The Cylons' Curse: Three Adventures In The Colonial Frontier (updated) A Battlestar Galactica Fanfic by Paul H. Robison June 26, 2005 Crossovers with Lost in Space, Bonanaza, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, TekWar Battlestar Galactica is the property of Glen A. Larson and Universal Productions (c) 1978 Lost in Space is the property of Irwin Allen, Space Productions and 20th Century Fox (c) 1965 Bonanza is the property of NBC and Universal Television (c)1959 Tek War is the property of the estate of William Shatner (c) 1990 Buck Rogers in the 25th Century is the property of Robert C. Dille and Universal Studios (c) 1979 All are used without permission, for my amusement and that of anyone else reading the following, and without intent to make any money whatsoever. Spoilers: 1. Battlestar Galactica # 10: The Long Patrol by Glen A. Larson and Ron Goulart. Ballentine Books, N.Y., N.Y., 1985 2. Battlestar Galactica Episode Stories by Eric Paddon The Long Patrol (Adaptation) Fire in Space (Adaptation) The Magnificent Warriors (Adaptation) Sequel to: Flight Into the Unknown Gun on Desert Planet Equis Living Legend of Outer Space Prequel to: "A Visitor From Hades" "Rogue in Space" "Greetings From Space Family Robinson" The Lord of Nightmares Death to Jeremiah Special Guest Stars: 1. Princess Alpha (Lost in Space Season 3: "Princess of Space.") 2. Captain Kraspo (Lost in Space Season 3: "Princess of Space.") 3. Fedor (Lost in Space Season 3: "Princess of Space") 4. Hoss Cartwright/Hoss (Bonanza T.V. Series) 5. Winger (William Shatner's Tek War Novel) 6. Warbride (William Shatner's Tek War Novel) 7. The Planet Arcadis/New Corinth (Buck Rogers in the 25th Century Season 2: "The Satyr") 8: The Dorays (Author's note: Borays (The Magnificent Warriors)+Dorians (Buck Rogers in the 25th Century Season 2: "The Dorian Secret") ) From The Adama Journals After three sectars of roaming through space since our departure from the Colonies, we have reached an important crossroads in our quest for Earth. In only a matter of centars we will officially leave the home quadrant of our galaxy that contain the full parameter of what was once known as the Colonial Frontier. The tight-circle where we developed our civilization, and traded with so many other races, and of course, found ourselves ultimately drawn into war with the Cylon Empire for survival. And now our continued existence demands that we leave this familiar part of the galaxy forever and entering the largely unknown domain of the Alpha Quadrant. The innermost ring of what lies in this sector adjacent to the Home Quadrant is known to us largely through old Colonial star navigational charts, many of which are hundreds of yahrens out of date. This is followed by the vast unknown that we must be expected to search if our quest for the Thirteenth Colony called Earth is to succeed. To search that vast unknown, and find the one pathway that will lead us to Earth remains our most formidable obstacle, and one that will require more faith in the mercy of the Lords than anything else we conceivably face in this journey, along with of course the danger that the trailing Cylon pursuit force poses to us. But in most respects, our ability to persevere in this search for the right path may in fact hold the greater key to our survival than our ability to beat back any challenge the pursuit force gives to us. Upon completion of this entry, I will leave for the Bridge so I might be there when the centon of our entry into the Alpha Quadrant takes place. It is the kind of occasion that in my younger days would have left me excited over the prospects of exploring the challenges of deep space. Today, as I consider the weight of my many yahrens, the losses I have experienced these last few sectars, and the obstacles that still face us if we are to survive, I can only see it as a reminder of how difficult the struggle remains. The only thing I can do is to not let that sense of weariness I feel within me become apparent to anyone. I must be strong and project nothing but strength, or else the people will lose their ability to have faith in what I have told them, that there is a distant dream of a Thirteenth Colony awaiting us. Chapter One: The New Star System Majestically, the Battlestar Galactica moved through the deep blackness of starless space. The gigantic, multi-level vehicle was the greatest fighting ship in the Colonial Fleet, a world unto itself that housed thousands. The person, who oversaw the destiny of those thousands, and of the hundreds in the rest of the rag-tag fleet, was Commander Adama, a broad-shouldered, gray-haired man. When he entered the bridge and mounted the steps to the upper level, he could feel a web of disagreeing emotions inside him. On the one hand, there was the sense of wonder over crossing an important threshold by entering the Alpha Quadrant was testament enough to how they'd been able to endure despite great odds in the last three sectars. On the other, the sadness at being reminded of how with each passing day the regions of space that had been so reassuringly familiar were more and more being left behind, probably forever. He could see Apollo at the base of the railing, looking down at the main viewing window, with Boxey alongside him, and the robot daggit Muffit off to one side. The little boy was already dressed for his sleep period, but Adama knew that Apollo wanted his son to be here for this special occasion. Apollo was young enough to still feel the awe and wonder over entering this new, more unknown region of space, and it also tapped into that part of him that would have preferred to be just an ordinary interplanetary starship sailor rather than a warrior if there had never been a war with the Cylons. To Apollo, it was the kind of occasion that he wanted to share with his son. And Adama knew it was the kind of thing that he had not been able to share with Apollo or any of his other children during their youth, and that Apollo was determined to set a different example; something that Adama approved of wholeheartedly. He stood on the bridge of the battlestar and fixed his gaze on the large observation window looking straight into the powerful darkness. Colonel Tigh became aware of Adama's arrival and approached him. "Sensors indicate that we're nearly to the end of the asteroid dust cloud, Commander," the executive officer said. "That will officially put is in the Alpha Quadrant." Adama nodded. "Any problems with the rest of the Fleet navigating through it?" "None worth bringing to your attention, sir." "It's strange," said Adama as he turned away from the dark window, moving over to the railing where Apollo and Boxey were. "I feel nervous, as uneasy as a cadet on his first orbit." His son peeked up, surprised, to some extent, to see him. "Oh, Father! Yes, in a way, I guess you are." "Hi, Grandpa," Boxey said, looking somewhat non-pulsed. "I don't think I'm nervous. But maybe that's because I sort of don't know what to be nervous about." Apollo stepped away from the data panel he'd been studying. He laughed as he put his hands on his son's shoulders so he could crouch beside him. "This is what's happening, Boxey. We're leaving the home quadrant of the galaxy, where the Colonies and all the other planets and star systems we're most familiar with are located. There are five other quadrants of the galaxy that have been barely explored before, and this one, the Alpha Quadrant, is where Earth is located." "How do we know that?" the little boy's interest picked up slightly. "Grandpa found that out on Kobol, where it said Earth was located in the Alpha Quadrant. That's why we're headed this way through the asteroid dust cloud that's marked as the gateway from our home quadrant to this one. When we get through it, this'll be practically a whole new galaxy for Colonial space travelers." "A brand new place?" "For us, yes. A galaxy nobody in our Fleet has ever seen before." "That's it, Commander," said Tigh, nodding at the wide view window, "we're through." Stars were appearing in the silent blackness outside, a sparkle of light here, another there, soon dozens, and then hundreds. And then there were thousands of stars glowing in space, surrounding the Galactica and the fleet. Even Muffit's robot mind seemed impressed as the daggit let out a bark. "Hush, Muffit," Boxey glanced at his pet. "It's just a bunch of stars." Adama let out a chuckle, "Apollo, maybe Boxey should take the helm since he seems to be the only one on the Bridge with a sense of perspective." "Can I?" the little boy suddenly showed more enthusiasm than he had since his arrival on the bridge. "I mean, we're in a new sector and all." Apollo smiled thinly, and injected just the right smattering of parental authority. "No you cannot, young man. You're centons into your sleep period already, remember?" The boy glanced toward his grandfather. "Shouldn't I maybe stay up?" Assuming a relatively stern look, yet loving every micron of what he was seeing, the commander told him, "Now you leave me out of this, hear? I command the Fleet, young fellow, but Apollo's your father." Shoulders slumping, Boxey said, "Okay, I'll go to bed and miss everything." He began a slow, forlorn exit from the bridge with his daggit trailing him. Apollo knew he didn't have to accompany him since Boxey knew the way from his quarters to the bridge so well he could walk it with his eyes closed. "Seems to me," said Apollo, watching him go, "that Zac and I used to have similar debates with you when we were about that age, Dad." "You were usually the most dramatic," his father smiled as he patted him on the shoulder. "As I recall, you had quite a talent for stomping your foot." "Boy, did I ever." Apollo's posture then became more formal. "So now that we're in the Alpha Quadrant, what's next on the list of chores for us?" "Taking sensor sweeps of what lies ahead of us as quickly as possible," his father also resumed a formal tone. "The inner ring has planets that were once part of the furthest reaches of the Colonial Frontier, but that was hundreds of yahrens ago. Still, it leaves open the possibility that the Cylons may have been interested enough to move into these regions without our knowledge, and that's our chief concern at this time. Colonel Tigh rejoined them. "Initial sensor readings are negative," he reported. "No indications of life forms within the first quadrant of this new sector." "Hum," Adama mused. "As soon as the rest of the fleet clears the asteroid dust," Adama said, "focus all the sensors forward to increase our scanning range. And tell Dr. Wilker to make sure preparations are finished on Recon Viper One for whenever we need it." "Yes sir," the executive officer nodded and moved off. "Do you really think it's a good idea to use Wilker's new plaything?" Apollo asked. "I'm still a bit uneasy about the risk factor. Especially if our first concern is Cylon penetration into this quadrant." "Understood, but from a practical standpoint, Apollo, the ability to escape a Cylon ambush is theoretically greater in this Recon Viper." "You couldn't get me to volunteer for that flight," Apollo shook his head. "Wilker's a genius, I will admit. He proved that by creating Muffit for Boxey. But---well---I'm just not ready to entrust my life to one of his creations." The commander, followed by Apollo, walked over to a console manned by the dark-haired Athena. "I thought you might feel that way, especially since you never were the type to be impressed easily by technological advancements in Viper craft. "So who did volunteer for the mission?" "Lieutenant Starbuck," answered the captain, smiling faintly. Abruptly, Athena turned around in surprise, "Starbuck volunteered for the Recon mission?" Apollo smiled at his sister. "I don't think it was his sense of duty. There was a certain incentive attached to it." "What kind of incentive. "Ever since the Council gave permissions to the Scorpians to reopen the Astro Lounge over on the Liare, Starbuck's been trying to raise enough money to get into the place. Father's offered a hundred cubit flight bonus to the first pilot who flies our new Recon Viper." "Really," Athena settled back in her chair. "Don't criticize his volunteering," said the commander. "Bonus or not, the mission may be a long and, I might add, very dangerous one." "Far be it from me to suggest my old buddy's a mercenary," Apollo's smile widened. Adama nodded at Athena. "What's Starbuck's status right now?" Athena punched the display status for all pilots on the computer. Names of warriors scrolled up the console's display screen. When Starbuck's came up, the crawl ceased. Athena tapped the screen with her forefinger. "He's Status Green," she said. "Right now, he's on the Rising Star. Nodding, Commander Adama said, "Let's hope we don't have to jump him to Status Red until after he's had his dinner." He moved on. Athena was shaking her head as though she were disgusted about something. "Something bothering you, Athena?" Adama asked. "Yesterday, he asked if I was free for dinner tonight," she said. "I thought he meant a get-together in the Officer's Club, and I told him I was already working this shift, and he then said that was okay, maybe another time. He didn't tell me he had something like the Rising Star in mind." "I see," Adama said. "As your commanding officer and father, I hereby grant you the freedom to change your plans. Colonel Tigh and I can cover for you in the meantime." Athena haltingly broke into a smile. "Thanks, Father." She then rose from her seat and left the bridge. Uneasily, Apollo came over to his father. "Ummm...Father, I didn't want to say anything of a sensitive nature, but...that may not have been a good idea." "Why not?" the Commander frowned. "Well...In all probability, if Starbuck knew that Athena couldn't make it, he wouldn't be inclined to go over to the Rising Star alone." "That's certainly news to me," said Adama. "I had the feeling that things had gotten bumpy between them, but who would Starbuck ask out on such short notice." "I'm not sure, although I think I've got a pretty good guess who if he did invite someone else," Apollo didn't think it was his place to bring up the interest Starbuck had been taking in the former socilator turned med-tech named Cassiopeia. Adama breathed in deeply. "Well, if that's the case, I'm sure Athena's capable of behaving like a mature adult. And if Starbuck doesn't want to create difficulties with her, he won't end up trying to hurt her." "You're right," Apollo nodded. "Whatever happens, I'm sure he'll try to do what's socially proper." ***** The luxury ship Rising Star was, on this particular evening, situated relatively close to the Galactica, meaning that it would be among the first ships in the Fleet to clear the asteroid dust cloud and take note of the sudden brilliance presented by a myriad of unknown stars around them. Inside the Main Dining Hall, a crowd of people had congregated by the large full-length porthole at the Hall's entry point to take in the sight. On everyone's face, the reaction of total awe seemed highly contagious. A grayish-black haired man with wide comical eyes and a slim moustache stood among the crowd and smiled. His name was Zumdish, and there was no one else aboard the luxury ship with a deeper sense of history and appreciation for what the Rising Star meant and symbolized than him. As a young man of eighteen yahrens, he had enlisted in the Colonial Merchant Service and had been assigned to the Rising Star as a bar steward. Now, more than forty yahrens later, with service aboard no other ship, he was the Rising Star's Chief Steward and supervisor of the entire staff of bartenders, waiters and stewards who worked in the three entertainment sections aboard the ship. In this case, the Main Dining Hall, the adjacent Astral Lounge, and the Empyreal Lounge, which was located on the other side of the ship. As Chief Steward, Zumdish directly oversaw and managed all activities in the Main Dining Hall and Astral Lounge, while the Assistant Chief Steward, Zerio, took care of matters in the Empyreal Lounge. He could always be expected to be persistently on the move attending to arriving guests and seeing to it that he was familiar with each of their names, and what it was they were looking forward to most aboard the Rising Star. His ability to combine courteousness with an air of formal authority ultimately made him the enduring symbol of the Rising Star's sense of grandeur and style. And those who got to know him, could always expect him to spend many centars telling stories about his forty yahrens of service aboard the luxury liner and the people he'd met and known from all walks of life, as well as the stories about the Rising Star's heritage, stretching back more than three hundred yahrens, that he had carefully learned as well. Tonight, as he watched and saw the onetime interstellar liner move free of the asteroid dust cloud, would not be an exception. "Ach. Theesh remindsh me of the old daysh," he said in his famously peculiar accent. "What do you know about the old days, Zum?" "Much, much, much, Lieutenant," Zumdish said. "I've sherved aboard the Rishing Shtar shince I wash jusht a lad. Back then, we traveled to the very end of the Colonial Frontier. Thosh were wonderful, wonderful timesh. Before the war, that eesh." "Before the war?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow. "Are you a thousand yahrens old, Zumdish?" "Ach, forg-geev an ageeng man for heesh bad habeetsh. For thosh of ush who sherved on the Rishing Shtar back then, the war wash more...deesh-tant to ush. Not partee-cularly acteeve at that point, wheech wash why the Rishing Shtar could travel much further out eento shpace and put eento all kinds of deeshtant planetsh and shpacedromesh, like my favorite, Quotara. When the war shuddenly heated up again, that put an end to the daysh of traveling such great deesh-tan-ches. Thatsh why to thosh of ush who sherve aboard the Rishing Shtar, 'pre-war' meansh the happier daysh of exshitement, and deep spacsh travel." "I see," Starbuck realized that he couldn't dare show too much interest in Zumdish's renowned gift for storytelling, or else he'd be distracted from what he wanted to do this evening. "Y'know, Zum, this could be my last chance to have dinner on the Rising Star for awhile, the big mission coming up and all that. So, ah," he pulled Cassiopeia, who was beaming, more tightly to him, "You wouldn't happen to have a private dining room available would you?" Zumdish made a loud popping sound by puckering his lips into an "O" and then slapping the flat of his hand against his lips. "Very shorry, very shorry, Lieutenant," he said. "Private roomsh musht be resherved shix or sheven meely-shen-tonsh een advansh. Eet eesh not posh-ee-ble ash we have a very high attendanch aboard sheep theesh eve-en-neeng." Starbuck deftly transferred a gold ingot that represented one hundred cubits from his hand to that of Zumdish. "You'd be doing a good deed." Immediately, Zumdish made another popping noise as he discreetly pocketed the cubit. "Yesh! Perhapsh een your casesh, one can alwaysh shee to eet that arrangementsh are made for a warrior on heesh lasht night before the big meesh-un. Follow me, pleesh." Starbuck hesitated an instant before following the Chief Steward down the corridor that led to the private rooms. "Last night?" his left eye narrowed. "I don't think I like the way he said that." ***** Chapter Two: Starbuck's Last Night "Starbuck," Cassiopeia said as they began to walk. "What's this I hear about a big mission? What exactly is it?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Nothing special, just a routine recon jaunt, but don't tell him that." They reached the end of the corridor, where Zumdish had opened the door that led to one of more than a dozen private rooms situated in the passageway. "Thish weel do nishly, yesh?" Starbuck and Cassiopeia stepped in and took a look. "Perfect," the blonde warrior grinned. "And if you could furnish a bottle of Virgon ambrosa, that would make it even more perfect." "Virgon ambrosha, Lieutenant?" Zumdish lifted an eyebrow. "We're already een leemeeted shuppliesh ash eet eesh, and you're ashking for the raresht veen-tage---" He stopped as Starbuck slipped him another hundred-cubit ingot. "I'll she what I can do," the Chief Steward said as he turned and departed. No wonder he's served on the Rising Star all these yahrens, he thought. I'll bet he got his own quarters in Elite Class just by getting all those extra bribes and tips. "Okay, Starbuck," Cassiopeia put her arms around him and kissed him. 'Whether we get Virgon ambrosa or not, I expect to have a good time just the same." He grinned. "Hey, you know me. I always know how to make the best out of any situation." "It means a lot that you asked me out on this," she let go of him and took a moment to look about the room. "We med-techs don't get asked out very often." Starbuck smiled thinly. He didn't have the heart or the nerve to mention that it was her previous profession that had intrigued her more than her current one. Although in the three sectars since she had given up being a socilator to become a med-tech, he had gotten to see a lot more substance to Cassiopeia as a woman than he'd ever expected to see. Even so, he was still at a point where he was not completely ready to break all the pre-Holocaust ties he'd felt with Athena, and that was why he'd taken a chance asking her out first, only to get told that she was on duty for the night. It had disappointed him that she wouldn't have thought of a reason for getting out of bridge duty to take advantage of their first date in a long time, and it made him wonder if he should take that as a hint that his relationship with Athena was beyond salvaging. But even now, as he came up to Cassiopeia again and put his hands on her shoulders, he was not about to let his uncertainty over that stand in the way of a good evening. "I don't think of you as a med-tech," his smile spread out into a grin, "I just think of you as a very, very beautiful woman," he kissed the back of her neck. "I'll do my best to live up to that image," she turned around and kissed him again. "And in order to do that, I'll have to take a centon to freshen up a bit." "Hey, do whatever you think is best," Starbuck kept grinning as he pulled out a fumarello and poked it into his mouth. "I'm sure the results will be worth waiting for." As soon as the door whispered shut, he settled back in the couch and lit the fumarello with a contented air. I do believe this is going to be a night to remember, he thought. ***** On the Galactica' s Bridge, Omega was attentively studying the results of the forward sensor scans with such intensity on his face that from the other side of the Bridge, Rigel stared at him with a bemused expression. He's so damn wrapped up in his work, she thought with resignation. Even though she and Omega had dated several times in the past and she knew that he was interested in her, she also knew that the Bridge Officer often got trapped in his duties to the point where any prospects for a social life tended to be crowded out. It had been more than a couple of sectans since he'd last asked her out and she wondered if a subtle hint to him at some point was in order. Suddenly, Omega came forward in his chair and called out to Adama and Tigh, which, at the same time, caused Rigel to whip her head back toward her own computer terminal and get back to work. "Commander, Colonel, we've got long range scanner suggestions of possible life forms!" Adama, who was still conversing with Apollo, came over from their side of the Bridge, situated in front of the Bridge Officer, while Tigh, who had previously been engaged in duties on the upper level, approached from behind. "Position?" Adama asked. "Delta vector eight, heading eight, six, two." He looked up. "Request permission to concentrate all scans in this direction." "Permission granted," the Commander said and looked over at Rigel. "Rigel, correlate this area being scanned to the listing of planets in all known Colonial star maps on file." "Yes sir. I should have that in a centon," Rigel said as she went to work. "What do you think?" Apollo asked. "Could the Cylons have penetrated this area?" "It's impossible to know from this far out," his father shook his head. "It could be the Narn, Centauri or some other race we've never heard of, and...well, there's even the possibility of human settlements that were written off by the Colonies long ago. We're not yet at the stage where any humans we come across have no possible connections to earlier Colonial settlements." He looked up at the Executive Officer. "Colonel, what does Dr. Wilker have to say about the status of Recon Viper One?" "He says it's ready for whenever it's needed." "Good," Adama nodded and turned back to his son. "Get Starbuck back here immediately. His mission just moved up to tonight." ***** Starbuck had just taken another satisfied puff on his fumarello when the door panel whispered open again. "Whoops!" he stammered as he got to his feet. Athena stepped across the threshold. "Hi." She came over to him. "I...managed to get off duty after all and I thought I'd surprise you." "Well...you sure did, Athena. You sure did! Starbuck's chuckled sounded very boyish to his ears. He could feel his mind flashing back to Carillon and the hole he'd dug for himself the last time Cassiopeia and Athena had confronted each other, and the last thing he wanted was a replay of that. "I thought I'd better tell you that you may be bumped up to Red Status," the dark-haired young woman said while taking a few tentative steps toward the table. "Red Status?" He put down his cigar. "You see, Starbuck, I just learned that you'd volunteered for the recon probe," she said, eyes misting slightly. "I mean, you'd asked me to spend your last night with you and all." "Why does everybody keep saying that?" "Saying what?" "Never mind." "I guess I'm not putting this just right, Starbuck," continued Athena. "The thing is, I really don't want you to be alone. You are alone, aren't you?" "Oh, well ah..." he found himself desperately fishing for words and then decided on a quick answer that he knew was a cop-out. "Alone...Why...of course I'm alone!" he managed to smile. The door sizzled open. For an instant, Starbuck was afraid it was Cassiopeia, but when he managed to look he could see it was Zumdish, holding a tray containing two glasses and a bottle of ambrosa. "Lieutenant, I managed to---" the Chief Steward abruptly stopped as he saw Athena, settled next to Starbuck, and then with the faintest trace of amusement set the tray down. "Oh! Hi, Zum!" Starbuck bolted over to him. "Glad you're back because ah...this dinky little private room was sufficient when I was alone and sulking. Now, though, I feel the need of something a mite better. Posher." "That may be mosht deefeecult, shir." "Difficult, but...ah...not impossible." Starbuck passed him another cubit. "Eet occursh to me, Lieutenant, that there eesh eendeed another room available, one that more ideally shuits your preshent needsh." He tapped his temple with the hand that clutched Starbuck's latest contribution. "Yet, my poor old brain ish haf-eeng trouble recalling where." "This may jog your memory," Starbuck provided yet another glittering cubit. "Eet all comesh back to me now, yesh," said Zumdish with a positive nod of his head. "Right theesh way, shir and meesh." He bowed and led them from the room. "My, aren't you jittery tonight?" observed Athena as she took his arm. "Worried about the mission, Starbuck?" "No, no," he said quickly. "No, it's actually the sight of you. Yes, you, the fairest creature on all the ships in the Fleet. You set my blood to racing." "Well, that's very flattering," she said smiling. "Even though I don't believe it at...careful!" He'd been glancing from left to right, alert, on the lookout for Cassiopeia, and had tripped on a wrinkle in the plush carpeting. "Sorry," he said. "Being with you, love, makes me a mite giddy, I guess." To his relief, Zumdish reached a room on the other side of the corridor and motioned them in without anyone else appearing. "Here you are, shir," the Chief Steward continued to smile. "Remember, eef you need any-sheeng elsh, be sure to ashk for me pershonally. You can alwaysh count on me to handle all of your problemsh." "I'm sure of that," Starbuck said with the faintest air of sarcasm as he and Athena entered the room. "Oh. Und letch not forget your ambrosha, shir. Choish Virgon vintage, ash you requeshted," Zumdish set the tray down. "Thank you," Starbuck wished he would go. "That'll be all...for now." "Shertainly, shir." Zumdish had a twinkle in his goofy eyes as he departed. Athena still had a quizzical look on her face. "Were you expecting company?" "Huh? Who me?" Starbuck wondered if he was going to break out in a nervous sweat. "I noticed you had two glasses ordered with that," she motioned at the tray. "Talk about extrasensory perception," he chuckled, gesturing at the little room. "I was sitting in there brooding, contemplating the vast panorama of this new galaxy, and reflecting on the meaning of life when I got this very strong hunch that someone, someone lovely, was going to join me. That's when I ordered a second glass." "I see," she could still feel an air of suspicion inside her, but wasn't willing to express it openly. Not yet at least. "So, ah..." Starbuck said as he hastily poured a libation and handed it to her, "how are things on the Bridge?" She took the glass and sipped the contents. By far, the best she had ever tasted and it managed to sooth her suspicious mind, at least for now. "The same as they always are. Although tonight, everyone was kind of edgy about getting through the asteroid dust cloud. Good thing the Rising Star's flying so close to the Galactica or else I would've had to wait several centars for a shuttle to get through the cloud." Just my frakkin' luck, Starbuck thought. "Is shop talk the only thing you had in mind for tonight, Starbuck?" her voice took on that suggestive edge that she knew in the past had always been able to make an impression on him. "Oh, ah no. No, not at all. It's just...you know, I was suddenly thinking that now that I'm sharing this bottle with someone and not drinking it myself, I've just got to have some fresh protein available to go with it, or else you can't fully appreciate it. Right?" "I guess," the suspicious feeling returned to her, and she was beginning to think she'd made a mistake coming over. "Since when are you such a connoisseur?" "Hey, for an evening with you, I've got to be knowledgeable about these things. Now, give me a centon and I'll see about getting some right away." "Why bother? Just ask Mr. Zumdish." "Nope, can't waste time waiting for him and telling him and even more time waiting for him to go back and get it. This'll be much quicker, believe me. So sit tight and enjoy the ambrosa. I'll be back in a flash." He jaunted out into the passageway, leaving her confused and feeling her suspicions mounting. I probably made a mistake coming here. I'll bet anything if I were out in the hallway, he's either meeting someone or making a telecom to someone else he invited instead. Still, she lacked the nerve to go out there to see her suspicions confirmed. If only because she desperately wanted to cling to a ray of hope that her suspicions were groundless. ***** "Dr. Wilker's arrived in Launch Bay Alpha to make the final recheck on Recon Viper One and brief the pilot," Tigh said. "Good. Tell him he'll probably have to wait just a bit to give Lieutenant Starbuck time to return to the Galactica." Adama returned his attention to Omega's station. "Anything more on those earlier life form scans?" "We've just about got the position narrowed down to this system here along the Delta vector heading," Omega said. "Indications are of a binary star system with multiple asteroid bodies, several of which may be capable of sustaining human life. Still not close enough to verify." Adama turned to Rigel, "Is the position correlated in the Star Map database?" "Yes it is, sir," Rigel replied. "Destructon star system. Consists of five asteroids, only one of which was marked and deemed suitable for human life forms." "Any indications of past Colonial survey or settlement?" Rigel shook her head. "I'm sorry, Commander. No available information in the database. This may have been something only Central Fleet Archives had details on." "All of which is no longer accessible to us," Adama sighed. "Very well, that's where Recon Viper One will begin its investigation. I hope Starbuck had time to finish his dinner." ***** Feeling slightly panicked, Starbuck made his way back to the private room he had vacated centons before, and when he entered he saw Cassiopeia settled on the couch with a concerned look. "Where've you been? I was worried for a moment that you'd been put on alert all of a sudden." "Sorry about that. Zumdish came back while you were still out and said there was no way he could come up with any Virgon ambrosa, so I just had to go out and raise a ruckus about that, but," he shrugged, "even my powers of persuasion have their limits." "Too bad," she said. "I went to the trouble of having some fresh protein delivered. Without ambrosa though..." "Who says you gotta have ambrosa to take pleasure in the sweet taste of protein?" Starbuck said as he settled next to her on the couch, helping himself. "I mean, what do those guys who write all that felgercarb about what food goes with what drink really know, when you think about it? If it tastes good, it tastes good no matter what." He picked up a piece and sampled it. "Mmmmm. Delicious. See what I mean? Those culinary expertsare full of felgercarb." "One thing's for certain," she playfully ran her hand through his hair. "We don't need ambrosa to get the necessary effect for a pleasant evening." He smiled. "How nice of you to point that out." She was on the very of kissing him again, when suddenly a voxbox announcement filled the room: "Lieutenant Starbuck. Attention, Lieutenant Starbuck. Return to Battlestar Galactica at once. Lieutenant Starbuck, report to Launch Bay Alpha, immediately. Priority Red!" "Oh frack!" said Cassiopeia sadly. "Just when things were starting to get interesting." Inside, Starbuck was feeling a wave of relief, as though he'd just been spared from the hangman's noose. "Yeah well...duty calls, love. At least this time it wasn't a malfunctioning steam blast that interrupted us." "I guess not," she laughed. Returning to the table, he bent and kissed her. "Here," Starbuck unfastened the insignia pin from the left side of his cape. "Take this and keep it close to you, as I head off into the great unknown on this dangerous mission." She took it and smiled obliquely. "I thought you said it was just a routine patrol." "Routine patrols have been known to hold unexpected dangers." He got to his feet. "Now, you just finish the protein and help yourself to all the things this ship's got to offer. Until next time, dear Cassiopeia." He then blew her a kiss and left the room, leaving her alone to finger the insignia pin with a contented air. Once he was out in the corridor, Starbuck sprinted back to the second private room. "Would you believe it?" he threw up his arms in disgust. "I gotta check on fresh protein so things can be perfect and then I have to get that voxbox message." "I heard," Athena said. "I guess tonight just wasn't meant for us." "No, it sure wasn't," he smiled and came over to her. "Still, there can always be another time." "Can there?" her tone became serious. "You and I...we've...not exactly taken advantage of each other's company of late, Starbuck." For the first time, Starbuck's concerns over the hilarious situation he'd been thrust into faded, as he realized she'd brought up a point he'd been avoiding for some time. "No, I guess we haven't," he said. "Things have...really been more chaotic these last few sectars than either of us ever expected the might be. Of course, if you spent more time keeping up with the reserve flight group, we'd be able to see each other more often, I'm sure." "I'm not cut out to keep up with viper flying, believe me. Stepping in when I was needed at Kobol was one thing, but...," she broke off. "Sorry, I'm keeping you from duty. The Commander filled me in on what it was about before I left." "Ahaaa!" Starbuck nodded. "In that case, Athena, you know all the risks it entails, so I'll tell you what." He removed the remaining insignia pin from his cape. "Hang on to this for me while I'm gone, will you? A little thing to remember me by." She took it, and found herself touched by the gallant gesture. "Thanks, Starbuck." He gave her a hug and kissed her on the mouth, the first time he'd done so in a long while. A wave of memories of what they'd shared before the Holocaust filled Starbuck's mind as he realized why it was still difficult to think of admitting that the relationship with Athena wasn't what it had once been and couldn't be recaptured. "Gotta go now," he released her. "Duty calls, love." "I can go with you back to the Galactica." "Ah, ah!" he held up a hand and backed up toward the door. "No, don't move a muscle, you just got here so why don't you just finish the ambrosa and help yourself to everything this ship's got to offer. Besides," he took a breath and knew he'd regret this but he didn't want to take any chances, "I want to remember you just as you are. Framed here in our little bower, a myriad of stars behind you." The way in which he uttered his endearing comments only made the suspicious aura return to Athena's mind. Still, she didn't want to say anything she might regret later. Not after the disastrous conversation in the locker room just after the Destruction, which she knew had sent their relationship on a downward spiral. He blew her a kiss and disappeared. Once the door hissed shut, Athena shook her head, not knowing whether to think the evening had been a positive step in the right direction or a complete and utter disaster. One thing's for sure, she thought wryly, he could use a remedial class in literature to come up with better romantic comments than that exit line. ***** As soon as he was in the corridor, Starbuck headed in the direction of the Main Dining Hall, which would ultimately lead him to the docking area and the safety of the Galactica. Before he reached the end of the corridor, he noticed Zumdish holding a computer clipboard. "Lieutenant," he said, "eef you now plan on deen-ner for both roomsh, that weel necessh-ee-tate a shlight adjushtment." Starbuck let out a defeated sigh and pulled out his moneybag. "Tell you what, Zum," he emptied the remaining contents into his hand, which amounted to four hundred more cubits. "Where I'm going, cubits aren't needed anyway. I might as well just start with a clean slate on my next pay cycle." He dropped them on the computer clipboard and the Chief Steward smiled. "Thank you, shir. Und might I add that I admire the lieutenant-sh dare-ingk?" "Don't go overboard. It's not that kind of mission." "Not the meesh-un, shir," Zumdish said. "I was referring to the two young ladiesh. Very pre-war of you. Eet putsh me een mind of why thosh daysh were sho schpeshal to all of ush who sherved aboard the Rishing Shtar back then." Starbuck smiled crookedly. "Someday, Zumdish, I'm going to want to hear all the details of those pre-war stories you've got tucked away." He then walked away at a brisk pace, leaving Zumdish alone to pick up the cubits from his clipboard and pocket them. Just as he finished he could hear the door to both private rooms open and he could see both Athena and Cassiopeia emerge, with each of them staring at the insignia pin they had been given, and not aware of the other's presence. Zumdish immediately made a hasty retreat in the other direction, not wanting to see an example of the unpleasant side of what "pre-war" behavior sometimes led to. He could vividly recall many occasions in his early days when a Rising Star passenger on a date with a young woman suddenly had to contend with another girlfriend, or even a wife, showing up unexpectedly. And sometimes, the results had led to physical blows. As if on cue, both Cassiopeia and Athena looked up at the same instant and found themselves looking right into each others eyes and then seeing that both had each part of Starbuck's cape insignia pins. Cassiopeia was the one more taken aback at first, since she had not developed the slightest suspicion that Starbuck had something like this in mind. But then, it almost struck her as funny and she found herself trying not to laugh. Athena on the other hand was feeling a mixture of anger at both Starbuck and herself. "I knew it!" she said aloud. "I knew he couldn't have been alone." "Hello, Athena," Cassiopeia smiled. "Nice to see you again." "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," she glared at her. "Athena," the med-tech said gently. "Come off it. If we're just now forced to admit to each other that we've become challengers for his affection, there's no reason why we should hate each other or come to blows about it." Athena felt herself calming down inside. "You're right. Nothing personal, Cassiopeia, but it's...just...him. I should know by now that it's over between us, so why do I keep---" she trailed off and shook her head, wondering why she'd been so na‹ve. "Aw, don't be too hard on yourself," Cassiopeia suddenly found herself concerned about her, which struck her as ironic. "The fact that you're here tells me that he asked you out first, didn't he? Because he only asked me out a couple of centars ago, and that means that I certainly haven't become the clear number one in his eyes...yet." Her words caused some of Athena's inner rage and awkwardness to vanish. "I guess so." She then frowned. "Why would you even bother saying that to me, anyway?" "Because I like you, Athena. And whatever happens I want us to come out of this on decent terms, if not friends." She nodded and for the first time relaxed. "You know, it's not as if this is the first time I've seen him do this kind of juggling act. When...we first started going out with each other, he had another girlfriend from awhile back that he wasn't ready to cut all ties with." "Oh?" Cassiopeia lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "He never mentioned anyone else he's gone out with before. Who was she?" "Someone he knew on Caprica named Aurora. She was killed the night of the attack." Athena paused, and a thoughtful air entered her voice. "Just out of curiosity, is there any protein in your room?" "Yes," she nodded. "And I assume the ambrosa's in yours." Athena smiled. "Then how about we finish them off while sharing all the nasty things we can possibly say about him to each other." Cassiopeia returned it. "You're on." ***** Chapter Three: Recon Viper One Starbuck's shuttle jaunt to the Galactica felt more relaxing to him than a ride escaping from a Cylon prison might have felt to him. The whole evening had left a bitter taste in his mouth and made him want to completely forget all about women and romance...for now at least. The reality was that he was reaching a point where he knew that sooner or later he had to choose between one of the two women, hurting the other one in the process. The pre-Holocaust Starbuck wouldn't have let himself feel too guilty about that, but not anymore. As soon as he arrived on the battlestar, he saw Apollo waiting for him. "Glad you could make it," Apollo said. 'You've got exactly five centons to change clothes and get back down to the launch bay for briefing. You're to wear the stealth uniform for this mission." "Got it," Starbuck said obediently, determined to hurl himself into every facet of the mission. Five centons later, Apollo was surprised to see that Starbuck had followed orders and wasted no time. He was wearing a gray and black bodysuit with no markings or insignia, and a nondescript helmet that more resembled a triad helmet than a pilot's. Alongside his viper were Apollo, Boomer and Dr. Wilker. "Wow!" Boomer said as he eyed Starbuck. "You sure do look just fetching," Starbuck held out his arms at his sides and executed a slow turn. "I do wonders for any kind of uniform," he grinned. "Maybe because of this, the Colonial Warrior's uniform will get its first revamp in a hundred yahrens. We could strike more fear and terror with a darker color scheme. Remember that comic book superhero that fought crime in Caprica City dressed up in a bat costume?" "The only problem, Starbuck, is that you hardly ever look like a warrior, so how could your wearing this have an impact on what the rest of us wear?" Boomer refused to let up. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to do some needling of his friend, and before a serious mission was always the best time to engage in needling, if only to let the warrior who was about to take the risky mission feel more relaxed. "Hmm, you got me on that one, Boomer. Maybe it's my lack of a good haircut in recent sectars that makes you think that. Of course, the reason why it's safter to just let it grow is because there isn't a single haircutter in the Fleet I'd trust for a micron. They'd probably all want to give me an Academy cadet's buzz on a micron's notice." "Even though that helmet you've got there is more apt to damage such an unkempt style like yours already is," Apollo grinned. "Did you enjoy your meal?" Starbuck grimaced. "Let's just say that I'm looking forward to a few centons in space. Alone. Just me, a fast ship and, hopefully, a fair and empty quadrant." "Well, you've certainly got the fast ship, ole buddy." Apollo motioned to the Electronics Scientist who'd been standing by with an impatient aura, since he was anxious to go into one of his famous lectures that were always guaranteed to be topheavy with the latest scientific jargon. "Dr. Wilker, kindly explain to the Lieutenant what he's going to be handling." "Thank you very much, Captain." Wilker stepped forward. "This experimental Recon Viper is the finest advancement my staff and I have ever devised. Thanks to the addition of extra engine space, the speed capacity is twice that of the standard Starhound Class Viper that you've flown your entire career." "Twice the speed, eh?" Starbuck took a step toward the craft, and hoped that Wilker's lecture wasn't going to last too long. "Not only that, but this marks the formal unveiling of something I've had in development for a long time: the C.O.R.A. system." "C.O.R.A.?" Starbuck frowned. "My voice-activated computer system. It is specially designed to handle all aspects of flight, enabling you to go into extended sleep mode for a long-range mission. It can also respond to all your direct commands and ensure that you're capable of outrunning anything the Cylons or any other known hostile craft could conceivably throw at you." "Sounds fascinating, Doc, but we hotshot space jockeys don't need all that electronic felgercarb." Wilker bristled considerably. "I resent that, Lieutenant. I think you'll find that even for a hotshot space jockey, these advancements can come in handy and, if push comes to shove, they can even save your life!" "Easy there, Doc. I know you have the best interest of Mankind at heart." Starbuck mounted the steps and settled into the cockpit of his viper. Apollo decided he needed to re-enter the conversation and keep Wilker from having a blowout. "Okay, Starbuck, once you're launched, switch on your short-range marker beacon so we can track you. Other than that, no transmissions unless it's absolutely necessary, and even then only in full-scrambled code, as we don't want the Cylons to track your signal back." He then lowered his voice to a dead serious tone. "And Starbuck, if you should make Cylon contact---" "I know," the brash warrior held up a hand. "Then this becomes a one-way voyage, since we don't want them tracking me back to the Fleet." "Actually, Lieutenant, you don't know!" Wilker haughtily protested. "That's what the C.O.R.A. system does---it gives this Viper additional speed and maneuvers so you can totally confuse any Cylon from figuring out which direction you've gone off in once you elude them." "You don't say." Starbuck looked down at him. "Well, maybe there is something to be said for electronic felgercarb after all. Did you say twice as fast?" "I did," Wilker beamed as Apollo stepped from the Viper. "It has a second pulse generator in all three engines which gives you the additional engine space and the additional speed. You'll fall in love with it." "Don't be too sure." Starbuck frowned and took a micron to look at the rear of the Viper craft. "I don't see any modifications for that kind of engine expansion. Externally, I can't tell this bird from any other Starhound Viper." "We didn't make any external modifications because we felt none were necessary." "If I remember my physics correctly, that means you sacrificed something in order to accommodate the additional weight," Starbuck said as he strapped himself in place and prepared to close the cockpit canopy. "What did you sacrifice?" "The laser generators," Wilker said casually. "Oh," Starbuck said as he hit the button and the canopy began to lower. It was halfway down when the implications of what the Electronics Scientist had just said hit him like a Cylon bomb on a battlestar's hull. "Sure, that makes sense," he said to himself. "Remove the laser generators to cut down on the weight and---you're unarmed!" The canopy sealed shut before Starbuck could finish his protest. He could see Apollo and Boomer standing over there grinning at him, in what he knew was their way of wishing him luck and a safe return. The sight of Wilker preening in delight over the fact that his new inventions were being put to use, made Starbuck wish he could make a rude gesture at the Electronics Scientist. Resigned to his fate, he powered up the switches and ten microns later, the Viper craft roared down the launch tube and into the openness of space. ***** Apollo and Boomer wasted no time walking away from Dr. Wilker, since the Electronic Scientist's lecture had come off as jarring to the both of them. "This mission makes no sense, if you ask my opinion," Boomer said. "I'm as awestruck by hi-tech progress as Wilker is, but this doesn't seem like the best way to show it off, especially when it leaves him totally unarmed." "I totally agree with you, Boomer," Apollo nodded as they reached the turbo lift. "Just sending two or three of us on a regular patrol sweep ought to be enough. I guess it's the whole sudden unknown challenge of the Alpha Quadrant that makes the Commander a bit restless and willing to try something different. "I suppose you're right," Boomer said as he tapped the button and the lift ascended. "I got to be honest, leaving the home quadrant for the last time kind of drove it home that we're never going to see anything familiar again, not in our lifetimes anyway." "I came to terms with that a long time ago," Apollo said. "I'm glad we finally got it over with, though. I'll feel better once home becomes a distant and fading memory." "Well, just because you're willing to forget the past doesn't mean I am," Boomer said as the turbo-lift came to a halt. "I still dream about having a furlon back on Caprica, only each time I dream the images become hazy and when I wake up I keep trying to force myself to remember what it was like because I refuse to forget what it was like. If our generation isn't fated to find Earth, then we can't let our children and our descendants forget about what the worlds we came from were like." "You've got a point there, buddy," Apollo said as they stepped into the corridor, although he had no intention of following that advice when it came to Boxey. The last thing he wanted to do was remind Boxey too much of the "good old days" that he'd experienced when he was young, and risk opening up all kinds of inner trauma. Especially if there were still demons in his mind about the death of his mother that he had yet to conquer. "How 'bout a round in the Club?" Boomer asked. "Think I'll take a rain check on that," Apollo said. "I'd better call it a day. See you tomorrow." "Damn right," the dark-skinned warrior nodded as they went their separate ways. ***** Chapter Four: C.O.R.A. And Starbuck Starbuck was impressed. As soon as he'd set the viper on course he could immediately tell the difference between it and the run-of-the-mill viper. The handling was far smoother, and it almost gave him the sensation of sliding across a surface of ice with no bumps whatsoever as he continued to pick up speed. "So far, so good," Starbuck said. "Okay, baby, let's see what you can really do." The impetuous warrior hit his turbo thrusters to the maximum setting and felt a sensation of speed he'd never experienced in his life before. And what made it all the more exhilarating was how smooth and easy it felt. For more than a centon, he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of the Viper, taking it through a series of rolls, loops and banks in the process. "Whoooo-hahhhhhh!" he let out an excited whoop. "Wilker, you are a genius for making them fast. But let's see if your little computer can top that!" He then activated the computer control switch on the front of the dash, clearly marked by the acronym C.O.R.A. Starbuck was then startled to hear a feminine voice fill the cockpit." "Your wish is my command, sugar." Abruptly, he saw the control stick move itself to the left and Starbuck felt himself thrown back as the viper went off at the same fast speed he had managed a centon before. Only this time, the viper was going in a series of far more rapid maneuvers and rolls than he'd been able to execute. "Holy---Frack, come on, stop! You're gonna make me sick! Back to normal speed and heading now!" There was an almost sarcastic edge in the voice. "Whatever you wish, honey." Starbuck glared at the computer in annoyance. "Suppose you try addressing me as Lieutenant Starbuck? Or sir. There's a certain protocol to this sort of---" "Nertz!" replied the computer. "Who are you trying to impress Starbuck? I've read through your record and, it seems to me, protocol and dignity are things that you steer clear of. "Two people traveling in a small intimate vehicle shouldn't be so damn formal, anyway." '"You've got access to my personal records? That's not standard operating procedure." "And I'm not standard equipment," the feminine voice retorted. "Now stop being a bore and let me introduce myself. My name's C.O.R.A.---" "I know that," he cut in with disgust. "Short for Computer/Oral Response Activated," it went on. "I'm programmed to respond instantly to all your needs. I'm also to keep you amused over the lengthy duration of our prolonged voyage." "Great!" Already Starbuck was wondering if Wilker had lost his sanity to come up with something like this. "Already you've been more fun than a barrel of siminoids, trust me." A forlorn sigh emitted from the terminal. "I would advise you to cease your hostility, as it will not help our working relationship, which is vital to our mission's success." "All right, all right, I apologize. Go ahead." Starbuck couldn't believe he was having this kind of conversation with a computer. The only time he'd gone through something similar was when he'd been a prisoner aboard Baltar's baseship and had an interesting talk with the second-in-command, a more sophisticated Cylon designated Lucifer, who possessed normal speech, unlike the common centurion. But to hear a normal voice coming from a computer terminal was more surreal to him than hearing one from a moving robot. Starbuck's forward scanners switched on by themselves and he could now see a detailed readout showing his viper proceeding in the direction of a nearby star system. "We are on Delta vector eight, heading, eight, six, two for the sector quadrant containing the binary star system in which five asteroids are located, one of which is listed in Colonial Star Maps as Destructon asteroid. I've activated my sensors and am probing the area where the Galactica's rather limited scanners detected lifeforms." "Ah! Vanity, thy name is C.O.R.A." "Quiet please, I'm scanning." "Oh do forgive me," Starbuck said with amusement but inside, he was feeling very uneasy. The more he heard this female voice with its sarcastic personality, the more he found himself wondering if the original Cylon race of reptiles had started out with computers like this when they began the process that led to the creation of the Cylon robot... and the eventual downfall of their race. Some new scanning data appeared on the dashboard readout and Starbuck could see two contacts. "I'm picking up two unidentified sublight vehicles. Bearing is Omega One, Delta eight heading away from Destructon. Shall we poke our nose into it further, Starbuck?" Starbuck hesitated for an instant and then nodded, "That's what we're here for, C.O.R.A. But if these unidentified objects turn out to be Cylons, I'm gonna feel downright silly about not having any weapons." "Why do we need weapons? We've got enough speed to outrun anything in the universe." "I'll believe that when it happens." C.O.R.A snorted. "Nothing to worry about, love. Just hang on and I'll bring us close enough to a more definite identification." Abruptly, the viper accelerated to maximum speed, and again Starbuck felt his unease increase, since he was no longer in actual control of the craft. "Will slow to sublight speed in five microns to avoid detection by either craft, and we can determine what they are." "Who they are," he impatiently corrected. "Sorry," there was little sense of being apologetic in C.O.R.A.'s voice. "Going sublight now. Will have visual scan identification on screen in five...four...three...two...one...now!" Abruptly, the viper slowed down and an instant later, Starbuck could see both ships appear on his viewscreen. One of them looked vaguely familiar, as though it were an ancient version of a viper craft that he had once seen in a museum or at an Armament Day parade on Caprica. The other had bulkier contours and was less familiar "They're ancient," he said aloud. "I'd estimate," said the computer, "that both the shuttle and the pursuit ship date back to the Sixth Millennium at least. Don't ask me where in Hades they came from." "It isn't likely, though, that they're Cylons." "Unless the Cylons have had some budget cuts we don't know about, no." "That shuttle's unarmed, and I don't much like the idea of an unarmed craft being chased by a fighter." Starbuck took a quick drag on his fumarello. "And it's going to futz up my report on the life forms hereabouts if somebody kills some of 'em." "I have a plan, Bucky. Suppose we--" "Don't," Starbuck warned, "Ever call me Bucky. If it happens again, I'm shutting you off! " "What then? Starsy?" "Lieutenant Starbuck, sir. Try that." "All right, Lieutenant Starbuck, sir." Again there was nothing apologetic in the tone. Had this programmed personality been designed for 100% attitude and 0% humility? "I'm open to suggestions, if you've got any." Starbuck kept his eyes glued to the screen and saw the ancient version of a viper open fire on the shuttle. Whoever the pilot was, his aim was terrible, as the shots missed. Clearly, the craft was not equipped with an accurate attack computer. "You got a life form scan for either of them?" "Affirmative. One human in each craft." "Human," Starbuck's eyes widened. "Makes sense, I suppose. This was part of the Colonial Frontier a long time ago, so maybe it's had some remnants that have survived all these hundreds of yahrens." He paused. "How can we give some cover for that shuttle?" I was about to suggest a high-speed flyby, Lieutenant Starbuck, sir," said the computer. "We'll kick in our second booster within fifty metrons and force the fighter off course. Should also scare the poggies out of him." Starbuck stared dubiously at the computer again. C.O.R.A had just uttered every clich‚ a hotshot pilot in a bad video-com entertainment production might have said, and to hear it come from this soft-spoken but sardonic female voice made it sound even more absurd. Wilker, you are a candidate for the loony bin, he thought. "Tell you what," said Starbuck, gripping the controls. "Give me complete control when I make the pass so I can be sure I avoid a collision. Release controls." "But it's considerably more efficient if my control is maintained!" "Release 'em!" Starbuck raised his voice angrily. C.O.R.A. sighed. "Released, Lieutenant Starbuck, sir." Feeling grateful that he had control again, Starbuck grabbed the control stick and took his viper in on a heading that would take him straight over the top of the ancient fighter craft that dated back more than one thousand yahrens in Colonial history. ***** The pilot of the rattletrap fighter sat hunched in his seat. He was a thickset man of sixty, dressed in trousers and a tunic, both of a filthy off-white color. His sandy-dark hair was tied back with a twist of crimson cord. On one breast of his tunic was a starburst emblem. There was an oily, smoky smell in the battered cockpit. The image of the pursued shuttle showed fuzzy on the grime-smeared screen of the dash scanner. "Aha! I gotcha now, Burglar! You're not gonna get away this time!" the fighter pilot promised the blurred image of his prey. He reached again toward the triggering mechanism of his guns. "This'll fix...what in hellfire?" Something, a fighter ship maybe, had come whizzing across his stern. The ship, like nothing he'd ever seen before, had sent a dazzling explosion of white searing from its engines. Dazzled, confused, the pilot tried a wobbling maneuver that was intended to get him away from there. By the time he regained control of his fighter, there was no sign of the shuttle he'd been chasing, and no trace of the new craft that had come flashing out of nowhere at him. With a hand that was shaking slightly, he activated his talkmike. "This is Captain Kraspo," he said, anger and perplexity mixing in his voice. "I've lost contact with the suspect ship and am now returning to Destructon." "What in hellfire happened out there?" asked the voice on the other end of the subspace radio. "I got buzzed by some joker in a souped-up rocket, just when I had Burglar in my sights," Kraspo replied. "Probably working with her, I figure." "Sounds like trouble to me," said the man on Destructon. "Sounds like? It is trouble, trooper boy! I want an all points bulletin on these ships issued for all squad craft on the double!" ***** As soon as Starbuck's viper passed over, he could see the disorienting effect he'd created on the pilot. The fighter abruptly swerved out of control and lost its sense of direction, while ahead, the shuttle peeled off in the direction of the second asteroid. Starbuck pulled up on the stick and retreated to what he knew would be a safe distance that would keep him out of scanning range of the fighter, which he could now see had recovered its bearings and was headed back in the direction of the larger Destructon asteroid. Clearly, it had lost track of the shuttle and had decided to abandon its pursuit. "Well," Starbuck smiled in satisfaction. "Not bad, if I do say so." "You were fifty-two metrones away when you hit your booster." Immediately, the exasperation returned to Starbuck. "It worked!" "It worked---but rather sloppily." The brash warrior rolled his eyes in disgust. "Listen, C.O.R.A, let's get something straight---" "Fighter is disengaging and returning to Proteus. Shuttlecraft sustained damage from one hit and is landing on second asteroid, dead ahead." "I can see that!" Starbuck felt his anger increase. "Do you have to repeat everything for me? I've got a brain, you know, so just let me figure out how to handle this." Frak! Patrolling with a piece of space scum like Quanto would be preferable to this, he thought as he checked the scanner and saw the shuttle set down on the unnamed second asteroid. "Follow that shuttle," he said finally. "May I please land us so I don't have to go through a bouncer?" Starbuck came within a fraction of exploding. "No, you may not! Just give me the damn vectors for a landing!" "Vectors displayed. And please try not to jolt my chips when you set us down." Lords of Kobol, if I don't get out of this ship for a few microns and get away from this insufferable nag, I'm going to return to the Galactica without my sanity! Starbuck thought as he took the viper in on a heading that would set him down near the enigma that was the damaged shuttle. ***** On the Galactica's bridge, Adama decided it was time to check on the early status of Recon Viper One before he turned in. He made his way over to Omega's station and looked down. "Preliminary indication, please." "Beacon indicates Lieutenant Starbuck has approached Destructon system but---" the bridge officer's eyes narrowed, "he appears to be landing." "On Destructon?" Adama frowned. "No," Omega shook his head. "The second asteroid in the system." "Is it capable of sustaining human life?" Omega punched in several buttons to push the scanning features of the Galactica to their maximum forward capacity. "Yes sir, it is." "Good. He must have something worth investigating so he can't be in any danger." The Commander stretched his arms and went back to the upper level where Tigh maintained his vigil. "I'm going to try and squeeze in my sleep period now, Colonel. Don't hesitate to disturb me if the situation justifies it." "Yes sir," Tigh nodded. "We'll continue to monitor the situation." "Are all of the ships in the Fleet out of the asteroid dust cloud?" "Yes sir. The last one got through centons ago." "Then start reactivating our rear scanning beams. We can't let our rear flank stay unmonitored." The Commander then turned and stretched his arms again as he left the Bridge. ***** Chapter Five: Starbuck and Princess Alpha Starbuck unhooked his safety gear and looked out through the cockpit window. "How'd you like the landing, C.O.R.A.?" "It was---passable," answered the computer. The asteroid was bleak, a blend of dark, pocked rock and gray scruffy brush. There was a gaping cave-mouth nearby, and a few indications that, yahrens ago this asteroid had been mined. The downed shuttle was just beyond the next rise. "Atmosphere outside acceptable," said C.O.R.A. "No respirator required." He nodded. "How many people aboard the shuttle?" "One. Human female, twenty-two yahrens of age. Unarmed." Patting his holster, the lieutenant said, "Guess I'll mosey on over and introduce myself to the lady. Seems the neighborly thing to do." "Watch yourself." "I'm touched by your concern." "I don't need you to fly off this hunk of rock, hon," said the computer. "But if I show up back at the Galactica with your lifeless corpse, it'll be a black mark against me." "Fear not, sweet C.O.R.A, I fully intend to return in the same pristine condition I'm in now." He opened the canopy. "Switching all systems, except marker beacon, to standby mode." Starbuck stepped free of the Viper. As his booted feet touched the rocky ground, the canopy whispered shut behind him. He hunched his shoulders once. It was chilly. The sky was pitch black; the stars so spectacular he stopped to take one look in awed wonder at how such a sight seemed from outside a viper cockpit. The abandoned rock/pack-mining droid by the cave opening lay on its side, brush tangled around its battered exterior. Starbuck was still several yards from the downed shuttle, laser gun in hand, when he heard a metallic bonnnng! He approached cautiously. The ship really was a relic, its hull pitted and dented. Two booted feet stuck out from beneath the shuttle. The bonging came from there. An open tool chest sat near the protruding feet. "You here to gawk, guv'nuh? Or are you here to pitch in and help me?" asked the owner of the feet in a voice that spoke Colonial Standard but in an Aquarian accent. What was this 'guv'nuh' business, anyway? Starbuck took a step back. "Help you," he managed to answer. "Jolly good. Hand me that damn drill functional wrench, will you?" From beneath the ship slid a slender young woman of average height. Her trousers were splotched with white paint. A patch of medium-tanned skin showed through a hole in her tunic, and her jacked looked as though it had barely escaped a fire. She was pretty, though; with wide, green-pupiled almond eyes and long beach-sand blonde hair. "Are you through ogling me?" Starbuck considered her question. "For now," he answered and passed her the tool she'd requested. ***** The young woman wiped the heel of her hand across her perspiring forehead, leaving behind a fresh gritty streak. "That ought to do it. The damage done by my quick landing's all fixed up," she said, giving the shuttle a kick and then tossing the electrowrench she'd been using to Starbuck. "Be a love and pack that up for me, will you?" "Who was that on your tail?" He set down the wrench in the tool locker. She shrugged. "Pirate. He's from the Destructon system and let me tell you there's some nasty mercenary buggers out there, some of them in cahoots with slavers. I don't know what the deuce made me cross this asteroid system anyway." She held out a grease-stained right hand. "Princess Alpha, at your service." "Princess Alpha? I don't---" "Princess is just my nickname, self-appointed title and whatnot. Just call me Alpha, if it makes you comfy. What's your name?" "Starbuck." Alpha gave a left-shouldered shrug, then brushed her beach-sand blonde hair back. "Strange name you have there, guv'nuh," she observed. "Anyway, thanks for making that pirate bugger off." She yanked the door of her shuttle open and reached inside. Automatically, Starbuck whipped out his pistol. "Hold it!" he barked. "Relax, Starbuck," the young woman said, laughing. "I assure you my intentions toward you are quite honorable." Starbuck tightened his grip on his pistol, "I said hold it!" "Being vigilant are we? I don't blame you. Care for a drink?" He lowered his pistol. "Well, I suppose after our shared ordeal...what in hellfire's that?" She'd produced a flask of amber liquor from her cabin. Pulling the cork out with her teeth, she took a swig. "Ambrosa," she answered as she wiped the flaskmouth with the tattered sleeve of her jacket. "Don't they have it where you hail from?" "Yep. But it's sort of expensive and..." He accepted the bottle and drank. The taste was the most delicious he'd ever known in his life. He'd always read how the older ambrosa was, the more its flavor improved and this surpassed anything he'd ever experienced. "By all that's holy!" he said as he took another swig. "I've got a lot more where that came from, guv'nuh," Alpha said. "And if you're willing to keep your mouth shut, I'd ah...be glad to share my find with you." Starbuck took another sip. "This stuff is amazing," he said. "And from the taste of it, more than a hundred yahrens old." "Five hundred, to be exact." Starbuck's eyes widened. "Five hundred? That's impossible. There hasn't been stuff like this around for ages." "You never did tell me where you hail from," the woman eyed him with growing amusement. Starbuck ignored her statement. "Where did you get this? It can't be real." "It's real." The warrior grinned. "Oh, I get it! Alpha, Princess of the Bootleggers, right?" "Not exactly. What you're drinking there is a bonus; part of my payment for delivering my load of spare agro parts to the farmers on Bris." "Bris?" Already he knew that Alpha couldn't be telling the truth, since the Star Maps indicated no other settlement other than Destructon in this region, certainly no other one capable of being shuttled to in the woman's ancient ship. "Can't say I've ever heard of it." "It's a very small and primitive settlement that's never seen the likes of the beauty you're flying. I caught a glimpse of it up there, by the way." "I'm sure they haven't." Starbuck finished the bottle. "You know, Starbuck, I think I have time to take a quick look at your ship," the young woman said. "Well, it's...different, but..." Alpha laughed. "Don't you trust me?" Starbuck thought for a micron. Her tall-tale about the human settlement didn't sit well with him, but, on the other hand, if she were going to make a disagreeable move, she would surely have done so by now. "Okay," he said. "C'mon. I'll give you a short tour." He noticed, as she walked beside him toward the viper, that he was only slightly taller than she was, and the hair was the same color. When they passed the abandoned mine, Starbuck asked. "Does this particular asteroid have a name?" "If it does I wouldn't know it, Starbuck. I'm merely passing through." "How did you know where to land?" "Intuition. You bloody well need it when you fly an old clunker like mine," she explained. "I've got emergency landing spots charted all over my run," Alpha said. "But I can't fill you in on the local history of a damned one." They reached the Viper and Starbuck opened the door. "Welcome to my home away from home," he gestured at the interior with his hand. She moved up beside him, glancing inside. "Damn, that's really something," she said admiringly. "Before you rush back to your shuttle," he said. "I'd like to know how much ambrosa you're hauling. It's got to be worth a fortune!" Already Starbuck wondered if he'd stumbled on something that would help him net a lifetime's worth of dinners and private rooms on the Rising Star. "Well," Alpha said, "more than you or I could haul out of here, but this ship doesn't look like it was made for cargo, it looks more like if was made for---" She looked back at Starbuck. "Wait a centon. You're not a bloody pirate yourself, are you? You're not going to kill me, are you?" "Heyyy! Don't be frightened. I'm a little leery of pirates myself. How many of those guys are there, that were chasing you?" She turned away and looked up at the stars. "It's a pretty rough sector you know. Plenty of asteroids around where they can hide and come out and rob and maim you." She topped and turned back to Starbuck. "You wouldn't be some advance scout for some kind of convoy, would you?" Starbuck chuckled. "No, no, this would be a very bad place to bring an unarmed ship, wouldn't it?" Starbuck threw the empty bottle down into the brush, wishing he could look inside that shuttle. In his mind's eye, he could see an awesome number of piled cases containing dozens of bottles that an Elite Class member would pay at least five thousand cubits for just one. "What kind of range do you think these pirates have?" With Starbuck's back turned to her, the woman abruptly picked up the discarded bottle and brought it crashing down on the back of his head. In an instant, the warrior crashed to the ground, unconscious. The young blonde woman stepped back from Starbuck's sprawled, unconscious body. Hands on hips, she said, "Sorry about that, love, since you don't seem like a bad sort. But Kraspo is most likely still hunting for me out there and I need something a hell of a lot faster than my old shuttle." Bending, she grabbed him under the arms and dragged him across the rocky ground until he was a safe distance from the ship. She turned and walked over to the ship. ***** Athena had spent nearly two centons conversing with Cassiopeia over several glasses of ambrosa and three helpings of protein before they finally agreed to return to the Galactica and part company. The both of them felt they'd exhausted the number of unflattering things they could possibly say about Starbuck. And ultimately, the both of them found themselves parting with a mutual admiration and respect for each other, despite the circumstances of the evening. Despite three glasses of ambrosa, Athena didn't feel the least bit impaired, and she still felt too much pent-up vim and vigor inside her to think of turning in. She decided to go back to the Bridge and resume her ship. "Colonel Tigh," she said as she arrived, I'd like to monitor the status of Recon Viper One." The executive officer nodded. "I have no objections. Omega could sure use the relief, though." Athena found the Bridge Officer grateful to finally give up his vigil watching the silent screen. Omega gave her a full briefing on everything that had happened up to now, and then left the bridge to begin his own sleep period. Ten centons passed as Athena kept her eye on the asteroid where the viper's beacon continued to flash. Then she noticed it move, indicating that it had taken off. ***** Alpha climbed into the cockpit, placing the discarded helmet on her head then settled in at the controls. Before sealing the canopy shut and saying a prayer to the Lords that she had failed to honor for so much of her life, she took a farewell look out at Starbuck. "You'll be okay till we come back here for my cargo," she said. "Right now, I have to concentrate on ditching that bloke Kraspo." Hunching in the seat, she studied the controls. Brow furrowed, she drummed her grease-stained fingers on the dash. "Sure, I can handle this thing," Alpha decided after a moment or two. She hit the launch control button. In an instant, she could feel a surge of power unlike any other she'd known in her life as the Recon Viper took off from the asteroid and assumed an uneven heading. "Blimey!" she whispered. "I say! I had absolutely no idea the Colonies had become so advanced after all this time. They must have a bloomin' paradise back there by now." But she knew that if she didn't figure out how the rest of these systems worked, her flight would be a short one, and with it, her life would probably come to an end. She began to hit the various switches and knobs she could see, hoping that one of them would give her clear instruction on how to maneuver this craft. Finally, her dainty hand swept over the switch labeled C.O.R.A. "Finally decided to turn me back on, eh?" Alpha looked about the cockpit in stunned disbelief, and it took her a half-centon to finally realize where the voice had come from. "Shall I scan for that fighter?" Immediately, Alpha began to relax as she realized she'd found the key to what she was looking for. "Negative," she said. "Who the dickens are you?" a cold air abruptly entered C.O.R.A's voice. "Can you fly this ship?" "Affirmative," the cold air persisted. "Who are you?" "All right then, control is yours," she said. "Assume course to asteroid mass one zero, seven, seven five on the far edge of this binary system, bearing delta seven." "Computed," C.O.R.A. said. "Where's Starbuck?" Alpha ignored her question. "Prepare to transmit intergalactic signal on narrow beam." "Affirmative," C.O.R.A persisted. "What've you done with him, you floozie?" "Just do as you're told," Alpha settle back and smiled. "And thank you very much." ***** Commander Adama moved through the bridge of the Galactica until he stood beside Athena. "What's the latest word on Lieutenant Starbuck?" "The short-range marker indicates Recon Viper One is climbing back into---wait a centon!" She watched the beacon assume a new heading, taking it in the direction of something that the Galactica's sensors had not previously noticed. "It's heading for a larger, denser group of asteroids located on the back side of this binary star system." "Maintain tracking," the commander said to his daughter. He may be on to something." "Probably a redhead." "What was that?" "Thinking aloud, sorry. Rigel," she called over, "does Stellar Cartography have readings on that other group of asteroids?" "Negative," the young flight corporal answered. "They're not on the charts at all. Destructon is the only one named." "I see. Thanks." She shook her head slightly. "I wonder what he sees there?" Resting a hand on her shoulder, the commander leaned closer to the screen. Frowning at the information being displayed there, he said, "I don't quite understand this." "Recon Viper One is transmitting, but..." "Yes." Adama's eyes narrowed. "It's a long range signal." "And it's not scrambled either," Athena added. "It's...some kind of code being sent on a narrow beam." Colonel Tigh came over, a look of horror coming over his face. "What's that fool doing? He might as well be broadcasting a signal direct to the Cylons!" "Perhaps," suggested a baffled Adama, "his short-pulse transmitter has somehow been rendered inoperative." "It's possible," said Athena, stroking her cheek as she watched the console screen. "But then...why would he use an unknown code to send an unscrambled message?" "I suggest," said Tigh, "that we check the Cylon codes." Nodding, Adama said, "We've got to check every possibility." "I think it's obvious what's happened, Commander," said the black colonel. We have to assume that either a Cylon or Cylon sympathizer is now in control of Recon Viper One." "It could be Starbuck," said Athena, "who's sending this message, Colonel. True, we don't know why he's using this particular code, but maybe---" "If that isn't a message to the Cylons," said Tigh, "it's at least a beacon that can lead them to this sector." Athena punched instructions into her machine. A moment passed and then her answer appeared. "Whatever the code is, it doesn't match any known Cylon patterns," she said. "With all due respect, Colonel, we cannot assume any such thing!" "Just a centon," Adama held up a hand to signal for order. "Whether this matches something the Cylons use or not is irrelevant at this point." "Exactly!" Tigh emphasized. "That message is being beamed back into the home quadrant, toward the Colonies. Even if it's not a message to them, it ultimately acts as a beacon for the Cylons to guide them here, right to scanning range of the entire Fleet! We have to stop that transmission!" Athena said nothing, glancing up at her father. Commander Adama said, "Alert my son, immediately. Him and...Lieutenant Boomer. They both know what they'll have to do." "Yessir!" Tigh said alertly as he moved off. ***** Apollo had returned to his quarters a centar earlier and found Boxey sound asleep. A book lay open on his chest, indicating that the little tyke had been reading it before he'd fallen asleep. Gingerly, Apollo picked it up so as not to disturb his son, and he frowned. The book was an illustrated edition of The Facts of the All Seeing Primal, an addendum to the Book of the Word that had never been accepted as part of the Holy Writings by established theologians because the earliest known copies were not considered old enough to be considered authentic. But the recent experience on Kobol had laid that controversy to rest, as the ancient ruins had validated everything The Facts of the All Seeing Primal had said about Kobol's last days and the journey of the twelve tribes to the Colonies. Instead of going to bed himself, Apollo sat down in the chair across from Boxey's bed and began to thumb through the volume, finding it fascinating that his son would be reading a book about such a deep subject. Then he remembered that his father likely would have encouraged Boxey to read it, in order to learn more about the origins of mankind, and also have the principles of his people's faith reinforced in him. After flipping through the pages, he realized that this was an adapted version of the Facts, written specifically for young children. Many colorful illustrations filled the volume, depicting scenes of life on Kobol, the decay that led to the death of the mother planet, and the plans to leave Kobol. Maps and space scenes also dotted the pages too. It was definitely an effective way of introducing a young mind to what might have otherwise seemed like a dry piece of text. So fascinated was Apollo by the presentation that he found himself reading it for a full half-centar before he fell asleep in his chair. And then, just a half-centar later, he heard the chime sounding, jolting both him and Boxey awake, and causing Muffit to emit an electronic bark. When he opened the door, he saw a grim-faced Boomer standing in the threshold. "Get yourself ready, buddy," his friend said grimly. Something serious just happened." ***** The two warriors went promptly down to the launch bay, where Apollo and Boomer received a full briefing from Adama over the vid-com unit. As soon as it was over, they went to their vipers and prepared for departure. "It's as bad as it can get," Apollo said. "Because of that long-range transmission, we have to seek out and destroy Recon Viper One." "Shoot first and ask questions later?" Boomer could scarcely believe he was being thrust into this situation. "Aren't we going to at least try to establish communications first?" "Negative," Apollo said firmly. "If that recon viper kicks in those pulse generators, it'll leave us chewing ion vapors in an instant and be out of range. If we get him lined up in our sights, we're only going to have one chance to take him out." "Well, if those are the orders---" Boomer grunted. "What if Starbuck's still in the damn thing?" "He's not, Boomer. It can't be him flying that viper; he wouldn't pull such a foolish stunt." "All the more reason for taking that pilot alive," the dark skinned warrior protested. "He can lead us to Starbuck." "Boomer, that isn't our first concern!" Apollo raised his voice as he sealed the canopy of his viper shut. "Our first concern is cutting off that transmission and making sure the Cylons don't have a beacon to this sector of space where they'd be able to scan the Fleet. Determining Starbuck's fate is purely secondary right now." "Okay," Boomer closed his own canopy too. "But when we do achieve that objective, do we at least try to find out whether he's alive or---" "Not now, Boomer! We've got to get going and fast! So let's end this pointless conversation and get started." "Give me a break, Apollo!" "It is so ordered!" The fight was gone from Boomer's voice. "Yessir!" he muttered. And then, both vipers launched. ***** Chapter Six: The Long Arm Of The Law Far away, in a sector of space that was behind the asteroid dust cloud already crossed by the Colonial Fleet, Lucifer passed through the sliding glass doors that led to Baltar's throne room. He decided that prudence dictated putting no spin on the information he was about to present, and to let the commander make his own judgment. At this point, the IL Cylon knew that such deference was the only thing that Baltar expected of him. Even though it had been nearly two sectars since the Battle of Kobol, and Baltar had long since recovered from his injuries sustained in the wreckage of the collapsed tomb of the Ninth Lord, Lucifer had the sense that Baltar's anger had still not completely faded over the incident. If Lucifer wanted to avoid some direct reprogramming to his circuits that would all be to ensure a permanent fate for him as Baltar's obedient servant, with all hopes of future ambition permanently removed, then the more deference he showed the traitor the better. So be it, the IL had long ago decreed to himself with resignation. He at least had the luxury of knowing that as a Cylon, he could theoretically outast Baltar come what may. "By your command," he said as he reached the base of the throne. It turned around slowly, all its servomechanisms softly purring, and Baltar gazed down at him with the same demonic glare Lucifer had known for the last two sectars. "Speak." "A curious development. We have picked up a message aimed in our direction that is being transmitted in some strange and totally unknown code." "Totally unknown?" the traitor seemed unimpressed. "You have cross-checked this code through all the manuals, have you not?" "Indeed we have, Baltar, but the results continue to leave us baffled. It is not one of our codes, nor does it match any known code used by the Colonial Fleet in the last several yahrens, for which we do have full and complete records." "It is unlikely to offer us any clue to the Galactica's whereabouts, then," Baltar said. "Nevertheless, launch a probe group of fighters to investigate. No more than three, so we don't arouse suspicion." "By your command." As was his custom of the last two sectars, Lucifer didn't bother to challenge any of Baltar's orders. The IL Cylon turned and departed. ***** Starbuck made a racket. It was a rude racket, suggesting disappointment with his current position in life. He had just awakened to find himself sprawled, face down, on the uncomfortable surface of a small-time asteroid in the middle of nowhere. And there was a sensation of excruciating pain throbbing in his head. "Damn that female crasody!" he muttered as he pushed himself to a sitting position. His stomach started doing loops inside him. Lying beside him was a broken ambrosa bottle. After making another unhappy noise, Starbuck got to his feet. Slowly, he turned toward his viper. "Frack, felgercarb and shit!" he remarked. The ship was gone, C.O.R.A. with it. Starbuck looked up into the dark sky. "Out of the kindness of my heart I stop to aid a damsel in distress," he said in a moderately self-pitying tone. "I try to do a good deed and what does it get me? A lump on the ole noggin." Very gingerly, he touched the spot where Princess Alpha had slugged him. "You are dumb, Starbuck, completely dumb," he muttered, starting to pace. "You trusted a woman who says she's going to a human settlement that doesn't exist. But you open up your ship, show her its luxurious interior and then turn your stupid back on her." He kicked at the dirt, raising a cloud of dust. "Behaved like first orbit cadet. A stranger offers me a drink and before I know it I'm knocked out. Guess I'm lucky she didn't swipe my pants, too." The best thing to do, he decided, was to stop feeling sorry for himself, and quit being mad at Alpha. None of that would get him anywhere. "Hey, at least she was a knockout." It was thoughts like that that'd got him in trouble to begin with. If only Alpha had been a begrimed male spacemariner, he'd never have turned his back. "Right now, hotshot," Starbuck reminded himself, "what we have to do is get off this particular chunk of real estate." Still feeling woozy, he staggered over the rise to Alpha's shuttle. At least it was still there. "Maybe I can track that lady down and retrieve my Viper," he said as he opened the door to the shuttle's smelly cabin. "Yep, that's what I gotta do, all right. Because I sure as Hades don't want to go limping back to the Galactica in this thing and tell 'em a girl barely out of her teens stole a sophisticated warplane." The cabin wasn't much. It reeked of urnitroleum, tylium and old age. A clay flowerpot perched on the control panel, holding what might be an adderanium. A length of scarlet ribbon was tangled around the talkmike. The control panel itself seemed like a lost cause. It was so out of date and in need of maintenance that he found it amazing this ship had been able to fly at all. "Flying this clunker is going to be like taking part in a historical pageant on the early days of space flight," he said with exasperation. "Of all the times for me to wish I still had that blasted C.O.R.A." Starbuck lit a fumarello and settled into the pilot's seat. He activated the ignition thrusters, hoping they would catch, but nothing happened. It occurred to him that Alpha, who'd probably been planning to steal his ship all along, had only pretended the shuttle was fixed. "Frak! She got me again!" he yelped, sighing out smoke. ***** Starbuck just about had the damage to the engines of the ancient shuttle repaired. He came sliding from underneath the crate to get a new wrench. "I can still catch up with that...that...oh- oh!" A thick, weatherbeaten man in dirty white clothes was standing beside the shuttle. There was a silvery starburst emblazoned on the left breast pocket of his jacket and a laser pistol in his right hand. "You're a new one," he said. "I am, yes. A privateer actually, simply passing through your galaxy." "Where's Burglar?" "Burglar?" "Where is she?" "Oh! You must mean Princess Alpha, Mr..." "Captain," the weatherbeaten man corrected. "Trooper Captain Kraspo." "I'm Starbuck," he said pleasantly, with a friendly and cordial smile. "See, I set down here in my own ship to see what was wrong with this shuttle and...well, what with one thing and another I ended up stranded. So I've been putting this crate back into---" Kraspo ignored Starbuck's story. "All right, so she's calling herself by another name. She's still Burglar to me. So tell me where she is---and I mean now!" Starbuck said. "Didn't you hear me? I said I didn't know." "Maybe when I haul your astrum back to Destructon you'll be in a more loquacious mood." "Somehow I don't think so," said Starbuck. "The lady in question's got my ship. I haven't, really, much of an idea where she's rocketed off to. You're the local law, huh?" "Are you pretending you don't know that?" Kraspo's laugh was cold and thin. "For Sagan's sake, Kraspo, I'm only passing through." "Captain Kraspo." "Captain Kraspo. The point is, I'm a stranger here myself," said the lieutenant. "And I suppose you don't know what Burglar's tub is hauling?" "She told me it was farm implements," said Starbuck. "All right then, let's have a look at those 'farm implements.'" Kraspo gestured at the shuttle's open cabin doorway with his gun hand. "Won't you take my word for it?" "No, I will not! Now get on in there, Mr. Starbuck. Fast." Shrugging he complied. "Not all that cozy in here, is it?" "Open, very slowly and carefully, that door to the cargo chamber." "Okay." Starbuck crossed to the metal door and tugged it open. Inside the hold were dozens of wooden crates; each of them marked Agritools in airbrushed stenciled letters. "See? Just like a said." "Bring one of those crates outside." Picking up a crate, Starbuck hefted it out into the open. "Funny how farm tools gurgle when you heft 'em," he observed, depositing the crate on the ground. "Use that crowbar from the tool chest there," ordered Kraspo, continuing to point with the gun barrel. "Open the thing." "You know, I've seen farm tools before," said Starbuck, hesitating, "and they're not that exciting." "Open it and quit stalling." "Okay, sure." He used the metal bar to lift the lid off the wooden box. "Damn!" There were no tools inside. Instead he saw eight full bottles of ambrosa resting on straw. "Farm implements, eh?" Kraspo snarled. "You've got a shuttle load full of ambrosa that came from Destructon. I saw that broken bottle back over the ridge so don't try to tell me you didn't know that. Bootlegging and lying to a Trooper carry stiff penalties Know what they are?" "No, but I'll bet I'm gonna find out," answered Starbuck. He stooped and picked up the crate that didn't contain farm tools. "I suppose you'll want to take this along as evidence," he said, carrying it closer to the lawman. "Leave it lay!" ordered Kraspo. "I'm sending a crew back here to pick up the whole damn cargo." "Can't collar me in without evidence. Better take at least this one along in your---" "Drop it!" "Very well, if you insist." He appeared to stumble and when he dropped the heavy crate, it landed on Kraspo's foot. "You stupid---" Dodging to one side, Starbuck then dived at him. Kraspo's gun had swung wide at the moment the crate hit him. Before he could swing it back toward Starbuck, the warrior jabbed him hard in the stomach with an elbow. Then he grabbed Kraspo's gun wrist. "Hate to resist arrest," said Starbuck apologetically, "but you leave me no other choice." Using Kraspo's arm as a lever, he flipped the man to the ground. Kraspo's breath came whooshing out on impact. Starbuck wrenched the laser gun from his grip and flung it to the side. Then he delivered two impressive jabs to Kraspo's chin. The thick lawman went slack, settled out on his back. After gathering up the gun, Starbuck dragged the unconscious man over to the shuttle. "Think I saw some rope in the cabin that'll do for trussing you up for a spell," he said. "Then, since borrowing seems so popular in these parts, I'm going to take your fighter and go find the dear young lady who started this whole frakkin' mess." ***** Chapter Seven: C.O.R.A Is Recovered "Man, what a clunker," remarked Starbuck as he set a landing pattern for the borrowed fighter. He'd been able to use the old-fashioned tracking gear in the lawman's ship to get a fix on his missing Viper. The craft had landed on a lush green planetoid. "Boy, I can't wait to meet that thieving she-lupus again," he said, lighting a fresh fumarello. "Conks me on the dome, leaves me on a dinky asteroid with her disabled shuttle, and leaves me holding a cargo of hot ambrosa." He wondered where the stuff came from. Aged ambrosa of that quality wasn't easy to come by and here was this double-dealing lass rattling around with a shipload of the stuff. He was coming in above fields of grain and high, nearly orange grass that fluttered like pennants in a mild breeze. And there, in a clearing between the fields and a sprawling forest, sat his Viper. Stabuck took a satisfied drag on his fumarello. "Gotcha now, Princess Alpha!" Starbuck set the borrowed fighter down a hundred yards from his recon ship. He stayed in the cabin for a moment, narrowing his eyes and scanning the area. A faint breeze rustled the high grass on his left. To his right a forest of tangle-branched trees rose high and silent. Overhead three pale green birds circled and drifted. "Let's have our showdown and get it over with." He climbed free of the fighter, gun drawn and stood facing the Viper. The cockpit door hung open. There was no sign of anyone inside. Cautiously, Starbuck approached the ship. The green birds high above cawed and shrieked. The whole area felt empty, deserted. "Where in Hades is she?" He stalked up to the cockpit, breath held, and looked inside. It was empty. "C.O.R.A.," he said to the computer, "what's up?" The computer responded. "Starbuck? Is it really you?" "The one and only." "It's sure a load off my mind. I really thought that blonde hussy had---" "Where is she?" "Are you okay, hon? I've been worried silly, because I didn't know if she'd done you in or simply abandoned you. I've been sitting here trying to figure out how to repair the Viper so I could go back and---" "Repair it?" "Now, don't lose your temper, hon. There was a little, very minor, damage when I forced the ship to come down here instead---" "Forced it?" He climbed into the cockpit. "I have to tell you," the computer said. "It was a real uphill battle. Even though I'm only a computer I have to abide by the basic rules of robotics. Therefore I had to make a choice between serving her and---" "You mean you sabotaged things after she hijacked this crate?" "I feel awful about it, since I'm not supposed to do things like that." "Where was she trying to get to?" "To this planetoid, but about a hundred hectares to the south. I threw a spanner into that little plan. My idea was to make the wench think the ship was on the fritz to get her outside of it." "Where is she now? Did you do something to her?" "Is that concern I sense?" "Just tell me where she is." "Heading for home on foot," answered C.O.R.A. "It's her intention, or so I gathered when she was ranting at me and the ship, to get some of her cronies to come back and repair the Viper. But don't bank on that. I doubt she'll make it home." Starbuck blew out smoke. "Why not?" "This is apparently hostile country for her. So it's nearly certain she'll be killed by some rival faction or other...Sorry, I don't have all the details, but it's really not that important. One little group preys on another; that's the way of the world," said C.O.R.A." "You let that kid walk off into the wilds alone?" "Starbuck, she's your enemy." He scowled. "Yeah, that's half right," he admitted. "But I can't just let Princess Alpha get killed, even if she is an outlaw." "Princess Alpha? You mean you've gone gaga over royalty?" "That's only an honorary title. And underneath that hard, grease-stained exterior, she's just a young woman who---" "---left you for dead and stole me, hon." "Aw, she didn't bop me that hard." "I can scarcely believe my ears." "You don't have ears." "Metaphorically speaking, I do. As a warrior you should have arrived here with nothing but revenge and retribution on your mind." "As a matter of fact, C.O.R.A, that's essentially what I was thinking about," he said. "But then...I just can't stand the idea of her being out there in the wilds alone." "You can't be foolish enough to think you can go in after her." "If not me then who? In a way, it's our fault she's in danger." "All right, suppose you do follow her? Whatever it is that's lurking in that wild wood to kill her will just end up killing you as well." "I can take care of myself." "How'd you get here, by the way?" "Borrowed a Trooper's fighter. That other ship we saw." "A Trooper? You've already clashed with an official of the area?" "How long ago did she take off?" "Not long, moments. She headed south." "Okay, wait here, C.O.R.A. I won't be long." "Starbuck," she said as he headed for the doorway. "There's something else you ought to know." "More good news?" "She made a long-range call." "To where? To who?" "To whom is the correct---" "Spare me the grammar lesson and tell me." "She was trying to contact the planet Aquaria." "But that's controlled by the Cylons. She can't be one of their agents." "I personally don' t think she, whatever else awful she is, is a Cylon spy, no. I have the impression she hasn't even heard about the destruction of the Colonies," said Cora. "The code she used, although I haven't been able to break it, isn't one of the Cylons'." Scratching his blonde hair, Starbuck observed, "This is getting goofier and goofier." "Let's forget it and get ourselves off this planetoid right now," suggested the computer. "The Cylons may have used that signal to lead some of their fighters right to us." "That's possible, but I have to find that girl." He dropped from the ship. "See you soon." "You're being very foolish," called C.O.R.A. He moved away from the Viper. ***** Chapter Eight: The Forest And The Trees The woodlands closed in on Starbuck. The thick, twisted branches of the tall trees interlaced high above his head, shutting off most of the light. The brush, in dozens of shades of green and orange, grew thick and tangled on each side of the narrow trail he was following. Far off, almost lost in the dark, straight lines of trees, were faint animal rustlings and the thin cries of strange birds. "Not an ideal spot for a furlon," the lieutenant said to himself. Maybe, as the efficient C.O.R.A had pointed out, this whole thing was stupid. Alpha, after all, seemed to be a pretty spacewise young woman. She could probably take care of herself, even in what was supposed to be hostile country. "I wonder what makes it hostile," Starbuck reflected as he trekked along the forest trail. "Wild animals, wild men...what?" Starbuck continued through the shadowy silence for a while, and then he saw a bulky shape looming up ahead. Easing out his laser gun, he slowed his pace. "Take it easy, Starbuck. It's only jitters," he said a moment later. It was a derelict zaptractor, slumped at the edge of the trail, oxidized and taken over by knobby, large-leaved creepers. Just beyond the ancient tractor the woods ended and lexon after lexon of fields stretched away. Once this was farm land, a cultivated area. But that was a long time ago and the forest had been reclaiming the land for quite a while. The fields were overrun with tall grass and wild flowers. Saplings had begun to grow here and there. About a quarter-hectare to his right stood three low sprawling buildings. Starbuck decided to take a look at them. Weathered and peeling lettering on the front of the three deserted buildings spelled out Merchant Acumen Agroservices Pty. Ltd./Plantation 4A "Business is definitely not booming," observed Starbuck as he wandered from the office to the warehouse. Suddenly, he threw himself flat out on the grass, bringing up his gun hand. There was someone sitting on a wooden chair near the open doorway of the domed warehouse. After watching the figure for a micron, Strabuck realized it wasn't moving at all and didn't seem to be aware of him. Cautiously he got to his feet and moved in closer. It was an old droid, in roughly humanoid shape, clad in the ragged remains of a pair of coveralls. Its gunmetal-gray skin was pitted and stained. One of the plastic eyes was cracked and hung limply from its socket by a coil of multicolored wire. The arms hung like wet noodles at its sides and the droid gave the impression it hadn't moved in yahrens. When Starbuck halted in front of the mechanism, its head gave a creaky nod. "G'day...g'day...g'day..." it croaked in a rusty voice and then ceased to speak or move. "Same to you, guy," said Starbuck. He walked on by and into the warehouse. The high-celinged room was big and empty. A scatter of small, yellow birds was roosting on one of the rafters. Starbuck noticed something on the dusty floor a few yards away. "Hold it," he said, trotting over to it. He knelt and confirmed his initial impression. It was the faded jacked Alpha had been wearing. There were signs in the dust that some kind of struggle had taken place on this spot. Worse, he saw several small splotches of what appeared to be human blood. ***** Apollo spoke into his helmet mike. "Looks like this is the place, Boomer," he said as his Viper circled low over the area on the planetoid where Starbuck's recon ship had sat down. "That's Recon Viper One, as I live and breathe," said Boomer from his ship. "Who do you think that rundown fighter belongs to?" "An antique collector, probably," They'd followed the Viper beacon's signal to the planetoid and now Apollo tried again to try to contact the craft. "Calling Recon Viper One. Starbuck, are you aboard?" "I sure do wish he were, fella," answered a distraught feminine voice. "This is Captain Apollo, from the Battlestar Galactica," he said. "Am I talking to C.O.R.A?" "You certainly are, Captain." "Where's Starbuck?" "It's a long story." "Is he alive?" "He was, and I sincerely hope he still is." "Is it safe to land?" "Oh, yes." "Who does that fighter belong to?" "Well, right now, to Starbuck more or less. He stole it, you see, in order to chase that dreadful outlaw girl who---" "We'll land," Apollo informed her. "Figures there'd be a woman involved in it somehow," commented Boomer. "That's Starbuck for you." "Sure sounds like him," said Apollo. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear the damn computer's got a crush on Starbuck." ***** Apollo sat in the cockpit of the recon ship. Boomer leaned in through the open canopy. "Calm down, C.O.R.A," the captain was telling the hysterical computer. "It's simply that I'm quite concerned about him." "Just fill us in," requested Apollo, "on what happened." "He's gone in search of her." "In search of who?" "In search of whom," corrected C.O.R.A "That awful young woman who calls herself Princess Alpha." "She's the one who borrowed this Viper?" "That's what I've been trying to tell you. The hussy stole it, after poor dear Bucky had tried to help her get off that asteroid." "Did you hear that, Apollo? She called him Bucky!" Boomer laughed. "Where is Starbuck now?" Apollo asked. "Searching for her. I made the mistake...when you're programmed for honesty, it's impossible to tell a lie...I mentioned that she'd have to travel across hazardous country on her way home." "What kind of hazards?" "Insufficient data, I'm afraid," answered C.O.R.A. "Unless, of course you want me to run some scans of the area." "No time for that," he said. "Which way did Starbuck head when he took off after this lady?" "South, you'll see the trail yonder," the computer replied. "I told him it wasn't worth the risk." "As if that could ever stop Starbuck," said Boomer. ***** Chapter Nine: The Pit Starbuck shook the decrepit droid again by its shoulders. "What happened to the girl? What did you see?" The weathered mechanism that sat beside the warehouse door replied, "G'day...g'day..." "C'mon," urged the impatient lieutenant. "You're not completely defunct. You must've seen something." "G'day...mate...everything fair dinkum with you?...Yep...good crop this season...G'day...mate...g'day..." Snorting, Starbuck let the robot fall back into its chair. "Thanks, you sodkicking rivet-head." "...g'day...g'day..." Starbuck stepped clear and began examining the weedy ground around the entrance of the Merchant Acumen warehouse. He saw bootprints from at least two pairs of feet and, unfortunately, a few more sprinkles of fresh blood. "Well that's certainly a trail I can follow," Starbuck said, narrowing his eyes. "I just hope I don't find her surprised corpse at the end of it." Slowly and carefully, he began moving away from the vacant warehouse. "...drop in anytime, you hear?...don't forget some meat for the barbi..." rasped the droid. ***** The forest started closing in on Starbuck, again. The smell of stagnant water was growing in the air. A thin mist came filtering down to him from the treetops. Starbuck whistled for a moment, with his tongue placed against the back of his teeth. The woodlands grew darker and colder. The mist came twisting around his ankles in frayed streamers. The signs were still easy to follow. Two men had passed this way recently, one of them carrying something. Starbuck was pretty sure that something was Princess Alpha. But was she alive...or dead? And how badly was she injured? Shaking his head, he said to himself, "I'm really getting silly as I grow older. What am I doing getting upset and anxious over a girl I don't even know?" And it wasn't as though their brief encounter had been especially friendly or cordial. About the only redeeming feature about the girl who called herself Princess Alpha was that she hadn't whacked him hard enough to crack his skull. "I suppose it's because she's cute," he muttered. The mist swirled even thicker all about him. Up ahead, a mournful bird cried once. Starbuck was going to have a hard time of it when he returned to the Galactica. He'd have to draw upon all his skills in the arts of evasion and propaganda to justify what he was doing now. He grinned. "I wouldn't be living up to my reputation if I didn't go off on---" "Somebody! Anybody!" A woman's voice had called out from somewhere in the misty forest on his right. "Don't let them hurt me!" "Alpha?" he yelled. No reply. Starbuck tugged his laser pistol free of its holster as he left the trail. The bluish mist tattered and broke apart as he pushed his way through it. He had a fair notion of where the cries had come from. "Please help me!" Starbuck couldn't see a damn thing in this thick mist. The voice that was crying for help sounded like Alpha and yet it didn't. "But there can't be two girls in trouble in this same patch of woods." He had to slow down, since he could no longer see more than a a few miles ahead of him. Everything---from his footfalls to the sounds of the forest---was muffled. "Help!" Aiming at the latest call, Starbuck quickened his pace. After just five paces, the ground opened up and swallowed him. ***** She was tall with piercing aquamarine eyes and collar-length downy light-brown hair. She wore dark trousers, a black sleeveless tunic and a thick gunbelt that sported two holsters. The holsters were empty, because the twin laser pistols were in her hands and pointing down at Starbuck. He stood in the deep pit he'd fallen into. He'd discovered, before the appearance of the two-gun maiden, that he could not reach the rim simply by jumping for it. "Forgive me for blunding into your animal snare, miss," he said up at the girl. "If you'll give me a hand getting out, I'll be happy to help you replace all the branches, leaves and tigs back over the top. That way, a real beast that comes strolling by will never know what hit him." "Do you enjoy hearing your own daggit drivel?" "Sure." "That's unfortunate, because I sure as Hades don't!" Starbuck scrutinized her. "Why do I get the feeling you're not very sympathetic to my plight?" "This frakkin' hole was meant for you, whorespawn!" "You did all this just for me? I'm touched." "We got some old droids who do it." "How'd you know I was coming?" "She said you might be." "Alpha? You've got her?" The girl laughed. It wasn't an especially heartwarming laugh. "Same like we got you," she told him and spit into the pit. He dodged, brushing against a black dirt wall and causing a fat wriggling orange worm to come falling free. "Are you going to keep me down here?" "Nah. Smarthate'll be coming to get you in a micron once I signal him." "Smarthate? He doesn't sound like a nice person." "Don't worry, you'll like him. You're going to have lots of fun with him," she promised. "Just like Alpha is." Starbuck clenched his fists and kept himself from saying something strong and angry to her. "I can't wait until..." "Wait until what, whorespawn." "Until I meet Smarthate." Starbuck had been distracted by a silent figure that was sneaking up behind the unsuspecting gun maiden. A figure that was extending an odd metal arm toward her from behind. ***** Chapter Ten: Deep Into Hostile Territory The tall woman, despite Starbuck's best efforts to distract her, finally sensed she was being stalked. She started to turn around, guns swinging up. But the metal arm gave off a sudden harsh humming and a thin beam of purplish light shot out of the pointing forefinger. "Damn you, Thor!' She said only that before she stiffened, tottered backwards and dropped down into Starbuck's pit. He caught her, sort of. When he got up from the broken branches and dirt, the tough gal was stretched out on the ground and both her guns were his. "Don't be frettin' none," said the snady-haired young man standing at the rim of the pit. "Gamma's nothin' but stunned." "I noticed," said Starbuck, eying the fellow and his coppery right arm. "By the way, are you friend or foe?" "Friend, natch." "That's good, because I'd hate to have to use these guns of hers." "Hades Hole, I realize you got no way of knowin if I'm trustworthy or not. But I am." From inside his loose fitting crimson jacket he produced a coil of rope. "Name's Thor. You?" "Starbuck." He caught the end of the rope that Thor lowered to him. "Are you sure you can tug me outta here?" "I'm a lot stronger than I look, Starbuck. And that's no load of felgercarb." It was true. Starbuck was soon up on the forest floor. "Much obliged," he said. "Listen now," said Thor as he reeled in his rope. "I ain't exactly bein' just altruistic in this here business. Not that me and Smarthate's bunch ain't natural born enemies and all. Thing is, see, I couldn't help overhearin' your conversation with Gamma." "Thank the Lords you did." Scratching at his long nose with a metal forefinger, Thor said, "They got Alpha and you're aimin' to save her. Ain't that about the situation?" Starbuck glanced up at the fog-shrouded treetops. "That just about sums it up," he replied. "Wellsir now, Princess Alpha's sort of a special friend of mine," he explained. "I like her, she likes me. Even though everybody else in her enclave don't much cotton to me. I'm a loner, don't like livin' too close to anybody. And there's my arm, too." "Looks like an impressive piece of hi-tech to me." Grinning, Thor rubbed at the metal arm with the fingers of his natural hand. "Built the whole dang thing myself, designed it too. It can do all sorts of interestin' stuff," he said proudly. "Made it outta scraps of this metal and that metal. I scrounged parts from all over the planetoid. You'd be surprised at all that was left behind when them Merchant Acumen folks pulled up the stakes long time back." "Yeah, I've seen some of what they left," said Starbuck. "How'd you come to lose your real arm?" Thor shook his head. "Never had but one," he answered. "Born this way. You could call me a mutant, or like most do, a freak." Starbuck asked him, "Any idea where they're holding Alpha?" "A pretty darn good one, yep. Would you care to join forces with me and rescue her?" "Sounds like a good idea." "Partners, then." Thor held out his metal hand. Starbuck shook it. "Partners." ***** The fat one had a sharp pointed longshiv. He sat in the sagging sling chair, watching Alpha. He was an immense young man in a suit of ill-fitting work clothes. The buttons and other fastenings strained against his enormous girth. "I like you," he repeated, rubbing at the shiv's point with a fat thumb. "Truly I do, Alpha." The young woman sat on the floor of this single-room shack, hands tied behind her. She said nothing. "I had to poke you some when we caught you," continued the fat young man, his body jiggling. "But I'm sure I didn't hurt you all that badly." She looked away from him, at the small cracked window in the wall. The mist pressed against it, seeping through the zigzag crack. The odor of the stagnant pond came in, too. "You have to understand," continued the fat young man, "that you and I ain't on the same side. This is our territory, so when you try to cross it, we naturally have to stop you. We have to hurt you, too, make an example of you. Otherwise, your people would think they can just---" "Muzzle it, Coingibber," said the other occupant of the shack. He was not tall, only about five metrons by four. He had kinky auburn hair, dark eyes and a very obvious diamond-shaped birthmark. He was watching at the rooms other window. "Pleasant conversation relieves the bordom, Smarthate. Makes the centons pass much---" "I though I'd told you to muzzle it!" Coingibber nodded, chins wobbling. "If you want my opinion, you're worrying needlessly. Gamma will certainly---" "Not another word!" Smarthate gestured impatiently with his laser pistol. When Coingibber gave a resigned shrug, his oversized body quivered in unison with his shoulders. Smarthate glanced at Alpha. "Tell me some more about this guy who's following you." She said, "I know nothing useful to add, sir. I'm not even sure he is following me." Smarthate checked the window again. "Gamma's taking too frakkin' long. She's got to have spotted the guy by now." "We don't know how far behind he is," reminded Coingibber. "My orders were to watch a while and then come back and report if nobody showed." "Orders and Gamma don't mix." "Stop jawin'!" suggested Smarthate. The fat young man returned his attention to Alpha. "As I was saying, you and I could be friends," he said. "All you have to do is abandon that bunch you reside with and---" "Settle down!" said Smarthate. "I was only---" "I think I hear something." The kinky-haired Smarthate was close to the window, listening and watching. "Something, or somebody, is coming this way." "It's probably just Gamma." "No. It's somebody heavier, noisier." "She's no lightfoot." Smarthate said, "I can...Frack!" "What?" Curious, the immense Coingibber started to grunt up out of his chair. "I saw somebody," said Smarthate, eyes narrowed, watching the misty woodlands outside the shack. "Coming through the swamp. Looked like...Hades...some sort of droid." "Couldn't be. None of those old mechs work that well anymore." "It was big, one of those farmhand droids, you know, the ones with the scythes for right hands." "Why would a thing like that, granted there's even one in working order on the whole damn planetoid, be coming to call on us?" Smarthate nodded at the fat young man. "Go find out. It's out there in the swamp, in the trees about there, four hundred maxims off." "You gotta be seeing things. It's been known to happen in mist like this." "Go find out what it's doing there," ordered Smarthate. "Take the laser rifle." Sighing loudly, Coingibber put his longshiv away in its scabbard. "Let's just wait until it does something." "I don't want to wait. Get moving!" The shack's wooden floor creaked as Coingibber lumbered over to take up the rifle that was leaning against the wall. "Hope it ain't your imagination." "Go see if it is." He reached out, opened the door. Mist started flowing in. Sighing again, the fat young man ventured out into the fog. ***** Smarthate hunched his shoulders, shook his head from side to side. "What in Hades is going on?" Moving away from the window, he crossed over to Alpha. "I asked you a question," he said. "What's happening out there? Why hasn't Coingibber come back?" "How should I bloody well know?" He squatted, scowling at her. "First Gamma, now Coingibber," he said. "Are some of your people out there?" "No," said Alpha. "You know damn well I'm hectares from my home territory." "If you're here, then they could be too." "I'm here because the ship I was flying malfunctioned," she said. "You already made me tell you about that." Smarthate took hold of her jaw in his hand. "Who is it, then? This guy that's trailing you?" "I don't know!" Holding her head immobile, he slapped her with the other hand. Three times, hard. "What's going on out there? Tell me!" "I don't know!" "I don't want to puncture you any more," Smarthate told her in a low, calm voice. "But I will if you don't---" He was interrupted by a rapping at the door. Jerking to his feet, Smarthate spun to face the door. The rapping was repeated, louder and firmer this time. Smarthate drew his laser gun. "Who's there?" Whoever it was didn't respond. The rapping sounded again. "That you, Coingibber?" More rapping. "Gamma?" Rap! Rap! Rap! "All right, you stinkin' daggit!" Smarthate fired straight at the door, his gun crackling and humming. The top half of the wooden door vanished. Nothing showed in the gap except for the misty swampland outside. Smarthate took three cautious steps closer to the doorway. A big metal-bodied droid rolled into view from beside the door. "G'day," he said, waving his scythe hand in greeting. "What do you want? There's no crops around here you can harvest." "G'day." "Get your astrum away from here or---" A door-sized hunk of the rear wall suddenly disintegrated. "Nothing like a droid to create a diversion," said Thor, stepping through the hole. "So you're the freak who---"" Thor stunned him at that point, using the beam built into his forefinger. Smarthate dropped to the floor like a bag of stones. Starbuck entered by way of the front door. "I knew we'd meet again," he said to Alpha as he hurried over to her. Kneeling, he cut her bonds. As best she could with numbed arms, she hugged him. "Thanks," she said. "I'm sorry I beaned you." Thor nodded to himself. "Ain't that the way it always goes," he observed. "I do most of the rough work and somebody else gets the gratitude." ***** Chapter Eleven: Kraspo Returns "This must have been quite a setup way back when," said Captain Apollo. "Business seems to have taken a swan dive lately," commented Boomer. They were crossing vast, overgrown fields, heading toward four decaying structures. "Any idea how long this has been deserted?" said Apollo. "Obviously a good long while," said the lieutenant. "Being connected with Starbuck takes you to some pretty interesting places." "And meet some interesting women." "Come to think of it, I'm slightly impatient to see this current lady he's tangled up with. What was her name, Alpha?" "According to the all-knowing C.O.R.A, yes." They slowed their pace as they neared the Merchant Acumen buildings. "Alpha," repeated Boomer. "She sounds like one tough lady." "She'd have to be to get the best of Starbuck. He usually...hey, there's somebody in front of that warehouse." Apollo drew his laser pistol. "Only a droid," said Boomer. "Doesn't seem to be running." "Let's approach with caution, all the same." The overalled mechanical man was slumped in his chair. "G'day..." He croaked when they were a few maxims from him. "It's just barely working," Boomer said. Apollo was at the entrance to the empty warehouse. "Somebody's been here." He entered. The black lieutenant followed. "Over there," he said pointing. "Some kind of struggle. And look at all those footprints in the dust. Whatever happened here, it sure wasn't a friendly encounter." Crouching, Apollo touched at a dark spot on the wood flooring. "Oh Lords! Blood!" he said. "Not much of it around, though." "Meaning somebody was hurt but not killed." "If Starbuck was here, he's moved on. So--- "All right, whoever's in there, throw down your weapons and come out quick!" boomed a voice from outside. ***** "Aw, it wasn't so hard," Thor was explaining as they made their way through the misty swampland. "Just a matter of rigging one of them old farm droids to do a few simple chores." "Thor's a wizard with gadgets," added Starbuck. He was at the head of the line, with Princess Alpha just behind him. "He got that mechanical fieldhand to walk and talk just great." "Then we used him to decoy Coingibber out of that there shack," said Thor. "After we had the fat boy safely stunned, then we went up and sent the droid to knock on the shack door. While poor old Smarthate was givin' all his attention to that, I snuck 'round back. After peeking through the window to make sure where you was, I just up and dropped in, usin' this finger here to cut me an entry." Alpha smiled back at him over her shoulder. "I appreciate what you did," she said. "You too, Starbuck." The lieutenant added fumarello smoke to the swirling mist. "I happen to be what is called chivalrous," he told her. "That means I am obliged to help a damsel in distress." "But of course," reminded the beach sand-blonde haired young woman. "I wouldn't have been in most of this trouble if that nitwit computer of yours hadn't futzed the Viper and forced me to land such a damn long way from my home territory." "My computer was just doing her duty," Starbuck said. "You, dear sweet Alpha, had hijacked my ship...which in some of the more civilized corners of the universe might be construed as piracy...What's more, you knocked me on the head and left me for dead." "I only borrowed your scatterbrained ship because mine was flooey," she said. "You sure weren't anywhere near dead when I---" "It might be," cut in Thor, "a good idea if you explained why you was so anxious to get away from that there asteroid, Alpha." "That's obvious," she said impatiently. "Kraspo was on my tail." "I met him," said Starbuck. "He's a Trooper, the law. That makes you, princess, the local outlaw." "Ain't exactly that cut and dried," said Thor. "Them troopers say they're the law, but...well, they run the prison colony on Destructon. And that ain't the most honest and upstanding place this side of Gemon." "Put simply, it's a turbo-flush," commented Alpha. "She grew up there," said Thor, "but was lucky enough to break out and get over here." "That was when I was seventeen," she said. "For the past yahren or so I've lived with a group of other escapees, south of here. We farm, we raise cattle." "Where does the ambrosa come in?" "There's a lot of that on Destructon," she replied. "And there are ways of picking up a cargo now and then. Risky, but bloody well worth the effort. This time, though, Kraspo nearly caught me." "He nearly caught me too," said Starbuck. "In fact, I borrowed his fighter to come here." Alpha laughed. "Welcome to the Royal Order of Outlaws." "Apparently, that's more honorable than being a Trooper in these parts." He puffed on his fumarello. Thor said, "We want to go off on the trail that branches off this one just ahead. From what you told me, Starbuck, it's a shortcut to where the fighter and your ship are." "Don't bother flying me back to my group," the girl said to Starbuck. "I can manage it on foot." "Uh-uh," he told her. "Starbuck's law: when you go out on a date with a lady, always see her safely home." ***** Boomer had his eye to a crack in the warehouse wall. "There's just one man out there," he said quietly. "The laser gun he's toting looks ancient, but effective." "I'll give myself up to him," said Apollo. "Give me a little time, then distract him." Boomer nodded. Apollo walked out the doorway, tossing out his pistol. "Okay," he called. "I'm coming out." The man with the gun was some two hundred maxims away. Stern-looking and thickset, he wore dirty white clothes. There was a starburst emblem on his jacket. "Him too," he told Apollo. The captain feigned surprised, kept moving toward him. "Who's 'him?'" "The dark-skinned one who went into that warehouse with you." Smiling, Apollo said, "I don't like to argue with a fellow who packs a gun, but I went in there alone." "If he doesn't come out in another micron, you're a dead man!" Apollo was only a few feet away from the thickset lawman now. "Who exactly are you?" he asked him. "I'm a Colonial trooper," he answered. "Then we're on the same side of the law." Apollo started lowering his hands. "Keep 'em up!" "Sure, okay. But the point is, we're probably looking for the same man," continued Apollo. "He's a middle-sized young fellow, with straw-colored hair. He smokes fumarellos and dotes on stealing other people's means of transportation." The lawman studied Apollo's face. "Yes, that sounds like my man, all right," he said. "But then, I never did lay my eyes on the little bastard when I met him." "Thank the Lords you didn't." Apollo edged nearer. "He's a despicable felon, infamous for his---" "What in Hades?" Over by the warehouse, the lounging droid suddenly stood up, waving his arms to and fro like a windmill gone mad. The stern-faced Trooper's attention was drawn to that. Apollo lunged and caught the trooper's arm. He twisted the gun from his grasp. Then Apollo jabbed him twice in his midsection and once in the jaws. When the man hit the ground, he was unconscious. "Starbuck's corrupted me," remarked Apollo. "Now I'm assaulting peace officers." ***** Thor said, "We might as well be on the safe side, folks." They'd halted by a small forest pond. "We're getting mighty close to your ships," the young man said, pointing toward the trees with his metal hand. "Won't take me not time at all to make sure there ain't no more of Smarthate's people, or anyone else lurkin' round hereabouts. And goin' alone I can move as quiet and silent as the breeze." Snuffing out his fumarello on the mossy ground, Starbuck seated himself on a hollow log. "Good idea, Thor," he said. "You go on and get the lay of the land. We'll wait here." Grinning, Thor moved away into the shadows between the high trees. "Scared, Starbuck?" inquired Alpha, leaning against the bole of a broad tree. "Cautious, lover, merely cautious," he said. "Since I first paid a visit to your fair galaxy, I've been hit on the head, highjacked, abandoned and dropped into a pit. Experiences have a tendency to make one wary." The young woman nodded, smiled a crooked smile. "No doubt." After a moment, the lieutenant said, "What's your name?" "You know that already. Princess Alpha." "No, I mean---your real name. Why did Kraspo call you Burglar?" She answered, "Because...well officially that's my name, Burglar 112, but I decided not to be known by that designation any longer. I decided to rename myself and I chose Alpha, after this quadrant. I only gave myself the title of princess strictly out of ego, not heritage." "Felgercarb," Starbuck snorted. "I know you had another name before you got sent there." "Not sent there; born there." "Huh?" he stood up. Alpha shook her head. "Please, love, don't make me talk about it." "You've lived all your life on this Destructon?" Starbuck came forward, puckering his brow. "There's no reason why you need to hear about my past," she told him. "Fate brought us together and fate will separate us again. That''s the way life is, not anything to get serious about." "For one so young you're awfully cynical," he observed. "I'm not young anymore," she said, glancing in the direction Thor had gone. "What about you, Starbuck. Who are you?" "I...can't answer that." He poked his boot toe into the mossy ground. "You like to ask questions but not answer them, eh what?" "Actually...I'm a warrior." "Blimey! A warrior from the Great Colonies?" "Yep." He pointed upward. "I'm stationed on an enormous spaceship called a battlestar," he answered. "Right now I'm supposed to be exploring your quaint galaxy here. At risk of sounding full of myself, Alpha, I've got to tell you that I'm usually damn good at my job. Flying a viper, exploring,fighting. I do all that extremely well." He shrugged. "But, to be perfectly honest, ever since I met you on that halfwit asteroid, I've been fouling up." She smiled. "I can see you're going to use me as an excuse when you get back to your battlestar," she said. "I met this vicious woman outlay, sir, and she led me astray." "I've been leading myself astray," Starbuck said. "When I heard you might be in trouble, I had to come and save you." "Must be my good looks." He eyed her. "Could be," he said. "If you put it all in perspective---" "We got ourselves a peck of trouble folks," said Thor as he silently returned to them. "What's wrong?" asked the lieutenant. Thor rubbed at his metal arm. "That clearing yonder's sort of more crowded than you said it was." "How so?" "Firstly, there's two more ships like yous. They---" "---must be from the Galactica," Starbuck finished for him, brightening. "Could be Apollo, Boomer, Jolly or maybe even Greenbean." "Anybody else?" asked Alpha. "Another squad craft," answered Thor. Frowning, Starbuck said, "where are the people who go with all this aircraft?" Thor shook his head. "Didn't see hide nor hair of 'em," he said. "Didn't even go up close to none of them ships, mind you, but it sure looks like there wasn't anybody around." "Seems likely that Apollo and Boomer are off looking for me," reflected Starbuck. "And the occupants of the trooper ship are, too." "I would say that Kraspo's put out an all points bulletin---for me," said Alpha. "Okay," said Starbuck. "You two wait for me here. I'm going to the clearing and see if I can talk to C.O.R.A. She's my onboard computer. She ought to know where my buddies are. I'll get together with them and then swing back here for you." "Ain't worth the risk, sonny," said Thor. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He grinned. "On the other hand, this makes a great opportuntity for me to prove my courage to the both of you." ***** Crouched amidst brush, Starbuck scanned the clearing. Sure enough, there was an additional fighter and two more vipers. "Looks like Apollo and Boomer came hunting for me when I got myself bushwhacked," he said to himself. As far as Starbuck was able to tell, there was nobody in the area with the ships now. He remained where he was, watching and listening. Soon he'd approach his own viper. It stood to reason Apollo or Boomer had talked to his computer. C.O.R.A. just might know where they are. The barrel of a laser pistol poked against his spine. "Nice to see you again," said Kraspo. ***** Chapter Twelve: Destructon Prison Boomer narrowed his eyes. "I don't like the look of this next stretch of country," he said as they approached misty woodlands. "We're not tourists here, good buddy," said Apollo. "Starbuck came this way." "At least we know he's still on his own two feet." "The footprints suggest that, yep. He's following somebody who's carrying something fairly heavy," said the captain as they moved along the trail. "The body of Starbuck's ladyfriend?" "Possibly." "You don't have to worry about that, gents. He's alive and well." A lanky young man with a metal arm appeared out of the mist a few maxims directly ahead of them. "Don't believe I know you, friend." Apollo's hand hovered over his holster. "Name's Thor," he answered. "Suppose you tell me your names. I got my own reasons for asking, see." "I'm Apollo and this is Boomer." "Good. I was hoping you'd say that," Thor grinned. "You're friends of Starbuck?" "Yes, but how did you know that?" "Alpha," Thor called. "It's okay, c'mon over." A slim beach sand-blonde haired woman joined them. "I hear you're the one who started all this mess," Boomer said. "Starbuck brought most of it upon himself," said Alpha. "But we don't the luxury of squabbling right now. Kraspo's got the poor bloke." "Who's Kraspo?" said Apollo. "Here's the situation," said Thor. "We was goin' back to where your ships are, on account of Starbuck was aimin' to give Alpha a lift home. Except there was more ships than anticipated and he decided to go in alone, check out the situation with C.O.R.A. His computer, or whatever." Boomer said, "So what happened?" "Wellsir, we waited a spell for him," said Thor, "and he never came back. So I took me another look." Alpha said, "Thor got there just in time to see Kraspo hustle Starbuck into his fighter ship and take off." "Had I got there just a mite sooner," said Thor sadly, "I could've stunned Kraspo, kept him from carting Starbuck off like that." He tapped the metal finger he used for stunning. "Where is this man Kraspo likely to take him?" Apollo asked. "To Destructon," said Alpha. "That's where the prison is." ***** Don't you think," Starbuck had suggested as the fighter lifted off, "that you ought to wait for your backup?" "What backup?" asked Kraspo. "The fellows in the other fighter. You did call for backup, didn't you?" "Fedor can take care of himself," the thickset trooper said as he worked the controls of the ship. "He'll run Alpha to the ground and haul her in." "Do you mind if I go back and wait?" said the lieutenant amiably. "Just shut up." The ship went climbing away from the surface of the asteroid. Starbuck inquired, "Can't I at least have a smoke?" "Only if you can do it with your hands manacled behind you like that," said Kraspo. "I was kinda hoping you'd unshackle me." "Absolutely not!" Starbuck shifted into a slightly less uncomfortable position in the seat he'd been dumped into. "Why do you want Alpha?" "Same reason we want you," answered Kraspo. "Smuggling. In your case, of course, there's also assault, theft and a whole nice stewpot of other charges." "Sounds like a good time for me to explain who I really am." "I know who you are, laddie." "Nope. You only think you do. See, I come from a spacecraft that's---" "I don't want to hear it!" bellowed Kraspo. "But if I explain the situation to you now, you can just realease me. That way, there's no need of a tribunal or opposer, or even a---" Starbuck felll silent as Kraspo began to laugh. "A tribunal!" Kraspo said. "The beggar thinks he's gonna get a tribunal!" "You mean nobody gets a chance to state a defense around here? Starbuck protested. "I thought this was Colonial territory!" "There's Colonial law and then there's our law--- and that's all that's good here, you damn bootlegger!" Kraspo snarled. "Don't say one more word." ***** As the ship came through the atmosphere, Starbuck could see the lights of what looked like a very old space port. Several rows of warehouses and storage facilities lined a dilapidated docking and landing area. Beyond, he could make out squarish structures that indicated a small residential community, while behind that, towering above the entire community was a large structure that Starbuck immediately recognized as the prison facility. "Welcome to Destructon," said Kraspo as the fighter set down. "Not the jolliest spot I've ever seen," said Starbuck. In an instant, he realized what purpose Destructon Prison must have served long ago when it had been an active part of the Colonial Frontier. The inmates performed labor in this distant outpost so far from the Colonies, and the results of their labor would be transported to the warehouses and docks for loading onto Colonial freighters serving all Colonial outposts throughout the Frontier. Kraspo chuckled. "You're now part of the colony, so deal with it or it'll deal with you," he advised him, unbuckling from his seat. "Look, you really better take me to whoever's running this whole show. Because otherwise---" "Starbuck," said the trooper evenly, "you'll get along a lot better here on Destructon if you quit bitching." "Believe it or not, my friends are going to come looking for me. All I'm trying to do is save you trouble." "Can you get your astrum out of that seat and walk on out of this ship?" Kraspo opened the cabin door. "Sure." "Do it!" Starbuck obliged, following the lawman out of the fighter. Waiting outside was another trooper, holding a laser rifle. "He the bloke, Kraspo?" Starbuck noticed the other trooper's accent was similar to Alpha's, using the term 'bloke' for person. "Yeah, he's the wise astrum who stole my ship." "I see you got it back." "I always get back what's mine." Starbuck, hands chained behind his back, was looking around. The cases were stacked up everwhere. "Those crates look awfully familiar," he remarked. "Like the ones you were smuggling, pal," said Kraspo. "All of these have ambrosa in them?" Starbuck was impressed. "How much is all that worth?" "Not a damn thing to you!" shouted Kraspo. "Now get moving! There's a nice cell in that gray building over yonder with your name on it!" ***** Chapter Thirteen: The Sinners They had marched Starbuck through the warehouse complex, past the small dwellings and into the massive doorway that was the entrance to the prison complex. "Look-" Starbuck started, and then his universe went black again as he felt the butt of the pistol come down on his head. When he came to again, he found himself inside a dim, torch-lit cell. "Ohhhh," he moaned as he rubbed his head, "Twice in one day, it's just not fair!" He drew himself to a sitting position and found himself staring at his cell. Two of the walls were of gray stone. The third was lined with a maze of strange drawings as though whoever had once occupied it before had been something of an artist. What stood out most was something that resembled a group of planets orbiting a yellow sun. Below the drawing were the words Hapgood was here! The fourth wall was steel bars and door. The furnishings were a lumpy cot and basic toilet facilities. Across the dimly lit corridor Starbuck could see three similar cells. Each was occupied. Before he had a chance to study the weird drawings further, he heard a booming voice from somewhere behind. "What's your name, guv'nuh!" Starbuck turned around and made his way to the bars of his cell. Directly opposite him was a tall, powerfully built man with a incredibly full beard. He was holding a bottle of ambrosa in one hand, and as Starbuck's eyes wandered down the rest of the cells he could tell that the motley crew of prisoners were all holding ambrosia bottles. Again, Starbuck noticed how the accent was just like Alpha's, Aquarian with a smattering of curious colloquialisms. "Hi," Starbuck slowly waved his arm in acknowledgment, "Name's Starbuck." The bearded man frowned in contemplation. "Starbuck? That's bloody strange. Never heard of that one before. Ah well, let's have a toast then to our new mate, Starbuck!" "Starbuck!" all the prisoners raised their bottles and said in unison before taking a nip. There was an almost open atmosphere of solidarity among them, as though they were seemingly content with their lot. Starbuck noticed that there was a bottle of ambrosia on the small table next to his bed and he picked it up. "They give you ambrosa?" "Oh yes," the man looked at his bottle, "But never the good stuff." "The good stuff..." Starbuck's eyes widened in surprise and then he blinked as widening them only made his head hurt more. "Take a belt, guv'nuh!" urged a strikingly dark-haired beautiful woman in something that resembled a tattered socialator's costume who occupied a cell across from him. If he hadn't been feeling so lightheaded from being hit twice on the head, and gnashing his teeth over all that had happened to him, he would have taken the time to start a conversation with her and lay on the patented Starbuck charm. He noticed the full bottle of ambrosa sitting on the stone floor beside his cot. "Sorry, not exactly in the mood for it." "I'd say this one's too good to drink with us," said the dark-haired woman. "Oh, not at all, folks." He picked up the bottle and pretended to take a long swig. Nodding approvingly, the bearded man said, "Weclome to Destructon prison. I'm Assault 9, the lovely bird next door to you is Adulteress 14, and the shifty-eyed old blighter across from you is Forger 6. And of course all our children too. About ten of us altogether and our respective families. That's just in this one block of course." Starbuck blinked again, as he realized for the first time that each cell contained several children in addition to the adults. This was apparently what Alpha meant when she said she'd been born in here. It was far more than a simple prison, if children could be caged in here as well. "So tell me, handsome," the woman called Adulteress spoke for the first time. Her voice was thick and slurry, clearly the result of many bottles of ambrosa. "What kind of offense is...Star-bucking? It sounds interesting." Starbuck frowned at her, not understanding her question. "It's...not an offense, it's just a name, my name," he said, somewhat annoyed. "See, folks, I'm not a criminal at all." "They're one and the same, guv'nuh!" the small man called Forger spoke up. He was wearing an ancient pair of spectacles, which meant that the colonies in this planetoids were further out of date than he'd first thought. Occular cultures and implants had rendered eyeglasses and spectacles obsolete in the Colonies more than five hundred yahrens earlier. "Your offense is your name for life! It's the law, you know!" "Huh?" Starbuck's perplexed expression only increased. "What are you talking about?" Adulteress let out a chilling drunken cackle, "I wonder if our original sinners were just as daft and na‹ve as this ruddy bloke." "Original sinners?" said Starbuck. wondered if he'd wandered into a nuthouse. "Tis our ancestors she refers to!" Assault boomed out in a cheery tone. "The ones who were first sentenced here." Things began to add up for Starbuck. No wonder Alpha didn't want to talk about this place. "You mean to tell me all you folks are doing time for crimes your ancestors committed?" "That's better than being an original sinner, like you," Forger shot back in an almost patronizing tone. "All we have to do is just outwardly imitate what they did. But you...you committed an actual offense!" "Yes, and it sounds soooo interesting!" Adulteress let out another slurry chuckle, "Come on. Tell us what Star-bucking is?" The blonde warrior looked at her with total incredulity. The whole situation struck him as completely insane. "I told you, it's not an offense. It's the name is was born with!" "Aha!" Assault's eyes lit up, "I think he means the name he went by before he committed his offense! He's not used to the one he's going to be known by from here on in." "I don't plan on getting used to any other name," Starbuck focused his attention on Assault, who seemed to be more levelheaded than Forger, Adulteress or any of the other adults. "I'm just a...privateer from another quadrant in the galaxy." "Are you now, my lad?" Assault crowded closer to the bars, his arms stretching through them. "You've been in the Home Quadrant then? Pray tell, have you any news of the war?" Starbuck eyed him cautiously, "War?" "Of course man! Between the Colonies and the Alliance!" Forger held up his bottle with ultra-nationalistic fervor. "We supply ambrosia for all the brave Colonial Warriors!" "You what?" The pieces of a fantastic puzzle began to fall into place for the Galactica warrior. Now he knew where Alpha had come by all that ambrosa. "We may be prisoners, but we're as pat-riotic as any Col-o-nist," Adulteress said with a proud, haughty air. "The function of Destructon was originally to provide munitions and ambrosa for the war effort," Assault said, "When the munitions ran out, we just kept on making the only thing we could; ambrosa. And we've been making it for seven-hundred yahrens." "And we'll keep doing it for another seven-hundred! Until they hang the Imperious Leader by his hideous neck until dead!" Adulteress proudly raised her bottle, "Death to the Cylons!" "Death to the Cylons!" the adult prisoners all said in unison. Starbuck shook his head in bewilderment as he decided he needed a break from all this insanity he'd heard. He went back to the other side of his cell, where the strange paintings and drawings continued to intrigue him. ***** Apollo paced the clearing. "What I'm suggesting to you is the simplest way of doing things," he said. "Go to Hades," said the trooper. His name was Fedor and he was the man Apollo had knocked out at the abandoned warehouse. Boomer and Thor had brought him back to the ships. Apollo halted in front of him. "Look, friend, we're both more or less on the same side," he said, the impatience creeping slowly into his voice. "You can escort us to Kraspo on Destructon and we can arrange---" "You can say any damn thing," the trooper told them, "but you still might be Cylon spies. And I'll tell you something. This buddy of yours, this Starbuck chap, he tried to kill Kraspo---and stole his fighter. You two bastards worked me over. Hades Hole, that's not my idea of being on the same side." "Those were just misunderstandings," said Boomer. "To Hades with all of you." Alpha said, "Kraspo left you behind to find me and bring me in, didn't he?" "Yes, and eventually I will." Nodding, the light-haired woman turned to Apollo. "You can fly that fighter of his, can't you?" "Sure." "Okay, then let's quit wasting time with this idiot," she said. "You'll fly it to Destructon with me as your passenger. If you wear Fedor's outfit, we can land safely at the prison and get inside before they know what's up." "Kraspo won't be easily taken in by a stunt like that," said Fedor scornfully. "It might work," said Apollo thoughtfully. "Sure," said Thor, "and Boomer and me can land nearby. You take out the guards, we'll coming scooting in. Heck, the four of us can take over the whole shebang. Easy as pie." "They'll wipe you out," predicted the trooper. "We'll take that chance," said Apollo. ***** Cassiopeia wondered why she'd received a telecom from Athena in the middle of the night asking her to come to the Bridge. She knew that she and her rival had a productive talk aboard the Rising Star and parted on good terms, but she never would have expected something like this. "Athena?" she asked as she came over to her station. "You wanted to see me?" Athena rose and indicated that she wanted to say something confidentially to her. As soon as they were behind one of the support pillars, she took a breath and spoke. "Starbuck is on a long-range patrol. We've been receiving intermittent codes in a long-range transmission that we can't deciper. Because this violates the standing orders he was given, we can only assume that he's no longer in command of his viper and that..." She swallowed uneasily. "...that he might in fact be dead." The news hit Cassiopeia like a bolt of lightning. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to show no other outward signs of emotion. Athena cleared her throat, trying not to choke up. "We've sent out a patrol to destroy his ship. But...even if he's still alive, the chances are not good that we can find him. Anyway," she shook her head, "I just thought you should know. Especially...well, especially after we had that little talk this evening." Without waiting for Cassiopeia to say anything, Athena straightened herself and went back to her station. Cassiopeia took a half-centon to collect her wits before she followed her. Aren't I lucky? Cassiopeia thought. I get over losing Cain, and then I fall in love with another warrior who also disappears. "Athena," Cassiopeia said as she came up behind her chair. "Thanks." She nodded and went back to her monitoring of the Recon Viper One transmissions. ***** Chapter Fourteen: How to escape from Destructon Far away, three Cylon fighters emerged from the asteroid dust cloud that the immigrant Fleet had long since passed through. Because the Cylon fighters had been expressly ordered to track the source of the mysterious coded signal that Baltar's baseship had picked up, it never occurred to the lead pilot of any of the three fighters to check for readings of tylium fuel residues, which would have provided clear indications that the fugitive fleet had recently been in this area. Instead, the Cylon scanners remained locked onto the trajectory where the signal had first originated. A trajectory that the lead pilot calculated would take them to a binary star system containing one large asteroid and a series of lesser ones in less than three centars. ***** Commander Adama sat in a comfortable chair in his quarters, a pile of reports on his lap. He leaned back in the chair, his eyes nearly shut. "Colonel Tigh and Cassiopeia request permission to enter," said a talkbox overhead. "Granted." Sitting up straight, Adama moved the stack of papers to a nearby tabletop. The black colonel looked worried as he came into the room. "Commander, Cassiopeia thinks she knows what kind of signal Recon Viper One was sending." "Oh?" "When Athena cross-checked the code on the computer, I recognized some of the encryption symbols," Cassiopeia began. "It's an Aquarian merchant code." "What?" Adama bolted forward in the chair. "My father was a merchant, and I used to transmit messages for him," Cassoipeia's words came out rapidly as the urgency of the situation became clear to her." "It was an Aquarian merchant code. I'm sure of it." "We're fools for not considering the possibility, sir," Tigh said. "If old settlements that were part of the Colonial Frontier still existed after all these centurons, they would still know how to use those." "Have you found out what the message means?" Adama said. "Yes, I'm afraid we we have," Tigh replied. "It's a request for the coordinates back to Aquarius. Apparently the pilot is a woman who doesn't realize that Aquarius is in Cylons hands now. She must have stolen Starbuck's ship as a way of getting back to the home civilization they've lost contact with. Fortunately for her, destroying the ship is no longer deemed necessary." "I see," said Adama. He looked toward Cassiopeia and smiled. "Thank you for your help, Cassiopeia. We're not any closer to figuring out what happened to Starbuck, but...you may have helped give us a chance of finding him." "I'm glad I could help, Commander," the med-tech said, and then she finally decided to leave Adama's quarters. Of course it won't change anything when he gets back, Cassiopeia found herself able to resume that edge of lighthearted thinking as she reached the doorway that led out into the main corridor. I'd like to think of Athena and me as friendly rivals, but we are still rivals ultimately. I wouldn't want it any other way. Just so long as we'd stay friendly. And if I don't end up winning, she's the only person I wouldn't mind seeing win instead. And if I end up winning, I hope, by all the Lords, that there's someone else out there for her because she deserves it. ***** Adama grew serious agin. "But that doesn't end our problems. Someone has responded to the message, yes?" "Unfortunately, the wrong someone," answered Tigh. "Long-range rear scan indicates three Cylon fighters just emerged from the asteroid dust cloud behind us." "Positive identification on that?" "Yes sir, no question. I increased rear sensors to get a clear enough indication for the war manual to check them out." "Do they appear to be heading for the Galactica? "No. The scanners indicate that their projected course is to the area from which Starbuck's Recon Viper One sent the signals," said Colonel Tigh. "That's where Apollo and Boomer are, too." Adama stroked his chin. "It's clear they couldn't decipher what the message meant or else they would have sent out a lot more than just three ships." He rubbed his chin. "It does present us with a dilemma, though. They're clearly focusing their scanners on the source of the transmssion, or else they would have been able to pick up the Fleet on a wide concentrated scan." "Eventually they will spot us." "We'll have to bring the fleet up to flank speed, move out of their maximum scan range potential as soon as possible," decided the commander. Tigh's eyes narrowed as he realized what Adama meant. "That means putting Blue Squadron out of contact with us." "We have no choice," Adama said. "Order a new course and have the Fleet move at flank speed, to give us as much space possible from those Cylons." The commander then looked the executive officer in the eye to let him know that he was not about to let any personal considerations influence his decision. "It is so ordered, Colonel." "Yes sir," said Tigh without much enthusiasm. ***** It took Alpha twenty centons to explain the history of the Destructon colony and how it operated to this day, long after Destructon had ceased to be an active part of the Colonial Frontier. "My ancestor Viciab was an Aquarian merchant, who was sentenced to Destructon for stealing a cargo load of Negoxon and silk," she said. "He was the original sinner in my family. But he taught the merchant codes to his daughter, and it was passed down on by every subsequent generation down to my mother who taught it to me. It was always meant to me a symbol of hope to the lucky one who could not only break free from the troopers, but successfully return to the home world of our ancestors." "Can you describe in a little more detail how you escaped?" Apollo was fascinated by the narrative. "Nothing to it, love," Alpha said. "All you have to do is just walk out of your cell under cover of darkness, and if you have enough rudimentary flight skills, you can make it off Destructon to one of these nearby smaller asteroids. I live in a community of others like myself who've done it." "Wait a centon," Boomer said disbelievingly. "You just walked out of your cell?" "Yes, Lieutenant," Alpha smiled mirthlessly. "The locks on those cells haven't worked in generations. All the prisoners know that. The Troopers know that, and it would be too cumbersome a task to have them fixed." "Then why do they stay there?" "Because of all those generations of thinking its okay for them to stay in prison for the crimes of their ancestors has warped their minds completely. They actually believe they're still doing their patriotic duty making ambrosa for the Colonial warriors and that they'd be guilty of treason of they thought of themselves first." "Unbelievable," Boomer shook his head. "And no one ever bothers to wonder why no Colonial freighters ever come by to pick up the stocks?" "The Troopers told them the usual pickups continued to happen. But that they always happened during curfew when it was time for us to be back in our cells." He lowered his head. "The funny thing is, I really don't hate Kraspo and his minions. They're as much victims as we are. They're the descendants of the original guards and their ancestors taught them to believe that Colonial civlization hadn't forgotten hem, and that it was important that they keep Destructon operational for the time when the Colonies would make contact with us again. They're not evil, they just think they're doing their patriotic duty, like the prisoners think they're doing theirs by not escaping." "Okay," Apollo nodded. "But when you and the others got off Destructon to this safe haven, why didn't you just head straight for the Colonies?" "There are hundreds here, Captain, more than my shuttle can hold. Besides, it's not capable of going that far. I had no idea where the nearest operational outpost on the Colonial Frontier was after all these centurons," Alpha said. "That's why I had to stay in this area and hope to find a ship I could commandeer that would serve my purpose. And when I unexpectedly crossed paths with Starbuck, I realized the Lords of Kobol had finally answered my prayers. I knew I'd be the only one to reach a Colony, but it was still my best hope. "And I didn't mean any harm to your friend," Alpha continued. "I---I couldn't stand the thought of growing old and dying in that prison like my parents and grandparents before me, that's why I did what I did." "I see," Apollo continued to nod, this time in full understanding. "Now that I know the full story, I won't condemn you. If I were in your position I might have done the same. But now you realize of course that it was all for nothing." "So you've explained," Alpha sighed. "The Colonies all destroyed now and under Cylon occupation. And just within the last three sectars. It sounds like the cruelest joke of all." "But we can provide safe haven for you and everyone on Destructon in the Fleet," Apollo said. "That goes for the Troopers as well as the prisoners...if the news of what's happened to the Colonies shocks them back to their senses, because if there's no more Colonial civilization for them to be part of, then their reason for maintaining Destructon no longer applies. "That's true," Alpha succeeded. "All right then," Apollo nodded. "Let's get on with the mission objective, finish it as fast as we can." ***** "We've assumed port flank heading away from the binary system, Commander," Tigh said. "We're now completely out of the maximum possible scanning range of those Cylon fighters." "Good," Adama said as he settled down in his chair on the Bridge's upper level and reached for his mug to finish off his fourth cup of nearcaf. As soon as he tasted it, he winced as he realized it had gone stone cold since he'd set it down. It won't be long before there's none of this left, he thought. There's no time to find the raw plant form for cultivation on the agro-ship. Sooner or later the supplies we have will be gone and humans will one day never remember what this tasted like. The thought made him snigger as he set down the mug. Ila, his late wife, had been the most addicted nearcaf drinker of anyone he knew. She just couldn't get through the day without at least five to seven cups of the steaming black liquid. And not matter how much their family med-tech warned her about the health hazards of too much nearcaf, her consumption of it continued unabated, and he could remember plenty of times throughout their marriage when she would get irritable if they'd run out of nearcaf and she was unable to have any. I wonder how all the other compulsive nearcaf drinkers like she was are coping now?" "Colonel," Adama scooted forward in his seat. "Now that we're out of scanning range of those fighters, have the Fleet return to a straight-line formation at reduced speed. That will put us in position to move back into their range when it might be safer." "Yes sir." Adama picked up his empty mug and wondered if he should order another mug. Before he could make up his mind, he was surprised to see Boxey wandering onto the upper level, and right over to his station. "Boxey!" Adama said with pleasant surprise. "What brings you here? You still have another centar in your sleep cycle." "I couldn't get back to sleep after they woke Dad up and he had to go," the little boy said. "I never sleep well when he's away, so I read more of the book you gave me." Adama then noticed that his grandson was holding the illustrated volume of the The Facts of the All Seeing Primal. "I'm pleased that you find it so interesting, Boxey," Adama said as he reached for his grandson so he could sit him down on his knee. "What was your favorite part?" "The part where it talks about Earth," Boxey said as he handed the book to Adama. "What it says about what Earth is like. Is all that really true?" "Of course it is, Boxey," Adama smiled and patted him on the shoulder as he took the book with his other hand. "If I didn't think Earth was exactly like the All Seeing Primal describes it, I wouldn't be trying to find it." "How will we know how to find it?" "Good question," Adama said as he opened the book and thumbed through the pages, thanking the Lords that his fascination with ancient history had led him to buy this children's volume many, many yahrens ago and keep it in his personal library aboard the Galactica. "Ah, here it is. On page twenty, the All Seeing Primal relates how the people of Kobol first learned about what kind of system Earth lay in: 'Twas a system of nine planets orbiting a bright yellow sun. Earth, the third of the nine, held more abundance than any other world ever beheld by the eyes of man,'" he pointed at the pages. "Here it even describes what ther other planets in the system are like and why the people of Kobol know that only Earth was suitable for them to settle on." "Did they draw a map of it, like they do for other things?" Boxey said. Adama smiled as he hugged his grandson and then placed the book back in Boxey's hand. "I know of no such map, unfortunately. But, if you put your mind to it, you could draw a map of your very own, just the way it's described here. And then when your father comes back from his mission, you can present it to him as a gift." Boxey held the book with a thoughtful expression and then looked up at him. "He's gonna come back, isn't he? And Starbuck and Boomer too?" "Of course he is," Adama said gently. "You know how good a warrior he is. Now, if you can't get back to sleep, why don't you get started on that map so you can surprise your father with it at the next family dinner?" Boxey climbed down from his grandfather's knee, a determined look on his face now. "Thanks, Grandpa! I'll do it!" he said. "Of course," Adama smiled as he watched his grandson hurry off. ***** Starbuck was glad that the paintings and drawings on the wall of his cell were there to provide some needed distraction from what he regarded as the insanity that existed on Destructon. The less he conversed with the prisoners, the better he felt. After all, Apollo and Boomer were out there somewhere, searching for him, so if he could just relax and wait they'd eventually track him to the Destructon Prison. At first, Starbuck noticed how on the outer areas of the walls, there were a number of drawings that looked like animals. Animals that didn't strike any immediate recognition in him, save for one that he knew to be an equine. As he moved toward the back wall area, furthest away from the cell door, he noticed how the drawings took on a different character. Now he saw what looked like the vista of a town or city, but the buildings were of a design he had never seen the likes of before. To one oside of the vista, he could see the scratchings of characters of some kind but they spelled a word that made absolutely no sense to him. But next to the indecipherable words, he could see what looked like a crude attempt at drawing a young woman and a small child. Underneath the woman and child were two more sets of meaningless characters, which made Starbuck wonder if Hapgood, if that was who drew these people, had written their names in a language that was totally unknown to him. On the other, his eyes narrowed at a strange rectangular motif. In the upper left side corner was a solid blue field dotted with several rows of white specks. The rest of the design consisted of thirteen alternating stripes of red and white. A pennant of some kind, Starbuck thought. But does it represent Hapgood's home, or something else entirely? His eyes wandered to what took up most of the back wall. This was something he could comprehend more easily since it was clearly some kind of map that depicted a solar system. At the center of the wall was a yellow sun of modest size. Hapgood had taken a considerable amount of care in sketching this series of planets and their orbital paths around the sun. He counted the number of planets depectied there and saw nine. The planets varied in size from a tiny red speck that was closest to the sun, to a massive reddish-white one that was the fifth furtest out. The sixth planet was the second largest and had a set of rings circling its equator, just like Virgon back in the colonies. It was the third planet that captured Starbuck's attention, causing him to frown in concentration. It was larger than the specks that were the first and ninth planets, yet smaller than the giants that were the fifth and sixth. But it somehow managed to have more detail on it than any of the other planets. He could see a general blueness with what seemed like brownish-green landmasses dotting the surface, as though oceans and continents were being depicted. He could also see a line rising from the upper section of the planet, and it reminded Starbuck of how one might draw a launch trajectory. I guess this was Hapgood's way of telling these simpletons he came from the third planet, Starbuck thought. But it's unlike any star system in the Colonial Frontier I can remember. He continued to study the map in fascination when he suddenly heard a stern voice from outside his cell. "'Oi! Bootleg-guh! Take your bloomin' ambrosa bottle an' don't give me no fel-guh-cahb!" Starbuck turned around and a disgusted look came over him when he saw a Trooper standing outside his cell. Next to him was a stand of ambrosa bottles that was being wheeled from cell to cell. "What part of 'my name's Starbuck' doesn't anybody around here understand?" he said coldly. "Oh you can just fuh-get that was ever your name, guv'nuh. From now on you're gonna be known as Bootleg-guh 137." The guard tossed a marker through the bars. "Now put that around your neck, and remember the first rule: never argue with a Trooper." Starbuck got to his feet, "137, huh? I would've thought being an original sinner being an original sinner entitled me to be number one." He picked up the marker with disdain and flung it asked. "I don't need to put myself into a drunken stupor if I don't want to." "Take your new bottle and drink! Now!" "How about I bash it across your chops instead!" Starbuck started angrily as he placed his hands on the metal bars of his cell door. The door swung open with a raspy squeak. "What in Hades?" he said as he stumbled into the corridor. A gasp went up from the other prisoners, who were all at the bars watching in concern. "Get back inside," called Assault anxiously. "Close your door, guv'nuh!" "They don't like us to do that," said Adultress, frowning through her bars at him. "Close that door!" the Trooper barked. "That's an order!" Starbuck swung it open further and stepped outside. "Make me!" he eyed him with disdain. "Since you're not carrying a laser, pistol, I guess that makes your job tougher, doesn't it?" Abruptly, the Trooper turned around and made a hasty exit out of the cell block. As Starbuck stood out in the corridor, he could hear all of the prisoners lining the bars, all of them saying, "Go back! Get back inside! Get back inside!" Starbuck remained in the stone corridor. "Now folks," he said, glancing around at his fellow inmates, "you can't mean that none of these cells are locked." "They haven't worked in generations," answered Assault, his eyes on the floor. "Central control mechanism bit the dust ages ago." Starbuck's eyes bulged. "Let me get this straight in my poor old battered brain," he said. "Your cells aren't locked, not a one of 'em, but you all stay here anyway. Why, may I ask, do you do that?" "Because we can't," Assault shook his head. "Why the frack not?" Starbuck was on the verge of insanity, wondering how much more of these absurd people he could take. "It's the way things are," added Forger. "Our fathers were prisoners," explained Adultress. "Our mothers were prisoners. We're prisoners. That's the way of the universe." "Felgercarb!" The Galactica warrior decided he'd been through enough with them. "Stop acting like nitwits. We're all human beings. And, in case you haven't heard, we have certain rights. The right to freedom is one of 'em." "You're not old enough to understand because you're an original sinner, Starbuck," Assault said gently. "When you've been part of this structure of life for generations as have we, it's easier to understand why we just accept our fates." "Look," Starbuck came over to Assault's cell. "If you want to spend the rest of your lives in an ambrosa stupor, deluding yourselves with all this felgercarb, that's fine. But what about your children? How can you live with yourselves condemning them to a lifetime in these cells and this stinking prison complex?" "They will grow up to be patriots like us!" Forger said indignantly. "Producing ambrosa for the Colonial Warriors as we have, and our fathers before." "When was the last time any of you went down to the warehouses and the loading docks?" Starbuck shouted angrily. "All of the ambrosa you've ever made is still aging down there! There isn't a single Colonial Warrior that's ever tasted a drop of what you've made!" A startled gasp went up from all the prisoners. Starbuck's words had the same effect on them as if he'd said he was one of the Lords of Kobol. "What is this madness you spout?" Assault's eyes widened in astonishment. "These penal asteroids got lost in the Colonial bureaucracy hundreds of yahrens ago! Since then, nobody's even been aware that Destructon was ever part of the Colonial Frontier. All we've got left are some old star maps with a name and no information about what was still here." "That'll be enough out of you, Bootlegger." Kraspo had appeared in the corridor. He glared at Starbuck. "Get back in your cell or you're a dead man!" "No. It's going to take you and couple of your stooges to get me in there again," Starbuck informed the Trooper Captain. "Boy, you've got some deal going going here. Keep these poor folks slaving away for nothing while you lord it over them." "There is a purpose to this," said Kraspo. "Making ambrosa for our fighting men is their duty, enforcing the law is ours. My father was a Trooper and his father was a Trooper. "Yeah, sure," said Starbuck impatiently. "Kraspo!' Assault barked. "He says that the Colonies forgot about us hundreds of yahrens ago and that the ambrosa is all wasting away on the docks!" Kraspo's head bolted toward him, surprised to have heard this, but he kept his expression cold. "He's a liar!" "Oh?" Starbuck refused to let up. "Tell us the last time a Colonial freighter docked here." "The business of the troopers is covered by security restrictions. I'm forbidden to---" "Have you ever seen a freighter, Kraspo? Did your father?" "I warned you!" Kraspo ignored him and motioned the one Trooper with the laser pistol to open fire. Starbuck bolted back into his cell to escape the laser blast and then had to roll under his bed to dodge a secondary blast. "Will you people open up your ears and listen to me!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "For generations you've been wasting your damn lives. You haven't helped the Colonies!" Assault looked at the Trooper. "Does he speak the truth?" "He does not!" Kraspo assured him. "He's just a dirty thieving bootlegger trying to save his own hide!" "I'm a Colonial Warrior!" Starbuck got to his feet, "Lieutenant Starbuck of the Battlestar Galactica!I But you don't have to take my word for it. All you have to do is walk out of that cell, Assault, and go outside. Look at the damn docking area and the spacedrome. Then you tell me if this whole mess isn't just a stupid boondoggle to keep Kraspo and his Troopers in power." "Falsehoods!" Kraspo matched Starbuck's tone. "And when the Colonies make contact with us again, it'll be my pleasure to---" "Wait!" said Assault. "There's no need to pay any attention to this man," said the Trooper. Ignoring him, Assault opened the door of his cell, his imposing form towering over all of the Troopers like an ursine about to attack a hornbuck. ***** Princess Alpha tapped her fingers on the side of her seat. "You've known Starbuck for a while, huh?" "I sure have." Apollo, clad now in Trooper garb, was at the controls of the fighter. They were nearing Destructon. "Can you give me a landing pattern that'll set us now by the prison?" Nodding,she reached over, punched out one on the dash controls. "That should do it." "Much obliged." Alpha said, "I find myself having mixed feelings about him." "Starbuck? You just have to get used to him. It takes awhile, but you will," Apollo told her. "Starbuck just knows how to be one thing: Starbuck." "I realize that now," she said. "When I...um...laid him up and stole his Viper, I thought that'd be the last I'd ever see of him." She shrugged. The dark asteroid grew larger and larger beyond the canopy of the ship. "Starbuck, if you think about it, is like a bad habit. He's hard to give up." "Just like trying to get to Aquarius," Alpha said as they began to descend. "I have living relatives there." "When was the last time you were in touch with them?" "Never have been in touch," the beach sand-blonde girl replied. "But my mother told me about her people being there." "There's just one thing that bothers me," said Apollo. "Did you use one of those codes to try to contact Aquarius while you were in the Viper?" "Yes I---" Alpha stopped in mid sentence. "Blimey! The Cylons control the planet now, right? I--I didn't know. I'm sorry." "You couldn't have known, isolated as you are," said Apollo. "But if they picked up your transmission, they'll be sending somebody to see who sent it. That means we can almost certainly expect them to pay us a little visit. And Cylon visits are never friendly ones." "That's something to worry about," said Alpha. "But let's free Starbuck first." "I second that motion," agreed Apollo. ***** Boomer sniffed the air. "The smell's familiar," he said, "but I can't quite place it." "It's ambrosa," said Thor. "From the distilleries yonder." They had landed on Destructon and were moving through a wooded area toward the rear of the prison complex. "They make ambrosa here?" "Lords of Kobol yes. It's the only industry they've got up here, Boomer." "In our corner of the universe, ambrosa's pretty damn hard to come by." "Not on Destructon," he said. "They're up to the gills with the damn stuff, which is why the princess and a few others run loads over to the other asteroids and planetoids from time to time." The lieutenant asked, "Are the distilleries part of the prison?" "Right out back of it," he answered. "You'll see the whole kit and kaboodle in about...ooops! Hold up." Thor held his metal hand in front of Boomer to halt his progress along the pathway. "What's wrong?" "Heard somethin' off that way and...oh...greetin's Fortress." A small, bearded old man stood, barely visible, in among the trees. He leaned on a knobby wooden staff. "Wellsir, if it ain't Thor himself," he said in a quavery voice. "You here to take a load?" "Nope, nope, just a friendly visit." "'Cause we been able to acquire another hundred cases." "I'll let the princess know." "Aw, she took her last load from Celestial Knife and his bunch," Fortress shook his head sadly, causing his long beard to flutter. "Any fool knows he waters down his ambrosa. It ain't got the quality ours has." Thor inquired. "How ya doin'?" "Can't complain," answered Fortress. "The terrible pain in my back ain't lettin' up none, but I've learned to live with it. The dizzy spells are a mite better, though. And the last time I fell over in a swoon I landed on mossy ground and didn't break any bones." "Well, it's been right nice chattin' with you," Thor said, grinning. "We'll be moseyin' along now. And if you hear a lot of loud noises in a spell, don't you worry none." "I'm lucky to hear anything at all these days, way my hearin's goin'." He gave them a wave before disappearing among the trees. "That's one of the dangerous long term side effects of smugglin'," said Thor as he and Boomer continued to make their way to the prison. "You get hooked on your own product." ***** Chapter Fifteen: Thank God, Free at Last! When the rest of the prisoners had all reacted to Starbuck's revelation about being a warrior, they all swung the doors of their cells open, as if in unison. "We can settle this easily, Croad," Adultress said, her voice angry even through her slurred tone. "Just show us the loadin' docks." "No!" "You got something to hide?" Forger barked. "Yes!" Assault was now crowding his way between the unarmed guards and Kraspo. The one Trooper who was armed was findingit difficult to keep his weapon trained, since theywere on the verge of being surrounded. "Show us, you piece of daggit dung!" For the first time in his life, an edge of panic entered Kraspo's face. "All right, all right, we have full warehouses, yes! But we maintain them for the day when the Colonies will make contact with us again, and we keep this facility functioning so they'll know we've been doing our job all these hundreds of yahrens too!" In a flash, Starbuck abruptly understood that the Troopers, in their own wretched way had been misleading themselves for just as long as they misled the inmates. Both groups of peopole tied to a firm belief that they needed to keep doing what they'd always done in the name of loyalty to the Colonial cause. "Kraspo," Starbuck said, "there isn't any point keeping this facility going. The Colonies lost the war to the Cylons, and the last survivors are now fleeing the Home Quadrant. It's only a matter of time before the Cylons find this spot and wipe you out completely." "What?" this time the startled gasp came from both prisoners and Troopers alike. "The reason why I'm in this quadrant to begin with is because the Battlestar Galactica is leading the surviving remnants of the Colonies to a place of safety and we need to scout out what lies in front of us." Starbuck knew he had to give the absolute truth to make the maximum impact. "You're all at risk if you stay here on Destructon. I can help make it possible for you to reach safe haven aboard the Galactica. We're not what you'd call well off, but it's a chance for all of you to finally have some meaning and purpose in your lives again!" he then paused. "And thanks to all that ambrosa on the docks, you can all be very rich people in our society." The prisoners were all out of their cells now, and Starbuck could tell from the looks on the faces of the guards that they didn't have the appetite to resist. The one armed guard had already dropped his weapon, while Kraspo seemed defeated. "We shall all follow you, Starbuck!" Assault said. "Let's get the prisoners in the other cell blocks out and tell the other guards they don't have to follow this space scum's orders any longer." He contemptuously shoved Kraspo aside. The Trooper Captain collided with Forger, who promptly showed his contempt for the man by yanking Kraspo's helmet off and placing it atop his head. "All right then," Starbuck grinned, "let's get going!" ***** It only took a few centons for the prisoners in Starbuck's block to have the rest of the prisoners in the complex freed. By the time they emerged, some eighty prisoners and their families had emerged, with themore than three dozen guards mixing with them. The guards, for the most part, had a sense of relief and acceptance of the new situation, with only Kraspo showing signs of disgruntlement. Nonetheless, all the defiance in the Trooper Captain's spirit was truly history now. "Fresh air," Assault said with a beaming smile as he and Starbuck led the crowd down toward the warehouses and docks. "All these yahrens, moving from that stinking complex to the distilleries, we rarely got to go outside." "That's one of the things freedom's about," Starbuck grinned. "Being able to breath fresh air whenever you want to." "So what do we do once we get to the docks?" Forger asked as he adjusted Kraspo's helmet on his head. "We round up all the available shuttles we can find, and I take off and find a way of signaling the Galactica," Starbuck said. "Once we establish contact, then they can send back shuttles for those of you who can't fit aboard the ships here. No matter what happens though, none of you are going to be left behind." He paused and then grinned. "Of course, we're also going to have to make sure we load as much of this ambrosa as is humanly possibly for transport as well, since that's paramount to our newly acquired wealth. How much do you think is loaded here?" Assault took a glance at an open warehouse where crates were stacked all the way up to the ceiling. "Guv'nuh, there be the fruits of ten generations all piled up around here." "Perfect," Starbuck's grin widened. "I can see it's gonna work out just peachy for all of us." All ready the brash warrior was trying to calculate how many thousands of cubits he'd be able to collect from just one sale of a case of ambrosa. Perhaps enough to pay Zumdish off for yahrens of favors aboard the Rising Star, he thought. At that moment, everyone's head looked up into the night sky. "Ho!" Assault suddenly shouted. "There's a squad craft coming in for a landing!" "Nothing to worry about, my friend," grinned Starbuck, patting his laser gun. "I'll act as a welcoming committee." ***** "Are you positive you can bring this off?" Alpha asked as the fighter lowered toward a landing next to the Destructon prison. "Impersonating a Trooper? Sure," answered Apollo. "You don't look all that convincing in Fedor's uniform, love. Just thought I'd point that out." Apollo guffawed. "No wonder Starbuck's taken a liking to you. You are a feisty one." "I don't think he likes me very much." "Trust me, he...Holy Frak! What's going on down there?" Alpha leaned forward in her seat. "The inmates," she said. "They're rushing out of the damn bloody pesthole." "And that's not usual?" "No, it's not." Apollo concentrated on landing. Having accomplished that, he said, "I think I know what's going on. There's Starbuck." The lieutenant, gun in hand, was strolling over to their ship. Popping the canopy, Apollo dropped to the ground. "You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble for us, old boy," he said. "A simple brass band would've sufficed." "By all that's holy! Starbuck said. "Fancy meeting you here...and you." Very tentatively, Alpha climbed free of the ship. She remained close to it, watching Starbuck. He thrust his gun into his belt and then gave her a big hug. "You have no idea how good it is to see you again." "Let's not overdo it, now," she said, slowly pulling free of him. "There's no need to get so damn...but, well, I missed you too." "See? Didn't I warn you that eventually you'd realize how charming I am?" "Don't let me spoil this reunion," said Apollo. "But I really think we ought to think about departing." "Something wrong?" Starbuck asked him. "Cylons. It's possible we've got some out there gunning for us," said Apollo. ***** Chapter Sixteen: Dogfight! "Well frack that all with a wooden stick, remarked Thor, "we didn't get to have us no damn fun at all. Looks like the fightin' is all over and done with." "I, for one, am glad to see it," Boomer said as they walked over to the others. "G'day, Starbuck," said Thor, saluting him lazily with his metal hand. "Are there maybe some Troopers still holed up inside the prison? Die-hards who won't give up without a pitched battle and lots of violence? "They all gave up just before you guys arrived," the lieutenant informed him. "Frack, felgercarb and shit!" Thor kicked at the high grass. Starbuck gave Boomer a gentle nudge. "Have you feasted your eyes on all these crates surrounding us? Each and every one of them contains bottles of aged ambrosa," he explained, smirking. "Picture, if you will, a situation in which you and I, Boomer, return in triumph to the Galactica with a few cases of aged ambrosa tucked beneath our arms. I'm like a god, y'know, beloved by all and sundry aboard the ship." "Can we please abstain from relating sleep-period fables," suggested Apollo, "and concentrate on the problem at hand?" Booomer asked, "Worried about the Cylons?" The captain said, "And with good reason. Signals were sent on a narrow beam all the way back to Aquaria. Since the Cylons control that particular planet, it's only logical to assume they've picked them up by now." "For Sagan's sake!" Boomer yelled. "Who'd be dumb enough to do that?" "That'd be me, love," Alpha told the black lieutenant. "I didn't know that Aquaria was no longer friendly." Starbuck gave her a reassuring pat on the backside. "No use weeping over spilled ambrosa," he advised. "What we've got to do now is figure out a way to outfox the patrol the Cylons will almost certainly send. Apollo asked, "Any notions about how we do that?" Starbuck hauled out one of his evil-smelling fumarellos. He lit it up and took a drag. "We'll need my new Recon Viper," he said. "And that means returning to the delightful planetoid we just vacated. And getting the crate in flying shape again." "I don't know if there's going to be time for that," said Apollo. "Well, I'm a gambling man, so I'm willing to gamble that we do." Unexpectedly, Starbuck kissed Alpha on the cheek. "Don't go away, my love. I'll return to you as soon as the skies are safe for humanity." "You don't owe me---" "Shush!" he said. "Just follow my instructions and everything should be A-okay." Spinning on his heel, he started for the fighter. "Which of you space loiterers wants to give me a lift?" Boomer looked at Apollo. "I've got a cubit in my pocket. Want me to flip it to see which one of us gets the honor?" "That's not necessary; I'll take him," volunteered Apollo. "I think I know what he's got in mind and...well, it just might work." ***** "Outstanding!" said Boomer. "Do you refer to the way I have, both deftly and swiftly, restored Recon Viper One to flying shape?" Starbuck shut his tool kit and then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "No, to the way you managed to charm that woman," said the lieutenant. "When you and Alpha parted, there were tears in her eyes." "That's probably hayfever," Apollo was looking skyward. "Somewhere along the line, she developed an allergy to him." Wiping his palms on his backside, Starbuck said, "Our day-in, day-out contact aboard the battlestar causes you gents to take me for granted. It's obvious you overlook my many dazzling attributes." "I hope speed is one of them," said Apollo. "It's one of them," Starbuck climbed into his cockpit. "Say, didn't I only meet the young lady a matter of a few---" "Are you still babbling about that terrible tramp?" asked his computer. "Howdy-doo, C.O.R.A," Starbuck strapped himself into his seat. After all that foolishness back on Destructon, hearing that infernal voice again actually felt good. "Did you miss me?" "Not a bit." "Not even a little?" "Not even that much. I made up my mind that if you're going to throw yourself at every beautiful girl that comes down the pike, I'm not going to sit here and fret." "But I always come back to you, my love." Starbuck grinned out at his two friends. "I'll go aloft now, fellas. You stand by to perform your roles in our little surprise for the Cylons." Apollo leaned close to him. "Remember one thing; they're armed and you're not." "How could I forget that?" "Good luck," added Boomer. "Who needs it? With my skill and C.O.R.A's micro-circuitry, it ought to be a piece of cake." He closed himself into the cockpit. Apollo and Boomer moved clear of Recon Viper One. In a moment, after a final grin and wave from Starbuck, the craft went roaring up from the surface of the planetoid. "How many of those tinheads are gonna be keeping us company out here?" said Boomer, watching the Viper climb into the sky. "We'll soon find out," said Apollo. ***** C.O.R.A spotted them first. "Oh my!" she said. "Here they come!" "Give me a visual." "On screen, hon." He noted three blips of greenish light against the dark screen. "Only three?" "Yes, and all armed to the teeth." Exhaling smoke, Starbuck said, "It's showtime, pet. Let's see if we can attract their attention." "You absolutely certain you want to try this, hon?" Starbuck grinned. "It's too late for me to back out now." He punched out a course that would bring him close to the trio of approaching Cylon fighters. "It's going to be three against one," reminded the computer as they rushed toward the peril-fraught rendezvous. "Three against three when Apollo and Boomer join in." "But you don't have any lasers." "I've got a superior brain. That should be armament enough," he said. He could see the three formidable Cylon fighters looming ever larger outside his cockpit window. "They'll fire in point-eight-five centons," the computer informed him. "Okay, sweets, engage turbo-thrusters a micron before they start shooting." "Right you are, Bucky!" "And don't call me Bucky!" The three Cylon ships had altered course and were heading right for Starbuck. Their laser cannons started to fire, etching lines of intense brightness across the darkness. But they didn't come near hitting him. Recon Viper One had accelerated suddenly, swooping out of range. "Hey, that was beautiful!" exclaimed Starbuck as he banked the Viper. "Yes, wasn't it," agreed C.O.R.A. "I spoke too soon, hon. Here they come again. Hold on!" The Cylons were diving, all three ships intent on catching up with Starbuck. He executed a swift turn, accelerated again and once more eluded their banks of laser guns. "What say we spring our trap now?" He banked and headed back for the planetoid. "I bet our Cylon buddies'll like this next little surprise." ***** "He's got 'em occupied," announced Apollo, checking his scanner screen. "Let's do it, Boomer!" Instants later, the captain's Viper blazed up from the planetoid's surface. Boomer brought up the rear. Both Vipers came up behind the trio of Cylon fighters that were intent on Starbuck. Apollo selected the Cylon ship on the far right. He began shortening the gap between them. "Surprise!" he said, firing his port and starboard cannons. The Cylon fighter glowed suddenly. It seemed to hesistate for an instant and then exploded. The pieces rushed away from each other. The ship Boomer had gone after became aware of him before he got in his first shot. It broke formation, veering to the left. Boomer pursued. The third Cylon fighter noticed him too. Banking, it came diving after him. "Whoops! That Cylon's gunnin' for Boomer," Starbuck said. "Poor thing." "Save the pity, C.O.R.A love," said the lieutenant as his mind made a hurried set of calculations. "Hike up the speed." He swung the Viper into an arc. "What do you have in mind?" "I've got to make that Cylon idiot flinch and go off his course," explained Starbuck impatiently. "So we're going to have to cut in between him and Boomer." "That'll be like threading a needle." "Kick us up to maximum speed." "You'll black out from the pressure," C.O.R.A noted. "Yeah, but you won't, kiddo," Starbuck said, feeling totally different about C.O.R.A now than he had before. "You're not human after all." "I'm beginning to regret that," the feminine voice sighed. HHhhhhHhdddHmmm, maybe I should get Wilker to program this voice into something a little more practical, Starbuck mused. "Initiate heading, now!" Apollo witnessed the whole show, but he didn't quite believe it. He'd been swinging his Viper around to give Boomer a hand. He saw that the second Cylon ship was closing in behind the lieutenant. He spoke into his helmet mike to give a warning. But then something came wizzing across the darkness. It sizzled through the narrow gap between Boomer and his pursuer. The Cylon swerved to avoid what he had to believe was a certain collision. Starbuck's ship got through the gap unscathed. ***** "That maneuver of his worked!" Boomer said as he pulled up behind the Cylon fighter he'd been tailing. "These two'll be a cinch now." The image of the fighter blinked on his attack computer, indicating that he was locked onto it. Boomer thumbed the red button and turned the Cylon fighter into jagged, scattering fragments. Even before the explosion had died down, Apollo sneaked up on the remaining Cylon ship, which was still a bit wobbly from its near encounter with Starbuck's lightning-fast Recon Viper One. Apollo fired his lasers and that took care of the last of the Cylon fighters. "You okay, Boomer?" "Mighty fine," answered the lieutenant. "Thanks, one and all for the assistance." "That was a handsome piece of flying, Starbuck." There was no answer. "Starbuck? Come in, Starbuck!" C.O.R.A said, "Oh, the poor boy's out cold. ***** "I told you it would hurt you. Now you're in a stupor, with your poor dear brains all scrambled and goodness knows what else is wrong." The brash warrior had to blink several times before he felt his sense of where he was start to return. "Ohhhh!" he moaned. "That was even worse than the Academy simulator!" "At least you can still mutter." He then glanced around and saw that he was flying through space with no sign of any Cylons anywhere. "We did it!" he grinned. "Of course we did." He rubbed at his cheekbones. "So why are you so glum, dear?" "I thought you were dead or worse." "Only a blackout," he assured her. "Is Boomer all right?" "Yes. Captain Apollo destroyed the Cylon fighter that was after him," answered the computer. "Lieutenant Boomer took care of the other one." "Hey, that's swell," said Starbuck. "Three out of three is one damn fine score." "I think you'd better allow me to run a full physical checkup on you," suggested C.O.R.A "You can't tell what sort of dire and dreadful injuries you may have sustained." "Don't bother. I feel great," he said. "Now, let's return to Destructon." "Must we?" "Duty calls, love." "Duty?" The computer produced a sniffing noise. "It's that dreadful outlaw woman." ***** Chapter Seventeen: "We can't force anybody to come with us." Starbuck thumped himself on the chest. "I guarantee it," he said to Apollo. "I'm in crackerjack shape." "Er...you're just a little bit glassy eyed, good buddy." They were in the Destructon prison docking area, near their just-landed Vipers. "He always looks that way," Boomer pointed out. "I mean more so than usual." Apollo put a hand on Starbuck's shoulder. "You may never know for a long while what that blackout did to you." "Really, granny, I'm fine." Starbuck took out a fumarello. "Not that I don't appreciate the concern, but I'm still healthy." Boomer said, "That was a nice stunt you pulled, scaring that Cylon off my tail." "With my new Viper and my considerable flying skill, it's possible to do some pretty fancy flying," said Starbuck modestly. "The Cylons may well send out more ships." Apollo was watching the freed prisoners who had scattered into small groups around the overgrown spaceport. "Meaning nobody's safe here on Destructon?" asked Boomer. Starbuck ignited his fumarello. "What'd you do, Apollo? Invite all these folks to go back with us to the Galactica?" Apollo nodded. "If we use the shuttles and the enforcer ships we can mount a pretty good caravan that'll---" "Wait a micron," Boomer said. "Getting out of that stinkin' prison is one thing, but leaving the planetoid altogether is something not all of them may be willing to do." "Outside the prison isn't exactly charming either," said Starbuck. "Whatever's going to be done, it'll have to be done fast," said the captain. "We want to be back aboard the Galactica before any more Cylons show up in this quadrant." "What you'd better do, Boomer suggested, "is gather one and all together and make a speech." ***** After the speech, which was short and to the point, Starbuck when searching for Alpha. He found her, sitting alone, at the edge of the field. Perching on a case beside her, he said. "How come you didn't listen to Apollo's speech?" "He and I already talked about that," the beach sand-blonde young woman said. "Bascially I'm a solitary person." "Just like your friend Thor. Are you trying to say you don't want to go?" Alpha shrugged. "Thor and I are alike in some ways," she said. "The truth is...I simply don't think I'm ready for refugee life with your fleet." "Well, it's not like we're going to herd you all into pens," Starbuck said. "I like the life I've established hereabouts. Moving around from asteroid to asteroid," she said. "Nobdy criticizes me if I want to get off by myself once in a while and I do enjoy doing that." He touched her hand. "Then why did you try to contact Aquaria?" he asked her. "Why did you take my ship so you could travel there eventually?" "Merely curious, love," Alpha said. "And restless. Goes with my personal territory." "Look," he said, "if I'm what's worrying you, forget it. I promise I won't heap affection on you once you're settled on the Galactica. I won't even try to make you my best girlfriend." "I wouldn't expect that. You've undoubtedly got all sorts of women who swoon over you back at that fleet." "That isn't the point," he said. "I like you, Alpha. Hades, I've proved that. What I'm saying is, once you get to the Galactica, you won't be Starbuck's little sidekick. You can see as much or as little of me as you want." "Very well. I understand." "That sad little girl tone you're using tells me otherwise," he said. "What I'm really anxious about is that you get your astrum off of Destructon. There's a very strong possibility that more Cylons'll be coming this way before long." She said. "I heard the prisoners talking while you were away. Many of them want to stay here." "Here? On Destructon? Why would any of them ever want to spend another micron on this godforsaken rock!" "It's their home. They believe they can grow enough crops to survive." "The Cylons just might have something to say about that." "Everything in life's a gamble." "I suppose some people would prefer to be farmers and not relocate to the Fleet," he conceded. "But I don't think that applies to you." "True, but---" "I'm not finished," he said, holding up his hand. "How about a compromise? Some of the ex-prisoners will want to come with us. We're going to need good pilots to fly the shuttles and fighters ships. You're an excellent flyer." "There are others just as good." "But not as attractive. Why don't you at least fly a load of passengers to the Battlestar," he suggested. "Take a look around, see if you like things there. If you don't, you'll be free to come back here." Alpha considered his suggestion. "I do owe you a favor," she said, "since I caused you a bit of trouble." "You don't owe me that, but if you want---" "Don't say another word. I'll do it," she said. "Great." He hugged her. ***** "This is tantamount to a mass suicide," said Boomer. "We can't force anyone to come with us," Apollo said. "Look at it this way," put in Starbuck. "We may be able to take care of whatever Cylons stick their noses into this part of the universe." "Tangling with the Cylons isn't my idea of a good time," said the lieutenant. "Agreed. We have no way of knowing how many ships they'll send next time." Apollo moved closer to his Viper. About two dozen of the freed Destructon inmates wanted to come along back to the Galactica. Roughly twice that number had voted to remain. Three commandeered shuttles were loaded with passengers and, at Starbuck's recommendation, crates of the surplus ambrosa. Alpha, who was going to be piloting the lead shuttle, supervised its loading. Starbuck, dragging deeply on his cigar, watched her while he and his fellow warriors talked. "The folks who are staying deserve a chance to make a go of it," said Boomer. "But then, if the Cylons come---" "Starbuck may have a point," said Apollo. "Maybe there is a way to stop that from happening." "Temporarily, yes," said Boomer. "We can only knock out so many of their fighters." "How come you look like you lost your best friend, Boom-boom?" Thor, grinning, had come over to them. Starbuck said, "Boomer always puddles up at farewells and leavetakings." "The Lords of Kobol have a plan for everythin', at least that's what the Good Book says," said Thor. "Folks get together and they separate and it all works out in the end. Most times, anyhow." Starbuck asked him, "You sure you don't want to tag along?" "Yep, but thanks for repeatin' the invite," he said. "I just wasn't meant for livin' with a whole mess of folks, Starbuck." "You'd fit right in on the battlestar," Starbuck told him. "With that trick arm of yours, you'd make a pretty good handyman." "Nope, I aim to stay around here." He pointed skyward with his metal thumb. "Here and over to the planetoid where we first met up." Giving a resigned shrug, Starbuck said, "Okay. Wish you'd come though." Thor leaned closer to him. "Do me one favor though," he said quietly. "Take care of the princess, see she does okay." "Will do," promised Starbuck. ***** Chapter Eighteen: The News Is Good As Baltar sat in the throne chair, he could hear the gliding noise of Lucifer approaching. Almost immediately, he had an inkling of what the IL Cylon was going to tell him. Lucifer himself wondered if this was going to be the time for Baltar to finally do more than just glare at him with disdain. It was all too apparent that this occasion would force the traitor to make some serious decisions, which he had seemingly avoided doing since his rescue from the ruins of Kobol two sectars before. "By your command," the IL Cylon said in that outwardly deferential tone that always made Baltar feel a twinge uneasy. The throne chair spun round. "Speak." "The three fighter ships that were sent to investigate the signals being sent to Aquaria have ceased to communicated. I conclude that they have been destroyed." "Destroyed?" Baltar's eyebrows went up. "How?" "Our command pilot reported before the patrol was destroyed that they detected a planetoid with a small human population, and as they moved in to destroy it, several Colonial vipers emerged. That was the last transmission and there has been nothing since. We can only assume that he and the rest of the ships were destroyed." "So it would seem," Baltar said. The human traitor sunk back in his chair. "Have our retaliation plan ready to be put into effect. It has to be Adama's doing." "A mere several vipers hardly indicates that they came from the Galactica," said Lucifer. "I will be the judge of that, dear Lucifer." "What is your recommendation for us?" There was a pause as Baltar contemplated the situation. "Transmit an epistle regarding our plan, 'Operation Galactica" to the Imperious Leader at once," he finally said. "Meanwhile, dispatch three more ships to the region." "By your command." Bowing deeply, the IL Cylon left the room. ***** Aboard the Galactica, Adama decided not to bother with another mug of nearcaf. After six mugs of the dark liquid, he'd found he'd lost his taste for it. "Commander," Tigh came over to him. "You've been on station here the last eight centars. I think you should resume sleep cycle immediately." "That won't be easy after all I've consumed," Adama smiled mirthlessly as he absently held up his empty java mug. "Still...I suppose you're right." "Commander!" Omega called over. "We're picking up three ships entering Delta Quadrant. Scanning now for identification." Adama and Tigh didn't move from their position as they waited for the Bridge Officer's report. "Commander, we have confirmation of Recon Viper One, and also of Blue Squadron patrol!" he put his hand to his earpiece. "Captain Apollo reports Recon Viper one and its pilot are in good shape, all Cylon fighters destroyed and Destructon quadrant cleared." Adama nodded. "The victory is ours, for the time being at least." "There's more," Omega said. "I'm reading other ships with him." "Other ships?" Omega looked down at the scanner again, pressing the earpiece even tighter to his head. "It's a convoy of several shuttles bringing people who've been rescued from the asteroid Destructon." "We can accommodate them, I'm sure." "Apollo also goes on to say that most of our visitors have been residing in a prison complex on Destructon." "They're criminals?" There was a pause as Tigh and Omega conferred. After a micron, it was Tigh who spoke up. "Apollo has given his personal assurance that they're not. He'll explain everything when he arrives, with some help from Lieutenant Starbuck." "Yes, I imagine Starbuck will have quite a report to make." Adama glanced toward the window and the endless night outside. "I've alerted the launch bays." Commander Adama said, "The Cylons don't like being beaten." "Few warriors do." "They'll almost certainly send more ships out here." "We'll be ready for them." "See that we are," said the commander. ***** Athena sat alone at a table in the Main Dining Hall of the Rising Star. Her slim back was turned to the view windows and she seemed to be concentrating on the forefinger she was tapping against the side of her glass. "Mind if I join you?" "I guess not...oh, it's you." Cassiopeia took the chair opposite. "Feeling downhearted?" "A little bit. And you're not exactly helping to lighten my mood any." The blonde smiled tentatively. "I dropped over to suggest a truce," she said. Looking up, Athena said, "We're not at war." "I know." "In order to have a war, the two opposing parties have to be contesting the ownership of some valuable piece of property." Cassiopeia said, "And you're implying that Starbuck isn't valuable to feud over?" "Right," replied Athena. "On top of which I'm not at all interested in owning him---even for a short spell of time." "He is sort of a rat, isn't he? Attempting to take us both to dinner, pretending that each of us was---" "Starbuck wouldn't have tried that, dear, unless you'd forced yourself on him." "Me?" Cassiopeia touched her breast. "It was you, sweet, who horned in on me!" "Look, are we talking war or are we talking truce?" "You're right," Cassiopeia relaxed in her chair. "I think you've adopted the right attitude. He's not worth fighting over." "Not now, anyway." She sat up. "What's so special about now?" she asked, frowning. "He's safely on his way home, isn't he?" "Sure. But he's bringing several shuttles full of young women with him." "He is? How'd he manage that?" "They're escaped convicts or something," explained Athena. "He rescued them off an asteroid. The details in Apollo's message were sketchy." "Why do you blame Starbuck? Maybe Boomer or your brother is responsible for bringing them back." Athena tilted her head, eying the other young woman. "Do you really doubt that it's Starbuck who came up with the idea?" "Nope." "My point exactly." ***** Chapter Nineteen: "I think we have another battle coming up" C.O.R.A said, "It's a real shame." "What is?" inquired Starbuck. "The way you're carrying on," she told him. "I was under the impression I was carrying on admirably." "As an example," said C.O.R.A, "let me mention the manner in which you're behaving at this very moment." "Ah, I get your drift, girlfriend." He had cut the speed of his Recon Viper One and dropped back to see how the shuttle that Princess Alpha was piloting fared at this moment. "Here you have a ship," said the computer, "free to dance among the stars and you're dawdling back here like---" "We're escorting these ships back to the battlestar," he reminded her. "That means we keep an eye on them. This isn't a race." "From what I've seen of that hussy, she can more than take care of herself." "You're letting Alpha's front fool you," the lieutenant said. "Inside she's not so tough." "And my, isn't that a lovely name? W on't that sound just marvelous after you're married? How do you do? My name's Alpha Starbuck and---" "Whoa, there, C.O.R.A," he broke in. "I don't intend to get hitched to Alpha or anyone else. Simply because I take an interest in a young lady doesn't mean I want to marry her." "I know all about the kind of interest you take in young women, hon. I've scanned your dossier." "Then you should know what a nice cleancut fellow I am." He took out a fumarello and lit it. "Women think of me as the protector of their best interests." "Felgercarb!" "Wilker sure built some strange stuff into you," observed Starbuck. "I'm starting to think you're jealous." "Uh-oh!" exclaimed the computer. "What?" "I'm getting something on my scanners," C.O.R.A. replied. "Cylons?" "Afraid so, hon," she answered ruefully. "Three more of them, coming right this way." ***** Alpha had been trying to concentrate on piloting the shuttle, not wanting to think about what things would be like aboard the battlestar Galactica. She was aware of Starbuck's viper out there keeping an eye on her. She was really going to have to sort out her feelings. "...don't you?" Alpha realized that Assault, who was sitting in the seat beside her, had asked her a question. "What's that?" "I was saying we're doing the right thing," the bearded man repeated. "I agree." "But I get the feeling that you haven't made up your mind." "I think I have." "How long have you known him?" "Starbuck? Not very long at all." Assault scratched his beard. "I suspected as much, but I got the impression the two of you had grown pretty close." "It's been known to happen. You meet somebody, you feel as though you've been friends all along." "Tough for me to judge," he said. "You know how it was in the prison. You grew up with the same people, the same Troopers, even. There wasn't much chance to meet anyone new." "You'll sure have a chance to meet new people on the Galactica," Alpha told him. "Every kind of people." Nodding, Assault said, "You've always had more spunk than most of us. Leaving prison when you were just a kid, going out on your own." "At seventeen yahrens old I wasn't exactly a kid," Alpha said. "After my mother died, I knew that I had to get out and away." "Sounds like you're going to stay with the Galactica." "I am," she answered. "Until the next time I get restless, at least." He stared out the window for a moment. "Aren't you the least bit scared?" Alpha said, "A little uneasy, I'll admit. I'm not exactly what you'd call a proper lady and I don't want to be taken for some kind of backwater bumpkin." Assault chuckled. "That's one thing I'm sure you won't be taken for," he assured her. "We'll see." "Oh, I know what's bothering you. You reckon that when Starbuck gets a look at you alongside the ladies of the Galactica, he'll decide you're not sophisticated enough." "Something like that." Assault scratched his wiskers again. "Of course, I haven't seen any of those ladies myself but I think you'll measure up okay." "Thank you," she said. "It's going to be different, living on a gigantic spacecraft that's always on the move." "Won't be as cramped as prison," she said. "And eventually, according to what Captain Apollo said, the Galactica will reach its destination." "Earth," murmured Assault. "What a bunch of daggit drivel." "I believe in it, same as their commander does." "Why in bloody Hades would you accept a fairy tale like that as true?" "Mostly because the Mad Hatter believed in it so intensely. My mother said he was always carrying on about---" "Hold on to your hats kids," came Starbuck's voice out of the talkbox on the control panel. "Or better yet, man your defense guns." "What is it?" asked Alpha. "Reliable sources, namely my trusty computer C.O.R.A, inform me that there are more Cylons on the way." "That sounds bad," said Alpha. "Things could be worse." "How?" After a micron he answered, "I can't think of any examples right now. So get your guns ready, keep a weather eye out and cross your fingers. Looks like we got another battle coming up." ***** Starbuck asked, "You see 'em yet, Apollo?" "Yep, here they come now," answered the captain. "I count three ships." "That's not so bad. They could've sent half a dozen the next time around." "I have a feeling that's what they'll try next." "I'm going to hang back here and watch out for the shuttles," said Starbuck into his talkmike. "Those crates are armed," said Apollo, "but I don't think they're any match for Cylon fighters." "We'll have to make do with what we've got." "Talk to you soon, chum. Got to greet our visitors." Starbuck took a drag on his fumarello and squinted out his cockpit window. Far ahead in the darkness of space he could just make out the two Vipers going into action against the oncoming Cylon ships. He picked up his talkmike once again, and contacted Alpha. "I've got visual contact with our friends now," he told her. "Three fighters, like the ones we tangled with earlier." "Do you think Apollo and Boomer can hold them off?" "I'll bet on it, but...Holy Frack! Apollo just took out one of 'em!" The exploding Cylon fighter made an enormous splash of red and yellow across the blackness. "Be jolly good if they'd frag the other two," came Alpha's voice. "Because when we checked our laser guns, Starbuck, we've just now discovered that we have only one of them functioning." "What?" Didn't anybody bother to look the guns over before we left?" "We took our leave, if you recall, in something of a hurry." "Yeah, I remember." "We've got Forger tinkering with the guns," she told him. "He's handy with gadgets." "Handy isn't good enough right now; he's got to be fast." "I can dodge pretty well," Alpha said. "So maybe---" "Hold on! A Cylon's gotten past Boomer and he's coming our way." "At you?" "I think," said Starbuck, "he's got you in mind, kid." ***** "Frack! Felgercarb and shit!" remarked Lieutenant Boomer. He executed a loop to get on the tail of the Cylon fighter that had managed to outfox him. It was now racing toward the first shuttle ship. "She's a tough lady," said Boomer, "but I don't think she can outfly that Cylon. Not in a clunky crate like that." He increased his speed, narrowing the distance between him and the fighter. Then Boomer became aware of Starbuck. Starbuck was diving straight at the Clyon. He was racing across space at nearly max speed. There was no way he could avoid colliding with the Cylon. "Starbuck," yelled Boomer into his helmet mike, "pull up you idiot! You'll smash!" Starbuck was hunched in the pilot seat of Recon Viper One, fumarello clenched in his teeth. "Don't let me down, C.O.R.A. my love." "One of these days," she chided, "your daredevil ways are going to be the death of you." "Got a hunch today ain't the day, love." "The odds in favor of our smashing right into this Cylon craft and---" "In my wild youth we used to play a similar game in uniflyers," he informed the computer as the rushed down toward the fighter that was stalking Alpha. "We called the game Chicken." "A chidish male---" "Stand by C.O.R.A" If the Cylon didn't flinch and dodge out of Starbuck's path, there was going to be an impressive collision. ***** "Bloody fool!" said Assault. "He's done for." "Starbuck knows what he's doing," insisted Alpha as she strived to maneuver the rattletrap shuttle away from the pursuing Cylon fighter. "What he's doing is committing suicide, said the bearded man. The Cylon gave in at the last instant, pulling up and flashing away from the shuttle. Starbuck's viper whizzed across the path of the slow-moving shuttle. Lieutenant Boomer's viper came roaring over. Before the Cylon could complete its turn, Boomer's guns sliced across the blackness. The lethal arrows of orange light dug into the belly of the Cylon fighter. The ship began vibrating, shiving and shuttering, and then it blew up. Alpha sighed. "He saved us!" she said. "Everybody intact aboard?" inquired Starbuck. "We are. What about you?" "Fit as a fiddle and ready to rocket," he answered. "I didn't realize how suicidal you were, but thanks." "Don't start sounding like my beloved C.O.R.A," Starbuck warned. "It ain't suicide when you know exactly what you're doing. And in case our late Cylon chum hadn't buzzed off, I still could've swerved and tried another trick or two." "I appreciate your interest," she said. "You may not have noticed," added Starbuck, "but Apollo took care of the remaining Cylon while Boomer and I were playing games here. Therefore, kiddo, we ought to have a safe and sound journey home. ***** Chapter Twenty: Home Again "By your command." "Speak," Baltar said waving his hand. "Imperious Leader has received our message and is sending one of his own direct from the homeworld. He wishes to speak to you directly." "Then I shall speak with him," he rose from his throne chair. The human traitor walked at a brisk pace into the next room, where the communications array was. With a calm, collected expression, he flicked on one of the console switches. In an instant, Imperious Leader's face filled the screen. "By your command," Baltar bowed slightly and kept his tone deferential. "We can dispense with formalities, Baltar," the Cylon ruler sounded thoroughly displeased, "I want a full status report, now." Baltar sucked in his breath, "Three of our fighters were dispatched to the Destructon quadrant to investigate a mysterious transmission beamed at Aquaria. When that patrol failed to return, We dispatched three more. We now presume that all six fighters have been destroyed." "And you are certain the Galactica's warriors are responsible for it?" the Leader's question was pointed. "What is the status of the Galactica and her fleet?" the Leader resumed. "The sector our patrols were investigating have human settlements on the planetoids, apparently a forgotten part of the Colonial Frontier. Where there are humans, there will no doubt be the Galactica. I am preparing to deal with her as soon as you and I are through talking," Baltar spoke with renewed confidence. "We are ready to launch an assault that will guarantee the Galactica's destruction." "You indicated as much in your message." Imperious Leader said with a hint of skepticism. "I would like to hear of this plan." "I have spent the last two days, arming our squadrons for a special mission," he said, "Our fighters are being packed with solonite, and will be instructed to ram the Galactica. The combination of that and the solonite in the fighters will set-off a chain reaction of explosions that will destroy the Galactica without the need for any sustained battle." There was a brief silence from the other end of the transmission. "Baltar," the Leader said, "You are aware that by loading your fighters with solonite, you are all but insuring that they will be totally powerless in direct engagements with the Galactica's vipers." "I'm aware of that," Baltar admitted, "That's why I'm loading as many fighters as I can. The greater volume will insure that some will break-through the defense lines and be able to ram the Galactica." Imperious Leader was silent again. "After what has gone on in the last two sectans," Baltar resumed, "I do not believe that a conventional assault will be sufficient, and," he paused briefly, "As the only combat-ready basestar in this quadrant, I don't believe it wise to engage the Galactica in a direct ship-to-ship confrontation at this time." "Agreed," the Cylon ruler seemed to sigh in resignation, "Your plan has my approval. Carry it out. Inform me of how events develop when you can." Baltar allowed himself a faint grin, "By your command." The human traitor again bowed slightly as the Cylon ruler's face faded from the screen. With the transmission ended, Baltar turned to Lucifer, and grinned more broadly. "Launch all fighters, Lucifer." It took Lucifer all his strength to reply, "By your command," as he then turned and glided out of the room as fast as his circuits would allow. ***** Starbuck said, "C.O.R.A, I want to thank you for a most interesting jaunt." He unfastened his safety gear. "I guess this is goodbye," said the computer in a disheartened voice. "I'm sure we'll be flying together again someday," Starbuck glanced out at the Galactica docking area. The pit crew moved toward his just-landed ship. "I...I'm going to miss you much." "I'll miss you too, love." Popping the canopy, he climbed out and jumped to the ground. C.O.R.A made a sad, sighing sound. Starbuck stretched, scratched, dug out a fresh fumarello. "I'm amazed," said Apollo, walking to Starbuck's side. "By what? The sheer artistry of my flying?" "Your incredible luck." "Luck? Hades! That was skill, pure skill." The moved over to the area where the shuttles would be docking. "I will admit you handled that new Viper damn well." "I sure did," agreed Starbuck, pausing to ignite his fumarello. "Think she'll fit in?" The first shuttle was docking now. "Princess Alpa? Sure, she can handle just about anything life tosses at her." "She's fond of you, you know." "What woman isn't?" Starbuck frowned and turned serious for a moment. "I know. I feel responsible for her and...I like her too." "What's the catch, bud?" "I'm just not ready to limit myself to one woman." "I think she knows that, old buddy." Starbuck nodded. "Well, let's go over and play reception committee," he suggested. ***** Athena said, "Which one do you think it is?" Cassiopeia said, "Why limit ourselves to one? It could be a whole bunch." The two young women were standing at the edge of the group that was watching the shuttles dock and unload their passengers. "That brown-haired girl there?" suggested Athena. "Nope." Cassiopeia gave a negative shake of her head. "She's too...um...ample." "You're right. Starbuck prefers blondes." "Depends on the blonde, dear." "How about the redhead?" "Too skinny," decided Cassiopeia. "Starbuck does sometimes show an interest in underweight women, as you know, but---" "There he is, pushing his way up to the disembark doors of that shuttle." "Yes, and he's getting rid of his fumarello." "That means," concluded Athena, "that he's getting ready to greet someone special." "That big man with the beard? That can't be right." "Well, they are shaking hands---very cordially." "I know Starbuck. He didn't elbow his way up there just to pass out a genial handshake." "You're right. Look at him now," said Athena with a disapproving edge to her voice. "He's giving a real bearhug to that filthy almond-eyed girl." "Good Kobol! She can't be more than twenty yahrens---if she's that old!" "Slightly taller than he is, too." "He always said he wanted a woman he could look up to. I never thought he meant it literally." "Look at the way she's returning his embrace," pointed out Cassiopeia. "She's clearly fond of him." "Do you think that what she's wearing is the latest fashion here in the Alpha Quadrant?" "I hope not. Those trousers of hers are only a few steps from being rags." "I don't think much of her hair," observed Athena. "Too long and unkempt." "Color's pretty, though. Sort of a sandy blonde." "Maybe that's not her real color. She could be a dyed socialator." Athena sighed, shaking her head. "Do you think the new Viper has possibly affected his brain?" "He was already showing lapses in taste before he took off," said Cassiopeia. "When he took you to dinner, I knew something was going on wrong." "I'm not talking about his lapses in taste before he left," said Athena. "Even though his being seen with you indicates some kind of extreme mental---" "Look, we better not quarrel. What's obviously called for is a united front." Athena nodded. "You're absolutely right, Cass," she agreed. "We must unite against a common enemy." "Once we've taken care of her, then we can get back to our own...oops! Watch out, Starbuck seems to be bringing her right over here to us!" "Ladies," said Starbuck, grinning as he guided Alpha up to the two of them. "I wan't you to meet a good friend of mine. I'm sure you're all going to get along just swell." "Of course we will," smiled Athena. "Oh, I can see we're going to become fast friends," smiled Cassiopeia. ***** Alpha was sitting on the edge of the bunk, legs dangling. Her left eye was slightly narrowed and she was taking in the cabin she'd been assigned to. "Homier than a prison cell," she decided, "if not a lot bigger." Standing, she explored the room. She opened a door and observed, "Jolly good plumbing facilities, too." Pausing, she studied her image in the mirror on the inside of the door. She was going to have to shape up some. She did look a little wild and unkempt, compared to the women she'd seen so far on the Galactica. "First thing to do is wash up, then try on these new clothes they gave me." Someone was tapping on the door of her quarters. "Come right in, love," she invited. "You have to activate the door, kiddo." "Dreadfully sorry, I forgot." She scooted over to tap the right botton. "Now come in." Starbuck, decked out in a fresh warrior uniform, stood on the threshold. He clutched a bunch of crimson flowers in his right hand; in his left was a smoldering fumarello. "For you my love," he said, handing in the bouquet and then coming into the room himself. "They're pretty," she said as she took the flowers. "Finest bio-synthetic blooms to be found aboard the entire battlestar," he assured her. Smiling, Alpha placed them on a small table. "Flowers always brighten up a room," she said. "Sit someplace, why don't you?" "Don't mind if I do." He settled into one of the cabin's two chairs. "How do you like our flying juggernaut?" "It's...okay." "It takes time to get used to it." "You remember our agreement." She sat again on the edge of the bunk. "I'm only trying this out. I can take off anytime." "But of course. After all, it's a battlestar, not a prison." "I know, the plumbing's too good for that," she said. "So just make sure nobody junks that shuttle I flew in on. I may want to use it again someday." He grinned. "This evening, or what passes for evening hereabouts, we're going to have a sort of celebration in the Rejuvenation Center," he informed her. "To welcome all you pilgrims to the Fleet. Music, dancing, libations and good, clean family fun." Alpha shrugged. "Sounds lovely, but...do you really want me to go?" "Why not?" She answered. "Those two birds you introduced me to. Athena and Cassiopeia...I didn't miss the way they were inspecting me from head to toe." "Jealousy, my pet, clean and easy." "No, they're both affectionate towards you." She brushed at her long beach sand-blonde hair. "They were obviously wondering why in Hades you were showing an interest in some wild savage from the astrum-end of space." "I've seen a few savages in my days," Starbuck said. "You aren't one, Alpha." "There's another problem," the young woman said. "When you told them my full name, one of them could hardly keep from turning her nose up at me and the other one just looked stunned." "Well, you should drop the princess line, not being royalty and all," he pointed out. "And naming yourself after the quadrant, well, that's hardly original either." "I should have a proper name, I agree," she told him with conviction. "My mother never knew our family house. That's one of the reasons I was anxious to reach Aquaria, to find out who I really am." "You're not going to be able to do that, not with the Cylons in control of the planet," he said. "Tell you what...Why don't we just pick a new name for you? One you can use until you find out the true and authentic one." "I suppose I could do that," Alpha said. "Any suggestions?" "How about Caeljumbe? It's ancient Pisconese for 'sky queen." "Caeljumbe? Sounds like a name one of those cat beings on Ebem might go by," she said, "and a nasty cat being at that." "It was only a suggestion." "Do you like the sound of Caeljumbe?" "Yep," he said. "It's got a certain lilt." "I'll take it under consideration," she said finally. "But I'm not promising anything." "Feel free to pick one of your own," Starbuck stood up. "Got to take my leave. But if you don't mind, I'll drop by this evening to escort you to the festivities." "You don't have to." "I know I don't have to," he said. "I want to." "Okay then, it's a date." Crossing the room, she gave him a quick but careful kiss on the cheek. "Thanks again for everthing." ***** Apollo paced his father's quarters as he spoke. "So that's the story of Destructon and its prison," he concluded. "Incredible," said Colonel Tigh, who sat in a chair across from Adama. "Going on like that, generation after generation, cut off from everything." "In a way," observed the commander, who sat with his chin resting on steepled fingers, "their situation parallels ours." "But we have a mission and a purpose." "They thought they did, too," said Adama. "You're not suggesting we're as deluded as they are?" "Absolutely not." Commander Adama smiled. "Only that I noted some similarities. At any rate, we shall do everything in our power to make them welcome in our Fleet." Apollo sat down. "There's also the problem of those who chose to stay behind on Destructon." "Yes. If the Cylons learn o fthem," said the colonel, "they're doomed." Adama asked his son. "Do they have anything in the way of defenses?" "Some antiquated fighter ships, a few shuttles similar to the ones you saw earlier. The ships are armed with laser weapons, but not one is a match for a Cylon fighter." "We better make sure the Cylons decidethis particarly quadrant isn't worth the trouble." "Lessons like that," pointed out the colonel, "are difficult to teach." "We'll find a way." Apollo asked, "You're expecting them to send more fighters out here, aren't you?" "I am, yes." Tigh leaned forward in his chair. "I anticipate a new Cylon attack, too," he said. "In light of that, do you think it's wise to hold the welcoming party this evening?" Commander Adama said, "Yes, since it will make our new guests feel at home and it will be good for the morale of our people." "If there's an attack---" "---we'll be ready," Adama assured him. ***** Chapter Twenty-One: A Spoiled Celebration As the Battlestar Galactica and her fleet of 220 ships left the Destructon Sector behind her, Colonel Tigh gave his report as Adama entered the bridge. "All scanners reporting clear at this time." "Good," the Galactica commander sat down. "All squadrons are now on Yellow Alert status," Tigh added, "But Commander, there are a lot of pilots and other warriors who've went through a lot a few days earlier. I would strongly recommend that those who've gone the longest without rest, be granted permission to attend the welcoming party for our new travelers this evening." The commander nodded, "Probably a good idea, Colonel. But just to be on the safe side, do it for only the top five percent on the list." "Boomer will be glad to hear that," Tigh said, "He came up to me after he landed, and reminded me that he'd been at the top for almost a sectan." "He's a good warrior. He deserves it." ***** Starbuck took his fumarello from between his lips. "Wow!" he remarked. Smiling tentatively, Alpha asked him, "Do I look okay?" He nodded affirmatively, moving into her room from the corridor. "You did something to your hair." "I washed and cut it." Starbuck scrutinized her new hairstyle. What it lacked in length it made up for in volume as it expanded outward from her head. "This is called a bouffant," she continued, indicating her puffy do. "I went through a lot of suffering to get this look, can-sized hair rollers and all that rubbish. My mother told me that many Colonial women wore their hair this way back when our original sinners were first sentenced to Destructon." "Looking at you makes me wish they still did." Starbuck found himself wondering how a "bouffant" would look on Athena or Cassiopeia. "You're using makeup." Her almond eyes were dramatic now, featuring mascara used heavily to produce spiked lashes. Her skin was pale, probably from a translucent foundation. Her lips were pale and glittering with no dark shades showing. "Do you think it's too much? I devoted more centons to my face than I'm sure most women care to devote today." "No, it's just right." He held his fumarello at arm's length before sniffing the air. "Perfume, too?" "Some cerulean body spray with beyrl accretions on the flask's bottom. Supposed to smell like wild grapes, but I've never sniffed any wild grapes that smelled this musky. Not too strong, is it?" "It's very delicate, so don't worry." Taking a step back from him, she held her arms at her side. "Now, about these clothes, Starbuck? Just standard issue, but do they look okay and fit right?" "Yep," he assured her, "yep, they fit. Just fine." "Why are you looking at me in that dippy, sort of cockeyed way?" The lieutenant shook his head. "You're...really...pretty?" "Hadn't you noticed that up till now?" "Oh, I noticed, all right...but you didn't look like this out on the asteroids and planetoids, kid." "That's because I was wearing my work clothes," she explained. "But...Hades Hole...once I got a look at the competition around here, I realized I better upgrade my image." "You've damn well succeeded, love." "I don't want you to feel responsible for me in any way," Alpha said. "But there are still people aboard this...battlestar...Athena and Cass to name just two...who are going to think of me as your little sidekick. For a while, anyhow. So I want to make sure you're not embarrassed by me." "You can lay those feelings to rest, Alpha." "And I've decided I will be Caeljumbe," she said. "For now at least." Grinning, he offered her his arm. "Caeljumbe," he invited, "allow me to escort you to the celebration." ***** As he walked down the corridor from the launch bay, Apollo suddenly noticed Athena and an enthusiastic Boxey, who was followed as always by his beloved robot daggit Muffit coming in the other direction. "Hi Dad," Boxey smiled his widest grin at him. "Glad you're home." "Glad to be home," Apollo smiled back and ran his hand through his son's hair, "Where are you three off to?" "The Rejuvenation Center," Athena said, "I've been granted leave to attend the welcoming party. I'm going to spend that time taking on Boxey at every game in sight." "The way he plays, you'll need all the luck you can get," her brother said. "Can you come along Dad?" Boxey asked, "You can play the winner." His father shook his head, "I'm on Yellow Alert status, now, Boxey. I'm afraid I'll have to pass this time." Apollo leaned down and patted the robot daggit, "Look after them, will you Muffy?" The robot let out a friendly yelp and wagged its tail. "And another thing," he whispered slyly, "Don't bark if you sniff out more mushies. He eats too many of them as it is." "See you later," Athena resumed walking and waved at them. "See you," Apollo waved back as Boxey and Muffit followed them. ***** The Galactica's Rejuvenation Center was located deep in the interior of the warship. Designed to provide a different form of leisure activity than the Officer's Club did, it boasted more than twelve different types of computer and table games. Not only was it popular with all the children and civilians aboard the Galactica, many off-duty warriors could often be found here, using the games as a means of improving reflex action and hand coordination. Lt. Jolly was among the first to notice Alpha as she made her appearance there. Smoothing his moustache, he came ambling across the Center to Starbuck. "Great to see you back safe and sound, Starbuck," he said, his eyes on the new and improved version of Alpha as he extended his hand to the lieutenant. Starbuck shook hands. "Like you to meet a friend of mine. Al... Caeljumbe, this is the one and only Lt. Jolly. Jolly, Caeljumbe." Jolly, much to Starbuck's surprise, clicked his boothed heels, bowed, took Alpha's right hand and planted a kiss on it. "Charmed," he said. "So am I, Lieutenant," she said, smiling. "I've heard a great deal about you since I arrived." "You have?" Starbuck said, "Mostly dire warnings, I imagine." "Some of the girls dropped in to say hello," explained Alpha. "Naturally, they got around to mentioning their favorite men aboard the Galactica." Chuckling, Lieutenant Jolly asked, "And I was one of 'em, right?" "Your name just about headed the list." "Fancy that," said Jolly, chuckling further. "It's hard to believe, isn't it?" Starbuck glanced around the lounge. He was less than pleased to notice that several other young warriors had detached themselves from their groups to come heading this way. "If we should get separated, Caeljumbe," he said, "you have but to let out a yell and I'll come to the rescue." Jolly told her, "Why, you're in no danger here." Four more warriors converged on them. ***** "Well Boxey, you did it to me again," Athena said with only the faintest trace of exasperation as the little boy's shot across the table landed in the empty pocket at her end. Boxey came over to her end of the table and perched himself on the side, "Yeah, isn't this fun, Athena?" "That's a pretty easy thing to say when you're winning, Boxey," a voice from the other end of the room by the doorway said. Athena looked up in surprise and saw Boomer come up to them, "What are you doing here, Boomer? Apollo said that Blue Squadron was now on Yellow Alert." The warrior's tone was relaxed, as he knelt alongside of where Boxey was seated, "Well, even Blue Squadron pilots get time off once in a while. Once I reminded Colonel Tigh that I'd been at the top of the list for a sectan, that finally got things in motion." "Now that's the mark of someone who's really been out in space too long," Athena smirked, "Throwing your weight around with the executive officer." "Hey, it paid off, didn't it? Now all I have to do for the next twenty-four centars is relax and bid welcome to the newcomers from Destructon." "Want to play compartment billyarks with me?" Boxey asked him, "I'm pretty good." "Oh?" he looked at the little boy quizzically, then shot a glance at Athena who shook her head in indication of the futility she'd been going through. "You're on," Boomer said as Muffit crawled on top of the table from the other side and came over to where the three were congregated. "You'll be sorry, Boomer," a well-built warrior wearing the insignia of a Colonial security guard smiled and shook a finger of warning as he headed for the door to leave. "Come on Kulanda," Boomer replied good-naturedly to the man he had recently been partnered with in the new Triad league that had been organized. "A Colonial Security guard is never much of a challenge for a boy of six." "At least we do better than a Council Security goon would, "Sergeant Kulanda grinned as he stepped out. "He's got a point," Boomer admitted, "A boy of three could handle a guy like Reese in half a micron." "Agreed," Athena nodded. "Still want to play?" Boxey asked. Absolutely," Boomer nodded, "And if you beat me, I got a surprise for you." "Mushies," there was no surprise in Boxey's voice as the robot settled next to him. "How's a guy supposed to keep a secret around here?" Boomer lifted an eyebrow in amazement. "I just trained him to sniff out mushies," he looked down at his pet with pride. "Is there nothing he can't do?" the warrior said as he got to his feet, "Okay, set them up and let's see if you can live up to your past glories." Just then, the relaxed atmosphere of the Rejuvenation Center was shattered by the sound of the Red-Alert klaxon. The warning light above the compartment door cast its eerie glow throughout the room. "Oh boy," Boomer's shoulders sagged in disappointment, "So much for the stabilized situation." ***** Starbuck hurried toward the exit. Alpha caught him by the arm. "What in bloody Hades is it this time?" "A Cylon raid would be my guess." She lowered her head. "I was afraid of that," she said. "It's my fault for being stupid enough to try to contact my original sinner's home planet." "Hey, we've been having trouble with the Cylons for quite a spell now," he said. "Long before you came along." "Yes, but you know what I mean." "We'll have a nice long talk soon as I get back from the wars," he promised. She tightened his grip on his arm. "Can't I do something?" "Stick here and keep all our new arrivals from panicking," he suggested. "A Cylon raid on their first day here can't make 'em feel any too chipper." "You got it." She kissed him on the cheek. "Hurry back." "Such is my intention." He left her, left the big Rejuvenation Center. Lieutenant Jolly fell in beside him and they moved along a corridor together. "What's the story?" "Cylons are probably attacking us and---" "No, I mean with you and Caeljumbe," said the moustached lieutenant impatiently. "I noticed that leavetaking just now. She likes you." "Sure, that's why she spent the evening allowing oafs like you to flop all over her." "Aw, it's not who they chichat with at the party that's important," Jolly told him, "it's who they go home with. Or is that whom?" "Either way it's felgercarb." "If I get back from this mission," said Jolly, "I intend to try to cut you off. Just thought I'd be fair and warn you." "If you get back?" Starbuck shook his head. "Quit talking like that, Jolly, or we're all dead." ***** Chapter Twenty-Two: Secure The Battlestar! Commander Adama entered the Galactica bridge. "Report." The wail of warning alarms and the slamming of metal doors echoed all around. When the commander reached a scanner screen, Colonel Tigh said, "They appear to be mounting a major attack." Adama, brows knit, watched the blips of light moving ominously across the screen. "One thousand Cylon fighters," he observed. "And they're coming right for us," said Tigh. "Not heading for Destructon or the other asteroids out there." "They may not know there's any human life on the asteroids," the commander said. "If we stop them, it's possible they'll never find out." "The Cylons certainly know we're here." "That was, quite probably, inevitable." "And we have that young woman who tried to contact Aquaria to thank for this mess," said the colonel as he watched the screen. "They tell me she's aboard Galactica now." "Yes. I met her when our new guests arrived. "Is Blue Squadron ready to launch?" "A few microns yet," said Tigh. "Many of the warrior pilots are still at the party, so it's taking them longer to man their ships." "I'm still glad we had the celebration." "I wasn't implying any criticism, Commander, simply stating facts." Adama nodded. "The young lady, Princess Alpha she calls herself, piloted one of the shuttles," he said. "I don't believe she deliberately tried to contact the Cylons." "You're taking her on face value?" "No," said the commander. "Both Starbuck and my son vouch for her. And that counts for something." "Didn't this same young woman try to murder Starbuck?" "Not according to the lieutenant's report," said Adama. "There was simply a misunderstanding during which Lieutenant Starbuck happened to get hit, quite accidentally, on the head." "I haven't met the young woman," said Colonel Tigh. "I'm assuming, however, that she's attractive." "Very much so," said Adama. "But I've never found, Colonel, that a pretty woman is any less trustworthy than a plain one." "I don't imagine Lieutenant Starbuck has either." The Red Alert klaxon wailed with even greater intensity, and some of the bridge personnel who were attached to reserve squadrons got to their feet and dashed off the bridge. "No telling what we could be in for. Colonel Tigh, prepare the Galactica for heavy attack." The executive officer nodded and moved off to another part of the bridge. Adama then turned to Omega. "Secure all compartments." The bridge officer flicked several switches. One by one, all the doors to each room and compartment aboard the great battlestar began to slide shut. ***** The tempo of activity in the launch bays picked up as the remaining pilots arrived and got into their ships. Within microns, all those who had arrived were away. The darkly attractive Jenny, who was the lead supervisor for the ground-crew attached to Blue Squadron frowned as the last vipers took off. During all that time, she hadn't seen anything of Boomer. As she saw the compartment doors slide shut, she knew that no matter where he was, the pilot she regarded as one of the best aboard the Galactica was going to miss the battle. She hoped his absence wouldn't be as costly as she feared it might be. ***** Starbuck shot a quick glance over to where Recon Viper One was sitting, then climbed into his regular Viper. "Gonna miss you, C.O.R.A.," he said. "But I'm gonna need my guns this time out." He strapped himself in, shut the cockpit and began checking out his instruments. "Gonna miss that extra speed too." ***** "Will you have to go?" there was an obvious air of disappointment in Boxey's voice as he looked up at a tense Boomer. "Technically, I don't have to," Boomer said as the sound of the first Red Alert continued to wail throughout the Rejuvenation Center, "Still, I think I'd better put off my fun for another time." Just then, the sound of the alert became a constant staccato blaring, and slowly, Boomer saw the compartment door start to automatically slide shut. "Boomer," Alpha said. "What does that mean?" "Means they're expecting a major attack force! They'll need me!" he blurted as he dashed toward the door and tried to reach it before it closed. The other people in the room trailed him with great concern. Too late, the door closed just an instant before Boomer's outstretched hand could stop it. The dark-skinned warrior sucked in his breath and turned around to face the crowd that had gathered behind him. "Okay everybody," he said calmly and motioned his hands downward, "Just go back to what you were doing. The party's not over until this attack is." Slowly, he made his way back to the other end of the room where Athena and Boxey had remained. "Why did they close the doors?" the little boy asked without too much concern. "That's precisely what I'd like to know, Athena," Alpha said with a hard edge in her voice. His aunt placed a protective hand on Boxey's shoulder and glanced back and forth between him and Alpha, "Well, so that if one part of the Galactica gets hit, it won't affect the rest of the ship." "That prevents the oxygen from escaping if the hull is pierced," Boomer said and then uneasily looked about the room. "I have a feeling this isn't the first time something like this has happened to you guys," said Alpha. "Can this flying castle stand up to anything like that?" "I hope so," said Boomer. ***** Chapter Twenty-Three: Kamikaze attack! "Okay," Apollo sucked in his breath as he led Blue Squadron, "Contact will be right now." The massive number of Cylon fighters then appeared. They came in closely packed columns that stretched to more than six fighters wide in each row. Blue Squadron then went to maximum turbos to begin the counterattack. Immediately, Apollo opened fire and picked off the first three in the echelon. He tensed as he expected the blue streaks of return fire to come, and kept his hand on his control stick, preparing for the roll maneuver he'd have to go into once the Cylon ships opened fire. But nothing happened. Apollo frowned and lined up two more shots. With still no return fire, they both hit their targets with no difficulty. Behind him, Greenbean lined up behind a formation of three ships, and had them all destroyed in less than a five-micron span. He too, was greeted with no return fire. "This sure is easy," he spoke up. "A little too easy," Starbuck radioed back, "They're not fighting back. What the frack are they up to?" "I have no idea," Apollo was baffled, "They aren't even moving at their top speed. I guess we should take advantage of it though." ***** Aboard the lead Cylon fighter, there was no concern at all from the command pilot as virtually all of the ships to his left and right were destroyed with no return shots. "Follow the programmed coordinates," he said to the other two pilots, "Ignore the Colonial vipers." "By your command," the first one responded. It mattered not to the command pilot's robot mind that he had been programmed for a mission where he would deliberately destroy himself. To him, the overriding part of his programming, the destruction of humanity, was all that counted, and if he should destroy himself while doing so, that was of no consequence. Other Cylons would be ready to take his place long after he was gone. His craft, and another alongside it, plowed ahead and managed to get by the first line of viper defense. ***** "There's still too many of them," the female Colonial warrior named Brie looked at her screen and saw even more fighters emerge, "Where's that help?" "Right behind you," a familiar voice that she recognized as Jolly came through her helmet. "Glad you made it out of the Rejuvenation Center in time, Jolly," Starbuck replied, "Right now, take your pick. Base level one of the Academy simulator was more difficult than this." Jolly opened fire and like the others, was able to pick off three ships in less than five microns. ***** "Commander," Tigh came up to Adama, "All squadrons are engaged, but there's something weird going on out there. We're outnumbered, but blowing them out of the skies. They don't seem to be fighting back." The commander raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Cylon fighters are notorious for their bad marksmanship," he said, "But for them not to open fire at all doesn't make sense, unless..." he trailed off. "Unless what?" the executive officer asked, "Suicide runs?" "Yes, it could very well be. Omega!" he barked, "Bring all laser turrets to full power!" ***** Apollo and Starbuck had pursued the lead echelon of fighters, which now numbered four. Together, they took care of the second and fourth fighters from that group, but the first and third were able to roar past them and get by their line of fire. "Galactica, this is Blue Leader," Apollo radioed with more than a note of concern, "Two from the first wave have broken through." "Our laser turrets will take care of them," he heard his father's calm voice reply. But before Apollo decided to turn back and face the next wave, his nagging concern caused him to scan the two Cylon ships. The reading suddenly caused his blood to run cold. "Father, no wonder those ships act like they don't even see us---they don't want us! They're packed with solonite!" he blurted, "That's what they're up to! It's a suicide mission. They're trying to destroy the Galactica!" Apollo then hit his turbo and began a frantic effort to catch up with the two fighters before they reached the Galactica. In the distance, he could see them draw closer to the battlestar, and it seemed more than likely that he wasn't going to get them in time. ***** "Jolly? Greenbean?" Starbuck called, "Three got past me; they're on a direct heading toward the heart of the Fleet. You two are closest to them. Can you get them before they're on top of the us?" "Won't be easy," the fat sergeant muttered with concern. "I think they dumped most of their fuel when they realized they were on a one-way mission. It's making it hard to keep up with them!" "Jolly, my scanner shows them headed for the Agroship and the two agro support ships!" this from Greenbean, "I'm going to afterburners now and see if I can overtake them," he then paused and added, "Wouldn't want to see you left with nothing to eat." "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Greenbean!" Jolly snapped, "I'll follow you on afterburners myself." ***** Jolly was feeling an edge of frustration as he and Greenbean struggled to catch up to the three Cylon fighters that were now bearing down fast on the giant Agroship, which served as the chief source of the Fleet's food supply. The Agroship was flanked on either side by a support ship, which conducted special experimental harvesting operation and also stored excess seed and other essentials needed for growing crops in space. Come on, he thought as the fighters started to come back into his range. Not much longer! He saw the fighters on the flanks peel off, with each of them headed for one of the support ships. Jolly kept him aim concentrated on the lead one, which was still bearing down on the main Agroship, which from the sergeant's standpoint, was the more important one to deal with. "Jolly!" Greenbean was no longer in the mood for making morbid jokes, "They're firing on the support ships! No way can I get to the one on the starboard side in time!" "Just do what you can with the port one!" Jolly saw the lead one opening fire on the main Agroship. A blast went off from the mid-section and he knew right away the ship had suffered widespread damage. He knew now that he had at most just a few microns or else there would be no way of saving the Agroship from destruction. As Jolly finally saw the fighter come on his attack computer he was briefly blinded by a massive explosion to his right. He didn't need to hear Greenbean's report that the starboard support ship was now gone. The lead fighter got off one more shot on the Agroship before Jolly finally saw it blink on the center of his attack computer. He pressed the fire button rapidly and at last, the fighter was destroyed. "Jolly!" Greenbean shouted, "Get that one off the starboard flank before he can head back on the main ship!" Jolly looked to his left and saw that Greenbean still wasn't in close enough range to take care of the fighter that was now scoring hit after hit on the portside support ship. It was fast becoming clear to Jolly that this ship, like it's identical sister, was doomed. It was time to make a tactical decision. "Greenbean, hook up with me. We need to make sure that nothing else hits that big bird." Reluctantly, the blonde ensign disengaged from his pursuit of the fighter attacking the remaining supply ship and rendezvoused back with Jolly. Now that they were together, they assumed a protective screen above the Agroship and each one could now train their sights on the two remaining fighters from a more advantageous position. An instant after the last of the two fighters was finally destroyed, Jolly and Greenbean saw the remaining support ship finally give up its fight to live. Both of them knew this part of the battle was over, but that it had clearly come at a great cost. ***** Adama felt his body tense when he heard his son's last message. A normal suicide run was one thing, but a fighter packed with solonite carried implications that were far more ominous. "Positive shield, now," he still kept his voice under control. "Commander," Tigh's voice was subdued as he listened in on his headset for the full report on what had happened. "Incoming damage report, sir." "What happened?" Adama tensed up even more. The executive officer took a breath. "You aren't going to like it. As if things aren't bad enough already, our two agro support ships have been destroyed." The commander let out a disgusted groan, "And the main Agroship?" "It survived, but sustained heavy damage," Tigh listened in, "Captain Donaloeu is waiting for a full report from Chief Operations Officer, Jotridus. Probably won't have it for another centon or two." Adama made his way back to the navigation and board and shook his head in disgust. "If our ability to feed the people of this Fleet is suddenly put at risk, then our ability to travel through space suddenly becomes meaningless." "Adama--" Tigh started then stopped as he heard new information come over his headset. "Report coming in from Captain Donaloeu now. The airlock for Agro Dome #1 was lost. That's...the main dome for the Fleet's basic crops." "Well, that's repairable," Adama grunted, "Inform Captain Donaloeu that Master-Tech Shaddrack and his maintenance team will be over as soon as we can stand down from Red Alert." ***** The two Cylon fighters broke off from their single arc and assumed different headings. The first one went into a delicate banking maneuver and now aimed itself squarely at the Galactica's bridge. "One micron to impact coordinates," the first pilot intoned. The command pilot's robotic mind almost felt a sense of what the human mind would call a deep sense of satisfaction. ***** "Good Kobol, the bastard's going for the bridge!" the panic rose in Apollo's voice as both he and Sheba made one last attempt to take the first one out. The two of them both opened fire with all the rapidity they could muster. "Got him locked in my sight," Blue Leader clenched his teeth as the fighter began to flash on his target computer. The Cylon craft was almost on top of the bridge as Apollo hit the fire button as hard as he could. ***** The Cylon fighter was only twenty feet from crashing into the hull of the battlestar when Apollo's shot finally got the craft. In getting it, Apollo had prevented the fighter from using its lethal cargo of solonite to cause an unholy chain reaction that would have destroyed everyone and everything aboard the bridge. But because the Cylon fighter exploded so close to the ship, it still produced a powerful shock wave that slammed full force against the bridge. In an instant, the shield protecting the bridge crumbled, and the shockwave bounced through the entire area. All about, people were thrown from their positions, some sent crashing into the machinery, others hurled clear across the room like rag dolls. Towards the center, Tigh was tossed off the upper center of the bridge and hurled under the console on the next level. Amazingly, the only injury the executive officer sustained was a bruise to his right hand. Omega was thrown backward as sparks erupted from his console and the entire bridge system shorted out. Not far from where Tigh had been standing, Adama had grabbed on to the railing separating the upper level from the lower one and came through the first blast unhurt. But then came the secondary blast. It roared with an intensity greater than thunder. In an instant, portions of the ceiling bulkhead began to cave in. Before anyone had time to react, a large section of the bulkhead suddenly crashed down on to the center of the bridge. Right where Adama had tried to hastily shield himself. ***** Apollo saw the explosion just above the bridge, and could see the secondary explosions erupt as a result of the shock wave. Right away, he felt a sick sensation in his heart and knew the situation was very bad. "Galactica bridge, this is Apollo," he signaled with a great deal of tension, "Come in." There was no response. "Galactica bridge, this is Apollo," his voice rose in pitch, "Answer!" Still nothing. Frustrated, Apollo banged his hand against the console and looked about, "Sheba, where'd that other Cylon go?" "It took another track, there's no way we can get to it," a note of alarm had entered her voice, "Starbuck, can you get it before it reaches the Galactica?" "I've got it in pursuit," Starbuck replied. The sense of ease he'd felt earlier when the ships didn't fire back was gone now. Inside, he felt more tense than he'd ever felt in any previous combat engagement. He fired at the lumbering Cylon craft and---missed! The target remained in front of him, but it was hovering too high on his attack computer, making a clean shot impossible. Just ahead, loomed the imposing spectacle of the Galactica's port landing bay. Starbuck's heart was pounding so fast, he almost felt it would explode right through his uniform. "Boomer," he whispered under his breath, "Where are you when I need you?" He fired again, this time more in desperation. As he had already known it would, the shot missed. The Cylon fighter was still too high on the attack computer. "Galactica bridge," he radioed, "He's headed for the port landing bay. I can't get him in time." "Try anything, Starbuck!" Apollo shouted back, "Don't let him get there." "Nothing...I can do to stop him!" for the first time in his life, there was a sense of regret and defeat in Starbuck's voice. "Frack, flegercarb and shit!" The three pilots could only watch in mute horror as the Cylon fighter streaked toward the landing bay as if on an ordinary landing approach. ***** "Five microns to impact," the lead Cylon pilot intoned with that same sense of satisfaction that his counterpart in the first fighter had felt. The fighter entered the landing bay on a perfectly straight arc. And then, as soon as the craft was completely inside, the pilot's last act was to hit his thruster on an upward heading, straight into the landing bay's ceiling. The explosion from the fighter's impact with the landing bay was potent, in and of itself, but it was the type of impact that the Galactica had long been used to. For hundreds of yahrens, she had taken suicide hits to her landing bay, and had always been able to weather them with minimal short-term damage. But as the solonite tanks inside the fighter ruptured, they produced their deadly chain reaction, and set off a second explosion, the likes of which the great battlestar had not known in more than five hundred yahrens of service. An enormous fire erupted down the entire length of the landing bay and rapidly spread into zones that were ordinarily safe from conventional attack. The Main Energizer that supplied power for the entire ship was located two compartments in back of the landing bay. Though shielded from the roar of the fire, the shock wave shattered the room from beginning to end and reduced the shimmering piece of equipment to a smoldering ruin. The Boraton Mist Control Center, which served as the main base of operations and distribution for the Galactica's fire team, was also done in by the same explosion. The four firefighters stationed there to monitor all firefighting activity, as well as control pressure of the boraton to all the hoses throughout the ship, all died in a barrage of fire before having a chance to realize what had happened. To one side, the main wall of the fire was carried by another detonation, which sent the firestorm on two separate curves, widing through a series of vents and corridors deep into the battlestar's interior. Directly in the path of the explosive power, was the Rejuvenation Center. ***** Chapter Twenty-Four: Trapped! Alpha had been sitting at a small table in the now quiet Rejuvenation Center. Her arm rested on the slick tabletop, close to her untouched glass of ambrosa. Across from her, nervously drumming his stubby fingers on the table, sat Assault. "Blimey, what a welcome," he remarked. She noticed that Boomer, Athena and Boxey had remained seated at the back end of the game table, each of them feeling somewhat too apprehensive to resume playing. "It's called realilty," the young woman said, smiling faintly. "Might as well learn to deal with it right now." "I know," said the bearded man. "Trouble is, I really would hate to get killed on my first day of freedom." "Boomer told me," she said, "this battlestar is built to withstand a lot. They've been through plenty of attacks and survived every damn one." "So far." Assault glanced around the room. The former prisoners, side-by-side with the off-duty warriors, were seated at various gaming tables, hunched and silent for the most part. "Think of it this way," Alpha said. "You're still better off than you were on Destructon." "The difference is I didn't have any Cylons to worry about." "That didn't mean they couldn't have attacked at any time and wiped out everybody on the asteroid." "Fortunately, I lived most of my life in blissful ignorance of that possibility." Assault scratched his beard. "And you don't have Kraspo to annoy you anymore." "Funny about him," said Assault. "Deciding to stay on Destructon and throw his lot in with the others." "He's stubborn as Hades," she said. A trait like that ought to come in handy for a farmer." "I keep wondering if---" There was an enormous boom. They all felt the room shake and vibrate for several seconds when the diminishing shock wave of the bridge explosions came their way. ***** "That sounded pretty serious," a note of alarm entered Athena's voice, while her nephew somewhat impulsively threw his arms around her. "Yeah," Boomer felt only a raging tide of frustration at not being able to take part in the battle. And then, without warning, the power of the landing bay explosions hit them. The ones closer to the vents took the worst of the explosions. Some suffered instantaneous burns from the flash fire that momentarily belched through the openings. Others were tossed into the air and felt their bodies slammed against pieces of game equipment. Boomer grabbed both Athena and Boxey and instantly shielded them on the other side of the game table. Their bodies were pelted by a large amount of light debris before the explosion ended as abruptly as it had began. "You okay?" he quickly glanced down at the two of them. Athena dimly nodded. As Boomer scrambled to his feet, a thick acrid smoke filled the room. "I thought we were too far inside for a laser hit," Athena was in a state of near-shock. "We are," the warrior gave his first quick look around, "That was something else." And then, one final small explosion came from the back end of the Rejuvenation Center. "Frack Almighty!" Boomer stumbled forward as he tried to begin a hasty evaluation of the situation. ***** From outside, Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba had the best view of what the lone hit had done to the great battlestar. The first explosion in the landing bay had been bad enough to watch, but nothing had prepared them for the horrible sight of the second massive explosion caused by the solonite-laden assassin. "Oh my God! What have those monsters done?" Starbuck whispered in horror at the sight. He hadn't seen a battlestar look so bad since he'd witnessed the destruction of the Atlantia during the Holocaust. An anguished Apollo again hit his radio, "Apollo calling Commander Adama, come in!" There was still no response. "Come in!" he was almost pleading. "Hey Apollo," Jolly's voice cut in, "The three of you get back here and help us. We've still got about three dozen more Cylon fighters headed this way." Apollo barely comprehended him, "I've got to find out what's happened there. Galactica bridge, this is Apollo!" "Apollo, Jolly's right," Starbuck retorted, "There isn't time to find out. We've got to make sure no more of those incoming Cylons get through. One more hit, and the Galactica's gone forever." When there was no response, an exasperated Starbuck finally signaled the third viper in the area, "You coming with me, Sheba?" She could barely take her eyes off the horrible sight of the Galactica, but she immediately nodded, "You bet, Starbuck." They went to their turbos and pulled away from the burning battlestar. A moment later, a reluctant Apollo hit his turbo and went back to join the main battle. ***** Chapter Twenty-Five: To save a battlestar The bridge was a disaster area, with two more consoles erupting in a shower of sparks. It took a while before anyone who'd been relatively unhurt by the explosions felt safe enough to move about. Those who did not sustain any physical injury at all wandered around the bridge in shock. Tigh pushed aside some debris and made his way back to the center of the bridge. He froze in horror when he saw the prone form of Adama, unmoving on the floor, a column of debris lying on top of him. With anguish, he reached the commander and opened his eyes. They were clearly dilated. The executive officer looked up and saw that a concerned Omega had also arrived on the upper level and was also bent over Adama's unconscious form. "Get Dr. Salik up here, fast!" Tigh ordered. The bridge officer nodded and quickly moved away. "The Lords help us," he whispered as he took Adama's weak pulse, "The Lords help us all." He then let go of Adama's hand and tried to shake himself out of his stunned stupor. The responsibilities now rested with him. He was now Acting Commander, and he had to start performing forcefully right now. "I want a team over here right now to cut away this bulkhead!" he barked at several other technicians who'd gotten to their feet. "It'll take some time to locate the right tools, Colonel," one of them gently protested. "I don't care, just do it!" he raised his voice to a shout. Tigh then felt his body deflate considerably. Raising a ruckus didn't make him feel any easier or more secure. Calmly, he went back to where Adama lay and again felt his weak pulse. Determined not to leave his commander's side for the moment. ***** By the time the vipers of Starbuck, Sheba and Apollo had rejoined the main battle group, they saw that the columns of Cylon fighters were rapidly dwindling. "Probably about two dozen of 'em left," Apollo struggled to get some of his warrior's professionalism back, "Don't let a single one survive." "There still hasn't been one that's returned fire," Greenbean could scarcely believe it, "It looks as though all of them are packed with solonite." "And more than a hundred all told," Sheba said. "Gotta be Baltar. He's the only one I know who's mean enough to come up with something like that," there was a distinctly bitter edge in Starbuck's voice as he took aim and got two more fighters. As the number of fighters became fewer and fewer, it suddenly became more difficult to lock on to the remaining ones. "Eight more left," Jolly reported, "Shouldn't be much longer." Yeah, but now they're not packed together anymore. This is where it got tricky with the other two," Sheba responded to her fellow warrior. "All squadrons pull back," Apollo barked, "Make sure there's a wall between here and the Galactica that those remaining fighters couldn't possibly get past." ***** Tigh found himself unable to leave Adama's side as some semblance of order tried to return to the shattered bridge. He'd always regarded Adama as a great tower of strength, and found it impossible to reconcile that image with the man who lay sprawled across the floor. Suddenly, he noticed Adama stir, ever so slightly. "Adama?" he leaned forward. The commander's eyes opened only a crack, "Tigh," his voice was a thick and nearly inaudible whisper. "I'm here Adama," his long-time friend tried to sound reassuring. "Casualties?" the commander barely croaked the word out. The executive officer shook his head, "I don't know." "How--bad--so--far?" the next words came out with even more difficulty. "Very," Tigh let out a deflated sigh, "Apollo was right. Those Cylon fighters were packed with solonite." "New...low...even for...them." "We put out all the fires here on the bridge with boraton mist," Tigh said, "But as for the rest of the ship, I just can't tell yet." "Colonel Tigh!" Omega blurted from the other side of the bridge, "Deep scan has been knocked out. Internal communications too." Tigh lowered his head and softly repeated the news for Adama, "We've lost deep scan." Omega made his way around the center to where Tigh was, "We've set-up an emergency radio system. Right now, we can talk to our pilots, but that's it." "How many enemy ships are left out there?" "Less than ten, according to Apollo. Right now, he thinks his squadron can keep them from getting through." "He'd better be right," the executive officer grunted. He then took a breath and slowly raised his voice to a level of authority, "See what you can do about internal communications. And get those scanners operational as soon as possible." "I don't think you heard me, Colonel," Omega protested, "The scanners are gone, completely destroyed." "Let...Vipers...be our eyes," Adama managed to speak. Tigh nodded. He was letting himself be rattled more than he could allow, since he knew he should have thought of that first. "Inform the pilots," he said to Omega, "As soon as they finish off the rest of those Cylons, keep at least two squadrons flying." "Yes sir," the bridge officer nodded and left. Tigh looked down at Adama's limp form and thought for a moment of the cruel ironies. All his life, he'd dreamed of having his own chance at commanding a battlestar, and for the first time, the opportunity was being presented to him, but under a distasteful circumstance. He was forced to take charge with the Galactica battered as she'd never been battered before, and on the verge of self-destructing altogether. If by some miracle he came through this, he vowed that he'd never daydream about command responsibilities again. ***** "Down to seven left," Jolly said as he took care of another Cylon fighter. "Correction, Jolly: five left," Starbuck chimed as two more fell victim to his lasers. "Make sure there's at least one other viper with you," Apollo spoke up, "Single ship-to-ship combat won't be enough of a guarantee." Starbuck seemed to notice a double-edge to his friend's words, and speculated that the last remark was directed squarely at him. He decided to hold his tongue as he and Greenbean linked up and chased down two more of the remaining ships. One-by-one, with almost agonizing slowness, the remaining fighters were blasted away. All except one final fighter. "It's in your sector, Jolly," Apollo barked, "Get it." "Affirmative," the fat warrior hit his turbo and sized the target up. But then, before he could thumb the fire button, the enemy fighter suddenly went into an abrupt banking maneuver and veered itself directly at Jolly's viper. The collision warning sounded in Jolly's cockpit and he had no choice but to hit his own turbo and go into an evasive roll. The Cylon fighter safely flew past. "Frack, he pulled some fancy maneuver on me, he's gotten through!" Jolly shouted. "Somebody pick it up!" Apollo also shouted, with just a note of terror entering his voice. "I'm on him," Sheba could barely keep the terror she felt herself submerged as she hit her turbo. The fighter came within her field of vision, streaking toward the Galactica. "He's going for the starboard landing bay," she clenched her teeth. "This is it, Sheba," Apollo's voice was at its most grave, "If he gets through, the Galactica's done for." "Will you shut the frack up and let me concentrate?" she angrily shouted back. Apollo was taken aback by her insubordination, but dutifully fell silent. A hush came over the other pilots as they watched Sheba's viper pursue the last Cylon fighter. Closer, they drew toward the undamaged starboard landing bay. ***** "Forty microns to impact," the lead Cylon pilot intoned. And once again, a sense of programmed satisfaction that his mission was going to be accomplished began to take hold. ***** Sheba's eyes were locked on to her attack computer. As had been the case with Starbuck's pursuit of the other fighter, the Cylon craft hovered just a little too high. "Come on," she whispered, "Come on." As the landing bay loomed closer, she decided that it had come down to one last tactic. Adjust her nose a fraction of a degree up. It had to be an infinitesimal adjustment, because overcompensating too much would put the fighter too low for her line of fire. She applied her finger to the control stick with all the delicateness of a surgeon performing an operation. After what seemed like an eternity, the image of the Cylon fighter on her attack computer dropped down ever so slightly. And then, the image blinked, indicating that the target was locked. ***** "Thirty microns to impact," the lead pilot again intoned. In front of him, the first Cylon pilot placed his robotic hand on the control stick, preparing for the micron when he'd take the craft on its abrupt upward trajectory once it was inside the landing bay. ***** In an instant, Sheba pressed the fire button and held her breath. Twenty five microns short of the landing bay, the laser shots blasted the Cylon fighter to infinity. The shock wave of the explosion dissipated harmlessly, and caused no further damage to the battlestar. As Sheba slowly exhaled, her helmet was filled with the sound of all the other pilots exhaling as well. "Way to go Sheba!" Greenbean said with more than a hint of pride. "Thanks," she tried not to sound drained. Starbuck still couldn't take his eye off the burning landing bay. In the face of Sheba's last-second success at destroying the third fighter, he couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't taken all the risks he could have to prevent the other fighter from escaping his pursuit. He thought back to that time when he had been captured by Baltar and brought aboard the traitor's basestar as a prisoner. The first words he had spoken to Baltar had been filled with anger. A desire to give his life for just one shot at the traitor. As he saw the eerie orange glow of fire in the landing bay strengthen, that desire raged through him again. "Okay," Apollo took charge again, "That takes care of the Cylons. But we're not out of the woods yet. Blue and Red Squadrons, prepare to land in the starboard bay. All other squadrons stay on watch in case more of them come back." As Apollo drew his ship toward the burning battlestar, he could only wonder what kind of horrors had already taken place, and whether or not the damage that had already been inflicted on the ship would finish the job for the Cylons. ***** Chapter Twenty-Six: Serious Damage Control The man in charge of the Galactica's fire and damage-control team was a middle-aged, gray-haired man named Bennann. A seasoned expert with over thirty yahrens of service aboard several different battlestars, it was his job to be ready with a team of firefighters after every combat engagement, and do all he could to get the Galactica back to working condition as rapidly as possible. Bennann had seen a lot in his thirty yahrens, but as he got his team in place two compartments from the port landing bay, nothing prepared him for the intensity of the conflagration that now thundered throughout the corridor. He had already discovered to his horror that the worst possible contingency for his men had come into play. The Boraton Mist Control Center, located in one of the adjacent compartments to the port landing bay had been totally destroyed by the blast, and with it, his Chief Deputy Firefighter and three others who'd been stationed there. And he knew that if he had not left the center to check on the damage from the hit to the bridge, he would have been killed too. With his main base for firefighting activities rendered inoperable, he was now dependant on less reliable secondary storage units from elsewhere in the compartment. "Push the boraton pressure to the max!" he shouted at Hardall, the firefighter at the pump station controlling the hoses. Hardall shook his head, "Sorry sir, but with the Control Center destroyed, we're unable to get any more pressure than what we're getting now." One of the lead firefighters who'd been spraying his hose all over the forward end of the compartment to seemingly no avail, suddenly backed away. "I don't like the looks of this," he lifted his helmet and said to Bennann, "Right now, I don't think we have any hope of getting it under control." "We'll have to figure a way out," the Chief Firefighter retorted with no sympathy, "If we don't, this thing'll expand into the entire area and take out the rest of the energizers and all the solonite tanks. When that happens, we're all dead. So the sooner you stop complaining and get back to that hose, the better." With nothing else to say, the lead firefighter shrugged in dejection and went back to his hose. As Bennann continued to keep track of the too-slow progress, another firefighter came up to him and tugged his shoulder. "Sir," he said, "Colonel Tigh needs an update on the situation." "Tell him he'll get one in a few centons," Bennann said above the roar of the flames. "I'll try to get to the bridge a little later." He looked back at the forward end and suddenly heard one of the lead firefighter shout, "Watch it, get down!" Bennann and the rest of the firefighers instinctively ducked and a brief sheet of flame passed over their heads. As the Chief Firefighter cautiously got back to his feet, he idly wondered if the ship would already be gone before he could keep his appointment. ***** In the Rejuvenation Center, Alpha said in a commanding voice, "Let's everybody calm down." "We're all going to die," wailed someone in the smoky room. "You will if you don't shut up," she warned him. "I'll see to it myself. Where's Lieutenant Boomer?" ***** A light cloud of noxious smoke continued to fill the room as Boomer worked his way to the main entrance. Around him, some of the more seriously injured were moaning in pain. He picked up the telecom that tied-in to the internal communications network throughout the ship. He heard only silence. He punched some of the buttons on the wall unit, but there was still nothing. The continued silence meant that the unit was damaged beyond all repair. At the other end of the room, Athena helped attend to an injured Destructon prisoner who'd been hit by a flying piece of debris. Blood trickled from a wound above his eye. Instantly, Boxey volunteered to help and applied a small strip of cloth that he'd torn from the game table, to the wound. "Hold it tighter, until the bleeding stops," his aunt gently motioned. Athena then got to her feet and took a look around the room. Except for the game table at her end, which had been more solidly constructed than any other in the room, all the other tables had been upended and tossed about. There wasn't much about the room recognizable from the cheerful center of recreation and entertainment It had been only moments before. ***** "Forger?" Alpha asked. "Were in Hades are you?" "Haven't seen the bloke," volunteered Adultress. "He was here," said Alpha with certainty. "Forger! Get your ancient astrum in gear!" "Have you no respect for the dying, child?" croaked a feeble voice. Alpha pointed. "There he is, ducked under that table. Assault, drag him over here." "Air," gasped the little man. "Smoke. Choking me. I'm expiring for lack of air." "Relax and you'll use up less of what we've got left," she advised as Assault escorted him to her. "Just let me make my peace with the Lords of Kobol and pass away quietly." ***** Outside the Rejuvenation Center, the fire had already quickly spread throughout the corridor. The walls on almost all sides were smothered in flames. At the far end, where the flames were not as thick, one of the other compartment doors slowly opened and seven warriors who'd taken refuge in a storage area for spare uniforms when the attack had began stumbling out. Six of them immediately headed for the turbo-lift ten feet away that would get them off the fire deck, but the seventh, an imposing, muscular member of the Colonial Security unit named Sergeant Kulanda, who had earlier left the Rejuvenation Center after losing two games to Boxey, frantically motioned them to stop. "There are people trapped in the Rejuvenation Center!" he shouted, "We've got to get that door open there, and let them out before it's too late!" "Kulanda, have you lost your fracking mind?" Sergeant Breel, another member of the Security unit shouted back, "There isn't time for that. We've got to get off this deck!" "Don't you understand, I'd just come out of there!" Kulanda retorted, "Boomer's in there, and so are the Commander's daughter and grandson! To say nothing of the Destructon people!" "You can't make it!" "I'm gonna try! Hold the lift as long as you can!" Breel watched in horror as Kulanda stumbled down the smoke and flame filled corridor. The other warriors frantically tugged at him and motioned him to shut the lift doors, but he turned around and barked, "I'm giving him twenty microns to wise up, turn around and come back!" Sure enough, twenty microns later, Kulanda was stumbling back toward the lift. His uniform was blackened in several spots, and scorch and burn marks lined his face. "It's no use," he said in dejection, "I can't get to them." Breel dragged his fellow guard in and closed the turbo-lift doors shut. ***** "Galactica bridge this is Blue Leader," Apollo's voice was more subdued than it had been for a while, "Port landing bay is destroyed. Blue and Red Squadrons will land in the starboard bay. The other squadrons will stay out and keep watch." "Affirmative, Apollo," Tigh said, "We'll keep two squadrons out on a rotating basis. You're cleared to land." "Colonel," Apollo hesitated slightly before asking his next question, "What can you tell me about my father?" The executive officer was stoic, "Dr. Salik took him to the Life Station a few centons ago. You'll get better information from him." Apollo skipped a beat before continuing, "How's the situation inside?" "It's still too vague," he said, "I should get a full report from Bennann in a little bit. But it doesn't look good, Apollo." "I figured as much. As soon as I'm aboard, I'll do what I can to help." "We'll need it," there was no flippancy in Tigh's voice as he shut his headset off. Just then, Omega came up to the executive officer carrying a hastily drawn-up clipboard. "Colonel," he said, "Here's the report from Bennann. Main Energizer number one destroyed. Number two now operating at maximum capacity. Boraton Mist Control Center destroyed." Tigh noticeably winced, "You mean they have to use nothing but the secondary units to tap into the main boraton storage tanks?" "I'm afraid so," Omega nodded and continued, "The fire's out of control in Alpha Deck, Beta and Gamma sections. All personnel have been evacuated from the fire areas, except for those in the Rejuvenation Center. It's been cut-off." "How many in there?" Tigh asked. "About twenty," Omega's expression became more grave before he went on, "Some of our new arrivals along with Boomer, Athena, and the commander's grandson." The executive officer was clearly stunned by this news. For a moment, he was unable to say anything in response. "Okay Omega," he finally said, "Keep me posted." As Tigh made his way over to another console and saw the indication that Apollo's viper was aboard, the thought of having to talk to him again suddenly made him feel very sick. ***** After giving up on the telecom for the last time, Boomer slowly made his way back to the other end of the room where Athena and Boxey were still comforting the prisoner with the wounded eye. "What did they say, Boomer?" Alpha asked. "What in bloomin' Hades happened?" "'Fraid we're not gonna find out for a long time, lady," Boomer shook his head, "Telecom's dead and gone." "And that's not all," Athena said grimly, "The first aid supplies have been destroyed too." "Great," Boomer rolled his eyes, "What else could possibly happen?" Just then, the sound of Muffit barking caught everybody's attention. "Good Kobol," Assault cried, "something like that, maybe?" The daggit was in front of the main door, and an even thicker smoke was starting to creep underneath into the room. "I had to ask," Boomer shook his head in disbelief, "Athena, break out the life masks." She shook her head and flipped him a battered and totally useless mask, "I checked them too. They were also destroyed with the first aid supplies." Boomer fingered it for a brief instant and then tossed it aside in disgust. "Felgercarb," he whispered, "There's got to be something we can do." But at the moment, no ideas were coming to him. He cast another glance at the door. The smoke coming in was getting more and more thick, and he knew that he had very little time to think of something. ***** "Look out!" Bennann shouted again over the roar of the flames, "It's going to flare again. Get down!" Once again, Bennann, Hardall and the two firefighters up front, were forced to duck in order to escape being consumed by another belch of flame. Hardall, the firefighter at the pump station shook his head, "There might as well be a fracking timetable for those flare-ups. We're not making any headway at all." "You're right," the Chief Firefighter conceded, "Get another unit ready to fall back on the next station. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep manning this one." Bennann took another look at the blaze. For a brief instant, his mind went back thirty yahrens to his days at the Colonial Academy when he'd first learned his trade, and how his aged instructor had kept him up for nights on end with intricate descriptions of how a fire could break out aboard a warship. Nothing that wise old instructor had taught him was of any use to the situation that now confronted him. The paradox of it all made him feel like laughing. "I've got to send Tigh another report," he said, "I'll be back here as soon as I can." "The fire may beat you to it," Stone said. As he walked away, Jorda finally let out that mirthless chuckle he'd been suppressing. ***** Cautiously, Boomer ran his hand over the main door. "Forget about going out through here," he said to Athena, "Even if the fire wasn't as bad as I know it is out there, the automatic lock's in place and there's no point trying to open it." "So what do we do?" she asked. Boomer drew himself up and spoke to the crowd of twenty, "Okay, listen up. Everyone over to the other side of the compartment. Move." Athena calmly took hold of another injured prisoner and guided him over to the other side. The other non-injured followed her lead and did the same. As soon as everyone had moved over, Boomer began a critical examination of the rear door that led to the Rejuvenation Center's main storage compartment. "Dammit to Hades!" he grunted, "The impact must have twisted the bulkhead just enough to jam the door." Athena uneasily looked behind her as the smoke continued to seep in, "What are the chances of the other door holding?" Boomer shook his head, "About as much as the Cylons throwing me a birthday party." "So what do we do then?" "You don't do anything, Athena," Alpha chimed in. "Huh?" Alpha turned to Forger. "How many drinks tonight?" Forger didn't meet her eyes. "Oh, a few, child." "Hands. Hold 'em out." Reluctantly, Forger obliged. His gnarled hands fluttered like insects in the wind. "Well, maybe a half dozen. Now I think of it. "You're still the best gadget man we've got," she said. "So we'll go with you, Forger." She jerked a thumb at the bulkhead. "This damn door is jammed." "So the brave lieutenant said, milady." "You're going to open it so we can get into the storage compartment and close it behind us." "Good idea," Boomer said. "There should be some more lifemasks in there." "Oh, that's a mighty tough task," protested Forger, shivering. "Especially for a man on the brink of death." "You'll go over the brink, with a push from me, if you don't quit stalling." She grabbed him by the neck, hustled him to the bulkhead. "Take a look, study it, and then figure out how it can be opened." "If it can," Athena said. "Any door can be opened, Miss Athena." Forger straightened up, rubbed his fingertips together. "All it takes is...um...time." ***** Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Family Medical Drama One-by-one, the vipers from Blue and Red Squadrons landed in the undamaged starboard landing bay. When they all emerged from their cockpits, few of them were in much of a mood for talking to each other. As Sheba slowly walked toward the turbo-lift, Starbuck caught up to her. "Sheba," he said, "I didn't get a chance to say it out there, but thanks again for saving our lives. That was one great piece of precision flying." "Just did what I had to do," she said. "Yeah," there was a slightly dejected note in Starbuck's voice, "If I had a little more of your discipline, maybe I would have gotten that other one." "It's not your fault," Sheba instantly sounded reassuring as they walked toward the turbo-lift, "Wouldn't Boomer normally have been flying alongside you?" "He was at the celebration, probably wound up stuck in the Officers Club or the Rejuvenation Center," Starbuck said, "But that's still no excuse for me." "Forget it," she said quickly, "The sooner we get focused on saving this ship, the better." The normally brash lieutenant allowed himself a smile, "You're right." As the turbo-lift doors opened, Starbuck smiled and patted her on the shoulder in a sign of fraternal respect for a fellow warrior. "Glad to have you on my team." ***** Apollo had gone straight to the Life Station after landing his viper. When he reached the center, he found a scene that could only be described as chaotic. There were well over two dozen people being treated for varying degrees of burns, while another group that had been injured by blast debris had been placed in life pods. He saw Cassiopeia treating one of the burn victims and went up to her. "Where is he?" he demanded in a low tone. The blonde med-tech uneasily pointed to the other end of the room, where Dr. Salik was hunched over another life pod. In it, Apollo could see his father, lying with several tubes attached to his body. He carefully made his way through all the din of activity over to Salik, who was talking reassuringly to Adama. "The...Galactica?" the commander's voice was still a thick, croaking whisper. "Took some casualties and some damage," the middle-aged doctor spoke casually, "But nothing that can't be repaired, including you. Now in the meantime, you get some rest." Salik then rose and promptly led Apollo away from Adama's life pod. "Tigh said you were coming, so I'll give it to you straight," the doctor's voice was less reassuring than it had been when he'd been speaking to Adama, "A piece of the ceiling bulkhead fell on top of him, and some shrapnel went right into his abdomen." "How is he now?" "The life pod has him stabilized, but he's very weak. As soon as this whole situation is over, I'm going to have to operate because there's a piece of shrapnel lodged between the right atrium of his heart and the right lung wall. It's very bad." "Then operate on him now," Apollo said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but Salik drew himself up to a posture of gentle reproachment. "Now you listen to me, son," the doctor's voice was low, but pointed, "There's no way I'm going to open up his or anyone else's chest under these conditions." "Why the frack not?" Apollo softly retorted. "The fire has already ruined one energizer," Salik held his ground, "And if the other one goes, as well it may, all of the equipment in the operating room will lose power." The commander's son lowered his head slightly as he realized the implications of what Salik was saying. "Would you want me poking around your father's heart with a knife-cutter at a time like that?" "Of course not," Apollo nodded, "You're right." "I promise you though, as soon as I get word that Energizer two is safe from any danger, I'll go in right away." "Can I at least talk to him?" there was an almost pleading edge to Apollo's question. "All right," Salik said, "But keep it short." The doctor moved off to another end of the room, while Apollo slowly made his way over to the life pod where the stricken Adama lay. Never before had he been forced to face up to his father's mortality. All his life, his father had seemed head and shoulders above any other man to him, a supherhuman,unshakable and indestructible. Since Adama had never suffered injuries as serious as this, Apollo's childhood had been spared all the traumas that other children of warriors had endured whenever their fathers or mothers were injured or killed in battle. With apprehension, he reached Adama's life pod and looked down at him. His father could only move his dilated eyes to indicate his awareness that his son was there. "Apollo," the voice was still that awful sounding rasp. "It's my fault your in here," his son whispered and choked back the emotion in his voice, "I tried to get him sooner, but he was too far ahead of us. If I'd scanned them all for solonite in their tanks when the battle started, I'm sure I could have gotten him sooner." "Not...your fault," a reassuring note came through Adama's raspy whisper, "You...all did your best. If anybody put me here...it's Baltar." "Can I do anything for you?" again, it was a struggle to get the words out. "You're...doing it right now," his father's eyes again glanced in his direction, "Just...by being here." Apollo wished he could reach inside and squeeze his hand, but knew he couldn't because of the pod's sterile chamber. Just then, Cassiopeia came up to him and also looked inside the pod. "I...want to see...Athena..and Boxey again...meet..Princess Alpha," Adama went on. "I'm sorry," Cassiopeia said gently to them both, "The doctor says no more visitors." "Okay," Apollo nodded, "I'll talk to you later, Father." The med-tech gently guided him away from the pod. "You know something," a mirthless smile briefly crossed Apollo's face, "I can remember growing up, how my mother always used to tell me every time he had to go off on a mission, that I had to be prepared for something like this to happen. But he always came back without any trouble, and I never had to give it a micron's thought. I guess, that's what makes the whole sight of him there so hard to take." "The Lords have always watched over him, Apollo," Cassiopeia spoke with a soothing aura, "They're not through with him yet." "Yeah," Apollo sighed and nodded, "I hope so." "I'll stay with him." "Okay," he drew himself up, "I'll be on the bridge." As Apollo neared the door that left the Life Station, he passed another warrior who had serious burns on his face and a singed uniform. "Captain," Sergeant Kulanda called over, "I'm sorry. I tried to get them out of there." Apollo came to a halt in the doorway and looked at him, "What are you talking about?" "In the Rejuvenation Center," Kulanda took a breath, "Your sister and son were still in there, along with Boomer. I tried to get down the corridor and force it open, but the whole area was cut-off by the fire. I'm sorry," he lowered his head, "I just couldn't get through it." Apollo looked as if he'd taken a hard kick in the crotch. To learn this information on top of everything else was almost too much to handle. He dashed out of the Life Station, and stopped in the corridor, closing his eyes in anguish and leaning his head back against the wall. The cruel irony of what he'd been thinking a moment earlier about how he'd suffered no childhood traumas over terrible things happening to his father suddenly seemed even more cruel. Now it seemed as though his entire adulthood was to be spent making up for all that. Zac. His mother. Serina. And now, the prospect of losing the only family he had left. He felt like screaming every single profane epithet he could think of. It took a long, moment of agonized contemplation before he could find the strength to resume walking to the bridge. ***** Chapter Twenty-Eight: Out Of The Rejuvenation Center, Into The Storage Compartment No sooner had Bennann returned from sending his latest update to Tigh that he found the situation in the compartment that had been uneasily status quo for too long now, was taking a serious turn for the worse. "We can't hold it here any more!" the lead fireman shouted as he struggled to keep aiming his hose at the demonic blaze. Bennann banged his thick-gloved hand against the hot wall of the corridor in aggravation. The amount of boraton they'd been pouring on the conflagration, theoretically should have put out a fire twice the size of the one they were confronting. But as this fire was proving, all the theories they'd operated under for yahrens were fast becoming irrelevant. Finally, he forced himself to put aside his professional pride and admit the obvious. "Hardall!" Bennann called over to the firefighter manning the pump, "Is that team at the other station in place?" "They're ready," Hardall replied. "All right then," he motioned to the lead firefighter. "Pull back slowly. We'll see what we can do from there. I'm going to have to get topside, and see if Tigh's got any new ideas on what we can do." ***** Tigh felt only a slight trace of relief that Apollo had already been told about the situation in the Rejuvenation Center, so at least he'd been spared the distasteful task of telling him about it. But as he was fast discovering, having to explain that there was not much that could be done about it, was no less distasteful either. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do?" Apollo asked for what seemed like the tenth time to the executive officer. "I'm sorry, Apollo, we couldn't get to them," he said, "Even if we'd been able to, it still wouldn't have been any good. All the doors surrounding the Rejuvenation Center are jammed." "But there must be a way to find out if they're still alive," Apollo protested. "We can't," Tigh said as he stepped out of the way of a crewman who was removing a portion of the collapsed ceiling bulkhead, "Internal communications have been restored on this side of the fire. Everything on the port side, is still out." The executive officer started to move away, but Apollo gently grabbed him by the shoulder. "Colonel," he said, "If they're alive, how long could they last?" Tigh sucked in his breath, "I don't know. The fire is rapidly consuming oxygen in that area. Once it's gone, they'll have to use their lifemasks. And those would theoretically give them an extra centar, if in fact they have them all. But as the way things stand, Apollo, the ship may have even less time than they do." Just then, they noticed the exhausted Bennann, his fire uniform covered with space-black scorch marks entering the bridge. "Come on, let's see how things are now," the executive officer said as he and Apollo made his way over to him. ***** Boomer reached back and caught hold of a chair. Sliding it over, he straddled it and continued watching Forger at work. Using the small tool kit he carried with him, the old man removed a metal panel from the door. The wires were now exposed, and he carefully calculated the intricate areas that connected them to the gear mechanism. There could be no room for error on this. He knew very well that one wrong application could short out the motor to the door's gear mechanism and leave it permanently frozen in the closed position. As he kept working, he refused to look behind at the thickening cloud of smoke coming under the door. The last thing he needed was any sense of panic to distract him. At the other side of the dim, smoky room, a middle aged woman began sobbing, short gasping sobs. "Time's running out...we'll all die. "That doesn't help," Boomer said in her direction. "Don't give up until..." "Boomer, she's right," Athena tapped him on the shoulder, "I think we've already lost some time." "Maybe," Boomer said. "Hopefully, no more than a few microns." "Might not sound like much to you," said Athena, "but, if you'll take a look in that direction, it seems to be enough to scare the poggies outta Boxey." Princess Alpha had been saying something to the now-frightened Boxey, trying to cheer him up and get him to quiet down. Then, with no trace at all of the time in between, she was on her knees in the Rejuvenation Center floor, choking, as if both her lungs were congested. "Boomer! Help!" cried out Boxey between coughs of his own. Boomer and Assault put their powerful arms around her, dragging her close the bulkhead where Forger continued to work feverishly. "C'mon, sweetheart," the black lieutenant urged, "don't give in." When she inhaled, her chest hurt. "Don't look so down, love," she told him. "I'm a long way from expiring." "Aha!" Forger muttered to himself. The old man sized up the wires and decided that everything was in place. He wiping the sweat from his wrinkled brow and turned to face the crowd. "We're all set, fellers," he said. "When this door opens, if it opens, we get Boxey and the injured in first and then the rest of you," called out Boomer. "But make it fast, because I don't know how long Forger can keep it open." "Boomer," Athena motioned her head toward the main door, "It's getting worse." The old man sucked in his breath and took hold of the wires, carefully joining them together. And then, a shower of sparks forced Forger to let go. "Damn!" he whispered. Forger secretly feared making a wrong move and shorting out the gear mechanism; for all he knew, he may have done exactly that. He tried applying them again, but as he feared, nothing happened. For a long second, he stood there, trying to think of what he could do. "Lords forgive me, I should've seen that before." He pulled out his screwdriver again, "I may have just used the wrong wave bond for that connection. If I change that," he made a small adjustment to the circuitry, "That should hopefully do it." "And if it doesn't?" Athena asked with a note of fear entering her voice. He looked her in the eye, "Then the bloody motor's already shorted out, and I'll never be able to open it." "Hurry," Alpha croaked in her smoke-filled voice as she turned away and looked back at the rising smoke cloud, "Hurry." Carefully, Forger once again brought the two main wires together. Another shower of sparks erupted. But this time, the crackling sound was followed by the reassuring whoosh of the compartment door sliding open. "All right he's got it open! Hurry up!" Boomer barked as the old prisoner continued holding the wires together. The others got to their feet and with some helping the wounded people, began to file in. "Move!" it was the loudest command he'd ever given. Athena quickly pushed Boxey and his robot pet through the doorway, Assault following them. Alpha still stayed by Boomer's side. "Let's go, Alpha!" he ordered her, "Get moving!" "What about Forger?" she asked with concern, "The door will shut as soon as he lets go of those wires, won't it?" "I'm old," Forger said. "I've lived out my life. Just get going!" Boomer reluctantly nodded and, his arm around Alpha, went through, leaving Forger alone in the room. Forger's aged hands almost slipped, causing the door to partially shut and go back open. He looked back and saw the cloud increasing. "Come on, Forger," Boomer motioned, "Get in, now." "I--I can't." Boomer sucked in his breath and sized up the opening. He had to time pulling the old prisoner in just right. If he wasn't quick enough, the door would close on both of them, leaving them trapped in the room. Slowly, he began a mental countdown from three. Just as he grabbed hold of Forger's arm, the main door suddenly exploded against the onslaught of the raging inferno outside. Incredibly enough, the force of the blast speeded their momentum forward, and they tumbled through to the floor of the storage compartment just as the door slammed shut. "Thank God," Athena let out a sigh of relief. "Twasn't necessary," Forger breathed, "But...thanks anyway, Boomer." Boomer slowly got to his feet, and felt something sticky in his hip pocket. "Well Boxey," he said sheepishly as he came over to the little boy and pulled the object out, "It looks like I, ah, mashed your mushy." "It's okay," Boxey managed to weakly smile as he impulsively threw his arms around Boomer in relief, "Dad said I'd had too much anyway." Boomer let out a chuckle as he tossed the ruined candy aside and reciprocated the light hug. At the other end of the compartment, Athena quickly checked one of the storage bins. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment when she saw what was inside. "Boomer," she called over to him. Boomer gave Boxey a pat on the head and made his way over to Athena. Her expression was grave. "The telecom's dead in this compartment too," she said, "And there are only five lifemasks." "Frack!" he gritted his teeth, "Okay we'll save them for later and take turns with them." Princess Alpha started to ask, "Have you..." She went away again. But this time she didn't come back. ***** "Maybe we should try the next compartment, now." Boomer nodded, "Good idea," he went over to the door on the other side and checked the circuits. Then, he carefully placed his hand on the door. "Ow!" Boomer felt a powerful heat that made him pull his hand away. "Are you okay?" Boxey came up and asked with concern. "Oh boy," Boomer looked about the cramped confines of the room as he massaged his hand to ease the pain, "Now I know what it's like to get stranded in the bottom of the Piscean Grand Canyon. The fire's hemmed us in on all sides." "We're trapped then," Athena bit her lip, looking at the comatose Alpha lying prone on the chamber floor. "There's got to be another way," he said defiantly, "There has to be." "Boomer?" Boxey's voice quivered slightly. He looked down at him and saw that the little boy was trembling. "Hey," he knelt beside him and squeezed his hand, "Don't worry, Boxey. It'll be okay." "Am I gonna see my Dad again? Is Alpha gonna be all right?" Boomer noticed a tear forming in his eye, and he gently wiped it away. "Course you will, Boxey," he said gently, "Right now, I'll bet you he's doing all that he can to make sure that he sees you again. And when we're outta here, Dr. Salik's gonna make Alpha all better." He then smiled reassuringly, "Now right now, you can make your father proud by going back there and helping those people like the good warrior you are. Okay?" Boxey dimly nodded and slowly made his way back to the other end of the room with Muffit trailing him. "Thanks," Athena said, "I should have done that myself, but I don't think I would have known what to say." Boomer said nothing as he slowly got back to his feet. She let out a sigh and leaned her head against the wall, "I'm just not cut-out to be his surrogate mother, Boomer. I just can't...relate to him the way a full-time parent should." "Nobody expects you to," Boomer said gently. "I know," Athena said, "But the way things stand, I don't have much of a choice. I don't think Apollo's ever going to let himself get sealed again." He raised an eyebrow, "You really think so?" "I know so," her tone was gently emphatic, "He literally worships Serina's memory. If you want my honest opinion, Boomer, I think he has some kind of secret death-wish." "What makes you think that?" "Boomer," she said, "Have you ever noticed that since Serina died, Apollo has volunteered for every single dangerous mission that a warrior could go on?" Boomer stopped to think for a moment. "Okay," he admitted, "But he's usually had me and Starbuck tagging along with him. I can assure you, I don't have any kind of death wish, and neither does Starbuck." "There's a difference," Athena said, "If you had a six yahren old son, who'd already lost a parent, wouldn't you be just a little more cautious about picking assignments that asked for a lot more than just flying your viper and destroying Cylon fighters?" Boomer slowly nodded, "I probably would." "And another thing," she added, "With you and Starbuck, it's more a case of 'follow-the-leader.' You both think of Apollo the way you'd think of your own kinsman, and its usually obvious that you're only following him because you want to be there in case something were to happen to him." "I admit that," Boomer said, "But I still don't think that means it's any different with Apollo." "Tell me something Boomer," Athena said, "Have you ever known Apollo to make any gruesome jokes during one of those missions?" "No," he sighed, "Starbuck and I are usually the bad comedians when it comes to that. It's the only way to cover-up how..." he trailed off and frowned as a thought suddenly popped in his head. "How scared to death you really feel?" Athena finished the sentence for him, "But not Apollo. With him, it's practically a fatalistic approach to the whole thing." "Yeah," Boomer absently rubbed his chin, "Now that I think about it, you may have something there." "I'm sure of it." "If you think so, then it's time for you and he to have a heart-to-heart chat." "It wouldn't make any difference," she sighed, "He'd never listen to me. He'd probably indignantly deny it, and say I was just being overprotective." "So who can talk to him?" Boomer asked, "Me? Starbuck? The Commander? Maybe Alpha, if she recovers." "No," she shook his head, "I don't think he'll realize it ever, unless another woman falls in love with him someday and forces him to confront it." Boomer was silent, as he began to idly look about the compartment again. At the other end, Boxey had resumed playing with Muffit and Assault was tending to Alpha. "For Boxey's sake, I hope Apollo finds that woman someday and listens to her," Athena went on, "Until then, I don't think that boy is going to have anything resembling stability." Something caught Boomer's attention in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw that it was the ventilation duct in the side of the wall. He then looked back at Boxey and Muffit and his eyes seemed to light up. "Boomer?" Athena frowned. "Athena," he said calmly, "I think there may be a way out of the Piscean Grand Canyon after all." ***** Chapter Twenty-Nine: Plans & Attempts "Okay, Bennann," Tigh said as he and Apollo came up to the Chief Firefighter, "Where do we stand now?" Bennann exhaled slightly and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, "Is there a computer running that can give me the blueprints for the ship?" "I think so," the executive officer nodded, "Over here." The three of them went over to the relatively undamaged side of the bridge that had gotten all of its consoles back to a semblance of order. Apollo sat down at the terminal and punched several buttons so that a detailed overview of the Galactica now appeared on the monitor. "Here's the situation," Bennann said as he moved his finger over the image, "From the port landing bay, and the section beyond, the fire divides, advancing here through Beta section, towards Energizer Two, and here through Gamma section." "Toward the solium storage tanks," Tigh was grim-faced. "There's no getting around it," Bennann was blunt, "If it reaches them, we go up like a supernova." "And pretty much the same thing if it gets to the Energizer first," the executive officer said. "The only difference would be the size of the explosion," the Chief Fireman nodded, "If it was just one or the other, I might still have enough men to barely contain the fire, even with the Boraton Mist Control Center gone. But because the fire's headed in both directions, I've had to divide up the teams equally, and they're just not enough. All they've been able to do is slow up the progress in both sections, but they can't hold them back indefinitely." "You can't transfer them all to one section at a time?" Tigh asked. "No, I cannot," Bennann said. "Because the section that isn't being treated would accelerate and we'd go up even sooner than predicted." Apollo's eyes suddenly lit up as he continued looking at the blueprints. "Colonel, come look at this," his voice took on a slightly exhilarated tone, "This duct system interconnects the Rejuvenation Center with some other areas of the ship, including right here on the bridge!" he rose from his seat and went back to where the bridge duct was locating. "Out of the question, Captain," Bennann said as he and Tigh came up to him. "These ducts are too small for a person to get through." The executive officer hunched over Apollo, eyeing the duct himself, "An adult, yes. But what about a small boy?" "No," Apollo shook his head as he continued to look inside the shaft, "Boomer's not so irresponsible that he'd take a chance like that with Boxey's life." He then looked back as another idea popped into his head, "On the other hand, he could send Muffy." Tigh slowly shook his head, "That's not an option either, I'm afraid." "Why isn't it?" Apollo demanded. "Here's why," Tigh motioned him back to the computer, while an increasingly impatient Bennann followed them both. The executive officer sat down and flicked several switches that brought up more detailed blueprints on the screen. "That duct system leads in eight or nine different directions, ending in more than thirty compartments, only one of which is here on the bridge," Tigh's voice was final, "The chances of a daggit, even one built by a genius like Wilker, coming out here are less than remote." Apollo held his ground. "Obvious solution: send men to the other compartments and have them wait until Muffy shows up." Bennann decided to stop being patient, "And where do you suggest these men come from, Captain?" he asked sharply, "In case you didn't hear a word I was saying a centon ago, I barely have enough men to slow-up the progress of both fires." "And I need every man on the bridge to try and get this ship back to some semblance of working order," Tigh added pointedly, "The Life Station is overloaded, the pilots must stay on alert in case the baseship that sent out those fighters decides to come our way, and you're telling me I should send thirty men to go wait for a daggit that might not even be trying to get to here?" He shook his head, "I'm sorry, Apollo. Even if I thought there was a chance, I still couldn't do it." Apollo knew that Tigh was right, but he was now desperate to keep-up his fight, "But they could still be alive, you can't just leave them there!" "Apollo," the executive officer put a hand on his shoulder, "If the fire reaches either Energizer Two or the solium tanks, the Galactica is doomed. All our resources must go to preventing that." "And as things stand, there's not a damn thing we can do to stop it," Bennann added, "The oxygen in each compartment is drawing the fire deeper and deeper into the ship like metal to a magnet. With these two curves they're wandering in, the only way we could stop it is by drenching the whole thing straight away with boraton." "Would such a thing be possible?" Tigh asked. "Yes, but right now, we can only tap into our boraton from these secondary pump stations that can't do the job, because they can only be used in limited areas. Now if we had enough high pressure, we could theoretically tap into enough to put it out in all areas but the landing bay. However, we still wouldn't be able to do anything in the landing bay itself because it's totally unapproachable to us." "If you were able to compensate for the high pressure and put it out everywhere but the landing bay, would that be enough to at least save the Galactica?" "No sir," Bennann shook his head, "It must be smothered in each and every area because one fire feeds the other. Leaving the landing bay unaffected would, in my opinion, be tantamount to just another stalling tactic." Apollo, who'd been listening intently to what the Chief Firefighter was saying, suddenly held up his hand. "Wait! I have an idea," he said, "We could replace the turbo-lasers in three or four of our vipers with mega-pressure pumps from the damaged energizer, fill them with boraton, and connect them to the firing mechanism." "Just like a strafing run," Tigh nodded with interest. "Exactly," the enthusiasm returned to Apollo's voice, "With four of us making continuous runs, we could inundate that bay with boraton." "Is there anything to what he says?" Tigh looked at the Chief Firefighter. "He may be on to something, I'll give him that." Bennann rubbed his chin. "I never thought one of the mega-pressure pumps to boost the pressure in the internal hose system that feeds to all of the pump stations. Yes, that would take care of the fire in the other zones, but..." he trailed off. "But what?" Apollo demanded. "Your plan hinges on using mega-pressure pumps from Energizer One, and right now, I'm not even sure they're still undamaged. The unit is in the compartment to one side of where our front-line has been set up, and we haven't confirmed whether it was just destroyed by the blast, or whether the fire's already taken that whole compartment out. If that's the case, then the mega-pressure pumps will have been ruined or unusable due to unsatisfactory condition." "Then get to that compartment and retrieve them on the double," Tigh said pointedly, "Those pumps are the only chance we have at surviving." "We'd only need five men to get in there to carry them out in one trip," Apollo said, "Can you get that area clear for just five centons, or even a little less than that?" Bennann sucked in his breath, "It would mean diverting one unit that's handling the fire arc headed for Energizer Two, but yes, I could temporarily get that one area clear. But you'd still need a small explosive charge to get the door open." "We'll get one," Apollo said, "Have a couple fire suits sent to the Officers Quarters, and we'll be down there in ten centons." "My men are capable of carrying out this task, Captain," the Chief Fireman responded firmly, "With all due respect, this falls under our training, not yours." "But they're not trained to set and place the charge, Bennann, I am," Apollo stood firm. "Captain, there are quite a few men on this ship from Maintenance with more training in setting explosive charges than you and the pilots are," Bennann wasn't giving an inch either. "And where do you suggest those men come from?" Apollo deftly threw back the Chief Firefighters earlier retort, "It'd take at least ten more centons that we don't have just trying to track them down." "Gentleman," Tigh coldly cut in, "That will be quite enough. Bennann, I'm sorry but I'm afraid I must agree with Apollo. As long as he's here and ready, you'll save a lot more time getting this whole thing in motion." The Chief Firefighter knew when it was time to quit arguing, "Okay, okay, come with me, Captain. We'll stop by Ordnance and get the charge, and one of my men will lend you his suit." ***** Starbuck and Sheba had decided to check the activity on the bridge when they ran into both Apollo and Jorda, who were leaving. "What's up, bud?" Starbuck asked his friend. "Follow us, and I'll fill you both in," Apollo said. A few centons later, as they stopped by the Ordnance section to pick-up the explosive charge that would be needed, Apollo had finished explaining the situation to them. Not just the plan at hand, but the situation in the Rejuvenation Center as well. "Apollo," Starbuck placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "You know how good a man Boomer is. If anything, you know he'll be doing all he can to keep Athena, Boxey and our new arrivals safe." "I know," Apollo simply nodded and then changed the tenor of his voice to one that was pure business, "The two of you report to the launch bay and get your vipers and Bojay's ready. As soon as we get the pumps retrieved, I'll join you and we can get started on the strafing runs." Sheba looked at him in bewilderment, "Are you up to getting the pumps and doing the strafing runs?" "As up as I'll ever be," Apollo looked her in the eye, as he opened the door to the Ordnance section and then turned back to the Chief Firefighter, "Bennann, go ahead and get that fire suit ready." He nodded, "I'll have a full team waiting in the compartment outside our front-line to help you. Firefighter Hardall will give you further instructions." Bennann disappeared down the corridor, while Apollo entered the Ordnance room. ***** As Apollo reached the compartment adjacent to where the fire-zone began, four other firefighters were already waiting for him. "Which one of you is Firefighter Hardall?" Apollo asked. "That's me," Hardall stepped forward, "And Firefighters Dion, Arones, and Fabamant. I know we'd all like to say how much of an honor it is to be working with a warrior like you, Captain, but the sooner we dispense with pleasantries, the better." Apollo nodded, "Where's my fire suit?" "Right here, captain," Hardall tossed the silver garment and hood at him, "It should provide enough protection if the room's already gone." Quickly, Apollo removed his flight jacket and slipped into the thick coverall, "We'll use the lowest level charge with a thirty micron delay on the door," he said as he tightened the straps, "As soon as it's clear, we go in and try to recover all five pumps." "We've got tools in case we need to cut them away from the main Energizer unit," Hardall said, "With any luck we won't be needing them. It'll be a lot better if we're still able to unhook them from their couplings." "What might happen if you have to cut them loose?" Apollo took the hood and prepared to put it on. "Anything," Hardall was blunt, "We could break the seals, we could puncture the skin on them by accident, we could end up touching a live wire that might be tangled up in them. I don't have to tell you how dangerous this is going to be Captain, especially since we'll be racing against time. The sooner we can get the auxiliary hoses we've brought in for this back to their normal station in Gamma Section, the better." "Once we get the pumps, are they that hard to carry?" the young voice of Firefighter Dion asked. "No, they're a bit bulky, but one man can carry them, Dion," Hardall answered, "If there is a danger, it could come from the extra boraton." Apollo frowned, "What do you mean?" "We're going to be saturating that zone with so much boraton that the floor is going to have some wretchedly wet and terrible traction. Our boots aren't designed for running in zones like that, so you'll have to take your steps very carefully. And keep in mind that when we exit the compartment and make our way back, there'll still be two boraton hoses spraying in our faces the whole time. Like I said, it's a race against time, but we can't do any actual racing on our feet." "I understand," Apollo slipped his hood on and adjusted the strap, "Okay, let's do it." Hardall cautiously opened the compartment door. As soon it was open a crack, Apollo instantly felt the rush of heat from the other side even under his insulated garment. Once the door was open, Apollo had his first look at the fire. Even in this section where it had not fully spread, it was worse than anything he'd ever seen in more than ten yahrens of service aboard the Galactica. Two additional teams of four firefighters had moved in on the scene with extra hoses, waiting for Hardall to give the signal to begin concentrating their aim on the area by the compartment door that led to the damaged Energizer. At the moment, the fire had lapped ahead at a relatively restrained pace. It was only a short distance further back from the compartment door though, that the intensity of the fire switched from a moderate level, to that of a massive wall of flame. As soon as Bennann saw the five men enter from the next compartment, he gestured his arm and gave the signal to start the additional hoses. Eight additional jets of boraton mist joined the four that had already been going. The level was so massive, that for a brief instant, Apollo couldn't even see the door just twenty maxims away. Bennann kept his arm in the air as an indicator for the hoses to keep going. It stayed that way for well over a centon. Finally, the Chief Firefighter lowered his arm and shouted, "Okay, auxiliary units only, cease!" The additional boraton jets stopped, and Apollo could see clearly again. For the first time, the fire around the area of the door was out. "All right, Captain, move!" Bennann shouted. Apollo took a breath and made his way through the two streaks of boraton still operating. He briefly forgot Hardall's warning and almost lost his traction on the wet floor, which nearly caused the charge to slip out of his hand. Quickly, he managed to regroup himself and took more careful steps before he finally reached the door. As Apollo placed it, he threw a momentary look down toward the next compartment, where the fire was seething more ferociously, and, little by little, creeping its way back toward him, now that the auxiliary units had been shut off. He tapped the button and started dashing back to where he'd come from. Once again, the traction caused him to stumble, but this time, Apollo prepared himself by going into a tumble motion. Across the wet surface, he managed to literally roll his way back to the feet of the two firefighters at the main hoses. "Everybody, drag back down the corridor!" he shouted as he hurriedly got to his feet. On cue, the firefighters all fell back an additional thirty maxims from the door so they'd be safe from the explosion. Apollo looked back and felt the stress and strain rising as the fire seemed to draw closer to the door. If it reached it before the charge went off, the combination could be lethal. He cast an impatient glance at his chronometer. Never before had thirty microns seemed to last so long. Finally, the puff of smoke erupted as the charge blew, and the compartment door came off its track. At the same time, the fire at the other end drew to within ten maxims of the now-open door. "Move back in," Bennann motioned to the lead firefighter who reassumed their original position. "Recovery team, get moving!" Apollo barked to Hardall, Dion and the other two firefighters. The five of them made their way carefully through the two jets of boraton, and entered the blasted opening. The instant they were in, Bennann motioned the auxiliary teams back in to keep the area contained. ***** "What are you thinking, Boomer?" Athena asked as he continued staring at the vent. "That duct system leads to the bridge," he said, "And at least thirty other compartments well outside the fire areas." "They're too small for us." "Yeah," Boomer nodded, "But not for a daggit." He went over to the other end of the room where Boxey was applying another bandage to one of the wounded. The robot daggit was right beside him. "Boxey," Boomer said gently, "You've been doing a great job helping these people. But I think right now, it's time we let Muffy try and do something that will help all of us." "He can do anything," the little boy looked up and smiled with pride, "What do you want him to do?" "You see that?" Boomer pointed to the duct, "If we let Muffy go crawling through to there, he'll reach one of the other areas where there'll be people who can send more lifemasks for us, and help get us out of here a lot sooner." "Will it be dangerous?" "Not for him, it won't be," Boomer said casually, "He's not a real daggit, after all." Boxey nodded, "If it means I can see my Dad and my grandfather again, then let him do it." And get help for Alpha in the process, I hope. Athena thought, looking over at the unconscious woman who didn't seem to be breathing. "Okay," Boomer said with a great deal of relief that he'd been able to convince him so easily, "Muffy come here." "Go on, Muffy," Boxey gave his pet a gentle nudge, "Do what Boomer says." The robot let out a bark and made its way over. Boomer carefully took it and gingerly placed it in the vent opening. With one hand still on the daggit, he placed a hurriedly scrawled letter inside one of its metallic collars. "All right then, Muffy," he gave it another push, "Go bring some help back to us. Make your owner proud of you." With another mechanical bark, Muffit moved slowly down the duct passageway. Boomer and Athena kept their eyes fixed on it until the daggit turned a corner and disappeared from view. "Okay," Boomer sighed and settled back against the wall, "Now comes the tough part. Waiting to see if he gets to someone." Athena nodded and then frowned as she took a cautious sniff of the air. "Boomer," she said, "It might be a good idea to start using the masks we already have." Boomer took a breath. There was a thinner quality to the air, and the rank stench that had filled the Rejuvenation Center was now evident inside the Storage Compartment. "I think you're right," he got to his feet and reached for the five lifemasks from the storage bin. ***** Apollo was the first one inside the Energizer Room. To his relief, he saw that it had only been hit by the shock wave of the explosion and that the fire had so far avoided the room. When Hardall entered, he took a look at the remains of the Energizer unit and let out a low whistle. The tall, sleek piece of equipment had literally been blasted into pieces. Scorch marks blackened what had been the top of the machinery. There was virtually nothing about it that was recognizable. "My, my, my," the firefighter said in disbelief, "What a fracking mess." Apollo looked about, trying to find the mega-pressure pumps that ordinarily connected to the main unit and fed into various locations in the wall, from which power was supplied to the ship. "No good, Captain," Hardall said matter-of-factly, "We'll have to clear some of this debris away. All right men, let's get to work!" he barked at Dion, Arones, and Fabamant. Together, the five men started pulling away the fallen debris surrounding the main unit. Apollo was gritting his teeth and grunting the loudest of them as he struggled with the debris. He finally had to stop and rest, even as the other four continued to lug the fallen fragments. "Not your usual line of work, is it, Captain?" Hardall said above the effort he was still putting into it. Apollo looked up at him from his sitting position on the floor where he was catching his breath, "Not by a daggit's tooth, Hardall." "Sir," Fabamant blurted, "I think I see them!" "Keep goin!" Hardall said as they continued pulling more debris away, "Keep going! Yeah! Paydirt!" Apollo got to his feet, "Do we have all five of them?" "Yep. All five," Fireman Arones said, "And, thank the Lords, they're all still attached to their main couplings." "Terrific," Hardall said, "Just unscrew them and they'll be ready to go. We just saved ourselves some more time." Apollo came back to them and went to work with the rest of them on detaching the bulky pumps from the devastated remains of the Energizer unit. Some of them had blackish marks on them. but it was clear that none of them had been punctured. As he finished unscrewing his pump, Hardall looked about and was still taken aback by the level of the damage throughout the room, "Tell me something, Captain. How come one of our vipers never gets to do this kind of thing to a basestar?" Apollo looked up and smiled wryly at Hardall as he finished unscrewing another. "I was thinking of damage, not destruction, Captain," Hardall returned it as he picked up one of the pumps, "Just once, I'd like to envision a squadron of Cylons trying to do this kind of work." "That'd be a fine-lookin' sight," Dion chimed in as he took another one. "All of 'em melting like ice cream in the sun before they could put the fire out." Just then, they heard a loud crash come from above their heads. The five of them looked up to the upper walkway of the Energizer room and saw that the compartment door on the walkway had blown open. Immediately, the fire lapped on to the walkway from the room beyond. "That's from the compartment next to the landing bay," Hardall gritted his teeth, "Looks as though we made it in here just in time. Another five centons, and these pumps would have been gone altogether." Arones and Fabamant then finished with the other pumps, and with that, Apollo and the four firemen made their way back toward the open door. Hardall stuck his head out first and gestured his arm as a signal to Bennann to have the auxiliary pumps quit. Immediately, the level of the boraton spray slackened to the level of just the two main hoses. The five men slowly made their way out into the corridor. Apollo briefly craned his neck backward. The huge curtain of fire at the other end was inching forward again, now that the intensity of the boraton had been lessened. Suddenly, in spite of his measured steps, Dion slipped on the wet floor and lost his footing. He crashed to the surface and the pump he was carrying, clattered off to one side. "Kill the rest of that boraton!" Apollo shouted, "Kill it now!" "She's about ready to flare again!" Bennann shouted back, "We can't afford to kill it or else it'll take all of you out!" Apollo looked back at the young firefighter on the floor who was clutching his leg in pain. With frustration, he trudged his way forward through the boraton spray and finally, after almost two centons, made it back to where Bennann and the others were stationed. Hardall, Fabamant and Arones followed. "I'm going back for him," Apollo said as he looked back at the writhing form of Dion. "No, let me handle it," Hardall pushed him aside, "This is part of our job, Captain, not yours. You get those pumps into the next compartment and get them to the launch bay." Before Apollo could protest, Hardall was struggling with the bad traction to make his way back to the injured Dion. Reluctantly, Apollo turned away from the scene and with several others, started clearing the four recovered pumps into the next compartment. Once they were safely in, Apollo came back out and saw that Hardall had reached Dion and was slowly carrying him back. The pump he'd dropped still lay on the floor. Bennann had been concentrating on the scene at the far end of the compartment, and without any warning shouted, "Get down, it's going to re-intensify!" And then, he, Apollo and the two firemen with the hoses ducked as a curtain of fire from the far end of the compartment belched forward and shot over their heads for a brief instant. When it was finally safe to get up, the Chief Firefighter's eyes widened in sick horror. "Oh frack," he whispered, "Frack, felgercarb and shit." Apollo looked and suddenly felt sick. Because of Dion's injured leg, Hardall had been unable to get down. The curtain of fire had crashed directly into both men with full force, and not even their insulated suits could do anything to protect them. "I'm sorry," Apollo said to him with stunned regret, as he tried to connect that terrible sight with the two men he had met only centons ago and had already come to admire and respect, "I'm so sorry." "Never mind," Bennann's voice suddenly became totally unemotional, "Never mind. All part of this whole rotten job. They're not the first ones to die today and they won't be the last." The Chief Firefighter turned around to face him, "You'll have to leave one of those pumps with me and make due with just three for the vipers." "Okay," Apollo nodded and struggled to get that terrible sight out of his mind, "Keep in contact with the bridge. They'll notify you when we make the strafing runs." "Captain," Bennann took his hand and shook it, "Good luck." Once Apollo was back in the next compartment and out of the fire-zone, the look on his face was all that Arones and Fabamant needed to know. Fabamant was stoic, and chose not to say anything about it, "Captain, I've notified Maintenance. Two men are on their way to help carry these down to the launch bay. We'd do it ourselves, but it's important for us to get back to our job." Apollo nodded as he started to take off his fire suit. As Arones and Fabamant went by him to go back to the fire, he patted them both on the back and shook their hands. "It's been an honor working with you," he said, "You're a fine group of men." "And you, Captain," Arones acknowledged with a slight bow, "The Lords be with you." When the compartment door had shut, leaving Apollo alone for the moment, he had to summon all his strength to keep from breaking down into tears. Never before, had he seen anyone die as horribly as he'd seen Hardall and Dion. Seeing a viper destroyed in combat, or a warrior being shot by a Cylon laser pistol had never conveyed the terror of sudden death as vividly as the scene he had just witnessed. And what made him all the more frightened inside, was that such a horrible scene could easily be repeated in the Rejuvenation Center if things didn't change soon. ***** Chapter Thirty: The Strafing Run As Starbuck slowly backed his viper into a position for refitting, a subdued Apollo entered the launch bay carrying one of the pumps, followed by two crewmen carrying the others. "Apollo," Starbuck looked down with concern from his cockpit, "What happened down there?" "I don't want to talk about it," he said in a low tone as he set down the pump he was carrying, "Jenny!" The ground-crew CWO came up to him. "Get these pumps put into my viper, Starbuck's and Sheba's. It's only going to be the three of us," he paused to catch his breath, "Is the boraton ready?" "All in place and ready to be pumped," she said. "Get on it now. Try to have us ready to go in five centons." "You got it," Jenny turned to the other members of her ground-crew, "Okay, people, let's get a move on! Load these things in fast." Immediately, the ground-crew members came over, picked up the pumps and carried them over to the respective vipers. Apollo took a breath, "Now, I'll be launching first and leading you and Sheba in," he then walked over to where his viper had been moved into position. Sheba and Starbuck nodded as they hitched up their helmet and took a step toward their vipers. ***** "Boraton flight standing by, Colonel," Omega reported. "Okay," Tigh said and adjusted his headset, "Bennann?" "I'm at the main station for the internal hose system, Colonel," the Chief Firefighter said, "We just finished attaching the mega-pressure pump. Once we turn the system on, then we'll be able to flood all the boraton we need from all of our pump stations throughout the fire zones." "Hold up and wait for my signal, Bennann," Tigh then switched frequencies. "Apollo, you may launch when ready." "We'll be away in a micron, Colonel," Apollo said as he closed his cockpit canopy. Starbuck looked over at Apollo's grim expression and decided to inject a note of reassurance, "Apollo," he said gently, "Don't worry about Boxey and Athena. They're going to be okay. So will the Destructon prisoners." Sheba impulsively decided to do the same, "They'll probably be waiting when we get back." "If this works," Apollo sighed. For a brief instant, a horrible image of what he had seen happen to Hardall and Dion also conceivably happening to Athena and Boxey went through his mind, and he quickly pushed it out as fast as it had entered, along with the continued anxiety he felt over his father's condition. "Remember, this boraton is heavy, so we're overloaded," his voice switched to a tone of authority, "When you pull up after your run, watch it, because the increased g-factor could slam you right against the hull." "No problem, pal," Starbuck flashed a characteristic smirk, "I have no intention of doing my best imitation of a Cylon fighter today." Seconds later, the three of them had hit their turbo buttons and were away. ***** In the Life Station, the scene was less chaotic than it had been in the immediate wake of the explosions. Most of the patients with minor burns had already been released, leaving only those in the life pods who still required major attention. Cassiopeia was finishing with the burned warrior who had told Apollo about Athena and Boxey. "I'm sorry," Kulanda muttered, "I shouldn't have been the one to tell him." "It's okay," Cassiopeia said gently as she applied a frost rejuvinator for the third time to the warrior's eye, "He had to know. I just hope the Commander didn't overhear it. "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I'd known he was in here, too," the warrior went on, "I was--" "The sooner you learn to forget it, the better," an almost parental note entered her voice, "You risked your life to try and get to them, and now it's up to the others to do something about it." "I hope they get to them," he said. "They will," she said, "Okay, Sergeant, you can go now." Kulanda warily got to his feet and left the room. Cassiopeia sighed and went back to the other end of the Life Station, where Salik was overlooking all of the life pods. Directly in his line of vision was Adama's. "Any change?" she asked. "For the worse," the middle-aged surgeon had his hand on his chin in deep contemplation, "I'm now being pushed into the kind of dilemma no doctor ever likes to get put in." "How?" she looked over at Adama with concern. "I said I wouldn't operate as long as the Energizer remains endangered," he said, "But that pod isn't keeping his life signs stable any longer. And so, I have a choice of two options, both of which can kill him. Leave him in the pod and let the metal near his heart do it, or operate now and run the risk of the equipment going out." Cassiopeia looked back at Salik, "Have you ever had that kind of dilemma before?" "Too often," Salik sighed, "Much too often. From the day I first opened a medical practice on Cancera, forty yahrens ago." The med-tech again looked inside Adama's pod. For now, the Commander appeared to be in a resting state. "Crowded conditions, equipment failures," Salik went on with a trace of grim irony, "These are the kinds of problems I had to cope with in those early days, when my practice was in a run-down building in the poorest region of Cancera, and I had to single-handedly provide care for over two hundred people. And then, I spent the next thirty yahrens, making myself into a successful surgeon who moved on to work in the finest medical facilities in all the Colonies, where problems like this were a dim and distant memory. In all the yahrens I worked at the Canceran Medical Institute, we never once had to worry about Energizers failing, and equipment going out, or too many patients to handle. We always had this smug assurance inside ourselves that we'd developed to a level of technological perfection and efficiency. That while there might be unknown diseases to give us trouble, as far as treatable medical emergencies went, there was nothing that couldn't be done without any complications." Cassiopeia slowly made her way over to where Salik stood. "And now, thanks to the Holocaust, I find myself working on the Galactica, and my career has come full circle. I'm right back to working in conditions and facing problems that I'd spent a whole lifetime trying to overcome and get myself out of. I've had to learn the hard way about all the wrong lessons of my career." The blonde med-tech gently put her hand on his shoulder in support. She'd never been able to tell the middle-aged doctor before how much she had come to love him as a mentor, teacher and father-figure. At a time when she'd been struggling to cope with the Holocaust and knew that her then-profession of socialator was one that she could not continue with, Salik had reached out to her and asked if she'd be interested in becoming a medical technician. Because of that act of compassion, Cassiopeia had been able to have a sense of purpose restored to her life, and a feeling that she was doing more to help people than in all the time she'd provided comfort as a socialator. Working with Salik up-close, and seeing how his compassion and dedication extended to all levels of his work, had also inspired Cassiopeia to consider moving on to even greater responsibilities within the medical profession. That Salik could in fact, train her to become a doctor as well, and that one day, she would be doing his work, too. "Whatever decision you have to make, I'm sure will be the right one," she said, "Your judgment had always been better than anyone else I know." The middle-aged surgeon said nothing, but his faint smile indicated his gratitude. "Dr. Salik," one of the other med-techs at the other end of the room called over to him, "I require your assisstance with this burn victim." Salik nodded and turned to Cassiopeia, "Monitor the Commander's pod readings, and let me know if they drop again. That might make the difference in my decision." ***** "Apollo," Tigh radioed, "The mega-pressure pump is in place on our end. You can commence the boraton run." Apollo took the lead position of the three vipers. "I'll make the first pass Starbuck, then you and Sheba. We'll have to make it good." "I'm right behind you," his friend said. And then, they hit their turbos and went into a roll pattern that would take them on a heading back to the burning battlestar. ***** "They're starting their run, Bennann," Tigh switched frequencies on his headset. "Okay, Colonel," the Chief Firefighter acknowledged and then made his way over to the giant console that controlled the ship's internal hose system. He gave a silent thanksgiving prayer to the Lords that the builders of the Galactica had been wise enough not to position it in the same location as the destroyed Boraton Mist Control Center. If that had happened, what they were now attempting would have been physically impossible. No, he corrected himself. It wouldn't have meant just that, it would have mean that they'd already be dead, since there would have then been no power for the hoses. "The vipers are beginning their run," he barked, "Start the mega-pressure pump!" Firefighter Doega activated a switch on the console that started the pump's power. Then, one at a time, he cranked the valves controlling each of the pump stations throughout the fire zones. The level of boraton pressure in each hose would now be increased to the levels they needed to get to. Bennann could instantly see the pressure pump's effect on the hoses just in front of him. Almost immediately, they had thickened and hardened to twice the size they'd been throughout the entire firefight. But now they were the size they should have been right from the outset. At long last, the level of boraton that they needed to contain and smother the fire would be flowing throughout the ship. The Chief Firefighter could feel the tension rising inside him as he banged his thick gloves together. ***** The creepy, orange radiance of the landing bay fire loomed larger in Apollo's field of vision as he brought his viper closer. There was a heavy feeling not just in his viper from the unwieldy load of boraton, but in the bottom of his stomach as well. Too much had happened to him this day. Far more than he felt his nerves could take. And yet, it was because of that, that he knew that whatever had to be done to save the Galactica was something he had to take part in. It was the only way to get all those sick and troubling thoughts out of his mind. "Here we go," Apollo took a breath as he hit his turbo and went into a strafing run. "Easy," Apollo muttered through the tension and discomfort he felt, as his nose came to within sixty feet of the burning landing bay entrance, "Easy." His attack computer had been reprogrammed to show the landing bay entrance as his target. When he saw it blink, he let out a shout at the top of his voice, "NOW!" Apollo hit his fire button. Instead of the normal red streaks of laser fire, a white cloud of boraton erupted from the front and streaked right through the burning entrance. As soon as it was away, Apollo pulled up. He then felt an intense pressure that he hadn't experienced since the worst days of Academy training, when a slightly sadistic instructor would increase the g-factor stress in the flyer simulator to extremely dangerous levels. Once he'd leveled off, he shook his dazed sensation off and looked back at the Galactica. The orange radiance of the landing bay fire dimmed slightly, went out for only a brief instant, but then quickly returned to its earlier intensity. The first shot, as he'd expected, was not enough to do the job. "Watch it Starbuck," he exhaled as he saw his friend's viper draw closer, "The g-factors are worse than I thought." "How worse?" "Just think of old Kreneon at the Academy." "Oh, that bad," Starbuck rolled his eyes briefly, "Thanks for the warning." The brash lieutenant hit his turbo and started his run. As he drew closer to the landing bay, the memory of the Cylon fighter eluding his pursuit toward this same spot filled Starbuck's mind. To his way of thinking, he had played it as carefully as he could then, and the end result was the conflagration that now loomed before him. As far as he was concerned now, Starbuck had no intention of playing this run carefully. It was time to make up for what he regarded as a costly, terrible mistake he had made. He adjusted his nose down a degree and increased his speed. Apollo's eyes widened in disbelief as he saw Starbuck's viper plunge slightly downward. "Starbuck, your angle's too steep," a note of alarm crept into his voice. "The way I see it Apollo, I've got to get even closer than you did, to do any good." "Don't take any unnecessary risks." "The last time I played it safe, the Cylon fighter got through!" for the first time, Starbuck let his emotions surface as he drew closer. "Pull up!" Apollo shouted, "Break off your run!" "No way!," Starbuck gritted his teeth as the target flashed. Just forty feet from the opening, he hit the fire button and then went into a far steeper climb than Apollo had been forced to go into. The stress was indeed, far worse than he'd remembered from the Academy training days. But thanks to that earlier experience when he'd been flying the C.O.R.A viper, and had instructed her to go into an even steeper dive and pull-up that had caused him to black out, his mind was more than prepared to handle this one. Once he was back to an even flying level, he let out a sigh of relief that the run was over. "I thought you weren't going to make it," Apollo radioed. "Yeah, well," Starbuck allowed himself a nervous chuckle, "I knew what I was doing. And what I had to do." He looked back at the landing bay. Again, the brilliance of the fire softened briefly and then went out for a brief instant. And like before, came back just as quickly. "Frack," he sighed. But there was none of the dejection he'd felt earlier. At least this time, he knew he'd given it his best possible shot. "Sheba, you're up," Apollo radioed the third viper in the group. "Starting my run, now," she said calmly, and without any trace of emotion. She'd been silent throughout the previous two runs and been focusing every part of her mind on the task that was at hand for her. "This one has to do it, Sheba," Apollo said pointedly. She took a deep breath. "Make it good, just like the last time," he added with a note of encouragement. "I will," she allowed herself to whisper as she drew closer. Closer and closer, her viper came toward the burning landing bay. She decided on an approach that would put her fifty feet from the entrance when she fired. Behind her, Apollo and Starbuck could only watch with a rising level of tension. The target computer blinked. She bit her lip and pressed the fire button. The white cloud of boraton hit its target on cue as she safely pulled up with no difficulty. Once she had leveled off, she craned her head to see the results of the last attempt. Again, the orange radiance dimmed briefly. Again, the radiance went out. But this time, it stayed out. The three viper pilots said nothing for a moment, each of them not wanting to react prematurely. They continued to wait with the nervous sensation that the glow would come back. But still, the only thing they could see in the landing bay was darkness. Finally, Starbuck felt safe enough to break the tension, "We got it," he said with careful exhilaration, "By all the Lords, we got it." "We got the landing bay," Apollo responded in a deliberate effort to keep the level of enthusiasm down, "It's up to Bennann and the guys inside to put the rest of the fire out. If the mega-pressure pump doesn't work there, this whole thing will have been for nothing." "What do we do in the meantime?" Sheba asked. "For now, we stay out here and wait for the final confirmation that the fire is out." ***** "It's working sir," a note of cautious optimism was in Firefighter Doega's voice, as the thicker hoses sprayed massive levels of boraton throughout the corridors of both fire zones. Bennann refused to be impressed, "We'll need at least five centons of this before we'll have the tide turned. I'm not letting out any cheers until this thing is out, completely." The Chief Firefighter adjusted his headset and spoke into it, "Beta Zone, report!" "Firefighter Mustaiapo, sir. Starting to contain it along the approach to Energizer Two." "Good, keep it up," he switched frequencies, "Gamma Zone, report!" "Firefighter Disaeutenys, sir. She's still hot along the walls near the solium tanks but the momentum's stopped. We should have it turned around in a few microns." "Good, keep it up," Bennann repeated and then changed to the bridge frequency, "Colonel, we're starting to turn it around down here. Another five centons, and we might be out of danger." "Excellent," like the Chief Firefighter, the Executive Officer was keeping all undue optimism out of his voice, "Your men are doing a great job, Bennann." For the first time, a note of pride entered Bennann's voice, "Yes, Colonel, they are. They're Galactica's best." ***** "Colonel, how's it coming in there?" Apollo radioed. "It's going to take a little more time, Apollo," Tigh replied. "About another five centons, and it might be over by then." "We'll wait here and keep our eye on the landing bay." "Do that." Apollo hesitated briefly before asking his next question, "Colonel, has there been any sign of Muffy?" "No, Apollo," Tigh said matter-of-factly, "I'm sorry to inform you; there's been no change there. But if the fire gets put out, I'll send a team down there right away to get them out. Trust me." ***** Slowly, Bennann began to feel a creeping tide of optimism enter him as the pressure pump continued to do its job. "Beta Zone?" he signaled. "Coming along even better sir," Mustaiapo answered, "We're moving in on the worst part of the fire, here. We get by this one area, and we'll have the whole zone contained." "Very good, Mustaiapo, you're all---" The Chief Firefighter stopped as he was suddenly distracted by a sound coming from the control console where the pump had been attached to. "Doega, what's happening?" he dashed up to the console. "I think something's wrong with the seal, sir," Doega said, "It could be that the pump was too weakened by the original explosion to handle this load." "It's got to take the strain!" Bennann raised his voice in alarm as all the optimism he'd been feeling rapidly receded, "Just three more centons!" But no sooner had the Chief Firefighter finished his impassioned plea, when the bolt connecting the pressure pump to the console suddenly exploded in a puff of smoke. In an instant, the massively thick fire hoses deflated into flat strips and their flow of boraton suddenly trickled to a stop. "No!" Bennann said through clenched teeth, "Damn it, no!" "Sir!" Mustaiapo 's voice shouted through his headset in terror, "Our boraton's gone out!" "The pump's blown out, Mustaiapo, we'll get the regular pumps back in a micron, hang on!" he gestured wildly at Doega who was frantically pulling the pump off. "Oh my God, it's flaring out again!" A hideous scream then filled Bennann's headset. Loud enough for even Doega to hear. There was nothing but stunned horror on both their faces for a long micron. Then, the Chief Firefighter let all the emotion he'd held back since he'd seen Hardell and Dion burned to death, finally explode. With uncontrollable rage, he grabbed the useless pump from Doega, hurled it to the floor and kicked it with all the fury he could summon. "Fracking piece of useless felgercarb!" he roared, and then turned back to Doega, "Get those regular pumps going, now! I want new teams in place in Beta section on the double!" the intensity of his voice did not let up. As Doega and two other firefighters frantically went to work on the console, Bennann hurriedly readjusted his headset, "Gamma Zone, report!" There was no response. " Disaeutenys?" Bennann was almost begging for his subordinate to respond. " Disaeutenys?" Still nothing. Bennann lowered his head. He was too spent to let out his feelings of rage and frustration again. "Put a new team in place in Gamma Zone," he returned to his usual posture of authority, "Stay with it as long as possible." "We've got the regular pumps reconnected," Doega said as he hastily cranked the valves on the console again. Slowly, the hoses that had gone limp inflated back to the low-pressure level they'd been at before. A level that they already knew was too ineffective to contain the fire. "Sir," another firefighter dashed up to Bennann, "It's gone out of control in both sections again. And we're now looking at a lateral wall of flame moving instead of a gradual pace forward." The Chief Firefighter rubbed the back of his neck, "Both sections are to take up front-line positions at the main doors to the Energizer room and the solium tanks. Work it out from there as best as they can." "Yes sir," the firefighter left. The Chief Firefighter warily readjusted his headset, "Colonel, I'm sorry. The pump's main seal blew out and the fire's out of control again. We're falling back with the regular pumps." It was a moment before Tigh was able to reply. "I see," the executive officer sighed, "Bennann, your men did the best possible job I've ever asked them to do. Keep me posted." "Yes sir." The Chief Firefighter then walked up to the ruined pump that he had kicked across the floor. For the first time since he'd been a child, he felt like crying. "Couldn't last another three fracking centons, could you?" he said under his breath. He then gave it another savage kick and went back to his job. ***** Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba remained in a holding pattern, keeping their eyes focused on the battlestar. Suddenly, after more than three centons of darkness, the orange radiance suddenly returned to the landing bay. "Frack," Starbuck's shoulders sagged, "We didn't get it." Apollo lowered his head and let out an agonized sigh. All that work. All that struggle to get to the pumps, which had killed two brave firefighters. All for nothing. And his family, as well as the Galactica, remained in serious danger. "Boraton flight," Tigh's voice sounded deflated, "I'm sorry. The pump was too strained from the explosion to handle the boraton pressure. You're cleared to land now." None of the pilots could say anything in response as they guided their ships into the starboard landing bay. ***** "Colonel," Omega came up to the executive officer, "We're getting some messages from the other ships in the Fleet." "Oh Lord!" Tigh shook his head, "We've been so concerned with trying to save the Galactica, we've all but forgotten the rest of the Fleet. What are they asking?" Omega uneasily hesitated, "Well sir, they, ah...they all say they need instructions on what they're supposed to do, in case..." the bridge officer was unable to finish. Tigh nodded in acknowledgment, "I understand. Omega, get me Admiral Zhark aboard the Celestra." "Yes sir," he turned and walked away. ***** "Beta Section team, are you in place?" Bennann had managed to get himself back to an unemotional tone. "Yes sir, Firefighter Ephas--oh God," his voice suddenly took on a disgusted edge. Bennann knew right away that they'd stumbled across the remains of the team they'd been sent in to replace. "Look, I'm afraid you can't concern yourself with that," he said, "What's the situation around the Energizer?" "Well sir," Ephas struggled to recover his tone, "we've only got it clear for about a hundred feet around. The chief problem now, is that the flare-ups are becoming more regular. And when they happen, they bounce right off the Energizer compartment door, and they're liable to start causing short-outs and power drops even before it reaches the compartment." "Okay, there's nothing you can do about the flare-ups when they happen, but keep it concentrated high and maybe they'll get a little less frequent." "There's another thing sir," Ephas added, "The ceiling and the corridor bulkheads are getting weakened by the flare-ups too. They could all cave in at any time now." "You just have to keep aiming it high," the Chief Firefighter didn't change the level of his voice, "Ephas, your group is the last line of defense in Beta Section. You're going to have to stay with it right to the end." "Yes sir, I understand, we---" "Ephas?" Bennann tensed, "You still there?" Suddenly, the lights above his head flickered and dimmed for a brief instant, and then came back on. "Ephas?" "Yes sir," the firefighter's voice was out-of-breath, "Sorry, there was another flare-up. Went right against the compartment door." "Yeah, we noticed," Bennann looked up at the overhead lights with concern, "Keep aiming your hoses high." As he switched the frequency off, the Chief Firefighter realized that time was beginning to slowly run out. ***** The lights had also dimmed in the Life Station, where Salik had been hunched over the life pod of another patient. The pulsating regular tone of the equipment that ran the chambers, abruptly slowed to an irritating and muffled sound. Concerned, Salik made his way back to the monitoring station where Cassiopeia was sitting, just as the lights returned to full intensity, and the pulse of the equipment resumed its normal tone. "Well?" the doctor asked. The med-tech nodded, "That power drop just made his life signs even worse." Salik looked at Adama's pod, "Damn!" he said with finality, "I don't have any choice. I'm afraid I'm going to have to operate now. More power-drops like that are just going to kill him anyway." "I think that's a good idea," Cassiopeia got to her feet. "Notify Tigh," he said, "I'll be in Hypersonic Scrub." ***** Boomer took as delicate a breath as he could from the lifemask that Assault had just passed over to him. The ugly, thick smoke cloud had begun to creep under the storage compartment door just as it had done in the Rejuvenation Center. Only this time, the twenty people could do nothing else but stare at the cloud's development. After two more breaths, Boomer handed it to Boxey. "Okay Boxey," he said in a low tone, "Your turn now." "Don't worry," the little boy was outwardly smiling, but Boomer could clearly see the fear in the child's eyes, "Muffit isn't going to let us down." "I know he won't, Boxey," Boomer ran his hand through the little boy's hair, "I know he won't." "Boomer," Athena ran her hand across her forehead, "I'm really starting to feel funny, just like Alpha must've before she keeled over." "Everybody, try not to talk," Boomer raised his voice for the first time in a while, "It's the only way we can stretch the current oxygen level in here." No sooner had he spoken, when another prisoner, this one a heavyset man at the back of the room suddenly collapsed to the floor in a faint. Boomer and Athena made their way back to him then dragged him over until he was lying next to Alpha. He quickly took the unconscious prisoner's pulse. "Very bad," he whispered as one of the other five masks was handed to him and he placed it over the unconscious man's face, "Very bad." "We all are," Athena whispered back, "Boomer, how much longer do you think we have?" "Probably less than twenty or thirty centons," he cast a glance back at the vent, "Damned daggit, why don't you show up?" ***** "I've got Admiral Zhark on Alpha Channel, sir," Omega said. "Thank you," Tigh flicked a switch. The face of Admiral Zhark, the retired supreme commander of the Colonial Fleet who had been pressed back into active service as commanding officer of the Fleet's largest maintenance ship, the Celestra, now filled the screen. "Colonel Tigh," he spoke in that stuffy, and characteristically unfriendly tone. Zhark was the polar opposite of Adama, notorious for sorely lacking the gentle, compassionate characteristics associated with the Galactica's commander. "Yes, Admiral," Tigh said, trying not to show any of the sense of discomfort that Zhark always managed to instill in him, "I don't think I need to tell you, how serious the situation is aboard the Galactica." "What can you tell me of Adama's condition?" he asked with a trace of concern. The Galactica commander had served under Zhark many yahrens ago as the admiral's adjutant. "It's serious, but that isn't important right now," Tigh said, "As Acting Fleet Commander, it's my responsibility to tell you, as the most experienced warrior in the Fleet, what steps you'll have to take in the event the Galactica is destroyed." The stern admiral nodded, "Go ahead." "Overall command will fall to you," Tigh's tone was firm, "Your first priority is to get underway at top speed and escape this quadrant of space. Dr. Wilker is presently aboard the Auxiliary Electronics Ship, and will be able to provide you with all data as to how maximum speed can be achieved for all the ships. At all possible costs, it is imperative that you keep the Fleet together, and maintain the same levels of food and fuel distribution. Fortunately, all fuel tankers are, at this time, loaded to maximum capacity so there will be no danger of any shortages erupting on that front." "That's all well and good," Zhark's voice remained gruff, "But how do I keep this Fleet together if I'm discovered by another Cylon task force and have absolutely nothing with which to fight back?" "I'm coming to that," it was a struggle for Tigh to hide the feelings of dislike Zhark evoked in him, "If it becomes clear that you're being stalked by a baseship, or any other type of Cylon force that can not be eluded, than the survival of human civilization dictates that you disperse the Fleet in as wide a column as possible. From there on in," he paused briefly, "Each ship will be on its own." There was no response from Kronus. "Are my instructions quite clear, Admiral Zhark?" Tigh took his tone to the highest level of firm authority that he was able to muster. "Quite clear," his face had still not changed expression, "I shall do so, if indeed the situation comes to that." "Thank you," he said, "This will be our last message until the present situation is ended." "Colonel," for the first time, the inflection in Zhark's voice changed slightly. "Yes, Admiral?" The usually stern and tight-fisted admiral let out a sigh that telegraphed the true emotions he was feeling, "The Lords Of Kobol watch over you, and be with you." Tigh nodded in understanding as he flicked the switch that ended the transmission. "Colonel," Omega came up to him again, "Dr. Salik says he's going to operate on the commander now." The executive officer gave him a pensive stare. "Omega," he said, "Watch over the bridge for a few centons. I'll be back soon." "Yes sir." Slowly, Tigh headed for the bridge exit for the first time since before the battle. With seemingly nothing else to do at the moment, there was a fierce determination within Tigh to go see Adama before the operation. Especially when it was tinged with the realization that no matter what happened to the Galactica, he might not ever have another chance to see or talk to him again. ***** Chapter Thirty-One: Adama's Plan Tigh slowly walked into the Life Station. Inside, he was a churning mass of apprehension. Outwardly, he was determined to keep it completely hidden from Adama. More than anything else, Tigh wanted his friend to know that he was acting exactly as he was expected to in this critical situation. He saw Adama's pod at the back end of the room and with a firmness in his walk, came over and knelt next to him. "Adama?" he asked as gently as he could. The half-dilated eyes opened, and the Commander barely tilted his head a fraction of an inch, "Tigh?" the voice was still the same awful rasp he had heard on the bridge. "I understand they're going to fix you up," the executive officer injected a tiny positive inflection into his voice. "How...bad is it, Tigh?" "You'll come through just fine," he smiled faintly at his long-time friend, "Just fine." "Not me," the commander rasped, "The ship?" Tigh hesitated slightly. "I...know about the fire." The executive officer gave up trying to show any false bravado. Honesty was one of the qualities Adama had always admired in Tigh, and he decided it would be more shameful to abandon that now. "It's bad," Tigh's voice became grave, "Very bad. It's headed for both the Energizer and the solium tanks. We...thought we had it solved, but the plan failed. We can't put the fire out." Adama said nothing. "I'm sorry, Adama," Tigh's shoulders sagged slightly and he looked down at the floor, "I've done all I possibly can to try and save her, but I'm afraid I've failed. I'm sorry, I let you down." "Tigh." The executive officer found himself unable to look at him. "Look...at me, Tigh," a harder edge entered Adama's barely audible rasp, and Tigh finally forced himself to look at him again. "It's a...terrible situation. But...there's still a way." The executive officer frowned and leaned closer to him. "A...drastic way...If all else has failed...let the vacuum of space...smother it." "You mean blow the hull?" Tigh asked. "Yes," Adama motioned his head a fraction of an inch, "Explosive charges on the hull...Blow hole...Deprive the fire of oxygen." "Adama," Tigh said patiently, "Doing that carries an enormous risk that could destroy us anyway." "How?" "Using explosives on the hull runs the risk of further weakening the structural integrity of this ship in too many areas." "Not if...precise," even in this sorry condition, Adama's mind was still able to explain things with precision, "Keep charges and explosion in limited area of fire...Only way." Tigh found it impossible to debate the point and nodded, "You're right. We've no other options left us. It's got to be done," he then looked down at him again, "But there may be a lot of people trapped in the fire zones. Blowing the hull could kill them all." Adama looked him in the eye, "Do...you...really believe Boxey...and Athena are still alive?" Tigh didn't change his expression, "You know?" The commander's eyes closed, "I...overheard a great deal...when I was supposed to be resting...Poor warrior who'd...tried to rescue them when it started...told Apollo." "Sergeant Kulanda." "Make sure...he's put down for decoration." "I will," Tigh nodded, "Adama, right now we're not sure about them. But Apollo thinks that they might try to send Muffit through one of the ducts. If he gets through, we'll send them back some oxygen masks." "That daggit's...remarkable," a wry edge entered the raspy tone, "Should...be able...to do it." "I hope so," Tigh said, "I hope so." Cassiopeia then came over to them and placed a hand on the back end of the life pod. "It's time, Colonel," she said. As Cassiopeia and another med-tech started to pull the pod away to the operating theater, the executive officer looked at Adama one last time. "I'll get to work on the plan now, Adama," he said with a sense of firmness that was more genuine than when he'd entered the room, "The best people will be on it." ***** As the executive officer left the Life Station, he immediately saw Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba approaching. He instantly held up a hand and stopped them. "The commander's already being operated on," Tigh said, "You can't see him." "I must," Apollo said calmly. "No you mustn't," Tigh raised his tone, "Because right now, I need the three of you for the last chance we have at putting this fire out. Follow me to the bridge." Nothing further needed to be said, as the three warriors immediately turned around and followed Tigh in the other direction. ***** "Here's how it'll work," Tigh said as the four of them hunched over the computer monitor that displayed the Galactica's blueprints, "Two warriors in vacuum suits leave the ship through the emergency hatch number fourteen, located here," he pointed to a spot along the hull that was across from the port landing bay wing. "Uh, did you say two warriors, sir?" Starbuck asked as he wondered what sort of thing he was going to get into this time. "Yes, two warriors, Lieutenant," Tigh was blunt, "Bennann has already lost nearly a dozen men, and all the Maintenance people who aren't dealing with things in here have been sent in to back him up. And since you warriors have as much EVA training as they do..." "I think I get the picture, Colonel," Starbuck said with resignation. Tigh nodded and went back to the blueprints. "At a series of points on top of the hull running from hatch fourteen to hatch nineteen, and across to the top of the landing bay, explosive charges will be set. These will blow holes that will end up exposing both sections of Alpha Deck, as well as the landing bay, to the vacuum and put out the fire." The three warriors stared at the diagram intently. "Colonel," Apollo said, "If people are in a compartment where the fire hasn't penetrated so far, they'd be safe from the explosions, wouldn't they?" "No, because there is a danger factor from the potential loss of pressure," Tigh was blunt, "If the explosion causes their compartment door to collapse, then they'd be exposed to the same vacuum putting out the fire zone. Lifemasks would be useless for them. I'm afraid it's a risk we're just going to have to take." "I understand," Apollo nodded, "How many charges will be needed?" "Twelve high level ones. And they have to be placed exactly right." "Starbuck?" Apollo glanced wryly at his friend who shrugged. "I know I'm a fool," he sighed, "But I'm ready to give it a try." "Very well," Tigh said, "Sheba, get your viper ready. You'll be monitoring Starbuck and Apollo's progress as they work their way along the hull." "Yes, Colonel," Sheba nodded. Just then, Omega came up with another report, "Colonel, the temperature reading in the Energizer room just entered the danger mark. The same with the solium tanks." "Time's running out," Tigh said to the three warriors, "Get going." As the three of them moved out, Apollo cast a quick and forlorn glance at the duct. Then, he suddenly stopped and let out an exclamation, "Of course, mushies!" "Huh?" Starbuck frowned, "How can you think about mushies at a time like this?" "Colonel," Apollo turned back to Tigh, "Trust me on this. Boxey trained Muffy to sniff out mushies. Put a plate of them under this duct, and it'll lead him straight to here like a beacon." Tigh looked at him with a dubious expression. "I'm serious, Colonel, do it!" "Okay," the executive officer slowly nodded, "Consider it done. Now in the meantime, you get your astrum down to hatch fourteen, now!" "Yes sir!" Apollo's tone was brighter than it had been in a long while as he turned and left the bridge with Starbuck and Sheba trailing. "Omega," Tigh said with perfect seriousness, although he almost found it difficult to keep a straight face, "Have some...mushies sent up here, immediately." The bridge officer didn't even try to keep a straight face as he nodded and went off to carry out the order. ***** Chapter Thirty-One: Climax Of The crisis "We've reached the final fall-back positions, Colonel," there was a note of exhaustion in Bennann's voice for the first time all day, "From this point on, my men can only stand where they are until the fire overtakes them." "That won't be necessary, Bennann," Tigh said over headset, "In another fifteen centons, you're to pull all your teams out." There was a brief pause, as the Chief Firefighter wondered if his headset was now being affected by the heat. "Could you repeat that, Colonel?" "You heard me," the executive officer was firm, "In fifteen centons, you're to get all your men off Alpha Deck. We're setting charges to the hull outside, and hoping to put out the fire by exposing the areas to the vacuum. Your fire suits aren't strong enough to handle the pressure loss, so you'll have to be out of there before we blow those charges." "Yes, it's pretty obvious that's the only option you've got left," Bennann admitted. "Colonel, when will the charges be blown?" "Right now, the best estimate is about twenty to twenty five centons." "Well if that's the case Colonel, you'll have to give us more than fifteen until we evacuate," the Chief Firefighter protested, "Leaving this fire unattended for ten centons or even five is going to cause this ship to go up before you have the charges ready." "You need a safety factor Jorda, or else there's no way you'll get off that deck alive before the charges blow." "Well in the interest of survival Colonel, that safety factor is going to be lowered. I'll start removing those who aren't manning the boraton, but the hoses in our final lines of defense are staying until the last possible micron." "Bennann," Tigh said patiently, "I'll cut as much slack as I possibly can, but the micron I give the final order to go, I expect you to obey it." "And if I don't follow it and the gamble doesn't pay off, what's my punishment going to be, Colonel?" Bennann sarcastically retorted, "No honor guard for my funeral?" Tigh slowly shook his head in exasperation, and decided that the Chief Firefighter had been through too much to merit a harsh response. "Bennann," he said calmly, "Just don't take any unnecessary risks. Keep this channel open at all times." "Yes sir," Bennann sighed, "Standing by." As soon as Tigh ended the conversation he turned around and saw a sheepish Omega holding a tray with more than twelve large pieces of the popular sweet-smelling blue candy. "The mushies sir," he said as he handed it to Tigh, "As requested." Tigh rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief as he took the tray and gently set it down on the inside of the duct. "Omega," he said, "In the midst of all this destruction, why do I suddenly feel like a character in the middle of an Aquarian situation comedy?" ***** In the operating section of the Life Station, Adama's pod had been moved into position. Cassiopeia had already gone through the Hypersonic Scrub procedure and donned her mask and gown, and now stood over Adama as she waited for Salik. "We'll be applying the anesthesia in a few microns, Commander." Adama didn't open his eyes, "Salik...is good. I'm not... afraid." "Of course," Cassiopeia smiled behind her mask, "When you wake up, you'll be fine, the Galactica will be fine, Boxey and Athena will be waiting to talk to you, and you'll meet Princess Alpha." "The...hand of the Lord...is with us," he whispered, "He's... protected us...all this time. He won't...forsake us now...Not when our journey...isn't finished." Cassiopeia then lowered the anesthetic mask over Adama's nose and mouth. Adama's labored words then ceased as he drifted out into unconsciousness. Salik then entered the room in full surgical garb. "All right," he said in the same professional tone he adopted before every operation he'd ever performed, "Let's get started." ***** The heat inside the storage compartment grew ever more oppressive, as Boomer finally discarded his flight jacket. Four of the twenty people had now succumbed to the increasingly unbearable conditions and slipped into unconsciousness, and Boomer knew that without additional oxygen, it would only be a matter of time before their unconscious sleep would slip another level into death. He almost wondered if he should envy them. At least they wouldn't have to be awake and feel the increased terror within, as the oxygen continued to dissipate and the danger of suffocation became more real. Or if that didn't come first, they didn't have to be terrified by the sight of the smoke coming through the door and wondering when the power of the fire on the other side would explode through the door and burn them to death in a terrible wall of flame. He looked back at the duct. Muffit had been gone almost a centar now. He had to admit that it seemed more likely now that the gamble he'd tried had failed. They were still stranded at the bottom of the Piscean Grand Canyon and hadn't been able to climb an inch. I should tear that fracking Wilker's head off, he thought. He's the one who built that damned daggit, couldn't he at least have designed it to do something better than learn how to sniff out a mushy? Boomer abruptly shook his head and took a breath. He realized that his mind was starting to drift off as he grew more starved for oxygen. He couldn't afford to let that happen. Not yet. He looked over at Athena. The commander's daughter had placed a protective arm around Boxey, who was now clinging to his aunt with a sense of increased fear. The little boy had been through a lot in his short life. He had faced the prospect of sudden violent death not once, but three times: ---On Caprica, when, during the Holocaust, the Cylon fighters leveling Caprica City had streaked over his head, and his mother Serina had dragged him out of the way before one of the downtown structures had toppled and collapsed in the Plaza where the worthless sign PEACE had been spelled out. ---On Carillon, where the little boy's love for his daggit had led him to wander off deep into the reaches of the planet where the Cylon patrols were waiting to spring their trap on the people who had gathered there. ---On Equis, when his inquisitive sense of adventure led him to stow away on the shuttlecraft taking the team of warriors to that planet for their dangerous mission of destroying the deadly Cylon supergun. But as he looked at Boxey and saw how the little boy's arms were tightly wrapped around Athena, Boomer had the feeling that in spite of all those hellish, past experiences, this was the first time that Boxey truly felt afraid. Then again, he thought further,I've been through even more hellish experiences as a warrior. And while I've long-known what it felt like to be afraid, I can't help but think that when compared to the prospect of being blasted out of the sky by a Cylon fighter, or shot in the chest by a centurion, this is by far, a more frightening way to die. He settled down between Athena and the still-comatose Alpha and let out a sigh. "You know," he said aloud, "I almost feel insulted. I took my warrior's oath and said I'd be willing to die for the Colonial nation, but the storage closet of the Rejuvenation Center wasn't quite what I had in mind." Athena let out a grim chuckle as she continued to stroke Boxey's head. Once again, Boomer had demonstrated that he certainly didn't have any kind of deathwish inside him. Not at all like Apollo, she thought. She looked down at Boxey and another troubling thought went through her: If we fail to make it, will the subconscious desire for death that I'm convinced lurks somewhere inside my brother, suddenly become more manifest? As if she were already accepting the inevitable about their fate, she suddenly found herself praying more for Apollo than for themselves. ***** Apollo and Starbuck entered the airlock that led to hatch number fourteen. With the swiftness instilled in them by their warrior training, they had their bulky vacuum suits on in less than two centons. Before putting the clear helmets on, Apollo opened the box they had picked up in the Ordinance section. Inside were twelve, hand-shapes high-level explosive charges. "We each take six," he said, "Attach three on each side of your suit." Starbuck pulled one out and attached it to the velcro backing on the upper left side of his suit, "Boy, this sure gives new meaning to carrying a lot of firepower on you." Apollo rolled his eyes and adjusted his headset. "Colonel Tigh, this is Apollo. We should be away in another centon. Tell Sheba to launch and wait for us." "Affirmative." "Any sign of Muffit?" he added. Tigh sighed, hating to give the answer he now had to make, "No Apollo. And I have to be blunt with you. In another fifteen centons, I'm having all the ducts leading from the fire areas sealed off. If the explosions work, we have to keep the vacuum from getting into the other areas of the ship." Apollo lowered his head in dejection. Once again, the sickening image of Hardall and Dion flashed through his head, and with it the increased anxiety he felt about Athena and Boxey. "I understand," he said calmly, "Will report again as soon as we're on the hull." He cast a glance at Starbuck, who had finished attaching the rest of the charges to his suit and was looking at him with concern. "Come on buddy," Starbuck said gently. "Keep a stiff upper lip." Apollo smiled reassuringly as his professional instincts returned to him, and he lowered his helmet on to his head. ***** "You're cleared to launch, Sheba," Tigh radioed, "Assume position at contact range of eight microns from hull. Stay in holding pattern until further notice." There was no response as Sheba hit the launch button and her viper roared off. Tigh calmly adjusted his headset as he heard the static from her viper launch crackle through his ears. He then frowned and tugged at it again. It almost sounded as if the static was lingering longer than it should have. But then, Tigh's frown deepened when he realized that the lingering sound wasn't coming from his headset but was coming from behind him. "Colonel, look!" Omega blurted. The executive officer turned around and did a double-take when he saw the sight of an orange robot daggit in the duct, bumping into the tray of mushies and sending it to the floor with a loud crash. "I don't believe it," he said as he and the bridge officer dashed up to the duct and took Muffit out, "It actually worked." "There's a message on him," Omega took the rolled-up piece of paper out of Muffit's collar and handed it to Tigh. "'Twenty people cut off in storage compartment three, adjacent to Rejuvenation Center,'" Tigh read aloud, "'Eight injured. Princess Alpha overcome by smoke, but probably still alive. Only five lifemasks. Air becoming unbreathable. Athena and Boxey safe at present. Need additional lifemasks and instructions-Boomer.'" The executive officer looked at Omega with an increased sense of urgency, "Put forty lifemasks in a bag, and get some string to tie on to his tail." Omega nodded and ran off to the storage locker on the other side of the bridge. Tigh incredulously shook his head as he patted Muffit's head and then picked up one of the mushies that had fallen out of the tray. "Saved by a mushy," he said under his breath, "I am living in an Aquarian situation comedy." ***** "Beta Zone report." "She's getting closer sir," Ephas replied, "Won't be much longer and another flare-up's going to blow the Energizer door off." "Stand by," Jorda switched frequencies, "Gamma Zone, report." "The flare-ups have been quiet over here, sir," this from Fabamant. "I think we've slowed the momentum again but the bulkhead wall has really taken a bad beating." Bennann stopped to think as his mind went over the blueprints of the Galactica he'd been studying earlier. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers in spite of his thick gloves, " Fabamant, listen up. There's an auxiliary turbo-lift on the other side of the solium tanks. As soon as I get word from Tigh that half of the explosives are in place, I want you to put all your effort into getting that wall down, and part of the ceiling. Get it to block the corridor and act as a temporary fire wall. As soon as you've done that, leave your hose valves in the on position and get over to that lift and get off this deck as fast as you can." "Sir, that wall wouldn't last more than five centons as a barrier." "That's long enough," Bennann said, "I don't want the fire in that zone to accelerate once I have to pull your group out of there. Just stand by for now." The lights above the Chief Bennann suddenly dimmed again, and stayed out for two long microns before coming on again. "Beta Zone?" he urgently signaled. "We're okay, sir," Ephas nervously exhaled, "It didn't blow the door open, but the next one just might." "I'm on my way over," Bennann said and then turned to Doega and the other firefighter still stationed at the hose control system. "Okay, that's it men. Nothing more to do here. We're going to pitch in and help Ephas' team right up to the last possible micron." ***** "Vitalizing knife-cutter, please," Salik extended his gloved hand. Cassiopeia handed him the instrument that would enable him to make the precise incision in Adama's chest that would open only the amount of the heart that needed to be exposed. Another one of the miracles of modern medicine that he had spoken of with pride to Apollo, long ago in the day. As a medical student, Salik had always been horrified by the accounts in his textbooks of how operations, especially those on the heart and the brain, had been conducted in the fourth and fifth millennias. In those days, the tools were all non-electronic, and little more than crudely forged pieces of metal with handles made of cheap plastic. Sterility of equipment was an unknown concept, and viral infections following an operation were a frequent side-effect of even the most successful ones. He'd often met his share of people who expressed a yearning to live in the simpler times of the past, at times he even sensed it in Apollo, but Salik was never impressed by any of their argument. As far as he was concerned, if the Lord had fated him to be a part of the medical profession, then the first debt of thanks he owed to the Lord was that he'd also been fated to be a man of the seventh millennium. As he turned the vitalizing knife-cutter on and held it above Adama's body, the lights suddenly dimmed and went out. The pulsing tone of the equipment again slowed down to that annoying muffle. Salik and Cassiopeia were both silent as their eyes darted about the room. They were both too tense to say anything. Then, after two microns, the lights came back on and the equipment again returned to its normal tone. Cassiopeia calmly looked him in the eye, "If that happens again while you're probing the heart wall..." she trailed off. "I know," Salik nodded, "There'll be no way of getting it out, closing him up, or keeping the anesthesia flow going." The med-tech had long ago learned not to intimidated by Salik's occasionally graphic descriptions. It was all a part of the learning process for her. If she wanted to advance to an even greater position in medicine, she had to learn to feel no emotions over something like that at all. Not even when the subject was about someone as dear to her as Commander Adama. Slowly, Salik lowered the instrument to within an inch of Adama's chest and activated the incisor beam. ***** Omega sprinted back to Tigh, carrying the bag filled with lifemasks. The executive officer had just finished scribbling another note, and had attached it to Muffit's metallic collar. "I hope he gets back there in time," Tigh gritted his teeth as he and Omega tied the strings on the bag to the daggit's tail, "Ten more centons, and I'm shutting off the ducts." Once he was certain that the bag was firmly attached, he knelt down in front of the robot. "Muffit," he said as firmly as he'd spoken with Admiral Zhark, "Go back to Boxey. Boxey. Go back quickly to Boxey. Now." The daggit let out a yelp and almost instinctively jumped back into the duct. Tigh and Omega kept their eye on Muffit until it was gone from view. He then moved back to the main computer console and switched on his headset again. "Apollo?" "We're suited up, Colonel," Apollo answered, "We're depressurizing the airlock and should open the hatch in another centon." "I have good news," Tigh said, "Muffit finally showed up. We just sent him back with forty lifemasks." A relieved sigh suddenly filled Tigh's headset. "See, I told you!" Starbuck chimed in, and the executive officer could picture him grinning and giving his friend a nudge, "There was nothing to worry about after all." "We've finally done all we can for them, Apollo," Tigh added, "From here on in, their survival is all in your hands." As he switched the frequency off, Omega looked up at the executive officer with a small amount of concern. "Sir," the bridge officer asked, "Do you think that was a good idea? That last remark?" "With anyone else, no," Tigh responded, "But Apollo's different. Knowing he's in control of the fates somehow makes him a model of precision." ***** Slowly, Sheba brought her viper into position just above the section of the hull where Apollo and Starbuck would soon emerge. She felt much more emotionally tense than she had been during either the battle or the strafing run. In both of those instances, she had been able to bury her inner emotions by concentrating on the tasks that were at hand. But this time, her only task was to watch and wait, and as a result, she felt those emotions much more difficult to contain. "I'm now in position, Colonel," she radioed. "Affirmative," Tigh replied, "Apollo and Starbuck have opened the hatch. They should be emerging any micron now." She looked down at hatch number fourteen, located some four hundred feet across from the port landing bay wing. A large number of hatches and handrails dotted the battlestar's exterior. They had been designed to allow easy access for external maintenance crews whenever the Galactica had returned home to the massive space repair station on Caprica for refitting and repair. Slowly, the hatch door slid open and a figure wearing a bulky vacuum suit, glided weightlessly out, followed immediately by another. "I've sighted them now, I won't take my eyes off them for even a micron," Sheba then strained her eyes forward and frowned, "Colonel, they're not using any tethers." "Apollo? Starbuck?" the executive officer radioed back with concern. "I specifically ordered you two to be securely tethered to the ship. Explain." "Yes, Colonel," Apollo answered, "We already decided that the weightlessness is going to slow us down too much as it is. Using the tethers would delay us even longer." Sheba felt her mouth go slightly dry and swallowed. By not using their tethers, the two warriors ran the risk of flying off the surface of the Galactica right out into space. "Plan understood and approved," Tigh said, "You and Starbuck get started now. The temperature areas in both the Energizer room and the solium tanks are a micron away from jumping into the critical zones." "We'll go as fast as we can, Colonel," Apollo said as he took hold of the handrail on the top of hatch fourteen and motioned to his friend, "Okay, Starbuck, let's get moving. The first charges go about ten feet in front of the hatch, right there." "I'm right with you," Starbuck's nervous breathing was much more evident as he carefully maneuvered himself down to the next handrail. With his left hand on the rail, he gently removed the charge on the upper right side of his suit with his other hand. He could feel the powerful force of weightlessness trying to throw him off the great battlestar, and it was a struggle to completely block that sensation from his mind and proceed. Slowly, he placed the first charge down and flicked the power switch. It was now active. He glanced over at Apollo, who was twenty feet across from him and had placed his first charge down as well. Above, Sheba's mounting tension and concern finally cracked through, "Don't get careless," she said, "You could lose your grip just once and you'll be floating through space for eternity." "Yeah, thanks for the timely word of warning, Sheba," Starbuck replied with a tinge of sarcasm as the nervous sensation shot through him again. Sheba let out an inaudible sigh as she locked her viper control into neutral. Concerned as she might have been about Starbuck, the brash lieutenant's hunch was entirely correct. Slowly, one handrail at a time, the two warriors glided their way over to the next position, twenty feet down toward the landing bay wing. ***** Bennann had reached Beta Zone, where Ephas' team continued struggling to hold off the increased charge of the flames. It was reaching the point where even inside his well-insulated suit, the Chief Firefighter could feel his skin start to blister slightly. "Pour more hose on!" he motioned Doega and the other new arrivals from the hose control station. Two new jets of boraton were added to the mix, but the fire had now reached the point where it didn't even seem to hold up the inferno's progress. "Colonel, are they at the halfway point yet?" he radioed, "I have to know before I make a move in Gamma Zone." "Not yet," Tigh replied, "I'll signal you when they are. In the meantime, I'm having all the ducts leading from the fire zones shut off. Make sure all your men have lifemasks on, now." "Yes sir, we've already done that," the Chief Firefighter switched frequencies, "Fabamant?" "Getting worse sir," the alarm was increasing in his voice, "We'd like to get that bulkhead wall down, now." "Not yet!" Bennann fired back, "Not until I tell you! You start on that thing too soon, and you're as good as signing this ship's death warrant!" His angry words immediately left their mark on Fabamant. When the fireman replied, his tone was much more resigned, "Yes sir. We--frack, another flare-up!" Bennann tensed himself and waited for Fabamant to speak again. "We're okay sir," Fabamant spoke after a delay, "But I think you now understand why we're anxious to get started." "I know," the Chief Firefighter admitted and sucked in his breath as the fire grew closer toward him, "I know. Standby." ***** "Colonel," Omega pointed to the temperature monitors for both the Energizer and solium rooms. Tigh grimly shook his head as he saw the needle for the solium room jump in to the critical red zone. Once it moved further into that color zone, that would be the end of things. "Apollo's moving on to his third position," Sheba's voice filled his headset, "Starbuck's just finishing the second." "Apollo?" the executive officer tried not to sound impatient, "How much longer?" "Just another fifteen centons, Colonel." "Right now, I don't think you have it," he responded, "The solium tanks just went into the critical zone." "Boy, we're sure surrounded by some real confidence-boosters, aren't we?" Starbuck let out another chuckle over his nervous breaths. "Colonel, if time does run out, then could we just explode the charges already in place?" "Negative Starbuck" Tigh shook his head vigorously, "If we don't blow them in exactly the calculated pattern, the hull will not be opened sufficiently to smother the fire. It has to be all twelve of them, and it has to be in time. Now notify me as soon as you're at the halfway point." The executive officer then moved over to the duct where Muffit had disappeared on his journey back with the lifemasks. He then took a breath and came back to Omega's console. "One more centon, and I'm closing the ducts," he said, "That daggit had better be back there now." ***** Boomer felt increasingly dizzy as he loosened the collar of his tunic in response to the heat. It was getting more and more unbearable. He was almost prepared to accept the idea that the end of the line had come for him. If that was the case, he supposed he could look back on his life with no regrets. He'd enjoyed himself. He'd excelled at the profession he'd chosen. There wasn't much to regret. No, he thought. There was one regret. With the end fast approaching, he could now openly chide himself for never having had the strength to ask the beautiful female pilot Dietra out for a quiet dinner on the Rising Star. He knew he was drifting off into that lightheaded condition that was said to be the first step toward death. But if it numbed him to what would come afterwards, perhaps that was a blessing. Yes, he could feel it increasing. He was even starting to hear funny noises. Almost like...a daggit? "Muffy!" Boxey suddenly bolted up from Athena's side. The boy's exclamation shook Boomer back into the realm of comprehension. His mouth dropped open when he saw the robot daggit climb out of the vent and into the storage compartment, a large bag trailing from his tail. "Thank God," Athena whispered, "Thank God." As Boxey hugged his pet, Boomer and several of the non-injured prisoners removed the bag and spilled its precious contents of lifemasks out on to the floor. He immediately grabbed one and strapped it over his mouth and nose. The cool, crisp sensation of the fresh oxygen was the most rapturous thing he'd felt in his entire life as it suddenly blew all of the lightheadedness and dizziness out. In a micron, Boomer had regained all of his critical faculties. "Get them passed around!" he barked as he placed one on Boxey and handed two to Athena, who put one over Alpha's mouth and nose. "Looks as though they gave us two each." He placed his hands on Muffit, looking for some kind of note. Below the robot's neck, he found it jammed into one of the collars. Before he got it opened, the door to the vent from which Muffit had only just emerged from, suddenly slammed shut with a loud thud. Boomer looked down at the daggit and shook his head, "Muffy, your timing is impeccable as usual." "Boomer, what's going on?" Athena came up to him with her mask now firmly in place. "Sealing the vents, they must be planning something drastic," he then opened the paper. "Everyone, listen!" Athena raised her voice. With everyone now wearing their lifemasks, a hush came over the room. "'Fire out of control and threatening both Energizer and solium tanks,'" Boomer read aloud, "'Hull is being blasted open to smother fire in all sections. Rescue teams will be sent in as soon as compartment corridors next to you are repressurized-Tigh.'" A low murmur went up from the crowd. "Okay, brace yourselves everyone," Boomer said, "We just have to sit tight, and wait. If the doors on either side of us don't stand-up to the explosions, then that's it. If we come through though, then we'll just sit tight and wait. They gave us an extra mask each, so it could be up to two centars before they're here. In the meantime, get yourselves ready." Boomer moved back to the other end of the room and settled down next to Athena. "Blowing charges on the hull," he sighed, "How much are you willing to bet that Starbuck and Apollo are not out there doing that as we speak?" The commander's daughter smiled and shook her head, "The same amount I was willing to bet that the Cylons would give you a birthday party." He smiled back at her, "Looks as though you did learn something from dating Starbuck after all." " 'Even amidst the darkest and most tumultuous of storms lie shining jewels of wisdom,'" Athena recited with mock solemnity. For the first time since before the attack, Boomer felt comfortable to laugh heartily. "Athena, remind me to tell you someday how much I've hated Aquarian proverbs since the day I was first told to read them in primary school." Just then, Boxey came back over to them, a look of pure pride on his face as Muffit trailed him. "See that, Boomer?" he settled between the two of them, and his voice brightened for the first time in a long while, "I told you Muffy would come through." "He sure did, Boxey," the warrior smiled as he patted the daggit's head. Well, Boomer thought to himself, looks as though I'll now be seeing Wilker to shake his hand rather than tear off his head. ***** "Suction compress," Salik said with calm precision as he studied the right atrium of Adama's heart. The small piece of shrapnel, a broken rivet from the bridge ceiling, was now plainly in view. Cassiopeia handed him the device and the surgeon delicately lowered to within a fraction of an inch above the piece of metal. He then activated the switch, and with the gentle current flowing through the instrument, the metallic fragment suddenly lifted itself very slowly from Adama. Without brushing further against the right atrium, just as theinstrument was designed to prevent it from doing, the fragment locked tightly in place to the instrument's clamp. Slowly, Salik pulled the clamp from out of the open heart are. When it was finally away, Salik seemed to exhale behind his mask. "Okay," he sounded more relieved, "Apply massage, and then prepare to close him up." Behind her mask, Cassiopeia allowed herself a faint smile. Once again, Salik was demonstrating why she admired him so much. She looked down at Adama and slowly felt a sense of relief come over her. The worst of the operation was now over. But then again, the med-tech thought further as she handed Salik the device that would massage Adama's heart back to a normal rhythm, there was still the danger that after all this work, Fate could still play a cruel trick on them all if the ship itself didn't pull through. ***** It was getting more and more unbearable for Fabamant's team as they continued to fight the blaze in Gamma Section, and anxiously awaited the signal to start getting the bulkhead down. Finally, Fabamant heard the words from Bennann go through his headset, "Okay, they're at the halfway point! Get that bulkhead down, now!" "Thank you, sir!" Fabamant allowed himself a smile of relief, as he turned to Arones, "Okay, let's get on it!" The two of them now aimed their boraton hoses at the top of the ceiling and along the walls instead of at the blaze just fifteen feet away. From behind, Firefighter Lightilles had abandoned his position at the pump station and had trudged his way through the mist where he started pulling at the loosened sections. "Watch your footing!" Fabamant warned, as the memory of Dion flashed through his mind. Finally, after another two centons of effort, the ceiling and walls of the corridor bulkhead groaned in agony as the stress of the fire and boraton pressure finally took their toll on them. Lightilles carefully started to back away, as the noise of the metal groan increased. The ceiling and walls then collapsed in directly in front of the fire, forming a barrier against the blaze. Abruptly, the intensity of the heat against Fabamant's skin slackened just a bit. But it was clear that the debris would only hold the blaze back for a few centons at best, before its massive power would then roar through and continue its deadly journey toward the solium tanks. As Lightilles drew closer to them, another piece of ceiling debris suddenly fell and landed on his back, knocking the firefighter to the floor. "Frack!" Fabamant dropped his still active hose and agonizingly made his way forward. Lightilles was clearly unconscious from the blow. "Give me a hand with him!" he shouted at Arones. Even before he had spoken, the other veteran of the pump retrieval mission had dropped his hose and made his way forward. Amidst the flood of boraton that now swirled around their ankles against the barrier, it was a slow struggle to get the unconscious Lightilles to his feet, so they could start dragging him out. "Fabamant?" Bennann's voice shouted through the headset, "Fabamant, report!" The firefighter barely got hold of his headset to make the adjustment as he continued to help Arones drag Lightilles forward, "It's in place, sir. We're evacuating now!" A jet of flame roared against the barrier on the other side. Already, the temporary barrier had begun to lose its effectiveness as a trickle of flame made it through the openings and grazed against Fabamant's insulated suit. "Come on!" he shouted, "Move it!" As the doors to the solium tank room loomed closer, he wondered if Fate was going to play the same cruel joke on him that it had done for Hardall and Dion. Finally, like reaching the light at the end of the tunnel, they made their way past the boraton flow. Arones activated the door to the solium room and the two firemen dragged their injured comrade inside. Fabamant cast a glance at the large solium tanks around them, each one filled with its lethal contents that would turn the Galactica into a supernova as soon as the fire outside reached the interior of this room. The sight of them towering around him, and the realization of what they could do was almost enough to unnerve him completely. "Get the lift open," he gestured to Arones, "I'll manage him." Arones nodded and dashed over to the other side of the room. Fabamant threw off the hood of his fire suit, as well as Lightilles' and began to slowly carry the unconscious firefighter's body across. Ahead, Arones had reached the turbo-lift door and was standing inside, a look of frantic tension on his face. It was not going to be a swift journey across. He heard a crashing sound from behind and his heart skipped a beat. The barrier was clearly weakening further. ***** "We're clearing out of Gamma Zone, Colonel. We'll stick it out in Beta Zone a bit longer." "Okay, Bennann," Tigh's heart was starting to pound faster as he kept his eye on the temperature monitors. The solium room had leveled off after entering the critical zone, but the Energizer room level was creeping further and further into the red. "Finishing level four," Sheba's voice had gone up a degree of anxiety, "Now moving toward the landing bay wing and level five." "Apollo?" the executive officer radioed. "It'll be five more centons, Colonel." Tigh kept staring at the temperature gauges, "If I had a choice, I'd say no. But I don't have a choice, so keep at it." Slowly, Apollo and Starbuck made their way down the side of the battlestar toward the top of the landing bay wing. Here, the external damage caused the by Cylon fighter's impact was much more obvious. Several regions of the surface were already scarred by the force of the initial explosions. "These last two zones are spaced relatively close," Apollo said as Starbuck pulled alongside him. The twenty-maxim gap between them when they had set the earlier charges had now narrowed to only two, "Won't be much longer." As Starbuck continued to make his way down the handrails, he grabbed one that had been weakened from the original explosion. The blackened piece of metal instantly snapped off in his hand like a twig. "Apollo!" Starbuck shouted as the weightlessness started carrying him away from the battlestar. Apollo looked up in horror. He frantically pushed himself to the next handrail and extended his other hand as far as nature would permit. He grabbed hold of Starbuck's foot and slowly pulled him back down to the intact handrail below. Watching from above, Sheba had felt her heart leap into her throat. As she saw Starbuck safely pulled back, she smiled and let out a more pronounced sigh of relief. "Somehow, thank you doesn't seem like enough," Starbuck said, too numb to make a joke. "Don't mention it," for the first time, the sound of Apollo's nervous breath was audible, "We still have a lot of work to do." ***** Cassiopeia handed the micro sealer to Salik. One final procedure, and the operation would be over, and Adama's recovery all but assured. Slowly, the incision in Adama's chest was closed under the beam of the micro sealer. Again, Salik felt a debt of thanks to seventh millennia equipment. To think that there had actually been a time when incisions had to be closed with stitches made from thread and string, leaving ugly scars along the opening! But with micro sealers, there was never a trace of the operation left behind. Not even an operation of this magnitude. Finally, Salik shut off the instrument and pulled off his mask. "That's it," he sighed, "We've done it. Get him back out into the main room." Cassiopeia took hold of Adama's table and started pushing it out of the area. As she reached the end, the lights suddenly dimmed again. This time, they stayed out a full five microns before coming back on. Now that the operation was over, her sense of professional inner calm evaporated. For the first time since she'd been captured by the Ovions on Carillon, a creeping sense of terror started to come over her. ***** "Get the turbo-lift ready,"Bennann motioned to Doega as he stared down the corridor at the fast approaching wall of fire. Doega set down his hose and went over to the turbo-lift door just ten feet further down from the Energizer door entrance. "Here comes another flare-up!" Ephas shouted and ducked. Bennann and the three other firefighters followed. This time, the jet of flame crashed into the Energizer door and succeeded in blowing the compartment door clean out of its frame, exposing the sleek piece of equipment to the path of the next flare. Above, the lights went out for five microns before coming back on. "That's it," the Chief Firefighter said through clenched teeth, "One more flare, and it's the end of us all." "Sir!" Doega shouted as he stepped into the open lift, "Let's pull out now!" "Not yet!" Bennann shouted back and shook his head vigorously, "Not yet!" And then, the Chief Firefighter picked up Doega's discarded hose and started working on the blaze himself. ***** "Move fast, Apollo," Tigh continued to feel his heart pound as he saw the gauge for the Energizer continue to creep forward. The solium gauge had also started to inch forward again, "An extra micron could make the difference." "We're setting the last ones now, Colonel," the tension was now rising in his voice too. As Starbuck placed his last one on the top of the landing bay, he then started to make his way back up the side in the direction of hatch number twenty, which would serve as their re-entry point into the ship. "Apollo?" he called over. "My last two have magnetic bases, Starbuck," his friend replied, "I'll pull myself across with them. There's another handrail back to hatch twenty on the other side." "Frack," his friend muttered under his breath. His friend hadn't told him that he'd saved the last two, more difficult charges for himself to place. "Don't worry about me," Apollo went on, "I'll see you inside." But even though Starbuck managed to awkwardly wave back in acknowledgment, inside he was deeply worried. The way the explosives had been divided up, Apollo had taken a far greater risk than he should have allowed. Are you subconsciously trying to get yourself killed, buddy? he said to himself. ***** "Come on," Arones gritted his teeth as he held the turbo-lift door open and waited for Fabamant to finish his slow journey carrying the unconscious Lightilles the rest of the way. From behind, they heard another violent crash. Arones didn't need more than a micron to realize that the fire barrier had collapsed. Five feet away, an exhausted and panting Fabamant set Lightilles down on his feet and literally shoved the unconscious firefighter into the door, where he collapsed on to the turbo-lift floor. Arones grabbed Fabamant by the hand and pulled him in. He then frantically pressed the buttons that would send the lift up three decks to safety. As the doors slammed shut, the last thing Fabamant and Arones could see in the solium room was the sight of the compartment door collapsing on the other end. ***** "Colonel," Omega pointed to the gauges, "I think our time just ran out." Tigh felt his breath quicken, "Bennann, evacuate all your remaining men! Now!" he shouted into his headset. ***** "All right, get out! All of you into the turbo-lift!" Bennann shouted over the roar. Ephas and the other two firefighters dropped their hoses and made their way over to the lift where Doega waited. But the Chief Firefighter did not move from his position. With his hood off, and his teeth gritted with determination, he continued aiming his boraton hose at the approaching inferno. "Sir!" Doega shouted, "Get in the lift!" "I'm keeping a stream on her!" Bennann didn't look back, "It's the only way to keep that last flare from happening. Never mind me, just go now!" Doega looked at Ephas and the other two. The three of them nodded at him and motioned him out. "Sir!" Doega stepped out and took a step back towards Bennann, "We are not leaving this deck without you, and you can't make us go! We've done all we can, now come with us!" Bennann angrily looked back at him as he kept his hose going, "I'm giving you an order Doega! Get off this deck now!" "Hades Hole, sir!" he shouted, "We're not going without you!" Just then, there was a groaning sound, as the ceiling and wall five maxims ahead of them, abruptly caved in on the corridor. The approaching wall of fire had been temporarily stopped. Bennann's eyes widened in disbelief at the turn-of-events. "Sir!" Danta shouted again. This time, no prompting was needed. The Chief Firefighter threw down his hose and the two of them sprinted into the turbo-lift. Ephas set the lift to go three decks up as the doors slammed shut. The two fire areas were now devoid of all life except for the twenty people trapped in the storage compartment. ***** With agonizing listlessness, Apollo used the metal bases of the two charges to crawl over to the last spot on the landing bay where they needed to be placed. He came to a stop and sized up the handrail thirty feet away that would guide him back to hatch twenty. He would have to time a leap for it, and hope that he could grab hold of it before the force of weightlessness carried him away from the battlestar. Apollo took a breath and let go of the charges. "I've got the last charges in position, Colonel!" he shouted as he felt himself moving rapidly toward the handrail. He reached out to it. His gloves grazed the top of it...and failed to grab hold. From the handrail opposite him, Starbuck watched in horror as Apollo suddenly began to tumble end over end above the hull of the battlestar. "Apollo!" he shouted in alarm. "Apollo! Oh, God!" "No! Starbuck, don't try to help me, just get inside," Apollo roared back as he moved further away from the hull, "Those explosions are going to go off any micron now. There's nothing you can do!" "Wanna bet?" Starbuck retorted as he stood on top of the handrail and suddenly vaulted himself forward in Apollo's direction. ***** Stunned by the exchange he had just heard, Tigh nonetheless wasted no time. The executive officer took a breath and pressed the button controlling the charges from the bridge. ***** All twelve of the charges went off at the same time. Abruptly, an explosion erupted along the surface of the battlestar that to Sheba almost rivaled the ones she had witnessed earlier in the day in intensity. Both turbo-lifts had just opened three decks up when the charges went off. The fire teams inside promptly spilled to the floor of the corridor as they felt the rumble of the blast shake the deck plates beneath their feet. Inside the storage compartment, Boomer could hear the blast and then there was a whooshing rush from outside both doors as they heard the sound of the pressure escaping. "Brace yourselves!" he shouted as he backed against the wall and threw his arm around both Athena and Boxey in protective support, "Don't anyone move a muscle!" He looked at the door that led back to the Rejuvenation Center and instantly noticed that the ominous smoke cloud that had been creeping underneath for a long time, had stopped. "It's working!" Athena raised her voice cautiously, "The fire's going out!" "Let's pray the doors don't either!" Overhead, Sheba saw the blast column of the explosion dissipate, and then focused her eyes on the landing bay entrance. The creepy orange radiance once again dimmed. And then, it abruptly went out. But this time, it would not start up again. The massive wall of fire that had taken the lives of more than a dozen firemen and endangered the lives of a thousand crewmembers with a terror that not even the mightiest Cylon basestar had before instilled, died in the blink of an eye. ***** The force of the explosions were not felt at all on the bridge. Instead, Omega and Tigh both kept their eyes locked on the temperature gauges for both the Energizer and the Solium. The needles that had been deep into the red zones abruptly descended into the green zones. An exhilarated rush went through Tigh, "That did it!" he exclaimed, "That did it!" A loud cheer mixed with a great deal of relief suddenly went up from the rest of the bridge personnel, as though a bubble had finally burst. Omega burst into applause as he let out a loud, joyous laugh. But even as the realization that the massive fire was now just another chapter in the ship's history, there was still one immediate area of concern for the executive officer. "Apollo?" he blurted into his headset, "Starbuck? Do either of you copy?" There was no response. "Apollo? Starbuck?" he repeated. ***** Sheba had been stunned when she'd heard the exchange between Apollo and Starbuck, and had then watched in horror as she saw them both suddenly start rising like helium balloons into the sky before the explosion caused her to lose sight of them. So great was her concern, that she didn't even feel much exhilaration when she saw that the fire aboard the battlestar had gone out. "Sheba?" she heard Tigh's voice. "I," her voice broke slightly, "I can't see them anywhere, Colonel." "Good Lord," Tigh whispered, "The explosion must have killed them." "I don't buy it," she spoke defiantly. "Colonel, you can put me down for insubordination, but I won't give up. I'm going to stay out here until I find them." Sheba took her viper out of its holding position, switched on her scanners and activated her turbos. ***** Three decks above the fire zones, the teams of firefighters slowly got back to their feet. Doega immediately noticed that Bennann seemed too weak to get up. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked as he took him by the hand and pulled the Chief Firefighter to a standing position. "I'm fine," Bennann's voice was reduced to a mere whisper. Instantly, Doega was amazed at how in a manner of minutes,Bennann had been transformed from the grim and determined martyr he had tried to become, to a seemingly spent and exhausted shell of his old decisive self. "Sir," Doega took him by the arm as a concerned Ephas also stepped in, "I think its safe to say that your job is done now. I don't think Colonel Tigh or anyone else is going to object if you go back to your quarters and get some rest." Bennann calmly pushed them both aside. "There are still twenty people trapped down there in a storage compartment," he said calmly, "I'm going to the bridge to get instructions from Tigh on how we can help get them out." He then slowly trudged off to the turbo-lift at the other end of the corridor. Behind him, Doega and Ephas both shook their heads in amazed admiration and almost felt the urge to start clapping. ***** As the whooshing sound from outside the doors came to an end, Boomer finally decided it was safe to get to his feet. He made his way over and carefully placed his hand on the door that had earlier caused him to withdraw it in pain because of the intense heat. This time, the door felt intensely cold to the touch. "It's a total vacuum out there now," he said as he took another breath through his mask and then faced the crowd. "Okay," he said, "The immediate danger is over. The fire's out, and we know they're going to try and send teams in here to get us out. Now obviously, it's going to take some time or they wouldn't have sent us the extra masks. For those of you who are injured, I know it's asking a lot of you to have to wait some more. But this time, I think we can all feel a little secure that the worst danger has past, and that help will be on the way real soon." He made his way back to Athena, Boxey and the comatose Alpha and slowly collapsed to the floor. "Another damn waiting phase," Athena sighed from under her mask, "This actually makes me yearn for the old Caprica-Sagitara shuttle service." "Oh boy," Boomer rolled his eyes as memories flooded back, "Did I ever have some long nights at the Caprica City Spacedrome waiting for that." "Remember those little snack carts they used to wheel through the terminal?" Athena reminisced, "They had the worst tasting protein chunks I ever had in my life." "Don't remind me, Athena," he grunted, "Because you're reminding me that there's no food in this room, and I haven't had a bite since before the attack." "Why do you think I said this whole thing makes me yearn for that?" she smiled back at him. Boxey started tugging at Boomer's tunic. "Yes, Boxey?" "Muffy's ready to go for more help," he said eagerly. "He can't Boxey," Boomer smiled and patted the little boy's head, "The ducts he went through have been sealed off from the bridge. I think Muffy's done enough heroic deeds for one day." "Will he get a medal?" he asked as the robot let out another energetic yelp. Boomer reached over and stroked the daggit's somewhat rough synthetic fur, "He sure will," he said, "He sure will." The only thing he wondered though, was how many other people would be getting medals too? An even more chilling thought to wonder, was how many of them would be posthumous? ***** As Tigh continued to maintain his perch over Omega's console, he found himself slowly rubbing his fingers to work off some of the new tension he was now feeling. The bridge officer's ears suddenly perked up as another message came in on his headset. "Colonel," he turned to the executive officer, "Message from the Life Station. Commander Adama is out of danger." Tigh allowed himself to smile for only a brief instant. "God help me," he said, "if the first thing I have to tell him is that his son is dead." ***** Sheba's eyes kept darting back and forth from her scanners to her surrounding field-of-vision. Inside, she only allowed herself to be angry instead of concerned. It was the only way she could keep herself from becoming an emotional wreck. Slowly, she exhaled to let off some steam. And then, something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. Something that seemed too large to be a distant star, but also too small to be an approaching ship. Sheba drew her viper in closer, straining her eyes to get a better look. Just then, she heard a crackling static go through her helmet. "She---can see---now." "Apollo?" her hopes cautiously went up, "Starbuck? If that's you, you're garbled. Please repeat." As she drew closer and the form became more distinct, she recognized them both. They were holding on to each other with both hands. "Sheba, we copy you," Apollo's voice broke into relief, "Sorry we couldn't answer at first. The explosion made it difficult to readjust our headsets." Sheba broke into a smile of relief and joy, "Colonel Tigh!" for the first time, her voice was jubilant, "I see them both. They're alive and well." "Thank God," Tigh finally let all the remaining tension escape from him, "Thank God. Apollo, can you hear me?" "Yes, Colonel," Apollo said as he peered at the awkwardly grinning visage of his friend, "I'm safe. Thanks to Starbuck." "We'll have a shuttle out to pick you up in a little bit." "My father?" he asked with an anxious edge. "He's doing fine," Tigh said with a renewed sense of confidence, "And according to our computer reading, the storage compartment doors withstood the explosion. It'll only be a matter of time before we get to them." "Thank you, sir," Apollo sighed, "Thank you." "Sheba, stand by and keep them company until the shuttle gets there." "With pleasure," Sheba grinned, "With pleasure." As the viper assumed a holding position fifty feet away from them, Apollo looked Starbuck in the eye, "Thanks again, Starbuck." "Yeah well," Starbuck sheepishly chuckled and cast an idle look at the openness of space that surrounded them, "I guess I just can't stand the thought of you going anywhere without me." ***** Chapter Thirty-Two: One Last Job To be Done A sense of calm after the storm filled the bridge now that the danger of the fire was over. But with the focus now shifting to that of getting the great battlestar back to full working order, the intensity level of the crewmen had failed to slacken in the least. "Colonel," there was a relaxed edge to Omega's voice for the first time since before the attack, "Maintenance says they've been able to cannibalize some spare parts that should get deep-scan operational again in about ten centons." "Good," Tigh nodded, "The sooner we get those patrols back here, the better." "We should also have the rest of internal communications back in just a little bit." He looked down at the bridge officer, "Then we should be able to talk to Boomer on the telecom and start coordinating the rescue activities. Let me know when that's fixed, and tell Maintenance to get a man up here to tell me what they're going to be doing on that." "Shaddrack's already on his way," Omega said, "and the shuttle carrying is Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck now returning." "Have them report to the Life Station as soon as they land." ***** Cassiopeia and Salik both stood over Adama's life pod in the main room of the Life Station with an air of anxiousness inside them. The tubes had been removed from the commander's body, and his expression now seemed to be that of a man who was merely in the gentle throes of a peaceful sleep. They heard the door hiss open and saw Apollo and Starbuck enter, both still wearing their EVA suits. "How is he?" Apollo asked as he came up to them. Salik smiled, "He should be coming round any micron now, as soon as the rest of the anesthetic wears off." Cassiopeia let out a sigh of relief when she saw Starbuck and the two of them immediately hugged each other. It was the first time they'd had a chance to see each other since before the battle. They released each other and went back to Adama's life pod. The commander's eyes had started to slightly twitch. And then, after another micron, they came open. For the first time in a long while, Adama was able to tilt his head upward. "Apollo?" the voice was still a whisper, but the raspy tone was gone now. "I'm here, Father," his son smiled and reached inside to squeeze his hand, "The plan worked. The ship is safe from danger." "What about Boxey and Athena?" "They're alive and safe for now," Apollo said, "But it'll take a little more time to get them out of the compartment." "Good," Adama rested his head against the pillow, "I want to see them both, so much." "You will," Apollo tightened his grip on his father's hand, "It won't be long now. In the meantime, you rest some more." "Okay," Adama replied and reciprocated the squeeze. For the first time, Apollo could sense some of his father's strength coming back. "I told you, I'd make it through alive, didn't I? At least," he took a breath, "I think I did." And then, his eyes closed and the Galactica commander was fast asleep. "If the current progress stays this way, he'll be released in two to three days. A sectan at the most," Salik said. "Will he be up to duty, do you think?" Apollo asked. "I think so," the middle-aged doctor nodded, "But I would hope for his sake, that there be no more attacks like this one." "I'm sure that goes for all of us, Doc," Starbuck said. "I suppose so," Salik smiled. "If I'm needed for anything, I'll be on the bridge," Apollo turned toward the door, "Starbuck?" His friend shook his head and cast a glance at Cassiopeia, "Not just yet, buddy. Go ahead without me." Apollo nodded and departed. "Doctor?" Cassiopeia inquired of Salik, "Will you be needing for the next five centons?" The doctor nodded in understanding, "I think a short break is in order for you, Cassiopeia." The two of them moved off to an empty end of the room, where they hugged each other again. "Thank God, you're safe," the emotions Cassiopeia had held back all this time were now slowly coming out. "Cassie," he smiled as he gently stroked her hair, "You know you can't get rid of me that easily." "It's been a horrible day," the med-tech trembled for the first time, "Just horrible." "But we're all still alive," Starbuck kept smiling, "That's all that counts." "There's going to be a problem getting Athena and Boxey out, isn't there?" Starbuck's smile faded and he let go of her. "It's...not an easy procedure, from what little I know about it," he absently looked off in the other direction. She instantly noticed the change in his voice. "Starbuck," she asked gently, "You do still care a lot about Athena, don't you? You haven't forsaken her for..." He turned around and looked her in the eye with the most serious expression she'd ever seen on his face. "Of course I care about Athena," Starbuck said quietly. "And you. And Alpha." Cassiopeia nodded in understanding. "Of course. I'm sorry for doubting you." "But that still doesn't mean I don't know where my future concerns lie," he gently put his hands on her shoulders, "Because I've been sure about that for a long time, Cassie." A tiny smile etched the corners of Cassiopeia's lips. "So have I, Starbuck," she said. He pulled her close to him and they shared a brief, gentle kiss on the lips. Just then, the corridor door opened, and they could see the exhausted and thoroughly scarred Fabamant and Arones, pulling the still-unconscious Lightillesinto the Life Station. "I have to go back to work, Starbuck," she said, "We'll talk later." "Sure," he nodded, feeling grateful that they'd at last had a clearing of the air on some difficult subjects. ***** When Apollo reached the bridge, he saw that Shaddrack, the Master Tech of the Galactica's Maintenance and Repair team had already arrived, along with an emotionally spent Bennann. The two of them had gathered with Tigh by the computer that displayed the battlestar's blueprints. The executive officer looked up and motioned Apollo over. Right away, Apollo felt slightly uneasy when he saw the grim expression on Tigh's face. "I'm glad you're here, Apollo," Tigh said, "Maybe you can help us get a plan hammered out." "What's wrong?" Apollo asked with concern. "Nothing at the moment, Captain," Shaddrack said, "It's just that we're in a bit of a quandry as to how we should approach this thing." "What kind of...quandary?" "Take a look," the executive officer pointed at the screen, "They're located here, in Storage Compartment #3, surrounded by the Rejuvenation Center on one side, and a corridor that leads twenty-five feet to an auxiliary turbo lift on the other. Ideally, the quickest way out would be through there." "But?" Apollo waited for the other shoe to drop. "The problem is the hull breach you helped create in that particular zone. It's larger and wider than any of the others," Shaddrack said, "Attacking it there, would take more than a centar, perhaps closer to two, before we could have it done safely, and then get the area repressurized." "Which cuts too fine a safety margin with their remaining oxygen supply," Tigh noted. "The other area, requires sealing off a more narrow, but ultimately longer breach," the Master Tech pointed, "Because the other way out would mean going back through the Rejuvenation Center and down a corridor of nearly a hundred feet to the main turbo-lift." "And extra time for repressurization of both the corridor, and the Rejuvenation Center," Tigh said, "Either way, we're up against time more than we would have preferred." "Then get more lifemasks to them," Apollo said as he started to feel the tension return to his body. "Impossible," Tigh was emphatic, "The vents have to stay shut. The forty masks I sent to them are the best we can do. I'm sorry, Apollo. I'm afraid this has turned into another race against time." Apollo closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, as he tried to fight back the sick feeling in his stomach. He then collected himself and said as calmly as he could, "What about diverting more men to this? The more hands you have working on it, the quicker they can get the job done." "Captain, I only have eight men who are qualified to operate a photosealer module," Shaddrack said patiently, "In the interests of saving these people, I'm having all of them assigned to this operation, and they will all be sent to the one area where the breach will be worked on. That, plus one man to handle the repressurization unit, and another to repair the door, is all I can spare. My other teams are at this micron, trying to get the bridge shield replaced and the port landing bay cleaned up. I'm sorry but I can't take them off those jobs." "Then let me help on this," Apollo said instinctively, "I've still got the EVA suit on, so I can hook up with them right away." Tigh suddenly rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Captain," Shaddrack was slowly losing his patience, "One thing am not going to do, is send inexpert men into areas where they can't do any good. Never at any time in your life have your hands touched a photosealer module, so you wouldn't know the first thing about what's involved in a job like this. Neither does any other warrior for that matter." "Just let me go along," there was almost a pleading tone in his voice, "You have to let me help on this." Bennann, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly placed his hand on Apollo's shoulder and turned him around so that he was looking the Chief Firefighter right in the eye. "Captain," he said slowly and deliberately, "Listen to this, and listen good. My job for today is finished, and so... is... yours." For a long moment, there was silence, as Apollo looked at Bennann's hauntingly grim and determined expression. The strong tone of the Chief Firefighter's words, coupled with the look on his face, and the fact that he and Apollo had shared a terrible experience together in witnessing the deaths of Hardall and Dion, finally left an impact on Apollo that no one else could have been able to make. "Okay," Apollo said quietly and held up his hands in resignation, "Okay, you win." Tigh promptly let out a sigh of relief. "If it's okay with you Colonel, I would like to stay here on the bridge and monitor the situation." "That's the least I can do, Apollo," the executive officer said, "Internal communications should be restored in a centon, so we should be able to talk to them." "Well since we are dealing with a race against time, Shaddrack," Apollo turned back to the Master Tech, "May I at least suggest that you make your decision on which way to approach them, now?" Shaddrack nodded and studied the blueprint one more time. Finally, the Maintenance Chief took a breath, "I'm going to take a chance on the short way out. I'll head down to hatch thirteen and join the group I've already got standing by." "Stay in touch with us," Tigh said. "We will," Shaddrack said, "Oh, and Captain Apollo?" "Yes?" We'll get them all out, safe," there was reassurance in his voice, "You have my word." "The Lords be with you," Apollo shook his hand before the Maintenance Chief turned and departed. Bennann put his hand on Apollo's shoulder and slowly guided him to the other side of the bridge. "Thank you, Bennann," Apollo sighed, "I guess I was on the verge of doing something really stupid. I probably wouldn't have listened to anyone else." "Yeah, well, we've both been through a lot today," there was little emotion in the Chief Firefighter's voice, "Probably enough to last a lifetime." Apollo turned to him, "How many men did you lose?" "Twelve, all told," Bennann was looking off into the distance, "Four in the Boraton Mist Control Center, two teams of three each after the mega-pressure pump fracked out on us, and... of course you already knew about Firefighters Hardall and Dion." "I'm never going to forget that for the rest of my life," Apollo shuddered, "All the yahrens I've been a warrior, I've never seen anyone die like that." "War is a lot more sanitary, isn't it Captain?" Bennann on to the railing, "Just the blink of an eye, and a viper is blown out of the stars. Or if you're shot by a laser pistol, it doesn't really do too much visible external damage to the body." "I know," Apollo said, and then added pointedly, "Not that that makes it any less painful, Bennann. That's how my wife was killed." "I know all about that, Apollo," for the first time, the Chief Firefighter had addressed him by name, "I've been down that road myself." Apollo frowned slightly, "Have you?" Bennann nodded, "My son and daughter were killed during the Holocaust." "I'm sorry," a wave of sympathy suddenly filled him, "Were they pilots?" Bennann smiled crookedly and shook his head, "No, Apollo. They grew-up and became firefighters, just like their father was. And it just so happened that Fate destined them to be assigned to the fire team aboard the Atlantia." Apollo settled down in the chair just three feet from where he was perched on the railing. "Do you know what always made me bitter the most?" Bennann went on, "It was the whole suddenness of the thing. The way the Atlantia just went up like that," he snapped his fingers, "I mean, I could always picture the two of them springing into action when the attack began, determined to put a lifetime of learning at my feet, and four yahrens at the Academy to do the job they'd been waiting their whole lives to do. And before they ever could have had a chance to get started on their work, the Atlantia was gone." The Chief Firefighter stopped to take a breath, "I'd always accepted the possibility that they could die in their line of work, just like I always had to accept it for myself. But going that quickly, without even a chance to show that you'd at least died doing the best you could," he shook his head, "That was too much for me to handle for a long time. I still don't think I've ever really come to terms with it." Apollo continued to listen with both enthrallment and a deep sense of compassion. He realized that he and Bennann had a lot more in common than the experience of working together today. Just as the suddenness of the Chief Firefighter's sons death had been difficult to accept, so too had it been for Apollo in trying to cope with the loss of first Zac, then his mother, and then Serina. Especially Serina. "Apollo," Tigh suddenly called over to him, "Internal communications are now back. We're going to try and contact them now." Apollo rose from his chair, and patted Bennann on the shoulder "I appreciate what you've had to say," he said, "You might as well go back to your quarters and get some well-deserved rest." The Chief Firefighter rose and smiled thinly. "Not a chance," he shook his head, "I have a vested interest in knowing the final outcome of all this." Apollo returned the smile and they went back over to Tigh's station. ***** Before the explosions, the mood inside the storage compartment had been one of a sense of creeping terror. Now, as the twenty people all breathed through the first of their two individual lifemasks, the mood had slowly turned into one of boredom for the non-injured, and a frustrating sense of impatience for the injured. "I should have at least remembered to bring a deck of cards in here," Boomer mused as he continued to lie against the wall next to Athena and Boxey, "I could have started a quick pyramid game and at least come out of here with some extra cubits. Then the day wouldn't have been such a total loss after all." "I've seen you play, Boomer," Athena shook her head, "It would have been more of a loss for you." "You've never seen me play against someone other than Starbuck," he replied, "And the difference is that this game would be honest." Before Athena could come up with a quip in response to that, there was suddenly a loud piercing beep that caused everyone in the room to jump slightly. Boomer got to his feet and saw that the telecom unit on the wall was now flashing a red light. "Well, it looks as though the telecom's fixed," he picked it up, "Hello?" "Boomer?" Tigh's voice filled the earpiece. "Hello, Colonel Tigh," Boomer said with relief, "Do I owe you an apology for demanding that time off this morning." "Accepted," Tigh chuckled, "Are you all okay?" "Not everybody, I'm afraid," he said. "There's eight people injured, and Princess Alpha is unconscious." "How serious is her condition?" "I'm not a doctor..." "Is she dead?" "No, Colonel. She's still breathing. My guess is that she passed out from the smoke." "Okay. I'll have the rescue team leave to get to you right now. They'll be coming through the corridor on the other side of you. As soon as it's repressurized, you'll go that way to the auxiliary turbo-lift and take it down to Delta Deck. We'll keep this line open and report on their progress to you." "Okay, Colonel, I know we'll feel a lot better knowing what's going on," Boomer said as he motioned the now-anxious and enthusiastic crowd to be silent, "What exactly happened to us, anyway?" "It seems like such a long time ago, Boomer," the executive officer sighed, "Two Cylon fighters packed with solonite rammed us. We took a lot of damage up here on the bridge too." "Is everyone else okay?" "Everyone's fine. In the meantime, I'll let you talk to Apollo." There was a muffle on the other end, as Tigh handed over his headset. "Boomer?" "Apollo," Boomer smiled and motioned to an exhilarated Boxey and Athena, "Good to hear your voice again." "Not half as much as it's good to hear yours." "Well I might as well let you talk to a couple people you're more anxious to hear," he handed the telecom to Athena. "Apollo?" her voice was trembling. "Athena," her brother sighed in relief, "Thank God." "Is everything stable up there?" "It's getting there," he said, "About the only bad thing that could happen now would be that basestar suddenly showing up, but it doesn't look as if that's going to happen." "Can I talk to Father?" Athena pressed the telecom tighter against her ear. "I'm afraid not," Apollo said as quickly as he could, "He took some bad injuries." "How bad?" she cut in with alarm. "He had to undergo surgery, but fortunately the operation was a success," he said with as much hasty reassurance as he could, "I just talked to him in the Life Station. Dr. Salik's prognosis is good." His sister paused for a brief instant. "You are being candid with me, aren't you?" "Athena," Apollo said pointedly, "There isn't a single person on this ship who hasn't been candid about anything since this whole thing started." "I'm sure of that," she nodded and relaxed, "I'll put Boxey on." She then handed the telecom to Boxey, who was already reaching his hands up in anticipation from the instant Boomer had mentioned his father's name. "Dad?" Boxey asked with his usual level of enthusiasm. "Boxey," Apollo sighed in delight at the sound of his son's voice, "You don't know how much I've worried about you." "You didn't have to," he almost seemed to chide him, "Muffy and me just did what Boomer told us to do." "That's being a good little warrior," there was obvious pride in Apollo's tone, "I heard all about what Muffy did." "Boomer says he'll get a medal." "He sure will," Apollo smiled, "And you're going to get one, too." "Are you be coming to get us, Dad?" "No, I'm afraid I can't be there when they open the door up, Boxey," he said gently, "But I'll be waiting on Delta Deck when you all take the turbo-lift down. I'm really looking forward to seeing you and Muffy again." "I've missed you, Dad," for the first time, Boxey's voice seemed to break just a little bit. "I've missed you, too," his father replied tenderly, "But we'll see each other soon. Now you put Boomer back on, and I'll talk to you later. I love you, son." "I love you, Dad," the little boy then handed the telecom back to Boomer. "I can't thank you enough for bringing them through this, Boomer," Apollo said with genuine emotion, "I owe you a lot." "I'm glad to know I made up for missing the battle," Boomer remained casual, "How soon until we can expect that help?" "At least a centar, Boomer," he said, "I'll stay on the line and report the progress." "Do that. And in the meantime, start filling me in on everything else I've missed." "You don't know how lucky you are to have missed it," Apollo sighed as he started from the beginning. ***** Shaddrack had arrived in the airlock to hatch number thirteen, where a team of ten other Maintenance workers were already waiting with their EVA suits and helmets on. Eight of them held hefty, cumbersome photosealer modules that were specially designed for sealing breaches in the battlestar's hull. Another was standing by with the portable repressurization unit, while the tenth had several low level charges attached to his suit in case the door needed to be blown. Unlike Apollo and Starbuck, the heavy equipment they were carrying meant they would be forced to use their tether lines. "Which one is it going to be, sir?" crewman Gousy, the most experienced photosealer module laser operator asked. "The bigger one above the auxiliary turbo," the Master-Tech locked his helmet into place. Gousy immediately groaned, "That's going to take every one of these modules." "We don't have a choice," Shaddrack activated the switch that started the depressurization procedure inside the airlock, and then turned to the two crewman with the other items of equipment, "Sipp, Terum, listen carefully. Since your job's going to be done on the inside, you two will go first and get yourself in. Stand-by outside the door to the storage compartment until we signal you that the hull's been sealed and is ready for repressurizing." "What about our tether lines, sir?" Sipp, the crewman with the repressurization unit asked. "Cut 'em loose the micron you're inside," Shaddrack answered. "You'll be leaving through the turbo-lift with all of them once the area's repressured." A loud pop indicated that the depressurization was finished. Shaddrack then hit the switch that opened the external hatch. As the starry blackness came into view over their heads, each of the crewmen started to slowly rise up and out of the great battlestar. The bulky repressurization unit now felt as light as a feather in Sipp's hands as he went into the lead position and moved down toward the large circular opening in the hull. His partner Terum shook his head in amazement as all of the hull breeches along the side of the ship filled their line of vision. "Take a look at that," he said, "Did you ever see anything uglier in your whole life?" "Remind me to compliment Apollo and Starbuck on the nice mess they made out here," Terum nodded as they drew closer. Since Sipp was unable to hold on to the handrails because of the repressurization unit, Terum had to pull at his foot to drag him down toward the opening. After several centons of slow effort, they finally disappeared from the view of Shadrrack and the other members of the team who would be staying outside the hull. "Let me know when your tether lines are cut, and you're securely in," the Master Tech radioed. "Affirmative," Sipp replied as he looked around and saw the darkened and scorched corridor come into view. There was a slightly ominous quality to the burnt-out surroundings, where only some blinking auxiliary lights along the corridor, and the stars shining through the opening above, reduced the level of blackness. Sipp pulled at his tether line to lower himself to the floor. As soon as his feet touched the bottom, he immediately grabbed hold of Terum's leg, pulling him down to the floor as well. Once they'd moved further down the corridor and away from the line of sight of the major breach, they both detached their tether lines from their suits. The broken straps promptly soared back up and outside the ship. "We're secure inside and detached, sir," Terum radioed as he kept his hands on the unit, so as to keep it close to the floor. "Okay," Shaddrack said, "Give a tap on the compartment door to let them know you're there. We'll get started out here." ***** "Boy, that's a sight I wish I could have seen," Boomer chuckled into the telecom as Apollo continued recounting the events of all that had happened, "You and Starbuck, hand-in-hand, floating off into the starry void." Just then, he was distracted by the sound of a thump from outside the door to the corridor. "Just I micron, Apollo," Boomer said, "I think they've shown up." "You won't be able to talk to them, Boomer," Apollo said, "Just give them one tap back. They'll be standing by out there." Boomer handed the telecom to Athena and made his way to the door where he gave the cold surface a firm rap in response. From the other side, there was another brief series of taps which Boomer recognized as the standard Colonial code signal of acknowledgment. "Okay," Boomer said as he took the telecom back, "They're ready, they know we're ready, now how about those guys out there getting ready, so we can get the frack out of here?" "The photosealer modules should be starting now." ***** "Activate modules now!" Shaddrack signaled. Gousy and the seven other workers hit the switches of their modules. Instantly, beams of laser light emerged that would instantly bond the subatomic particles surrounding the hole, compressing them into a metal, thereby creating a surrogate skin that would seal the hull breaches. But because the lenses projecting the beams were only an three mili-metrons wide, sealing a hole more than ten maxims in diameter could only be a time-consuming process that would take the effort of all of the available modules. Another tense period of waiting had begun. ***** Starbuck had changed back into his regular uniform, and had gone back to the bridge to check on the situation. When he arrived he saw Apollo seated at the console, while Tigh and Bennann stood off to one side behind him. "How's it going?" Starbuck asked, as he came over. "They're starting on the hull breach above the corridor," Apollo said, "The other men in the team are inside but they can't do anything until that hole is sealed completely." "How long will that take?" Apollo looked over at the executive officer, who shrugged. "At the rate they're going, at least a centar," Tigh said, "The beams are already at full intensity, so they can't go any faster." "You should compose a memorandum for Wilker," Starbuck settled next to his friend, "Start building a better, faster photosealer module." "Just be glad these kinds exist," Apollo said, "Twenty yahrens ago, it still took a sectan to do this kind of job, welding scrap metal plates together for a temporary fix until you made it to the nearest space dock in the colonies." "I always thought you were the guy who hated technological innovation," Starbuck gave him a nudge. "I just placed a moratorium on that for today," he removed his headset and handed it to his friend, "Here, talk to Boomer." As Starbuck slipped it on and began talking to his friend, Apollo warily got up to move about and stretch his legs. ***** The sense of boredom and restlessness that had affected both those in the storage compartment and on the bridge had now spread to the two crewmen waiting outside the storage compartment. The weightless sensation was somewhat less pronounced inside the Galactica than it had been outside, but even so, Terum had to keep his hands firmly clamped on the repressurization unit to keep it from drifting away. "Lords of Kobol, I am bored," Terum finally said aloud. "You're ain't the only one," Sipp lifted his arm to check the illuminated chronometer strapped to his wrist, "Thirty centons, we've been in here." Sipp then looked above to the hole that was being slowly sealed shut. At this point it was now one-half the size it had been when they had entered through it. He caught sight of Gousy leaning over the edge and waving down to him. He absently waved back and then made an impatient motion to keep moving. "Let's try to kill some time," Terum said, "I heard a pretty funny story the other day in the turbo wash." "Go ahead," Sipp said dryly, "But just remember that Shaddrack is still listening in on everything we say. Isn't that right, sir?" he looked up and added. "Correct Sipp," the Master Tech''s voice piped through their helmets, "How does that story go, Terum?" The younger crewman blushed in embarrassment, "Ah, I just remembered, sir, it's not so funny after all." Shaddrack let out a minute chuckle, "Hang tight men. We're halfway there." The two crewmen then went back to their impatient, bored silence. A silence that for the next ten centons was punctuated only by their breathing. But then another sound, a strange one entirely, suddenly became evident to the two of them. "What's that?" Terum frowned. "I don't know but it sounds like it's coming from inside here," Sipp turned around, "Towards that turbo lift." They cautiously made their way forward, when all of a sudden, the grinding noise became a roar and the walls and ceiling in front of the turbo lift doors suddenly buckled in front of them. "Terum? Sipp?" Shaddrack shouted, "What's going on in there?" The two technicians looked at the scene in stunned shock. "Terum? Sipp?" the Master Tech shouted again, "Respond!" The more experienced Sipp decided to answer first. "Sir," there was a heavy air of dejection in his voice, "The bulkhead ceiling and wall in front of the turbo-lift just caved in. I think it must have been a delayed reaction to the force of the explosion." The silence on the other end indicated Shaddrack's stunned reaction. "And I'm afraid sir, that there is no way that anyone could gain access to that turbo-lift," Sipp went on, "This avenue of exit is now officially a dead-end." ***** Once the information was relayed to the bridge, the level of shock was even greater. "Can't you use the charges you've got to clear away the debris?" Tigh demanded. "Negative," Shaddrack replied over an intercom link that made his words audible to everyone on the bridge, "It'd take one medium-level charge which he doesn't have or both of the low-level ones. And if you do that, there's nothing left to blow away the storage compartment door." "Frack!" Apollo slammed his fist against the console table. His inner feelings could no longer be contained this time, "Shaddrack, they've just switched to their second masks, we've only got a centar left!" "I'm aware of their situation, Captain," the Master Tech retorted, "But right now, there's not much we can do in the next centar." "That's unacceptable, Shaddrack," Tigh's displeasure was all too clear, "You've got to come up with something now. Now what about switching to the other possible avenue of escape we considered?" "Colonel, we barely have enough time to seal that area up, but you're forgetting something. We wouldn't have a team inside to repressurize that area." "What are you talking about?" Apollo jumped back in and demanded, "Just get Sipp and Terum over to the other zone!" "We can't get them to there," Shaddrack retorted sharply, "The hole we were already sealing is now too small for them to get out of. That means we don't have anyone with a repressurization unit, or an explosive charge for the door to get into that secondary area in the Rejuvenation Center!" "Can't you send two more men out to join you?" Apollo refused to let any possible stone go unturned. "No, because we wouldn't be able to start sealing until they were both inside, and by the time they'd get here, we'd never have the breach sealed in time." Grave expressions came over all of the people on the bridge. Tigh finally drew himself up to his firmest posture of the day, "Then there's only one solution, Shaddrack" he said, "Start sealing the secondary zone. Tarum and Sipp will have to find a way to the Rejuvenation Center from the inside." "They're on the other side of it, Colonel!" Shaddrack protested, "There's no way they could get there without exposing the people trapped to vacuum caused by two breaches." "Let us worry about that, Shaddrack," Tigh said, "In the meantime, take care of the one you can handle." "Yes sir," he sighed in exasperation, "Starting immediately." Tigh then switched on the computer displaying the Galactica blueprints. Apollo, Starbuck, and Bennan all came over and looked at it intently. Too intently for them to say anything aloud. All of them were trying to form solutions for getting the two crewman out of what seemed like an incomprehensible maze. The Chief Firefighter was the first to notice something. "Colonel, I think there is a way," Bennann said, "The corridor the two crewmen are on leads back the other way to another compartment door two hundred feet away. That compartment is a throughway to the main corridor of Alpha Deck where the Rejuvenation Center is." "I see it, Bennann," Tigh said, "But they'd have to blow two doors to get there. Not only would they be co-mingling the two hull breach areas, they'd use up both their charges and have nothing for the storage compartment door." "But if they were able to safely open just one of those doors sir, and close it behind them, then both dangers would be eliminated." "Bennann," Tigh said, "Most of the doors in that area were jammed when the Cylon fighter rammed us." "Most of them, but not all," once again, a note of cautious exhilaration came back to Apollo's voice, "Sergeant Kulanda, the guard who tried to rescue them earlier. He'd been trapped in the storage compartment down the main corridor from the Rejuvenation Center. If his door could open, so could one of these." "Then you're asking us to stake all their lives on a hope and a desperate gamble," Tigh said pointedly, "That works when you're playing pyramid, but it's inadvisable to use that when people's lives are at stake." "We don't have any other option, Colonel," Apollo retorted. Before Tigh could answer, Bennann jumped back in, "He's right, sir. That's the only access route they can take to be in a position to save them." The executive officer then cast a glance at Omega. "Omega," he called over to the bridge officer, "Do we have computer control for the individual compartment doors back?" "No sir," Omega shook his head, "That's going to take more than a day to get back on-line. We haven't been giving that priority on the repair list." Tigh slowly exhaled and drew himself up, "It would seem then, that the situation that confronted us when we had to put out the fire has reached us again. Very well, we'll do it. Apollo, notify Boomer and bring him up-to-date. I'll relay all of this to Shaddrack, since he's the only one in touch with Sipp and Terum." And with the stunned shock now past, the air of nervous tension had returned to the bridge again. ***** Boomer was more than ten centons into the use of his second oxygen mask, and was beginning to feel his impatience starting to be replaced just slightly with the sense of concern and danger that had filled him and everyone else in the room before the fire had been put out. When is this going to end? he found himself raging in silence. The concern had also reentered Athena's voice, "Boomer, why have they stopped talking to us?" "I wish I knew," he said as he looked at the telecom in his hand that had been silent for the last several centons, "But whatever it is, it can't be good." "Boomer? You there" Apollo's voice then came through. "About time I heard from you guys again," he said as he put it back to his ear, "What's happening out there?" "Boomer," Apollo said gently, "Hook this up so everyone in the room can hear me. I think I can explain it a lot better than you're going to be able to." "Okay," he nodded and went over to the wall unit and made the adjustment. Several centons later, the edge of terror had returned to the entire room again. ***** Since the cave-in, Sipp and Terum had stayed in position, waiting with seething frustration for what their next set of instructions was going to be. "Isn't this fracking lovely," the younger, more hot-tempered Terum was trying mightily to keep himself under control, "Standing in a corridor filled with vacuum, totally cut-off and nothing to do, while twenty people just ten feet away from us suffocate." "Calm down," Sipp said gently, "Save your rage only for if this thing fails completely and it's all over." "You mean it's not over already?" Terum bitterly retorted. "No. Not yet," Shaddrack's voice suddenly came through, "They've just come up with a back-up plan to get the two of you into the secondary zone which we're working on sealing, right now." "We're listening," Cygnus said with anxious anticipation. "Make your way back down the corridor, and look for the compartment door that leads to the throughway between that corridor and the main corridor. And take the repressurization unit with you." "Affirmative," Sipp switched on his beacon light so that it shined down the length of the dark and blackened corridor. Through the weightless environment of the vacuum, the two of them literally hopped their way forward as far as their individual steps could take them. A centon later, Sipp shined his light on a compartment door located on the side. Despite the scorch marks, the words, "THROUGHWAY TO MAIN CORRIDOR," were still legible. "Okay sir," Sipp reported, "We've reached the door." "Good," the Master Tech kept the tension he felt submerged, "Now to try to open it manually from the control panel." Sipp shined his light on the intact panel. He carefully made several adjustments and finally pressed the appropriate buttons. But nothing happened. Sipp said nothing and made a quick readjustment. Still nothing. "Sir, the door is jammed," he finally spoke, "We'll have to use one charge to blow it." "All right," Shaddrack's voice seemed to sag, "Do it. But I have to tell you this, right now. If the other door leading to the main corridor is also jammed, then that's it. The whole triad game is over. Blowing both doors means we'd have to seal both breach areas in order to get them out safely and we simply don't have enough time to do that." "We understand sir," Sipp nodded and calmly removed one of the low-level charges attached to his EVA suit. He then motioned to Terum to back away with the unit, and then the two of them bid a hasty retreat in the zero-g environment down the corridor as they waited for the charge to blow. ***** "The first door was jammed," Tigh said quietly, "They already had to blow it open. We should know about the second door any micron now." A hush came over the other three people gathered there. Apollo was biting his lip in nervous frustration. "If the other door is jammed, Colonel," Starbuck struggled to find one last possible ray of hope, "Then couldn't they get through the way Boomer got everyone in to the Storage Compartment? Hot-wire the door somehow?" "Theoretically they could do it," Apollo said glumly, "But it took Forger fifteen centons to do it, and he wasn't operating in total darkness with only a small flashlight, while wearing a space suit in zero-g. By the time they could get through that way, there'd be no one left to save." No one said anything for a long minute. All over the bridge, the silence had become deafening. The executive officer finally broke it, "It's come down to the last desperate play," he said quietly, "And where it leads to, only God knows." Apollo calmly adjusted the telecom, "Boomer," he said, "Stand-by. We'll know in another micron." ***** Inside the compartment, the level of fear and tension was at the highest level it had been all day. The terror was so great, that no one dared say a word. Boxey had wrapped himself around his aunt's waist as tightly as he could. There were no tears or any crying from the little boy, but Athena could literally feel his body shaking against hers. Alpha coughed a little bit, writhing as if returning to consciousness, but she stopped moving and returned to her comatose state. Boomer reached out to Athena and gently squeezed her hand in a show of support. And then, as if on impulse, Athena suddenly leaned forward, lifted her mask up for a brief instant, and kissed Boomer on the cheek. "For good fortune?" he smiled at her. "For good fortune," she whispered and smiled back. ***** Slowly, Sipp made his way through the gaping hole of the door they had blasted open. The throughway stretched more than thirty feet across to the critical compartment door on the other side that led to the main corridor. The door seemed to exude a menacing aura as the two crewmen drew closer to it. And indeed, it was clear to both Sipp and Terum that the door was menacing. For it alone, held the key as to whether twenty people would live or die. Sipp took a breath and let out a silent prayer of anguish to the God he'd always worshipped as to why this terrible responsibility of being the first one to know was falling on him. Then he realized that he was being selfish for focusing on that. His prayer could only be one that the door would open. Again, he shined his light on the intact control panel. Again, he made several adjustments. Again, he finally pressed the buttons that would reveal the terrible secret so many were waiting to know. Again, nothing happened. Behind him, Terum's nervous breathing grew more and more heavy. The young crewman almost felt on the verge of hyperventilating. But Sipp knew he still had one more gambit to play with on the control panel. And without saying anything, he once again made another adjustment. And once again, he pressed the appropriate buttons. A rumbling sound suddenly emitted, and was then accompanied by the sight of the compartment door sliding open. Sipp's calm exterior suddenly exploded into intense jubilation, "It's workin'!" he shouted, "The beautiful thing just opened!" ***** "They did it!" Shadrach's words that had been relayed to him, echoed through the bridge. A sudden cheer went up, but Apollo promptly held up his hand, and the sight of that was enough to cause the cheer to stop before it was finished. "It won't mean felgercarb if they can't close it," he quietly pointed out, "I'm not telling them a thing until we know that." Like an on/off switch, the tension that had briefly gone, immediately came back. "Shaddrack," Tigh calmly radioed, "Let's wait until the door is closed before we get excited." You're right sir," the Master Tech sounded embarrassed, "Sorry." "How's your job coming along?" "Better than I expected," Shaddrack said, "We should have made the plan of attack from here right at the outset." Apollo visibly flinched when he heard that remark, while Starbuck shook his head in disbelief. "If that door doesn't close," Starbuck said under his breath with contempt, "Then that last remark of his is going to be his epitaph." ***** Sipp went through the doorway out into the main corridor. "All right," he motioned at Terum, "Get that thing through here." With the repressurization unit securely in his right hand, the young crewman made his way down through the passageway and came through the opening into the corridor alongside Sipp. His senior colleague then went back to the control panel on the other side. And then, Sipp let out a triumphant whoop characteristic of Sagitaran natives as the compartment door slid shut. ***** When the word came through from Shaddrack, another loud cheer went up on the bridge. And this time, the cheer was allowed to sustain itself. Tigh pumped his fist into the air in excitement. But Apollo didn't bother to join in the merriment. He simply smiled then carefully repeated the glorious words into his headset, "The compartment door is shut!" Behind him, he felt Bennann's hand patting his shoulder. He turned around and saw the Chief Firefighter smiling in triumph at him. "The worst is over," Bennann said, "I'm glad I stuck around to see them make it safely." Apollo got to his feet and looked at him with a great deal of admiration, respect and empathy. "Bennann," he extended his hand, "I want to thank you for everything. It was an honor to work with you, and all of your brave men. And I'll never forget the help you just gave us." "It was an honor to work with you, Captain," Bennann took it, "For the first time, I think I finally know why the Lord in his wisdom decided that I was going to live through this." And then the Chief Firefighter slowly turned away and quietly left the bridge. ***** Inside the storage compartment, there was also a wild cheer of exhilaration for the first time. Boomer and Athena hugged each other and then Boxey. Even Muffit joined in the merriment by jumping on to the three of them. Even though the last phase in their confinement had not yet arrived, there was now a sense that at long last, things were finally, truly over. ***** From there, events seemed to move much more swiftly. After another wait of ten centons, the team outside the hull led by Gousy finished sealing the lengthy and narrow breach running along the hull above the main corridor. Shaddrack then gave the signal, and Terum activated the repressurization unit. Within another three centons, pressure had been restored to the main corridor. There was still no flow of oxygen to the area, but it was now safe for people with masks to go through the area without pressure suits. Terum and Sipp made their way through the burned-out ruins of the Rejuvenation Center over to the storage compartment door. A firm pounding from Terum gave the signal to all the people inside that it was time to prepare for the explosive charge that would blow the door open and free them. Microns later, the door that had served as their bulwark of safety had been blown open. One at a time, they all emerged, still wearing their lifemasks. The injured, Alpha among them, were carried out first, followed by the rest. Boomer was the last to emerge. As they filed out, he cast a glance at the gutted game equipment strewn about the ruined room. At one end, he could see the table Boxey and Athena had been playing at when he'd first entered the room in what seemed like an eternity ago, but had in fact only been a little more than four centars. "Well Boxey," he leaned down to the little boy, "Looks like it's gonna be a while before we finally have that game of compartment billyarks I'd promised you." They stepped out into the corridor where Terum had activated the turbo-lift at the other end. When the doors were opened, the eight injured people were loaded in for the first trip down to Delta Deck. It took another centon for the lift to come back up. When it opened again, the rest of the group, including Boomer, Athena, Boxey and a barking Muffit got on board. When the doors closed, they finally, gratefully removed their masks and were able to breathe normally again. The first thing they saw when the door opened three decks down was the outstretched arms of Apollo happily waiting to greet them. He embraced his sister first, and then took his son in his arms, kissing him with all the fatherly kindheartedness he felt able to summon. He then set Boxey down and looked at Boomer, who stood in the lift doorway with a thoroughly stoic expression. "Boomer," for the first time there were tears in Apollo's eyes as he reached out and shook his friend's hand, "You pulled them all through. Thank you." "Yeah well," Boomer remained stoic as he warmly reciprocated the handshake, "I had a lot of help from a lot of good people." "We all pulled each other through, Apollo," Athena said, "All of us who saved this ship. There are a lot of people who deserve some high honors." "I know," Apollo smiled, "Boomer, Bennann, so many others," he then paused slightly to reflect, "Especially a couple of firemen named Hardall and Dion." "Not to mention you and Starbuck," his sister added. "And Muffy!" Boxey suddenly chimed in. The three of them laughed as they looked down and saw Boxey proudly petting his beloved daggit. "You're so right, Boxey," Apollo picked his son up again, "Now in the meantime, what's say we all go up to the Life Station and say hello to your grandfather, who I know is very anxious to see all of you?" And with that, the four of them set off down the corridor for the turbo-lift that would take them there. ***** Chapter Thirty-Three: The Calm After The Storm For well over several centars, Baltar had nervously paced back and forth in front of his throne chair, awaiting news of what had become for him, desperation rather than his usual self-centered swagger and confidence controlling all of his actions. Finally, the doors to the command center opened and Lucifer glided into the room. "Well?" Baltar's annoyance was so great that he didn't bother to wait for that wearying 'By your command.' "Our special assault patrol reports that there were two direct hits on the Galactica," the IL Cylon said, "One to the bridge and one to the landing bay." "Has she been destroyed?" the impatience in the human traitor's voice only grew. Lucifer paused for that brief instant that always succeeded in unnerving Baltar. "Not exactly..." the IL Cylon started. "Will you come to the point?!" Baltar raged. "The rest of our fighters were destroyed before the Galactica's destruction could be confirmed." Baltar slump down into his throne, "We have no fighters left in our arsenal now?" "Such a result was to be expected when you chose to have all of them loaded with solonite," Lucifer's tone was matter-of-fact, "If it turns out that the Galactica has survived, then a new assault will be impossible for the foreseeable future." Just then, a centurion came up to them, "By your command." "Speak," Baltar waved his hand in irritation. "Our long-range communications monitors have picked up the inter-fleet messages of the Colonial ships. They indicate that the Galactica has survived and is underway again." Baltar dug his fingers into the side of his throne chair. "Do you have any new ideas, Baltar?" Lucifer allowed only a hint of sarcasm to enter his voice. "Later," he waved his hand, "Leave me for now." "Shall I contact the Imperious Leader on the homeworld to apprize him of the situation?" "I said leave me for now, Lucifer," Baltar raised his voice. The IL Cylon felt that he'd attained enough inner satisfaction from seeing Baltar in this position, "By your command," he bowed and departed. ***** Starbuck's fumarello was dead. He let it stay that way. "That's not a good news face you're wearing," Starbuck said when he caught up with Apollo in the Life Station. "Well, old buddy..." Starbuck grabbed his friend's arm. "Don't hold anything back," he said. "Boomer said Alpha was unconscious," he said. "Is she here in the Life Station?" Apollo gave a slow nod. "She's undergoing treatment right now." "But..." Starbuck clenched his fists, getting himself under control. "But she's going to make it, right?" "Last I heard the docs were optimistic." "Fine," said Starbuck. "I'm going to see her now." Salik's staff may not let you into---" "Oh, yeah, they'll let me," Starbuck assured him. "Because the mood I'm in, I don't think anybody's going to risk trying to stop me." ***** Whitness all around her. Alpha took a deep breath and air filled her lungs. "I'm alive, right?" she said to nobody in particular. "That you are, very much so," said Cassiopeia, who was standing beside the lifepod she found herself in. She poked at herself through the white coverlet. "My clothes! I say! What's happened to my bloomin' clothes!" "Standard procedure," Cassiopeia explained. "But...I looked so damn nice in those ruddy things." "You'll be getting them back." "How soon?" "We don't expect you to be here too long." "What happened to me in the Rejuvenation Center?" "Nothing we couldn't take care of. Smoke inhalation. Dr. Salik and Dr. Paye cleared your lungs." "What about Forger?" "The fellow who opened the door?" "Good, he did it then?" "Yes, and everyone got into the storage room just before the fire blew the door off." Alpha nodded to herself, pleased. "That's good news," she said. "But I'm unhappy about passing out. I hope the word on that doesn't get around." The med-tech smiled. "Sorry, but it already has," she informed her. "Just about everyone knows about how you got the fellow to open the door, and helped Boomer and Athena to keep the others calm." "Sure, I'm sharing the limelight with those two." "I hope so," Cassiopeia said. "Oh, and I'm now going to violate the rules." "How?" she eyed the blonde med-tech. "I'm going to allow you a visitor. For a short while anyway," he said. "Then I want you to rest. We've got a few more tests to run later on." "Is this visitor who I think it is?" "Exactly," said Cassiopeia. "Who else but Starbuck could walk his way in here at a time like this?" Crossing to a white door, she opened it. "Come in, Lieutenant. And try to control your usual exuberance." She left the room. Starbuck made a very subdued entrance and came over to the bedside. "Hi," he said. "Hi," she said. ***** Starbuck studied himself in his bathroom mirror. "No wonder I'm the idol of millions," he remarked. "Adored throughout the universe." "Spare me," requested Apollo, who was slouched in a comfortable chair. "I merely state the truth." "Oh, I wasn't aware that any of what you've been babbling was the truth." "You have to make an effort to keep up with the latest news." The lieutenant gave his blonde hair a final touch with the brush. "Well, even though it's painful to listen to this," said Apollo, "I'm glad to see you're no longer sunk in gloom." "Nope, I'm bubbling over with good feelings." He smoothed a sleeve, patted a crease in his trousers. "After all, we've saved the Galactica and spooked the Cylons out of this neck of the universe." "For now, anyway." "And that means the colony on Destructon is going to have a chance to prosper." "True." "And repairs and refurbishments on the Galactica are under way even as we speak," he said. "Everything is going to be shipshape once more." "My father is back on duty and Alpha was released from the Life Station." "That too," said Starbuck. "But let's remember to call her Caeljumbe." "Caeljumbe," Apollo watched him in silence for a moment. "We're dining on the Rising Star tonight, at the Commander's reserved table. And it's on you." "We are. Hense all this duding up of myself. "Didn't think you could afford that." "Interesting that you should say that. Recently, I was able to borrow just sufficient funds to finance an evening of---" "Did you take some kind of commission on that Ambrosa that Assault and the others brought here with them from Destructon?" Shaking his head, Starbuck pressed a hand to his chest. "I didn't take part in any of the negotiations betwixt Assault and our quartermasters," he said. "Of course, if I hadn't pointed out to Assault that their Ambrosa was so gallmonging valuable, they might've left it piled up on the Destructon docks. Right?" "So you did collect something?" Starbuck spread his hands wide. "I was given, chum, what is known as an honorarium." "That's one name for it." "A polite one, at that." Apollo strectched up out of the chair, shaking his head and grinning. "Well, here's hoping nobody chokes on dinner this evening." "Don't worry. Everybody's gonna get through the whole darn meal. I'll see to that." ***** As Adama sat at the head of his own reserved table in the Rising Star's Main Dining Hall, he could already tell that none of the new arrivals had had any difficulty adjusting to their new lives within the refugee Fleet. "Princess Alpha, or should I say Caeljumbe," Adama lifted his chalice, "Since this is my first real opportunity to dine with a member of our new Destructonese community, may I say on behalf of everyone in the Fleet, what a pleasure it is to have you among us." "Bless you, Commander," Alpha. Her hair was once again done up in a Sixth Millenium bouffant and she was handsomely dressed in a daring evening gown. "It's an honor." "A toast to our new guests, and also our gratitude to the Lords that we survived this difficult timey," Adama said, "Even though Lieutenant Starbuck's final report raised a few questions regarding his conduct that led to the temporary loss of Recon Viper One." Starbuck smiled sheepishly. He already received the tongue-lashing from Colonel Tigh that centon before the Cylon suicide attack on the Galactica, so he knew the Commander was being good-natured about the whole thing. "Well Commander, if you'd had a chance for some five hundred yahren old ambrosia, you would have dropped your guard too." "I thought I'd put that theory to the test," Adama took a sip, "I was wondering if our expert would render his opinion of our own supply of ambrosia." Alpha took a sip and then winced, "Ugh. Commander, is this is the best you have to offer?" "I'm afraid so," the Commander sighed and then signaled for Zumdish. "Yesh shir?" the Chief Steward pleasantly inquired. "Mr. Zumdish, I was wondering how much one bottle of that ambrosa from Destructon would cost us?" Zumdish didn't bat an eye, "The go-eeng rate eesh two thoushand cu-beetch, Commander. Though an ek-shep-shun mosht shertainly weel be granteed een your eenstanch." "Only for this one occasion," Adama held up a finger, "Never let it be said that I abuse the privilege of my rank." "Two thousand," Starbuck sadly shook his head as Zumdish walked away, "At that price, I could have a thousand cases of the stuff for myself to sell." "Oh come on, Starbuck," Cassiopeia, who was seated on his left needled, "What would you do with all that money anyway? Lose it all at Pyramid in the Chancery?" "Or extra tip money for Zumdish?" Athena, who was seated on his right, added. Both women had agreed that for this one occasion, both of them should be present. "Hey, I do think big you know," Starbuck said, determined to not play any favorites this evening and just enjoy both of their company if he could. "There are plenty of ways a person can occupy himself with an extra stash. Like maybe bribing a fellow pilot to let me take the next Recon Viper One mission. With all due respect, Commander, I've become awfully fond of C.O.R.A and---" "I'm sorry, Starbuck, but after reading your report on what happened, I've decided to halt further development of the program and just go back to having regular patrols of two vipers do our investigating from now on. Until Wilker comes up with a new way to have all that extra speed without leaving a viper unarmed, the risk factor is simply too great." He then looked back at Alpha. "And you, young lady, demonstrated how unreliable the C.O.R.A. system is, since it will react to whoever is inside the cockpit and that means anyone representing a hostile force could commandeer such a viper with little or no flying skill. That's not good for our security." "Commander...you're absolutely right," Starbuck said. "I wouldn't want to fly with an unfaithful woman as my co-pilot." Apollo belted out a vigorous hoot. "I'll bet Wilker went to pieces when you told him you were scrapping the program." Adama smiled at his son. "He wasn't very happy with my decision, but Dr. Wilker, I think, is big enough just to move on to other projects and realize that not everything he creates will be a feather in his cap." He then smiled at Boxey, who was seated in-between his father and grandfather. "After all, Boxey knows that Dr. Wilker could never outdo himself after building Muffit." "Damn well said, father!" Apollo said as he patted his son on the head and then reached over to pat the robot daggit's head. Zumdish returned with the Destructonese bottle of ambrosa and poured some into new chalices. Adama slowly took a sip, and when his tongue tasted the liquid, his eyes widened in amazement. "Starbuck," Adama said as he sat his chalice down, "You have just proved your point that any man would have been distracted by the thought of having so much of this." "Thank you, sir," Starbuck said. "Well now that we've experienced the pleasure of dining with new friends, and sampling the fruits of their labors, it's now time for the other special occasion of this evening. Apollo, Boxey has something for you that he's worked very hard on." A beaming Boxey handed his father a parchment scroll. When Apollo unfurled it, he saw that it was a very well-done child's drawing of a star map, depicting a solar system. "Why...that's beautiful, son," Apollo said with pride as he studied it. He then handed it across the table to Boomer, "Here take a look." "Why the sudden interest in drawing maps, Boxey?" Starbuck asked, "Going to become an astro-navigator?" "Nope," Boxey said, "A viper pilot like my father." Boomer had now passed the map to Athena, who was also looking proud. "It's very well done, Boxey. Here, Starbuck. Take a look." Starbuck took one look and then after just a few micron's study nodded his head, "Yeah, it is good, Boxey. Except you've got the third planet in the wrong orbital path and there should be a big red spot on the fifth planet." Adama suddenly frowned, "How do you know that?" The blonde warrior shrugged, "I don't know, I---" he then snapped his fingers, "Wait a centon, I remember now. My cell on Destructon was covered with all kinds of drawings, the back wall had a big chart that looked exactly like this solar system and--good Kobol---there was even some writing: 'Hapgood was here!'" "Were you in the cell in the back end of the cell block?" Alpha interjected. "Yeah," Starbuck nodded, "Does this name Hapgood mean anything to you? A friend of yours, maybe?" "I'd have to be two hundred yahrens old to have known the one who drew those pictures," the ex-prisoner said. "He was long, long before my time. According to my mother, they called him the Mad Hatter." Adama's eyes narrowed in disbelief, "Where did he come from?" Alpha said, "He claimed to be from the planet Earth, but I don't really know--and no one ever found out the truth of his origins. My mother said that he was found one day by the Troopers drifting in some strange craft all alone in space. He talked to them, tried explain who he was, but he didn't make any sense. The Troopers jailed him for an offense of vagrancy and likely pirating." "What did he look like?" Apollo asked. Alpha thought about it. "My mother said he looked very handsome in that costume he wore. It was some strange kind of...kind of like a flight suit, silver with funny patches on the front, and this strange emblem on the side." "Emblem," Starbuck said, "Some...rectangle with a blue corner and a bunch of stripes?" "Why yes," Alpha nodded, "Yes. And after a while, he stopped talking and started drawing that on the wall. Not only that, but...all kinds of images of towns and cities that had the funniest looking buildings you ever saw in your life. Plus his name... Well... actually... he had two names... 'Jimmy' and 'Hapgood.' " "I know," Starbuck was fascinated, "I saw those too." "Why was he called the Mad Hatter?" Athena asked. "Because he wore a filthy straw hat, like the kind an oviner or cattleman might wear. And that he kept raving about strange places like 'Houston,' 'Texas,' and one of his gods, 'Usa.'" Alpha went on, "My mother said that...he seemed like he was perfectly sane, it was just that he didn't understand Colonial Standard or Colonial folkways. What's more...he eventually got this faraway look on his face as though he was...well in some state of shock or disbelief." She idly rolled her chalice of ambrosia. "He was in that cell for about...oh, fifteen yahrens I think, and just wasted his time drawing those pictures and that chart on the back wall. And, one day, the guards found him dead in the cell. He'd hanged himself by the neck with a noose made from blankets and sheets.." "Strange," Starbuck said, "But...this map Boxey drew. It must be the system 'Jimmy Hapgood' came from. Which one is is it?" Adama had an incredulous look on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was a mixture of awe and amazement. "This...map that I taught Boxey how to draw, is based on a description of a solar system mentioned in The Facts of the All Seeing Primal." Apollo's ears perked up, as did Athena's, Boomer's and Cassiopeia's. In an instant, things began to fall into place. "The addendum to the Book of the Word that describes the solar system first charted by the exploratory probes sent out from Kobol, and ultimately settled by the Thirteenth Tribe," Adama went on, "On the third planet in the system called Earth." It was a long time before anyone else at the dinner table found the strength to say anything. The silence was finally broken by an announcement from the Main Dinining Hall's central voxbox. "Commander Adama. Attention Commander Adama. Return to Battlestar Galactica at once. Commander Adama, please contact Agroship Chief Operations officer Jotridus in your quarters. Priority yellow." ***** Chapter Thirty-Four: The Aftercrisis Before the Holocaust, Jotridus' forty yahren career as an expert in farming and agro science had culminated with an appointment as Executive Agricultural Planner in the Gemonese civil government. Because he was the highest expert in the field to survive the disaster, his appointment as head of operations aboard the Agroship had been one of the easiest decisions Adama had ever made. "Colonel Tigh asked me to report to you, sir," he said. "Yes, thank you Jotridus," Adama said. "I would like your full report on the damage to the Agroship." "It's really very simple, Commander," Jotridus said, "When we lost the airlock to Agro Dome #1, we lost the entire crop of basic food staples for the entire Fleet. About four sectars worth of food lost in the blink of an eye." "I see," Adama said, "What about the other sections of the Agroship? Hydroponics? Botanical gardens?" "No damage we know about in those sections. But Commander, the loss of our crop presents us with some very serious problems." "Will it affect our immediate ability to feed the people? Are the levels in our storage compartments sufficient to meet demand?" "At this time, yes," the gangly man with blue-black hair set in a long ponytail admitted. "But Commander, we're facing a more grave long-term crisis." "How so?" Adama raised an eyebrow, "We have sufficient stores and alternative resources to compensate for the loss of a single crop, do we not?" "Yes, Commander, but you're making the assumption that we can plant another crop and have it ready for the next harvest cycle." "Are you saying we don't have that capability?" The Operations Chief slowly exhaled, "At this point Commander, Agro Dome #1 couldn't force-grow enough to feed our staff of growers, let alone the people of the Fleet anytime soon." "What will it take to correct that problem?" Adama felt his concern rising. "More growers? More nutrients for the soil? Whatever you need to get another crop flourishing again, I'm sure we can find a way of providing it." Jotridus decided to be blunt, "Can you provide me with new seed, Commander?" Adama frowned. "Did I hear you right? New seed?" "Here's what it all boils down to," the Operations Chief said, "In order to get a new crop started in Agro Dome #1, I need new seed for our staple crops. And because of the destruction of the support ships and the damage sustained to our ship, I don't have any." "But..." Adama was trying to bring to mind his basic education in agro science from long ago, "But how can that be? You have surplus food at your disposal to get us through the next crop, why not draw seed from that?" "It would be a very time-consuming process, Commander, one that would inhibit our ability to properly distribute that surplus when we run into the shortage problem, which we will in due time. Besides, I could never get enough to compensate for what we lost to get a normal healthy crop out of the next harvest." "Very well," things were moving too fast for Adama, "Have you thought about using substitute resources? You said there was no damage to hydroponics or the other experimental areas. And we have an undamaged livestock ship." "Commander," Jotridus said patiently, "What we turn out from hydroponics and the other experimental areas is only meant to supplement the normal diet for the people, not act as a substitute for the basic staples. And as for the livestock ship, in order to keep their animals healthy and fit for human consumption, they need to be fed in part by what we grow among the fundamental crops. Once we wear out our remaining storage excess and start shifting to those other resources, we'll use them up so fast that within a few sectars there'll be almost nothing left to eat in this Fleet at all because we'll be unable to recompense for the increased intake from there to meet the needs of the people." Adama settled back in his chair and shook his head, trying to confront the magnitude of the problem he now faced as Fleet Commander, whose first goal was to meet the basic survival needs of the people he led. "Jotridus," he slowly rubbed his chin in contemplation, "What's the window of opportunity to get new seed to you before any significant problems develop?" "If you can get me new seed within a sectan, Commander, then I could whip our teams of growers into shape to have us meet our deadline for the next harvest cycle before any shortages would likely appear." "You'll get it," Adama said with sudden determination, "No matter what it takes, you'll get exactly what you need before that deadline." ***** For the next several centars, there was nothing but constant activity throughout the Galactica's bridge, as the crewmen on duty had all been ordered by Adama to research every existing Colonial Star Chart file on record in the battlestar's extensive computer data base. Their objective: to find a single planet known to consist of high agricultural resources and report it's existence to Adama immediately. It was early evening when an exhausted Colonel Tigh arrived in Adama's quarters with the news that the search effort had finally paid off. "Commander," the executive officer said, "We've found a hopeful source for new agro-seed. It came from a star chart that's seven hundred yahrens out of date, but I took the liberty of sending ahead a viper patrol to take a long-distance scan to confirm these old records." "Yes?" Adama felt some optimism returning for the first time all day. Tigh set several papers down on the commander's desk. "The planet Arcadis. And there's a small human agro-settlement there." Adama stared at the report. "What else do we have on this planet?" Tigh cleared his throat and recited the data. "Planet Arcadis: Location: Quadrant Alpha, Vector: 9.84742836. Only known established settlement: New Corinth. Date of establishment: unknown, but believed to be at a time when the Colonies felt the Alpha Quadrant, extending out to Gomoray and the Delphian Empire, was totally free from any possible impact from the war with the Cylons." Tigh said. "Adama, after all the studying we did of the old records, we're finding out that the potential for small outposts of human settlement, descended from the Colonies, is higher than we suspected in this section of the galaxy. At least until we start encroaching on the Delphians' territory, whenever that might be and reach the end of charted space." "All right," the commander nodded, "And long-range scan confirms that New Corinth still exists?" "Yes. And long-range scan of what grows on the planet confirms that agro-work is the only thing that could still sustain such a colony after all these hundreds of yahrens." "Then it looks as if we've found our source, and will have to obtain seed from there." Adama put a finger to his lip. "But...to approach this agro community would present some difficulties." "Yes," Tigh nodded, "Given the fact that the Cylons have attacked us three times in the last sectan, we must guard against the possibility that even the humans living there have been able to flourish by cutting some kind of deal with the Alliance. Approach them as Colonial warriors is strictly out of the question." "It certainly is," Adama concurred, "There would be less risk to the Fleet's population and the Galactica if we approached them disguised as denizens of a human settlement from elsewhere in the star system. And the star charts and our scans do confirm that others in proximity to Arcadis still exist as well?" "Yes." "That takes care of that point. Offering them Colonial cubits would not be an adequate form of payment, and would reveal too much to them. If we can assume that cultural practices of the sixth millenium still hold true, then the best way of obtaining new seed from them would be through a trade. Offering something to them that would be of immense use to them." he paused to reflect, "Now what do we have in the Fleet that could be of special value to a agro community such as New Corinth?" Tigh thought about that for a micron, "One thing our viper scan reported was how the power output levels emanating from there are very low. It's logical to assume that an energizer might be a precious article of trade to help increase their overall productivity." Adama nodded, "Yes, you're right. We certainly have our share of energizers here aboard the Galactica, but," he frowned, "I might have to ask our resident expert Tech-Coordinator Gunross about this, but don't our energizers have characteristic serial numbers and markings?" "I'm not sure, but I think that's correct." Tigh realized the meaning of the comment, "I see what you mean. If we have to guard against the possibility of Arcadis having a connection somewhere with the Cylons, then giving them an energizer with our markings would complicate the situation." "One centon, Colonel." Adama leaned over and hit the unicom that would let his voice be heard throughout the battlestar. "Attention. Tech-Coordinator Gunross, report to the nearest telecom unit to contact Commander Adama." It only took thirty microns from the time Adama made the announcement for his telecom unit on the other end of his desk to chime. "T.C. Gunross?" "At your disposal, Commander." the voice of the Galactica's leading expert in the field of engineering and propulsion came through, slightly out of breath. "You caught me just in time. I was about to leave for the Agroship to see if any of her propulsion systems were damaged." "I'll try not to keep you very long. Could you please clarify for me whether the energizers we keep aboard the Galactica have distinctive Colonial markings and serial numbers that would directly tie them to being part of a battlestar's equipment." "Energizers?" Gunross chuckled, "Commander, those things are custom-built for every component they're needed in. They've got to have those markings, as well as the name of the ship they're intended for engraved in four places." "That's what I was afraid of," Adama sighed, "Is it feasible to take an integral energizer unit, remove all such markings, and allow it to still function?" Gunross's silence on the other end indicated his surprise by the question. "I'd be afraid to try it, Commander. See, the only way to remove those markings is to burn them off completely, and there's a good chance the inner components will be damaged if they're subjected to that kind of rigorous treatment." "I see. Thank you, that's all I needed to know. You can return to your duties now, T.C." "Thank you, sir," there was a great deal of relief in the engineer's voice that struck Adama as puzzling, but he thought no more of it as he put the telecom unit down and shook his head in disgust. "So much for that idea. Any energizer we have here on the Galactica is worthless to use as a bargaining chip to get that new seed." "Then I guess we'll have to come up with an energizer that has no markings," Tigh mused. Adama looked up at him, and in an instant his optimism returned. "I never considered the possibility. Colonel, notify Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck that they're to start investigating all of the older civilian ships in the Fleet to see if the kind of energizer we need exists. They are to have their survey completed no sooner than mid-day period tomorrow." ***** The next morning, Adama found himself roused awake by the sound of the telecom unit next to his bed. Somewhat groggily, he reached for it and hoped it would be good news this time. "Adama." "Father, it's Apollo," his son's voice sounded somewhat guarded. "Oh, yes!" Adama rose in his bed, all of the sleep gone from him. "Is this about that search effort for an energizer?" "Yes it is, um...I don't know how to put this. It's...good news and bad news." "What?" Adama frowned, "Did you find an energizer with no marks?" "Yes, yes I did," his son said hastily, "It was built in the Orion system, which means it has no Colonial markings whatsoever, military or civilian. That's the good news." Suddenly, Adama felt the waves of pessimism in his gut that he'd awaken to the previous day. "What's the bad news?" His son took a breath, "The, ah...the energizer's owner refuses to give it up." "What?" Adama swung his legs out from the bed and felt a wave of anger go through him. "Did you tell the owner this is a serious Fleet emergency?" "Yes, I did. But, I'm afraid that didn't impress---" "Then tell the owner this!" Adama felt his anger increasing, "That by my authority as Fleet Commander under this state of Martial Law we're operating under, I'm giving a direct order to have that energizer turned over immediately. If the owner's worried about being properly compensated, we will take care of that later. But if you don't have that energizer within the next centar, I want the owner arrested!" "Um...Father, I don't think you understand. I already told the woman that's what she'd likely face, and her exact words were, and I quote, 'Go right ahead and arrest me then, because I'm not giving it up unless I get the kind of compensation I really want.'" "The woman?" Adama wondered if he was going mad, "Apollo, just who is this person?" Apollo took another deep breath before answering, "Siress Brunhilda." Adama's face suddenly changed from one of intense anger to one of intense sickness and dread. So great were those emotions, the telecom nearly fell out of his hand. "Good Lords of Kobol," he whispered. "Of all the people in this Fleet..." "She did say that she was quite willing to discuss matters of compensation for the energizer, but...she was adamant about only discussing them with you, Father." "I suspected as much," Adama barely managed to get his words out, "I'm on my way." As the commander got up and dressed, he wished he were a cadet performing turboflush cleaning detail at that instant. By far that would have been a more pleasant task then the one he knew he was going to have to perform today. ***** Chapter Thirty-Five: Siress Brunhilde Still Wants Adama After All These Yahrens Throughout the shuttle ride to the astroporter Confusion, Apollo found himself unable to take his eyes off the bouquet of flowers Adama held in his lap. The thought that his father would have to deal with the first major internal crisis to come up since the illness that had struck down half of the Galactica's pilots in this way struck him as something out of the most preposterous drama he'd ever seen in his life. He decided he needed some answers from his father. "All these yahrens, whenever I heard Siress Brunhilde's name come up in conversation at home, you always said you didn't want to hear her name mentioned." Apollo said, "Just how is it that you know her?" Adama shook his head in disgust, "Brunhilde and I were children together on Caprica," he said, "Primary school classes. That was when she first began...taking an interest in me." "Oh brother," Apollo shook his head, knowing immediately the kind of behavior his father was talking about. "I...made the mistake of humoring her, by pretending to reciprocate the interest. I...just thought it was all in fun, because you know how boys react to that kind of situation at that young an age..." "I surely do," Apollo nodded dryly, finding this all so incredible. "But...Brunhilde...thought differently about it, and that's why, as we grew up, she...kept up showing the interest. And I...didn't want to be impolite to her, so I would take her out to some harmless public activity like a triad match or an Armament Day Parade. Never anything intimate like a private dinner for two, yet...she still seemed to think that we were somehow a serious item." "I think I can guess what happened next," Apollo said, "This was when you met Mother and started going out with her, and Brunhilde grew jealous when she saw there was a serious rival for your affections." Adama shook his head and trembled as he recalled the awful memories of so many yahrens ago, "Apollo, if I tried to describe the night Brunhilde showed up at my apartment when I invited Ila over for a candlight supper for the first time, you just wouldn't believe it. It was like...something straight out of some badly written melodrama or camp farce. Before I had anything to say about it, they were practically in a catfight with each other. And that was only the first time one of those confrontations happened. It wasn't until a few sectars went by that Brunhilde finally realized how serious things were between me and Ila and started to back off, and thank the Lords she'd begun setting her sights on a wealthy industrial trader, Sire Cesis, whom she eventually became sealed to. After that the only time I ever saw her again was at a society function during a furlon, and I found it embarrassing to even so much as say hello to her." "What happened to her husband?" Apollo was finding it difficult to refrain from laughter. "He died twenty yahrens ago, leaving her with one of the largest fortunes in the Colonies," Adama went on. "And that's what enabled Brunhilde to have her own personal ship at her disposal when the Destruction took place." "And make her prominent enough a person so that if any punitive action were taken against her to get the energizer from her, you'd be looking at a public relations catastrophe with the friends she undoubtedly has on the Council." Apollo finally added the final piece of the puzzle that explained his father's sick timidity. "Yes," Adama nodded. "As much as I hate this, I've been left with no choice but to...charm her if I have to, if we're ever to get that energizer." The captain leaned back in his chair and absently shook his head, "Good luck." ***** As Adama approached the entrance to Siress Brunhilde's chambers, he wondered if he was going to get physically ill before this was all over. Part of him just wanted to turn around and run away from this as fast as he could, and see if some alternate plan could be enacted to get the seed the Fleet needed. But when he glanced back over his shoulder and saw Apollo standing at the other end of the room with a perplexed sneer, he knew that wasn't an option. "I sincerely hope you're not enjoying this." "Me? No way," his son shook his head, "I'm as embarrassed as you are to see you in this position, Father. But we're all having to sacrifice for the war effort. To paraphrase what you used to say to me when I was a kid, just hold your head up high." Adama shook his head in amazement to hear that expression used by his son to him, as if Fate had somehow reversed their roles. The sound of a sing-song, feminine voice from inside the next compartment suddenly filled the room. "Greetings Adama! Hah-hah! I've been expecting you!" Adama nearly dropped the flowers he was still holding as he reached over to open the door that led to her chambers. When the door opened, he was greeted to the sight of a garishly decorated room in noisy shades of red and green that said nothing about her other than that she had hideous tastes. Lounging on the equally garish red bed, wearing a gown that also matched the decor, was Brunhilde. While it would have been unmerited to describe the white-haired siress as physically unappealing, there was little Adama or most men would have found striking in her face and figure, which told the story of a woman on her way to self-destruction because of too much time spent imbibing choice ambrosia and ingesting exotic delicacies. There was an mischievous grin on Brunhidle's face, and the way she kept bobbing her head indicated to Adama that the Siress had despite the early time of the cycle, was tipsy from too much drink already. The blessings of the Lords of Kobol are with me. I shall not fear, he thought as he approached her. "Well, well!" Belloby said as she fidgeted with her jeweled necklace, "To think that I would have the honor of having the great Commander Adama visit me in my humble little abode. That's too much for a woman to handle for one day." Adama took a breath and faked a smile, "It's my pleasure, Brunhilde. It's...so wonderful that at last we meet again." "Mmmm, and I see you've never given up that Caprican habit of understating the matter, Adama." She then squinted at him. "Oh my! Just like me you've gone white since we last met! It seems like only the last cycle that your hair was such a lovely shade of black." "It happens even to the best of us." "How true, how true, my darling," she touched her well-coiffed white hair. Adama was finding it impossible to keep smiling as he took another step toward her. Brunhilde's crudeness, which he could remember seeing early signs of as far back as their childhood days together, had seemingly grown by leaps and bounds in the yahrens since. "Come and sit by me, Adama," she patted the empty spot on the bed and brought herself up to a sitting position. "It's been such a long, long time." Adama felt himself sweating as he offered the bouquet to her. "Are those for me?" her tipsy smile widened as she took the flowers, "Why Adama, I thought this was just going to be a business call from you, once I heard you'd be coming over." "Well now, Brunhilde," Adama forced himself to chuckle, "Even a warrior can always take the time to recognize the beauty in life." Brunhilde set the flowers down and suddenly began to laugh. "Oh Adama, darling. I may have had a few Sagitarian stardusters already, but even that's not enough to dull me to that hypocritical tone in your voice. If you're suddenly bringing me flowers, it can only mean you want that energizer badly!" Adama sat down next to her and decided to drop the charade. "Brunhilde," his tone was deadly serious now, "Don't you understand the seriousness of the situation?" The siress was already shaking her head. "Of course I do, darling Adama. That handsome son of yours told me everything last night about why you need it. I'm so glad to see he's the spitting image of you when you used to take me to the triad matches. Those were such splendid times, weren't they?" "Yes, absolutely gorgeous times," he mumbled, "Brunhilde, don't force me to---" "To what?" her tipsy voice suddenly took on a pointed edge, "To clap my beautiful body in irons and throw it in the Prison Barge if I don't just meekly turn what's rightfully mine over to you? Surely you wouldn't want to handle the scandal of that now, would you? Can you imagine how my good friend Zara, you know the one who broadcasts the news to everyone in the Fleet, might report that? And then there's my old pal Sire Dorwin, who sits on the Council. He'd want to know why you felt the need to act that way to a poor little woman like me who only wanted a little compensation for doing her patriotic duty?" I wonder how Sire Cesis could ever stand being in the same room with you? Adama now began to seethe inside, and he wondered if he was going to be able to keep his real emotions bottled in. "All right then," he said calmly, "What sort of 'compensation' do you expect me to give you for the energizer?" Brunhilde let out another drunken cackle and drew closer to him, "Shouldn't that be obvious, after all these yahrens?" she then inflected her words with her clumsy attempt at seductiveness, "You...are...the...compensation...Adama. So we'll finally have a chance at recapturing those wonderful times we had when we were so young and naive." Her expression grew soulful, "We really could help each other a lot, couldn't we, Adama? I mean...you're a widower, and I'm a widow. Why can't two lonely people in all this trouble and destruction we've had to go through just learn to help each other?" Adama suddenly got to his feet, and now he found it impossible to contain the bubbling anger he felt inside. "This is not a game, Brunhilde," Adama's voice turned icy and austere. "It's not about you, or me, or us helping each other. It's about you and I joining forces to give the people of this fleet a chance to survive. Are you really so selfish as to think only of your personal comfort when the lives of so many of your fellow humans are in peril?" Brunhilde's smile faded, but as she placed her hands on the bed and looked up at Adama, it was clear that she hadn't been intimidated or impressed. "Adama," her voice was now at the most serious it could be, "I saw enough destruction for a lifetime four sectars ago the night I saw everything that had meaning to me in the universe go up in flames. It's haunted every dream of mine ever since," she managed to get to her feet, "I want a chance to enjoy life again. Is that so much to ask? And if I've got a chance to find some enjoyment again, why does that make me a bad person?" Adama felt all the frustration return. In an instant, Brunhilde had managed to extinguish the fire in him completely. If he followed his gut instinct and had her arrested, he knew he'd have to face those feelings of guilt that he always knew he'd face if he'd never gone out with her when they were young. Damn you, Brunhilde. "Very well," he said calmly, "Perhaps we can find ways of helping each other... even as we find ways of helping the fleet too." The siress suddenly burst into another tipsy grin, "Oh Adama darling, what a wonderful diplomat you are! Why don't we start discussing the particulars, and when we're done, you can tell your son outside that the energizer is all his for the taking!" But when Adama left the room ten centons later, he marched past his son without saying anything, a dour, stoic expression on his face. "Father?" Apollo called after him, "Father, what happened?" Adama stopped and pivoted around on his bootheels. "Go down to the engineering section. Brunhilde's notified them and cleared you to remove the energizer. That is all!" And then, his father angrily stormed off down the corridor. ***** His duties aboard the Confusion finished, Apollo returned to the Galactica and went straight to his father's quarters. More than two centars after Adama had stormed away from him aboard the little astroporter, he could see his father still visibly angry and full of life, pacing back and forth throughout the room. "Father," Apollo decided he needed to keep his tone dead serious. "We've finished securing the energizer. A team's being assembled to handle the mission. Myself. Boomer, Starbuck, and Jolly. We'll be wearing civilian clothes that should fit right in with an agro-settlement." "Good," Adama seemed to be struggling to keep his tone under control. " Can the mission be under way in a centar?" "Yes," his son nodded. Adama stopped pacing, "That gives me thirty centons to get some clothes for myself and be ready." Apollo frowned, "I beg your pardon?" "I will be accompanying you on this mission, Apollo." There was a firmness in Adama's voice that reminded Apollo of the tone he'd hear just before it was time to receive punishment. Apollo was taken aback. "There's absolutely no need for you to go." Adama angrily shook his finger at him, "I have been cooped up in this Fleet for the better part of two sectars now. I am going on this mission, and that is final!" "But sir, we desperately need you here aboard the Galactica! There's always the possibility of the Cylons attempting another major suicide offensive against our battlestar." "I have every confidence in Colonel Tigh's command abilities should a military crisis come up during the time it will take to complete the mission---which I doubt it will." Adama refused to budge. "In my opinion, we face a situation as grave as the previous Cylon attack. No seed means no food; no food means famine and famine means death! It's just that simple. Now I'll hear no more objections from you! Get your team ready with enough short-range provisions for six!" Apollo knew there was no point arguing with Adama, either as son to father, or captain to commander. "Yes sir," he muttered in defeat and moved toward the door, but then stopped just as it opened. "Wait a centon," Apollo said as he turned around. "Why do we need provisions for six when adding you to the mission just makes five?" Adama's inner fury was causing him to tremble, "My apologies for not mentioning this earlier: Siress Brunhilde will also be accompanying us." "What?" Apollo's face twisted in bewilderment as he closed the door and stepped back toward him, "Father, just what did you have to promise her in return for that energizer?" Adama's hands were behind his back, his head help up high as though it were the only way he could keep his sense of self-esteem. "I promised to..." he had to struggle to keep his feelings of revulsion in check, "court her, as the old idiom goes. I did not say when or where, but I made a promise to spend some time with her in some way, somehow. If you doubt my wisdom on this matter, Apollo, just imagine how embarrassed I'd be if I had to take her to some dinner in public aboard the Rising Star where I'd have to see Kobol knows how many important people staring at me!" His voice was rising as he forced out the last sentence. "Hopefully, she'll lose her appetite for being courted if she has to get exposed to how tough a mission could end up being, which is not a consideration, since I want this mission to be as smooth as possible!" Adama angrily retorted. "Now in the meantime, Captain, you will cease this infantile dithering in my quarters and prepare yourself for this mission, because we must have those seeds before the sectan is out!" "Yes sir!" Apollo said as he bid a hasty retreat, this time not stopping to look back. Inside, he felt embarrassed to see a man as proud as his father subjected to the indignity of doing favors for someone like Siress Brunhilde, whose self-centered behavior and obliviousness to the dangers the Fleet faced reminded him exactly of Sire Zalto, when he'd stumbled on his private party aboard the Rising Star just after the Destruction. Now there's a pair that would deserve each other, he thought in disgust as he made his way down to his quarters, where he knew Boxey was likely waiting for him. Athena had declared today a "day of mourning" for all the firefighters that died during the attack, and all instruction periods for the little boy were therefore cancelled. When he entered his quarters, he saw Boxey and Muffit sitting on the other side of the room. The downcast expression on his face indicated that he'd already heard about the mission his father would be leaving on. "Hi Boxey," Apollo said as he removed his flight jacket and went over to his locker to see if the civilian clothes he'd requested had arrived. He saw that they had. "Hi," his son's voice reflected his expression. "Athena said you were leaving again. Why do you need to leave me behind all the time?" Boxey said. Apollo slipped into the trousers of the civilian outfit. "Boxey," he said gently, "I'm a warrior. And you know that means I sometimes have to go on missions where it's not safe for a little boy like you to go." He paused, "That's why I didn't want you to stow away on the shuttle to planet Equis. You saw how dangerous that was, didn't you?" "Sure," Boxey admitted, "But I got to meet all kinds of people. All those children." "Yeah," Apollo nodded, "But was hiding in the crevice while that patrol of Cylons walked by fun? What about the giant cyclopoid throwing huge boulders at the scarab? What about feeling yourself knocked around inside the back end of the scarab while the shuttle was going in for a crash landing? And did you enjoy the waves crashing on you when we crossed that stormy inland sea?" He finished donning the civilian outfit and came over to him. "Boxey, that's why you've got to remember why being a warrior isn't fun and games. Combat situations can be terrifying, and that's why you can't go along on these missions with me, until you're older and you've learned how to handle what might happen." "You mean there's a bunch of Cylons on this planet with a big supergun pointed at us too?" Apollo didn't expect that question from him. "Not that I know of. I don't know of any Cylons down there, now that I think of it." "Athena says it's just a mission to get fresh seeds, isn't it?" His father looked him in the eye and suddenly realized that he had a point. "That's right, Boxey," he paused and nodded, "And you know something? It isn't going to be dangerous like Equis was. Heck, that's why your grandfather's taking along a..." he hesitated to form the next word, "friend of his. And if his friend can come, there's no reason why you can't come too!" Boxey immediately smiled, "What about Muffy?" "Of course!" Apollo laughed and hugged him, "You two come with me, and this will be a mission we can all have some fun with." As Apollo led his son and his daggit out into the corridor, he knew he was apt to invite some grumblings from his father over granting this leeway to Boxey, especially after the little boy's stowing away aboard the shuttle for the desert planet mission had led to some serious tongue-lashings from Adama about sticking to orders, upon their return. But at this point, Apollo didn't care. He'd seen too much time he'd wanted to spend with his son slip away from him of late, and if he could avoid letting that happen, he was going to do it. Besides, he had a feeling that his father was going to be too preoccupied with Brunhilde to keep from objecting to Boxey's presence. ***** "Commander," Tigh said over his headset, "We're transmitting the full data we have on Arcadis to the shuttle's computers. You should have plenty of time to check it over again during your transit time to the planet." "Thank you, Colonel," Adama said from inside the shuttle as he tugged at the high collar of the slightly oversized coral- velvet blouse he wore. It had been so long since he'd last wore any kind of a civilian wardrobe that he knew it would be awhile before he got used to it. "Why Adama, I had no idea you planned our first date to be a nice little stroll among the stars!" Adama turned around and saw that Brunhilde had arrived and was standing in the entryway to the shuttle. He had to force himself not to lose his cool. "Sit down Brunhilde," he politely motioned, "I'll be with you in a micron." The commander then turned to his right where Boomer sat in the pilot's seat, and then to his left, where Starbuck was sitting. Both of the warriors were staring straight ahead, refusing to show any sign that they'd heard what had just transpired. Only when Adama turned around and head toward the back of the shuttle, did Boomer and Starbuck finally let some of their feelings out with twisted leers and low-volume chuckles. "Oh boy," Starbuck snickered, "This is not going to be your run-of-the-mill mission. "That's the first sure tip you ever gave me in your life, Bucko," Boomer said as he went back to the pre-flight shuttle manifest. ***** "Well Adama, I think this is so generous of you, to give me a chance to finally get off that itsy-bitsy ship of mine and move about again!" Brunhilde only seemed slightly less tipsy then she had earlier in the day. To Adama, seeing Belloby less inebriated only highlighted everything else that was annoying about her. Adama faked a smile as he sat down directly opposite Jolly, who was staring at the floor and absently tugging at his moustache. "Forgive my lax etiquette, Siress Brunhilde!" he motioned, "I don't believe you've met Flight Sergeant Jolly of Blue Squadron. Sergeant Jolly, Siress Brunhilde." The fat sergeant managed a brief wave, but was too embarrassed to say anything. "Pleased to meet you, fatso," the siress barely nodded her head and immediately sat down next to Adama, "Adama, I'm just dying to see what kind of romantic hideaway you're taking me to." her voice was dripping with her idea of what sounding seductive should be like, but which to a sober ear was anything but. The commander felt the queasiness rising, "Sergeant!" he rose and came over to Jolly, "I believe you were telling me you recently volunteered for Officer's Training. How's your progress?" Jolly was caught off guard, "What? Oh! My progress...ah, well it's coming along fine, thank you sir. I ah...in fact, they say my chances of receiving a commission are quite good." "Excellent," Adama patted him on the shoulder, "It's always nice to see a good warrior advance in the ranks." "Beggin' the Commander's pardon, I think I need to help Starbuck and Boomer with the shuttle manifest." He then rose and disappeared toward the front as quickly as he could go. "Jolly, please don't---" Adama whispered in despair, and then with defeated resignation, forced himself to sit back down. Almost immediately, Brunhilde rested her head on his shoulder. "Why don't you learn to loosen up, darling?" she cooed, "In no time, I can make a new man of you." More like half a man, he thought with disgust. So much was his mind focused on wishing he were someplace else, that he didn't even notice Apollo entering the shuttle with Boxey and Muffit trailing them. "Is that Grandpa's friend?" The sound of Boxey's voice jolted Adama back to reality. He looked up and saw his son trying hard not to grin. "In a manner of speaking, yes, Boxey. Now come on, we have to get ourselves strapped in." Adama shook his head in disbelief. Now he had to face the indignity of all this happening in front of his grandson as well. "Galactica Core Command, this is Alpha Shuttle," Starbuck said from up front. "Manifest complete. We are ready to launch." "Affirmative Alpha Shuttle," Tigh's voice filled the craft, "Launch clearance granted. Good luck." The blonde warrior glanced back and didn't bother hiding the grin. "I think we're all going to need plenty of that, Colonel." ***** Chapter Thirty-Six: When The Two Moons Shine Brightly In The Sky... Since pioneer settlers from the Twelve Worlds first established it more than 700 yahrens ago, the little agro community of New Corinth had changed relatively little. Dark hemispheres of concrete and stone lined with wooden boardwalks rose like weeds from the dusty desert floor of Arcadis. These were the dome-shaped buildings of the main town where the general population of some 2000 people were concentrated. Shops, entertainment centers and warehouses were here, laid out in clusters with dirt streets marked between them. Passageways extended from each group of houses to the central administration building, where the town council met to discuss official city business. Energon lamps brightened these streets and ringed the major centers. They were, generally speaking, able to earn a comfy living. While unable to establish new technologies in spaceflight, the Arcadisites had still been able to preserve their technological knowledge of the ancestors who had first settled the planet so many hundreds of yahrens of ago, allowing them to engage in commercial activities with settlements that existed on some of the neighboring planets in its own star system. From the standpoint of someone accustomed to the sophisticated cosmopolitan ways of the Colonies, the miniature city of New Corinth would have seemed like a "middle of nowhere community" that still managed to offer most of the basic necessities a modern civilization should offer. The average cycle in New Corinth, due of the planet's slant from the sun, was 60% in nighttime conditions, which often suited the populace just fine since it usually meant an excuse to spend slightly longer periods in town enjoying the pleasures the Town Chancery had to offer. Business was usually at full peak within a centar after night had fallen, and stayed that way almost to dawn. The loud music and laughter of the Chancery finally proved more than the big man in the white ten-gallon hat named Hoss could stand. He had one of the most important jobs in New Corinth as the right-hand man to the town's popularly elected Head Coordinator, Winger. It was his job to make sure that the will of whatever Sectar's leader wanted was always carried out, and to also advise him on vital issues related to the settlement's welfare. Tonight seemed like one of those nights where he could unwind and feel easy. The hefty man took out a curved holder called a hookah, from which a fumarello was attached to the end, and lit it with a wooden match. The hookah had practically become a trademark of his, one that always enabled people in New Corinth to know exactly who he was, and how important his job as Winger's right hand man was. He took a puff and watched as a woman bearing over her shoulders twin scoops of mounded charcoals burning came down the dark night street. From these heaps of pink burning coals, firefly sparks scattered and blew in the soft night breeze, which died. Where she passed on bare feet, she left a trail of little sparks that died. Without a word, she went around a corner into an alley and disappeared from sight. After her came a man carrying, on his head, lightly, a small coffin, a box made of plain white wood nailed shut. On the sides and top of the box were pinned cheap silver rosettes, hand-made silk and paper flowers. Hoss snorted smoke as he realized what he was watching. Someone who'd died, perhaps recently, was in that white box. The family couldn't afford the rent on his grave, so they had the corpse dug up and taken to the Catacombs just a hectare outside of town. Most of the earth was dry here on Arcadis, so dry that it made mummies out of them. After taking another puff, he turned around and could look out beyond the edge of the town limits toward the distant rocky plateaus. And instantly, he saw a sight that made him freeze in horror. The sight of both of Arcadis' two moons in full view; the smaller one bare of any surface details, the larger moon with craters and shadowy "seas," one of which formed the image of a giant mouse in its lower hemisphere. This phenomenon happened for a period of several cycles every sectan. Whenever that sight filled the nighttime sky, it meant only one thing. Hoss dashed back into the Chancery as fast as he could go. When he entered, his eyes searched for his boss,distinguishable from the rest of the human patrons by his freshly-polished chrome face and skull. He was presently seated at a table in the middle enjoying a hand of Pyramid with his friends. "Hey, Winger!" he shouted, "Danged if both o' them moons ain't out an' shinin' like beacons!" "What? Frack!" the gleaming, broad-shouldered intelligent droid, dressed in a belted smoking jacket of black silk with elaborate oregg thread embroidery and matching black pants, threw his cards down and got to his feet. "Cut out the lights! Get every door secured and bolted fast!" he commanded in his deep metallic voice. As a burst of frantic activity took place inside the Chancery, Winger and Hoss made their way outside and dashed frantically across the town square toward the building that housed the city jail. All around them, the general population of New Corinth fled to get inside whatever building was closest to them and saw to it that the doors were bolted as quickly as possible. To the sounds of frantic townspeople screaming and running for cover, another sound now filled the night. The sound of a massive herd of equine beats drawing closer and closer to town and numo shots that sounded as if they'd been fired into the air. When Winger and Hoss reached the jail, they saw the man they were looking for. A man loading an ancient numo rifle, who looked very nervous. "Cardigan," Winger said, "I regret to inform you that it's time to do your duty." Town Constable Cardigan looked at them, and there was no mistaking the look of terror on his face. "As if I didn't know. You can hear the whole herd. And you expect me to stop them with one of these ancient relics that couldn't stop a wraimar?" "Calm yourself, Cardigan!" Winger wasn't truly programmed for reassurance, but tried to sound a note of it in his artificial voice, even though he knew it was insincere. "The Dorays are herd creatures. Your presence alone should be enough to stop them from pillaging and stealing our crop surpluses." "That's how them critters do things," Hoss chimed in. "Jes' stand out there, point that thing at 'em like you mean t' use it...Shucks, they'll git the idea." Cardigan glared at him, "Just like the last three constables before me did? All ending up the same way after you bribed them with all kinds of perks into taking the job in the first place, like you did with me?" "Winger, if there's one thing the good people of this township abhor more than the Dorays, it's open spinelessness," the robot said. "You accepted that badge, and once you accept it---" "Don't repeat it" the Constable said with clear resignation to his fate, "Once a man accepts the badge he's got it for life, however long that is. It was my decision to take your offer and now I have to live with that." He finished loading the numo, "I might as well get this over with." Hoss held open the door for him as Farns went outside. As soon as the constable had stepped out, the big burly man immediately barricaded the door. Outside, the sound of approaching hoofbeats had grown deafening. Above them, the sound of wild squealing from those riding the equines could be heard as well. Amidst the ruckus that was causing almost everything inside the room to vibrate, they could hear two gunshots, but then nothing more but the hoofbeats, numo blasts and squealing. On and on it went for centons. The only other sound Winger thought he heard was the sound of objects crashing from somewhere on the edge of town. He already knew from past experience what that meant. The sounds of food storage sheds being looted with rapid swiftness. Finally, when the sounds began to recede, Winger took a chance on opening the door. He could see two big balls of lead embedded in black-edged holes in the wall just above the doorjamb, which meant the Dorays had been firing their weapons mostly as a scare tactic, not really intending to kill anyone, except perhaps someone foolish enough to stand in their way. The Head Coordinator and his adjutant then moved out into the town square and saw the body of Cardigan sprawled out in the center of the road. Blood seeped from a black hole in the middle of his forehead, right between the eyes. His own numo, both barrels still smoking, lay useless to one side of his unmoving form. Winger stood over the body and shook his chrome skull in a pale imitation of human sadness. Cardigan had lasted almost a two sectars in the job, getting through the last rampage, which had been a miracle in itself. It had probably been too much to expect he could get through another one unscathed. "Poor Constable Cardigan," Winger sighed as he removed the gold Constable's badge from Cardigan's' tunic. "He was the best man we ever had in the office." When Winger looked up, he saw that a large crowd had now ventured out, each of the expressions on the peoples' faces absolutely gloomy. "I need a volunteer to take Cardigan's place. The job will pay quite handsomely, I assure you." "You blow a circuit or somethin' upstairs, Winger?" one man said sarcastically, "I'd just as soon take a job working for ol' Morbuis himself." "That goes for me too," another man said as the crowd now dispersed, "It'll be a cold day in Hades before you get any of us to take that job, Winger." "Can't say as I blame 'em none," Hoss said glumly. "You'd have t'be plumb loco to want that badge." "We could always double the wages." "Naw. Wouldn't do no good. Still wouldn't be any takers." The Head Coordinator nodded, "I'm afraid that computes, Hoss. We're just going to have to hope that before the next charge, which might well happen tomorrow, some drifter from a neighboring planetoids will come by to solve our problem there. That's how we got Cardigan's two predecessors." "Good idea. Meantime, I'll be prayin' for that gallmongin' masked she-lupus Warbride to jump in a creek an' die," Hoss said bitterly. "Sure would solve our problems better than any dang constable would." "Since that's unlikely to happen anytime soon," Winger said flatly, "we'll have to place our hopes on the first alternative." ***** Throughout the shuttle ride, Adama wondered if he'd have any of his sanity left by the time they reached Arcadis. There seemed to be no limit to Brunhilde's incessant desire to openly flirt with him in front of everyone else. With Jolly helping Boomer and Starbuck, and Apollo spending his time with Boxey, Adama had no one on board to turn to provide some diversion. Forgive me, Ila, he thought of his late wife not for the first time since he'd been forced to begin this farce with the woman who had seen herself as Ila's rival. When he heard Starbuck's voice calling him, he felt like someone who'd been rescued from a fate worse than death. "Commander? You'd better come up here, we're about to land." "Oh yes!" Adama rose, leaving Brunhilde with a hurt look that he'd walked away from her. "Yes, Lieutenant, what do your scans of the region indicate?" "Exactly what the earlier viper scans showed." The blonde warrior knew he had to keep a straight face. "I'll set us down far enough from town so that no one from there can pragmatically stumble onto the shuttle, but close enough for us to get there with ease on our support vehicle." "Good thinking." Adama nodded. "What kind of support vehicle did we load?" "A treaded Landmule," Boomer said, "About what one would expect for short ground transport in a society no more advanced than the fifth to sixth millennium." "All right," the Commander said, "The two of you will take the Landmule with the energizer into town, and contact the civic leaders, who should be receptive to the offer." "Sounds good to me," Starbuck said matter-of-factly, "It'll be interesting to see what the female population of this Arcadis looks like." Adama stared at him and was on the verge of submitting an agry reply to his remark, but decided to forget it. If he couldn't summon the nerve to raise his voice with Brunhilde, then how could he ever do it with Starbuck? "Just try not to take too long," Adama patted him on the shoulder as he prepared to go back to his seat. And then, when he saw Brunhilde stretched out in her seat giving him a coy wink, he couldn't help but add, "Please." He made his way past Apollo and Boxey. The little boy was asking his father if there might be any real daggits on Arcadis. As much as Boxey loved his robot pet, there was still one part of him that fondly remembered the first Muffit, his live daggit on Caprica, and he would have loved the chance to see a live one again. "I'm not sure, Boxey." Apollo was saying, "But then, what does a real daggit have on Muffit anyway?" he patted the robot on the head. Boxey looked thoughtfully at his pet and grinned, "Nothing!" As soon as the word was out, Muffit let out a beeping sound of approval. Adama wished he could think of an excuse to join in, but he knew he didn't. Resigned to his fate, he sat next to Brunhidle who immediately planted her head on his shoulder once again. "Mmmm, Adama, is there any chance we might get a few centons alone once we've made planetfall?" "Ah...I doubt it, Belloby." he then said hastily, "It's a nice thought, I'll grant you, but we do need to have a couple men to stay with the shuttle at all times. After all, would we want to run the risk of seeing our only hope of leaving destroyed?" "Destroyed?" the siress let out an annoying sounding laugh. "You mean if that happened, we'd have to spend the rest of our lives on a nice planet with no unfiltered air? I could get use to that!" If that is so, then perhaps...I should consider leaving you behind? He thought with disgust, as he now had a good inkling as to why Brunhilde's late husband Sire Cesis had died so prematurely. "Can you just see us, all alone, stranded on a nice planet together, where we could just let go of all our inhibitions," she put her arms around him and seemed on the verge of kissing him on the cheek. "Brunhilde, please," he whispered as he shot a glance toward Apollo and Boxey, "There are children present!" "Come again?" Brunhilde asked. "You know how it is," Adama replied. "Apollo's still quite upset over the loss of his mother... We'll have to let things progress... slowly... very slowly..." Brunhilde allowed Adama to remove her arms from around his neck. She was, after all, a feeling person, though for the moment she looked at Apollo as if he were a case of pox. The sound of the shuttle touching down on the surface jolted them so that Adama could at last break free from the siress' clutches. He got to his feet and for the first time managed to get all his command orientation back. "All right, let's move out and not waste a micron! Apollo, Jolly get the landmule out. Boomer, Starbuck you see to the energizer. And Boxey," he glanced at his grandson with a wry expression, "You and Muffit can be the chaperones for me and Siress Brunhilde." "Yes sir!" the little boy grinned. When Adama turned around, he saw for the first time with satisfaction that the smile was gone from Brunhilde's face ***** Once the Landmule was unloaded and the energizer placed in the cargo bed, Boomer and Starbuck got in and drove off toward the distant lights of the colony on the horizon. The barren terrain was mostly pock-marked with meteor craters and rock outcroppings, pinnacles and small cliffs thrust upward from the earth. The ride through this desolate countryside was somewhat bumpy, but nothing that either warrior found difficult in the slightest. After a ride of twenty centons, they reached the town of New Corinth. Their first reaction was one of slight confusion when they saw that almost every building in town now had their lights off. Only one building showed any signs of activity, and from the sound of music and people laughing that emanated from the open doorway, Starbuck immediately knew it could only be the sounds of a local Chancery, sounds he knew all too well. As they brought the Landmule to a stop in front of the Chancery's wooden doors, a faraway voice boomed from up the street. "Skulls, sweet sugar skulls, sweet candy skulls, the skulls of the dear departed," sang the voice coming close now. Willing to ignore the voice for the time being, Starbuck said, "Looks like this is the only place open, Boomer." "Not exactly the sort of place one would go to discuss an energizer-for-seed deal," Boomer said dryly. "Are you up to your old tricks again, Bucko? Looking for an excuse to try one of your patented systems on this unsuspecting population?" Their conversation was interrupted by a hunchbacked street vendor who ambled up beside the Landmule. Actually, he wasn't hunched; he just had a whole load of little "skulls" on his back. "Sweet skulls, sweet white crystal sugar candy skulls," sang the vendor, his face concealed under the broad brim of his large, tall-crowned straw hat. And carried from a long steel rod over his shoulder hung on black threads were dozens and scores of sugar skulls as big as a child's head. "Names! Names!" sang the old vendor. "Tell me your name, I'll give you a skull." "What's the occasion, mister?" asked Boomer. Personally, he found the idea of a candy confection in the shape of a human skull to be in extremely bad taste. "The Day of the Dead, sir," replied the vendor. "Each yahren, we take three days out of life to honor those who have passed away." "Sorry, old timer. Think we'll pass," Starbuck said as he leaped out of the driver's position of the Landmule. Boomer took one last look at the vendor as he skulked down the street, chanting his spiel, then leaped over his side of the Landmule to catch up with Starbuck, who was approaching the Chancery's entryway. "Buck-ohh!" "Lighten up, Boomer. We've got to start asking questions someplace. A Chancery's as good as any other place to start...especially when it's the only one open." Figures that we'd end up in a Chancery again, Boomer thought as they stepped out and entered the building. Let's just hope this doesn't end up being as bad as the one on Carillon turned out to be. ***** "Since this was the first night of the full moons for both, chances are we'll have it again the next two cycles," Winger said as he and Hoss walked through the Chancery. "And since we've entered the new solstice period, we're facing another extra centar of night conditions too. This is the worst possible time to be without a constable." "Don't look at me," his aide said as he took a puff on his hookah. "I wouldn't even consider risking your life that way," Winger said. "Unless we find another down on his luck prospector or some poor, unwitting stranger... "...we're jus' plum outta luck," Hoss finished the sentence for him. Suddenly, from the other side of the room toward the entrance, they could hear a brash sounding voice saying, "Boomer, we're in luck! This is my kind of town." The two men turned around and saw two men, one blonde, the other dark-skinned entering the Chancery. Immediately, they both knew that neither was part of the New Corinth population. "Maybe we are," Winger pulled out the constable's badge, "and maybe we're not." He slowly made his way toward them. "Excuse me," he said, "You two are new to Arcadis, aren't you?" Starbuck eyed him cautiously. Yahrens of fighting Cylons had given him an unreasoning bias against mechanical beings---from servos to droids. This one looked like he was in charge of the place...a position droids simply could not have occupied anywhere else in the Colonies, save Scorpia. "We could well be." "My name's Winger. Well, my full name anyway is Winger (M6)/SCPS-31 PB. I'm the Head Coordinator for this community, so if there's anything you need help with, I'm the man, so to speak, to come to." "Pleased to meet you," Starbuck extended his hand, "I'm Starbuck. This is my friend, Boomer. We're looking for someone to talk to about an agro purchase." "Oh?" Winger lifted his chrome brow as he raised his metal hand to reciprocate the handshake, "Are you boys farmers?" "Yep. My Pa and I...we run a pretty good sized nitron field in the next quadrant. But...we've just suffered some reverses of late." "Really?" Winger's curiosity was piqued. "What happened?" "Blight," Starbuck said, hoping he'd remembered the correct term. "Totally wiped out our crop for the next harvest cycle. That's why we're in need of fresh seed, grade 'A'." "That's right," Boomer chimed in, "And it's our understanding that this planet is noted for having full bins of seed surplus." "We do quite well," Winger said. "We've got more than 700 yahrens of experience in agro techniques." "That's why we were hoping for the possibility of a trade-off," Boomer added. "Very well. I'll see that you're provided with suitable employment," the robot said. "A couple of strong young fellows like you, could fit right in with our needs here on Arcadis." "Ah no, no," Starbuck gently shook his head, "We weren't talking about us. We're talking about something that could meet your needs a lot more." "Jus' what in thunderation are ya yakkin' 'bout?" Hoss spoke up for the first time, taking another puff. "What you got?" "Why, an energizer, my good man," Starbuck smiled, giving all the salesmanship he could in his tone of voice. "Is that a fact?" Hoss lifted an eyebrow, "How much power?" "Oh, about...ten thousand kilons," Boomer said, putting the same effort in his voice too, "Enough to sustain more agro-operations through your longer night cycles then you could have asked for." "Ten thousand," Hoss almost whistled through the clenched hookah between his teeth. "And that sounds downright impressive t'me." But Winger was almost immediately shaking his chrome head. "Impressive, yes...but...I don't think it would fit into our immediate plans, Hoss." Starbuck was taken aback, "Ah, but sir, that's a little hard to believe. Practically every planet in this quadrant is always in need of more power." "Is that so?" Winger looked at him, unimpressed, "In that case, that gives you a lot of other places to make deals in, doesn't it?" "Not with an agro-community like New Corinth," Starbuck couldn't believe this was getting nowhere. "You have something that meets our needs best." "We're not the only agro-community in the quadrant," Winger eyed him with his cold robotic stare. "What? Didn't you know that?" Starbuck knew he had to do some quick thinking to explain that point, "The trouble is, none of the other agro-communities have as sterling a reputation as yours." "That's very reassuring to hear. However, Mr. Starbuck, I'm sorry but I'm afraid we have pretty much all the power we need at this time. The reason we have such a reputation is because we're in a boom period. Our economy is so good right now that we don't have to be too concerned about extending our night operations." "I don't get it," Boomer felt a rising sense of inner frustration, "You're turning us down just like that? You haven't even looked at the energizer, or read the literature on it to see how the unit compares to your existing systems?" "Mr. Boomer, I have already told you what I'm willing to trade you for our seed," the robot said coldly. "Take it or leave it." "I guess we'll be leaving it, then," Starbuck told the snobbish droid. "Nothing against you personally, Winger, but we're a pretty tight-knit family, and we do have to be on our way soon because our crops are in trouble. Even a short-term work contract would be too long a wait for us." "What a pity. Then I suggest you consider postponing our deal until another time." Bogan walked away from him. "Just a centon!" Boomer called out, "Couldn't we approach any of the individual farmers here to see if they're interested in dealing with us?" Winger turned back, "You're free to scout them all out, if you're willing to waste precious centons doing that, but it would take you more time to talk to them than it would to stay on in a work-contract here in New Corinth." And then, he and Hoss moved off to the back end of the Chancery, indicating that the conversation was over in every sense. "Felgercarb," Starbuck muttered, "What're we supposed to do now?" "Only thing we can do," Boomer's shoulders sagged, "Go back to the Commander and report. Maybe he'll have an idea of how we can change our strategy." ***** "You turned 'em down," Hoss whispered to his chrome-faced boss, "What'd you do a fool thing like that for? We could've really used that power." "But we need those two men even more," Winger said, "The next constable has to be either one of them." "They ain't gonna stay voluntarily. Know what that means? We don't got a new constable or the daggone energizer." "And that's where you come in, Hoss," Winger said wryly. "Organize your friends, get them ready to move, and within the next few centars...well, think of it as killing two avions with one stone." ***** The ride back toward the distant shuttle was for the most part, silent and glum for both Starbuck and Boomer. A quick rejection from the Arcadis officials was the last thing either of them had expected. "We've got about ten centons before we'll be back," Boomer finally broke the silence, "Got any thoughts on the best way to explain this to the Commander?" "Not a one," Starbuck said as he steered the sled through a passageway between two rocky hills, each no more then fifteen feet high. "Right now, I'm trying to think of how many ways a starving Fleet of people might want to boil us in oil if we come back empty handed." "You know Adama would never let that happen," Boomer said. "If they remain uncompromising, I wouldn't be surprised to see Adama call out a viper squadron and take what we need by force if it comes to that. Based on what I've seen, I don't think Arcadis cut any deal with the Cylons to keep that town of their's going. It seems pretty clear they've been able to stay sheltered from the Alliance's encroachments." "Not even the Commander would want to go that far," Starbuck dissented. "Starbuck, when you're talking about the ability of our entire population to survive, even desperate measures like that could be called for." Starbuck was about to reply, when suddenly both he and Boomer were blinded by a giant rope net plummeting over them from out of the darkness. And then, they could feel the force of at least three hefty men jumping on top of them as well, forcing him to stop the land sled, and then dragging the both of them off. "Hey!" Starbuck shouted as he clawed at the net, trying to catch a glimpse of his attackers. "Lousy gallmonging snitrods, what the frack are you doing?" There was no response as the three men threw Starbuck and Boomer on the ground, making sure they were both securely bound up in the rope net. Inside, the blonde warrior thrashed about trying to catch sight of them, but now he could tell that whoever they were, all three wore black hoods over their heads. Boomer finally managed to pull the net off first, but by the time he got to his feet, he could see the land sled receding into the distance. He thought for a micron of chasing after it on foot, but knew he'd never be able to catch up. "Goddamn dirty daggit waste!" Boomer wished he could think of a better insult, "Why don't you fight like men?" "Boomer, never mind them and get this frackin' thing off me!" Starbuck shouted from behind. Frustrated, the dark-skinned warrior came back and managed to pull free Starbuck from the crude rope net. "Frack!" the brash warrior got to his feet and then kicked the rock wall in frustration, "Frack, felgercarb and shit! What a time for us to get knocked over!" "Yeah, yeah," Boomer said, trembling with anger himself, "But there's no point talking about it. We've got a long walk ahead of us." "It's not that far back to town," Starbuck shook his head. "What do you mean, town?" Boomer asked with bewilderment. "We've got to tell the Commander what happened here, and let him decide what to do." "We aren't going to tell the Commander; you are,'" Starbuck said, seething over the indignity of what had happened. "I'm going back for the energizer, because I've got a pretty good idea who had us mugged." Light suddenly dawned on Boomer, "'Winger!" He smacked his fist into his hand. "Winger!" "Uh-huh," Starbuck nodded, "No wonder that two-legged bag of bolts wasn't anxious to talk about a trade." "His electronic brain must've told him it was more economical to steal an energizer than trade for one." Now Boomer was seething as well. "You're right. Go back there and see what you can do. I'm sure I can get the Commander and Apollo to come with me and give you some backup." "Boy, are they gonna be surprised when I show up," Starbuck managed a wicked grin as he started to walk back toward New Corinth, "I'm gonna give 'em the full Starbuck treatment!" ***** "Well?" Winger asked as he saw Hoss enter the Chancery. "We done good," the man in the ten-gallon hat grinned. "Hoooeeeee! We got us an energizer and a Landmule, boss." "Outstanding," Winger took out a money bag from his smoking jacket's pocket and tossed it into Hoss's outstretched hand. "That's fifty quantums worth of territorial oregg for you and each of your men." "I do appreciate it, sir," Hoss said as he stuffed the bag in his pocket. "They ain't gonna come lookin' fer us. We done covered our tracks up real good." "I would expect you to be so thorough," said the robot. "Excuse me." Both of them turned around, and Hoss froze when he saw a visibly angry Starbuck standing before them. Winger flashed his cold metallic eyes at the brash warrior. "Welcome back, Mr. Starbuck!" Starbuck smiled at the droid, but kept it unfriendly, "Well, you're pretty hospitable, Winger...for a droid. However, I'm afraid that some of the citizens you're responsible for as Head Coordinator aren't as friendly." "Why don't you tell me what happened?" Winger's synthesized voice made faking a concerned tone easy. Starbuck didn't need any more confirmation of what he already knew, "Did you see anyone come in here in the last centar or so?" "No," he shook his chrome-plated head, "But then, a lot of people come and go, often so fast we never get time to ask their names. Now, what, pray tell, makes you think it's any of our people who aren't...friendly, as you say?" "Oh, I've got my suspicions, all right," Starbuck gave him a pointed stare. "My friend and I were jumped outside town by muggers." "Muggers?" Like all droids, Winger was sphinx-like. "If that happened, young man, it could only have been done by strangers. I assure you, we do not put up with that manner of skullduggery here in New Corinth.." "I'm glad you don't." Starbuck now injected sarcasm into his tone. "Well sorry Winger, but given how close we were to New Corinth city limits when we got mugged, I'm afraid that the culprits could only be one of your nice friendly townsfolk. And since you're the ultimate authority here in town, that means you ought to be in a position to do something about that." "'scuse me," Hoss said nonchalantly, "Got me a dandy game to get back to." Starbuck glanced at him, convinced that the chief adjutant was one of the men who had attacked Boomer and him, but decided he needed to stay focused on Winger for now. "What about it, Winger?" he pressed. "Your accusation is serious, Mr. Starbuck. Are you prepared to back it up?" "Yes, in time." "Didn't you say the first time you were in here that you didn't have a lot of time?" "I'll have more if you speed things up," Starbuck increased the hostility in his tone, "Now how's about upholding the law?" "I'm not programmed for law enforcement," Winger shrugged. "That's a job handled by others. I'm only the Head Coordinator." Starbuck found that interesting. "All right, if you don't handle it, then who does?" "At the moment, no one," said the robot. "Ordinarily, I would refer you to the town constable, but...I'm afraid he's moved on, and the position is now vacant." "How convenient," the sarcasm increased in the blonde warrior's tone. "I know what you're thinking, Mr. Starbuck," Winger lowered the volume of his voice. "I'd be careful about taking the law into your own hands without being a duly appointed official. This is, after all, a small town," his photoreceptors wandered about the Chancery, "and the people here stick together. They don't care much for outsiders who have no stake in local matters. But if you were only willing to stay on for awhile, just a few sectars, you'd have a chance to acquaint yourself with the community and, I'm sure, find people willing to help you out." "I told you, I've got crops to get back to and a lot of mouths to feed!" Starbuck snapped. "So stop with the recruitment pitch, Winger." "You said your crops were blighted and that your people needed seed," Winger said matter-of-factly. "And there's an easy remedy for that. It's called money. Just pay for the seed and your troubles will be over." He put a hand to his metal chin. "Are you carrying any money?" Starbuck shook his head faintly and pulled out all the money in his hip pocket, "Well, I do have a lot of currency from our last crop sale. Different systems, but it's all hard money so that should make it good anywhere. No paper felgercarb for us." Winger looked over the numerous golden coins and ingots spread out on the table. "Orion checks, Narn bits, Centauri suzerainties," he noticed and then frowned, "and...why, these are Colonial cubits. How did you come by them?" Starbuck froze as he realized that Colonial currency might not be the norm in the outer extremities of the Colonial Frontier. Passing off Colonial currency ran as much risk as passing off an energizer with Colonial markings unless he came up with a quick explanation, and fast. "We do a lot of business with people whose activities take them all the way back to the Twelve Words theselves," Starbuck said, "And from our standpoint that kind of money has the most solid financial stability over any of the local territorial currency in this star system." "Very logical," Winger nodded, which indicated that he accepted that explanation without question, which made Starbuck sigh with relief inside. The Head Coordinator collected all of the currency and went over to a nearby exchange machine, which would calculate the total value. "Give me a micron here, and let's see what this comes out to." Starbuck looked at the machine's readout, which indicated 120. "Let's see," Winger said, "Seed goes for 12 quantums a lexon. That means what you have will get you exactly ten lexons of seed." "No good," Starbuck said, grateful that this society still used the normal Colonial term for grain measurements, "I need at least fifteen hundred. And if you want my opinion, 12 quantums sounds too damn expensive." "Unfortunately, that is the going rate," Winger said, "There are other agro-outposts that might give you a lower rate...but they're a long walk away." "No thank you," Starbuck said as he collected all of his money and stuffed it back in his pockets, "I think maybe I'll try to make this pile grow. After all, this is the Chancery." And Starbuck moved off toward the gaming tables and asked the men gathered there if he could play. "You sure can, boy," Hoss said. "Seein' how this jes' ain't your lucky night...why shucks, you're probably jes' what we need at this table." Hoss threw back his blocky head and laughed. Starbuck didn't. "Now whatever gave you the idea that it wasn't my lucky night?" Starbuck reached for the cards with a confidence that unexpectedly shook everyone's nerves. Starbuck expertly shuffled the cards and began to deal them. Winger was pleased. The young man had just walked into the next phase of the trap. ***** Chapter Thirty-Seven: Constable STarbuck "Now let's see how good you can take astral readings, Boxey," Apollo said as he held Boxey on his lap and pointed out the various features of the night sky. "A good viper pilot always knows exactly what something is when he sees it." Boxey raised his arm and pointed, "There's a big planet there that has to be a category...three?" "Actually, it's a Category two, Boxey," his father said gently and pointed to one further to the left in the night sky. "Now that one's a category three. You can always tell by the red swirling clouds. They indicate an unstable atmosphere. Right away, when a viper pilot sees that, he knows that's not a place he can set his ship down when he's in trouble." Boxey let out a slightly exasperated shrug. "Cheer up, kiddo," Apollo hugged him, "In no time at all, there won't be a single thing in the galaxy you won't be able to recognize. Because I know learning all this is going to come naturally to you." "I hope so," he said and then looked back at him, "Dad, when can we go back to the Galactica?" "Why do you ask? Are you getting homesick?" his father chuckled. "A little bit," Boxey looked about, "There's not much to see on this planet. It's kinda boring." "I know what you mean," Apollo said as he got up and put Boxey down. He led him by the hand back toward the shuttle. "But until Starbuck and Boomer come back with the seed, we have to stay here. So for now, what's say we head back and have a chat with your grandpa." Boxey glanced up at him, "Do I have to talk to his friend too?" Apollo kept smiling, "What do you think of her?" His son rolled his eyes. "I don't like her very much. She's crazy." His expression then grew concerned, "She's not going to become my grandma, is she?" His father didn't suppress his laughter, "No, Boxey, I don't think you'll ever have to worry about that." "Thank goodness," the relief in Boxey's voice was obvious. You and me both, Apollo thought wryly as he approached the shuttle. Jolly was standing guard outside. Adama and Brunhilde were clearly still inside, and Apollo didn't want to know what indignities the iress was subjecting him to now. He saw Adama emerge, his expression similar to an escapee from the grid barge. "I told Brunhilde I needed a breath of fresh air," he said as he stepped toward Apollo and Boxey. He then glanced down at his grandson and allowed himself his first genuine smile in a long time, "Are you enjoying yourself, Boxey?" "You betcha grandpa," the child shrugged his shoulders. "But it's not as exciting as the desert planet." "For which you should be grateful," Adama leaned down and kissed him, "Now you go play with Muffit, while I have a word with your father." As soon as Boxey was out of earshot, Adama let out a sigh of relief, "Lords, I feel as if I'll need to be sized up for a restraint suit before this is over." "Has she been speding all this time making advances on you?" "Oh, it's much worse than that," Adama said, "Between her coy enticings, she's been regaling me with endless, boring stories about our childhood, and how she knows how I must have 'really' felt about her, as she put it. And then, she starts remembering things I haven't brought to mind for well over fifty yahrens." He shook his head, "She's been without her usual share of spirits for quite a few centars, and I'm finding more how she's even more impossible to take when she gets closer to sobriety." "You could have avoided this," Apollo's tone became serious, "If only you'd let Starbuck and me search the Fleet for another cycle, I'm sure we could have found another energizer on another ship." "You're right, of course," Adama said. "But it was more than just a case of looking for a simple energizer. As Fleet Commander, I face a monolithtic responsibility to see to it that our people are well cared for on this journey to something we still haven't pinpointed a definite heading for. Were a food crisis to erupt for even so much as one cycle, the long-term consequences for my ability to lead become far more disastrous then having to suffer the indignity of Brunhilde at my shoulder for a short time." Apollo said. "Even so...I know how painful it is for you to have to humiliate yourself before someone like her. Even if it...does have its comical elements for the rest of us." "I'm sure you and Starbuck and everyone else have been laughing your sides off the whole while," his father sighed and then smiled weakly. "And in time when this is just a distant memory, I'll be able to look back on this and laugh at it myself. I can see why for people like you, having something to laugh at, even if it is at my expense, can almost be a needed catharsis after the trauma of the Cylon attack, the fire in the launch bay, and my severe injury." "That's a good way of putting it," his son nodded. "Once we get hold of the seed, how much longer do you have to keep up your promise to Brunhidle?" "Fortuntately for not too many more microns," his father said firmly, "And if Brunhilde wants to make a big deal of it then, so be it. I'll be in a position of not having to care any longer, and if it means she's going to complain to all her society friends about it, it's only going to make her look bad, not me." "Glad to see you're putting it all in perspective already." "Commander!" Jolly suddenly called over, "Boomer's coming back! On foot." Adama and Apollo both frowned at this. "On foot?" the commander said as they made their way back. "Oh Lords! Something's wrong, I can feel it," an edge of concern crept into Apollo's voice. When Boomer reached the camp, he was staggering and panting heavily after his long walk. "Boomer, what happened?" Apollo grabbed him by the arm. The dark-skinned warrior took a breath, "We got mugged." "Mugged?" Adama felt the urgency rising inside him, "Boomer, where's Starbuck?" "He went back to town to take care of some new...business." "What are you talking about?" the commander demanded, "Where's the seed?" Boomer braced himself, "Commander, there's no seed, and we've had both the Landmule and the energizer stolen out from under us by muggers." "What was that?" Belloby's shrill voice pierced the night as she dashed out of the shuttle. It seemed as if sobriety had been fully restored to her at last. "Did you let something happen to my beautiful energizer?" "Like I said, we were mugged." Boomer said, wishing he didn't have to deal with so many inquiring voices surrounding him. "You were mugged by whom?" Adama refused to let up. "I don't know, it all happened so fast...but Starbuck and I think it's possible the town's Head Coordinator hired a bunch of hoodlums to steal it after they wouldn't trade for seed." "Of all the stupid things I've ever seen in my life!" Belloby was clearly angry, "Adama, is this what you train those warriors of yours to do?" Boomer decided he wasn't going to be polite to someone like her, "Lady, if you think you can do any better unarmed with a net thrown over your head and three big lunks jumping up and down on you, be my guest!" "Settle down, settle down," Adama motioned his hands, determined to take charge of the situation. "Boomer, I'm sure you both did whatever you could, but the important thing now is to get to Starbuck. Now you said he went back to town?" "Yes." "If you're right and the colony leaders masterminded the theft, there's no telling what he might be going up against. We have to go now." Adama turned to Jolly, "Sergeant Jolly, you'll stay and guard the shuttle and look after Boxey as well. Apollo, Boomer, grab your lasers from the munitions locker on the shuttle. We must get to that town as fast as possible." "Well you're not going without me!" Brunhilde''s tone indicated this wasn't to be a subject for debate. "I paid good money for that energizer, and I'll be damned if I'm going to lose it to a bunch of dimwitted, equine-faced sodbusters!" "Father," Apollo cautioned, but Adama was shaking his head no, to indicate that he wasn't going to object to her presence. "We've got a long walk ahead of us." ***** As soon as Starbuck realized that Pyramid was the preferred game at the table where Hoss and several others were gathered, he felt as if he'd caught the luckiest break of his life. In a backwater community like this, there was no way the townspeople could recognize any of the systems he'd devised to con many an unsuspecting fellow pilot out of a pot. Systems that he knew would be useless against a truly professional gambler, but sure to suffice with this crowd. "Take it to heart, you guys," Starbuck said as he settled at the table. "You're in for the worst drubbing of your lives." Hoss only allowed himself a faint smile. It only took one hand to see what the young man was up to, and as far as he was concerned, that was going to make his job all the easier. Two centars went by, and Starbuck found himself slowly accumulating a large share of winnings. His bankroll of 120 that he'd started out with, had now grown to well over 900. He was still a long ways off from coming close to the amount he needed, but as far as the blonde warrior was concerned, it was quite a few steps in the right direction, and he had every intention of taking more. Through it all, Hoss didn't show any dissatisfaction over his mounting losses. Most of it was deliberate at this point, and he knew that if everything worked out, Winger would compensate him quite handsomely. "Feast your eyes on the big surprise, gents," Starbuck said with pride. "One perfect red Pyramid." "What kind of a gambler are you?" one of Dipper's compatriots, a brawny man named Blitzer said, "Nobody I know ever got a perfect Pyramid. And I've played against some of our local pros." "There's always a first time in every one's life, my friend," Starbuck said as he racked up his winnings. He knew this would put him well over 1500 in the bankroll at this point. Now he'd gone from 1% of the funds he needed to 10%. By morning, I intend to have enough. "Somethin' don't quite add up here, Mr. Starbuck," Hoss said as he took another puff on his hookah. "Didn't think a country boy fresh outta the farm could play such a dang good game o' Pyramid." "You didn't?" Starbuck smirked. "Something doesn't add up for me, either, Hoss. How is it you and your friends here, started out with the same amount of money to lose before you had to start digging deep into your pockets. Did you all work together some place?" he added the tiniest trace of accusation in the last sentence. "Don't I wish we did, Mr. Starbuck," Hoss said as he made his way over to the table after watching the proceedings, "We farm workers all receive the same compensation for the work we do." "Is that a fact?" Starbuck said, keeping that hint of accusation in his tone. "When we started two centars ago, everyone here had 50 quantums to begin with. If that's a routine wage for a few cycles harvest, you really must have one heck of a profit surplus in your town treasury." "I did say we were a prosperous agro-community, didn't I?" Winger looked down. "You still seem to be well-short of what you'd need for 1500 lexons. One thing does not compute, however: if you need that much seed, just how many people are you trying to feed? There's nothing in my memory banks about a settlement that would require that much." "Let me keep a few trade secrets of my own, if you will," Starbuck waved his hand and then looked around the table, "So are any of you clowns up for more punishment?" Hoss glanced up at Winger, who then faintly nodded his head. "Hate to say it, Mr. Starbuck," the adjutant rose. "Me an' my friends are plumb tuckered out right now. Some of us got wives that ain't gonna be so lovin' an' understandin' when they find out how much we've lost." "Which just goes to show you that marriage and Pyramid mix like tylium and water,"Starbuck kept grinning slyly. "Let that be a lesson." "We sure will," Hoss nodded, knowing what was coming now and glad that he could give way to Winger. He and the others moved over to the next table. "Looks as though you've run out of sources to draw more funds with," Winger noted. "Not necessarily," Starbuck said, "The night is still young, and there are plenty of others in this Chancery who I think I can persuade to part with their money after a few more hands." "Perhaps you'd like to try me," Winger sat down in the chair Hoss had just vacated. Starbuck started getting nervous. "What? Me..play you? But you're a droid. I mean...Kobol...it just wouldn't be a fair competition." "You think I'll beat you simply because I have a computerized brain?" said Winger. "Contrary to popular belief, droids can lose games as easily as humans. You have the same chance to clean me out as you did Hoss and his friends. Now, what do you say?" Starbuck's grin widened, "I say...deal yourself in!" ***** "Good Kobol, how much further do we have to keep walking?" In her annoyed, sober condition, Brunhilde's voice reminded Boomer of what scratching the edge of a nail over a metallic surface sounded like. "My feet are killing me!" "Up ahead," Boomer pointed, "We should be there in another half centar." "Hmmm. Looks as though it's further away than that, Boomer," Adama said as he squinted and then turned around. "There's your answer for why it seems closer then it is. That second moon's out again and shining full force." "I noticed that earlier," Apollo said. He turned, his face illuminated by the two moons above. His eyes locked on the moon which had the image of the mouse. Ripples of dust undulated tide-like in the light of the two glowing orbs. "The second moon has one of the fastest rotation cycles I've ever seen," he continued. One centar they're both out, the next centar, just one, and now they're both out again." "That's a most interesting phenomenon, but hardly one of great significance to us," Adama grunted. "Let's just keep moving and put our observations on hold for a while." ***** Two hands with Winger immediately resulted in two more winning pots for Starbuck. As the winnings continued to mount, the brash warrior decided it was safe to be openly smug. "Obviously, you were not programmed for gambling, Winger." "No, I wasn't," the robot said. "But I do insist upon one more hand." "All right," Starbuck dealt the first three cards. "Hover or build?" Winger glanced at them. A red and green Pyramid base and a blue capstone meant almost no chance of a winning hand. Which suited him just fine. "Hover," he said. Starbuck dealt his own cards and glanced at them, "I'll...build." He drew another card and saw to his satisfaction that he already had, as he'd predicted, a perfect half Pyramid with the same color capstone. "All right, now let's get down to business. You open." "Here are one hundred quantums," Winger deposited the coins on the table. "It works for me," Starbuck said as he then pushed the entire pot of his winnings into the center of the table. "And I'll raise you that much. So what's it gonna be, Winger? Match it or fold." "Hmmm," Winger looked at the table with a wry glance. Hoss had made his way back over to watch in, since he knew the big moment of truth was about to happen. "If I were able to match that, you'd almost be halfway to your total purchase price if you won, wouldn't you?" "Sure looks that way," Starbuck wished he'd brought a fumarello with him, since the desire to take a satisfied puff on one was filling every part of his body. "Even a droid that holds your position would be able to match that, wouldn't he, Winger?" The Head Coordinator let out a crude approximation of a chuckle, "Sometimes even Head Coordinators get caught with a scarcity of funds, Mr. Starbuck," he paused, "Like right now for instance." "Awww. Felgercarb." "But I'll tell you what," he set his cards down and reached into his smoking jacket pocket. "I might be able to compensate you by offering this as my payment." Starbuck looked down at the table and saw an elaborate carved triangular oregg shield with a smaller circle covering the top. "What is that thing?" "A good luck piece that belonged to someone who's moved on now," Winger didn't bat a plastic eyeball. "It is solid gold though." Starbuck absently picked it up and squinted at the tiny inscription, "I can't read this writing. What does it say?" "Nothing important. Just an old saying written in the tounge of a vanished race of beings who inhabited this world millions of yahrens before humans and droids colonized it," Winger said. "What does it mean?" The robot shrugged. "Sorry friend. Insufficient data." "Hmm," Starbuck held it in the palm of his hand, not noticing that most of the people in the Chancery now had their eyes trained on him. "Feels like oregg, but I hope you won't mind if I run it through your exchange table computer first?" "Oh, feel free. Feel free," Winger motioned. Starbuck went to the back of the room and dropped it in the container. His eyes then widened in amazement when he saw a value of 500 come up. "Whoa!" he said as he retrieved it, "This thing's thicker then I imagined. Gotta be pure oregg to get a value like that." "Then I've made an acceptable addtion to this pot?" Starbuck made his way back toward the table. "Yes, you have." ***** When the welcome sight of the domes of New Corinth came into view, Adama began to feel a bit of relief that they could soon start to take some action. "Commander," Boomer said, "I don't think it'd be a good idea to directly approach the Head Coordinator. If he's responsible for stealing the Landmule and the energizer, then his thugsmust have stashed it away somewhere for safekeeping." "Good point," Adama nodded, "Boomer, you and Apollo fan out and try to look for signs of the Landmule's tracks. Chances are, they haven't been hidden yet." The two warriors split up and began to search the different side streets that led away from the town square. Adama and Belloby remained in front of a structure at the point where the town limits ended. It differed from the other environs of new Corinth because it was a wooden structure, of spherical shape and triangular construction. Large bales of hay were piled up in front of the building. Adama avoided looking at the siress, wondering what she might say at this point to drive him crazy any further. But more than two centons passed before Brunhilde finally broke the silence. "They are going to find it, aren't they?" Adama kept looking ahead. "Don't underestimate my warriors, Brunhilde. You'd be surprised at what they can do in a crisis." "This time you're wrong, Adama. Because I know exactly where it is." Adama turned around and looked at her in dumbfounded amazement. "What did you say?" "I know where it is," she drew up to him, "And if you give me a kiss, I'll be glad to tell you." Adama's face darkened, "Brunhilde, I have neither time nor tolerance for bad jokes. My mind is on other things." For the first time, her expression changed to one that seemed totally normal. Her voice suddenly took on an aura of regret that surprised him completely. "I love it when you're angry. No one else has the nerve to raise their voice to me. Consider it a celebration for my hitting upon the energizer." She then impulsively threw her arms around him and kissed him. Adama tried not to do anything that would suggest an off-putting reaction, as his common sense told him that if she were truly being earnest, setting her against him would be an unforgivably asinine blunder. "There," she sighed, "I'm sorry I had to force you to do that...and everything else, Adama. I... guess suddenly now that I'm sobering up, things are beginning to seem a bit clearer to me about what's at stake for the Fleet." Adama could scarcely believe this sudden change of attitude. Was it all genuine, or was it just another put-on, designed to get him to lower his guard for later? Either way, he knew he had no choice but to treat it as though it were the former. "Well now, Brunhilde," he said reassuringly. "There's...no need for you to be hard on yourself." "I've got to be, I've got to be," she waved her hand, "I'd...be lying if I denied that I've gotten a lot of pleasure out of our time together, but...if I ended up insulting your sense of fragility, being so soon after you lost your wife, then I apologize for that too." "Brunhilde," he said gently, "I appreciate what you're saying. And...I'm sure we can talk some more about it, but...time is of the essence. Where is the energizer?" Brunhilde smiled, "Why' you're practically standing on it, darling." "Could you repeat that?" he frowned. "While you sent those professional warriors of yours off into the side streets without checking the ground in front of you, I noticed the Landmule's tracks leading straight to the shed right behind us." She motioned her hand. Adama looked at the geodesic wooden building they stood in front of and then saw the distinct lines as well. And he could also see more clearly how the bales of straw had been stacked in a hasty fashion, as if to conceal something. Feeling as though he were in seventh heaven, he grabbed her and kissed her on the lips before running off to get Apollo and Boomer. And leaving Brunhilde with the feeling that maybe her change in tactics would finally lead to some true rewards. A half centon later, the three men had returned. "Boomer, use any means necessary to get that shed open. And make sure it stays secure. If anyone so much as tries to get past you, you're to shoot him down." "Will do," Boomer said. "And now that you've got the energizer back, you might want to pay a visit to the Chancery. That's probably where Winger and his cronies are hiding." "We'll do that." Adama motioned to Apollo and Belloby, "Let's go." As the three of them approached the Chancery, Apollo muttered, "How very Colonial. Everything else closes at this centon but the friendly neighborhood vice den is the only place that stays open. "I hope so," Adama said. "In addition to finding our thieves, we may also find the local law enforcer." ***** "There you go," Starbuck grinned as he set his cards down. "Can you beat that, Winger?" The Head Coordinator threw down his cards. "Sadly no, Mr. Starbuck." "Which makes this pile all mine," Starbuck said as he pulled the pile of winnings, including the gold shield toward him. Upon emptying the coins into his money bag, he couldn't help but pick up the shield again and admire its detail. "Congratulations, Constable Starbuck," Wiinger rose and patted him on the shoulder with a metal hand. "Huh?" Starbuck frowned, "Ah, Winger...what are you talking about?" There was no response, as Winger had walked away to the other side of the room, just in time to see Adama, Apollo and Brunhilde enter. Adama immediately approached Hoss, who was standing closest to the entrance. "I demand to see who's in charge here!" "Then you wanna see Head Coordinator Winger," Hoss motioned, "An' here he comes now." "Yes," Winger came up to them. The reflections of the overhead lights on his chrome skull were so bright that it actually hurt Brunhilde's eyes to look at him. "What can I do for you, stranger?" "I'm the Baron Adama, Supreme Bishop of Actavaea," Adama found himself dipping back into an old book he'd read in childhood to come up with his phony title, "I've just recovered some stolen property of mine and therefore must speak to whoever is in charge of law enforcement in New Corinth." "Right over there in front of you. Meet our new town constable." The crowds parted like an honor guard, and Adama, Apollo and Brunhilde were stunned to see the droid pointing a metallic finger at Starbuck, who was still fingering the shield. Adama took two steps forward and with the veins throbbing visibly in his forehead, came up to within a foot of where Starbuck was sitting. The warrior's back was still to the commander. "Constable Starbuck?!!" he said in a loud, angry tone of voice. As soon as Starbuck heard the familiar voice, the meaning of the shield suddenly hit him, and he began to slowly sink in his chair while turning the deepest shade of red imaginable. ***** Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Crazy Fix Twenty centons later, they had retreated to the jail, where a deeply embarrassed Starbuck had forced himself to sit down behind the desk that went with his office. Adama stood in front of him, glaring at him with more anger then Starbuck had ever seen in his life. "Will you answer me something I've never understood about you, in all the yahrens I've known you, Starbuck?" Adama was through holding in his emotions at this point. Things had finally reached a boiling point for him. "Just HOW do you get yourself into these crazy fixes?" he was practically bellowing, "In the last sectar alone, I've had to put up with you losing a recon viper because you let a beautiful bootlegger and a cache of ambrosia distract you, and then it was finding out you tampered with the computer to get yourself on the Equis mission. And now THIS?" Starbuck had always wondered if a day would come when his good fortune would come to an end and he'd have to face the full fury of Adama as he'd never seen it before. Now it had happened, and it was everything he'd always been afraid of. "I was only trying to get a lead on the guys that mugged us," he said, desperate to justify his misspent time. "Is that so?" Adama refused to grant him a respite. "Naturally, you just expected to find them in a card game. Where else would someone with your vices think they'd be? I suppose the next place you would have looked would have been the local fumarello dealer!" "Commander," Starbuck protested weakly, "My number one suspect, that guy in the ten-gallon hat, Hoss, was in a card game at the time. I thought maybe I could catch him with his guard down, and even if I didn't, I'd give us a cash infusion that could help us buy the seed anyway." "In other words you found a way to combine business with pleasure. But look what happened," he pointed at him. "You've got a badge you have no right to wear. You cost us precious time in our ability to prevent famine from breaking out. Who knows how many lives may be lost in the end!" "You tell him, Adama!" Brunhilde said from the other side of the room, her hands on her hips. "These warriors of yours are hopless basket cases." Before Adama could offer a retort demanding she keep her mouth shut, the door opened and Winger entered. "On behalf of our humble town, Constable, I bid you welcome to your new office," he said. "Pity there won't be enough time for you to settle in." "Coordinator Winger," Adama came up to him and dropped his voice to a normal tone, "You appear to be a reasonable droid..." "I'm programmed to be so," Winger said, "In fact, I'm prepared to offer my full apology for the incident involving the loss of your energizer, which I understand you've now recovered. I'm sure that your friend, now that he's constable, will see to it that the town issues a proper endorsement for the inconvenience you suffered." "That's beside the point, Winger," Adama said, "This...boy, could hardly be of use to you as your constable, but he's needed with me. I can ill afford to lose even so much as one hand after the loss of our crop." "I feel sorry for you, Baron," Winger said. "We face a similar problem ourselves." "Good. Then you understand my position," the commander smiled. "Now, if you'll just accept his resignation, we'll be on our way." "Quite impossible, Baron," Winger shook his steel head. "That's against the law. In New Corinth, the position of constable has always been a lifetime appointment." "That's idiotic!" Adama spluttered, "You only just met this boy. He never was appointed!" "Nevertheless, he accepted the badge of office," Winger said. "And in so doing, he accepted all the responsibility that goes with it." From outside, they could hear the pounding of feet, and then the door swung open to reveal a slightly irritated Apollo. "Father, I think you'd better come with me to the shed," his tone was urgent. And then, he pointed at Starbuck, "And you too, Constable, since you're the law in this town." ***** Boomer stood by the shed doors he'd blown open with his hand laser. Winger, Adama, Brunhilde, Apollo and Starbuck arrived and looked inside. "There it is, just like I thought," Brunhilde said. "My energizer." "Our energizer," Adama corrected. "Coordinator Winger, it's all beginning to make sense now. This was stolen from us to keep us here so you could rig a card game and trick my man into accepting that badge." "My, my...Those are harsh words. I hope you can prove them. We have laws about such things, you know," said the droid. "We can." Adama called out to Boomer. "Coming right up." Boomer entered the shed where Apollo, Brunhilde, Starbuck, and Adama had been standing bearing a hand-held sensor probe-lantern. "Focus the lantern's beam on the sled and let's see what we have." A bright green light suddenly emitted from the lantern "Concentrate on the driver's side," Apollo instructed. Boomer pressed a circuit button on the lanter. "I'm narrowing the sensor range to identifying the occupants' species, determining what sort of living being had his hands and feet on those pedals." He checked the indicators. "No doubt about it... Human..." "Amplify the lantern to tracer mode so we can get this over with," Apollo said. Boomer tapped another switch and suddenly flourescent traces of hand and footprints glowed all over the shed leading away from the Landmule. Adama glared malevolently at Winger. "Like following a baby's cry," Starbuck declared. "What I wouldn'tve have given to have had a thing like that on hand for the times pirates jumped my work force," Brunhilde said. "I couldn't prove anything, but I always suspected half my own crew." "This leaves no room for doubt, Coordinator Winger," Adama said. "Strap on your lasers, boys..." Winger's electronic eyes flashed. "Look... if I may concede that you will find the culprits in the Chancery, take my advice... Forget them. And I suggest you depart this planet very soon, otherwise you'll be in as much at risk as we are." "Forget them?" Adama said. "Leave this planet?" "Didn't you notice the moons when you entered our city limits?" He pointed a metallic finger at the moons as they rose up over the buildings, the mouse moon's light brilliant against the curved tip of the concrete dome that housed the Chancery. "It's almost time." "I don't understand," Adama cried. "Almost time...for what? And what are we at risk for? Brunhilde, you wait here with Boomer in case there's trouble inside." ***** Apollo, Starbuck, Adama and Winger entered the chancery, stopping short in their tracks. Things had changed since Starbuck played that crooked Pyramid game. People were hurriedly piling tables and chairs in front of the windows, and at the back doors. Starbuck and Apollo exchanged looks. "Musta' thought we'd come in with our lasers blazing," the blonde warrior said. "It isn't you they're expecting," said the droid. "Talk some sense, Winger, because you're not making any!" Starbuck said angrily. "Very well. You humans always think you have a right to the truth anyway." Tthis time it was clear that the Head Coordinator planned to level with them. "The fact is that Arcadis is on the verge of becoming an endangered colony. It's been that way for almost a yahren now, ever since the Dorays who roam the land found it was easier to steal food than grow it themselves." Dorays. At the mention of the name, Adama wrinkled his nose in disgust. He'd heard too many horror stories about those smelly disgusting creatures who wore masks. "Are they numerous here?" he asked. "Very. They're a herd species, Baron. They stay close together and do everything their leader does. And a yahren ago, a female Doray named Warbride became their chieftain, and she started this whole campaign of pillaging and plundering every time both moons are out and full." Adama's eyes narrowed, "And tonight...is such a night for that?" "Exactly," Winger nodded, "We already had one rampage earlier this evening, which is when our last constable, Cardigan, met his demise. And now...because we're facing a longer than usual night cycle because of the solstice shift, we could end up seeing something that's really rare. Two rampages in the same night because when one of the moons disappears and comes back, those primitive minds think a full cycle has passed." "If they're rampaging, you should be able to organize your people to get rid of the slimy scum," Apollo chimed in. The Head Coordinator chuckled mirthlessly at him, "That's easier said then done. Or, didn't you take note of the vintage weapons that line the wall of the constable's office?" Starbuck and Adama turned around and frowned, "Ancient numo sticks? We thought those were only for decoration. Have you have no other source of weaponry?" "Unfortunately, we don't," Winger said, "Laser ammunition is but a distant memory in our society. We were so prosperous for so many hundreds of yahrens that it got to a point where we didn't think we needed to keep weapons like that any longer. Because of that, we don't have the means to just match those flintlock muskets they use." "Then how do you handle the problem?" Starbuck asked, "And why does my position matter so much in the equation?" "You have to understand how Warbride operates," Winger answered, "If we leave our food bins unattended, then they pillage all the grain and crop seed they can get their hands on, but the town itself stays unmolested. Our people stay safe, but we start losing so much of our hard-earned crop and our ability to survive. On the other hand, if the food bins are locked up tight, then next inclination of her male underlings is to go into town for a drink or...whatever else they fancy. "So now we face the problem of either letting them steal our food or molest the town and perhaps steal a few of our women. If we can't afford the former, then there's only one way we can prevent the latter from happening. That's having the constable stand at the head of the street that leads into town square, and make a few well-placed shots with his badge shining prominently on his tunic. It...has a way of keeping them in check, because they have myths and superstitions about signs and symbols. The two moons in the night are a symbol to them, and so too is the constable's badge. That's why one man wearing that badge can ultimately make a bigger impact then a whole group of people with no badge standing with arms to block their path." "But evidently, the last constable who tried to do that didn't do a good job, right?" Starbuck noted caustically. "That's what you meant when you said the last constable had moved on: he died in office." "Likewise his two predecessors." Winger said pointedly. "The occupational risk is that with all those Dorays charging in on equines with their muskets raised, the chance is always for one or two of them, even after Warbride turns back and leads them away, to fire their muskets at an open target like the constable usually is. But because it's the badge they respect, not the individual man, it doesn't matter even if they know they killed the last one. So long as someone is there with that badge to head the leader off, then most of them will stay clear and not pillage the town." He shook his chrome head, "But lately, we haven't been able to prevent that. And because of that, more people then just the last three constables have been killed as a consequence." "Commander," Starbuck looked at Adama, feeling as though he were walking a tightrope between anger and illness, "I request permission to execute at least one of my duties as Town Constable." "Be brief," Adama said flatly. Starbuck, who now had the sensor probe-lantern, headed directly for Hoss, who seemed less intimidating now that he was crouching down behind a table at a point where he can get a narrow look at the street outside. He focused the lantern beam on Hoss' hands, and sure enough the telltale fluorescent light shined like an exploding star on the heavyset man's palms, proving him the guilty party in the Landmule's theft. "Get up!" Starbuck ordered, pulling Hoss with all his might out from under the table. "Get your astrum up!" "Huh?" said a dumbfound Hoss. "Whatchoo think yer... "You're under arrest, Hoss. And I'm charging you with aggravated robbery!" Suddenly the Chancery seemed to be shaking. Not from something close at hand but something far off in the distance... like an earthquake. Winger rushed over. "Men... Men... please. This is no time for law and order. Take cover... quickly! The moon is almost high. All except you, Starbuck. You'd better get out there in the street. "He'll do no such thing, Coordinator," Adama stood firm, unwavering. "I suppose you want a dead town on your conscience?" Winger said. "Coordinator Winger," Adama decided he had reached another boiling point. "We came to your community in friendship, in the hope of obtaining a mutually beneficial trade, and you have treated us with theft, and now treachery to serve your community's ends. I do not rate people who operate that way very highly, and when I find myself the victim of such deviant behavior, I can, will, must and shall use whatever means are at my disposal to put right those injustices!" Winger stared at him for a long centon, and while the Coordinator tried to remain impassive, the droid was clearly unsettled by Adama's words. "My sensors tell me you mean that as a threat, Baron," Winger said. "I trust you're prepared to physically back up your bellicose rhetoric." "If need I must," Adama said coldly, "But a simple rectification of outstanding issues goes a lot further with me, than does wanting to make good on such threats." "I'm sure it would," the droid said with resignation. "All right, Baron. You win. If the boy means that much to you, well...you seem like nice enough people. You can have him back. Even if it means you're putting a great many of us at risk by not letting us have someone serving as constable." "There's other people you can appoint, surely." "It's not that simple, sir," Winger said. "No one else in town wants the job. Hence our rigged card games." "Winger, I sympathize with the problem you face, "Adama said, "but you have to find a new solution to your problem better than what you've been doing." "If only my computerized brain could come up with one, Baron," Winger's tone was sincere, "Anything else would be better, it's just that...there are no other alternatives available." The rumbling outside grew louder and the shaking increased in power and strength. A "wheel of fortune" was jimmied off of its hub and fell to the floor with a loud bang. "It's time," Winger said. "They're almost here. Lights out, everyone." From somewhere in the room, one of the men tapped a button and the Chancery was plunged into darkness. "Father," Apollo spoke up, "If what Winger said about them snatching women off the streets is true..." Adama suddenly remembered that Brunhilde and Boomer were out there, alone. He shook his head in disgust. Clearly, New Corinth's problem had just become his problem. "Winger," Adama addressed the droid, who was mostly concealed by the darkness, save for the glow of the lights in his plastic eyes, "perhaps it would be best if you'd let my boys and I take care of this." "Very well then," Winger replied. "But get out there quickly or there'll be no stopping them." Starbuck shouted to the men who concealed themselves underneath the gambling tables. "You, you and you... on your feet! You're going out there with us!" Starbuck shoved his laser into Hoss' ribs and the trio reluctantly rose up and moved out. Apollo, Starbuck and Adama, with their prisoners, charged for the door. Winger raised the volume of his voice synthesizer and called after them: "If I may suggest taking a stand at the edge of town... A few shots over their heads will generally discourage the majority of them. The rest... ," he watched as they exited, "you'll have to find out on your own." ***** Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Stand In the street, Adama, Brunhilde and and Apollo are looking off into the distance. Boomer discreetly kept his distance, but with his laser pistol now drawn. "What in Hades is it? It sounds like a deep earth tremor," said Brunhilde. "You can see for yourself, Siress," Apollo motioned. "A whole herd of Dorays coming this way. They'll be after the food storage bins and probably keep going even after they've fully loaded their packs." "Oh come on!" Brunhilde became blaise again, as if she'd somehow been nipping hard liquor even though her nearest ambrosa bottle was back at the fleet, light-yahrens away. "One herd of Dorays? That's nothing to worry about." The Commander turned around and grabbed her by the arm, "Brunhilde, get back in the jail and hide in a dark corner. It's not safe for you to be out here." "Father, I suggest you go with her while we take a stand at the edge of town," Apollo chimed in. "No," Adama replied. "I've got to be there beside you." Starbuck came rushing out of the jailhouse with Boomer and their three prisoners, each of them carrying a numo stick "Negative," Starbuck bellowed. "Until I go home with the baron, I'm still Constable of this town. So I'm ordering all of you civilians back inside. The jail looks safe." "Starbuck, what are you talking about?" asked with concern. "We're all in this together. Adama's orders." The rumble and roaring was getting louder. "If the badge impresses them," Starbuck replied, "then I've got to get in front of you guys. Winger said they're a herd, and if I can turn one, I should be able to turn 'em all." "And get yourself killed in the process," Apollo pointed out. "The more of us they see out there the less likely they'll ride over us." "He's right," Adama shouted. "We'll take up positions at the edge of town. Quickly!" Suddenly the four men were running. But Brunhilde simply would not leave. "Dammit Adama! I refuse to cower on the floor like some infant daggit!" "I have so ordered it, Brunhilde!" he said angrily. The men continue on up the street. Brunhilde mumbled an oath under her, indignant about having been talked down to, and headed for the jail building. ***** The leather-clad Dorays rode thirty strong on the road, the hooves of their mounts kicking up clouds of thick dust on the road. The thunder and fury in their beady little eyes was noticeable, even through the narrow slits of the multistriped warrior masks that afforded partial coverage of their horrifying pig-like faces. The most repulsive-looking of them all was the female creature in the lead, the chieftain Warbride, distinguishable from the others by her filthy long hair, voluptuous shapely body, the furs covering her breasts and nether regions, and her mask with alternating stripes of ebony and shiny gold. ***** The four warriors stood two metrons apart across the main street, their weapons drawn. Stoically, they moved down the line to see the the fierce determination in the Dorays' eyes. There was a cloud of dust and the gutteral and loud shouting of curses and oaths. Dorays were a barbarian species well-known to the Colonies, but it had been many yahrens since Adama had seen one of them. They were just as repugnant as he remembered them. The one thing that struck him as so ironic, was that despite their appearance, they were not devoid of intelligence, and could even be communicated with over a simple Languatron. The ground began to shake around the four Galacticans. "Lord, there's a lot of them," Apollo said with a little fear in his voice. Adama kept his voice low. "We'll fire in the air first. Boomer, you get on Starbuck's right flank, Apollo on the left." They took up position, with Starbuck remaining at the center, and in front of them. "Everyone raise weapons," Adama softly ordered. "Now!" Each of the warriors fired one shot into the air, but they didn't stop coming. Within a matter of microns, the herd had begun to approach toward the heart of town, where the four warriors stood. "Holy Frack," Starbuck whispered in horror, "It feels like they could shake us to death." "Keep firing!" Adama ordered. This time, they fired two shots each from their lasers. It caused the pack to stop briefly, but from the lead equine, Warbride held her musket above her head with her left arm and they resumed their charge. "They're still coming!" Apollo warned. "Doesn't that wench know when to give up?" "This time in front of them!" Adama barked. Another barrage of laser fire was unleashed toward them, but it still didn't slow them down. "Duty calls, friends," Starbuck said to Apollo, as if finally accepting that he was likely to share the same fate as the previous constables. "I'm going to start firing this numo stick at them." But Apollo stopped him before he could aim the long barrel of the antiquated and inefficient weapon. "Wait!" Warbride suddenly swung her loping animal and veered off and away from the main street. Boomer jumped up in the air and shouted a bold "YaaaaHooooo!" Adama smiled triumphantly "We did it!" "Not yet," said Winger, emerging from the Chancery, his chrome skull glinting in the light of the double moons. "That was the easy part." Apollo said, "There's a harder part?" When Starbuck remembered what that was, he was set on the edge of panic. "Oh my God! The storage bins!" "All right then," said Adama, "let's get over there before they finish grabbing everything they can tote and head back to town for more diversionary appetites." ***** The food bins were swarming with Dorays filling their black cloth sacks and then tossing them out to their fellow tribesmen on their animals. It was swift and efficient and the noise was more subdued than before. Suddenly the stealing was over and it was time to ride again. ***** "At least it sounds like its over, Boomer said as the four of them came up the street toward the food bins. "Over? You kiddin' me?" said Hoss as he came up alongside them. "They's just gittin' warmed up. See, once they've had their vittles, they get real brave and lusty." ***** After Adama shouted, "Fire in front of them! Now!" and the warriors began to fire, they ignited a bonfire on the ground in front of the Dorays. Yet they rode around the fire and continued to forge ahead. There was more laser fire. Finally, as they reached a point less than a hundred metrons away, they slowed and stopped. Warbride held up her hand in confusion. "Hold it... they've stopped," Apollo whispered. Warbride's senses reeled in confusion. She grunted something to the others. "I don't think they've ever seen laser fire," observed Apollo. "Think we'd better drop one to let 'em know what it can do," recommended Starbuck. Adama shook his head. "No. Try not to start something we can't finish. If they want to start firing their muskets... There're just too many of them." Warbride let out a last cry of triumph then turned her mount back to face the Galacticans and charged at them amidst a frightening din of chants. "Now what?" said an unnerved Starbuck. "Stand your ground for as long as possible... then take shelter," instructed Adama. They began to fire into the air, even as the horde continued in. Suddenly the warriors jumped back to each side of the street. The horde cocked back the hammers of their muskets and began firing, the lead balls ricocheting off the buildings around the ducking warriors. "They're still not stopping," complained Apollo. Adama broke into a smile. "Remember son, even herd animals have their pride. They had to show us their courage and..." Suddenly, they saw above them, the door the jail open and Brunhilde defiantly charge out and into the street wielding one of the numo sticks. "If you've killed my Adama, I'll show you, you miserable fuzz-faced... Ahhh." One of the Doray males leaned out the saddle, or whatever camouflaged thing he and his fellow creatures perched on, and swept Brunhilde up into his power, leather-encased arm and continued riding up the street. Adama emerged from his hiding spots just in time to see the last of the herd, with Brunhilde clinging to the Doray that had taken her, disappearing into the night, his chants growing dimmer and dimmer. He shook his head in bewildered incredulity. Oh, what terrible things he'd been thinking about Brunhilde. But then, did he want to see this happen to her or anyone else? Of course not. Besides, it only compounded the difficult situation he already faced again. "Your orders, Commander?" Boomer spoke up, climbing up out of the trash dumpster he'd been hiding in, brushing fruit rinds off his shoulders. "As of now, this has become a fact-finding mission," he said with determination. "Follow!" He led them back into the Town Square, where the lights were still off and the streets deserted. "Winger!" he called out, "Coordinator Winger!" Finally, the lights in the Chancery winked back on, and Winger emerged, followed by Hoss and two more of the townspeople. "My good men..."Winger's raised voice almost made him sound like a Cylon. "Never have we witnessed such bravery. Do you realize what's happened here this day? We did not lose one single citizen. Ordinarily the muskets take a disheartening toll before their foul work is done." Hoss took off his white ten-gallon hat and scratched his head. "At least they didn't git none o' our women folk," he muttered. "Let us speak no more of it!" commanded the droid. "Tonight we're delivered." "No...Tell me... These women... What exactly happens to them?" Adama pleaded his question at the same time he asked it. "You don't want to know," said Winger. "Come, let's celebrate our good fortune." "I'm afraid we can't do that, Coordinator Winger," Apollo placed his hands on his hips, visibly angry with the droid. "We've just lost one of our people." "But when..." began Winger reluctantly, "...there were only four of you out there... and when we ran out and saw the Dorays running for their lives..." "They had our woman with them," Adama didn't know how else to describe her. "Oh, my lord... No..." Winger said with concern. "You galoots ain't got nobody to blame for that but yourselves," Hoss scowled, slapping on his hat. "Best you git roarin' drunk with the rest o' us an' put it outta your minds." Starbuck and Boomer moved up. "Did I hear right? They grabbed Brunhilde?" Starbuck said with a frown. Boomer was a little puzzled. "I thought she was tucked away safely inside the jail." "Father..." Apollo patted his father on the back. "Don't listen to that guy. There's no one to blame." Adama's eyes fell to the ground. "No... Of course there isn't." "That's right," Boomer supplied. "If she'd done what she was told..." "For all practical purposes, we were at war with those masked snitrods," Starbuck said grimly. "We had to expect casualties. As it was we got off lucky." "Very lucky," Apollo said. "Yes," Adama said weakly. "How very sensible," the droid nodded. "All right, everyone... into my Chancery. I can't drink myself, obviously, but...the refreshments are on me." Another cheer went up and the street quickly cleared out...except for Adama, Boomer, Apollo, and Starbuck who stood crestfallen, their heads studying the ground. Not one of them up to discussing the inevitable. Winger looked back and stepped out of the entryway to the Chancery and moved back to the four warriors. There was a moment of silent communication. "You're not ordinary farmers. In fact, there's only one legendary brigade in the universe that could match the courage I just witnessed." Adama tensed slightly, not knowing what this might mean. "I'm honored to be able to say I've stood in the presence of Warriors from the Great Colonies." Adama wondered for a micron if he should level with him. But it seemed evident that Winger and the planet Arcadis had no connection with any Cylon forces that might have intruded close to the quadrant, so he could feel safe for now. "On behalf of the planet Arcadis and the township of New Corinth, I offer my most sincere apologies for the deceptions perpetrated upon you and your people," said the droid. "If you've come wanting new seed, it can only be for the greater good of serving the Colonial Nation." He paused, "However you resolve this situation with the Dorays, I can assure you of giving you everything you possibly need." "Thank you," Adama said, "For now though, our problem is finding out where the Dorays camp. We need to locate where they are so we can get our woman back." "The Dorays live in the canyon and there's one path from town that leads to it. I can point that out to you, but as far as finding the camp itself, I'm afraid I lack the necessary data to pinpoint that for you." "I see," Adama said grimly, "So where does that leave us then?" "Father, wait," Apollo snapped his fingers, "I think I know how we can track down where their camp is. But it'll mean a trip back to the shuttle first." Adama looked at him, "Then take the Landmule and get back there as quickly as possible!" ***** Chapter Forty: The Rescue Of Brunhilde Far away, there was an air of restiveness aboard the Galactica's bridge. Colonel Tigh had spent the better part of a centar pacing back and forth, wondering when some word would finally come in that the mission objective had been fulfilled. For the tenth time in the last centar, he made his way over to Athena's station. The expression on the Commander's daughter was enough to tell him that the situation had not changed. "What do you suppose happened to them, Colonel?" she said aloud, "They've had more then enough time to get the seed if all went well." "I know," Tigh nodded, "But it seems like we're just going to have to wait it out a little longer." He then moved over to Omega's station. "Omega, how much longer will we stay in normal shuttle range of Arcadis?" The Bridge Officer made the computations on his screen, "Another thirty centars, Colonel. After that, only a viper could get back there." "And with our three top flyers in Blue Squadron taking part in this mission, that spreads our ranks too thin to send more pilots back to look for them, if it comes to that." An air of tension entered the executive Officer's voice, "I hope it doesn't have to come to that." ***** "Come on Jolly, don't you want to play another hand?" The portly sergeant tried not to yawn. For the last several centars, he'd played one hand of Pyramid after another with Boxey to pass the time and it was becoming clear to Jolly that the little boy had been learning too much about the game from Starbuck. Which meant that for him, there was no pleasure to be found in it whatsoever. "I...think I need a little time off from all this, Boxey," Jolly got to his feet. "What say we step outside?" "Had enough?" he grinned crookedly at him. "Yeah, I surrender, I surrender," Jolly held up his hands. "You're unbeatable, Boxey." "Don't forget that when we get back you owe me five mushies!" "I won't forget," his head then perked as he heard a sound, "I think your father's back, Boxey." "Yayyy!" Boxey said. "Maybe I can go home now." But when Apollo stepped off the land sled alone, it was clear to both the warrior and the little boy that going home wouldn't be taking place anytime soon. "Boxey," Apollo said as he came up to his son, "You know how smart a daggit Muffit is, don't you?" "Sure," the little boy said, "There's no one smarter." "That's why your grandfather and I need him now. Without Muffit, we won't be able to make the mission succeed." "Really?" Boxey's interest was piqued, "What does he need to do?" "Muffit's got sensors inside him that can let him find people when we don't know where they are. That's why we need him. So you don't mind if we borrow Muffit for the next few centars, do you?" "I'll ask him," Boxey turned to his pet, "Muffit, do you want to help us go home?" The daggit let out an approving nod. Apollo laughed and picked up the daggit, "Then come on Muffit, we've got some work for you to do." He turned around and gave his son one last grin, "We'll be back before you know it! ***** When Apollo returned to New Corinth twenty centons later, he wasted little time. "You got that piece of Brunhilde's cloak that fell off when the Doray snatched her?" Apollo asked. "Right here," Starbuck handed it to him. "Okay," he held it up under the daggit's metal nose, which had been programmed with the same sense of smell that a real daggit had. "Okay, Muffit. Use this and your tracking sensors to find Brunhilde. Got that? Find Brunhilde!" "We'll be happy to give y'all any extra numos we got, if you need 'em," Hoss said as the warriors loaded themselves into the Landmule. Already, Muffit was beginning to move down the path that led into the canyon. "I know they ain't as good them lasers you carry, but---" "We appreciate your kind offer, Mr. Hoss," Adama said, "But I doubt very seriously they will be useful to us." Winger nodded, "Whatever you think best. Our hopes and prayers go with you," the droid said. "And to the woman you love." Adama tried not to let a sour expression come over him as he motioned Starbuck to start up the Landmule. A micron later, it had begun following the robot daggit into the canyon. Ten centons went by as the vehicle made its way deeper and deeper into the canyon, always maintaining a slow enough speed so Muffit could stay ahead of them. "The only other clue WInger could give us is that the Dorays often do a lot of chanting and carrying on after a raiding party. If we get close to them, we should be able to hear them." Apollo glanced up at the rock formations that rose fifteen feet above the canyon surface. "Father," he said, "I think they've been watching us now for a centon." Up on the high cliffs Apollo spied a masked Doray peering around a rock. His musket was poised, but he was not moving. Despite that, the men rode on. "What're they waiting for?" Starbuck was feeling a little bit belligerent now. "If they want a fight, let's get it over with." "They're wary of our weapons," Adama explained. "But we're also riding directly into their stronghold," Apollo pointed out. "Even without those muskets, they've plenty of time to just overwhelm us by sheer numbers." "Great plan, Captain," Starbuck griped. "If you've got anything else up your sleeve, let me know." Several more centons went by, and suddenly the robot daggit came to a stop and began to motion its head up and down. Starbuck immediately stopped the Landmule and the four of them got out. "Break out the luminators," Adama motioned. Boomer reached into the back of the sled and removed them, handing one to Apollo, and keeping the other one. "Look at that," Starbuck pointed at Muffit, who was now perched in front of a large opening in the rock face, "He says it's through that cave there." They followed the daggit in. The light from the luminators managed to pierce the oppressive darkness and keep the path clear for them to continue. "The key is their leader, Warbride," Apollo noted, "Maybe if we could reason with her, it could have a chain reaction on the rest of the Dorays. They'd follow her lead and not scavenge any longer." "Correct," Adama nodded. "She's the one all right. If she weren't so lazy, the Dorays wouldn't have started stealing their food." They proceeded another thirty metrones through the cave and emerged out into the night air, when Boomer's illuminator suddenly revealed a large group of Dorays just ahead, gathered around a fire. Their masks were off, affording them a full view of their piglike hairy faces. "Commander, look!" he pointed. "I see," the Commander noted, "If they allowed us to come this far, it may mean that they want to avoid a confrontation." "Commander, they're behind and above us too," Starbuck's eyes darted about. "All those Dorays who were watching us, are now on top of us!" "Easy, Starbuck," Adama motioned. "Looks like it's all over, but I'll tell you this, I'm not going without a fight!" The brash warrior added. "Pray it doesn't come to that." One Doray stepped forward, brandishing a musket by his side. He seemed to study the group of men carefully and the motioned to the Dorays behind him. Immediately they began to raise their primitive muskets, cocking back the hammers, preparing to discharge their ammunition. "I was hoping they wouldn't do that...Fire!" Adama barked. Starbuck and Boomer trained their shots so that they didn't hit the creatures. With pinpoint precision, they shot the muskets clean out of the hands of the first two that were about to open fire on them. The lead Doray, who had given the signal to them, stopped and seemed to frown, though it was impossible to tell given the twisted nature of her snout-like face. In an instant Adama realized this had to be the Doray leader, Warbride, still scantily clad in furs, but now unmasked. For the next centon, it seemed to the Colonials as though a tense face-off were now in place, with neither side willing to budge. Finally, Adama slowly turned to his son. "Apollo," he said, "Hand me the Languatron." The captain took it out of his pocket and handed it carefully to his father. "Wait here," the Commander said as he slowly moved toward the Doray chieftain. "Father!" Apollo protested. "It's all right. She hasn't done anything yet," he said reassuringly as he drew closer to Warbride, who was taking tentative steps toward Adama as well. She's got a gorgeous figure, Starbuck thought watching her move. But that face...ugh! Adama drew up to within two feet of him, his bearing firm and erect, the Languatron securely in his palm. "I am the chieftain of my people. We have come to you in peace. Are you willing to talk?" Warbride let out a series of low grunts and squeals that the machine immediately translated into a generic female voice. "Yes. Warbride talk to you, longnose." "Good," Adama felt relieved. "Someplace more private?" Warbride gestured to her left, indicating another cave on the opposite side of the canyon. Adama followed the Doray chieftain in, and saw two more Dorays standing guard over Brunhilde. "Oh Adama!" she said with relief, "Thank the Lords! What courage! What love must have brought you here to deliver me, my darling!" "Brunhilde," he shook his head in disbelief at how even amidst all this, the siress still had to keep playing her silly romantic games, "keep quiet. We're a long way from delivering anybody. She has a thousand of her warriors surrounding us. "Well for Sagan's sake, Adama, do something!" whined Brunhilde. Warbride let out some more grunts, and when the Languatron translated her words, Adama could scarcely believe it. "Warbride not like her. Warbride think she talks too much. But men of tribe like longnose woman, so she stay with us." He drew himself up and looked the Doray chieftain in the eye, "Look," he said, "You love your people. I love mine too. With that...common bond, we should be able to work something out that can be of advantage to all of us..." ***** Outside, the three warriors felt the tension increase as they could see the Dorays on all sides viewing them with hostility. As each centon went by, it seemed like they were all moving closer to them. "I'll tell you something," Starbuck said, "These guys actually make me yearn for Cylons!" "I'll remind you of that, the next time a group of centurions is surrounding you," Boomer dryly added. For the two of them, gallows humor was all they had to fall back on. Apollo though, didn't chime in with one of his own. Funny, Starbuck thought. There used to be a time when Apollo would always come up with the morbid jokes in a situation like this. Not anymore. His thoughts were shattered when the Doray perched on the cliff just two maxims to the left of them fired his weapon. The musketball came within a hair of hitting Starbuck in the leg. Starbuck looked back up to see which one had opened fire, and then decided enough was enough. His shot struck the Boray who had fired the musket in the chest. The creature tumbled over the cliff and fell fifteen metrons to the ground below. Seeing one of them struck down seemed to have an effect on the rest of the Dorays, and they immediately backed away. Still, the air of tension remained. "I wonder what's going on in there," Apollo finally broke his silence, "It's been almost ten centons now." "No one does diplomacy better then your father," Starbuck said. "If anyone can get them to understand---" The blonde warrior stopped when he saw Adama suddenly emerge from the cave. There was an angry and exasperated expression on the Commander's face as he pushed his way through the other Dorays. "Something tells me he didn't get through to her," Boomer said dryly. "That 'woman' is the most obstinate, self-centered, selfish, lazy snitrad I've ever met in my life! I thought Brunhilde was bad, but this Warbride..." Adama was fuming, and Apollo knew it had to be serious since he couldn't ever recall him using that expression in his life. "What did she say?" "That she's only interested in her own personal comforts, and that she can't help it if Doray custom dictates that the rest of them follow her lead when she decides she wants to indulge in some pleasures in town...excuse me...she calls it 'the longnose's heaven.' " The commander shook his head, "I just don't know how to bargain with a creature like that." "Hmmm," Starbuck stopped to reflect on Adama's words. Already, the germ of a new idea was entering his mind. One that he was convinced might salvage his reputation with the Commander if it worked. "Commander, did I hear you right? Lazy and interested only in her own personal pleasure? It doesn't matter to her what the rest of the Dorays do?" "That's exactly what I said," Adama said. "It gets worse; she refuses to release Brunhilde because she has the potential to offer her men...pleasure. You see, it's like giving a daggit a bone after he's done a good deed, like bringing you your slippers." "More like 'Thank you for helping me eat so well; here's the scraps," Apollo quipped. "Er, Commander, if I could please have the Languatron..." "Why?" he frowned. "So I can try a new diplomatic approach with her," Starbuck said, "It might work, if all you say about her is true." "How?" Apollo stared at him, disbelieving, "You're not a diplomat, Starbuck. How would you know how to bargain with her?" "I think I've got some leverage that might work," he motioned to the badge that was still attached to his tunic. "Remember, the symbol does carry a good deal of weight to them." "I suppose it's worth a try," Adama shrugged. "Go ahead, Starbuck. We'll keep you covered." Starbuck made his way down toward the cave. As they watched him disappear inside, Boomer suddenly shook his head, "I don't know why I feel this way, but if he ends up saving our hides after all the trouble he's gotten himself into, I think I'm going to resent it." "That's the trademark Starbuck behavior, Boomer," Apollo couldn't help but add. ***** When Starbuck entered the cave, he saw Warbride still standing next to her aides, and also could see that Brunhilde was furious. "Oh, so now Adama's sent you, has he? After all you've done to get yourself into trouble...losing my energizer...letting yourself get tricked into being constable... and letting me get captured by these rude bastards, you think I'm supposed to feel good that you've arrived?" "Easy there, Siress," Starbuck motioned, "I'll have you out of here in no time." He looked at Warbride and trained the Languatron at her. "Warbride, old girl, I've got a proposition for you that I think for someone who has such an affinity for the finest things in life couldn't possibly think of refusing..." ***** Commander..." Boomer said grimly as he saw the Dorays start to draw close to where they were standing once again, masks back in place over their faces. "I see them," Adama replied. "They're working up their courage to attack us." "We've already had to kill one of them," Apollo said, "If we do it again, it might get them to back off, Father." "Stay low and don't rapid-fire until one of them is about to fire his musket," Adama warned, "We have to give Starbuck a chance to get through to that slothful cretin." "What in Kobol could he be offering her?" "Your guess is as good as mine, son, but since I feel totally thwarted in trying to talk to her, I don't think there's anything to lose by having Starbuck try." "Commander!" Boomer pointed to their left, "Over there!" They could see one Doray aiming his musket, cocking back the hammer. Adama trained his laser pistol and fired, shooting the musket out of the creature's hand. It was enough to make Apollo marvel at how his father was still capable of shooting a laser with such precision after so many yahrens away from the field. The Dorays retreated, but the three men knew that unless there was some headway from Starbuck soon, it would only be a matter of time before their shock wore off and they would start aiming their muskets once again. "Friends, Colonials, countrymen...our troubles are over!" They turned around and saw Starbuck emerge from the cave with a wide grin on his face. Behind him, stumbling over the rocky surface was Brunhilde. "Starbuck!" Adama came over, grateful to see both him and Brunhilde emerge. "And Brunhilde, thank the Lords you're okay." "No thanks to you!" the siress said sourly, "Adama you've really lost your touch." she then turned and smiled warmly at Starbuck, "But you should have seen how Starbuck handled that filthy wench. He had her in the palm of his hand all the time." She grabbed him by the wrist and looked adoringly in his eyes, "Lieutenant, I have some very important friends in high places who could see to it you go a long ways in the Colonial Service." "Thank you Brunhilde, but...that's really not necessary," Starbuck kept his tone polite, but was already wishing she'd let go of him. "Let me show you how grateful I am," Brunhilde suddenly kissed him on the lips, and for the first time Adama and Apollo were both glad to see someone else have to be receiving end of Brunhilde's treatment. "To the victors go the spoils," Boomer said dryly. "Okay...ah, thanks." Starbuck said as he managed to get free of her. "Commander, I think maybe if you get Brunhilde and the others away from here, I can explain better how Warbride and I have...worked something out." "By all means," Adama said, "Apollo, Boomer, take Brunhilde back to the land sled." "Will do," Apollo motioned Brunhilde to move out, and then the captain remembered to pick up Muffit, who had stayed in front of them the whole while. "Okay, Muffit, back to the sled!" Once they'd moved out and Adama and Starbuck were alone, the Commander stared quizzically with him. "How did you get through to her?" "Nothing to it. I just told her that if she wanted luxury and comfort, there was a simpler way to get it then leading pillaging campaigns." He held up the constable's badge, "And they key to it, was all in here." "That's interesting," Adama said as he eyed the detail on the badge for the first time. And then, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Starbuck, can I see that for a micron?" "Sure, but I can't let you have it too long." The Commander held up the gold badge in the dim glare of the torchlight. "Good Lords of Kobol! Starbuck, did they tell you what this inscription on it means?" "Nope," the blonde warrior frowned, "Winger gave me some felgercarb story before he tricked me into taking it about it being the language of a the original inhabitants of the planet who'd...vanished." Adama handed it back to Starbuck. "Starbuck, his story didn't have as much felgercarb in it as you thought." "Huh?" the lieutenant's frown deepened. "I'll explain later," he said as he saw Warbridge emerge from the cave. "In the meantime, you fill me in on how you defused this situation." ***** Chapter Forty-One: Constable Warbride A centar later, inside the Chancery, Head Coordinator Winger handed over several documents to Adama. "Present these deeds to our Storage Bin Overseer, and you'll be entitled to all the fresh seed that can fit in your ship. I'll have all the spare men he can afford help load it in." The droid hesitated. "There's a lot more I wish I could ask you, now that who you really are is clear to me, but...I get the feeling it's better that I don't ask. Arcadis was settled 700 yahrens ago, after the war between the Colonies and the Alliance began, and even though we've been fortunate to be sheltered from the fighting in all the yahrens since, my logic circuits tell me that matters still haven't been resolved if you've been trying to keep your identities concealed." Adama smiled thinly and decided this was the time to ask the other question that had been burning on his mind. "Coordinator Winger, I'm curious about one thing. When the humans who built you first settled this planet 700 yahrens ago, were there already humans living on this planet?" "Yes," said the droid, "as a matter of fact there were. A very small dark-skinned aboriginal band that lived out where the Catacombs are now. We couldn't understand their language though. There were only about fifty to a hundred of them, and now they're all gone. After mixed breeding, their original line, whoever they were became extinct." He paused, "How could you have known that?" "Just curious," Adama picked up the documents, "Again, our people will be very grateful for your kindness. We do have a great many to feed." "I'm certain," Winger said, "And...your energizer I know will help us a great deal in increasing our nighttime operations." he paused and smiled, "Incidentally, I plan on introducing a resolution at the next Town Committee meeting about altering our charter regarding the position of Constable being a lifetime appointment." Adama returned it, "Wise thinking, Chief Bogan. But as things stand now, I think your next Constable will want to keep the job for life." "How's that?" The Commander motioned to the door, "Starbuck, bring our guest in." The doors opened and a smiling Starbuck entered with the Doray chieftain behind him, the gold stripes of her mask gleaming under the ceiling lights. Her presence caused everyone in the Chancery to bolt up and scream in fear. "No, no!" Starbuck waved his hand, still smiling, "It's okay! Warbride's here to become friends now!" "Friends? Her?" Hoss' eyes widened in disbelief as the rest of the Chancery patrons eyed the Doray with suspicion and fear. "You pullin' my leg?" "Nope," Starbuck came up to Winger, "See, in exchange for stepping down as Doray chieftain, and getting the Dorays to go back to farming their own food, leaving all of yours unmolested, and leaving your town property undamaged, and your people safe, Warbride's agreed to take over my job and become your new town constable!" Winger's metal jaw nearly fell open as he saw Warbride and pointing with pride to the shield on her furry halter top now. "Constable...Warbride?" he could barely get the words. "Yeah, you see it's like this," Starbuck said, "I told her that if luxury and comfort was all he wanted in life, there was a simpler way to get it then leading a bunch of Dorays on pillages and causing so much senseless destruction. And that's when I told her about all the wonderful privileges and perks that came with my job. Great salary. Full access to all the food and drink you want. And because New Corinth is noted for being such a well-knit community where the locals don't try to cheat each other or cause trouble, that means the job of constable really doesn't have to do any serious work at all. By the time I was done, I had her practically begging for it!" Winger put a hand on his chin and started to laugh, "Starbuck, you are one skilled diplomat! Giving one Doray all he needs is small change compared to what we've lost in pillages. If that keeps Warbride in line and guarantees the Dorays are off our backs for good, then that's fine by me." He looked at Hoss, "You agree?" There was a trace of reluctance in the adjutant's voice since he wasn't keen on seeing Warbride win any rewards after all the damage that had been caused, but finally he took a thoughtful puff on his hookah and shrugged as if in defeat. "And believe me, she takes one part of the job seriously," Starbuck said as he motioned Warbride to sit down at the table, "If any Dorays decided to pillage again, he'd view that as a threat to getting whatever she wants, so that means she would be more than happy to make sure they stay out." "I'm impressed, Starbuck. You've thought of everything." Winger turned to Hoss, "Hoss, what say you buy our new constable a drink and toast our mutual good fortune?" The aide allowed himself a crooked smile, "Ain't got nuttin' t'lose by it I 'spose." Winger turned back to Adama one last time, "May the Lords be with you and your people, Adama." "And yours as well, Winger." When they reached the doorway that led outside, Starbuck couldn't help but turn back one last time. Both Winger and Hoss were chatting with Warbride as if they'd known each other for a long time. "Looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he grinned as they stepped outside. "Too bad it couldn't be the same with us, Starbuck," Belloby sighed, "Oh, if I were only thirty yahrens younger." The uneasy feeling returned to the lieutenant again, and this time Adama was glad to be the one smiling at someone else's expense. His smile widened as he saw Brunhilde force another kiss on the blonde warrior again. The siress then turned to Adama, "Adama, darling, I'm afraid this time together revealed that we're more apart from each other than ever before. You're become so refined and dignified, and me, I ljust love to enjoy life to the fullest. I guess rekindling what we had was never meant to be. I'm at the stage of life where I need a real animal to give me what I need." "Of course," Adama nodded gently, feeling relieved it was all over. "And I'm sure there are plenty of lonely men in the Fleet who share your passion for life. No hard feelings, Belloby." As she moved ahead toward the Landmule, Apollo chuckled and patted his father on the back. "Thank the Lords," his son said, "I just couldn't see myself calling her Mother." Adama turned around and stared at his son, "Is that one more laugh at my expense, son?" "I... guess it must be," Apollo chuckled as they headed toward the sled. "What was all that talk about an ancient, pre-settlement human presence on this planet?" "Merely something that provides a good deal of reassurance to me, Apollo," Adama said, "The inscription on that constable's shield is the writing of those first humans. Kobollian language." "Kobollian?" Apollo was taken aback. "You mean, that 'vanished civilization' that Winger told Starbuck about...it was actually a Kobollian settlement?" "Yes. And I recognized the language immediately," Adama smiled, "Apollo, for the first time we've found evidence that people from the Thirteenth Tribe came along this path on their journey to Earth. That means that even though the precise direction remains unknown to us, we have reason to keep going into this part of the galaxy." A beaming Apollo put his arm around his father's shoulder, "In that case, between that and the seed and getting Brunhilde out of your hair forever, this mission was a total success." "In every sense of the word," he said as they reached the Landmule. "Come on, let's get that seed and then go home." "Boxey and I would like nothing better. As the Landmule started up, Adama took one last look at the Chancery and the people mulling in and out. This was by far a good, thriving community of humans, and he could only hope and pray that the terror of the Cylon Empire pursuing them never came across this colony. It struck Adama as amazing at how so many small pockets of humanity could exist in these isolated enclaves of charted space, representing communities that had been able to live such sheltered lives from the long terror of the war. And now it had paid its greatest bonus to them in that their communities had been able to keep flourishing even after the destruction of the Mother Civilization from whence their ancestors had first come. There was one part of Adama that wondered if in coming to these outposts, with so much Cylon pursuit trailing them, were these sheltered enclaves of humanity being put at risk? And if so, wasn't it incumbent upon him to warn these people and offer them the protection of the Fleet, in taking them aboard as had been done a sectar before with Princess Alpha and the population of the Destructon Prison Asteroid? As powerful as that argument was, Adama knew he couldn't act on that instinct. The bottom line was that the Arcadisites, like the other outposts they encountered, needed to remain free to determine their own destinies. Just as the Colonials needed to be free to chart their own destiny one day on the last great outpost of humanity that had to exist in the universe. The shining blue planet known as Earth. When the shuttle was finally away two centars later, fully loaded with the seed that would keep a famine from breaking out, Adama was able to see New Corinth disappear from view with a totally clear conscience. The End