery to get some food, which was where he ran into
Starbuck.  The blond lieutenant was finishing his breakfast
with gusto as he kept on glancing at his chronometer.  Jolly
sat across from him as Starbuck paused to speak.
     "G'morning, Jolly," he said, grinning before taking
another mouthful.  "Are you going to the Triad game today?"
     "Which game?  I didn't think any of the warriors had
clearance to go over to the _Rising Star_ for furlons right
now."
     "Not on the Star.  It's kind of... personal.  It's
right here on the _Galactica_."  He grinned again.  "It's
between us and Council security."
     "Really?  I hope we wipe the floor with them."  Jolly
liked Council security as much as the next warrior, about as
much as he liked flying blind in his Viper with both hands
tied behind his back.  He'd heard other warriors make more
obscene comparisons, but he didn't like repeating them.
"What brought it on?"
     "Oh, the usual.  Insults, whatever.  Apollo nearly blew
his top, but Boomer calmed him down and suggested a nice
Triad game in retribution.  It's them against Reese and some
dolt named Tannen.  I'd be playing with Apollo, but I'm
stuck with shuttling some supplies from the foundry ship
back to the _Galactica_.  Sheba's collecting the bets, if
you're interested.  I've placed a secton's pay on our guys."
     "Have you seen Reese and this Tannen in action?" Jolly
wondered.
     "Yep."  Starbuck smiled smugly, then looked slightly
guilty.  "Let's just say that the odds aren't in Apollo and
Boomer's favor, but if they win, I'll be making a pretty
cubit."
     "I'll drop in if I have the time."  He watched as
Starbuck quickly finished his food, then frowned as he
remembered what Starbuck had said a few centons ago.  "What
kind of supplies are you shuttling, again?"
     "Um, probably some kind of plumbing supplies.
Apparently the civilian quarters in the lower decks need
some kind of repairs, and plumbing is where they're having
the most problems."
     Jolly jumped at Starbuck's words.  "Plumbing?  As in
pipes?"
     "Probably."
     `Finally!' he thought, grinning widely.  `Now, if I can
get my hands on some!'
     "Starbuck, do you think you could manage to get me four
pipes?  Not too big, maybe about yay-big."  He held his
hands about half a metron apart.  "Please?"
     "What would you want to do with pipes?" Starbuck
demanded, giving Jolly an odd look.
     "I'm trying to do a project, and, well, I need some
pipes.  So what do you say?"
     Glancing at his chronometer, Starbuck finally nodded.
"Okay, I'll see what the old master can pull off.  But I'd
better get going now, or the Colonel's going to have my
hide!"
     He pushed the tray to the side, gave Jolly a wave, then
left the eatery in a hurry.  Jolly watched him go, then sat
back, smiling to himself.  `One down, thanks to Starbuck.'
     To Jolly, that was sort of ironic.  When Jolly had
first arrived on the _Galactica_ as a young pilot, fresh
from his previous duty, the first person to befriend him was
the young Ensign Starbuck.  He appreciated the action,
especially after he been told that commissioned officers
rarely gave non-commissioned officer a second glance.  But
it really was there that the problems began.
     Surrounded by people whose names were generally the
accepted Caprican norm, like Tigh, Boomer, Giles, Adama, and
even the slightly odd Starbuck, his given name of Cailean
was often difficult for people to pronounce.  He remembered
when he had first met Commander Adama, a moment which would
stand out in his mind forever.  The commander, whose hair
had been then losing its last streaks of dark brown, had
frowned at the name with too many vowels surrounded by
inconspicuous consonants, and tried to pronounce it.  "Kay-
ee-lee-ne?"
     "Uh, no, sir.  It's pronounced `Caw-lin,'" he replied,
and the commander had simply nodded, but promptly forgotten.
That night on Beta Deck, after Blue Squadron's curfew had
been called by the old flight commander who Apollo would
replace a yahren or two later, Starbuck and Boomer had tried
to come up with a shorter nickname for Jolly.
     "I'm often called `Bucko,'" Starbuck told him, "and
Boomer's affectionately known as `Boom.'  Sometimes even
`Boom-Boom.'"
     "No, I'm not," Boomer replied, giving the blond ensign
a very dirty look.  "Besides, we're not talking about us.
We're talking about this poor guy."
     "Collie?" Starbuck suggested.  "Lin?  Linnie?"
     "No.  They sound like names for daggits."
     "Felger, why do you have such a weird name?" came the
tease.  "Oh, well.  Let's see, then.  You're always smiling.
How can you be so jolly all the time?"
     "Jolly!" Boomer exclaimed, giving the sergeant a grin.
"How about `Jolly?'"
     And the name stuck.  In later yahrens, Jolly thought
that it was humorous when Starbuck tried the same thing with
Apollo when the captain first came aboard, Apollo had
refused to be called "Appy" or "Pol," and had even
threatened Starbuck with being put on report when the
lieutenant had tried to address him as such.  As for Jolly,
although his official records still listed the name Cailean,
he became known as Jolly throughout the ship, even addressed
as such when his friends would introduce him to family and
to other friends.  Jolly didn't mind that until the one
cycle when he decided to visit one of his cousins who lived
in Caprica City.
     S\ileas was working for a merchant in the artists'
sector of the city, providing an outlet for the artwork of
the artists back in Creignish.  Jolly hadn't seen her in
yahrens, the last time was when he left home to join the
Colonial Warriors.  Back then his great-uncle had become
incensed at the youth's ideas, shouting that after millennia
of persecution, why would he want to join them?  Se\oras was
referring to the insensitive remarks of countless
governments who thought that the Keltoi should "grow up" and
join whichever millennium the speaker was referring to.
     "They think they've preserved the same traditions that
they had back on Kobol?" his uncle scoffed.  "In their
dreams!  Sure, that Koboliana stuff is similar to what their
ancestors had, but it's not like _our_ beliefs!  I can
proudly say that I can trace my ancestors back to the mother
world.  And they mock us for that?  Cailean, you want to
_join_ these people?  Are you out of your _mind_?"
     There had been a few more choice words, then Se\oras
had stormed from the room, leaving Jolly, his aunt and his
cousin.  Both were silent for a few microns, then Br�dg�d
quietly told him to pack his bags and leave the house as
quickly as he could.
     `At least _she_ understood why,' Jolly thought as he
found himself unable to finish the rest of his breakfast.
`Or did she?'
     Being an orphan had left him with an awareness that he
knew no one else shared, even his friends who were orphans
themselves.  The Cylons didn't care if their victim was a
Keltoi, or a Kobolian, or even a member of one of those
strange religions that he's heard about that existed on the
other Colonies.  His own parents had been killed by the
Cylons, alongside the other non-Keltoi Umbrans.  All the
Cylons cared about was that they were human, and that, to
Jolly, was unacceptable.
     But upon visiting his cousin yahrens later after
completely adjusting himself to life aboard the _Galactica_,
Jolly was in for a rude surprise.  S\ileas, knowing the rift
between Jolly and his great-uncle, tried to mend their
relationship by inviting Se\oras to visit at the same time
as Jolly.  The first few cycles went by smoothly, even to
the point of Se\oras asking Jolly about whether or not he
would be starting to play his p'iob again.  "You were such a
good p'iobaire when you were younger, Cailean.  It's such a
shame you don't play anymore," he would chide.  "It's
sitting in your room at home, where you left it, just in
case you ever want to come get it."
     Then the comline had rung, and since S\ileas was out
doing some conferences, Se\oras was the one who answered.
     "Hallo?" he asked in Colonial Standard, his thick
accent making some of his words difficult to understand.
     "_Hi, is Jolly there?_" greeted Starbuck's voice.
     Se\oras nearly choked.  "There's na Jolly here, lad."
     "_Is this the residence of a woman named S\ileas?  He
told me that he would be there.  Jolly, big guy?  Colonial
Warrior?_"
     "Um, Uncle, it's for me," Jolly said in Keltoi.
     "Jolly?  That isn't your name," the old man had
insisted in their language, moving away from the comline.
"Cailean is your name."
     "We'll discuss this when I'm finished, Uncle," he shot
back, feeling the looming tension filling the room, then
switched to Colonial Standard, using a lighter tone.  "Hi,
Starbuck.  What's up?"
     "_Apollo, Boomer and I thought it would be fun to go
exploring in the southern continent.  It's all Apollo's been
able to talk about for the past two centars, even since he
saw an advertisement about it at his parents' place.  Wanna
come?_"  Starbuck grinned.  The southern continent was the
last truly wild part of the highly industrialized Caprica.
"_Just pack a few things, and we'll pick you up in about a
centar.  If you don't have everything you need, we'll bring
some stuff for you.  Sound good?_"
     "Uh, it sounds great.  See you in a few, Bucko."  He
reached out to deactivate the comline, feeling his uncle's
angry gaze on his back.  Very slowly, he turned to look at
Se\oras.  "Is there a problem?"
     "`Jolly?'" Se\oras repeated, angrily.  "Isn't it enough
that you join their military?  Do you have to give up your
name, as well?"
     "Look, Uncle, it's not what you think.  Half of the
guys have nicknames in my squadron, and that's what they
call me."
     "Nickname?  What's wrong with the name your parents
gave you?  For crying out loud, it's the only thing that you
have left from them!  Can't you honor their memory by making
those people call you by your real name?" Se\oras demanded.
"And you call those real names?  Starbuck?  What kind of
name is that?  Boomer?  It sounds like some kind of noise
maker.  At least Apollo sounds like a real name!  I used to
know someone named P\ol when I was your age, and he was
probably two times -- or more -- the man this friend of
yours is."
     "Uncle!  You don't know them, they're --"
     "Just like the others, Cailean.  They're all the same.
Did they bother to even learn your name before you were
given that ridiculous nickname?  At least they could call
you something that _resembles_ your real one!  Your name
means `child,' not ridiculously happy!" Se\oras's eyes
narrowed at his nephew.  "Tell me, what ranks are they?
Lieutenants?  Maybe even captains?  Oh, I know all about the
military, Cailean.  How long have you been a flight
sergeant?  Almost, what, four yahrens?  Oh, yes, I've read
all the correspondance you sent to your aunt.  When you were
accepted into the service, did you go the Academy right
away?  No, you didn't, did you?  Why?"
     Jolly's face flamed.  "They told me that my marks just
missed the cutoff, and that they were too full that yahren
to put anyone on the waiting list into the Academy."
     "Do you really believe that?"
     "Well, yes and no..."  Jolly clenched his fists, not
really wanting to hear what Se\oras had to say.
     "Tell me, how did your friends get in?"
     "Boomer's family paid his way, and his marks were in
the higher percentile.  Starbuck won a scholarship that had
been set up for the war orphans and --"
     "Scholarship?" Se\oras repeated.  "Did you apply for
that scholarship, Cailean?"
     "I didn't know about it."
     "I see.  And that last one?  The one with the decent
name?"
     "Apollo's family has been in the service for
generations, and his marks were pretty high, too."
     "Nepotism.  How long did it take you to become what you
wanted to be?  A pilot?  You became a pilot after a few
yahrens of being in the ground troops, correct?"
     "I was enlisted, yes.  But, Uncle, no matter what you
think, these people are different.  They care about me!"
     "Do they?"
     "I don't have to stand here and listen to this!" Jolly
finally shouted.  "Yes, I'm Keltoi, and I'm a warrior, too!
You're just jealous!"
     "No, I'm not.  I'm just regreting that you're making
the mistake that many of our people have over the yahrens."
Se\oras started to walk towards the sitting area.  "If you
leave with your friends, don't come back.  Go with them and
their ways.  Obviously, your people mean nothing to you."
     Gritting his teeth, Jolly went to the guest room where
his clothes were, gathering them all up into his duffle bag.
Even though most of his outfits were unsuitable for
exploring, he'd bring them anyway.  At least his boots were
sturdy enough for hiking.
     When Apollo came to the door of S\ileas' small house,
Jolly was all packed and ready to go.  The captain looked at
Jolly's large bag strangely.  "You're bringing that whole
thing?"
     "Yup."
     "Maybe we can drop some of that off at my parents'
place," Apollo mused, then motioned for him to come.  "Let's
go, Jolly.  Boomer and Starbuck are waiting for us."
     "_Cailean!_" Se\oras shouted from the other room.
"_Seo Cailean!_"
     "What did he say?" Apollo asked, frowning.
     "Nothing.  He didn't say anything important," Jolly
replied quickly, pushing Apollo out of the doorway, then
turned back to shout at his uncle.  "_Ar sin leat an
dr\asda, a bhr…thair athar!_"
     Se\oras didn't respond to his farewell, and Jolly left
the house, his heart heavy.  He tried to forget his feelings
as he and his friends had fun exploring the southern
continent, especially when Starbuck got into some trouble
with the locals.  Still, when they were sleeping around the
campfire and Jolly was the only one awake, he would promise
to himself that he would return and make amends with the old
man.
     But that cycle never arrived.  The Cylon attacks picked
up, and before long, the Fifth Fleet was destroyed, and the
_Galactica_ was on nearly constant alert.  His first glimmer
of hope arrived when the Armistice talks were announced, and
he immediately called up his boyhood friends.  As soon as
they were official, Jolly considered resigning from the
service to work in Creignish, or to do some performing that
might bring some attention to the Keltoi situation.  He
tried to picture what the reaction would be from his family,
especially Se\oras.  Then the Annihilation occured,
shattering his dreams, and although Jolly did return to
Creignish for a few centons to search for survivors, none
were to be found.
     "Jolly?"  A voice interrupted his reminisings, and he
found Sheba standing across from him, almost where Starbuck
had been who knew how many centons earlier.  "Are you all
right?"
     "I'm fine, thanks for asking, Sheba."
     "Good.  Look, I really hate to ask this, but since
Starbuck basically tricked me into taking this job..."  She
sighed.  "Are you going to be placing a bet on the Triad
game?  In Starbuck's words, `It's a matter of honour.'"
     "Yes, so I heard.  Well, I guess that Apollo and Boomer
are going to need all the help them can get."  Jolly
grinned.  "Put me on for ten cubits.  That's all I can
afford right now, and my cubits are all down on Beta Deck."
     "Safe spot," Sheba replied as she wrote down his bet on
the pad that she was carrying.  "Just don't let Starbuck
know where it is.  You know what happened to Apollo and all
his cubits, right?"
     "It's fortunate the man still has some money."
     "Exactly!" she laughed, looking up from her pad.
     "Are you going to eat something?" he asked, then
noticed something else that she was carrying.  "What's
that?"
     "This?"  She held it out to Jolly.  "It's a bag I got
to put the bets together.  Handmade on one of the civilian
ships."
     He held it in his hands and examined the bag, which
appeared to be made from synthetic fibers.  The seam
appeared to be fairly tight, and for a few microns, Jolly
wondered if it could be made to be water- and airtight.
Just get the right stuff, and we should be fine.
     "Which ship was this made on?" he asked, still
examining the bag.  "And do you know if they make custom-
designed ones?"
     "I don't the answer to either question," Sheba
confessed.  "Brie knows the people, so it would be better to
ask her.  Why do you ask?"
     "I need a bag in a certain shape," he explained.  "It's
for a project I want to work on."
     "A project?" Sheba repeated, then shook her head.
"Sounds interesting.  Anyway, I can't stay to eat, because
I've a few more bets to pick up.  Uh, Jolly, could I please
have my bag back?"
     "Oh, sure.  Sorry."  He handed it back.  "See you
later."
     As he watched her leave, Jolly pulled out the piece of
paper, staring at it.  He'd sketched out the design of the
p'iob several times, and now he took out the small pencil
that had been in his locker for who knew how many yahrens,
and made the lines of the p'iob darker, especially in the
areas where he knew he had the supplies.  Finished with his
scribbles, he sat back and stared at it, thinking
triumphantly, `Just about there...'

     Caprica the Brave, Part III -- The Jolly Beggarman

     "Are you sure that it's all right for us to go over to
the _Rising Star_?" Jolly wondered, not for the first time,
as he and Brie shuttled over to the leisure ship a centar or
two later.  "We're on alert, anyway."
     "You're not on deep probe until later this evening,
right?" Brie asked, as the shuttle started making its final
approach.  "So you're safe, as long as you have a good rest
before then.  As for me, I have to pick up some of the
Councilors for a meeting with Adama.  I need a copilot, too,
and you just happened to be drafted for the duty."
     "As long as you're sure."  Jolly sighed.  "When are the
Councilors due on the _Galactica_?"
     "In a centar, so we'll make the visit short with my
friends."
     "How'd you meet them?"
     "I met them yahrens ago when I was just shuttling from
colony to colony.  Very nice people, and they're very
reasonable.  I'm sure they'll take your request without any
problems."
     "Are you sure about that part?" he asked, feeling
slightly nervous
     "Yes, I'm sure," she said.  "You'll see."
     He ceased asking questions until they were headed to
the Astral Lounge.  It wasn't as filled as it had been two
cycles later when he had fled Scharel Crawe's performance,
but it was still busy.  Brie brought him over to a table in
the far corner where a couple was sitting.  The woman
appeared to be slightly older than the man, but their
similar features and identical shade of blond hair told him
that they were related.
     "Brie!" the woman exclaimed, standing so she could hug
the pilot.  "You look well!  How did your friend like the
bag?"
     "She really likes it," Brie told her, smiling as they
all sat down.  "In fact, I've got a new customer for you!"
     "That's great!" the man said, looking at Jolly.  "Hi,
there.  I'm Yosu, and this is my cousin, Zoffi."
     "Jolly," he replied automatically, and wondered for a
micron what the reaction would have been from Brie if he had
used his real name.  He'd have to think about that later,
though.  "Brie tells me that you two can make custom-made
bags."
     "That's right," Zoffi said, smiling at him.  "If we had
a motto, it would be, `Any size, any bag!'"
     "Good."  He handed the couple two pieces of paper.  "I
need to it to look more or less like this.  The measurements
are next to it."
     "All right...."  Yosu stared at the drawing that Jolly
had made, then laughed.  The bag wasn't quite the shape of a
normal bag, since it was much larger at the rear than at the
front, where it tapered off to a blunt end.  "It looks like
a dead and plucked dindon!"
     "It gives that impression, doesn't it?" Jolly laughed,
remembering when his teacher had first shown him the bag by
itself while preparing it for the process that would make
the hide airtight, and how it looked so naked in M\icheal's
hands.
     "This isn't a normal bag," Zoffi said, taking the
sketch from her cousin and examining it.  "What's it for?"
     "A project I've started for a musical instrument," he
said, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from Brie.
He waited for the couple to say something, then decided to
continue on his own as he indicated parts of the bag.  "I'll
need five openings, as I've drawn there.  I'll be attaching
parts to the holes later.  When blown up, the bag should be
--"
     "Blown up?" Yosu repeated, his eyes wide.  "How are you
going to get that thing blown up?"
     "Um, we have ways to make it airtight.  We use the bag
so that the airflow through the instrument is constant, and
so the musician can take a breath without the tune being
interrupted."  Jolly paused, trying to remember what he was
saying before he was interrupted.  "So when it's completely
blown up, it should be able to fit underneath the left arm
without causing any discomfort."
     "We see."  The couple looked at each other, then at the
diagrams, which made Jolly slightly nervous.
     "Can you do it?"
     "I'll tell you what," Zoffi told him, her voice
carrying a professional tone.  "We'll make two for you, one
as a prototype to make sure that the bag fits properly, and
a final one for your instrument.  This would be for the same
price as a regular bag, and if this project of yours takes
off, would you be kind enough to acknowledge our
contribution?"
     "Of course.  When do you think you would be finished?"
     "Two cycles should do it, I'm sure.  I'll let you know
for certain."  Zoffi extended her hand.  "Is it a deal?"
     "Deal."  They shook, then Jolly looked at Brie.  "How
long do we have until the Council needs to be picked up?"
     "Thirty centons."
     "Want a drink?  It's the least I can do for you
bringing me over here," he told her, and was happy when she
nodded.  Smiling, he turned to the couple.  "Would you like
something?"
     "No, thank you," Yosu replied, smiling politely.
"We've got a few more things to do here before our shuttle
leaves, so we'd better leave now.  We'll contact you through
Brie, though.  Until then."
     Both Jolly and Brie waved farewell, then she turned to
him with a smile on her face.  "I didn't know you were a
musician!"
     "I haven't played in a long time, but I got the urge to
pick up the hobby again."
     "And you have to make your own instrument from
_scratch_?"
     He nodded.  "More or less.  The p'iob wasn't exactly,
shall we say, a mainstream instrument."
     "What's a `p'iob', Jolly?" she asked, raising an
eyebrow.
     "It's an ancient bagged instrument that's been passed
down from generation to generation of my people."  He
stopped, not seeing any recognition in her eyes.  "Which
colony are you from?"
     "Scorpia."
     Jolly nodded.  Whatever Keltoi that had colonized that
planet back during the Kobolian exodus had long since
vanished, along with their p'iobs.  He remembered hearing
about their fates as a child while his uncle would lecture
on the importance of preserving traditions.  If he
remembered the details correctly, the Scorpian Keltoi had
been absorbed into the Kobolian majority, losing first their
religion, then their traditions, and finally their language
until they were indistinguishable from the others except for
a slight accent.
     He remembered how hard it had been for him to lose his
accent.  The first time he tried to speak Caprican, he had a
very harsh accent which didn't sound right next to the
voices on the broadcasts of the Caprican network that he saw
at the instructional periods.  Feeling slightly ashamed, he
would practice speaking without an accent when he was
supposed to be sleeping at night, trying to smooth out his
consonants and to flatten out his vowels.  His friends
thought it was a gag when he would talk around them,
imitating him, but they didn't understand why he was trying.
     Raonaid asked him once.  They were fifteen, and walking
down the side of a stream that led away from Creignish.  She
was talking about her plans to become a social worker,
though he was pretty sure that at the time that she didn't
know she would be working in slums.
     "I saw a program on the Caprican network," she was
saying.  "Did you know that there are orphans in many of the
major cities, even the capitol, who don't have _anyone_ or
_any_ kind of help!  Can you believe it?  I don't think
that's right."
     He agreed with her, and told his friend so.  "I think
we need to get rid of the problem itself."
     "Oh?  How do you plan to do that?" she asked, half
teasing, half serious.
     "We get rid of the Cylons.  They're the ones who made
all of us orphans, Raonaid, and they'll continue to make
orphans until they're stopped."
     "You sound like a politician, Cailean," she teased.
"So, what's your mighty plan?"
     "I know what I'm personally going to do.  I'm going to
blow them out of the skies.  Raonaid, I'm joining the
Colonial Warriors."
     The amused smile on her face faded as she stared at
him.  "Cailean... have you told your uncle?  He has such big
plans for you."
     "Like what?" he snorted.  "I can't think of anything
more important than I want to do."
     "Hmm."  She crossed her arms, looking away.  "What
about your accent?  That's going to be a problem.  Probably
for me, too."
     "What accent?" he asked, switching to Caprican.  Her
surprised expression delighted him, telling him that she
couldn't detect one ounce of an accent.  "All I have to do
is learn Colonial Standard, which shouldn't be hard, and
then I'm off.  And if I can do it, Raonaid, so can you."
     She frowned.  "Your uncle won't be happy."
     "He's never happy."
     "No, I mean _really_ not happy."  Raonaid sighed,
looking away from him.  "Want to hear a joke?"
     "Sure."
     "There was once a young man in a Keltoi village on
another colony.  Let's say it was Sagitara, okay?  Anyway,
it was common for the young people to leave their village
because all the jobs were in the bigger cities.  Well, this
particular young man decided to completely give up his
heritage, and adopted the Sagitarian culture.  Still, he
decides to return home after making his success, and he's in
the main store where the old men gather to talk.  They ask
him a few questions in Keltoi, and he responds in
Sagitarian.  This goes on for a few centons until one of the
old men asks, `Why don't you speak Keltoi anymore, boy?'  He
answers, `I understand it, but I don't speak it.'  `Ah,'
says the old man, `I've a daggit that does that, too.'"
     Jolly chuckled.  "That's good one."
     Her smile was sly.   "Don't let it happen to you,
Cailean."
     "Jolly?" Brie asked, shaking his arm.  "You okay?"
     "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just thinking."  He smiled.  "Still
interested in that drink?"
     "I don't trust you with drinks," she teased.  "I'll go
get the fruit juice."
     He made a face as she left the table, then noticed
movement up on the stage.  It had been empty while he and
Brie were talking to the bag-makers, but now stage crew were
moving chairs and what appeared to be music stands  into a
semi-circular position.  When they were finished, five
people, dressed in black, appeared from the stage entrance,
carrying instruments to their seats.
     "What's this?" Brie asked, coming back and handing
Jolly a mug.
     "I don't know.  Looks interesting."
     Once the musicians were settled, they began to play a
soft and -- to Jolly at least -- sedentary tune that was
carried by the more delicate sounding instruments, backed by
an uncomplicated accompaniment by the deeper ones.  All the
while, one musician was sitting quietly, and Jolly could
tell that she was counting the measures until when she would
enter the piece.
     "Wish they had this during the regular furlons," Brie
complained, a pleased expression on her face.  "I like this
stuff much better than the Green Cycle felger."
     "You and me, both," Jolly muttered.  This music was
pleasing enough, but he knew that he would get tired of it
soon enough.  "I bet you that they're just playing it for
the richer people in the fleet who come over when us
warriors aren't over here.  We get the cheap stuff."
     "Probably.  I think that --"
     Brie's comment was interrupted when the last musician
entered the piece, the sound of her instrument carrying over
the others and over the conversations, forcing people to pay
attention to them.  As he listened, Jolly felt his heart
jump into his throat.  He knew that sound, didn't he?
     "What is that?" Brie asked, her forehead wrinkled
slightly as she frowned, trying to recognize the instrument.
     "It sounds like a p'iob," Jolly said, leaning his
elbows on the table so he could lean forward and see the
instrument better.  It was long, reeded, and had the loud
noise that reminded Jolly of his instrument, but...  "But it
doesn't have a bag!"
     "Don't shout," she hissed, putting her hand on his arm.
"Just calm down, and when they're done their piece, we'll go
talk to them, okay?"
     He nodded, fidgeting furiously as they went through the
different movements of their piece, which lasted ten
centons.  Finally, when he thought he wouldn't be able to
stand it anymore, they finished.  The audience applauded,
and the musicians rose to take a bow.  When they settled
back in their seats, the woman with the p'iob-ish instrument
spoke.
     "We're going to take a few centons' break, and we'll
continue our concert then.  Thank you!"
     Before she could leave the stage, Jolly and Brie walked
quickly over to her.  The woman looked up, surprised, as she
eyed them.  "Can I help you warriors?"
     "Uh, yes, I guess you could," Jolly stuttered.  "My
name's Jolly, and this is my friend, Brie.  We have a few
questions about your instrument.  Or at least I do, anyway."
     She smiled, holding up her instrument.  From this
distance, Jolly could see that it only resembled the chanter
at the end of the p'iob.  `Still, he thought, remembered the
concert, `it sounds at least _similar_ to the chanter.'
     "Well, then," the woman said.  "My name is Fariha.  My
instrument is called a hautbois.  In other circles, it goes
by the name of `oboe.'"
     "Hautbois," Brie repeated.  "It has a beautiful sound."
     "Doesn't it?"
     "And that's what I'm wondering about," Jolly cut in.
"Was your instrument made back in the Colonies, or did you
make it here in the fleet?"
     Fariha laughed.  "This?  This is a real instrument that
was commissioned for the department of musicology at the
Caprican University.  The instruments that you see in this
ensemble were all saved during the Destruction, at great
personal risk.  Of course, we want the young people to be
able to treasure these instruments yahrens after we are too
old to play them, and that's why we have a man on the
foundry ship who, besides his normal duties, has the special
function of building copies of these instruments so children
and other adults can learn if they wish."
     Jolly's jaw dropped in astonishment.  "You're kidding
me!"
     "No, I'm quite serious, I assure you," she told him,
smiling.  "Is that such a surprise to you?"
     "Yes," Brie said, giving Jolly a worried look.
     "What's the name of this fellow?" Jolly asked, feeling
a little lightheaded at the revelation.
     "Srijan."  Fariha raised an eyebrow.  "Why?  Are either
of you interested in learning one of our instruments?"
     "Not quite," Jolly said, grinning as he grabbed Brie's
sleeve.  "But close.  Thank you for the information, Fariha.
I hope the rest of your performance goes well.  We'll see
you around!  Come on, Brie, the Council's probably waiting
for us, ready to take off our heads."
     They hurried out of the lounge and to the lift that
would take them down to the _Rising Star_'s bays.  As they
waited for the lift, Jolly found himself pacing, much to
Brie's amusement, he was certain.  He saw her large smile,
but he ignored it.  Instead, he concentrated on his excited
thoughts.
     `This is too good to be true!  I'm getting bags, pipes,
maybe even a chanter!'  He grinned as the doors to the lift
opened.  `I'm going to call P\adraig as soon as I get back
to the _Galactica_!'
     To his disappointment, only a few of the Councilors
they were supposed to bring to the battlestar were waiting
for them in the bay.  Brie escorted Siress Tinia and the
other two Councilors as Jolly ran through the pre-launch
check, as well as keeping an eye out for Sires Montrose,
Dombra and Geller.  Jolly thought it was odd that Montrose,
a usually punctual older man who had returned to politics a
few sectars earlier after an illness forced him to resign
almost immediately after the so-called Iblis incident.
     By the time the three tardy Councilors arrived, arguing
amongst themselves about some trivial matter, the shuttle
was ready to go.  As soon as everyone was sitting in their
seats, Brie received permission to launch.  Very little was
said on the way back, which suited Jolly just fine.  When
they landed, he said a quick good luck to Brie, knowing that
she would have to escort the half dozen Councilors to
Adama's quarters, then left the bay.
     He intended to go to the communications center where he
could call P\adraig, but a disturbance at the opposite end
of the hallway distracted him.  There, he saw Boomer, Apollo
and Sheba.  The men were still in their Triad uniforms,
which struck Jolly as strange, since the _Galactica_'s Triad
court was several decks below their current location.
     "The daggit!" Apollo was seething, loud enough to be
heard several metrons away, and as Jolly approached, he saw
that he was being supported by the others.  "I can't believe
he _did_ that!"
     "What happened?" Jolly asked, taking in the scene.
"How did the game go?"  Both Sheba and Boomer shot him a
warning look as Jolly noticed that Apollo wasn't putting any
weight on his left leg.  "Not good?"
     "`Not good'?" repeated Apollo.  "Isn't _that_ the
understatement of the yahren!  We're at a draw, that's what!
Reese and that moronic Tannen cheated!"
     "Reese tackled Apollo after he made a goal," Boomer
explained, his voice much calmer than Apollo's.  "It was an
illegal move that would have been caught by an officiator,
but we weren't using one, so..."
     "I see."
     "No, you don't," Apollo snorted, then winced as he
accidentally put weight on his leg.  "You didn't see what
angle Reese tackled me from!"
     "It looks like Apollo's twisted his knee," Sheba said,
then in an authoritative tone ordered, "Come on, Captain.
Let's get your wounded knee and ego to the life station."
     "So the game's at a draw?" Jolly asked as he followed
them.
     "At least until Apollo's knee is healed, it is," Boomer
told him.
     "Then I'm going to --  Ow!"  Apollo yelped as Sheba
seemingly accidentally bumped his knee with her boot.
"Thanks a lot, Sheba."
     She flashed him a grin full of mirth, then sighed.
"The only thing I'm worried about is that this is the
provocation that Reese has just been waiting for to make our
lives horrible."
     "You mean he needed a reason before?"
     "No, but that never stopped him."
     They walked in silence -- or limped, in Apollo's case -
- for a few more centons before Jolly decided to break the
silence.  "Uh, Apollo, do you think it's possible for me to
get a replacement for my patrols in the next few cycles?"
     Apollo glanced back at him.  "Why?"
     "Well, I've been working on a project, and it's almost
near completion.  I thought that it would be a good idea if
I took a few cycles off then."
     "I don't see why not.  I'll arrange it as soon as I get
out of the Life Center, all right?"
     As they approached the life station, Starbuck came upon
them, looking very concerned.  He looked at Boomer, then at
Apollo, then made an exaggerated frown that made Sheba
smirk.
     "What happened?" he demanded, placing his hands on his
hips.  "I leave this frakking battlestar for a few centars,
and what happens?  You two blow the most important game this
crew has ever seen!"
     "Stow it, Starbuck," Apollo replied, his voice showing
that he did not want to argue about it anymore.  "We didn't
blow it, it's only on hold."
     "Besides, who'd guess that they'd cheat?" added Boomer.
     "What about the bets?"
     "Is that all you can think about?" Sheba asked.  "Look,
can we at least get Captain Ego inside?"
     Apollo gave her a dirty look, to which she smiled
innocently.  Starbuck nodded reluctantly as the group of
five entered the Life Center.  Sheba and Boomer steered
Apollo towards one of the examining tables as Jolly held
Starbuck back.
     "How did the supply run go?"
     "Fine, fine."  He grinned.  "You're now the proud owner
of four pipes.  Your crewchief, Will, has them stored for
you.  I managed to sweet-talk a very pretty technician into
giving them to me."
     "Cass'll hear you," Jolly told him, swatting him on the
arm.
     "Not _that_ kind of sweet-talk, you astrum.  I arranged
it so that her kids get a few extra rations."
     "That's great," he said, then grinned.  "Thanks,
Starbuck.  You have no idea how much I appreciate this.  If
there's any way I can repay you..."
     "Actually, there is.  When this project is done, I want
to see it."
     Jolly laughed.  "Deal."
     "Now I have to go figure how to do damage control on
this situation.  Kobol help us, that Reese and Tannen is
going to make life difficult for us."  Starbuck sighed.  "I
should have played the game instead of Boomer."
     "No, you couldn't.  I didn't see the game, but I'm sure
they were doing just fine before Reese cheated.  Besides,"
Jolly's grin got a little wider, "I think I just might have
a plan that could make us win.  Come on, I'll tell you guys
about it."

     Caprica the Brave, Part IV -- When the Battle's O'er

     The first thing that Jolly saw as he exited his shuttle
in the _Epona_'s landing bay was P\adraig's smiling face.
The old man laughed as he saw the supplies that Jolly was
carrying in his hands.
     "_Hallo, a Jholly!_" he greeted, then, as he spotted
what the warrior was carrying, quickly exclaimed, "Oh, my!
Let me help you with that!"
     "_Tapadh leibh ,_" Jolly thanked in G…idhlig, one of
the few phrases he remembered, as he handed him the two bags
that Yosu and Zoffi had beautifully crafted.  P\adraig's
face lit up with happiness.  "What're you smiling at?"
     "To tell you the truth, Jolly, I never sincerely
thought that you'd be able to find all this.  I thought that
I would go to my grave, taking everything I know about
p'iobs with me." P\adraigmotioned for Jolly to follow him.
"This is a very special day, and I want to get this started
as soon as possible!"
     To Jolly's amusement, he found it slightly difficult to
follow the old man through the decks of the _Epona_.
Everyone they passed on the crowded freighter smiled and
waved at P\adraig as they went, as though encouraging what
the two were about to accomplish.  Before long, Jolly found
himself inside a sparsely decorated but comfortable room.
     "Welcome to my home," P\adraig said as he put the bags
on a table, then straightened up as he clapped his hands
together.  "Now, you put them there, and I'll be right back.
I have something to show you!"
     Doing what the old man asked, Jolly frowned as he
wondered what P\adraig had up his sleeve.  When he returned
a few microns later, he was holding a little sack in his
hands, and without any ceremony, gave it to Jolly.
     "What is it?"
     "Open it.  Do I look like I'm going to tell you?"
P\adraig grinned.  "Go on!"
     Untying the strings at the top, Jolly turned it upside
down so the contents would spill out in his hand.  To his
amazement, what greeted him were two chanter reeds and three
drones reeds.  He looked up in shock to see P\adraig's broad
grin.
     "Where did you get these?" he asked
     "I made them.  Since you went to all the trouble of
getting these things together, I thought I'd contribute in
some way."
     "Thank you!" Jolly exclaimed.  "And you _have_ been
contributing!  You're the one who gave the specifications
for the chanter so Srijan could make it!"
     "Ah, yes, the chanter." P\adraig's smile faded
slightly.  "I still need that.  Srijan said that it would be
completed at about this time."
     "We can get it later."  Jolly looked down at the
pieces.  Now that most the pieces were together in one
space, he felt a little apprehensive at the sight of them
for the first time.  He also started to feel doubtful that
they would be able to turn them into the instrument that
Jolly remembered from his youth.  Taking a deep breath, he
looked up at P\adraig.  "Well, where do you want to start?"
     P\adraig rubbed his hands in anticipation.  "I was
thinking about maybe with the pipes.  My son, Seumas, is one
of the few technicians aboard the _Epona_ who work with the
kind of equipment that can mold these."
      "You're the expert," Jolly told him.  "Where does he
work?"
     "In the lower decks.  There are some large work areas
there." P\adraig looked from the supplies to Jolly.  "But I
have a better idea. You go get the chanter, and meet me back
here.  All right?"
     Reluctantly, Jolly nodded.  "All right, then."
     He found his way back to the landing bay, and before
long, he was aboard the freighter _Hadrian_ where a few
deckhands directed him to the quarters of the musician.  As
he walked, he noticed that the decks of this freighter were
completely unlike that of the _Epona_.  Most of the people
he passed here avoided looking him in the eyes as much as
possible, and that made feel very uncomfortable.
     Srijan's workshop was as far away from the bays as one
could get on this ship.  When Jolly finally reached them, he
barely knocked on the door when a tall, lanky figure with
thinning hair opened it.
     "Yeah?" the man asked, looking Jolly up and down.
     "I'm here to pick up an instrument...  A man named
P\adraig ordered it."
     "You don't say. P\adraig, eh?  Well, come in, then."
He motioned for Jolly to follow him inside.  To Jolly's
amazement, the room was filled with equipment, and pieces of
various instruments, and the walls were covered with
pictures.  "I'm Srijan.  This, ah, P\adraig... is he a
friend of yours?"
     "Yes..."
     "I see.  Well, he's ordered the weirdest instrument
I've _ever_ made -- and I'm made quite a few in my nearly
fifty yahrens!" he exclaimed, heading for a table that was
covered with instruments, many of them similar to the
hautbois Jolly had seen earlier on the _Rising Star_.
"Hades, the frakking thing's not even capable of playing a
complete scale!  There's only eight notes!  And half of them
won't be perfectly in tune!"
     "That's the way it's supposed to be," Jolly replied,
taking the chanter reed out of his pocket, fingering it
anxiously as he tried to locate the chanter on the table.
"Sounds like you've got it just right."
     "Hmpf," Srijan snorted, reaching for the back and
pulled out the chanter.  Jolly took it reverently in his
hands to inspect it.  "Say, what's that thing called,
anyway?"
     "A p'iob."  Jolly turned the chanter in his hands,
seeing that everything looked to be all right.  "Do you mind
if I try it?"
     "Sure.  I'd give you a reed to use, but I don't think I
have anything strong enough for that... that...  You called
it a p'iob?"
     "Yes."  Jolly wet the tip of the reed in his mouth,
making sure that it was properly damp, then put it in the
top of the chanter.  Seeing that it was straight, he took a
deep breath and blew into it.  It took a micron for him to
get the proper pressure, but when the note came out, it
reverberated around the room, and Srijan jumped back a
metron in surprise.  Trying not to laugh, Jolly tried to
play a simple tune, something from his childhood, but his
fingers were so unused to the intricate fingerings that they
continually tripped over themselves.  Still, it sounded just
the way he remembered.  "That's perfect!"
     "That's _loud_, you mean," Srijan said, looking
unsteady.  "What kind of instrument _is_ that?"
     "Well, it's supposed to be played outdoors, but it's
not usually that loud.  This sound this part makes is sort
of softened by the harmony the three drones make."  Jolly
smiled.  "Thanks, Srijan.  What do P\adraig and I owe you?"
     "Tell your friend that I'll contact him about the
price."  Srijan gave a wan smile.  "Now get that thing out
of here before you start playing again!"
     Giving Jolly a plush bag to put the chanter in, Srijan
hurried him out of the room.  A little insulted at the man's
reaction, Jolly walked quickly to his shuttle, anxious to
get back to the _Epona_ so he and P\adraig could finish the
p'iob.  Once there, though, he was surprised to find that he
couldn't find the old man.  After wandering the decks for
ten centons, a young girl at last directed him to the
workshop of P\adraig's son.
     "Where have you been?" P\adraig demanded when Jolly
finally arrived.  The old man's face was pink with
excitement, and he brushed aside Jolly's apologies with a
grin.  "Never mind, you're here now.  How's the chanter?"
     "Fine."
     "Good!  May I see it?" P\adraig took the chanter from
Jolly and inspected it with a critical eye.  "Yes, it's very
well done, I have to admit.  I wasn't sure if someone with
Srijan's limited knowledge would be able to do something as
delicate as this.  Now, let's go try it with the rest of the
p'iob."
     Jolly felt his jaw drop.  "You're done?"
     "More or less.  My boy helped me, so we were done if
half the time." P\adraig grinned.  "You've been gone for
more than a centar, you know."
     "Show it to me, then!"
     P\adraig's son was in the other room, and to Jolly's
amusement, he found the work area much more tidy than
Srijan's had been.  Seumas was adjusting something on the
table located at the back of the room, with his back
blocking Jolly's view of the table.  With a reverential
silence, the two approached it, and Jolly found himself
holding his breath in expectation.
     There it was, looking very rough, but it was more or
less the p'iob that Jolly remembered so fondly.  The drones
weren't as beautifully sculpted as those on Caprica, but
they were basically identical.  They fitted perfectly into
the stocks which attached them to the bag.  The blowpipe was
resting at the same angle as the drones, and as Jolly
watched, P\adraig put the chanter, along with the reed, into
its own stock.
     "What do you think?" Seumas asked, a proud note in his
voice.
     "May I try it?" Jolly asked, reaching out to grasp the
largest drone, the chanter and the blowpipe in one hand.  He
smiled as P\adraig nodded, picking it up and putting the bag
underneath his left arm.  Making sure that the three drones
were resting comfortably against his shoulder, he put the
tip of the blowpipe in his mouth and the fingers of his left
hand on the top holes of the chanter.
     He blew into the blowpipe until the drones made a
slight squeal, telling him that there was enough air in the
bag for him to begin.  Taking a deep breath, he
simultaneously punched the bag lightly with his right hand
directly underneath the drones, squeezed the bag with his
elbow, and blew again.  The result was a horrendous squeal
that made all of them wince, then Jolly tried again.
     This time, there was a steady noise, slightly out of
tune.  Jolly adjusted them, then tried the chanter.  The
music that resulted brought tears to his eyes, but he
blinked them away as he slowly began to play one of the
first tunes that he had learned as a boy.  Doing so brought
back memories of his family and friends, and to his
surprise, none of them were painful.  When he came to the
last note, he let it linger for a few microns, then stopped
putting pressure on the bag.  The note continued to echo for
another micron, then Jolly put the p'iob down as he, Seumas
and P\adraig hugged each other in victory.
     "We did!" Seumas exclaimed.
     "I think this occasion deserves a drink!" P\adraig
announced.  "Who wants some _uisge beatha_?"
     Jolly's eyes widened in disbelief.  "You've got some!"
     "My father is full of surprises," Seumas grinned.  "He
has the famous Keltoi `water of life.'"
     "Well, I'm afraid that I can't take up your offer, but
I'll take a rain check.  I should be getting back to the
_Galactica_."
     "We'll save you some," P\adraig told him, smiling.  "Go
and practice.  Now that we know how to make a complete
p'iob, we'll be making many more.  Our children can now
learn the tradition like we did, back in the Colonies.
We'll be seeing you soon, right?"
     "Of course!"  Jolly shook both of their hands, and was
about to head out to the door, when he remembered something.
"Hey, by any chance, do you have any f\eileadhs?"
     "F\eileadhs?" Seumas repeated, raising an eyebrow.  The
skirt-like traditional outfit of the male Keltoi, though
many women wore them now as well, weren't as popular as they
had been in previous eras.  Not only was it protection
against the elements, but it also denoted which part of the
ancient Keltoi continent the groups of families originated
from.  "Of course!  What kind of Keltoi do you think we
are?"
     "Do you have any I could borrow?  Maybe some older
ones?"
     Seumas and P\adraig exchanged looks.  "What for?"
     Jolly grinned as he explained.  "Well, I have a little
idea for some friends of mine.  They nearly lost a Triad
game to some rivals of theirs, and they're feeling a little
dejected right now.  If they're still like that when they
play against them again, I don't think they're going to
win."
     "And you want them to wear f\eileadhs?" P\adraig asked,
chuckling as he looked as though he were beginning to
understand.  "Well, we've got some older ones you could use.
Seumas, go get them.  We've got new ones that we use for
special occasions."
     "_Tapadh leibh , a Ph\adraig _" Jolly thanked, and his
grin widened as Seumas returned with a pile of f\eileadhs.
When they were in his hands, he counted three.  "This is
wonderful!  I'd really better get going, then!"
     "Let us know how the game turned out!" Seumas called.
     "I will!" Jolly called over his shoulder as he held
onto the p'iob and the f\eileadhs, worrying about dropping
them before he could get back to the shuttle.  When he did
arrive, he gratefully secured them in the cargo hold before
going to the seat to wait for clearance.
     A few centons later, he was back aboard the
_Galactica_, surrounded by the familiar faces and activities
that he'd grown so used to.  As he walked among them with
his p'iob and the f\eileadhs, he noticed that he was getting
quite a few odd looks.  He smiled slightly as he kept on
walking.
     "Jolly!"
     He turned to see Sheba running up to him, her flight
helmet in her hands.  He grinned at her as she stopped a
metron or so in front of him.
     "Hi, Sheba!" he greeted, feeling enormously cheerful.
     "_What_ are those?" she asked, eyeing his cargo.
     "Part of the plan."  He handed her the fŠileadhs.
"Give these to Apollo, Starbuck and Boomer for me, please?"
     Sheba took the first one and unfolded it to reveal the
full width of the f\eileadh.  She studied it for a few
microns, then looked back up at Jolly.
     "I can see how they're supposed to put these on, and
I'd hate to ask a stupid question, but..."  She paused for a
micron, as though trying to choose the appropriate words.
"_What_ are they supposed to wear under these?"
     Jolly laughed.  "Anything they want!  Of course, in
Apollo and Boomer's case, I'd suggest their Triad shorts,
but Starbuck can wear anything he wants.  Anyway, let's
announce that the Triad game is going to be continued in,
say, three centars.  That is, of course, if Apollo's knee is
all right."
     "Apollo's fine!  He's just itching to get down there
and put those two daggits in their place.  Hades, _I_ can't
wait until they put them their place.  I'll go give these to
the guys right now!"
     She hurried off toward the opposite lift as Jolly
continued on his original heading to the closer lift.  He
hit the button that would take him to Beta deck, then leaned
back against the wall.  The p'iob in his arms felt slightly
unreal, he realized, as though he were in a dream from which
he would quickly wake up from empty-handed.
     The doors opened to Beta deck, but the micron Jolly
stepped out, he found himself running directly into Colonel
Tigh.  He was glowering slightly as Jolly stepped back,
feeling his happiness quickly flee.
     "Flight Sergeant!  Where have you been?" he demanded.
"I've been searching this entire battlestar for you!  The
commander wants to see you _now_ in his quarters!"
     "Yes, sir," Jolly replied.  He wanted to ask permission
to put the p'iob in the Blue Squadron barracks, but he
didn't have a chance as Tigh escorted him back to the lift.
A few centons later, they were inside Adama's quarters,
where the white-haired commander was sitting at his desk.
     "Flight Sergeant Jolly," he greeted, his voice much
less severe than the colonel's.  "It has been brought to my
attention that you have had a replacement take your last two
deep probes, and that you're scheduled to be replaced for
the next two.  I would like an explanation as to why you are
not going on patrol?"
     "Um, well, sir," he began, feeling on edge, "I've been
working on a project, and we've just completed it, sir,
ahead of schedule.  I can take those patrols back, of
course, and you can see that my project is completed."
     Adama opened his mouth to continue his berating, then
stopped as he noticed the p'iob in Jolly's arms.  "Ah, yes,
I see...  Flight Sergeant, what _is_ it?"
     Trying not to show his impatience, Jolly quickly
explained the purpose of the p'iob and its importance to his
Keltoi heritage, as well as his and P\adraig's quest to
rebuild the instrument.  As he spoke, he saw the anger in
Adama and Tigh's faces disappear to be replaced by
understanding and -- dare he say -- admiration.  No, he was
probably reading too much into their expressions.
     "Well, now," Tigh said, slowly uncrossing his arms.
"That's a different story."
     "Indeed.  Jolly," Adama began, "this is exactly what I
was meeting with the Council about a few cycles ago.  We're
trying to set up a commission that will aid in cultural
preservation, and your efforts to compile the pieces for
your, um, p'iob, is exactly the kind of example others need
to do the same."
     "Uh, thank you, sir."
     "In fact, our committee will be making a presentation
to the rest of the Council, and I would be delighted if you
and your friend could aid us in this."  Adama smiled.  "In
fact, it would probably help get the point across even
further."
     Jolly stood dumbfounded for a few microns, not sure
that he was hearing the commander correctly. The lessons
that Se\oras and the other elders in Creignish used to tell
of how the rest of Colonial society persecuted, banned, or
just plain ignored the Keltoi descendants ran through his
mind.  What would his uncle say about this recent
development?  Would Se\oras be proud of him?
     "Yes, sir.  P\adraig and I would be honored."
     "Excellent!  We'll contact you as soon as we know more.
Dismissed."
     Giving a small bow, Jolly hurried out of the
commander's quarters.  As he went, he quickly glanced at his
wrist chronometer.  He still had two and one half centars
before the Triad game resumed, and as he remembered how he'd
sounded when playing in Seumas' workshop, he decided that he
needed to go practice.  The only place he could think of
that was large and seemed to be slightly sound proof was the
Council chambers, so he headed there immediately.
     His p'iob playing abilities were slightly rusty, but as
he continued playing, everything came back to him.  He
started remembering various marches, laments, and dancing
songs.  He remembered the competitions that he had attended
as a youth, where he played against p'iobaires from the
other Keltoi communities.  He didn't often win, and his
uncle would often comment that his thoughts were more in the
skies than on his practicing.
     Feeling a little winded, he glanced at the chronometer
again.  Two centars had passed, much to his surprise, so he
ran to the eatery to grab some food, then to the Blue
Squadron bachelor barracks so he could change into his own
f\eileadh.  He stared at its pattern for a few microns,
looking at the pattern with its strong red background, then
quickly put it on, remarking on how it didn't quite fit like
it had the last time he'd worn it.  `I'll have it adjusted
later,' he decided, then quickly left for the Triad courts.
     The spectator stands were packed with warriors and
security personnel, and none of them heeded Jolly any
attention as he went to the Gold team's changing room.
Apollo and Boomer were there, decked out in their matching
f\eileadhs and their red Triad uniforms.  They were looking
at each other nervously, much to the amused delight of
Sheba.  When she wasn't laughing at them, she was exchanging
comments with Starbuck, who was wearing the third f\eileadh
along with his jacket, much the way Jolly was attired.
     "Are you guys ready?" he asked, surveying the four.
     "I don't know about this," Boomer said, looking down at
his clothes.  "I feel silly wearing a skirt."
     "You look great!" Sheba exclaimed, admiring the way the
f\eileadh showed off Apollo's legs.  "Oh, it's definitely a
step up from the normal uniforms.  It leaves more to the
imagination..."
     Apollo shot her a dirty look, then spotted the p'iob in
Jolly's arms and he laughed in delight.  "I don't believe
it, Jolly!  That's a p'iob you've got there!"
     Jolly felt his mouth fall open in shock.  "How do you
recognize it?  Your father didn't have an inkling of what it
is!"
     "I'm not surprised of that.  The only kind of music
Father's really interested in is his various operas.  That's
all he would be interested in, and it would drive my mother
crazy!"  Apollo grinned.  "Mother used to be a professor of
music history at the University of Caprica City, and she
used to play all kinds of recordings around the house when
we were kids.  The p'iob was her favorite kind of non-
contemporary music, and she even took us once to a festival
of some kind when I was about ten."
     "Oh."
     "But, Jolly, what does this p'iob thing have to do with
the game?" Starbuck asked.
     "You'll see in a centon.  Now, let me see..."  He
stepped back to examine the players.  "There's something
missing..."
     Apollo and Boomer exchanged glances, as though they
were dreading what Jolly had planned next.
     "Like what?" Boomer asked.  "Isn't wearing a skirt
enough?"
     "Back on Kobol, when my people went to war, they would
paint their faces to frighten their opponents."  Jolly
paused as he prepared to continue his lecture.  "The wars on
Kobol were more personal, warrior against warrior."  He
purposefully left out the information that the ancient
Keltoi used to go into battle naked, since he had the
feeling that Boomer might think that Jolly meant that as a
futher suggestion.  "You two are going to war against Reese
and Tannen, but instead of combat that would lead to the
death, you're playing a game of honor.  They've already had
an upper hand in undermining your confidence when Apollo was
injured.  Right now, they're convincing themselves that they
still have that advantage."
     "Well, they're not going to get it!" Apollo
interrupted, putting his hands on his hips and taking the
defensive stance that most people associated him with.
     "That's the point.  Now, let me finish," Jolly said
sharply, and was amused when his commanding officer meekly
nodded.  "Now, you guys are going to have to intimidate them
when you play.  You're going to paint your faces."
     Boomer snorted.  "Uh, no, thanks.  I can allow the
skirt, but painting my face?  I think I'll pass on that
point, Jolly."
     "Wait," Apollo protested.  "This is getting
interesting.  How are we supposed to paint our faces?"
     `Good question,' Jolly thought as he scrambled for an
answer.  The color traditionally used was blue, and he
couldn't think of anything.
     "I've got an idea!" Sheba exclaimed.  "How about this?"
     The men watched her as she fetched the first-aid kit
from the wall, and grabbed a container.  Jolly tried to see
what it was, but Starbuck provided the answer before he
could read it.
     "Sheba, no offense, but I don't think that burn
ointment is going to be necessary.  Unless you expect Reese
and Tannen to bring welders with them."
     She made a face, then squeezed a bit out into the palm
of her hand.  To Jolly's delight, it was blue.  As if to
prove her point, Sheba dabbed a bit of it onto Apollo's
nose.
     "A bit like that?" she asked.
     "That's bringing a new meaning to Blue Squadron,"
Boomer said, then sighed.  "Oh, all right, if Apollo does
it, I'll do it."
     Sheba grinned as she started to apply more to Apollo's
face, and Jolly put his p'iob down to paint Boomer's.  When
they were finished, both players had streaks of blue all
over.  Sheba had applied them so they would accent Apollo's
green eyes and the angles of his face, while Boomer's made
him look like some kind of spirit from the netherworld.
Jolly laughed at the result, then turned to Starbuck.
     "What do you think?"
     "Suitably frightening.  Are you wearing some?"
     "Of course!"
     "Wait a centon!" Apollo exclaimed, pointing at
Starbuck.  "He's not getting away from this unscathed.  If
we have to wear this gunk, so does he!  You're our moral
support, Starbuck.  Sheba, would you do the honors?"
     She grinned.  "Oh, don't tempt me."
     As she applied the ointment to the Starbuck's face,
Jolly did the same with his own.  Before long, they both had
paint covering most of their faces.  Starbuck's covered the
entire right side of his face, while the left side was
partly covered, while Jolly had diagonal stripes across his
face.
     "Do I want to see it?" Starbuck asked, making a face.
     "If you want," Jolly told him.  "You can join us in a
few centons.  Are you two ready?"
     "I think so," Boomer said, as Apollo nodded.  "We're at
war, right?"
     "Yeah.  Don't worry, you guys are ready.  Just follow
me."
     Jolly headed back towards the entrance of the Triad
court, seeing that Reese and Tannen had already entered,
cheered by their peers and booed by the warriors.  The
atmosphere was excited and tense, which Jolly knew was just
perfect.  Glancing behind him, he made sure that Boomer and
Apollo were following him -- which, thank Kobol, they were -
- as he began to get ready to make his entrance.
     "Jolly, what do we do?" Apollo hissed.
     "When I face the entrance, you two enter.  Ready?"
     Without waiting for them to respond, Jolly started up
the p'iob.  The sound of the drones filled the hallway,
seeping into the court.  He tried not to laugh as Reese and
Tannen looked about, trying to figure out what the sound
was.  Counting to three, Jolly started playing the chanter,
beginning a tune that he remembered being described as a
call to battle.  After playing through the first part, the
crowd was silent as though caught under a spell, listening
to the p'iob.
     Switching to a slightly faster tune, Jolly entered the
court.  He was aware of their surprise as he began to slowly
circle the court, not looking at the two security personnel
as he went.  He walked around three times, then, as he began
playing an even faster melody, he went to face the entrance.
     Their nervousness gone, the two pilots appeared,
standing straight and proud in the entrance.  Above them,
the warriors began to cheer and stomp their feet as Boomer
and Apollo entered the arena, and to Jolly's amusement, so
did some of the security personnel.  He continued play as
the cheering continued, then decided to stop abruptly.  No
sooner did he stop, than the cheering stopped.  In the
silence that continued for the next few microns, Jolly
glanced at Reese.  The mustachioed guard looked extremely
uneasy, which made Jolly grin widely.
     He quickly left the court as the game was about to
begin.  As he looked back, he saw Apollo and Boomer grab
onto their opponents' arms, fierce expressions on their
painted faces as they formed the circle they would try to
break when the game began.  With a sly smile to himself, he
knew that the victory that cycle would be the warriors'.

     Caprica the Brave, Part V -- A Minstrel's Salute

     To the relief of all of the warriors on the
_Galactica_, Commander Adama decided to stand down from the
alert, and granted more of the pilots furlon time on the
_Rising Star_.  Although many warriors had previously been
about the gaming ship a secton or so earlier, Jolly was
surprised to see that they were allowed to return for one
night.  And that included him.
     The fact that it was the cycle after the victorious
Triad game against the security guards made Jolly suspect
that Colonel Tigh had a hand in the matter, but he didn't
dare approach the Colonel with his suspicions, for fear of
this right being revoked.  Instead, at the request of many
warriors, he packed up his p'iob into his duffel bag, and
boarded the shuttle to the _Rising Star_.
     The victorious Triad players were already there,
enjoying the congratulations that were being given right,
left and center.  To Jolly's immense amusement, he found
that they were still wearing their f\eileadhs, this time
with their jackets.
     "Jolly!" Boomer exclaimed, jumping up from the table to
greet him.  "You made it!"
     There was only one extra seat at the table, and Jolly
quickly claimed it.  He avoided colliding elbows with Sheba
and Starbuck as he put his p'iob under the table.
     "Thanks for all your help with the Triad game, Jolly,"
Apollo said before anything else could be said.  "I _still_
don't believe we won over those two by nearly thirty
points!"
     "That's not hard to believe," Sheba told him.  "You two
looked like demons out of Hades!"
     "No, it was the whole combination," Boomer decided.
"We managed to completely unnerve them."
     "_I'm_ just happy that no one got hurt again,"
Cassiopia announced, speaking for the first time.  "I don't
see what the need is for those stupid games.  I mean, that
twisted knee of yours, Apollo, could have been a lot worse.
And what if Reese made you injure it again?"
     "It didn't happen," Starbuck said.  "They scared the
pogees out of Reese and Tannen, and that's all we're
concerned about.  Some peace and quiet at last!"
     "I don't know.  It'll be weird, not having Reese
breathing down our necks all the time."  Apollo realized
that the others were giving him strange looks, so he quickly
added, "But it'll be nice to have them at bay.  That's
true."
     "Do we get a repeat performance of your instrument,
Jolly?" Cassiopia asked.  "I missed it the first time, and
maybe a peacetime environment would be more suitable."
     Jolly gave her a grin, knowing that she didn't know the
real history of the p'iob, and how the Kobolian government
once banned the instrument as being a weapon of war, since a
group of p'iobaires often led the Keltoi armies to battle.
He would have to educate all of them eventually about the
p'iob.
     "Before the night is over, I'll play a few tunes," he
promised.
     "_Tapadh leat,_" she said, and Jolly felt his jaw drop.
How did she know how to say "thank you" in Keltoi, and
especially the familiar version of it?  Cassiopia laughed at
his confusion.  "Let's just say that I once had a client who
insisted that I learn at least a few words of Keltoi."
     "Oh."
     "What other interesting tidbits do you know?" Starbuck
asked her, astounded.
     "Too much," she grinned.
     Boomer quickly interrupted them.  "Hey, Jolly, guess
who's playing tonight."
     "I have no idea."
     "Scharel Crawe!"
     "Then that's when I'll be leaving," he announced,
grimacing.  "Just tell me when."
     "Come on, don't be so negative.  She's been getting
better lately," Boomer told him, grinning.  "I really
enjoyed her concert a secton ago, and I think you should
give her a second chance.  Come on, don't spoil our evening.
Besides, she's got a really interesting aspect to her
performance now.  She has a different theme with every
performance.  The last one was an absolutely exotic
socialator-ish outfit."
     "Don't let Dietra hear you say that!" Sheba exclaimed,
and Boomer winced as Cassiopia shot him a dirty look.
     "I didn't mean it that way!" he protested, as Starbuck
and Apollo tried to hide their amusement.  "I meant that she
had an outfit that a socialator might wear, and it was very
exotic looking."
     "And _what_ is something a socialator might wear?"
Cassiopia asked, her voice getting icy.
     "Now's a good time to take your foot out of your
mouth," Starbuck muttered.  "Or do you have room for a
second?"
     "I know," Boomer shot back.  "Kobol, I'm just glad that
Dietra's on deep probe right now.  Look, Cass, I didn't mean
it as anything malicious.  I'm sorry if I offended you."
     "Apology accepted.  I'm just a little touchy these
cycles about that part of my past."
     "Thank you."  Boomer turned to look at Jolly again, and
continued his prodding.  "So, what'll it be, Jolly?"
     "Well..."  Jolly paused, then finally nodded.  "Oh, all
right.  I'll stay."
     "Good, because, well, she'll be on in a few centons."
     Whirling around in his seat, Jolly saw the stage crew
setting up the stage in a typically Scharel Crawe-ish setup.
Dreading what was happening, Jolly almost successfully
suppressed the urge to get up and run by gripping onto the
armrests.
     "You little daggit," Jolly muttered, giving Boomer a
dirty look.
     Scharel Crawe appeared onstage a few moments later.
Instead of wearing the outrageous outfit that Boomer had
referred to earlier, she was wearing a modest outfit.  Her
face was still heavily made up, especially her lips.  The
design of her attire was somewhat familiar to Jolly, but as
she and her band started playing their set, he forgot all
about it as he tried to listen.
     The song proved to be as much of a disappointment to
Jolly as most of her other ones.  When she started singing
about "I've been swimming in a sea of anarchy/I've been
living on kafe and nicotian," he started to have enough.  To
his relief, he saw that Apollo and Cassiopia didn't seem
very impressed either, and that made him feel a little
better.
     Trying to ignore the rest of the song, Jolly started
thinking about his p'iob.  He wondered why so many warriors
had requested that he bring it with him if they'd be
listening to Scharel the entire time.  He began to agree
with what Brie had said a few cycles earlier, that the
warriors were always given the cheaper venue.
     "Jolly," Starbuck said, poking his arm.  "Wake up.  The
song's over."
     Relieved, Jolly was about to make his exit when Scharel
started speaking over the spatterings of applause.
     "Thank you, everybody," she said.  "I'm going to fill a
request for one of my fans out there.  I think he's out
there somwhere right now.  Anyway, the request is that I do
a duet of one of my favorite folk songs, with a musician
friend of his.  If Flight Sergeant Jolly is out there,
please come up to the stage!"
     Apollo, Starbuck, Sheba and Cassiopia laughed with
surprise as they offered words of encouragement to Jolly,
while Boomer sat with a big grin on his face.  Jolly,
however, was rooted to his seat, shocked beyond belief and
contemptlating three courses of action.  He could get the
Hades out of the Astral Lounge; he could go up and play; or
he could very cheerfully rip Boomer's head off.
     "Come on, Jolly!" Apollo said.  "You can do it!"
     "You said you'd play for us again," Cassiopia reminded
him.
     "I'm going to kill you, Boomer," Jolly swore, feeling
his face flush with embarrasment.  "But I'll do that _after_
I play, I suppose..."
     "Sergeant Jolly?" Scharel called again, searching the
audiance for her target.  Very slowly, Jolly rose from his
seat, grabbing his p'iob as he made his way up to the stage.
She grinned as she greeted him, and motioned for the
audiance to clap.  "Hi, there!  Are you ready to play?"
     "Uh... play what?" he asked, making sure that they were
out of range of the microphone.
     "Your friend told me that you know most of those kind
of songs," Scharel said, giving him a hard look.  "It's
called `Caprica -' ..."
     "That one?  Uh, sure."  Feeling self-conscious under
the combined stare of the audiance, Jolly bent down to get
the p'iob out, all the while praying that he wouldn't have
any problems getting it started.  To his relief, the drones
began to play smoothly.  Pausing from blowing into the
blowpipe, he quickly told Scharel, "Whenever you're ready.
Just count me in."
     Giving him a bright smile, Scharel counted to three,
then Jolly started with the chanter.  He was surprised when
she let him go through the first two measures without
singing, but as he started to repeat them, she joined in.

     "Hark where the night is falling
     hark hear the p'iobs calling
     Loudly and proudly calling down thru the glen
     There where the hills are sleeping
     Now feel the blood a leaping
     High as the spirits of the old highland men

     Towering in gallant fame
     Capr'ca my mountain hame
     High may your proud standards gloriously wave
     Land of my high endeavor
     Land of the shining river
     Land of my heart forever, Capr'ca the Brave."

     They went through it another few times, then Scharel
let him play through it once more.  He put down the p'iob,
and realized that everyone was staring at them awestruck.
It was different from the Triad game, and he liked the
change.
     When the applause began, it started from his friends'
table.  They were shouting for more, although they were all
displaying it differently.  Sheba and Starbuck were banging
their tankards on the table; Boomer and Apollo were
cheering; and Cassiopia was shouting, "Encore!  Encore!"
     And he did.  Together with Scharel, who took over the
keyboard and accompanied him, they started playing some much
faster tunes.  To each one that Jolly played, Scharel added
some improvisations that made the tune sound completely
exotic and unlike the way he remembered hearing them as a
child.  More... modern?
     Se\oras' words came back to haunt them, and Jolly
closed his eyes briefly.  He knew the answer to his uncle's
questions, about why he chose to join the Colonial Warriors.
About why he chose the life he did.  About why he was so
different from his fellow Keltoi.
     He was helping his culture along by exposing it to the
outside.  The twelve tribes celebrated each others'
differences rather than detested, though Jolly knew that the
celebrations were more recent than the discrimination.  The
Keltoi remembered what had happened on Kobol, when the lords
had tried to get the rebellious clans to join the Kobolian
nation.  They never forgot, and they never forgave.
     But Jolly knew that Se\oras' fears of the remaining
Keltoi being forced to give up their heritage was based on
imaginary fears.  Just by the reaction of his friends and
his coworkers with the Triad game, and this concert, showed
him that they weren't in any immediate danger of being
assimilated into the majority.
     The only danger they were in was being wiped out as a
race by the Cylons, and as a warrior, Jolly was defending
not only the Keltoi, but the other humans as well.  It made
him proud, and he wondered if Se\oras had ever been proud of
him in his entire life.
     The tune ended, and Jolly put his p'iob down, abruptly
shaken out of his thoughts.  This time, the crowd was giving
them a standing ovation, but as Scharel turned to face him,
he realized that they were clapping not for her, but for
him.  And his p'iob.
     "Thank you, Jolly," Scharel said, smiling.  "I hope we
can play again sometime."
     "Uh..." Jolly began, feeling a little overwhelmed by
the appreciation.  "Sure, I guess..."
     She kissed him on the cheek, then walked off-stage,
followed by her band.  Jolly quickly put the p'iob away, and
made his way to the far exit.
     "Jolly!" a voice called him.  Turning around, Jolly
spotted P\adraig making his way over to him.  Before the
younger man could say anything, P\adraig continued, "Jolly,
that was wonderful!  I haven't heard anything that spirited
in yahrens."
     "Thank you, P\adraig.  Well, if it weren't for you,
none of this would be happening."
     "Come, let me buy you a drink."  P\adraig pulled
Jolly's arm to lead him to the Astral Lounge's bar.
"There's something I want to talk to you about."
     "What is it?"
     "No, not until we have our drinks."  Smiling
mysteriously, P\adraig ordered two grogs, then waiting in
silence until their drinks were in front of them before
speaking.  "I can't believe our p'iob sounded so good!"
     Giving him an odd look, since he knew that the p'iob
wasn't what P\adraig wanted to talk about, Jolly played
along.  "You won't believe what we've been offered."
     "Oh?"
     "The commander and the Council are trying to promote
cultural preservation, and we've been selected as examples!"
     "Really?  Ah, then that _was_ Commander Adama I saw at
the back of the lounge."  P\adraig smiled.  "He was with one
of the female councilors, and he really appeared to be
enjoying himself!"
     Jolly grinned as he remembered what Apollo had said
about his father just before the Triad game.  "I think
that's a good thing.  But what is it that you wanted to talk
to me about?"
     "You're from Caprica, right?  Which community?"
     "Creignish."
     "I see," P\adraig said, grinning.  "Do you know a man
named Se\oras?"
     "Uh, yeah.  He was my great-uncle."
     "That's what I thought.  I didn't put it together until
I saw you on-stage.  I met him about two yahrens ago, at a
festival."
     "The last time I saw him was even longer than that.
Three, nearly four yahrens ago."  Jolly sighed.  "He was so
disappointed in me.  I wouldn't be surprised if he hated
me."
     "No, he didn't," P\adraig told him, smiling
sympathetically.  "I know he was very proud of you.  When we
spoke, he kept on mentioning a nephew of his who was a
Colonial Warrior.  He told me that you two hadn't spoken in
sectars, because of a difference of opinion."
     "It was a really big difference of opinion," Jolly told
him.  "I guess we were both being stubborn."
     "He was like most adults, afraid that the young ones
were going astray.  He didn't realize until later that you
weren't astray, that you were helping him to achieve his
goal of preserving the Keltoi and our traditions."
     "I tried to explain it to him once, but..."  Jolly
sighed heavily.  "I looked for him, and for the rest of my
family, after the Cylon attack, but there wasn't anyone
left."
     "Jolly...  Cailean, I know that if your uncle saw what
you've achieved here in this fleet, you would have no doubts
as to how much he was proud of you."  P\adraig shook his
head as Jolly tried to speak.  "No, I'm not finished.  I may
have put the pieces together, but it was you who took my
longing for an extinct instrument that we both cherished and
made it reality.  It was you who found the pieces, or at
least put me onto the right path for many of them."
     "But --"
     "It was you, Jolly.  We would have nothing if you
hadn't done anything."  P\adraig held up his drink.  "To
you, Cailean, and to the future.  Oh, and to the future
p'iobaires who I know will be passing the same traditions
down long after Earth has been found and we're dead."
     Jolly grinned.  "To the p'iobaires."
------------------------------------------------------------
     This story is dedicated to the countless individuals
throughout history who, in the face of persecution, and even
death, persevered the ways of many of Europe and Western
Asia's pipes.  This is also dedicated to the people who
have, like Jolly and P\adraig, have revived many pipes in
the twentieth century.  If it weren't for their efforts,
those pipes would have otherwise disappeared forever.

** Note: The author would like to thank the two people who
have helped her enormously with the "development" of the
character of Scharel Crawe: Laura "Mitiori" Kwartler, and
Michael "Lt. Starbuck" Worrell.  Thank you!