(Just a note -- this story is a "missing scene," taking place during
"Galactica Discovers Earth" between Zee telling Adama they cannot land,
and the briefing Adama and Zee give the warriors.  It probably is
happening at about the same time we first see Troy and Dillon and the
"they were... good people" scene.)

Empty Dreams
by Seanchaidh

Adama's Journal, Colonial Yahren 7382

     In my last journal entry, I stated my hopes and expectations, now
that we have found Earth.  This dream of salvation, of sanctuary, has
kept us going for the last thirty yahrens of our journey.  It fueled us
with inspiration while the darkest imaginable centars passed.  Now that
we have reached our goal, we had hoped it could fulfill our wishes.
     Earth cannot do that.  She cannot do anything to aid us.
     I thought my heart would break when I heard Doctor Zee seal our fate
when he said that we cannot land, or make direct contact.  Before my
eyes, the faces of those I had lost during the course of our search
flashed by.  They were accompanied by one of the last phrases uttered to
me by my daughter, before she left my quarters for the last time all
those yahrens ago.  Oh, Athena, if I had known that your words were true. 
I was never really prepared for this; I had always expected us to find an
advanced Earth, on par with our technology or even more.
     And now, as I sit here, dictating my journal, I have these pictures
-- holopicts and memory crystals -- of all my losses.  My sacrifices to
the empty dreams of Earth.  I look on their faces, but beyond the smiling
poses.  I look into their eyes, reflecting on what their reactions might
have been had they survived to see this day.  Is it truly disappointment
that I see, or is it just what my imagination and conscience projects
onto them?
     You could have answered that question, Ila, I'm sure of it.  All
during our marriage, despite the long separations that the war imposed
between us, you always seemed to have the answers to what troubled me. 
It was your loss that spurred me on to make the decision to save our
people; when I stood in our burning home on Caprica, imagining what your
fate might have been, I felt your presence.  You were standing there,
quietly offering your strength as you did in yahrens past, urging me to
act.  I've missed that strength over the many yahrens, my love, and
now...  If you were here now, your loving embrace would give me what I
needed to continue.
     You were young, Zac, when you were taken.  My younger son, you were
always trying to better yourself against your brother, trying to get both
his respect and my own.  I tried to tell you that I loved you regardless,
but that never seemed to make a difference.  Would the current situation
change your opinion of me?  The father who held you when you were
frightened, who counseled you when you were upset and wiped tears away
when you were hurt; would you look at me in a different light now? 
Although your death prompted my decision, along with that of your mother,
I wonder how much you would judge me.
     Although we had met before in formal circumstances, never did I
think, Serina, that I would be welcoming you into my family.  Despite the
circumstances, I remember how happy you made my son while you were alive.
You always questioned, my dear daughter-in-law, and kept me on track.  I
remember the theological debates you would occasionally begin with Athena
and myself, while the others would simply sit in quiet amusement.  You,
like Athena, would not be surprised at the turn of events that have taken
place, I'm sure.
     It's perhaps the hardest to look at you, Apollo.  You devoted
yourself to everything in the journey, something I always appreciated.  I
always knew, and took for granted, that you would be there to support me. 
Whether it was the loyalty of a captain to his commander, or the love a
son has for his father, or a combination somewhere in between, you were
always reliable.  To see the cause you sacrificed your very life for come
to an end such as this would, I expect, cause you to bow your head in
shame.  I bow my own in a similar gesture.  My dream, the one you died to
protect, cost you the love of Sheba, and the opportunity and joy of
knowing your own son when he was born.  Nor did you get to see Boxey
finish growing up into a warrior who would have made you incredibly
proud.  I see your eyes grow cold, despite the smile on your lips, and it
hurts me to the core of my being.
     What led you to believe that I was on the wrong path, Athena?  What
insight, what premonition?  I refused to believe you when you first
brought them to me, though even you have to admit that the timing wasn't
right. The news of a colony being formed, and learning that my only
daughter and surviving child was planning on leaving?  You said that my
dream had already cost us Apollo and Starbuck; if you remained you would
point out the losses of Sheba and Josce.  What will my mistake cost me? 
Your own cost you your life when the Cylons destroyed your dreams as
reality did to mine.
     The great shame of war is how it destroys the real hope of our
lives, and I had such great hopes for you, Josce and Eilan.  I'll never
be sure exactly what happened to you, Josce; your fate remains enigmatic
just as your father's before you.  Always keenly interested in things
around you, I could see you doing many great things as an adult; but you
were torn from this life before your potential could shine.
     Eilan, your father still mourns your loss, even though he has had to
move on with his own life.  You were here for such a brief time, like an
angel in the midst of the tragedy of which our life is composed.  The
image of your round dark face still brings me joy as I remember what it
was like when you were born, and how it was when your cousin, too, was
born.  The joy of knowing that in darkness, light may prevail if
nurtured.
     And now, I see your pictures, Starbuck and Sheba.  The children I
cherished who were not of my blood.  I remember how you both suffered
when Apollo never came back, but you both wanted to continue helping me
in our goal.  You continued as a pilot, Starbuck, helping to fill
Apollo's void; while you first taught at the Academy before taking your
own command, Sheba.  Together, you worked for my dream until fate
intervened, taking you away from us.  Are you now standing with Apollo,
watching me with disappointment?
     I see your faces change in displeasure and embarrassment, but if I
blink and look again, your pictures are as they were.  Images of
happiness, optimism and trust.  Were your deaths in vain, Athena, Josce,
Eilan, Sheba, Starbuck and Apollo?  Was there something else I should
have done, Ila and Zac?
     Before I initially spoke with Doctor Zee, I found that someone had
forwarded something for me.  One of the many poets in the fleet had
written about our goal, now that we had obtained it at the end of our
blood-soaked journey.  It spoke of how I felt at the moment, and my
optimism overshadowed those cautious words:
          _On the Discovery of Earth_

     To our future generations,
     We present to you this humble gift.
     May it replace the loss of a nation
     that you might have called your own.
     Instead, we offer you the refuge
     that Earth, our cousins' world, may grant.
     Let not the enthusiasm, the pride,
     and other lofty emotions cloud your eyes.
     Let not the hands of another play a role
     that you yourself might better suit.
     Keep watch over your children, as we did you,
     Remember who you are,
     For being yourself is all is left of you.

     But the words are true.  I wonder if the poet had the foresight of
what might have occurred; whether we have a new home or not, we still
remain who we are.  We have our past, which we will not easily forget. 
At the same time, we have our future waiting for us, and primitive or
not, that future now includes Earth.
     At the current time, I cannot exactly say what we will do.  Zee and
I discussed many possibilities; I suggested possibly courses of action,
and he computed whether they would possibly succeed or fail.  I believe
we have come up with a plan of action that will give us at least some way
of helping both ourselves and Earth, since we have more than likely
brought the Cylons equally upon them.
     In less than two centars, our warriors will have assembled, and a
briefing will begin.  I must give them the same news that I was forced to
hear only a few centars ago.  What their reactions will be, I have no
doubt that they will be as shocked and horrified as I was.
     Perhaps you see a clearer course of action, my lost loved ones. 
From your vantage point, do you see something I might be missing? 
Perhaps you might be able to tell me, or perhaps not.  All I can say is
that, please, keep watch over us, because I know we shall need it.  Even
if Earth cannot help us, we must help Earth; that part of our voyage has
not been in vain.

The End