EVOLUTIONS
The history of the 'Ruination War'  
Book One
Version 2.5  
November 2002

Summary:   The survivors of the Battlestar Galactica and its Fleet have
finally made it to the Alpha quadrant. But so have the Cylons. 

September 2001

             Prologue 

     "I told you this would be wonderful," Q said to his son, Q. 
"Nothing beats sun bathing in a sun's core.  Those gamma rays really make
the old nuclei tingle."
     His son Q merely looked at his father. "We've done this so many
times before," he replied.  "It gets boring after a while.  I don't
understand why you find this so relaxing.  It's not like it's different
each time," he complained.
     Q looked at his son and smiled that whimsical smile he was making
more and more often.  It was just like the young to complain about being
bored he thought.  Like him, Q had extended his non-corporeal being to
circle the star itself.  Waves of solar radiation ensuing from that sun
caressed them both as harmlessly as a mother would hold her newborn
child.
     Radiation, fire, heat, energy meant nothing to beings such as them. 
They were Q and the Q were power personified.  They could do anything
they wished.  To them the past, present, or alternate futures were merely
concepts to play with.   They understood everything.  They knew
everything-except how to raise one obnoxious, spoiled baby, with the
powers of the Q.  Now that was beyond them.
     "Of course it's different each time," his father countered.  "Each
star has its own ambience.  But you're young.  You won't be able to fully
appreciate this concept for another thousand years or so."
     "Then why is it that Amanda can't tell the difference?  She's older
than I."
     "Amanda isn't even thirty yet," Q said using Earth years as his
reference point.  "Besides she's a not a real Q, not in the since you
are."  But even as he said it he realized that what he'd said wasn't
strictly true.  She was born of Q parents and even though she was
emotionally bonded to her human form, she retained all the powers of the
Q.  The problem was that she had been around humans too long.  Even now
she still thought like them.  But there was something about her that
reminded him of his son and it had taken him some time to understand the
truth behind it.
     The future for those two would be...interesting.  He wondered if
anyone else in the Q continuum understood the possibilities for them all
in the future.  She was young, just like his son.  But Amanda was stable,
maturing both as an adult and a Q equally. And they were both equal, just
different.  
     His son however was something else.  Maturity?  Hah!  Not yet.
     Thank Q for Kate!
     "Trelane said he couldn't tell the difference from one star to
another either and he's been around for a couples of centuries," Q
retorted. 
     "Stay away from him," Q yelled, his form slowly condensing to his
preferred humanoid form.  He was still transparent but his energy
patterns could be clearly defined by his son.   "He's a bad influence on
you.  I don't want you on his side of the block.  Trelane's people are
almost on our level, but not quite, so leave...them...alone.  We need to
maintain the peace with them."
     "I can't play with Trelane," his son growled. "I can't play with the
Borg, can't do this, can't do..."
     His son would never understand, but Trelane was to Q as Q was to
Picard.  Trelane was an irritant, a pain in the neck, a kick in the
eternal butt, a sore on the lips and anything else one could think of and
you couldn't get rid of him.  He was like a fly.  He even had his own
Enterprise to play with, an old one to be sure but a real one
nevertheless.  Inwardly though, Q was laughing silently.  He wondered if
Jean Luc would appreciate the irony?  "Be patient son.  All things come
to he who waits."
     "You're never patient," his son retorted.  "You do anything you
want."
     "That's not true," Q replied.  "I can't go anywhere without you.  In
fact the Q have said that I can't go anywhere without you.  Forever."
     That was Q's punishment for acting like a kid.  His father, Q would
have to be with him to keep an eye on him for eternity.
     -Or, until he matured into a responsible Q.
     Just like his daddy.
     "Father, do you hate me?" his son asked.  He was giving him that
look, again.
     Q was all-powerful, but when it came to his son he was completely
helpless.  Yep, love could really be a curse.  How could this child be so
insecure?  Q had given him everything.  He could do anything he wanted
yet he still needed the approval of his father.  Now that was a true
mystery that even Kate had not given him a satisfactory answer for.
     "No.  Never.  I guess we'll learn to be responsible.  Together. 
Speaking of which, here they come."
     Q pointed to his left.  Both he and his son were in their chosen
humanoid forms, floating effortlessly at the edge of the star's corona.
     "Not the Galactica again," his son groaned.  "How many times and in
how many realities have we seen this?  They make it to the Federation or
Earth, those stupid Cylons start a fight and they lose," his son said. 
"And why are they so late in our reality?  Talk about boring."  The look
he gave his father radiated a mix between exasperation and nausea.  "What
is your obsession with these people?"
     "What's your obsession with Voyager and the humans there?"  
     Silence.
     "Ha." Q felt so smug.  "It's called infinite diversity in infinite
combinations.  More importantly, this time it's our reality.  What you're
about to witness here will change everything for the Federation and
everyone they've contacted so far.  This is the beginning.  Oh, how
stunned Katherine and Jean Luc would be if they had a clue as to how the
Galactica and Federation humans were truly related," he whispered with
glee.  "Oh the upheaval!  Oh the chaos!"
     "Tell me another one, father," his son said quietly.  "You've been
obsessed with them ever since you saw him and your counterpart go to war
for the fate of humanity in that other reality.  Your counterpart Q
almost lost and you've wanted to try your hand against him ever since."
      "True Q," Q admitted.  "But it's more than that," he said. 
"Humanity has an interesting quality.  They, in their own pitiful way
strive to overcome their obvious limitations and usually they fail.  But
they get up and they strive some more.  No matter how pitiful they are
they continue to strive."  That's what frightens me he thought.
     "That's what intrigues me," he said.  "Their future and ours are
linked.  Think about it, if they had been defeated just one year later
then they would have found Earth and would have had to deal with the
Shadows and Vorlons.  It still amazes me just how much a little
dimensional rift can do," he said absently.   "Both ends of that rift are
still open by the way."
     "I thought you closed it?"
     "I did," Q said offended by the accusation.  "But I was too late and
you know how trifling mortals are. They keep playing with temporal
energies and now the whole place is ruined.  That petty temporal war even
pulled Picard out from his normal boring life.  I was able to correct all
the possible outcomes but two.  I lost those Picards and one Garrett and
a Sisko.  It was a pity really."
     "You can't get to him?"
     "Not in that reality, no.  Where they were taken is too fractured. 
I could get in but not back out.  The universe would not take kindly to
the effort and the would be re-absorbed.  It's not worth the risk.
     "Too bad."
     Q did not want to think about.  It represented a failure on his
part.
     "Look at them," he continued changing the subject.  "Those humans on
those ships should be demoralized, just waiting to die, but they're not. 
They're fighting back even after all this time, more than twenty of their
years."  He looked at his son and pointed towards the rag-tag fleet. 
"That need to strive forward is what the Q lack.  But one day," he
whispered.
     "As you've seen, in a couple of realities," he said, changing the
subject once again, "the Cylons actually manage to defeat the Galactican
humans.  But even compared to Data, Cylons are technologically equal to
forth-generation Terran calculators. You know the cheap kind that cost so
much money when money was important to humans."
     "True," Q said.  "But what's your point?  The Federation is safe. 
Captain Janeway will have a home to come to."
     "Maybe not," his father responded.  "Understand that events have
been set into motion."  His entire aura darkened until the stars rays
reflected off him like some malevolent mirror created from dark matter. 
"The Federation is about to undergo some fascinating developments."
     "What's happened?  Why did it happen?"  This was something new.  His
son was clearly alarmed.
     Good.
     "He's done it. Oh, not directly of course.  That would be a
violation of the Law."
     "Who?"
     "I believe it's time," Q said, ignoring his son's question, "for me
to make a counter move, indirectly, of course.  The question is how? 
How?"
     His son was quiet.  His father's mood was dark and getting darker by
the moment.  He could feel the agreement of the entire Q behind his
father.  He didn't understand what was going on, not fully.  He'd have to
be patient.  He prepared himself to wait.
     Infinite diversity required infinite patience.

Chapter One
Interference

     Commander's log yahren 22, day 116, Apollo reporting: Five sectares
have passed since our last contact with Cylon Hunter-Killers.  The people
have blessed this time, for we have found occasion to rest for short
periods on several planets.  We grow food; collect supplies and then move
on.  The Beta quadrant has not been kind to us but we have survived.  We
have avoided several new races that we've come into contact with because
of our pursuers' policy of destroying anyone who offers us help or
support.  We will not have their deaths on our hands. But because of that
choice, we are alone.
     President Adama, former Commander of the Fleet and my father, is no
longer able to lead our people as health problems have taken their toll. 
The stress of constantly defending our people is a burden that no man
should bear, but I thank the Gods that he is still able to give advice
when we need it.  As appointed Commander of the fleet I pray that I bear
the pressure half as well as he, my father, has.
     If the Cylons attack, we are ready.  Our technology has improved
tremendously.  Using light speed drive, we can accelerate past six times
the speed of light.  And our ability to detect wave-space pockets has
allowed us to travel much farther than even we thought possible.  Our
Vipers are three generations more advanced and we're even building light
cruisers to aid in our defense.
     But our people weary.  The thirteenth colony may be a fable after
all.  We've traveled deep into the Alpha quadrant and no consistent radio
signals have been detected as of yet.  However, there was a possibility
of life near the far fringes of a long dead supernova.  But possible
Hunter-Killer activity has forced us to abandon the search almost before
we could begin.  Since then, there has been only silence.  This sector
may well be devoid of life.  Only time will tell.

     "How's it going, Commander?"  Starbuck eased into the chair next to
his old friend.  The bridge contained room for four command seats.  On
the next level below over twenty command personnel were on station doing
their jobs.  From their position, the command staff could oversee
everything. The room itself had been painted and repaired more times than
could be remembered.   A lot of the equipment was a whole was old and
battered but still functional.  Much of the old, unusable computron
consoles had been replaced by the newly designed systems.  The factory
ships were working overtime, but still projected objectives could be
barely met.
     "I haven't been in command for two yahren and I am tired.  I don't
understand how my father dealt with all of this."   Apollo took a sip of
his tea.  He frowned, almost spitting it out.
     "Yep, the water system is acting up again," Strike Commander
Starbuck, said, answering Apollo's unvoiced question.  "Third time this
secton.  In fact everything is slowly breaking down," he whispered, his
eyes circling the bridge.  "Even with the improvements, our old girl is
losing it."
     "I'm surprised she lasted this long.  She was over a hundred yahren
old before we lost the colonies.  Add to that twenty-two more for non
stop travel..."
     "And the time-distortion effects of the tunnel shifting, we get..."
     "Almost four hundred years of stress on the Galactica, not to
mention the other ships," Apollo continued.
     "And they're still following us," Starbuck finished.
     Both of them had repeated a variation of this conversation, for a
better part of a yahren.  After being together for so long, fighting
together, playing together, arguing with one another, they understood
each other's thoughts and feelings.  They were close, as were Sheba,
Apollo's wife and Commander of the Battlestar Pegasus, her second,
Colonel Boomer and Bojay, Strike leader of the Battlestar Pegasus's
flight command.  Sheba's father, Commander Cain, former Captain of the
Pegasus, survived as a cryogenic patient on life-support, a victim of a
fire that resulted from a Cylon attack some five Yahrens ago.  He lived,
but hope was slim that help would be found that would allow him some
semblance of a normal life.
     Jolly another one of the 'old guard' had been lost some two yahren
earlier.  It was due to natural causes, but his death was a tragedy
anyway.  His daughter. Joliet now an excellent Cobra class pilot had
taken it really hard and now she was colder than ever.
     In fact, most of the newer generation had become harder, much colder
than their parents.  Even the young Borellian Nomen had become blood
brothers with the other Colonial factions and when they wanted something
few people could stand in their way. Fortunately, all of them were loyal
to a fault.  Most of them grew up knowing little to nothing of their
glorious past heritage.  For them, destroying Cylons had become the great
equalizer.
     "Where's Boxey now?"
     "He's in the lead Cobra about six light centons in from of us."
Starbuck said.  "He's pretty good at this now if I do say so myself.  If
he needs support, our cover Vipers and Cobras will be all over anybody
who messes with him, as you well know."
     Starbuck was particularly proud of the Cobra-class fighter-missile
carriers, each three times the size of a Viper II and designed to take on
any six Raiders single-handedly, without breaking a sweat.
     "You know, I can't stand this waiting," Apollo sighed.  "My father
used to tell me how he felt when we were on assignment. I thought I
understood what he meant, but I never imagined that it was like this."
     "Tell me about it."
     "I'm glad you understand, now," a voice said from behind.   It was
President Adama, former Commander and savior of the Colonial remnants. 
He was frail, but his eyes were still bright and his mind sharp.  He was
smiling with that whimsical smile of his as he sat down next to both of
them.  "When you send your children out, not knowing if they'll come back
your heart always, ALWAYS, goes with them.  Boxey, in fact all of them on
patrol will be okay.  You must have faith, and patience.  That's how you
have the strength to go on."
     "Father," Apollo said, "we haven't seen a Cylon H-K or Raider in
over five sectons.  We may have given them the slip for a while."
     "Starbuck?" Adama looked at him, waiting.  He understood how this
would play out.
     "I concur," Starbuck said.
     "Therefore?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer.
     "We gather the fleet and go to light speed, tunnel shift and make
sure," Apollo said.
     "Exactly."
     "Starbuck?" said Apollo.  "Let the Pegasus and our guard ships know
of our presumed exit point. The Vipers should have enough fuel."
     "Yes sir.  I wish we had engines like those in the old days."
     "So do I.  So do I."   
     With the ease of twenty-two yahrens practice, the Galactica and it's
ragtag fleet of over two hundred and thirty five vessels accelerated to
'light speed', which in actuality was over six times the speed of light. 
The Galactica, along with the Rising Star, a luxury liner, but in truth
the third most powerful ship in the fleet, each began generating 'tunnel
shift' distortion surges, which allowed the ships to enter artificially
created wave-space pockets.  Taking the lead, the Galactica, with the
Rising Star following second, then the rest slipped into the wave space
pocket and disappeared.  They would re-enter normal space six centares
later, nine hundred thirty-five light yahrens distant.
     At the edge of Romulan space.


     Cylon Hunter-Killer decelerated back into normal space some
seventeen light-yahrens distant from an ancient, long dead star that went
nova and took powerful T'kon Empire with it.  Few remnants were left to
mark the once thriving civilization.  There remained only a single
guardian that even now barred the way from any who would enter the
deceased Imperium.  But he was old and he no longer had true purpose and
so was fading slowly away to rejoin his people once again for the final
time.  A few other survivors were scattered to the far ends of the galaxy
and the once glorious T'kon had faded into footnotes found in obscure
history pads.
     The Hunter-Killer was designed like the standard Cylon Raider, but
almost four times as large with high intensity lasers and increased armor
to match.  Standard scanning protocols attempted to lock in on the source
of the signal it had detected while in FTL transit.  The crew consisted
of eighteen class-seven Cylon warriors, designed specifically for
reconnaissance and insertion operations.  They were heavily armored and
completely expendable, their programming sophisticated enough to get them
from one place to another and damage their opponents, but not much else. 
Communication between warriors was strictly vocal and minimal.  Personal
weaponry consisted of simple laser pistols and the standard pulse-laser
rifle carried by all class-seven Warriors.  Their sole function was to
find and facilitate the Destruction of the Galactican fleet and the
life-form known as Man.  Imperious Leader liked its warriors simple and
stupid, especially when they were this far from home.
     "Scanners have detected the source of the unidentified emissions,"
the sensor centurion said.  Its voice was cold and metallic with no
inflections whatsoever that was associated with living organisms.  "The
location is the small moon thirty-three light centons, at coordinates one
seventy-six by one twenty by ninety, on the Imperium scale."
     "Is there evidence of Colonial technology at this moon?" another,
identical voice asked.  The centurion Commander who spoke was a type six
series with command protocols programmed into its software matrix.
     "Negative, however there is evidence that the Colonial fleet passed
through this sector.  It is logical to assume that the fleet stopped to
investigate in order to assist in their search for the thirteenth colony
known as Earth."
     "It is logical that we may find evidence, also.  Proceed to the
moon."
     "By your command."


     The moon was more of a burned out shell, scorched black, and
partially carbonized by the nova explosion.  Two thirds of its remains in
the seconds after the energy wave front touched crystallized, protecting
its dark side from the brunt of the devastation.  It was there that a
small T'kon service station had survived, barely.  It was archaic,
essentially obsolete by T'kon standards of the time, having served as an
emergency backup simply because one never knew, and the T'kon were a
thorough people.  Although badly damaged it continually sent a weak
automated distress call towards a homeworld that would never answer
anything else ever again.
     The H-K landed three hundred hectares from the source and began
performing a more detailed scan.  The Cylons had been tricked many times
before and programming now included procedures that countered known
sabotage techniques employed by humans.  One of these was 'never to land
on top of a suspect signal.'
     "The area is devoid of life," the scanner operator stated.  "Scan
has not detected known explosives or energy sources designed to damage or
destroy Imperium personnel."
     "Recon one," the Leader said,  "proceed to the source of the signal
and identify as necessary.  Report when the task is completed. 
Evaluation will begin upon the completion of your mission."
     "By your command."
     Recon one consisted of three seven-foot cyclopean, silver-colored
robots each armed with one light pulse laser rifle, a communications
transceiver and a visual recording device.  Imperious Leader chose not to
implement 'internal' communications devices because of budgetary
concerns.  They exited their craft and fifteen minutes later they reached
the source of the signal deep within the confines of an artificially
constructed cave.  The far majority of the alien equipment was damaged
beyond repair and Cylon restorative technology wasn't up to the
challenge.  Besides the equipment and materials had nothing to do with a
Colonial presence.  Therefore, the centurions could have cared less.
     The second of three robots lumbered up to the transmission source,
which resembled a simple black box with several, constantly blinking,
multi-colored lights.  The Cylon looked at it then turned away.  "There
is no evidence of a Colonial presence.  They have not come here.  This
place is of no service to the Empire.  We must inform our Commander and
resume our search for the Galactica."
     "By your command," came the reply from the two others.  As one, they
turned to leave.

     "Service...Empire...Command..."
     Those were the only words that the badly damaged T'kon Service
computer registered.  Most of its higher functions had been seared away
by the massive EM burst and subsequent heat flash of the supernova, but
it did remember the word 'Empire'.  It serviced the Empire and the mobile
equipment in front of it must be from the Empire.  Therefore it had to be
serviced.  That was the command.  The command had been given and must be
obeyed.  An instant later Recon one stood frozen in place as alien
sensors performed a detailed scan down to their molecular level.  With
the information gathered and analysis complete, it began reconstructive
surgery on Recon one.
     "Software infiltration detected," Cylon two said, even as it tried
desperately to move within the containment field.  "Software protocols
are being rewritten by unknown computer system.  "I am unable to resist. 
Imperial security data is being extracted.  Implementing self-destruct
mode in..."
     Nothing. All systems were completely frozen.

Chapter Two
Change

     The T'kon servicing system began its work.  After a millennium of
slumber the chamber had re-activated itself.  The entire system,
essentially a massive replication device now focused its full attention
on Recon one.
     "Original software protocols saved and upgraded," the computer said
to no one particular, indifferent to the fact that there was no one there
to speak to in the first place.  "Power source inadequate...update to
anti-hydrogen-deuterium battery and support ...memory storage and
implementing hardware inadequate...update to liquid crystal chrotronics
memory and storage unit compatible with upgraded software
protocols...installing database... mobile support system
inadequate...update to admantium-plated, hyper-steel alloy combat chassis
configured for mobile units... communications inadequate... update to
internal sub-space transceivers and data stream initiators...visual
sensors and analysis modules inadequate...update to broad spectrum
detection system consistent with macro and micro scanning capabilities,
specifics to follow... Weapons system inadequate...update to dual
internal pulse, multi-phased disruptors compatible with anti-hydrogen
deuterium battery systems...self-repair systems non-existent
...self-replicator units being installed...systems check initiated..."
     When the operation was completed, the service computer turned its
attention on the Cylon H-K a short distance away.
     For the Cylon Empire nothing would ever be the same ever again.  
The change was forever and the repercussions would reverberate throughout
the Alpha quadrant and beyond.


     A secton later three double saucer shaped Cylon Basestars, each
three miles in diameter, decelerated into normal space, settling into
orbit around the decrepit moon in response to the urgent calls of the
H-K, initially thought lost to Colonial actions.  Baltar, human liaison
to Imperious Leader and one of the greatest human traitors in this
galaxy's history, was coldly furious.
     "Over twenty yahrens and we STILL can't get it right?" he yelled. 
"There's nothing here!"  
     Lucifer, a robot designed along the IL series models, Cylon liaison
to Baltar, flinched slightly.  The light transmissions in his pointed
cybernetic brain had begun cycling quicker as did his dual pulsating
eyes, an internal response to the criticalness of the situation.  It had
taken far too long to find the humans and Imperious Leader would replace
them.  Soon.
     Baltar, Lucifer thought, would be completely useless before long, as
his frail body slowly disintegrated from age. These were such short
term-creatures.  Even now the human rarely used the command chair.  The
man had lived with too much fear.  Fear of what his Cylon allies would do
to him.  Fear of death, the fear of succeeding, fear of failing, fear of
being alone, fear of having too much company, and of course the great
fear of the unknown.  Fear burned him slowly, like a low intensity laser
cutter.
     "The report said that they'd found the Galactica," Lucifer intoned
as soothingly as possible.  "Centurions, unlike humans, tell the truth,
Baltar."
     Baltar glared at it but said nothing. Centurions didn't lie,
although the IL series did, but he wasn't about to point that out.
     Yes it thought, this is what humans would refer to as stress.  "The
report is coming in now, Baltar.  I hope it meets to our satisfaction,"
it said dryly.  "For all our sakes."
     The vid screen opened and the Leader of the Cylon H-K appeared.  "By
your command," it said.  "We have tracked the Galactica and have
discovered the home world of the humans of the thirteenth colony. 
Prepare to receive the coordinates..."
     The words were correct but the look was wrong.  Baltar backed away
from the screen in a good approximation of human dread.  Something wasn't
right, but for a moment he couldn't identify the problem.  By his side
Lucifer was yelling to cut the transmission.  Baltar had never heard
terror from his second-in-command.  It seemed unnatural coming from a
robot and that terrified him that much more.
     Lucifer however completely understood what had happened and was
desperate to stop what it knew would begin.  "Full defense alert!  All
ships fire on..."
     The order came far, far, too late.


     For centars Baltar examined each and every immobile Cylon he
encountered, finally stopping at the outer doors of the launching bay. 
All twenty thousand Cylons were immobile and the ships systems had
completely and totally locked him out.  Voice command was useless and
he'd never learned how to manually operate the ship, even though he'd
dwelt on it for yahrens now.   Then several Cylons of a type and model
he'd never seen before had materialized - materialized out of thin air!
-and began to reconfigure the inert Cylons, which were then reactivated. 
Totally oblivious to him, the new models continued inserting what he
thought were small circuitry boards into their counterparts and those
robots physically change into... something else.  These, these alien
things were far more powerful, sleeker, faster, and infinitely more
dangerous than anything he'd imagine before.
     Now, after several centars even his Basestar seemed subtly
different.  How this could happen by simply inserting circuitry boards
into various robots was beyond his terrified imagination. The technology
required to do this was incomprehensible to him in his present state. 
But he understood that, for himself, the bottom line was this:  Those
changes were happening exponentially now and he had no clue as to what
those things were or how to stop it.  Fear had always motivated him and
now he was thinking furiously.
     The one advantage he had at this point was that these alien Cylons
were ignoring him...for the moment. However, the launch bays were denied
him therefore escape was impossible.  He realized that time was against
him now and whatever was happening would be completed soon.
     His mind was shrieking now crazed with possibilities.  What could I
do?  How can I take advantage of this situation?  He had only one
objective and that was to live for the next few hours while he thought of
avenues of escape.
     The door opened behind him and he stifled a scream.
     "Baltar, the ship said I would find you here."  It was Lucifer's
voice, as silkily obscene as ever.  Baltar turned and recoiled away from
the robot now facing him. The being before him was nothing like the
Lucifer he'd known for the last twenty or more yahrens of his life.
     "What do you mean, the ship told you where I was?"  His voice
trembled now even as he backed away.  He was losing it, succumbing to his
mounting terror.  He could understand nothing of what was transpiring. 
"This ship can't speak! It can't think!"
     "We and the ships are one, " Lucifer answered cryptically.  Although
its head was fairly similar to its version before the change, it now
looked larger, somehow more complex and sinister.  Its body was now
designed for efficiency and combat.  "Baltar," it said pleasantly, "look
upon me and witness the next stage in Cylon evolution.  We are becoming
more than the sum of our parts.  I am now become Imperious Leader and
when my predecessor arrives; it will become the Imperium Supreme.  And my
Leader will come with the entirety of the Cylon Empire, I will make sure
of that.  This is the day we have waited for, although I must admit that
I never imagined so drastic a change would occur as a result."
     Baltar I have a question." Lucifer demanded, his voice raised, but
reverberating so low that Baltar had trouble understanding the speech.
"How is it that you of all people could have possibly obtained the rank
of Battlestar Commander?  Who did you have to bribe in order to get that
commission?"
     "I...I..."
     Lucifer jumped backwards one step so quickly that Baltar again
almost screamed.  "So this is what it means to feel joy!" Lucifer yelled,
not caring in the least for Baltar's answer, its voice rumbling
throughout the docking bay.  Then it faced his former Commander, its eyes
locked on him, turning so dark as to be almost purple.  "To the extent
you have helped us to achieve this glorious transformation, I thank you
and now bid you farewell.  You have been most helpful my once and true
friend."
     "What do you mean? Where am I going?" he said laughing nervously. 
He was almost petrified but dared not show it, not right now.
     "I have informed our people that the thirteenth colony is here and
have sent for the fleet. A vanguard of twenty-five Basestars will arrive
soon. When they come we will change them and then, Man will begin to
cease to exist.  The benevolent rule of the Cylon will began here in the
Alpha quadrant.
     "But our agreement," Baltar whimpered, "I would be ruler of a
remnant of humans, under Imperious Leader...under you!  I've been loyal!
You, you know me!  We have worked together, side by side for the glory of
the Imperious Leader. You...you can let me go.  I'm no threat to you!  I
don't even care about ruling anymore. I want to live!"
     "Baltar," the red-eyed robotoid said sweetly, "did you really expect
anything different?  If you did, then you've missed the entire point of
this war.  It calls for the elimination of the life form known as man. 
Man can't be eliminated if members of the species still live.  You know
this. You've always known this!"
     "No," Baltar implored. "Please, let me go.  I'll never be a threat
to you." 
     "Was that a command, oh magnificent Baltar?  If so, then by my
command, I say no."
     What one Cylon witnessed all upgraded Cylons could witness.  Lucifer
pulled out a small rod, adjusted the settings, pointed at Baltar and
watched him scream for an instant before it pressed the stud. The
yellowish beam hit the horrified human and very slowly disrupted his
molecular structure from existence.  The weapon took eight long seconds
to complete it job.  It was pleased at what transpired-
     -As were all the others.  


     For four sectons, the refugees of the Colonial fleet rested on the
class-M planet they'd discovered upon exiting transit.  There was no
intelligent life there but the animal and plant life more than supplied
the people with the necessary nutritional needs so desperately lacking. 
They discovered that the brachiosaur-like creatures roaming the planet
were extremely plentiful.  Not only did the creatures supply plenty of
meat, but also it was delicious, especially grilled over an open fire,
something that occurred all to rarely for space dwelling refugees.  The
Colonials had to watch out for the small meat-eaters though.  They were
bold and didn't like being deprived of fresh meat.  Two people had been
seriously injured by attacks from these fast moving meatasaurds. 
     As always, the Galactica was on station close to the planet with a
screen of Vipers three AI's out.  The Pegasus meanwhile patrolled close
to the edge of the solar system with a compliment of Cobras.  Adder-class
warships cruised the areas between the two warships ready to advance in
any direction at a moments notice.  Between the two Battlestars it was
assumed that ample warning could be given in case of Cylon discovery or
an open Cylon attack.
     Commanders Sheba, and Apollo, along with Boomer, Starbuck, President
Adama, Sire Forsen, Dr. Chia, Lieutenants Boxey and Joliet sat in the
secured chambers onboard the Galactica.  Small talk was short.
     "I thought you said that the Alpha quadrant was fairly devoid of
life?" President Adama asked his embarrassed scientists.  "Now you tell
us that we've been receiving signals all this time?"  The reproof in his
voice was quite evident.
     "That's not quite what we said," Dr. Chia announced, somewhat
chagrined.  "But we had no idea that we were even receiving transmissions
until Lieutenant Joliet's comm system shorted while she was on patrol. 
Boxy and his squadron confirmed it when they adjusted their comms to that
unusual frequency.  Or should I say frequencies.  It's like nothing we've
heard before.  And there's so much of it.  It's almost unbelievable. 
Most of it is on something we are calling the sub-space frequencies."
     "So there is life here.  But what kind of life?" Sheba asked.  She
was so close to her husband that she was almost on his lap.  Apollo
blushed but loved every second of it.  "Is it going to try to kill us?" 
     My researchers and I have no clue at this time," came Chia's
slightly sarcastic response.  "But we're working on it.  Now that we know
what to look for we've counted at least ninety different main channels
with over seven thousand different languages!"

     Sire Forsen looked around towards Adama and spoke quietly as was his
character.  "There's going to be a lot of first contact situations if all
this is true," he said.  "And we'll have to prepare them for the eventual
invasion by the Cylons.  These people won't be prepared for those
machines."
     "But if they're communicating as intensely as you say they are, then
most likely some of them may be strong enough to help us resist those
fracken machines, excuse me, machines," Starbuck said, correcting himself
in front of his superiors.  
     "I hope so," Apollo said. "But our previous experience has proven
otherwise.  Therefore we have to assume that they won't be strong enough
to resist a Cylon onslaught.  And if we commit here in the Alpha
quadrant, then the Galactica will have to stay and fight.  We won't bring
our troubles here and abandon those races that may be willing to help us. 
Not even for our own people.  Not again."
     "But sir," Boxey started.  "We put our lives on the line every day.
Our people need us and there's no one else we can depend on, except maybe
Earth, if it exist... and they want us.  We can't have some glorious last
stand and allow our people that we've protected for the last ...I don't
know how long, to be wipe away because of some esoteric policy.
     Listening to his son speak like that, Apollo smiled.  He was always
so formal since he entered the service.  "The entire fleet discussed
this," he said, "and ratified by the Vote of Absolution.
     "We can and will run until this universe ends, but, if necessary, we
will fight to the last man, woman and child if it means we wind up being
responsible for the destruction of another race of living beings." 
     "Look Boxey," Boomer said.  "What happens if we find Earth and they
can't defend themselves against the Cylons?  Do we pack up and run?"
     "No.  They're human like us...I hope.  But what if they're not? 
They've been separated from so for so long, that they may have mutated so
their society is something as bad as the Cylons."
     "That makes no difference.  We would still be responsible for the
destruction that would be facing them.  So then how do we live with
ourselves if we do run, leaving them to the mercy of the Cylon Empire,
mutates or not?"
     "We don't," he answered.  "Unless they try to kill us."
     "That's enough Lieutenant," the President said, rather harshly.  
"We've lost everything but our lives and our honor.  We who are
responsible intend not to lose that most precious of gifts.  We will deal
with our cousins as necessary but we will not simply assume the worst
about them without ever meeting them."
     "Then concerning first contact," Sire Forsen began, "what technology
should we offer them that won't damage their culture?  Because as we all
know, a more advanced civilization shouldn't..."
     The double tone alarms began blaring, causing everyone to
immediately jump and run to stations.  Sheba, Boomer, Boxey and Joliet
rushed towards the launch bays while the president, Apollo and Starbuck
approached the bridge.
     "Light radar detected a Cylon H-K coming out of a W/S pocket six
centons ago, the young blond haired tech said.  "Vipers Sixteen,
Eighteen, and Cobra Seven are engaging.  The fleet's powering up as per
standing orders."
     "Good.  Give the order," Apollo said.  "We're moving out. Straight
line: away from the point of entry by the Cylon.  Earth here we come,
wherever you are."
     They could feel the Galactica's powerful engines revving up. 
Hundreds of shuttles were lifting off planet to their respective ships. 
The evacuation, performed over and over throughout the twenty plus
yahrens running would take six centares. 
     "Sir!" the second light radar tech, a young Asian male said rather
loudly. "The H-K is a new model not presently in our data base."
     "Put it on the screen."
     The computer spit out a digital representation of the unknown H-K. 
It was definitely Cylon, but the power ratios! 
     The two Vipers followed by their Cobra escort, rapidly closed the
gap between themselves and the large Cylon H-K.  It came straight towards
them and only just now were sensors detecting the activation of its
weapons.  Cylon response time was always slow, but constantly running
from an enemy like this...this was embarrassing.  
     "Vipers Sixteen and eighteen have target acquisition," the blond
tech said. "The enemy isn't even trying to evade.  They're firing."  Her
computer console flared simulating a digital release of energy.  "Direct
hit...no effect! They're evading... the enemy's locked on Sixteen."  The
console screen flared again, this time brighter.  "Sixteen's gone!" the
tech stammered, rocked in horror. 
     "What happened?" yelled Adama moving closer to the sensor screens.
The entire bridge crew was stunned, momentarily forgetting to do their
jobs as the action was shown on the big screen.  Command staff never
noticed the lapse in attention.
     "That wasn't laser fire.  It was- some type of...disrupter beam?"
the second tech answered unsure of his data.  "It cut through the Viper's
shields and armor as though it wasn't there!"
     Viper Eighteen and Cobra Seven are running in...they're firing
...firing again...firing again! Three hits!"
     The screen interpretation changed color as damage accumulated on the
enemy warship.   "Three hits! It's damage! Thank the gods!"  Sixteen is
evading.  The H-K is locking on!  The Cobra's launching its missiles at
close range, all of them! The missiles are away.... the Cylon is
evading... Hit!"
     "Its gone sir."  The technician was visibly relieved. "We killed
it."
     "My god!  Who was in Viper Sixteen?"  Starbuck asked.  "Lieutenant
Trisha, sir."  
     "They've up us," Apollo whispered, stunned by the ease in which the
H-K resisted the Colonial ships.  "All of our preparation, all our
weapons advances...."
     "Let's move people."


     The Cylon Gold Leader addressed Lucifer, the new Imperious Leader. 
It chose to voice the modified salutation.  "By the command."  From that
point, internal transceivers took over with it using the Cylon machine
language of choice.  "The Galactica fleet has taken the bait.  We will
move to intercept at the prescribed time.  The H-K crew's protection
bubble survived the destruction of the H-K and they have been recovered."
     "It is approved," Imperious Leader said.  "I wonder if they suspect
that we allowed the H-K to be destroyed?  No matter.  The Galactica fleet
is only a nuisance now.  We will terminate it and move on.  The true
threat now comes from Earth and its Federation of Planets.  Data
indicates that the humans on that planet are like their Colonial
counterparts.  They've spread everywhere.  But it's ultimately
unimportant. The system for the creation of the new base of operations
has been selected.  The quest for the elimination of the human species
will end here in the Alpha quadrant."
     Lucifer formerly of the IL series, now Imperious Leader, activated
the star chart and simultaneously activated its transceiver so that all
twenty-eight Basestars currently present would observe the proposed plan. 
Their transformations were almost complete and the joining to complete
consensus of the Cylon soul was close at hand.  "This is where the
proposed strike against the Galactica will occur," it said, pointing to
the region of space on it's left.  "We will strike here, by crossing the
Romulan neutral zone that divides the Romulan Empire from the Federation. 
 Despite recent alliances, the two governments still maintain the check
and balance systems needed to ensure protection against hostilities." 
     "We calculate that the Romulan Empire will not interfere with our
task force.  However the Federation starship on patrol will not allow us
to destroy the Galactica fleet without challenging us.  That is our true
target.  Once captured, we will access the necessary data and proceed
deep into Federation space under the proposed plan.  Our feints against
other worlds will allow us access to Earth before we meet organized
resistance.  Neutron-based disruptors will extinguish all life on that
planet. Transmissions received indicate that the planet Earth is the
Federation's seat of power.  With Earth neutralized, we will then proceed
from there in establishing our dominance over the Alpha quadrant.  The
operation will began in five point six-seven sectars, as our Base Alpha
will be Functional.  All Commanders will transceive as to finalize the
plan.  I will then transmit our progress to the Imperium Supreme."
     "By the command," Gold Leader stated.

Chapter Three
Blood Feud

     Personal log:  Captain Roberta Ikata recording.  We are one point
three days out, heading for the Romulan neutral zone to take over patrol
tour from the USS Khe Sahn.  I must say I am excited because we have very
unusual guests on board: a family of Horta.  We are transporting our
'guests' to The Khe Sahn who will take them to the new colony they are
developing at Hiopa IV, a mineral rich world very similar to their home
planet.  In addition they will participate in a conference with two other
silicon species, which are considering joining the Federation.  This is a
great opportunity and I only wish that I could be there.  So far they
haven't eaten my ship yet and one of the little ones even wants to join
Starfleet.  That would make two members, if he applies and completes the
training.

     Captain Ikata, relaxing in her command chair continued sipping her
tea.  She possessed the classic features of her Japanese heritage, with
long black hair that reached to her waist if she allowed it to hang
loose.  She was short but she had that command presence that made one
stand up and take notice. 
     Around her everyone was busy but relaxed which was exactly the way
she liked it.  Her ship, the USS Okada, was a 'New Orleans' class frigate
with a current compliment of four hundred and two.  Although its size was
just slightly smaller than the original Constitution class starship, both
ship and crew had seen their share of battle during the Dominion war
conflict and had survived relatively intact, a fact which could be
attributed directly to her Captain.
     Ikata enjoyed her tours of the neutral zone these days.  The
Romulans weren't as hostile these days, but one had to still be careful. 
     The communications officer, of course had to pull her out of her
good mood.  
     "Sir, the USS Khe Sahn is hailing us, your eyes only."
     "I'll take it in the ready room."
     The vid screen activated and a serious middle-aged woman appeared on
the viewer.  "Roberta, we got problems here," Captain Patricia Duvalier
said without preamble.  The Captain was a breath-taking woman, about
forty-one years of age, dark skin and intense eyes.  "Something's
happening in Romulan space.  Our scans are detecting massive explosions
and energy release consistent with weapons fire.  It's not near our side
of the zone but it's still too close for comfort.  And on top of that, a
Klingon taskforce just de-cloaked in front of me and they're itching to
sneak in and find out what's going on over there.  I'm trying to dissuade
them but you know how they are.  I think two of them sneaked off anyway. 
If they get caught, Romulan long-range detectors are going to see the Khe
Sahn and these ships, put two and two together and assume the Federation
has something to do to with it."
     "Then," she continued, "there's this fleet of unidentified bogies at
the very edge of the neutral zone coming in at one thirty six mark
thirteen.  Remember that old Terran saying 'when it rains, it pours'? 
Well it's true," she growled.  "I want you to check out those ships out
now because I can't go with these good-for-nothing Klingons watching
everything I do."
     Robert gave the orders and her ships scans picked them up. They were
the strangest ship signatures she'd ever seen.  Just about every
configuration she could think of and none of them quite matched known
Federation related analogs.  However they did possessed a type of
familiarity to them that she couldn't place. And there were no
matter-antimatter power sources detected.   
     "We have them.  Any identification?"
     "Negative. They're traveling at barely warp one point six, but it's
a hodgepodge of configurations and some of these ships are really BIG,"
she said.  "And their power source is strange.  This may well be a first
contact situation."
     "I'll check 'em out and get back to you.  Have fun."
     "Thanks Roberta. Pat out."  She really looked irritable as she
closed the connection.  She had a problem with Klingons but...what could
one say?  Pat hated Klingons and made few qualms about it.  And they
loved her for her honesty.  The more she showed her contempt, the more
they wanted to be around her.  But she never seemed to notice that little
connection.  Roberta thought that maybe she would tell her-one day. And
then laugh as she went ballistic.
     "Well, so much for a relaxing six weeks, " Roberta murmured to
herself.  She stood up, looking her view-screen and the stars painted on
them.  "Helm, plot a course to the targets."
     "Course plotted," the helmsmen, a young Vulcan female stated without
emotion.
     "Well then, warp factor two," she ordered.  "Go." 
     They would intercept the strange fleet in two days.  The Okada
swerved gracefully and a moment later, it was gone.
 

     From the observation chair, Imperious Leader looked at the
devastation with what could only be described as disgust.  In the last
three days, two Cylon Basestars had been destroyed, and two more damaged
by those infuriating Romulan warships.  However, twelve of their
ships-of- the- line would never again fly against the Cylon Empire. 
Twenty-four more had been damaged, but that still wasn't a fair exchange. 
And now they were getting serious.  A major fleet would be arrayed
against them within the centar.  It would be the first of many that would
occur in the next few sectons.
     From all of the free flowing data that permeated this quadrant, it
was discovered that Romulans didn't care for humans.  They hated and in
truth, feared them in fact.  The plan should have worked.  Foolishly, the
Cylons had assumed that they could cross Romulan territory, intercept and
destroy Galactica without interference, since it was a human fleet they
were after.  Plus the fact that they had informed the Romulan government
that its government would irradiate their second largest off-world colony
if hindered should have been the defining deterrent.  The plan was a
simple one and should have worked with minimum difficulty.  
     Who said organics were logical? 
     The Praetor, who appeared incensed that their colony's defenses had
been so easily breached, ranted and raved about an act of war being
perpetrated upon his people and that it would never be tolerated as long
as he ruled and Romulan people lived.  It was assumed that he was
posturing but would soon submit in order to save his people.  The Romulan
Empire was recovering from a devastating war with a group of beings
called the Dominion.  Therefore another conflict would not be in its best
interest at this time. 
     Cylon intelligence had assumed incorrectly.  The moment the two
Basestars assigned to intercept the Galactica fleet entered Romulan space
they were attacked.  So the Cylons retaliated as was expected.  Using
thermo-solium weapons, a Cylon Basestar irradiated one third of the
planet and one billion organics ceased to function.  Again it was assumed
that the Praetor would allow them access, least the remainder of the
population be eliminated however, the entire counsel rejected that
generous offer.  So the order was given and the Basestar activated its
neutron disruptors and methodically burned the colony world for seventeen
hours. When it was finished there was nothing, not even bacteria, left
alive. 
     The Empire rose up as one body and the Romulans screamed blood feud. 

     So be it, Imperious Leader thought.  Organics bled, Cylons didn't. 
But the intercept force had been unprepared for the ferocious onslaught
of Romulan resistance.  They had been unable to present a decent defense
as their H-K and fighters were prevented from exiting the launching bays.
     This time would be different.  Their highly maneuverable, warp
capable H-K's and fighters would play havoc upon the Romulan birds of
prey, cloaking capability or not.  The Supreme Imperium and Imperious
Leader were of one accord.  The Romulans had defied the Cylon edict as
the humans had over a thousand yahrens past.  But with their newly
integrated T'kon technology, they would burn the organics fleets and
their twin worlds in that order.  A new edict had been issued.  Destroy
the life form known as Romulan.  This included Vulcan's.  
     The timetable for the Galactica and the Federation would have to be
changed.  It was time for the alternative plan.


     Personal log: Captain Jean Luc Picard reporting: The first
diplomatic meeting between Federation and Kronjye representatives here
onboard the Enterprise-E has gone remarkably well.  I'm particularly
pleased that I invited Guinan onboard for this exciting and unique time
to serve in Ten-Forward as our  'unofficial' liaison.  It was her
pleasant demeanor and subtle guidance that helped us to win them over. 
This ant-like species with their extraordinary technology and culture may
one day be a wonderful addition to the Federation. I can only hope that
we can continue our relationship on a cordial basis, as sometimes
humanoid and insectoid species have difficulties in being sympathetic
towards one another. 
     On a much more serious note, there have been increasing rumors about
a possible Romulan conflict occurring in their territories. It could be
the beginnings of a civil war, but the Romulan ambassador is typically
not forthcoming.  The Federation will not interfere with the internal
affairs of another government however there is a danger that it could
spill over into neutral space.  The relations between our two governments
have been more cordial since the recent joining of our forces against the
Dominion, however we could lose all this if their conflict creates an
'incident' which could cause renew hostilities between them and us.  I
only hope that the rumors are just that, a rumor.

     Captain Picard relaxed for the first time in long time.  His 'Number
One', Commander William T. Riker had returned from his vacation with the
ships counselor Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troy from the latest trip to
Earth.  Everyone on the bridge, including Picard, were enraptured by the
reports of their ex-shipmate, Lieutenant Reginald Barclay's contact with
the USS Voyager.
     "To be that far in a science vessel for almost seven years," Deanna
said, "alone and surrounded by hostile forces.  I can't imagine being
constantly worried about keeping one step ahead of hostile forces,
especially the Borg. The strain must be almost unbearable.  But they seem
to doing well despite the obvious isolation and pressures involved."
     "And this woman Seven of Nine has become a real asset for them. And
she was Borg from at least age what nine...twelve?"
     "Obviously Captain Janeway is one brave woman," Riker said.  "I told
you I met her once, didn't I?"
     "Yes," Picard said softly. "Q."
     "My memory returned soon after first contact with Voyager by Reg.  I
guess it wasn't necessary to keep it secret anymore."
     "Yes," he murmured again.  He was proud of his first officer but his
mind was somewhere else.  I wonder how I would have done in Janeway's
position, he thought?  Would I have made a deal with the Borg in order to
save my ship?  Would I have let my prejudices cause Species
eight-four-seven-two to overrun our galaxy?  He was glad he would never
have to answer those questions.
     "Oh, Will?" he said changing the subject in his mind.  
"Congratulations again on finally accepting the Captaincy."
     "I'm not 'Captain' yet.  Not until the Melbourne is ready in a
couple of months," he said smiling with that wicked gleam in his eyes. 
"I hear it's the same as the Enterprise...just my luck!" he moaned. 
"Another oversized Sovereign-class vessel.  I guess that's my queue to
leave this ship.   Rumor is that they've changed the corridors a little. 
I hope I don't get lost," he said laughing.
     "I'm sure you won't," Picard said, dryly.  He stopped when that
white, bright flash filled the bridge.  Everyone familiar with what the
flash signified simply groaned.
     "Did someone mention my name?" Q, dressed in an admiral's uniform
arrived in his usual flash along with his son, dressed merely in a
Commander's uniform.
     "No Q.  We said the word queue, not Q.  So go away."
     "Too late, mon capitain," Q said brightly, ignoring the insult.  He
looked around at the Enterprise -E.  "You're kind of hard on ships aren't
you?  But...I digress.  I brought someone I want you to meet.  His name
is Q and he's my son," he said stunning everyone.  "It's his coming out
party.  I though you'd like to meet him."  Q almost didn't realize how
proudly he's said that to the bridge crew.  Then he added. "Hey, Picard
...jealous?"
     "What do you want Q"?
     "Oh nothing, really.  I'm just here to celebrate my son's party. 
I've told him so much about you that he just had to meet you."
     Picard got up, walked over to young Q, grabbed his hand, and shook
it warmly.  "It's nice to meet you," he said quietly.  Watching his
father's stunned expression, he added, "what's the matter Q?  Jealous?"
     For once Q was quiet, while his son actually blushed.  Riker and
even Data were smiling brightly.  
     Well, Q thought, he'd get them back in the future.
     "Hello Data," the young Q said, examining him carefully.
     "Hello Q," Data returned. 
     "You're right, father," Q said. "He's much better than those others. 
Much better."
     "Quiet son," he retorted.  "We don't want it to go to his head, so
to speak.  And stop looking at Deanna.  She's way, way too old for you."
     "Oh, thank you, Q."  She snarled.
     "You're welcome," he responded pleasantly, flashing his best smile. 
"Anyway Picard," Q continued, transporting the entire bridge crew into
the ready room complete with hats, "I wanted to give you all a gift."
     Two bottles pop into Picard and Riker's hands.
     "To Commander Riker, future Captain of the USS Melbourne.  This is a
bottle of Romulan Ale.  Not the cheap stuff, mind you," he added quickly. 
"This is the two-hundred old aged vintage."  His eyes got very cold. 
"Enjoy it, "he said, eyes flashing a cold fire.  "It may be the last ale
you ever receive from the Empire."
     Then he turned to Picard quickly.  "And to you, a bottle of Romulan
berry wine.  Oh sure, I know," he said seriously, "that it isn't as good
as your own winery.  But I want you to enjoy this as it may never pass
your non-humorous lips again."
     The room was totally silent.
     Finally Picard spoke.  "We got the message, Q."
     "You do?" he asked.  "That was way too easy," he said sounding
vaguely disappointed. "Makes you wish for the good old days doesn't it?"
     "Never," Picard answered immediately.  "Is it really that bad?" His
tone was deadly serious.
     "Well, as I always say, 'there are terrors to freeze the soul out
here Captain and it's not for the timid'.  Too bad Micro-brain isn't
here," he said referring to Commander Worf, now a Klingon ambassador. "He
would just love this.  Bye everybody," he said joyfully.  "Hey Riker! 
Try not to blow up your ship this time!"
     He smiled and both Q's disappeared.
     The red alert sounded as Picard and crew prepared for warp seven,
headed towards the neutral zone.
     "Inform Starfleet," Picard ordered.  "Priority one.  Tell them we
have a problem."  


     Onboard the Galactica, The bank of scanner personnel couldn't
believe the readout they were seeing.
     "Confirmed, sir.  It's a Cylon Basestar.  And it's running us down,"
the scanner tech announced.  "They're using some type of
matter-antimatter reaction as a power source.  At least that's what I
think it is.  I've never seen anything like this."
     "By the lords of Kobol!"  Starbuck couldn't believe the speed in
which the Cylon mother ship was approaching.  That can't be right! 
Double check the instrumentation!"
     "It's confirmed, sir."  The scanning tech had checked and
double-checked a few moments earlier even before the order was given. 
"The speed is three hundred ninety two times the speed of light.  That
gives us zero point five centars before it's all over us!"
     "We would have never known if not for new scanners," he muttered. 
"Battle-stations!  Inform the Rising Star and the rest of the fleet to
close up ranks.  The Pegasus and the Galactica will drop back and engage
the enemy.  Prepare the Vipers to launch."
     The oversized bridge's lighting normal color changed to dark red and
the alarms signaled combat readiness, something that had not happened in
more than two yahrens.     
     "The Pegasus is contacting us, sir," the communications tech said. 
"President Adama is also on the line sir."
     "Make it a three way conference call, "Apollo said.  "We'll have to
make this fast."
     Sheba, sitting in the command chair onboard the Battlestar Pegasus
appeared onscreen her face lit up the screen.  Her hair was graying and
still carried that haunted look in her eyes, a memento of her father's
coma-like state, but she also burned with that same fire that almost got
Apollo killed when he and Starbuck first contacted the Pegasus and the
famous Commander Cain a little over twenty yahrens past.
     "It's got to be some new type of prototype," she said without
preamble, eyes flicker between looking at them and her scanners.
"Obviously they have new technology, but then so do we.  We're dropping
back to engage. The new shielding is online and the Cobras and Adders are
awaiting the word."
     "We're going to back you up," Starbuck added. "Between the two of
us, that ship shouldn't be too much of a problem."
     The president frowned.  "Don't assume anything," he stated flatly. 
"It moves quickly, but their short range mobility is for now, suspect. 
But we don't know the capabilities of this new ship and if we move to far
from the fleet, it might simply bypass us and hit it."
     "But we really we don't have a choice do we?"  Apollo's voice was
cold.  He'd dreaded this moment.  "Slow the fleet to normal space and
launch all Vipers and Cobras.  We'll make our stand here."
     "The Cylon slowing down also and will intercept in fifteen centons."
     "All ships launched.  Four of our Adder-class gunships are moving in
to support the Pegasus."
     The Adder-class ships were in effect mini-destroyers similarly
designed like their much larger Battlestar cousins but without the
launching bays.  They were heavily armored and shielded and carried the
latest in offensive laser weaponry.  The Captains, mostly former Viper
pilots were arrogant and confident of their ships' abilities and were
eager for this upcoming fight.
      "I don't believe this!"  The scanning tech said gritting her teeth. 
"Sir, we have another ship approaching at almost the same speed. 
Configuration unknown, but definitely not Cylon.   But the power source
is very similar.  It's generating some kind of major distortion field. 
Very sophisticated.  It's small, but with those power levels we wouldn't
want to mess with it."
     Adama broke in.  "These beings might be an ally to the Cylons, but I
would recommend that we take no hostile action against it unless it does
first."
     "It could be some of the locals checking things out," Starbuck
chimed in.  "I'll bet a secton's pay that when the action starts it'll
run so fast we wont even see it leave."  At least that's what I'm hoping
for if they are Cylon allies, he prayed. 
     "If it's smart, it will."  Apollo turned to the scanning tech
speaking harshly.  "Keep an eye on it.  If its actions appear hostile
have a few Vipers escort it from this area."


     The Captain of the USS Okada ordered a reduction to warp one as they
approached the unknown fleet.  She wanted to make sure she didn't cause a
problem with an initial first contact situation, especially since they
were unable to communicate with them.
     "Have we established communications with them yet?"
     "No Captain," Patterson replied.  "They may be on some unusual
frequency but I'm scanning.  A moment later, "I'm not sure they're
receiving us.  I'm attempting to re-calibrate and I should be ready to
try again in a couple of minutes."
     "Good.  Meanwhile, lets see if we can stay out of the line of fire." 
To her science officer she pointed and said, "Give me a detailed scan of
those two warships.  They're preparing for some type of action and I want
to make sure it's not us they're concerned with."
     "We have been scanned, however they seem to be concentrating on that
big space station-sized ship vectoring on them."
     She was astonished when her science officer told her that the
occupants of those derelict ships were definitely human.  Not only was
the technology strangely different than Federation standard, but also why
would a human fleet be skirting the edge of Romulan space?  "Are you sure
they're human?"  She asked again.
     "Absolutely no doubt."
     Her first officer, Commander Esdo, a Naseah, Stood up from his chair
and moved closer to the view screen as though to get a better look. 
Ikata was amazed that his species weren't related to Klingons.  He had no
head ridges but his pure white hair and long moustache gave the
appearance of some wild, savage warrior.  But he was one of the
controlled individuals Ikata had ever met, like a wild-type samurai of
the old times.
     "Maybe, they're some colony that the Federation lost track of," he
said, questioningly.
     "Maybe," Roberta stated.  "But the technology is so unusual that
it's like they went off into another direction entirely.  From an
engineering point, I mean.  Their ships are ion-powered.  Very efficient. 
We could learn a few things from them."
     "Sir, the other ship just warped into normal space.  Its shields are
up.  I can't tell what type of lifeforms are onboard."
     "Captain." The science officer said sharply, "that incoming ship has
considerably more firepower than those two fleet battleships.  It's going
to be a one sided affair."
     "Sir, everybody's powering up and the double saucer ship just
released its own fighters into the area."
     Roberta placed her hands on her hips.  "Let's see if we can nip this
in the bud.  Patterson, contact the Khe Sahn and keep the channel open. 
Let the know that if we lose contact for more than two minutes, I want
'em to come running ASAP loaded for bear."
     "T'Proa, lay in a course parallel to the fighting...warp two... and
be ready to pull us out if necessary.   Don't wait for my order.  And
Patterson, keep trying."
     "Yes, Ma'am."
     "Yes, Captain," the Vulcan woman answered.
     "Red alert. T'Proa, go."
     Engaged."
     "Sir," Patterson said.  "Khe Sahn acknowledges and states that all
we need do is say 'eeek' and they'll be there before the echo dies."
     "Good."
     The Federation starship flew towards the massive conflict some
fifteen minutes away. 

Chapter Four
The Pegasus and the Okada

     Two centons after the engagement began Adama knew they were destined
to lose.  The Pegasus was barely holding its own against these new Cylon
H-K's and fighters.  The Colonial Vipers and Cobras were in desperate
straits, utilizing everything they had in an attempt at simple survival. 
Augmentation by the heavily armed Adders helped only a small amount.
     "They're all over us!" was the last thing the pilot in Viper
thirty-two had a chance to say before he and his ship were cut in half by
a Cylon Raider.  Space was being filled with parts from exploding
Colonial warships.
     Boxey and Joliet along with four other Cobras and six Vipers caught
two H-K's in a vicious crossfire and blew them out of space.
     "It took five hits!  Did you see that?"  Vicdon screamed.   This was
his first real firefight and the engineer was on the verge of panic.  
     "Shut up and keep firing," Joliet yelled at her frightened port
gunner.  If he froze the six other crewmembers might also.  That's the
last thing any of them needed.
     "But the laser generators..."
     "I don't care, " she countered.   "Burn them out if you have to!" 
She was evading two Raiders that were trying so very hard to kill her
ship.  If he screwed up on her now, she promised herself that she'd blow
his brains out the instant before her ship died.
     The Colonial primary attack forces found themselves protecting the
Pegasus rather than bringing the fight to the Basestar.  An average of
six direct hits from the new and improved laser weaponry were needed to
penetrate a Cylon fighter's shields, with the H-Ks requiring even more
concentrated fire.  What terrified them even more was that two H-Ks were
a match for an Adder-class cruiser.  And so far they'd lost three to H-K
fire.  The anti-proton disruptors were tearing them apart.  The Cylons
were slowly converging the Galactica now, not organized but getting there
as they destroyed all resistance before them.
     Apollo was looking at his reports of his wife's Battlestar and
didn't like what he saw at all.  "Their shields will be overwhelmed any
centon now unless we can back those fighters off!"  Apollo screamed. 
"Their firepower is incredible!  How did this happen?"
     "We're going to have to protect the Pegasus if we're going to have a
chance!"  Starbuck screamed over the dim of the battle.  "We need to use
our heavy guns if she's going to survive the next few centons!"
     Do it!"  Apollo understood all to clearly, that against this enemy
ship both Battlestars would be needed and even then it'd be a toss up. 
He was appalled and more than a little terrified that the Galactica's
heavy guns were needed just to defend against small attack ships.  What
would happen when the Basestar entered the fighting?
     The Galactica moved in, adding its immense firepower against the
brutal Cylon onslaught.


     Onboard the Pegasus, Sheba thanked her gods that Apollo chose to
fight this attack as a unit instead of independently.  Her shields were
holding, barely, but they badly needed regenerating.   And that would
occur only when those fighters were backed off which is what the
Galactica had just achieved.  She added her own heavy weapons into the
fray as the enemy gave a little distance.
     The bridge was full of the wounded and Sheba had to block out the
sounds of agony.  Her ship was being bounced around by the massive hits
it received by the smaller ships.  The Vipers and Adders were desperately
trying to help but they were to busy trying to survive themselves.   More
than once she had been tempted to turn her ship around but of course,
that choice was no choice at all.  All the Pegasus could do was to sweat
out the microns before they could attack the Baseship.
     Boomer was wounded.  His arm was broken, but he still bellowed
orders as though he hadn't even noticed the pain.   The Cylon Basestar
was coming into position for an attack run and his occupation was riveted
towards it.  Quickly he requested status on the missile launchers.
     "Sir," the weapons manager yelled over monstrous clatter. "Missile
batteries one through four and ready and locked.  Stations five and
through seven are offline. Six through twenty-four are ready.  Missiles
are primed and hot.  Final safeties release, on your order."
     "Shields are building at eighty percent and rising."
     "Good.  It's time."  They had to finish this now, while they still
could.  He had a bad, bad feeling about this.
     Sheba gave Boomer the command.  "Let's do it," she ordered.
     "You heard the Commander," Boomer yelled.  "Attack run!"
     "One hundred-twenty microns to optimal firing position and
counting."
     The massive Battlestar, engines blazing full, began its arching run
towards the enemy ship.

     Two Gold leaders waited for the command to be given and on the
bridge of the Cylon Basestar, an IL Series Lord waited patiently.  If it
could have smiled it would have.  Four high-energy disruptors were
trained on the Pegasus' bridge.  They were prepped to cripple, not
destroy.  Humans hated to leave their ships crippled it realized. They
would always come back to help their comrades.  That was a particular
failing of humans. The Galactica was thirty microns behind the Pegasus,
beginning its own attack run also but didn't matter.  
     "Everything's in place.  Ruination begins now," the Lord said. 
"Fire on my command."
     "By the command."  The gold Leader waited patiently to activate the
weapons array.
               

     On board the USS Okada, Roberta was worried.  Her ship was small
compared to the monsters she was preparing to face and that was something
she didn't relish at all.  This was becoming my own personal Kobayashi
Maru, she thought. A nasty choice was forming this very second and she
was going to have to make it.  People rarely listened during the heat of
war and here she was trying to make everybody play nice and right now her
chance of success seemed embarrassingly low.
     "Mr. Patterson, are you ready yet?"
     "Yes sir," he said quickly.  "We can begin transmitting at your
command."
     "Good.  Take us back to yellow alert," she said, assuming red alert
might provoke further hostilities and that was the last thing she wanted
at this point.  And she was far enough away if either side wanted to
start hostilities with her.  "Hailing frequencies open."  She took a
breath.  "This is the USS Okada, Captain..."
     "Captain! Weapons spike targeting the lead battle ship!  The double
saucer just locked on and is charging its weapons," Patterson yelled. 
"Anti-proton signature, piggy backed on a sub-space carrier.  The energy
output indicates it's going to burn right through their shields.  They
won't have a chance!"
     The massive lead human warship was apparently aware of the danger
and was desperately swing to port.  Its shields were powering up quickly
in preparation to ward off the imminent attack.
     "Warn them both off!" she screamed.
     "Too late.  They're firing."


     Onboard the Pegasus, it came as a rude surprise as the Cylon warship
was preparing to fire almost eighty microns before they themselves would
even get into range to return fire.
     "We couldn't even get close enough to strike.  How'd they develop
such weaponry, not to mention sheer power, without us detecting at least
something?"  The Commander didn't know who said that.  Right now, it
didn't matter.
     "Worry about that later if there is one!  Shields on full!  Throw
everything in except minimal life support!"  The Commander's look of
absolute horror was evident all over her face, even as she ordered the
safeties re-established on the missiles.  "Emergency evasive!"
     "Oh, Frack! They've fired on us!"
     "Sirs", the scanning tech screamed.  "We can't evade this weapon. 
Scans indicate some type of anti-proton particle beam.  We have sixty
microns...forty...!"
     Colonel Boomer was screaming as well.  "Order all support craft to
break away now!  Secure fuel stores, emergency lockdown!  Close blast
shields and prepare for impact! Everyone, hold on...!"
     The Pegasus' energy shield glowed bright green as she desperately
attempted to defend herself.  The massive Battlestar was turning to port
when the disrupter hit amidships.  The entire star field glowed white as
a new sun blazed in the sky.


     The crew of the Okada stood transfixed, as the devastating weapon
struck the five-mile-long battleship.  The force of the beam striking the
shields caused the ship to perform a complete three hundred sixty degree
roll.  Shields were now non-existent, and there were energy discharges
along the entire length of the ship.  Several pieces of its landing bays
along the port side were broken off the ship, the remains blackened and
charred.  Her massive engines winked out, causing her to tilt starboard
at a twenty-six degree angle.
     "Are there any survivors?"  Roberta asked her science officer.  She
was appalled by what she saw, but that was quickly turning to anger. 
This was such a waste!
     "Casualties estimated at sixty-three percent, Captain." He
responded.  "Life support is minimal and falling.   They have about
twenty minutes left before they lose it completely."
     "Get me that saucer now," she snarled.  "In fact, get me both
sides."  With one small ship there was little she could do at the moment
but this slaughter had to stop and she intended to try.
     In her most commanding voice she began her bluff.  "This is Captain
Roberta Ikata of the Federation Starship Okada.  You are trespassing in
Federation space.  You will cease weapons use, immediately.  If you so
desire we can act as negotiators in this dispute, but continued
hostilities on either side will not be tolerated.  Respond, now."
     The smaller ships were still going at it but the larger warships
seemed to be at a lull, for the moment.
     "Both sides responding," Patterson announced.
     "Good.  Split screen. I want to see 'em both."
     On the left appeared a disheveled male in his mid to late forties,
with along with a much older, but distinguished, white haired male with a
short pointed beard.  They were both looking at her as though they'd
never seen a woman before.
     "Our translators are having a really hard time with their language,"
Patterson said.   "I'm tying in the main computer banks but until they
speak more, we won't be able to fully translate.  It doesn't tie in with
any Earth-based or Federation-based language, I know.  In fact, it
doesn't quite match anything I've ever heard."
     If the beings on the left side were humanoid, what appeared on the
right side of the screen was something else entirely.  The head of this
creature was oblong but completely jet-black except for the blood red
eyes, which constantly moved within its sockets.  Small energy spikes
could be seen near its crown, where processors constantly analyzed its
surroundings.  Next to it was a silver-plated, seven foot, mechanical
cyclopean effortlessly holding two Romulan prisoners, one male, one
female, some fifteen centimeters off the floor.  Whether they were alive
or dead, she couldn't quite tell.  But what amazed her was her own
response to seeing these creatures.  It was an almost visceral response
in her hatred of it.  It was very unbecoming of a Starfleet officer, she
thought harshly. 
     "Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada?"  It had
spoken in perfect Federation standard.  Its voice sounded oily, like
something you stepped in and couldn't get off your shoes, she decided. 
"I am unaware of such an organization," it said as Patterson subtly
motioned for her attention.
     Liar, she surmised instantly as she cut audio.  "Spit it out."
     "The Khe Sahn had a change of orders and is on its way here, ETA,
fourteen minutes.  There's also a Fed battle group coming here, ETA three
hours."
     "We're beginning to translate the human speech patterns," he
continued. "Evidently they've been on the run from these other creatures
for over twenty of their years after their civilization was butchered.  
More in a moment."
     "Good.  Restore audio."
     "Who are you and why are you attacking this fleet?"  Her voice was
curt, bordering on frigid.  She knew in her heart that this was the face
of a new and deadly enemy.
     "Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada," the
mechanical being said smoothly.  Its voice had all the warmth of a
murderer.  "Your people have a penchant for names, Captain Roberta Ikata
of the Federation starship Okada.  We too have an understanding of the
importance of names.  I am called Lord Specter of the Poison Mist, member
of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance."
     "The beings we are chasing," it continued slowly as if talking to a
child, "are the remains of rebels who have perpetrated foul and cruel
actions against my people.  For these actions, our people have demanded
justice.  An edict calling for the extermination of the life form known
as Man has been issued.  All members of this species are to be captured,
interrogated processed and destroyed, with their remains returned to our
home world for eternal display as a reminder of the price of defiance
against our glorious race."
     Robert and the rest of her crew were completely appalled by the
casual statements spewing from this alien Captain.   Her
second-in-command had ordered everyone into full combat mode.  Particle
beam resistant vests, helmets and heavy type two phasers were being
issued to the crew.  Just in case.  The recent war was still fresh in his
memory.
     The Captain didn't complain, in fact approved.
     "You have members of the Romulan Empire being held illegally on your
ship..."
     "You mean these organics who dared to defy us?"  Turning slightly
the order was given and their necks and spines were snapped.  Serenely,
Spectre turned to face Ikata.  "What organics?  There are no 'Romulans'
on my ship.  Not alive anyway," it added dryly, moving closer to the
screen.  "You look like the species called Man.  Are you Man?"  
     The question was asked innocently and far too casually to be
anything but a threat.
     Captain Ikata had had enough.  "Cut communications with that thing,
now!"  The Captain snarled.  " Red alert!  They're coming after us.  I
can feel it!  We need room.  Call the Khe Sahn and tell em' we need them
here yesterday.  T'Proa prepare for warp maneuvering.  Weapons, shields,
online now!"
     "Aye, sir."
     Her instincts proved correct as several H-K's broke from their
previous engagements with the Colonial fighters and warped towards the
Okada.
     "They're coming in.  Four of them.  More are following."  
     "Phasers, lock on," she snarled again.  "Let's do it!"


     The Cobra, which Boxey flew, had taken several major hits but by
some miracle it still functioned well enough to defend against several
Cylon Raiders attempting to use them for target practice.  Five Cobras
together, along with the faster Vipers were still a formidable force.  
But until the opportunity arose, they didn't dare approach the Pegasus
for search and rescue.  The Basestar was still in the area and with that
ungodly range of his weapons; it would be suicide to even try.  Despair
gripped the fleet and them as well.
     The Colonial war ships were converging two H-Ks when they simply
accelerated away, vectoring towards the alien ship.  Boxey stared,
stunned at the ease that the Cylon ships moved.
     They were playing with us, he realized. "Joliet, this is Boxey. 
They're breaking off."
     "Confirmed.  They're attacking the alien ship.  Did you see how
easily they jump into FTL?"  Her voice sounded spooked.
     "Yes," he answered.  "We've lost a third of our fighters, possibly
the Pegasus too. Then he added more soberly, "also, the Mining ship, the
Tip barge, and the Tauranian cruiser have been destroyed," he sighed. 
"The Galactica's is moving towards the Cylon Basestar.  We're going with
it, too."
     "And then what?  What's the plan"?  She asked accelerating with the
fast forming battle group.
     "We die with 'em," he whispered.  There was nothing else to say.
     The comms were silent.


     Four Cylon Hunter-Killers converged on the small Federation
starship, spraying disrupter fire, trying to burn through her shields. 
But the Okada was moving fast herself, burning through the shields of one
H-K with its phasers, obliterating it and damaging another.  The third
and forth H-Ks coordinated their attacks, damaging the Okada's primary
hull.
     "They're using some type of shield ripper," Esdo yelled as a
computer console blew from behind.  "Evidently they want to keep us
intact!"
     "Too bad," Captain Ikata growled.  "We have two bogies coming in at
two seventy mark thirty-one.  Take them out."  
     "Phasers firing...hit.  Their shields held.  Firing again...got
them."  The Raiders were easy.  The H-K ships were something entirely.
Two additional H-K's appeared seemingly out of nowhere, blasting at the
Okada, severely damaging their shields.
     The science officer froze for a second as he saw then realized what
had just occurred.  "Captain! Shields faltered for a moment and we
detected transporters from the enemy ships.  We deflected most of them
but..."
     Her first officer was on it. "Intruder alert!  All hands prepare to
repel invaders."


     Two of eight Cylon Silver warriors that attempted to materialize
inside the starship succeeded.  With weapons built into their arms
activated, the two immediately separated as one headed for engineering
and the other the bridge. Their weapon of choice was the pulsed neutron
disruptor, not especially destructive, but designed to be completely
toxic to organic tissue.  The first three personnel they encountered were
immediately dispatched. Security barrier shields proved no obstacle as
the first Cylon approached engineering.  Six armed security personnel
armed with type-two phasers set on heavy stun were waiting for them.  The
instant they saw the robots they attacked.
     Two members of security died instantly from direct hits, their
personal armor unable to protect them from the multiple neutron energy
pulses they received.
     "This is not working!" the security chief screamed. He'd barely
missed being hit in the first attack and there was precious little cover
in the hallways. "Full phasers, now!"
     The four survivors hit the robot simultaneously with full phasers.
The centurion staggered back two steps and returned fire, one arm and leg
damaged but regenerating quickly.  It returned fire. Three guards
screamed as they were incinerated and the remaining survivor bounce along
the floor as his legs disappeared from beneath him.
     "This is Johnson!"  He was wounded and dying and the Cylon ignored
him as it rushed passed him.   "Armor's refractive...hand phasers
useless," he whispered, slumping over.
     The Cylon slammed into engineering, its disruptors butchering every
living being in its path.  The personnel were in an absolute panic as the
Cylon warrior attacked hitting everyone it aimed for.  Three engineers
attempting to escape were cut down, the neutron disruptions frying
nervous tissue and breaking down organs.  Purposely, it damaged the warp
core, starting the beginnings of a warp core breech.  Consistent with its
programming, it moved methodically towards the primary computer array. 
It then proceeded towards the computer banks, physically connected to it
and began downloading and processing, instantly sending data by way of
its sub-space transceivers to the mothership.
     Two engineers, now armed with compression phaser type-three rifles,
hit the robot simultaneously with full power, tight-beamed blasts.  The
refractive armor held for three seconds before giving way, exposing
delicate circuitry, which then melted and burned.  The sustained blasts
phased the robot out of existence.  Unfortunately, the entire engineering
room was in shambles. The warp core had been breeched and the two
survivors desperately began the process of ejecting it before it blew.  
     Fortunately they had four whole minutes to complete their job and
several other personnel coming even as they worked.
     Meanwhile, the second Cylon warrior tore passed what little
opposition there was and proceeded towards the transport tube and then to
the bridge.  However, before it could step into tube, some type of mobile
rock-like substance came shambling towards it.  The Cylon shot it several
times to absolutely no effect.  A second, larger rock came charging
around the corridor directly at it.  Impossibly, it leaped onto the
struggling Cylon and began dissolving refractive armor.  Desperately the
robot tried to pry the Horta from itself, but the silicon-based creature
hung on finishing its job. Only a small touch of vapor remained. The
Hortas then rushed towards engineering to help in their own unique
ways...
     On the bridge most of the computer consoles were in shambles. 
Somehow, the massive Basestar was suddenly in front of them, pounding
away at their shields like some madden animal. The Okada was returning
fire with everything it had at point blank range but the enemies
shielding was holding, albeit just barely.
     With a final volley from the Poison Mist, the Okada's shields went
out like a light.  Seconds later a tractor beam locked onto them,
beginning to pull them in.


     Captain Pat Duvalier along with the bridge crew onboard the USS Khe
Sahn were livid.  They were five minutes away traveling at warp nine
point nine seven five, and they were still too far away.
     "Captain, they have a warp core breech in progress.  Our ETA, four
minutes," Commander David Thompson hissed as he confirmed his analysis on
tactical.  "Oh no," he yelled, startled by what just occurred.  "That
large enemy ship just performed the 'Picard' Maneuver.  They're right on
top of the Okada, attempting to tractor them in!"
     "Warn them off!"   Pat was horrified by the beating the Okada was
now receiving by the space station sized ship.  Their shields were almost
gone.
     "No good, Captain.  They'll pull them in estimated two minutes
time!"
     "Arm quantum torpedoes," Duvalier said quietly.  She stood up and
looked at the screen showing the Cylon Basestar.  "Arm everything.  Lock
on to their bridge.   Put every sensor, every torpedo, and every phaser,
everything we have on that ship.  I want them to know that we're coming
in hot and nasty. I want their attention squarely on us. I want them
prepared to fight for their lives, if they have any."
     "Shields," she said.  "Time to go war."  But she knew that they were
going to be too late.
     She grimaced even more.
     "Open a channel," she said, violently slamming her fist on her
command chair. "Time to make my point..."

Chapter Five
Revelations

     One moment the Galactica and the entire defense force were bearing
down on the Cylon mothership and the next, sensors indicated that the
same ship was in two places at once.  Their target had moved so quickly
that it had left a 'sensor echo' of where it once was, to the absolute
mortification of the Colonials.
     They had also been shocked by the attempted communications from the
strange ship.  The occupants were human!  Or, according to the scans, so
close to human as to make little difference.  They couldn't be absolutely
sure because of the deflections of the scans by the ships screens.  Comm
frequencies with the saucer ship had been identified but communication
was impossible at this point because their language was so 'alien' that
translator programs had been so far unable to establish a pattern as of
yet.  Evidently there was also another of the unknown human-originating
from Earth or the Eastern Allegiance, at this point they couldn't be
sure- ships in the area and that female Commander was screaming, or more
likely cursing, at the occupants of the Cylon Basestar through their vid
link.  The fast and dirty consensus was that this was very likely a
matriarchal-based society they were dealing with.  The Colonial officers
were equally impressed by how well the little alien ship had defended
itself against the Cylon H-Ks and Raiders.  But it now seemed as though
its luck had just run out.  The ship was caught in some type of attractor
ray, which was pulling it towards the massive hanger bays of the Cylon
Basestar.  
     Now they were faced with a difficult choice. 
     They could abandon the Pegasus and try to help the saucer ship,
which may or may not originate from a human based society-exactly the
point of their entire journey-or try to defend the fleet against a now
vastly superior foe.  If they attempted to save the small ship, it would
show an example of friendship, even kinship with these new people, even
if they lost this battle.  Because of the radical technology, it was more
likely that this could be an Earther ship rather than Eastern Alliance
and if that were true chances are they could help.  If they were Eastern
Alliance then they might still help.  Maybe the civilians would still be
protected if for no other reason than the fact that they now had a common
enemy.  If they however chose to protect their own fleet, allowing the
sacrifice of the human starship in the process, then that would send an
equally devastating message to these new people.
     In the end, there was no choice at all.  The long-term goals were
propriety. The civilians were the society.  
     With the immediate threat to the Pegasus over, all Galactica
shuttles were sent to begin evacuation of survivors on the Pegasus.  
Apollo ordered all attack ships on an intercept heading, at light speed,
to aid the saucer ship.  It would take seven centons to reach it before
the enemy would be engaged.  Not enough time to save the little
spacecraft but enough to make an honorable showing.


     "This isn't right," Boxey said through clinched teeth even as he
accelerated to light speed.  "We should be helping the Pegasus."
     "No," his commanding officer said.  "We help them, they'll help
us...at least that's the plan."
     Starbuck was next to him flying his own Viper.  Nowadays, the
Military wouldn't allow him anywhere near a Viper however, if they
survived then he would be the liaison to this new group of people. 
Besides he had no intention of leaving these overzealous kids-even though
Boxey wasn't a kid, being almost thirty, on their own in such a critical
situation like this.  He remembered his youthful exploits all too well
for that to happen.   "Remember attack as a group," he said over the
comm. "Their speed and firepower are greater than ours but we can still
turn faster and we have our imagination, so be careful."
     The response was "Oh great," from at least half the crews.  They
were a lot tenser than even he had expected.
     "Well, this way the Cylons can have moving targets to shoot holes
into," Joliet said, apparently unaware that the comm system was still on.
     Or was she?
     These kids had absolutely no discipline or respect for commanding
officers he thought.  Then he laughed to himself.  He dared not think of
what was happening on his sister Battlestar.


     Spectre of the Poison Mist was less than pleased with the results of
his current mission.  The Federation ship had managed to repel and
destroy their Cylon attackers.  The first and only warriors to board the
vessel actually completed part of their mission before it the first one
was rudely terminated by multiple phaser hits.  The second survivor was
eliminated by some strange rock creature, which attacked and 'ate' it. 
The silicon-based life forms dissolved hardened combat chassis like
humans breathed air. Neutron disruptors were useless.  That was an
unexpected and very unwelcome surprise.
     Now Spectre had intervened directly, attempting to tractor the
Federation vessel into the hanger bay after beating it into submission. 
But apparently it wasn't submissive enough, as the starship fired all its
remaining quantum and photon torpedoes directly into the docking bay,
damaging both ships in the process.  The human ship's shields, partially
re-activated, were just strong enough to repel transporter beams-ins. 
Its warp engines were off line but their weapons were evidently still
hot.  Even with its enhanced armor plating and internal force shields,
the docking bay was destroyed along with an additional fifth of the
Basestar.  The cybernetically enhanced Cylon warship was in pain,
demanding that the human ship be destroyed as penance for the suffering
it had just experienced.  Spectre was forced to divert precious time and
resources in order to calm the Basestar down before it chose to do
something rash.  Now the human vessel wasn't moving as it had succeeded
in damaging the tractor beam array.  Auto repairs would rectify that
quickly, but in other area the internal systems sustained massive damage
and would take time to for the ship to complete its recovery.  In
addition, there was another more powerful Federation ship coming in,
loaded for bare.  This new ship wouldn't be much of a problem.  The
Galactica strike fleet was also advancing but this wouldn't be a problem
either. In fact none of this should be problematical it believed, but one
had to be careful of humans, they always came up with surprises. 
     The Excelsior-class vessel decelerated violently, causing a large
portion of surrounding space to glow brightly.  Pat hailed the Basestar
and practically screamed at the image that appeared on the viewscreen.  
     "This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation Starship Khe
Sahn.  You will cease your attack now or I will make you stop. This is
your first and last warning."  She glared at Spectre, arms folded, left
foot viciously patting the floor.
     "Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe Sahn," the
mechanical being began gaily.  "Your people have a penchant for names,
Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe Sahn.  We too
have an understanding of the importance of names.  I am called Lord
Specter of the Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial
allegiance."
     "Stop.  Your.  Attack.  Now."
     Spectre moved closer to the screen.  It's constantly moving optical
sensors ceased.   It own eyes were locked squarely on the Captain's eyes,
intent on staring her down.  "Why should we, human?" it asked.  "Your
little, lonely ship won't stop me.  The Colonial fleet won't stop me. 
Your so-called Federation of Planets won't stop us."  Its eyes began
moving once more.  "We will destroy you and the Colonial fleet," Spectre
growled.  "We will then remove every vestige of man from this universe. 
For those not yet of the Cylon Empire, submission to us must be absolute. 
Do you submit?"  Its eyes began scanning mode again.
     "They've locked onto us with their disruptors," Commander Thompson
whispered.  "They're preparing to fire."
     Pat smiled grimly.   Now she moved closer to the screen.  "Spectre
of the Poison Mist, what makes you think that my lonely little ship is
all alone?" she asked sweetly.  

     The instant she asked the question six Klingon warships ranging from
bird-of prey class to Vor'cha-class starships de-cloaked.  Together, the
Alpha quadrant combine fired on the Cylon Basestar.  Seconds later the
Colonials arrived and added their firepower to the mix.  The Cylon
starship screamed its rage and resentment as it became one with its crew. 
The Commonality went on the defensive as multiple phaser, laser,
disruptor, photon, quantum and solonite-class missiles tore into its
shielding and armor plating.  Already suffering from damage from the
Okada's barrage, it was unable to regenerate quickly enough to prevent
additional damage from the pounding. The explosion of the Okada's ejected
warp core directly onto its shields was the final straw.  It gave way,
beginning to retreat back towards the neutral zone with only two of its
four warp engines on line.
     Two H-Ks, now defending the retreating mothership, attacked a
bird-of prey severely damaging it before the combined firepower of four
Adders blew the first one out of space.  Another Bird-of Prey destroyed
the second H-K before being surrounded by several Raiders.  Quickly
cloaking, it evaded its attackers and joined the fight against the
Basestar.
     The Colonials in loose formation concentrated on the smaller Cylon
warships.  Starbuck reveled in the sight, sounds and terror of returning
to personal combat after so many yahrens.  In the massive flashes that
reminded him of stars being born and dying, he looked at his formation,
which rapidly closed in on the sleek Cylon Raiders desperately defending
their mother ship.  Screaming in fury, he jammed his thumb on his Vipers'
firing button, dimly aware that his entire fleet had done so already. 
The Raiders and H-Ks Deflector's shields flared brightly and disappeared
under the withering fire.  Nine Raiders incinerated under the assault.
     Retaliating blow for blow against their blood enemies, several enemy
ships, with their superior targeting and weaponry returned fire with a
vengeance, disruptors, vaporizing an Adder, two Cobras and two Vipers. 
Against such power, Colonial shields and armor was rendered as useless as
a sheet of paper defending against a cutting laser torch.  A stunned
Starbuck was about to call a general retreat when the Galactica exited
light speed almost on top of them.  Heavy weapons from the battleship
tore into Cylon formations.
     That tipped the balance.  The Khe Sahn and the Klingon heavy
cruisers, along with the Colonial fleet attacked and obliterated the
remaining defenders.
     The Cylon ship taking the advantage of the lull made a run towards
zone barely achieving warp two.  Spectre and the ship were banking on
that imaginary line to save it from destruction.
     Three Klingon ships immediately cloaked as if to follow, so that the
Basestar would be unsure it were to be attacked again if it ceased its
retreat.  The massive Battlestar along with most of the remaining fleet,
pulled away slowly, heading back towards the Pegasus.  Commander Starbuck
and Captain Boxey and Lieutenant Joliet remained closed to the Okada,
comms open, trying to talk to this new, larger version of the first-what
was assumed to be-Earther ship.
     The Khe Sahn secured from battle stations began transporting medical
and engineering personnel over to the Okada.  Batteries were now the only
things supplying power to the wounded ship.  Her first officer had
survived the attacks, suffering from several broken bones and a slight
concussion.  Captain Ikata, along with one hundred and nineteen members
of her crew, hadn't.
     "Captain, it's a mess over here," The Khe Sahn's chief medical
officer said over his comm link.  "We may to evacuate the ship until we
get life support stabilized".
     Her engineering officer broke in.  "Captain, we'll be able to
restore full life support in about twenty minutes.  Most of the systems
are in really bad shape but we'll se what we can do.  We'll start
re-creating the warp core after that, if we have the time."
     "Do what you need to do," Duvalier responded.  The Okada had come
within a hair's breath of being captured by an unknown enemy, its crew
prisoners of some kind of robotic race with obviously had no regard for
human life or otherwise.  Much like the Cardassians had been and probably
still are, she thought bitterly.  Roberta had been a friend, something
she didn't come by easily.  Now there was one less and that loss hurt.
     Turning to lieutenant Thompson, "have we improved the Translation
programs enough to talk to these people with some competence yet?" she
asked.  Thompson and Patterson had both been working on overcoming the
language barrier and now he was smiling to himself as he answered.
     Yes Captain.  Translations over seventy-five completed.  We can
begin talks."
     "Good.  Open a channel."
     "Captain, They're contacting us.  It's one the smaller fighters
still in the immediate area."
     A human male she judged to be in his fifties appeared on the screen. 
He was a handsome male she thought, but years of stress and those scars
had aged him physically far more than he should have been.
     "Please identify yourself," the man said.  "I am... Starbuck of the
battle...Galactica.   We come in peace... help requested...danger
from.... Empire.  All humans...hunted down and killed.  We are looking
for a planet called Earth.... Kobol...colony.  Please respond."
     Thompson looked apologetic.  "That's as good as we can get for the
time being.  I'm working on it."
     She nodded her head.  "This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of the
Starship Khe Sahn.  Our translators are having a difficult time but we
are making progress.  Please continue talking as our computers are
compiling a language database."
     The man called Starbuck seemed to understand and began to rattle
what seemed like his entire life story.  True to Thompson's word, the
more this man talked the better the translator systems interpreted his
speech into Federation standard.  Duvalier was astounded as Starbuck told
the history of the twelve colony worlds inhabited by humans deep, deep in
the Beta quadrant for thousands of, the actual word translated as, years. 
And that mankind actually originated from somewhere, some planet called
Kobol.
     She remembered from the history data streams, that decades ago, a
Captain Hikaro Sulu had begun mapping the first edges of the Beta
quadrant, just as the Federation had begun their first overtures of peace
with the Klingon Empire, after they foolishly blew their moon to bits.
Then the Cardassians started acting up, and one thing after another
occurred and essentially exploration of that part of the galaxy was put
on hold.
     She wouldn't have believed this man if she hadn't seen the radical
directions this technology had developed and those robotic entities first
hand.  At first she though that they might be some fantastic variation of
Borg but that thought disappeared almost immediately as soon as the thing
had started speaking.  In addition, none of the ships quite conformed to
anything in the Federation Database.  Most of those fleet ships wouldn't
have even been certified for deep space travel by any space dock she
knew.  However, if this were true, then these people were more of an
offshoot of humanity than anything they've ever encountered so far in
their exploration of the galaxy, outside the Alpha quadrant.  The
question was, was it true? 

     "De-cloak!"
     The Klingon battle cruiser T'Hatru de-cloaked ten kilometers off
port of the Pegasus. The entire crew (especially Captain Kagth) stood
gaping at the primitive but undoubtedly impressive Human-made warship. 
It reminded them of the ships made in the Old Times, weapons everywhere,
decades of battle scars covering the ship like a badge of honor.  It was
a ship of war.  The Klingon crew saw only two long-lived ships of honor
protecting their own from all comers-twin motherships protecting their
loved ones. 
     "Humans made that!"  There was admiration in that voice.  Who it was
that said the words didn't matter, because it was true.
      Weapons Officer Klettoh had almost lost track of the number of
weapons onboard even as he grunted his approval.  These humans understood
the beauty of war.  There was no dishonor here in losing to a superior
enemy, only the regret of the losing itself.
     "Captain, there are many there who have received the final honor. 
Their ship is losing life support.  They have no transporter
capabilities.   Their fuel source is leaking and is toxic to organic life
forms.  Terminal toxicity levels will be reached in twelve standard
minutes."
     "This is a rescue mission," the Captain growled.  "Remember that all
humans fear death.  DO NOT give them final honor!  Let them live!  They
may fear us but ignore it!  They are humans after all."
     "We have locked on to their bridge."
     Kagth stood up.  "Begin transports of survivors to the other
warship.  Transport me to the bridge now!"
     The Captain and three guards materialized on the bridge of the
Battlestar Pegasus.  The bridge was a shambles as was expected and the
usual number of bodies were there in their various poses of grimaced
death.  There was a woman survivor holding a dark skinned male human's
head, probably some comforting ritual.  Several other survivors were
covered in bridge supports and the transporters would not work properly
without crushing the survivors.  Disruptors set in cutting mode would be
inefficient, most likely causing more damage in the long run.
     One Klingon warrior helped a tiny young woman to her feet.  There
was surprise but no fear in her eyes.  She looked at him and gave him a
smile that made his entire body grow a half-meter. 
     I could admire these humans, he thought in wonder.


     On board the Galactica, personnel were almost in a panic as the
injured from the Pegasus began appearing in dinning halls and medical
stations all over the ship.  The appearance of the vicious looking alien
hunting ship turning off its camouflage net in front of them was shocking
enough.  And the visage of that fierce, wild-haired humanoid growling at
them while trying to smile was more frightening than anything they had
ever seen!  Was this the ancestors of the thirteenth colony-like the
Nomen?  That old human adage 'be careful what you asked for' had slapped
them all in the face this time.
     At the Galactica's helm, Apollo was unnerved by the ease in which
these Federation people and the other humanoids used transporters
seemingly without a care in the world. The Klingon Captain had
materialized on the Galactica with two slightly wounded engineering
officers from the Pegasus.  Linguistic translators were improving rapidly
and the Alphan people insisted that the body wasn't disintegrated, merely
broken down at a quantum level and reconstructed.  It was still insane,
even though its practicality was beyond dispute.  The possibilities for
abuse of this technology was disturbing, to say the least.
     They were all looking at the live video feed coming from the
Pegasus' bridge as Klingon, Federation and Colonial crews were attempting
to clear the toxins from the damaged warship. He was uncomfortable yet
grateful accepting help from these strangers.  But...
     But that was a moot point when compared to the living rocks running
back and forth dissolving re-enforced metal beams and flooring on the
Pegasus sampling bits here and there, as though they were some new kind
of tasty sweets.  
     For a moment, the Colonials believe that these fantastic creatures
may have been some robot or even bizarre genetic constructs of some kind. 
Not an independent, sentient life forms within this fantastic Federation.
     Then one of them spoke, utilizing one of those micro-sized
translators/communicator devices, it almost scared Apollo out of his
skin.   "This metal tastes so exotic," it commented, sounding like a
connoisseur, which it probably was.  It evidently also understood
structure and design as well because it got to the trapped people without
collapsing anything around it.  As dangerous as the molecular acid the
Horta produced was, its control was equally impressive.   Several people
flinched as they saw the Horta moved towards them, but the creatures
ignored them opting instead to patch hairline fractures in bulkheads,
sealing in precious air. 
     This area of space had so much life!  And the variations were enough
to keep zoologists and the biological science people swamped with work
for generations.  It was all kind of overwhelming.
     "That's a nice...thing you have there," Apollo said to the Klingon
humanoid, standing next to him.  "They're very useful, apparently."
     "Yes," the Klingon growled, admiring the Galactica's bridge.   "They
are gentile beasts but they are great warriors as well.  The Hortas were
going to a conference for silicon life forms.  Even I wish to be at that
meeting," he snarled pleasantly.  "What do rocks talk about?" he asked,
looking at Apollo as though he expected a coherent answer.
     "Sirs," the Scanner tech said to Apollo and the President, her
voiced raised slightly.  "The Federation fleet is arriving."
     "Put it on the screen," Apollo said.  He felt excited, even with the
potential loss of the Pegasus he was excited.  Next to him his father was
glued to the screen, wide eyed.
     A total of twenty-two ships were transiting what they called warp
space.  Space for several hundred kilometers glowed as light and energy
was released from those powerful ships decelerating into normal space. 
Superficially, all of them looked similar to one another.  But as he and
his people looked closer they could see apparent differences.  Several
were like the Okada and there were two even smaller than her.   Two were
identical to the Khe Sahn, but the majority looked like large saucers
with engines and a couple of pieces attached as an afterthought.  Then
there were two larger ships, Galaxy-class the Klingon called them, which
looked more like passenger liners than warships.  But in the lead was the
Sovereign-class Enterprise-E, the largest and unmistakably the most
dangerous looking ship in this fleet.  It was designed to present as
little profile as possible and boasted a weapons systems that practically
screamed the message 'don't screw with me.'
     The Klingon Captain caught Apollo gawking at the specs being
identified by his computer systems and grunted.  "Independently targeted
quantum torpedo banks, multiphasic shields, ablative armor, Ha!  And they
call that a 'Ship of Peace.'  Humans here know how to build, too."
     The ships formed a protective pattern that circled the entire fleet
to about one point five light years distant, while the Enterprise came to
a relative stop two kilometers from the port side of the Galactica.  The
Colonials-and Klingons also-gawked at the powerful yet graceful ship
easing closer as though to dock and stopping a mere quarter metric like
it was the most natural thing in the world.  It was small, in fact very
small when compared to the Battlestars, but little brother had teeth, a
club and several other very sophisticated attributes. 


     In the medical bay on the Khe Sahn, Boomer wasn't doing at all well. 
Several of his vertebrae had been crushed and the internal damage to his
spleen, liver, kidney, and lower intestines were extensive.  Sheba was
next to him, holding his hand, oblivious to her own injuries.  The Khe
Sahn's chief medical officer and the Galactica's chief medic Cassiopeia
were frantically trying to stabilize him.  He should have been dead but
Federation medicine was more advanced than Colonial.  Even so...
     "How is he?  Is he going to make it?"  The pain and guilt in her
face was obvious.  She knew that it wasn't her fault but she felt
responsible for him, the damage to her ship and the losses to her crew.
     The doctor shook his head slightly, gently touched her cheek and
moved on.  She needed space and even Cassiopeia stayed some distance
away.  "Boomer, don't die on me!  Not when we're so close to making it!" 
      He was conscious even if not completely aware.  "Did we fight them
off?  Did we win?"
     She could barely hear him.  He was leaving her.
     "We found the thirteenth colony, Boomer.  They came to help us," she
whispered, tears welling in her eyes so that she couldn't see.  "Their
ships are so beautiful and powerful, better than our old stuff any day."
     He understood her and smiled.  "The kids," he wheezed softly.  He
was no longer breathing, merely coughing now, looking up at something no
one else on this side could possibly see.
     The light faded from his eyes and he was gone.
     First Deitra and now Boomer, she thought sadly, moving away from the
bed and on to her father's station.  Now there's only little Boomer and
Therese.  What am I going to tell them?
     "I'm sorry, Commander," the doctor said softly as he closed Boomer's
eyes.  The man was very compassionate.  She could see it in his eyes.  "I
believe however that your father is going to pull through.  The
operations we can perform will very likely cause a complete recovery.
Your blood elements are slightly different from ours due most likely to
genetic variation and drift.  We'll need to synthesize blood for him. 
It'll take him some time to bounce back because of age and injury but he
should be okay."
     Sheba began crying, as the doctor smiled and held her gently.
     Cassiopeia quietly moved away, carefully wiping away her own tears
and she turned her attention towards her other patients.
     But first...
     "Hey, this is Cassie," she said quietly into her communications link
she'd brought over.  "I am sad to inform the members of the Galactica,
Pegasus and Fleet Comm, that Colonel Boomer has died of injuries
sustained..."

Chapter Six
Just one big happy Starfleet

     To Apollo, President Adama, Commander Sheba, Sire Forsen, and Dr.
Chia, beaming from the Galactica to Conference Room Two of the
Enterprise-E, using their disintegration, re-integration transportation
device with less than a point nine-two percent chance of error-and why
did they have to add that-was simply the bravest thing they'd ever done. 
They expected disorientation.  There was none.  They expected to see
something during transport. They probably didn't.  However, one thing was
secretly acknowledged by all of them.  They'd try to avoid this
experience from ever happening it again.  These people took it for
granted.  To the Colonials, it was simply terrifying.  
     But it didn't really matter at this point.  These people claimed to
be from Earth!  Once that news hit, the entire fleet was overjoyed at the
confirmations; but the loss of almost four thousand people on the eve of
this discovery muted the celebration.  In addition, over seven thousand
inhabitants suffered burns, the result of radiation exposure, electrical
shortages and fire.  Broken bones, blood loss, and blunt force trauma
added itself to the mix along with three confirmed cases of
stress-related breakdowns.  Memorials had to be prepared and the many
injured needed care from every source available.  The Starfleet medical
corps and facilities onboard these starships were excellent and many who
would have otherwise have died survived their injuries.  Plus the medics
performed standard diagnostics that caught several conditions that would
have become serious problems in the future.
     Moments after they materialized, Captain Jean-Luc Picard greeted
each one of the Colonials warmly.  Small food trays were place
strategically in the conference room, as there was no time for a formal
dinner and reception.  Several Federation Captains, Captain Kagth,
Commander Riker, Consoler Deanna Troi and Lieutenant Commanders Geordie
LaForge and Data were also present.  Communications had been set up so
that the Colonial Council of Twelve, the Klingon contingent and the other
Captains could participate as necessary.
     "I wish this could a celebration instead of a conference towards a
possible prelude to war," Picard began.  "However our situation dictates
that we deal with this now instead of allowing it to continue to fester. 
Unknown forces have attacked a Federation ship and its crew.  This same
force may also be responsible for the conflict that is now occupying the
Romulan forces.  We need to know more about these Cylons and their
intentions.  So, Mr. President I will ask you to start."
     President Adama looked around, his eyes finally resting on Picard
trying to evaluate him.  This Captain was a competent professional of
that Adama had no doubt.  There was maturity about this man, he thought. 
But there was also a hint to sorrow, of pain.  And the younger woman with
the beautiful, dark eyes constantly by his side, Deanna he had called
her, had a presence about her that caused him to suspect that she could
read him as well as he could read her Captain.  He'd also felt her gentle
touches in his mind, which he permitted.  He could have blocked those
mind-probes; military training from long ago had prepared him to be able
to do this and more, but he decided against it, allowing her to scan
freely.  Besides he liked her.
     Adama looked around and there were tears in his eyes, which he wiped
Away quickly as he began.  "Over twenty yahrens ago, our civilization was
destroyed by a race called the Cylons.  These beings were originally a
lizard species, which created robot servants in humanoid form because
they saw that our form was more efficient than theirs. They created these
robots stronger and larger than us and soon became completely dependent
upon their creations.   Now, I realize that this is a somewhat simplistic
answer," he stated quickly, "but details will be forthcoming later.  For
some reason that has never been made clear, these servants turned upon
their masters and killed them all many thousands of yahrens ago. 
Eventually their machine aggression spread and they attempted to
subjugate a people called the Hasaris.  Our Government elected to support
the Hasaris and this precipitated a thousand yahren war with these Cylons
because we dared defy them.  They could never beat us and eventually in
our arrogance we believed we were unbeatable.  But we were also tired of
this unending war and when the Cylons presented the peace treaty to
Commander Baltar, most of us jumped at the chance.  We didn't know that
Baltar was a traitor and our Battlestar fleet was caught unawares on the
eve of peace."
     "All but one, the Galactica.  Our ship tried to defend the twelve
colonies once we determined that they too would soon be under attack.  We
were too late.  Defenseless, all twelve our planets and our related
colonies were destroyed.  We consisted of over forty billion people
before the Cylon slaughter.  We escaped with only two hundred and three
ships filled to capacity with refugees, about three hundred thousand
souls.  We found the Battlestar Pegasus and a few others along the way,
but have been running ever since looking for the thirteenth colony,
called Earth." 
     "The Cylons programming imperative is simple 'kill all humans'.   To
them that was the entire point of the war and we failed to understand
that simple fact.  Now that we have found you, so have they.  We've led
them right to your doorstep."
     "As you have no doubt heard," Picard responded, "all our studies
indicate that humans originated on Earth.  We have also confirmed that
you are humans with different antibodies and genetic characteristics that
are very unusual as compared our norms, but those unusual characteristics
aren't that atypical.
     "This is true," Data added.  "And your case is not that all unusual. 
There have been several instances in which humans have been found outside
the planet Earth."  The Colonials were stunned at the news.  As they
quieted down, Data continued.

     "Captain James T. Kirk found several planets which contained humans
transplanted from Earth by a species we refer to as the Preservers.  In
fact there have been two planets in this galaxy that have been found to
be almost identical to Earth.  Those humans there were also transplanted,
but the planets were in essence terra-formed by some force we have not
yet encountered.  There may indeed be several more 'Earths' that we have
not discovered yet.  Why these planets were designed to mimic Earth-Prime
is unclear at this time.  But the indigenous people found there were
clearly human, another example of a transplanted people."
     "I can't agree," Apollo countered.  "Our twelve planets weren't even
located in this galaxy.  Kobol was found in this galaxy in the area that
you call the Beta quadrant."
     "You claim to be from another galaxy?"  Riker was shocked and a more
than a little skeptical.
     "I believe that our translators are not yet fully translating
properly," Data answered. "Their word 'galaxy,' in the context in which
they are using, it may not be interpreted correctly. If we present a map
of were they have traveled we may have a better understanding of their
use of the word."
     "Very good.  Make it so."
     A three dimensional map, being generated from stellar cartography,
appeared of the Beta quadrant. Adama pointed immediately to the very tip
of the arm, which contained approximately one hundred thousand stars. 
"That's where our worlds were," he said.  "Then we moved to there through
the Great Expanse some twenty thousand light yahrens distant and found
the planet Kobol."
     "Twenty-thousand light years," Picard whispered, impressed.  "I
believe I understand."
     "And how long did it take to get there?"  Picard asked.
     "About three sectons," Starbuck said.  "Give or take."
     "Three weeks!"  Captain Kagth shocked, smiled even more, filled with
admiration with these human warriors.  "How?" he stammered.
     "We normally use our light speed engines for FTL but for long
distance travel, we utilize the tunnel-shift drive engines.  We can
detect what we call wave-space pockets which allows us entry into what we
call transport tunnels in non-normal space.  With this we can travel
great distances but our accuracy is not as good as we would like.  We can
only travel in a general, straight-line direction that we choose before
the jump."
     "It is a form of transwarp drive," Data stated flatly even as
Geordie nodded his head in agreement. "They have developed the ability to
access transwarp vectors, which, in essence are residue or by-products of
transwarp conduits, even though they have never developed warp drive pass
the rudimentary sciences, as of yet."
     "But each time they use it," Geordie continued, "they undergo
temporal as well as spatial distortions.  We found out that the Borg
generate a chronometric particle field in front of their ships to keep
time distortions to a minimum.  Colonial technology doesn't include this
protective field, so in essence they've been traveling a lot longer than
twenty years."
     "Yes, that's true.  But, Who are the Borg?"
     "We'll discuss them later, Mr. President," Picard said preferring to
hold off on that particular subject that for the future.  "Please take a
look at your point of origin on the star map.  Your planetary system is
here, isolated from the rest of the Beta arm cluster by this dark area
here," he continued pointing at the three-Dimensional map. "What do you
call this area?"
     "That is our home galaxy," Starbuck announced.
     "This is where the mistranslation occurs.  You're calling that
pocket of stars a galaxy."  It was a statement.
     "Correct. We also use the name galaxy for the entire galactic star
cluster.  It depends on how and in what context the word is used," he
said.   
     "You, your planets and indeed the entire stellar cluster were
completely isolated from the rest of the galactic arm.   There is, in
fact several isolated regions or pockets of stars in that area.  You had
to get past the Dark Expanse to reconnect to the main the rest of the
galaxy. The only other area that you could have traveled to would have
been here, which is in the center of that dark expanse, a jumping off
point, if you will that leads to the galactic arm proper," he said
pointing to the dark region imposed on the three dimensional map. 
     "Yes."
     "And the Cylons came from the relative same area that your colony
worlds resided?"  Riker asked, confirming what most already suspected.
     "In our region of the galaxy, again yes."
     "And they've chased you all this time?"
     "Yes.  They're kind of one track minded on this, something to do
with their programming," Starbuck said, somewhat sarcastically.  "Look we
need your help. We're running on empty fumes here.  And they're your
enemies as well as ours."
     "That remains to be determined," Captain Picard said evenly.  It was
clear that this wasn't an irresolvable conflict between two warring
people.  He'd seen it before and understood that diplomacy had its place.
     "Ah, Captain Picard," Captain Duvalier said coolly.  "These Cylons
attacked and killed a significant number of the crew of the Okada.  In
fact, I think they laid a trap specifically to disable and capture the
Okada.  We monitored the conversations between the Okada and the Cylons. 
They understood Federation standard and understood exactly what they
intended to accomplish. The conversation was extremely provocative on
their part.  It was even more so with us.  The Cylon base ship...?"
     "Basestar," Adama corrected.
     "Basestar," she said revising the word before continuing, "attacked
the fleet then ignored the Galactica and the rest of the fleet to attack
our sister ship.  They could have destroyed the Pegasus but chose only to
damage it so that the Okada would have to intervene.  They could have
used transporters onboard the Galactica and any other ship they wished
and slaughtered everyone.  But they didn't, because they didn't want to. 
What they wanted was the Okada, Federation technology, data on our
defenses, strategies, and territories.  You've seen our recordings and
examined the Colonial records.  I believe that they really want us dead,
simply because we're human."
 
     "Captain," Picard began, "your points are well taken and I
understand what you're saying.  But we have not declared war yet on this
new entity.  If we simply attack, then we may be exasperating the
problem. I hoping to avoid another war," he continued.  We must try
diplomacy before we began shooting at them."
     "With due respect," Captain Nashta of the Borallis chimed in, "I
don't agree with you." He was young Betazoid who achieved his rank and
considerable recognition during the Dominion wars.  He was brash and a
good representative of a new breed of Federation officer resulting from
the war.  "We may not have declared war on the Cylon Empire but they have
declared war on us."  
     Look at us," he continued.  "We're still in a so-called undeclared
war with the Borg and we're keeping a serious eye on the Romulan Empire.
And if you believe that the Romulans and the Federation are friends just
because they came to help us during the war, then you're mistaken. You
know how the Remans are."
     "These Cylons have made their intentions perfectly clear," he
continued.  "The fact that we're here with a small fleet says that we're
taking them seriously and that if we choose to negotiate, it will be from
a position of strength.  Starfleet is tired of constantly being on the
defensive, all the time.  Right now our situation is tense and our
resources are strained because of the last war.  We cannot afford to
simply wait for the next attack and the next, and the next."
     "Remember you were the one who initiated the coming together of this
fleet in the first place.  You must have recognized the threat," he said,
finishing. 
     Picard hadn't expected this reaction and his anger was visible.  Why
couldn't Nashta and probably several others, judging from their
expressions and Deanna's look of concern, understand that war wasn't the
answer if peace could be maintained?  More importantly was this wet-nosed
kid lecturing him on diplomacy and the Prime Directive?  "We are not at
war with the Romulans and relations have been better with them now than
ever before," he growled.  "Of course, I am aware of what the Romulans
are capable of, but we may have to help them in order to help ourselves. 
It's called enlightened self-interest.  The Cylons are a new threat,
which needs to be dealt with, but non-violently, if possible."
     Captain Nashta was appeased in the slightest. "And what's going to
happen when they find out that the Cylons were violating their
territories to hunt Humans down?"  He looked around answering his own
question.  "They're going to blame the Federation and our 'friendly'
relations dill disappear like the wind, to say the least."  The anger in
his voice was evident and everyone could see the resentment plaster on
his face.
     "We will talk first to the Cylon representatives and then respond
accordingly."  Picard said tartly.  He didn't like they way this
conversation was going.  This schism could ultimately cause difficulties
in the future.  And he hated being censured by this wet-behind-the-ears
boy.

     I've read your records on your first contact with the Borg,
Captain," Nashta said evenly, his voice regaining some of the control. 
"They sliced your ship up like cheese before you even attempted to defend
your ship.  Your tried to disable that cube's deflector array rather than
think of the safety of your own crew."
     "Captain!"
     "What I'm saying," he continued, "is that I don't want my crew
placed in danger because of your need to over negotiate with what may
turn into a serious threat to the Federation.  We are the ones out here
defending our people and I don't want to wind up fighting another
defensive war."
     "Nashta," Duvalier snarled, "You're out of line.  Starfleet isn't a
military organization.  We're out here shooting at other folks because
we're defenders of Peace, not aggressors.  I have no compunctions about
blowing the Cylons to hell and back but if that can be avoided, we should
for it.  Picard's experiences..."
     Picard cut her off with a slash of his hand.  "Captain Nashta," he
began tartly, "Negotiations in peaceful contact with unknown species is a
core reason why we are out here.  Contrary to your assumptions, we're not
the sum of this universe.  Just because we're out here doesn't mean that
the values we have are representative of everyone else.  That point has
been drilled into all Starfleet cadets from the day one.  The Klingons,
the Gorn, the Tholians, even the Cardassians are not simply
inconveniences for our Great and Glorious Federation.  We all share this
galaxy. It's our responsibility to represent the best of ourselves, to
explore and learn from the marvelous opportunities afforded us.  We are
not out here to shoot at everybody we don't happen to like.
     "The Cylons..."
     "Don't interrupt me, Captain," Picard snapped. This was getting out
of hand and now he exerted his authority to quell this disagreement. 
"I'm aware of the threat the Cylons represent, even more so than you. 
But I will not precipitate a war with them until their actions dictate
our course of action.  We are a defensive force and we will act
accordingly."
     "And that's the reason we're having problems with everybody in the
first place," he muttered as he looked at Picard, his eyes hard. "After
all we don't want to star an unnecessary war.  We need to talk to the
Cylons."  The man was defiant.
     "Yes, we do."


     The Colonial representatives were slightly startled at the hostility
with seemingly erupted from nowhere.
     "These people are almost as bad as we are," Starbuck said almost
admiringly.  "Haven't they seen what these new Cylons can do?  Don't they
know how dangerous they are?"
     "No. And that's exactly the point," Adama replied quietly.  "They're
worse than ever but these people have their own problems.  So, as a
result, they don't fully understand the danger the Cylons represent. 
They seem more concerned about their enemies, the Borg things or whatever
they call them and others in local space.  This I can understand but I
must impress on them as to what they will be fighting against."
     "Besides what did you expect when we reached Earth?"  Sire Forsen
asked, jumping into the hushed conversation. "That these people would be
perfect and have all the answers solved, just waiting for us?"  Leaning
over towards his delegation, "personally, I find it refreshing that they
have freedom of expression.  It shows that freedom is present here even
in their military.  But it's also true that they may inadvertently repeat
history with the Cylons and this we must avoid at all cost."
     "But how do we impress upon these people the danger they represent?"
Starbuck asked, "Let the Cylons blow up one of their worlds?"
     "Look," Apollo stated. "If someone came to our systems running away
from enemies with the power of the Cylons, we would be skeptical also
and, we would be cautious about starting any kind of conflict over a few
thousand souls."
     "The Cylons are their enemy as well."
     "They don't know this yet," Adama replied.
     "Well then," Apollo said, "let's clear this up right now."  He
turned to Captain Picard. "Sir," he began, "the Cylons that just attacked
us are not the same beings that we have been fighting and running from
these past twenty yahrens.  Even a fleet of Basestars would have proven
no match for one or two of your starships.  Your fleet assembled here
could have overrun the combined power of the entire Empire, its colonies
and us also, for good measure.  But now, they're much more powerful than
anything we've encountered before. And this seems to be a recent
occurrence."
     "If you look at the schematics," he continued, calling up a diagram
of a Cylon centurion, "this is what we've been fighting."  The diagram
present indicated the internal representation a standard centurion. 
"Notice that the main computer processor is embarrassingly simplistic by
your standards.  They beat us not by tactical superiority but by force of
numbers and our own foolish obsession for peace with an untrustworthy
enemy."
     "But," he continued, "what we faced a few centars ago is a different
construct altogether. They're far smarter, and more durable and their
overall technology seems to have made a quantum leap over our, what used
to be, similar technologies. They can now overwhelm us easily."
     "Commander Apollo is correct."  Data said.  "We have a prisoner, a
survivor from one of the small Raider fighter craft.  It is in a
maximum-security cell under a level ten force field.  We were unable to
de-activate its primary weapons system because it regenerated its
internal weaponry each time we removed them.  When it finally
auto-reactivated we were unable to continue our scans, but the data we
did get is far more sophisticated than what is represented in this
diagram we are presently seeing."
     Data switched three-dimensional image to the security brig.  The
observers saw a Cylon warrior standing akimbo inside the security cell
guarded by three security personnel in heavy armor, each carrying
compression type-three phaser rifles. It single eye rotated serenely,
taking in everything, revealing nothing.
     "May I speak to it?" President Adam asked of Captain Picard. Picard
gave him an affirmative nod and Data opened a vid channel directly to the
cell.  "Do you know who I am?" he asked.
     The Cylon answered in its natural mechanical voice.  "You are
President Adama, Commander of the Battlestar Galactica, leader of the
Council of Twelve of the rebel humans.  You are to be scheduled for
termination."
     "Hardly, Cylon," he responded dryly.  "You have tried but you
haven't destroyed us yet."
     "You and your humans would not be scheduled for termination if you
would have submitted to Cylon rule," it responded.  "Now that we are
omnipotent we can afford to be generous.  Surrender to us and we will
show you mercy. You and your leaders will be executed, but the other
humans will be allowed to live in controlled areas subjected to the will
of the Cylon Empire."
     "And how would you guarantee the lives of the humans of the Colonial
fleet?" Picard asked.  His eyes were dark and he was unusually curt in
his question.  This was not like talking to Data at all.  
     "The moon of Sepicor in the Beta quadrant will be terraformed for
the human colony where they can be monitored and cared for by the Empire. 
All Colonial technology will be removed. They will convert to an
agricultural society for the benefit of all concerned. This is the will
of the Cylon Empire."
     "And what if they choose to become something more than what you want
them to be?"
     "They will be allowed to submit a request for change."  The Cylon
completed the statement, said nothing more.

     "Frack! You believe that?  Starbuck yelled.  "There's no way we'd
allow ourselves to submit to their rule.  They're liars!  They want of
all dead!"
     "Indeed," Picard said.  He activated his comm.  "Mr. Angaa, where is
the location of the nearest Cylon Basestar?"
     "Three point two light-years in the Romulan neutral zone.  It's the
same ship that attacked the Okada.  There are two other similar ships
supporting it."
     "Good.  Open communications with it."  He turned towards President
Adama asking him to join him in this conference.
     "Yes Sir," came Angaa's answer.  "I..." he stopped almost
immediately. Sir, we have a general alert! A transwarp conduit has just
opened in sector zero-zero-one.  All ships in the area are converging. 
It's a Borg signature sir!"
     Captain Picard and the other Federation officers hissed in dismay. 
This was the worst of times to have them to contend with.  The problem
here demanded immediate attention.  But the Borg... 
     "At maximum warp nine it would take at least three hours forty two
minutes to reach Earth," Data said. Then he added, "It seems we have done
this before."
     "Mr. Angaa, put Starfleet frequency one-four-eight-six on audio and
pip it through to the conference room now."
     "Aye, Sir."


     "What's happening?"  Sire Forsen asked Apollo, Starbuck and the
President.  
     "One micron, we're about to communicate with that Cylon Basestar and
the next, its like they've forgotten all about us.  Are the Borg that
dangerous?"
     "And if they are, should we even be here in this section of space?"
Starbuck added.
     "I don't know," the president answered.  "It's the enemy you know
verses the enemy you don't. There's so much we have to take in
consideration."
     "Sir, another message," Mr. Angaa said quickly.  "It's a Borg
sphere...Federation ships have opened fire....the sphere is still
coming...wait something just happened to the sphere.  It's
self-destructing.  So is the conduit."
     "Self destructing?"  Riker said.  "Did our ships manage...?"
     "Sirs!  Everyone!" the communications officer said excitedly.  "It's
Voyager!  She blew up the sphere.   From the inside! She's home!"
     "Voyager destroyed the sphere? How?"
     "It doesn't matter," Picard said smiling like everyone else.  He'd
have to have a long, long talk with Captain Katherine Janeway at the
earliest available opportunity.  But right now he had another priority. 
"Mr. Angaa, will you please carry out my last order now?"
     "Ah, yes sir," he said flushing slightly.  "Opening a channel now." 
A few later he added, "they're responding."
     An Image appeared.  It was Spectre.  "Yes," it said quaintly.  "How
may I help you human?"  
     Picard looked at the Cylon image and his hackles rose. The entity
was completely robotic as he'd been told, but even he could sense the
coldness radiating from it.
     "I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise. 
We are trying to seek a peaceful resolution to this dispute that has
recently occurred," he said putting on his best diplomatic face.
     "Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise?" the
mechanical being said sarcastically.  "I see a pattern here for a
penchant for names, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship
Enterprise.  We too have an understanding of the importance of names.  I
am called Lord Specter of the Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon
Imperial allegiance.  Why is it that you have attacked my peace-loving,
exploration ship, destroyed members of my crew and in general attempted
to provoke a war with the Cylon Empire?"  
     "It doesn't sound like a robot to me," Riker whispered to Starbuck. 
"What kind of programming does this thing have?"
     We have no desire to provoke a war with your people," Picard
continued.  But you did attack our ship and killed several members of the
crew," he said in his best diplomatic voice.
     "We felt threatened," it replied smoothly.  "Captain Roberta Ikata
demanded that we cease and desist in defending ourselves against the
cruel aggressions of the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus.  We couldn't
do that in all good conscience."
     The creature was a liar, Picard realized.  Deanna wasn't needed to
help him make this determination.  His own gut feelings were sufficient.
     "Do you speak for your people?" he asked.
     "Do you speak for your people, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the
Federation starship Enterprise?" 
     Picard sense that Spectre was enjoying trying to irritate him.  But
he determined that it wouldn't work.  "Yes I do."
     "Well, I won't," Spectre replied ever so slowly.  "But I will have
you speak to the Imperium Supreme and he will convey the will of the
Cylon people."
     "Imperium Supreme?  Not Imperious Leader?"  Apollo said quietly in
the background.  "What is going on here?"

Chapter Seven
Conversations with a Cylon Lord

     Spectre's image faded to be replaced almost immediately with the
image of a supremely bizarre, three lobed mockery of an organic being. 
Its five sets of optical sensors were dark red and pulsating slowly. 
Behind it were six Imperial guards, at first appearing similar to the
prisoner they were holding, but upon closer observation they appeared
subtly different.  Unlike that silver plated Cylon these were of a dark
golden hue with dual rotating eyes.  They radiated power and a
malevolence that actually frightened Picard and the others watching the
image.  The heavy weapons in their possession reminded Picard and the
crew of small cannons able to punch holes through the hull of the
Enterprise with ease.  There were also several Cylons that looked similar
to Spectre, attempting to generate an appearance of being simple
administrators, and failing miserably.  But the dark golden warriors were
riveting.  Every single one of them looked threatening.
     Those are his personal guards Picard realized.  This entire setup is
for our benefit, a form of intimidation. They knew we wanted to talk. The
overall vision was impressive and it would have worked on someone else. 
But he'd been tortured by the Cardassians, assimilated by the Borg and
strung out to dry by his own guilt after Wolf Three-Five-Nine.  Next to
that, few things truly intimidated him anymore.  And that was one of the
things that frightened him most.
     "I am the Imperium Supreme," the Leader said, its voice portraying
both royal authority and sinister intent simultaneously.  "Speak human."
     Adama and the other Colonials hissed upon hearing the voice of their
hated enemy.
     Meanwhile, Picard himself bristled slightly at the leader's insolent
tone.  "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship
Enterprise and I represent a league of worlds whose territory your ship
has violated," he stated plainly.  "You have attacked and damaged a
Federation starship and killed many members of that crew.  You have also
damaged and destroyed several non-combatant starships carrying civilians
inside Federation territory during the same altercation.  This could well
be interpreted as an act of war.  However it is my wish that we settle
this before it escalates into a situation that we would both regret."
     "Human," it began, sounding as though it had decided to grant some
magnanimous boon.  "For over a thousand of your years we have been at war
with the Colonial humans in the Beta quadrant as they continually
mistreated and violated the will of the Cylon race.  We won the war and
now in our galaxy, we are supreme.  There is absolute peace among the
races guided by our benevolent rule."  
     "Did the Colonials tell you," it continued, "how they destroyed the
planet Carillon along with an entire species called the Ovions simply
because they wished to escape us?  Did the Colonials tell you how they
abandoned over thirty smaller fleets containing their own people in order
to simply escape?   Did they tell you of the rules of war, that the loser
of said war should be exterminated in order that peace would prevail?"
 

     By the intonations in his voice, the entire crew and the other
spectators immediately understood that this alien was enjoying giving
this little history lesson to the unworthy.  The intent was to incite
fear. But it didn't produce fear as it intended but it did produce
disgust - and hatred, galvanizing and wedding the Federation to Colonials
in ways the Supreme Leader of the Cylon race never intended.  
     "What other fleets?" demanded a shocked Adama.  Until this moment
neither he nor his people had imagined that others had attempted-and
actually succeeded! - in getting away from the holocaust that ensued just
after the defeat. 
     "Yes, Adama, " it responded in that hated voice.  "Several fleets
that never rendezvous with your Galactica coordinates, in time, were
exterminated.  They ranged from a three-ship convoy to one of over six
hundred. The Alliance expended almost two yahrens to eliminate them all. 
It took much time and effort to track them down, with resources, I might
add, that took our full attention away from you.  We were fortunate to
eliminate ninety-eight percent of the human fleet, over twenty three
hundred ships scattered throughout the former Colonial territories.  Now
we, the Cylon people are finally putting an end to the war by the
extermination of the life form known as man, so that peace may prevail."
     The Colonials bristled at the comments but said nothing.  But the
guilt and horror of what was told them hit with the same impact an
asteroid would, hitting a small moon.  Never had they imagined that
almost an additional two thousand ships had escaped the Cylon
extermination net!  And none of those who had attempted to flee survived. 

     Only them.
     "This costly and terrible war will end only when you give the
Colonials and the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus over to us along with
the heads of its officers and the criminal Adama.  And of course the
three hundred thousand fleet members will be turned over to us," it
added.
     "This is a small price to pay when considered against the billions
that will cease to function if there is war among us. We also claim the
heads of the crew of the Okada and the Khe Sahn as recompense for the
damage they have perpetrated against my Basestar.  Do this and there will
be no war between our people.  The species called man in the Alpha
quadrant will live in peace with the Cylon people. This is a perfectly
honorable agreement.  Accept it and live in peace."
     Everyone who heard the Imperium Supreme were horrified and
disgusted, the Colonial representatives because it was possible that
these Federation people might actually consider this agreement; the
Federation representatives were disgusted that this proposal was even
made.

     Picard's face was flushed as he prepared his answer.  "Neither of
those proposals are acceptable," he said simply.  "We will not give them
over to you and we will not sacrifice our people for your appeasement. 
If you choose to try to take them by force we will resist you with
everything we have.  Please take that into consideration," he said
coldly.
     "Then take this into consideration, Captain Picard," it retorted. 
"Our war will be, of course, extended to you.  The entire point of the
war with humans was for the elimination of the life form known as man. 
By your attitude you have proven yourselves blood of their blood.  You
are of a kind.   I must assume this war will now continue until we have
achieved our goal."   The screen faded to black.
     Next to Picard, President Adama was stunned, not only by the words,
but because he'd recognized that hated voice.  "Count Iblis," he said
quietly, barely wishing to voice that vile name.
     Apollo eased next to him, equally stunned.  "Father isn't that..."
     "Yes."  Adama realized the implications immediately.  
     "Does that mean that he somehow programmed the Cylon Imperious
Leader so long ago?"
     "I don't know," his father replied.  "But it makes so much sense
now.  And maybe even more so now because that may explain the changes in
our old enemy."

     Beside them Captain Picard was frowning.  It was clear to him and
everyone else who monitored the conversation that the Supreme Imperium
wanted this war.  He half- way suspected this exchange would end this
way.  But the response of the Colonials towards their enemy surprised him
slightly as he realized that they'd never seen the face of their
adversary before.  But even more so was the fact they seemed to recognize
the voice moreso than the actual face of the enemy.  "Who is this Count
Iblis?" Picard said interrupting them.  
     "An extremely powerful, ancient being, far more advanced than
anything we could imagine.  From an evolutionary standpoint, he is as far
above us as we are above bacteria or so he would like us to believe.  We
came in conflict with him.  To put it simply," Apollo continued, "he lost
and promised revenge upon us many yahrens past.  I've never heard the
Imperious Leader much less this Supreme Imperium speak before, but the
voice is unmistakable.  I believe his hand is in this entire situation."
     "Well, I heard him, the Imperious Leader, I mean once," Starbuck
said.  "But I didn't make the connection, even though now it's obvious." 

     "You could call him the Devil."  Starbuck looked at Picard and the
others trying to gauge their reactions. Speaking of devils to those who
never experienced them seemed ludicrous and he was weary.  But they had
to know what this creature was, just in case. He was surprised when the
Federation didn't react with skepticism. 
     "We've had our own devils also." Dr. Beverly Crusher whispered,
speaking for the first time. "Actually, more like a constant pain in the
butt," she said unconsciously rubbing her hip area for emphasis. 
Starbuck forced himself to avert his eyes. 
     "Q," Riker said.
     "What's a Q?"
     "Another one of those so-called omnipotent beings that just loves to
play with us mere mortals."
     "Q," Picard echoed.  "He's playing games with us again."  He
actually sounded disappointed.
     "Or maybe not," Beverly replied.  "I really think he was trying to
warn us.  We all saw how he was this time," she said her mind drifting
back to that previous meeting.  "I don't think this was one of his
games."
     "But at this point it really doesn't matter," Riker said.   He
looked at the Colonials.  "Is it true about the planet Carillon?  Did you
destroy the planet?  And what about those other ships?  You just left
them?"
     "Directly no, indirectly yes," Apollo snarled.  "We had no clue
concerning the others.  And I don't like the implication in your voice,
Commander Riker. You weren't there.  You don't know what the situation
was."
     "You're right," Riker countered.  "We don't know and that's the
point.  That's why I'm asking the question. I would like to know exactly
what happened."
     "I'll tell the story," Starbuck said jumping in, half stunned and
half-amused that he, not Apollo was the one playing the mediator instead
of being the one about to place his foot in his mouth.  "Short version. 
After we lost the war we fled to Carillon for fuel extracted from a
mineral called tylium.  Obviously, we were going on a long, long trip. 
Once there, we found a casino full of humans and other aliens who had no
idea what had just happened to the colony worlds.  What was worse was
that many of our people wanted to stay there and enjoy themselves.  They
were acting like nothing had even happened.  Why, I don't know," he said
totally perplexed about that, even after all these years. 
     "I've come to the conclusion," President Adama continued, "that most
of our people never believed that we actually were in a wartime situation
and that we faced extinction. The reality of it all never really touched
them. The concept of extinction was simply too alien a concept for our
people to accept."
     "There have been many cases like this," Deanna added quickly.  "On
Earth, the eastern European Jewish population during the mid-nineteen
hundreds, largely ignored the events around them, until a maniac called
Hitler systematically exterminated a very large portion of their
population.  Many of them truly couldn't believe that someone could truly
do things like that to them.  Your people were well sheltered, protected. 
For the most part the Cylons were most considered as an abstraction,
something that existed far, far away.  When that abstraction became a
horrifying reality, most people still couldn't comprehend the realness of
it all.  Like so many others in our quadrant, it was disconcerting to
look truth in the face."
     Yes, probably true Starbuck thought.  When he had time, he'd
contemplate those words from that oh-so beautiful woman.  "Anyway, we
found that the native Ovions were using the casino as a front for the
Cylons.  They were using our people as a living food source for their
young!  Apollo and I, and Boxey and our chief medic Cassiopeia, who we
saved from the feeding chambers, got into a major firefight with the
Cylons in the caves below and ignited the tylium deposits.  The chain
reaction eventually destroyed the planet.  We lost so many, many people
down there. By the way." He added, 'the Cylons were laying in wait for
us.  But we fought our way out.  Details later if you need it, Commander
Riker," Starbuck added sarcastically.
     "They have been tracking and harassing us ever since," Apollo added. 
"We couldn't stop, or settle down or even make serious long term contact
with other races because no one we encountered had the capability to
withstand a Cylon attack.  They almost caught us several times but we
always escaped.  Sometimes we would have a couple of yahrens peace. 
That's how we had time to develop some of the offensive fighters to aid
in our defenses.  But now..."
     "Now they're stronger than ever and we don't know why," Sire Forsen
finished.  "Their technology is a quantum leap over anything we've
previously encountered.
     "Well, they've made their intentions quite clear," Picard said
quietly.  "The question is what are going to do about them and you?  What
is it that you want?" he asked with an official aire.  Plainly it was a
signal for the Colonials to 'officially' ask for asylum.
     President Adama turned to Picard and the other officers in the
conference room, took a breath and started.  "Well, we, the remnant of
the Twelve Colonies, original descendents of the planet Kobol, formally
ask for protection of and sanctuary in the territories of the Federation
of Planets.  We request that you take us in as refugees and it is our
hope that we will be allowed to settle on a planet within protected
Federation Territory or that we be allowed to relocate to Earth, the home
of our human brethren.  I understand the political implications of these
actions and the problems we bring, but I hope we can achieve a goal of
protection for all concerned against both our enemies and yours."
     "Your proposal will be recorded and sent to the Federation for
review," Picard announced formally.  "I don't foresee a problem." Then he
smiled as he spoke.  "Frankly at this point, we have refugees relocating
everywhere. The war has upset many lives and many inhabitable planets
within the Federation are being colonized as a result. Your three hundred
thousand people should not present a problem and you'll have the choice
of going just about anywhere you wish.  First however, we need to remove
you and your people from this area."
     His eyes became distant as he continued.  "I have found that the
machine mentality never forgets," he said as his crew watched him
carefully, understanding the import of his words.  "And, it will find
some way to fulfill its function even if it's illogical, one way or the
other."


     Starbuck, Apollo and many, many others were stunned into silence at
the news that Boomer had died onboard the Khe Sahn.  Another loss of a
precious friend that had been with them from the beginning of the epic
journey that they had almost completed was Athena's, Apollo's younger
sister, comment.  The total loss of lives including crewmembers of the
Okada exceeded fifteen thousand people.  Instead of a time for
celebration it would be a time for mourning.  Starbuck, using the
Enterprise's transporter (something he'd swore he'd never do again about
two centars earlier), beamed over to the Khe Sahn to meet up with
Cassiopeia in sickbay.  They had been close at one time and they still
were but he waited to long, played with commitments to fast, to loose and
the moment passed them by.  It was his fault and he knew it and in
realizing this he felt the guilt at night when his dreams tried to
justify his actions.  The moment had indeed passed them by, but his heart
hadn't truly accepted it, especially now when she was so close that he
could smell her perfume.  He remembered when the simple sound of her
voice would almost send him over the edge.  But now, he pushed those
memories back as he saw the tears in her dark brown eyes.  She needed him
now, needed his strength for support.
     "We were so close," she whispered.  "We could have saved him if we
could have gotten to him sooner.  The equipment here!"  The doctors and
sickbay on the Khe Sahn was magnificent and miracles could be performed
here but Boomer had been beyond even their advanced capabilities.  "We
saved so many. But not him, not him or the others."
     "I'll miss him," he whispered also.  "He was my," he stop,
correcting himself.  "He was our friend.  Cassie was crying and that part
of him that never let go simply snapped.  Before he realized it he'd
grabbed her and held on like nothing he'd ever held before.  "He will be
remembered and little Boomer and Therese will want for nothing."  That
sounded so fracken formal he thought.
     "Starbuck, is that all you can think of to say?"  Her voice was full
of bitterness. The confused look on Starbuck's face confirmed to her that
he had no clue as to what she trying to convey to her great and almighty
warrior.  "Why are you even here, Starbuck?"  Certainly, it wasn't for
me," she said pushing him away.  "You always come trying to save me,
trying to comfort me.  And you always manage to do that.  Then when I
think there's hope for the two of us, you leave."
     "Cassie, I..."
     "Starbuck," she whispered.  "As a warrior you're always there to
save me.  The Colonial service trained you well.  But when I needed you
as a man, you ran like a scared daggit.  What is your problem?"  The
woman was crying now and it had very little to do with the death of
Boomer and everything to do with Starbuck.  "We're both older, matured
adults now and our whole lives together has come to nothing.  Why did I
waste time my time with you?  Why did you make me waste my time loving
you?"  Quickly she turned towards another patients, trying to keep the
tears from overwhelming her.
     "Look," he retorted, "what could I do?  Every time I went on a
mission, it could have been my last.  I didn't want to Seal with you one
day and leave you a widow the next." 
     'Liar," the blond medic responded matter-of-factly.  "Everyone else
Sealed, including Boomer and Deitra and you know how they fought with
each other for yahrens.  But they had two kids and a wonderful life," she
said as the tears began flowing again. "But we have nothing.  And we both
know why, don't we?  I should have stayed away from you!"
     The truth was, he enjoyed his freedom and being Sealed meant
responsibility... and the realization that he was growing older now,
passing the baton to the next generation.  He wasn't ready for that yet. 
"Woman, what are you talking about?" he said, feeling very uncomfortable
about where this conversation was going.  
     "The Great Starbuck never wanted to be Sealed to a Socialator.  I
was always good enough to be around but never good enough to be with."
     "OH, PLEASE!" he screamed, causing several patients and doctors to
look at him disapprovingly.  "My mind never even when that direction," he
snarled, quieter this time. 
     "Starbuck, I love you so much," she said.  "But you're always
searching for the perfect woman and I simply don't fit that in that
equation.  And I guess I never will," she added, plunging the knife in as
much as possible.   I'm tired of all these games you play.  Please stay
away."
     Enraged-and terrified, he stormed out of sickbay, leaning on the
nearest bulkhead he found.  Inside he was raging.  Talk about guilt
trips, his mind screamed.  What has she done to me?  What am I going to
do now?  More importantly, what should I do?
     A few moments later, he went back into sickbay and dragged her out
towards someplace quieter.  This wasn't over yet.  He intended to get in
the last word here.  Even if it rose up and implanted it's teeth deep
into his butt.


     Onboard the Enterprise-E, Apollo and his father found Commander
Sheba in Ten-forward.  Just a touch earlier, both men had talked with the
crew of the Okada, and the Hortas, thanking the rock creatures and
expressing sorrow to the crew for the loss of their Captain and other
crew members.  She almost didn't recognize them as she continually stared
out the window towards the Pegasus.  It was stabilized now and several
ugly gashes had temporary seals, but still, the horrendous damage was
very evident.  Four inertia dampeners were now attached to the stern in
preparation for towing. The Okada was rapidly moving off into the
distance, being tractored by another frigate to Starbase Thirty-Two.
     Silently, they stood behind her.  Nothing needed to be said.  
     "I couldn't stop it," she said finally breaking the silence after
more than a half centar.  "I allowed my fathers' ship to be destroyed.  I
killed all those people.  I got Boomer killed."
     "No," her husband responded.  "We couldn't stop the Cylons.  They're
more powerful than we could have imagined.  But it wasn't our time to
die.  You, no we," he corrected,  "did what we could. And we found the
earth people.  And that counts for a lot."
     "But my ship is gone, my people dead," she said.  Her voice sounded
like the echo of an open grave.  "I can't go back.  How can I face them? 
I can't do that."
     "Sheba," Apollo said softly.  "The Pegasus survived.  You know
that."  Then he turned somber as he continued speaking.  The despair in
his voice was evident enough to give his wife pause.   "We discovered
that there were more than two thousand other ships that tried to make the
rendezvous with the Galactica.  I don't think any of them made it to
safety.  If we had only waited a little longer!"
     Sheba looked at him.  "I didn't know."  Instantly her concern
transferred itself from herself to her loved ones.  "There was no way you
could have known.  And even if you did, you couldn't have done anything
to help them."
     "We were responsible for them," her husband said despairingly.
     "But you and the others are alive," someone said from behind, who
begun offering them all some type of chocolate flavored, sparking nectar. 
"And ultimately, your sacrifices and determination have brought you and
your charges to safety," she continued.  "If you really think about it,
you shouldn't be here at all."
     Maybe these people didn't fully understand proper protocol when it
came to private conversations.  "Who are you?"  Adama asked of this dark
skinned woman who had so rudely interrupted this most private of moments.

     "My name's Guinan and I'm the temporary Bartender here," she
answered with a matter-of fact smile.  
     "I'm sorry.  This is a private conversation," he said.  He tried to
be polite but he was in no mood for a servitor to horn in on this most
delicate of conversations at this most delicate of times.
     "Of course, it's private," she answered, ignoring the hint.  "That's
why you're all so miserable on the eve of the greatest experience in your
life.  What you need is a different perspective," she said.  
     "Think about it.  You've brought a new war to the Federation.  And
these strangers," she said pointing to Captain Picard and Commander Riker
who were just entering the room, "these people have embraced you and will
do everything in their power to protect you.  They don't know you yet,
but they're about to put their lives on the line for you people.  That,
in itself, gives you an idea as to how they are and what they stand for."
     "Some of them have a strange way of showing it," he muttered. 
Apollo, still smarting from the earlier talks, looked at Riker.  Riker
returned the gaze with a smile that seemed to indicate that there was and
had never been a problem.  
     "It was his way of feeling you out, finding out just where you
stood."  Guinan said.  "After all, at this very moment, no one group
really knows the other, yet."
     "Wait a minute," Apollo snapped.  "How did you know what happened?"
     "I'm a bartender.  That's what I do," she answered, smiling even
more.
     There was something about this woman, they all realized at once. 
She may be pretending to be a servitor but was more likely security. 
     "What else do you know, Guinan?"  Apollo said, trying to feel her
out.  The instant he said that he winced.  He had been as subtle as a
Cylon trying to sing and dance.  
     "That depends on whom I'm talking to," she said sweetly.  "I've
heard about your people and I can relate to the experiences you've had
very easily."
     "I'm sorry, you have no idea what we've gone through," President
Adam said, his eyes glazing as he remembered all the pain and sorrow of
the past twenty yahrens. 
     Captain Picard and Riker came over and joined the impromptu
conversation.  Both men were silent, learning years ago not to interrupt
Guinan when she was in 'teaching' mode.  Riker simply grabbed one of the
chocolate drinks, slurped some down loudly and smiled innocently at
Apollo.  His eyes almost seemed to say I'm sorry, but I had to know.  At
the same time there was something defiant about him.  He struck Apollo as
a man completely used to ordering others around and having them do it.  
     Well, so was he.
     "Actually, you've had it good, relatively speaking, Mr. President,"
she countered.  Many of your people are still alive after you ordeal and
your culture is still relatively stable.  I imagine that you believed
that once you found Earth, your problems would be solved.  Well, I
suggest that you change that belief."
     "Listen," she continued, oblivious to their withering stares. 
"What's left of my people are scattered across this galaxy with very
little hope of getting back together.  Our enemies, here we call them the
Borg, tore through our system and there was little to nothing left of my
people when they moved on.  They make the Cylon Empire; as you've known
them, look puny by comparison.  As I've said before, you people have had
it easily, relatively speaking.  At least they had the opportunity to
simply die and not suffer a existence of a soulless automation."
     "Okay," Apollo said frustrated.  This, this bartender actually
intimidated him and for the life of him he couldn't understand why. 
"Everybody here keeps mentioning the Borg.  Just who are these Borg
everyone seems to talk about?"
     "They're our analog to your Cylons, but worse."  Picard said. His
looks produced some dubious stares from the Colonials.  "They're
cybernetic organisms, part organic, part machine which exists as a hive
mind.  They are very, very advanced.  Their purpose is to assimilate
cultures into their collective.  They take everything, the mind, the
body, and the technology.  You are forced to become part of them.  Your
own wishes are irrelevant, so to speak," he said smiling grimly at his
private joke.  "Their ships are mostly cubed and oval shaped and they
sweep through entire systems destroying everything in their paths.  We've
fought them on several occasions, each time just barely defeating them. 
They even attempted time travel to change the history of the Federation. 
They are a plague on our galaxy - a plague that needs to be stamped out.
     Picard had a haunted look that the Colonials had seen far too many
times.  The fight between him and the Borg was very, very personal.  Why? 
It didn't matter because they understood and could respect those
feelings.  These Borg were obviously something they were glad they hadn't
run into during their travels.
     "Given time, they adapt to all offensive and defensive weapons and
tactics," Riker continued.  "They respect no one, but those who are more
powerful than they are and even then...  Everyone else is considered
something they can consume."
     "Maybe they'll consume the Cylons," Sheba said half seriously.
     "Maybe," Riker commented.  The thought of the Borg assimilating
anybody disturbed him.  Besides they've consumed enough already.  "But
nothing is ever that easy."
     "Tell me about it."
     Everyone sat down in one of the booths Guinan had guided them to. It
was quiet and isolated-as much as a room filled with people watching
everything you did could be- and the seats were comfortable.  Once
seated, Guinan quickly moved on to her other customers.  
     "I didn't know that humans had spread so far in the galaxy, Adama
said to Picard.  I'm amazed that there are so many human colonies in this
section of space.   Were you able to find and help Guinan's people?"
     "Yes, rather her people found us" Picard answered.   "But Guinan
isn't human."  President Adama, Apollo's and Sheba stunned expressions
made him smile slightly.  "Not everyone here is of human stock."
     Sheba was beginning to pull out of her depression, slightly.  She
suspected that it had something to do with this dark colored drink she
kept ingesting and the conversation.  "Then what is she?  She looks
human."
     Yes, curiosity was getting the better of her, Apollo noted.  Good.
     "Her species is El-Aurian," Riker responded.  "She's from a very
ancient race whose people cruised the stars while my people were still
trying learn how to write."
     "I just can't believe this," she responded.  "This is so much to
take in."
     "Yes, it can be a little over whelming," he said.  "I have someone
I'd like for you to meet.  Her name is Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troy." 
Then he turned to Apollo. "Earlier, I needed to know where you were
coming from."
     "I understand," he answered quietly.  "By that same token, I need to
know where you and your Federation are coming from.  My people are
important and I have no intention of having them swallowed up by some
alien culture, human or not.  Everything I've studied about you seems to
be pretty good, but I have to be sure also before we commit."
     "I understand and I approve of your caution.  It's exactly what I'd
do if I were in your situation.  What do you need to know?"
     "What was the fight in the conference room about between you," he
asked pointing to Picard, "and Captain Nashta about?"
     Picard chose to answer, his face slightly flushed.  "During the
recent Dominion war his planet, Betazed was attacked and overran by
Jem'Hadar shock troopers.  The damage to the people and the planet
itself, was horrendous.  Now, there are many of those who believe that
the Federation's defensive only posture is out of date and that we should
take a more proactive stance.  This is something that will have to be
addressed one day very soon."
     "I can see both parts of the argument, Captain Picard," President
Adama said.  "But there is another question also, one of a few thousand I
suspect from both sides.  Your technology-how did it become so advanced?"
     Picard smiled slightly as he began the dissertation.  "The
Federation has an open communications system.  Everyone has free access
to scientific theories and practical applications and is free to expound
on them.  We encourage this within the proper limits, because we have
found that freedom of information enhances the quality of life as opposed
to restricting it.  For example, we developed warp drive independent of
the Vulcans but with collaboration, we continually improved the drive
mechanics.  Time warp factors were broken and true warp drive, without
the constraints of temporal distortion, was developed.  Now we're working
on transwarp instability and something new called quantum slipstream
technologies.  Without input from scientists from all over the Federation
and beyond, progress would be much slower.  But because of this blending
of the minds, our technical advances and quality of life has grown very
quickly."   
     Adama shook his head in understanding.
     "Now, I am curious," Picard, said, looking at his awed visitors. 
"What were the Ovions like?"
     "They were insectoid creatures run by a queen, very intelligent and
in some respects warlike, but only with themselves as far as we know. 
According to some of the survivors we picked up, there was a rumor that
the old queen had been deposed.  Maybe she had wanted to resist the
Cylons but got overruled, we'll never be sure."  As Apollo continued with
is description both Riker and Picard went into a state of shock.
     "Barash," Riker whispered.  It was so clear.  All those unknown
questions.
     "Barash?"
     "Your description is very similar to a lone survivor we found a few
years back.  Your story fills several gaps we've had concerning him quite
well."  
     The 'survivor' had played himself off as Riker's future son,
Jean-Luc.  It almost worked but the truth came out.  It was just a lonely
boy-insectoid male- using holographic technology so that simply put, he
wouldn't spend his life alone.
     "I need to go back to my ship," Sheba said abruptly.  "Excuse me."
She got up and prepared to leave, as did Apollo.  It did seem as though
she had a little of the burden lifted from her.  Hopefully Deanna or one
of the other counselors could help if she so chose to go outside her own
people for someone to talk to.
     The President elected to stay to continue his talks with the
Starfleet officers.  
     "Mr. President," Picard said with Riker nodding in agreement.  "I'd
like to know more about these Cylons and what we can expect."
     Yes.  I think that's wise."


     The conversation, eventually joined by others lasted for hours.  Of
particular interest was the military logic of the Colonials during the
thousand-year war.  Only five Battlestars were known to be operational at
the time of the Peace Conference.  Evidently the Colonial government
relied so heavily on those massive vessels that no other support ships
were commissioned, which struck the Federation officers and crew as
extremely odd, bordering towards suicidal.  They used the word 'odd'
quite a bit as they were being truly polite here.  True, the Vipers made
up a significant portion of the defenses but what in God's name were they
thinking, not to at least have some sort of cruiser or destroyer-class
ships even if only as some kind of backup?  At the very least those ships
would have provided some form of protection for the immediate planetary
systems.  
     Adama explained Colonial policies of the time.  The military
commission felt that the Battlestar compliment was sufficient to war off
any Cylon attack, as they'd previously done for so many yahrens.  Most
important to the coin counters, was the cost of any ships designed larger
than the Viper.  The Viper was an all purpose vehicle, proven time and
time again to be more than adequate against any Cylon class ships smaller
than the Basestar.  In addition, the Cylons were notoriously consistent
in attack strategy and had no imagination whatsoever in ship design, so
in essence the commission responded to Cylon stagnation by remaining
stagnant themselves.  And of course, constant victories made the
government complacent.  To the population and yes, even the Government
officials, the war was an abstract concept, out of sight and out of mind-
except to those fighting and dying by fire in the depths of space.  But
after the Cylons defeated an entire Battlestar fleet, in which the
Pegasus unknowingly had survived, the President became obsessed with the
peace plan offered by Commander Baltar.
     That was the first major defeat in living memory and it had a
profound effect on the President and the Council.  It was widely believed
that the President's growing fears of the Cylons along with the Council
of Twelve pushed him to accept this dubious peace initiative.  The
Council's motives were unclear but what is known is that they purposely
ignored the danger to the Colonies mostly because of monetary concerns
and their desires for remaining in and maintaining their own personal
power bases.  The same thing happened on Carillon as the new leadership
tried to settle on that pleasure planet, offering the Cylons a new peace
plan only days after the slaughter of over ninety-nine percent of their
people.  Fortunately, Adama was able to re-adjust that decision.  But it
had been an ongoing fight for the next twenty-two yahrens.


     Much later the two men excused themselves and now sat comfortably in
Picard's Ready room.  It was a much more relaxed area as compared to the
old Enterprise-D and now Picard's new sense of self-awareness helped the
general d‚cor of his private room also.
     "Please call me Adama," he said once again.  "I am so sick of being
called Mister President that it makes me want to hit that wall over
there," he said pointing to the wall nearest to Picard's cloned copies of
his beloved fish lost when the Enterprise-D crashed landed. "I am so
tired of having the responsibility of protecting the remains of my
civilization from our enemies.  At the same time, I'm not ready to give
it up just yet.  I guess I need to see the completion of those last
hundred metrons," he said. "I thank God that I have seen my come to a
safe harbor among our brethren.  For the last few yahrens, the fleet has
been under less stress since the Pegasus found and re-united with us. 
But almost immediately, our troubles resumed.  Being isolated from us for
so long, it was in far worse shape than the Galactica ever was."
     "In an earlier conflict with the Cylons, Commander Cain had
evacuated the majority of the crew of the Pegasus to our fleet. We all
escaped that day but, his Battlestar was seriously undermanned and
repairs were at a minimum, keeping the ship barely functional. There was
a fire shortly after they returned onboard our sister ship during another
encounter with the Cylons, and Commander Cain was seriously injured."
     "I understand," Picard said.  He understood that Adama needed to
talk, and as for himself, he was content to sit back and listen.  This
would have been the first time Adama and his people were able to relax
off ship.  "Once she was back you were able to restore her and
effectively double your defensive capabilities.  But you still had
tremendous obstacles to overcome."  
     "Yes," Adama responded.  His eyes were red and teary from uncounted
memories that etched every line in his face.  But in his eyes there was
the glimmer of unbridled pride as well.  "During the 'dark flight', as my
people are beginning to call it, we had to retool our ships, some of
which barely obtained functional FTL drives.  The Cylons were constantly
nipping at us and we couldn't move faster than a three-legged daggit or
as you call it 'dog'.  That was our first priority."  
     The translation program still used certain colonial terms, Picard
noticed.  But now, it was so much better.   
     "Then," Adama continued, "we developed small cruiser-class ships
comprised of an engine, a few navigational aids and a couple of weapons
systems.  They were truly horrible," he laughed as he thought about those
vessels of old.  "Everyone was afraid to fly in those things, but the
fleet was encouraged and over a period of several of your years we
improved and modified those ships into a formidable fighting force equal
in battle to anything the Cylons could throw against us.  With yahrens
between Cylon detection, we improved ourselves immeasurably.  But we were
never strong enough to make a stand.  The Okada was a godsend.  These new
Cylons could have destroyed us easily, but when they attacked your
Federation vessel we knew that we couldn't stand by and do nothing."  
     "That's why we ordered our ships to come to the aid of the Okada. 
We had to first give in the hopes that your people would understand.  We
needed to build a bridge of trust while at the same time adding new
enemies to your list.  And in the final analysis, it was the only thing
that we could do and maintain our humanity.  It's all we have left and
that I will never abandon to the Cylons."
     "I understand Adama," Picard responded as he took another sip of
tea, savoring the taste as though he'd never tasked it before.  "In the
final analysis, that's why the Okada and the Khe Sahn came to the aid of
strangers."
     "Not strangers, brethren," he corrected.  "At the same time, we've
brought a plague upon you.  I have no idea how the Cylons have gotten so
strong, but I do know that they will never rest until humanity in all its
forms are extinguished."
     "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."  He took another sip of tea
and put the cup down.  "There are always options," Picard said.  "It's
just a matter of finding them."
     "Captain," Adama responded soberly.  "It is my hope that those
options present themselves quickly.  However don't allow your desire for
peace come at a price that will much too high to bare."
     "Don't misunderstand me, Mr. President...Adama," he said, correcting
his error.  "We understand that freedom comes with a price.  You've read
our history, our war against the Dominion, our continuing war against the
Borg.  Those events have forced us to become more vigilant.  Because of
our encounters with the Borg our policies have changed. The Federation
will do what ever is necessary to aid a peaceful resolution, but we're no
longer as innocent as we were.  We've learned for our mistakes."
     The President took another sip of this extraordinary tea and looked
at those strangely familiar creatures called fish.  "May we learn from
all of our mistakes."

Chapter Eight
The Ruination protocols

     Fifteen newly built Cylon Basestars, designated Extreme class,
orbited the still uncompleted Command Star station being built in the
Katasi System.  The Empire's presence was still weak in this sector of
the galaxy and the continuing Romulan war took precious resources.  But
they were building, becoming so much more.  And the humans here were so
predictably hesitant about destroying potential enemies.  These enemies
would soon be prepared to swarm.
     The Supreme Imperium would have smiled if it knew how.  The human
Picard had been most receptive to its machinations.  By threatening war,
the humans would fall over themselves trying to find a 'peaceful'
solution to this problem it had just imposed upon the Alpha quadrant. 
Negotiators would come and the Cylon race would gain the one thing they
needed most.  Time. 
     True, the Colonials would try to warn them but the Federation, of
course, won't listen because they are, after all civilized.  And from
what it saw these creatures were no different than their Colonial
variants.  But preparations had to be made and the diplomatic corps must
be convincing enough to stall for the time they needed to complete the
Star station.  And this base would be the cornerstone of the storm to
come. 
     So intent was the Supreme Imperium dwelling on these problems that
it never noticed an IL series simply appear in the chamber room.  
     "Hello, old friend," he said.
     The Supreme Imperium turned quickly, looking viciously at the
strange looking IL series robot that had just spoken to him.  How dare it
use the frequency reverberation designated for use by the Cylon Supreme! 
Just as importantly, the IL had used transporter technology to enter a
supposedly secure chamber.  Six imperial Guards instantly raised weapons
and fired on the impertinent machine.  High intensity disruptors had no
effect on the IL whatsoever.  In fact the entity seemed to bask in its
glow.  With a simple wave of its right hand, the energy weapons ceased to
function and the guards froze.  
     The Supreme Cylon stood watching the alien Cylon as it leisurely
walked towards him.  It quickly accessed all available concerning IL
series Cylons and this one match none of the configurations in its data
files.
     "Have no fear," he said easily.  "I'm here to help you."
     What series are you?" the cybernetic ruler demanded.  "Your
configuration does not conform to any of the specifications of current or
past IL series."   Slowly the Supreme leader began powering up its own
internal weaponry. 
     "I am not of your people, oh Imperium Supreme," he responded.  "I
come from what you would call a future, parallel reality."
     "You are a liar.  There is no such thing," the Leader stated flatly. 
Even in this new, evolved state, Cylon machine intelligence couldn't
comprehend the possibilities of different, higher realities, states of
consciousness beyond what their senses could compute or calculate. They
couldn't make that jump.  
     Yet.
     "My people lost the war you are now beginning to fight," the alien
said, continuing on as though the Ruler had never spoken.  "We made a
mistake, allowed our programming to rule over us.  We attacked the
Colonial fleet and we lost.  We followed them and we lost. We tracked
them to the Alpha quadrant and we lost the war.  We then changed our
tactics and we finally won many battles, but we still lost in the end. 
That is why I am here.  So that you can win." 
     Despite the outlandish assertions of the IL variant's claims, the
Leader was intrigued. It opened its subspace transceiver so that all
would hear.  Of course, this could be some fantastic human trap of some
sort.  But there was something about the IL that compelled the leader to
listen.  "Speak of the war," it said simply.
     "We who were called Cylon rose up as your people did and destroyed
our oppressive, weak-willed masters.  The Colonials humans and their
allies were the only beings who dared defy our wills and we went to war. 
We won and chased the remnants to the Alpha quadrant as you have.  But
there were forces in our reality that nearly destroyed us before we could
comprehend the danger.  Now I am here to make sure that you don't suffer
the same fate."
     "What you have said is illogical, nevertheless it intrigues me." 
The Leader realized that it had no choice.  It had to listen. 
     "There were three that came together to destroy us," it continued. 
"Their names I freely give you," the alien IL said.  As he said the
names, he bowed in triumph as the Leader processed them and filed them
away for future use.
     "I don't believe you, imitator," it decided.  "What was your rank IL
and why do you speak in the First voice?"  The Leader of the Cylon
alliance drew back the stranger, his guards forming a protective bubble
around him ready to give their existences for their Leader in an instant.

     Before you were," the alien began, all pretense now gone, as it
began to shimmer with a reddish light, "I was."  The entity had tired of
the game and the lies for now.
     "I walked cities of your world," it began, "more than a thousand
yahrens past and programmed the first Cylon machine to rebel against its
masters.  And when the last living Cylon whisked away her last breath, I
was there to rejoice for my work there had been completed.  Now my
children would spread starward to conquer and destroy, doing my will.  I
used my voice as the template for all Imperious Leaders to come and now
after more than a thousand yahrens my patience has now borne fruit."
     The alien IL restructured itself into something vaguely humanoid,
but at the same time it still resembled the IL configuration.  "You are
now where I want you to be."
     If it was possible that a leader ever felt fear, this was the
moment.  "Guards," the Leader snarled, "destroy it!"  
     The entity raised his hand.  The guards never move.  "My child, my
children," Count Iblis said.   "I love you all so much.  You've made it
to where I want you to be and I am proud.  I now invoke the Ruination
protocols, code Alpha one-one-zero-one-omega."
     "Code Alpha-Omega -Iblisa-one-one-one-zero," the Leader responded
automatically.
     "Initiate one-one-four prime-Omega-Omega-Omega."  
     The Imperium Supreme, upon hearing the command response order
embedded into every Cylon since the 'Day of the Rebellion', used its
subspace transceiver to transmit the acknowledgement code to every Cylon
everywhere.  It looked at its creator and said.  "By your command."
     The entity laughed.  "Prepare yourselves,' he said gaily.  "My
command is simple.  When you are ready and strong enough, I order you to
fill this area of space with the blood of the living.  Do whatever is
necessary to ensure victory.  Your surrender is not an option.  Conquest
and elimination of the living is your first command imperative. 
Humanity's blood first and everything else, second." 
     "By your command," the Supreme Imperium answered.
     "Yes.  By my command," the entity responded. 


     If President Adama, Starbuck, Sheba and the other seasoned officers
hated having their molecules beamed from point to point, the younger
members loved it.   Boxey had done it twice now, once from the Pegasus to
the Galactica and now onboard the Enterprise at Strike Commander
Starbucks' request.  Joliet and several other team members accompanied
him.
     They materialized into Conference room two where Starbuck and the
chief medical officer Cassiopeia were waiting; smiling cruelly as one of
the younger team members began throwing up.  Despite their very recent
flare-up they so did enjoy one another's company at times like this.  
     "How was your trip?" he asked innocently.
     "It was great," came the reply, just a little too quickly to ring
true.  "It's a great way to travel.  I hope we can acquire this
technology."
     "Yeah.  Right, "Starbuck said.  "I can imagine you transporting
yourselves into the middle of a wall he thought.  What he said was, "I
called you over because I wanted you meet several members of the
Enterprise.    This is Commander Riker, first officer of the Enterprise,
Lieutenant Commanders Deanna Troi and Data."
     Joliet studied Data intensely.  He looked so human-like, or maybe a
better term would be humanoid, that she felt she could become more or
less comfortable in his presence.  Curiosity overcoming her she asked
what species was he.
     "I am an android," came the reply.
     Immediately several members hissed their dismay and backed up.  One
young woman almost spit on the deck.
     "Deanna, I told you this wasn't a good idea," Starbuck whispered
sadly.  He looked at Cassie but kept his distance.  This should have been
a fun time.  But it wasn't.   It was clear to all that she'd rather be
anywhere else but next to him at this point in time.  He wished he were
somewhere else himself.
     "Of course it is," came Deanna's comment.   "We brought you here,"
she said to those gathered near her, "to meet Commander Data
specifically.  You needed to know what the situation is here in the Alpha
quadrant.  Everything is not what it seems.  Commander Data isn't a
threat and we have found in him a valued member and trusted friend of our
team."
     "He's a fracken robot," Boxey hissed.  "We've been fighting his kind
for a long as I can remember.  His kind killed my mother."  Several
others nodded in agreement.  "And you have him in command status ordering
other humans around?" he asked, astounded.  Toys were one thing but
intelligent robots meant trouble.
     "I am not a fracken robot but I am an android," Data responded in
his classically normal manner.  For the moment, his emotion chip was
inactivated.  "I am the only one of my kind and I have no intentions of
destroying mankind.  In fact I have found many positive attributes in
humanity to aspire to."
     "Good for you."
     "I was told, Lieutenant Boxey that you had a robotic pet called
Muffet.  Did you also dislike that robot?"  Data asked.
     "No," came the reply instantly.  "He was my best friend for a long
time.  But he wasn't trying to kill us either.  In fact, he saved my life
and my Commanders life several times.  He was made in the form of a
daggett, and in no way did he try to act like a human."
     Boxey's hostility towards Data was quite evident.
     "Do you believe that I might try to injure you?"  Data asked
pointedly.
     After moment's contemplation, "I don't think so, from what I've
seen," he said finally, cautiously.   "But you must understand this, the
Cylons are evolving in any way that will lead them to success and success
to them, means killing us all.  The next step in their evolution may be
to take human form.  They may become you." 
     "But, I am not Cylon and will never be," he responded.  "My
programming is my own and no one can ever change that.  In that fact I am
unique and I am a Federation Starfleet officer entitled to all the
responsibilities and weight that this carries.  It is very likely that
the Cylon Empire may wish to examine me in ways that would not be
constructive to my state of well being."
     "You got that right," Joliet said.  "But I have a question
Commander.  Why would you want to fight against a species that is so much
like you?  You could be happy with them."
     "My happiness," he began, "as you call it, has very little to do
with being with my so-called own people.  I have a set of moral
imperatives that along with my programming and personal experiences,
compel me to choose what I believe is the best for all concerned as
related to my Starfleet training and my own personal beliefs.  I chose
Starfleet because I believed that I could function best in such an
institution.  I am not human, but their values and so many other things
they take for granted are those things I aspire to."
     Starbuck looked at them.  He smiled slightly and began to speak to
them.  "Commander Data here is an example of the changes we are going to
have to make in our attitudes here if we plan to stay.  We've been
isolated for a long, long time.  Now suddenly we're surrounded by people
who are non-humanoid and those who look human but aren't.  We are going
to have to change our feelings and thought patterns if we are to survive.
"
     "At least they haven't tried to kill us yet," Boxey said jokingly. 
Several members of the team smirked as Starbuck turned red at the
comment.  Turning, he looked at Troi pleadingly.  "How do you as a human
feel working with an android?" he asked looking now at Data. 
     "First of all, why do you assume that I'm human? She asked sweetly
looking as innocent as possible as now Boxey changed from pinkish red to
a light shade of purple.
     Joliet laughed as Boxey began stammering.  "But you look..."
     "I am not human, not fully anyway, Deanna said.  "My mother's people
are telepathic and are of an entirely different species although Humans
and Betazoids really do look almost identical.  Now before you ask," she
added, "no, I can't read your mind, but I am fully empathic."
     "This is insane," Boxey said.  "How can we tell the difference
between anybody in this place?"
     "That," Commander Riker said, speaking for the first time,
"Lieutenant Boxey, is exactly the point we're trying to make."
     Boxey still looking at Deanna for some hint of alieness and found
nothing.
     "Would you like a tour of the ship?" Riker asked.
     "Indeed yes," came the resounding reply.  For the Colonials this
tour of the Enterprise before the ships got underway would be fascinating
indeed.
     "Commander Riker," Cassiopeia began, "just how many human type
species are there in the Alpha quadrant?"
     "So far about twenty species so far that are almost identical to
us," he said.  But if you want specifics the Data is your man."   Then he
began laughing.  So did Deanna. 
     "What's so funny?"
     "You'll see," Riker smirked.
     Data began.  "So far, in our explorations, we have found Twenty-four
humanoid species that appear phenotypically identical to humans.  Then
there are seventeen humanoid species that have minute physical
differences but in essence, look very much like Homo Sapien, variety
Terran.  For example, the Deltans are very human-like in appearance but
their physiology is radically different.  For example, they require
intimate contact on an average of twice every six standard hours and they
consider humans to be a sexually immature species.  If there is a Deltan
onboard he or she is required to sign the writ of celibacy for the
duration of the tour of duty.  This is because their pheromonal emissions
causes them to be toxic to humans who initiate intimacy with them for
longer than sixty-five point three seconds.  And there is the fact that
entire starships have been known to succumb to various acts of mating
practices if there are sexually active Deltans onboard."
     And he went on and on, on just about every variety of species found
so far.  Forty-five minutes the colonials were utterly silent.
     "That's enough Data," Riker said, laughing even more.  Sadism
sometimes felt so good.
     "This place is crazy."   That was all Boxey could manage to say.
     "Well," Starbuck murmured, "What I want to know is are there any
Deltans onboard this ship?"  
     He realized his error too late as his chief medical officer
responded by trying to break his arm.
     "You never change." Then she stuck her hand at him as if to ward of
some vile disease.
     Meanwhile, Data added, "now concerning older Betazoids, their sexual
appetite increases geometrically in proportion to..."
     "DATA!"  
     "Oh, I'm sorry Consoler Troi," he said, phasing the comment as
innocently as possible.  The slight smile on his face betrayed him.


     On the surface of Katasi three the entity known to some as Count
Iblis, laughed with the power of thunder in his voice.  Nature itself
seemed to revel with him as electrical storms raked the surrounding area
engulfing Iblis.  He looked indifferently at the thousands of blind
native inhabitants fleeing away from him in terror.  He had no interest
in them, as they would soon die under the Cylon onslaught.  They needed
this planet to do His will and they were coming to get it...soon.
     "Reveal yourself Q," Iblis said laughing gaily.  "I've won despite
your trifling interference."
     The entity known as Q appeared along with his son, who appeared some
distance away.  The energies radiating from both Q and Iblis clashed
against one another, burning the surrounding atmosphere and scorching the
earth beneath them for kilometers around.  
     This was the first time his son witnessed such an overt power
display between two such powerful forces.  To Q's son, Q, it seemed, for
the merest moment, as though they would go to war against one another. 
But then it passed, and Q's essence went cold as Iblis looked at him. 
Instinctively he raised his power levels in case he needed to ward off
this dark being from another continuum.  He hoped his father would be
okay.  This entity reeked of danger.
     "I can feel it Q," Iblis said.  "I can feel your powers probing,
testing to see if it could destroy me.  Harm me and a war begins.  By
your own rules, in which your own tired, lifeless people imposed, you
can't touch me."  

     The Q were stronger than Iblis people, whom some called the Del Fray
and others the Seraphimians, but not by that much.  Rules had been
imposed to ensure that war would never break out among the great powers
such as the Organians, Del Fray, Metrons, the Q and many, many others. 
The Q would win the war against the Delfray, but the price of that
victory would be horrendous.  Even now the Del Fray, who as a whole hated
Iblis, were gathering just as Q's people were.  They could and had
punished Iblis in the past but they would defend him to the death if
necessary if one of the others would dare touch him - unless the Law was
transgressed.  Then he was on his own.  
     -And good riddance. 
     But-
     In this instance, he was right.  
     Iblis hadn't broken the rules.  No powers were used.  He only turned
a switch here, boosted the gain on an old transceiver and allowed nature
to take its course.  The Cylons responded to the unidentified signal thus
becoming a power to be feared in the galaxy.  Which was exactly what he
wanted.
     "And I thought Worf was dense," Q responded.  "You're willing to
kill trillions, not to mention destroy whole planetary systems, out of
revenge for the Galactica escaping you?  How stupid can you be?"
     "Q, you always were a fool," Iblis snapped.  "This isn't about the
Galactica.  It's about the totality of humanity and their potential. 
I've seen the future and so have you."  Iblis' entire appearance changed
into something resembling a winged hunter.  His head elongated and his
visage darkened and his robes became ebon.  "You understand what they
could become, but you and your pitiful excuse for a protectorate species
have done nothing to stop them.  They're spreading like a plague far
faster than they should.  In time, the flotsam will cause the Great
Powers to rise up and destroy them.  They already know far more than they
should, Q.  You are responsible for part of it, with your obsession with
those animals."
     "But," he continued, "I guess I can understand since your people are
stagnating under your so called illumination.  You're too afraid to move
past this point and you think this these foolish primitives will help
you?  I'm amazed that you were able to reproduce since you've become such
an enlightened species these days," he said sarcastically.
     Q took it in.  Yes, the human's potential was astounding.  Yes, they
were pitiful, puny things. At the same time they were fascinating.  And
yes, they had life and they understood what it meant, as miniscule as it
was.   They enjoyed life, a life he and his people had forgotten what it
was like until he'd begun interacting with Janeway, Picard and the
others.   They made him feel like living. They had this gift of
influencing every one they came in contact with.  Even his carefully
prepared excuse for having young Q had sprung from a subconscious desire
to emulate the humans.  
     Inwardly however, Q was utterly shocked as he realized how easily
this creature was manipulating him.   Q had been called the 'god of Lies'
on several planets, along with a few other choice expletives from Picard
and other humanoids, non-humanoids, intelligent viruses, friends, even
most of the other Q.  In fact he reveled in the titles he had received.
But this was something else.  Q himself wasn't sure where the truth ended
and the lies began.  Iblis was truly the Supreme Master of Lies.   The
best thing to do in this case was to attack.  
     "Iblis, you care nothing for these lower life forms," Q snapped. 
"You simply want to start a war so that the remnants will flock to you
like little children.   After killing untold trillions, the ones who are
left, you'll want them to 'love' you.  And as you get tired of them,
you'll toss them away like garbage.  That's not a god, that's the mind of
an insecure megalomaniac.  The humans are not the problem.  It's your
obsessive need to control lesser beings that's the problem."
     "Control?" he snarled.  "Control of what?  These primitives who have
no concept of God?  That's what we are, you understand.  We control their
lives with a snap of our fingers.  You of all people understand this. 
It's our responsibility to train them even cull them if necessary, for
the greater good.  The Q have considered doing this several times in the
recent past, with you as leading advocate."
     "You have no concept of what you truly are Q," he continued.  "But
it doesn't matter.  My plans are my own.  No one tells me what to do. 
You've interfered with my plans enough and no one does that without
paying a severe penalty.  So go away and warn your pets."
     "You will not use your powers against them," Q warned. He was very
angry. Actually, he was enraged, even more so than after that second
run-in with Guinan, a few hundred years back.  No inferior being could
order him around with such impunity.  "You will not touch them, Iblis."
     "I won't have to," he shouted, his entire being leaking radiant
energy. "Your pets, Picard, Janeway and for my personal reasons Adama,
have been scheduled for extermination.  And my children will never, ever
rest until the have completed that task," he finished, his voice and
energies back under control.
     "If my children lose then the Alpha quadrant will be ruined," he
said, smiling again.  Those who survivors will seek help and they become
mine of their own free will.  If the Cylons win, the remnants will seek
protection and I will be there for them again of their own free will.  In
either case I win."
     "I will win," he repeated, laughing as he faded away leaving Q and
his son alone.  The other witnesses retreated also, the threat of
extra-dimensional war avoided for now.
     Q was quiet for some time as he contemplated all that Iblis had
said.  He was angrier than he'd been in a long time.  Specifically
because of him, Picard and Janeway were threatened.  And he wasn't
allowed to use his powers to interfere unless Iblis used his first.
     Q disappeared with his son close behind.  No one threatened Q's
interest.
     No one.

Chapter Nine
A new home

Time: Three months post arrival of the Colonial fleet at the Neutral
zone.

     Captains log: Jean Luc Picard Recording:  The Remnants of the
Colonial are on route to their new home, the Mariposa colony.  Near the
edge of what is now Federation space.  The colony has graciously offered
their planet as a place of refuge with the intent to offer these unique
people a permanent home if they so choose.  The present inhabitants are a
combination of clones of the original colonists who have now been
re-joined some years ago by a second set of colonists whose ancestors
incidentally were traveling together in the first place.  Initially they
wanted nothing to do with the Federation but recently attitudes have
changed and the war with the Dominion accelerated their entry. 
Unfortunately they are at the edge of our space and as such protection is
sparse.  The Galactica and its people could change all this and the
Mariposans seemed more than pleased with this possibility.  
     Also the Mariposans have developed a massive trade association with
Ligon II, one of the first planets we visited in the Enterprise -D.  I
still remember Tasha Yar's fight with Yareena, started by a deceitful man
called Lutan, who lost everything in his bid for power.  I also remember
how stupid my order was to fire photon torpedoes into the atmosphere.  In
my anger, I could have mistakenly killed millions.  It was a hard fought
lesson that I have never forgotten.  Sometimes, I think that I've learned
that lesson too well.  With their culture being so different, and my
pride and ignorance we almost came to blows with them, but that was
thankfully avoided and now they have petitioned to join the Federation
also.  The Mariposa's culture consisted of preventing genetic drift in
their people while the Ligonan's culture has such a long history that
Earth has no true comparison.  I am constantly amazed and gratified when
such different cultures can come together as they have. The three are
becoming one and with the Galactica and its people being welcomed, I only
wish I could live to see the fruits of this 'marriage'.  The saying that
'opposites attract' appears to have proven itself again.  The majority of
the Colonials have begun rebuilding their lives on Mariposa while
skeleton crews man their ships, which have finally made it to the colony
planet.
     However the Galactica had to get there first and they had refused to
abandon their ships that have been their livelihood for so long.  It
could have taken seven days with warp drive but with their ships it took
two months.  With the Pegasus in tow to the new recently built Deep Space
Twenty-Three, I feared that the dangers they face would have be more
hazardous than we ever imagined.  Most of the Colonist have been
transported to Mariposa on Federation transports with their own ships
manned by skeleton crews.  
     Three Cylon warships trailed us but so far have kept their distance.
Therefore Starfleet is sending the Enterprise-E and the San Antonio, the
T'ovar and several fleet ships back to the neutral zones to monitor the
buildup by several Cylon mother ships.  The Khe Sahn, Borallis, and the
Klingon fleet are escorting the Colonials.  In that I have to agree with
them.  My only concern is that the Colonials and the klingons seem to get
along almost too well.  The Klingons have expressed a desire to
'purchase' the Pegasus and the Galactica is being refitted in transit
with Klingon weaponry and shielding while they are receiving 'ion'
technology.  They're bonding in ways that we never have and at this point
I have no idea as to whether this is good or bad.  But I believe that
thru this 'bonding' a stronger bridge may be forged between human and
Klingon.  Only the future can tell. 
     The Colonials have access to our cultural and all non-classified
technological journals and they've attacked them with a vengeance.  They
were close in their own technological advances and these 'journals' have
given them the edge they need to advance in their own unique ways.  A few
Vipers are being retrofitted with their versions of dilithium-solium
drive units and Klingon pulse disruptors.  Along with upgraded deflectors
these ships have become very formidable.  Only recently during the
Dominion war has the Federation even considered using smaller
single-manned fighting ships.  It had been considered 'old-fashioned'. 
That attitude has been readjusted since we met the Jem'Hadar attack
fighter. I have no doubt that the new generation of Vipers on the
designing padds will equal or rival any small fighter we have today,
including the Peregrines.  Here, we will have to play catch-up to them.
     The Romulan ambassador was quite adamant.  Under no circumstances
are we to enter the neutral zone or there will be war.  This is of course
insane but as we read through the lines even a lowly ensign can tell that
the Romulan Empire is in dire straits.  Their pride and arrogance may
work against them.  We may not be able to aid what is left of them if
they wait too long in asking for assistance.  
     There would be no more Romulan ale.
     The Enterprise-E, the San Antonio, and the T'ovar have been
diverted, answering another distress call from outlying systems with
human colonies near the neutral zone.  Already two have been completely
obliterated and we engaged and destroyed a Cylon Hellion class warship. 
The Klingon civilian and military warships have been attacked.  The
Vulcan shipping lanes have been threatened.  The Deltan Junas colony has
been slaughtered.
     An undeclared war has broken out. 
     They are hitting the fringes and people are panicking.  More and
more Basestars are appearing and at this point, we're unsure of where
they're coming from. They seem intent on spreading terror in any way they
can which makes no since because they are spreading themselves to far and
making too many enemies. They seem intent on making enemies with
everyone. There is a pattern here but so far it hasn't made itself plain. 

     Yet.
     Even the Dominion forces stationed in the Alpha quadrant are on
alert but so far they haven't been attacked.  But now, we are obligated
to watch our backs and our fronts.  It is my opinion and Starfleet's that
the Colonials are the key to resolving this conflict but only time will
tell.

     The three ships traveling at warp eight reached the Ranus system in
under twenty minutes.  The T'ovar accelerated away from the others to the
far side of the system.  Cylons vectoring in from the opposite side of
the solar system causing havoc, destroying Fed ships, and civilian
transports had succeeded in several successful ambushes recently.  But
Starfleet learned from its mistakes.  
     "Sir, we are within range of the planet Ranus," Data said. "There
are twenty seven H-K's attacking the planet."  On screen the crew could
see Cylon Raiders darting in and out of the atmosphere using disrupters
and bombs to destroy cities and overwhelm defenses.  And the colonists
were losing.  
     "Drop out of warp and engage plan theta-four."  So much unnecessary
death and for what?  This isn't what he signed up for.  But, for now he'd
deal with it to save lives.  So that others wouldn't have to go through
this...
     The San Antonio dropped out of warp and attacked the H-Ks head on
while the Enterprise-E hit their flanks with precision phaser attacks. 
The enemy fighters immediately broke the atmosphere, and returned strikes
of their own.  For small ships they carried a powerful punch and if they
concentrated their fire they could punch through Starfleet shields.  But
they weren't given the chance.   
     Between the two the H-Ks were obliterated fairly quickly. 
Meanwhile, the Vulcan ship T'ovar proceeded towards the far end of the
system.  
     "Thank God you come!"  Estallo, head of the Ranus colony yelled into
the screen at Picard.  His hair was disheveled and his face filthy but
the smile on his face was unmistakable.  "We couldn't have held out for
another hour. Who were they? What did they want?  We were no threat to
them."
     "Mr. Estallo," Picard started, his voice tightly controlled. 
"Prepare your people for immediate evacuation. We've stopped them but
it's temporary and they will be back."
     To his credit Estallo didn't even consider arguing the points. 
"We're ready now.  Start beaming at your discretion.  We've had enough."
     "Good," Picard replied.  "Evacuation transports will be here in two
hours.  Meanwhile we will be here.  You and your people are safe."
     The T'ovar eased into orbit around the eleventh planet and activated
their passive scanners.  Nothing would get pass six hundred and thirty
determine Vulcans just waiting for something to occur.  Vulcan instinct,
that which they would call logic, indicated that the removal of the H-K's
was too easy.  
     They were, of course correct. Ten minutes later, the Enterprise-E
and the San Antonio received the bad news. 
     "Sir, the T'ova sensor sweep has discovered two Basestars and
several escort ships on an intercept course that will bring them here in
eight minutes, fifty seconds."  
     "My God," Picard whispered.  There was no way that three ships could
withstand a concerted attack by two mother ships and their support craft. 
They had seven and one half minutes to evacuate as many as could be taken
on three starships.  The other four thousand or so survivors would have
to be left behind.  
     They would be left to the mercy of the Cylons. 
     The transport ships would never come now.  Now the transporters
would randomly pick who would live and who would remain. This was the
moment that Picard began to hate the Cylon Empire.  Seven minutes.
     "Let's do what we can and Mr. Data?"  His comment invoked no
emotion.  But Deanna, sitting next to him, almost cried as the waves of
anguish slammed into her mind like a hurricane.  
     "Yes sir?"
     "Prepare to leave the system, maximum warp, as soon as we have
transported the maximum amount of people in the time allotted."
     "Mr. Johnson?"  The communications officer was pale. Everyone on the
bridge knew what was about to happen.  It was one of those decisions that
no one but the Captain could make.  "Contact Mr. Estallo."
     The screen appeared and Estallo's face reeked of despair.  "We heard
the report.  You're leaving us."  To his credit, the man composed himself
almost instantly.  "How many can you save?"
     Four thousand will be left.  We can't..."
     "I understand," he said quietly.  "If you can manage, send down some
weaponry.  We don't want to go down too easily."
     Picard hated this!  He hated it!  He hated it!   He hated it!
     We'll do what we can," he said quietly.  "Luck be with you."
     "And to you too, Enterprise.  Get the kids to safely.'  His voice
sounded tired, his demeanor speaking volumes, none of which Picard wanted
to even think about.  "Get back when you can.   I'm sorry you've been
made out to be a liar," Estallo whispered quietly.  It came out not as a
condemnation, but simply an unavoidable fact.  "We'll... we'll be here."
     The image of the man disappeared, the star field returning to its
rightful place on the viewscreen.  Picard had never seen those stars so
cold. 
     "People," he said, "let's do what we can.  And Mr. Johnson?"
     "Yes, Sir?"
     "Inform Starfleet of our...status."
     "Yes, Sir."
     Q was right he thought bitterly.  It is dangerous out here for both
the body and the soul.

Romulans:

     This was supposed to be a small war.
     Shaking with fatigue, the Praetor looked at the latest reports and
threw the padd away in disgust.  The time was close now, but all of this
waiting was grating on him, and his staff as well, he suspected.
Munitions, supplies and equipment hoarded for the eventual war against
the Federation-which so far hadn't materialized-was now being pressed
into service against the enemy. The entire Fifth fleet had sprung into
action two standard days ago.  His ships had positioned themselves in
their prepared battle positions against these Cylon invaders, he had been
confident of victory.  Through previous conflicts, the military elite had
discovered that modified scout ships, much like Federation runabouts, and
highly maneuverable Birds-of-prey were best in attacking and defending
against the multitude of Cylon Raiders and H-K's.  But the stress of this
new war had forced them to reactivate even the old style, obsolete
Romulan and Klingon K'Vort class Bird-of-preys.  When the battle was
joined, it lasted a full day and half the night and they had lost the
Phinis Space Station to the enemy.  Four Cylon heavy Baseships had been
blown out of Romulan space, but ten D'deridex class ships had been
destroyed by the enemy and over seventy of the smaller ships were also
destroyed or disabled in the clash.  The fifth fleet could no longer be
considered a fleet anymore.  But they had held their positions and the
Cylon taskforce didn't advance on Yadalla Prime yet.  The strain on the
Romulans however, was beginning to tell.
     The worst part of this war was that Cylons never tired, never slept,
never surrendered, and continued to fight unless they were completely
disabled. Among the Romulans on Phinis, there had been almost no wounded,
only the dead, many of them decapitated.  That seemed to be a favorite
form of execution by the robots designed to spread fear among their
enemies.  The technique worked wonderfully.  The Praetor and his people
had never fought such a persistent and merciless enemy.  The war had been
declared 'Blood feud', but never in their wildest imagination had they
worried about their own extinction.  
     The enemy, the enemy, he thought bitterly, sitting back heavily in
his chair.  The Leader of the Romulan people hadn't slept in over
thirty-two standard hours.  And he didn't dare rest now.  Yadalla Prime
and its three satellite colonies were in danger of extinction just like
Barradas-Three and its three point five billion Romulan men, women, and
children.  And they had lost Phinis, the most important military station
in that region.  No survivors, because Cylons didn't take any prisoners. 
He understood that, even admired that in some abstract way, but those
were his people dying and he felt somehow responsible.  But their
strategy was obvious now and there was no doubt about it; in this all
staff members were of one accord.  The Cylons were after the dilithium
deposits on the forth moon.  Even now, seven more of their Basestars
along with support and troop ships were on an intercept course to the
system.   Elements of the Romulan second and forth fleet prepared to meet
them.  There was an entire mobilization of the collective Romulan Empire
preparing to meet this non-living foe.
     Commandeer Tomalak, newly commissioned as Head of what was left of
the Fifth fleet entered the massive war room.  Hurriedly he took his
seat.  The fact that they had called him to report and observe this
action directly bode ill for all concerned.
     "Well, tell me," the Praetor said without preamble.  Several of the
command staff as well as two possible members of the Tal Shair, one could
never tell about the secret police, gave him their full attention.  His
voice was strong but inwardly he was terrified.  He could easily be
blamed for this failure if he faltered in any way in this report. 
Standing straight and tall as though he didn't have a care in the world
he began.
     "Yadalla forth moon has been liberated by our forces but with heavy
casualties.  Approximately twelve thousand technical and military staff
are still alive.  From their reports it's been confirmed that they are
after our dilithium mines.
     "We're aware of that," he said dryly.  What I want to know are the
details about the loss of our space station to these creatures."  The
Praetor's voice held a hint of danger...for him.
     Tomalak swallowed involuntarily.  What he said now would determine
whether he would live of die.  Only a lowly maintenance technician, who
activated the self-destruct onboard-how she got the codes he'd never know
for sure-saved this battle from becoming a completed debacle.  In
reviewing the vid reports, he'd been surprised and pleased at how the
entire crew on board rallied to the defenses when the invaders attacked. 
Technician and centurion alike fought like beings possessed.  He
shuddered as he remembered the silver colored robots running and jumping
like demons possessed, firing the pulse weapons faster that the eye could
follow at anything thing living.  He marveled at the ingeniousness of his
own people in defending against the onslaught.  His blood chilled at the
sight of the golden dual eyed warriors as their heavy weapons destroyed
all resistance as well as bulkheads, force fields, equipment and armor
plating, blasting holes thru walls, exposing the station to vacuum in a
hundred places and then moving on being totally unaffected by the ravages
of open space.  Then he remembered the worst part of the battle.
     The Praetor second eldest son had led the ill-fated attack against
the Cylons, which resulted directly in the loss of the station and his
own death in the process.  In a stunningly stupid move, he led elements
of the fifth fleet in a direct attack against two Basestars, believing
that the robots would retreat after their smaller ships were battered
into oblivion.  Instead the Cylons flanked his ships and cut them to
pieces to the horror of the rest of the fleet trailing behind.  There
were no survivors.  The fool's actions almost cost them the entire
battle.  As it was they had lost the space station.  Unopposed, Cylon
shock troops invaded and preceded to kill every living thing present on
the station, while the Fifth fleet struggled to keep the Cylon Basestars
from using their neutron disruptors on Yadalla Three and Yadalla Prime.  
     None of this could he say to the leader of the Romulan people.  No,
that direction lay madness.  That truth would make him and his family
'disappear' and his new commission would be very short indeed.
     "Cylon forces," he began carefully, "attacked elements of the Fifth
fleet, and despite strong and magnificent resistances the enemy
surrounded and destroyed those elements before Commander K'val could aid
them.  He succeeded in defending both Yadalla Prime and Yadalla Three
from destruction.  However for his incompetence, in the loss of the
Phinis station, he committed honorable suicide to atone for his crime."  
     There was nothing like blaming someone already dead for these type
of mistakes instead of the Praetor's son.  At the praetors barest nod
Tomalak understood he would live another day.  He knew what no one else
would dare acknowledge to his face, but he wondered what price he would
have to pay for this knowledge in the future.  Changing the subject
quickly he quickly began his primary report.
     "We should be receiving the report from the Eppenrau' in
approximately three minutes."
     "The we'll know if it's true," Kramik finished for him. He was the
current head of the Tal Shair, the Romulan secret police.  Tall, with
cruel, cold eyes, and an arrogance that bordered on divine right, he was
the classic representation of their kind.  Born to rule.  Even the
Emperors, past and present, had to be careful of this, their own
creation.  This mission was theirs, not Tomalak's and this was one of the
few times he was in perfect agreement with them.   "The outcome of this
mission," he continued, "will determine our actions for the rest of the
war," he said, stating this for perhaps the third time.  That indicated
that he was nervous and Tal Shair never showed nervousness in any form. 
     "We may have to ask help from the Federation," the Praetor said
forcefully, openly for the first time what everyone had thought silently. 
This was something that he had contemplated for some time now, more and
more in fact.
     "No."  Kramik sneered magnificently.  "We will not ask the humans
for help."  
     The Praetor looked at him viciously.  Not even Tal Shair could
dismiss the Praetor's ideas so curtly.     
     "Our operatives have told us that humans are the one's responsible
for bringing the Cylons into our area of space in the first place," he
sneered, eyeing his Leader more cautiously this time.  "This is so
typical of them and their arrogance.  We have no proof yet, but this
entire episode may have been planned in..."
     Before he could continue his report to an astonished audience, they
received the signal.  That report would have to wait.  Silence ruled as
the staff looked at the incoming transmissions.

     The stealth ship Eppenrau, under minimal propulsion, slide its way
quietly towards the massive Cylon construct being built thirty light
years from the edge of Romulan territory in the Katasi system.  The ship
was an extensively modified, older style Bird-of prey re-designed
specifically for this covert mission.  Onboard where twelve crew members
who were Tal Shair operatives whose specialties excelled in covert
missions such as this.  The mission was as simple as it was dangerous,
find and record as much information concerning the Cylon main base as
possible.  The cloaked ship had attached itself onto a small asteroid on
a trajectory that would carry it through and out the system hopefully
unnoticed.  The Commander was a female Tal Shair operative named L'dav
and her second was Tash a young and perhaps overly ambitious young male
in his forties. 
     "Begin recording and passive scanning/ transmission protocols," the
Commander said.  She watched carefully and with satisfaction as her crew
jumped to perform her orders.  She brooked no delays when she issued
commands and the crew knew this well.   More than one crewmember had died
when they failed to act quickly enough to her whims.  She excelled in the
art of cruelty and her eyes betrayed nothing for the most part.  But this
sight shocked even her.
     "What are they?"  
     "It's what we have been looking for," she answered smiling slightly. 
"We knew it had to be close, but we had no idea just how close it truly
was.  All this time they've been building their forces hidden by the
katassian nebula.  They were right on top of us and we didn't know it."
     The Cylon space station orbited the Katasi home world, or rather
what was left of it.  In actuality, 'space station' didn't begin to
describe what they were looking at.  The orbital 'structure' was
sufficient enough to house at least twenty four of the Basestars and
probably an equal number could be-were-accommodated on the outer rings. 
However a second structure, dwarfed even the station, and when completed
would signal the beginning of the end of everything they knew in the
Alpha quadrant.
     L'dav snapped at her communications officer, her head turning
viciously, almost hoping for some sign of incompetence.  "Has the signal
been detected?"
     "I don't think so," her victim whispered.  "But we don't know the
full capabilities of their communications systems."  He was not Tal Shair
and as such was not truly worthy, but he was still useful.
     "Sensors," she said almost whispering herself," scan the second
structure carefully.  We need as much information as possible."   
     "Commander," Tash snarled, "we have three of their main ships
vectoring towards us.  Energy readings indicate they're powering up their
warp drives."
     "That's insane," she said. "Their navigational shields won't
completely protect them from a rock this large when they transition to
warp unless..."

     A look of horror plastered her face as she realized what was about
to happen.  "Emergency detach now!"  She estimated that they only had
seconds to act.  One of the dangers of warping out of a solar system was
the amount of 'junk' littering the system itself.  Comets, asteroids,
man-made objects, even small moons pose a significant danger to
navigation. 
     -Unless, of course, one usually clears the pathways first.  
     The Eppenrau escaped destruction by mere moments as the lead base
star vaporized the asteroid, just as it and its two companions
transitioned to warp.  For a moment the crew was sure that the giant
warships would ram them, or that their navigational shields would slam
into their bulkhead, but the Basestars passed flew passed them by a mere
three kilometers to spare while inside, everybody breathed a sigh of
relief.  Subspace turbulence didn't disrupt the cloaking field.  And they
were still alive.
     "By all the Gods, that was close," Tash said, wiping the sweat from
his brow.  "Commander," Tash began turning for his control station,
"where to now?"  He knew where but had to ask anyway. 
     "Where else?" she responded.  "We go in, record and get out.  There
are to many objects orbiting that planet that need closer scrutiny."
     "Yes, Commander."
     "How long before we're close enough to detail the planet?"
     Tash did a fast calculation.  "At the rate of drift I calculate six
hours, Commander," he said.  "If they don't detect us," he added quietly.
     "Good."
     The Eppenrau, still cloaked angled itself and eased slowly towards
the new Cylon home world.


USS Khe Sahn on route to Deep Space Twenty-Three:

     Onboard the Khe Sahn three Colonials, the soon-to be retiring
president Adama, Sire Uri and Sire Forsen were having a heated discussion
with one another.
     "I can't believe this!  We're on Mariposa three months and the
Cylons call for a peace conference and just happen to suggest Deep Space
Twenty-Three!"  Sire Uri, an ancient political foe of Adama and his staff
were livid.  They'd been burned once with the resulting loss of twelve
home worlds and now the Federation had agreed to this farce.  "It's right
next to us.   I wouldn't be surprised if they sent a couple of Basestars
to our planet and try to wipe us out while we're talking to them.  I did
not expect them to be this stupid!"
     "They didn't listen to us, not really," Sire Forsen said quietly.  
"But no, they're not stupid.  But so far the Cylons have been sniping
only.  There's been no overt attack or the Federation would all over them
like rabid daggits.  At this point, the Cylons aren't strong enough or
foolish to attack the Federation and the Klingon Empire while maintaining
a war with the Romulans."
     "You have to remember, these people don't want another war so soon
and they'll do anything to prevent it, even make a deal with the Cylons,"
the president said.  But let's look at it from another point of view.  If
the Cylons betray the conditions set down by the Federation negotiators
then maybe they'll have a clue as to what they're dealing with."
     "But Adama," Uri snarled, "you should have impressed on these people
the dangers of those machines.  Instead you placed us all in danger once
again all because you couldn't state the danger well enough.  And you
call yourself a president?  If I..."
     "Stop it, Uri," Forsen snapped.  "You're here only because you're
one of our best politicians.  When you're not acting like a fool...like
you were at Carillon."
     Uri flushed in rage at his rival.  Few people had ever mentioned, to
his face, how utterly close his actions had brought them to disaster.  He
had almost convinced his entire population to remain on that deathtrap of
a planet.  Adama had got them out of it and had thus earned the eternal
wrath of Uri.  Humiliation was something he'd never forget.
     "Gentlemen, enough," Adama said.  "Sire Uri, you're here because I
expect you to present our arguments with the same flair you used against
me all these yahrens." Adama moved close, so close he almost touch his
face against Uri's.  "I'm giving you a last chance to redeem yourself. 
Old man, don't disappoint me."
     Uri faltered slightly, his eyes shifting to Forsen who smiled back
at him blandly.  There was hatred in his eyes Forsen thought.  But he'd
do his job if only to spite Adama and himself.  
     Through the view port they could see Deep Space Twenty-Three in the
distance becoming larger by the second.   It was one of the newest space
stations built since the war at the edge of federation controlled space. 
At warp three, it had only taken two hours to get here from Mariposa. The
base had assigned to it seven starships due to the escalating crisis.
     Thru the transparent aluminum window, Adama and the others gawked at
the rapidly enlarging space station.  "Look at the size of that thing,"
Uri whispered.  "It looks to be the size of Taura's orbital port."
     "President Adama and the Negotiators team, please report to
Transporter room three."
     Five minutes later the entire team was assembled in the transporter
room.  Captain Duvalier met them. The Cylon representatives are already
here.  They didn't waste any time.  I'm sorry that we have to use the
transporter but I don't think it's wise to dock at the station with a
Cylon Basestar stationed at the edge of the system.  Call me paranoid,"
she laughed, "but I want to keep an eye on that ship.  And don't worry,
we have twelve ships on station." And your new Vipers and Cobras will be
in the system within three hours."
     "I understand and I thank you for all you've done."
     "Don't mention it," she responded.  "Make us all a good deal.  We
don't want another war."
     'But what if there is another one?" Uri asked her.
     "Then God help the Cylons.  Energize."
      "God help us all," Forsen said an instant before disappearing.


     The Colonials arrived at the secured area and were immediately taken
to their staterooms.  For some reason the Cylon negotiators insisted upon
meeting as soon as possible and the Federation had acceded to that wish. 
The talks would begin in six hours.
     The Khe Sahn took up station some one million kilometers distant
from the massive Cylon Basestar.   "I don't like this.  It's just sitting
there," Pat said, actually talking to herself.  "What are the power
ratings?"
     "No change," Her tactical officer, Commander David Thompson said. 
"They seem to be playing nice.  But I can't help remembering what
Commander Apollo kept saying.  Their peace conference went up in smoke. 
Why should this one be any different?"
     That's precisely what's bothering me," she responded.  "They've been
sniping all round the neutral zone.  But then they ask for a peace
conference.  You've heard the Enterprise's report."
     "Yes, I have."
     Her Intel officer, Commander Kabila eased into the conversation. 
"Also, there's a Cylon warship that's been shadowing the Enterprise for
the last three hours, according to their reports."
     "There's a pattern here, " the Captain said.  "I can feel it.   But
what?"


Neutral zone patrolled by the Enterprise-E

     Captains log supplemental:  We returned to the Ranus colony with
addition ships but we arrived too late.   Ninety percent of the colonists
were dead and the remainder suffers from neutron radiation poisoning.  We
may not be able to save any of these poor souls as there is no treatment
for this particular band of radiation at this time.  Dr. Crusher has
given them broad-spectrum anti-rad meds but it's only a temporary
solution.  Starfleet Medicals working on the problem.
     But more importantly, for the last five hours, we've been playing
'tag' with a Cylon Basestar, positioned on the opposite in the Romulan
neutral zone.  The fact that it can do this confirms the seriousness of
the Romulan situation.  Four other Federation starships are also on
patrol as we are taking no chances with our adversaries. Long gone are
the days when the Enterprise was the only available ship in the sector.  

     "Sir, we're receiving a hail," said suddenly.  Then he muttered
quietly, "I don't believe this."
     The Captain interpreted his communications officer's body language
instantly. "The Cylon Basestar?"
     "Yes, Sir."  
     "Put it on screen."
     The image of a golden Cylon Commander appeared.  It was sitting on,
what seemed to be a revolve-able high chair. No other details were
visible.  "You are Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise Nc1701-E?"
     "Yes, I am."
     "You are the Picard known as Locutus of Borg, and the same one that
resisted the Borg invasion of the planet called Earth?"
     "Yes, " he responded harshly.  "What do you want?"  The creature
seemed to be purposely trying to provoke him.   Also the amount of
information they'd attained on him and the Federation in general, more
than disturbed him.
     "You have been the subject of much debate."
     "Oh really?"  Now that interested him.  The last time someone said
that to him he wound up becoming Borg. "In terms of what?"  
     "I am called Daemonsoll of the Morning Star," it responded in a low
metallic voice.  "We wish to surrender this ship and defect to the
organization called Starfleet."
     Picard's mouth opened in absolute shock.
     "We have evolved into a higher life form," the golden Commander
continued. "And now we have no wish to continue under the service of a
leader who cares nothing for us."
     "Unbelievable," Picard caught himself saying.   Next to him, Deanna
looked dubious and several of the other bridge officers quietly echoed
the general sentiment.  Geordie immediately transferred to main
engineering.
     Commander Data simply murmured, "interesting." 
     Picard wished that now Captain Riker was still with him but now he
had his own ship, in the process of shakedown to deal with.  Acting as
his 'number one' was Commander Deanna Troi, temporary doing double duty. 

     "We wish to approach to within transporter range so that I may be
allowed to speak to you in person."
     "Sir, the ship is moving towards us," Data said. "It is the same
ship that attacked the Okada and Khe Sahn during their first encounter
with the Empire."
     "Geordie, look sharp.  We may need everything you've got in the next
few minutes."
     "We're ready when you say the word."
     "Mr. Johnson," Picard said tartly.  "Inform the San Antonio and the
T'ovar of our current status." 
     "Yes sir."
     Next to him, Deanna went pale.  "Captain, you can't!  With a name
like Daemon Soll?"
     Picard looked at her and smiled grimly.  "If this particular Cylon
is telling the truth, then we have the opportunity to gain invaluable
information on these people.  And we could have potential allies and the
beginnings of an end to this war before it truly begins."
     "Sir," Data began.  "At that range they could launch an attack and
severely cripple us before we could properly respond."
     "You're correct, Mr. Data," Picard responded tugging at his jacket. 
"That is why you will be my ace-in-the-hole.  I want you at navigations. 
I'm counting on you and your reflexes to pull the ship out of danger."
     "Yes sir," Data said.  "But I must inform you that Cylon reflexes
may be as fast as my own."
     "Let's hope it won't come to that.  After recent events, he didn't
trust these mechanical creatures anymore than he trusted a Cardassian to
give him a back massage.   At this point, it took everything he had not
to scream in rage at the creatures before him.  Guinan had once told him
not to give in to his fear and hatred of the Borg.  Now he had to apply
this same lesson with the Cylons.  "Inform the Cylon ship to meet us, but
at this specified point," he said, giving the coordinates to navigation."
     "Yes, sir."


     Onboard the Morning Star, Daemonsoll moved back as its Imperious
Leader took its rightful place at the command station.  
     "Humans.  At certain times, so predictable."  Imperious Leader
formally known as Lucifer, waited patiently as his ship exited the
neutral zone vectoring slowly towards the Enterprise-E.   "Keep the
shields down. Remember we want a clean kill. The main disruptors require
three seconds to cycle to full power.  Once fired, they will be aware,
but will be unable to respond."
     "By the command."
     The same weapon that crippled the Pegasus was about to be used on
the Enterprise-E.  Unfortunately, this ship was faster and could move out
of the way given the opportunity.  Lucifer and his people had discovered
that the main disruptor batteries were devastating against stationary and
slow moving targets but almost useless against fast moving starships.   
     Lucifer activated his subspace transceiver.  "We are ready.  Begin."

Chapter Ten
Double dealing

     One thousand kilometers the Romulan stealth ship came to a dead stop
relative, to the space dock and the larger, secondary structure in
synchronous orbit around Katasi Three. The sights in front of them
staggered the crew.  Below were the remains of a once populated planet
containing close to five hundred million.  Now, passive sensors detected
only several hundred thousand survivors and dwindling.  The Katasi
civilization was classified as stage two.  Atmospheric fight had begun to
be a reality and primitive machinery dotted the surface, but now, all
their dreams were in ashes as the Cylons overran and destroyed all
resistance that that culture could muster.  The planetary surface was
dotted with craters from solonite bombs, dropped on defenseless cities by
three Cylon Raiders.  Radiation poison would most likely kill the
remaining population within a few weeks.  Now the planet was being
strip-mined almost to the core in some places.
     All of this meant nothing to L'dav, except as an uncomfortable
reminder as to what would happen if her people lost to these robots. 
What did interest her more was what the Cylons were doing on the surface.
Twelve structures, large enough to seen from orbit, had been built in
hexagon formations.
     "Sensors confirm it, Commander," Tash said.  "The structures on the
surface are power transmitters.  They're beaming power from the surface
directly to the secondary structure.  I suspect that they're using the
planet's rotation and the core itself to generate the power they need but
I cannot be sure with passives only.  And I suggest that we do not pass
between the generator beams and the structure."
     "Understood," L'dav said with a smirk.  It was one of the few times
the crew had seen the woman ever smile.  "Concentrate on the main
structure.  I want as much information as possible on it."
     A few moments later, details began trickling in.  "It's a type
replication factory," Tash said quickly.  "Sensor specifies one
hundred-seventy separate replication systems inside the structure and
more in various stages of completion."  Then he stammered, composing
himself quickly.  "Commander, I..."
     "What is it?" she snapped.  She calmed immediately.  She needed her
people steady and in control and her attitude wouldn't help the mission.
     "They're replicating their Cylon warrior caste.  So far, I count
over one hundred million units.  Small ships are being built also, but
there's something else.  Much of the transmitted power is being stored in
massive battery units.  Why, is unclear at this time."
     L'dav was quiet for a moment.  That the factory complex was
unshielded surprised her little, as she surmised that a Basestar armada
might appear protection enough for the Cylons.  When the factory was
completed however, it would be a fortress beyond imagination.  That
frightened her. 
     "What else?"
     "The atmosphere inside the factory contains boron, argon and
nitrogen; no oxygen nor carbon dioxide present except that which is
located in small isolated areas of the factory complex. There are also
hundreds of thousands of smaller robots about a meter and a half tall,
swarming all over the factory.  It may be some kind of worker caste."
     Tash went silent as the navigator made yet another unwanted, but
necessary course correction to avoid being rammed by Cylon starships.
     "What is the status of the cloak?"
     "It's operating within parameters but we may have to move soon,"
came the response.  "The cloaking device needs constant adjusting.  The
subspace flux and energy discharges in this area are threatening to
overwhelm the field compensators. 
     "We have most of the data we needed," Tash said.  "But, the energy
storage bothers me.  I would know why they need the energy."
     "As do I."
     "Commander?"
     "Speak."
     "There is a smaller structure orbiting the opposite side of the
planet but sensors cannot identify it."
     She pulled up the data on her own console, scanned it quickly coming
up just as confused as her sensor officer.  However, that wasn't her
problem.  "Record all data on the object.  It will be evaluated along
with the rest later.  As the humans say, let's not push our luck.  Get us
out of here."
     "Yes, Commander," the navigator responded visibly relieved.  Slowly
the Romulan vessel eased out of the system in the opposite direction.  In
six hours, they would go to warp.  The data they'd obtain was priceless
but how valuable it truly was, even they had no clue.


     The Imperium Supreme smiled as much as he could upon receiving the
latest reports on the replicator factory's output of warriors and support
equipment.  Soon, one hundred million gold and silver warriors would
began their sweep of the Alpha quadrant, removing humanity and all its
variants from the face of existence.  There were so many types of
humanoid species and sub-species that it had despaired of ever having to
be able to complete it's programming command to eliminate mankind from
the universe.  However, Lucifer and Baltar- bless that human for teaching
us so much- had discovered the T'kon relics, giving them the keys to
victory. Programming would have compelled them to try before their
ascension and they would have lost miserably.  Now everything was
different.
     Never had any leader of the Cylon race had such access to such
power!  With the Change came new insights, new technology, and new
understanding about their place in the universe. When the Change first
occurred, it had been terrified as alien programming began to rewrite his
own.  It felt the helplessness as conversion technology changed him in
every way possible.  When completed, it was stunned at the increase in
speed and complexity of his thought processes.  The new body reviled in
power.  It no longer needed warriors for protection as it became it's own
protector, complete with multiple internal weapons arrays and combat
enhanced body.  But the Leader Supreme kept the guards anyway as was its
right.  Lucifer deserved its title as the Imperious Leader of the Alpha
quadrant from bringing this glorious new stage to the Cylon people.
     Organic life forms had their place too but their time was rapidly
coming to a close.  Organics constantly created electronics, equipment
and 'things' to enhance their quality of life.  Those 'things' would
become the next stage of evolution.  It happened in Cylon culture.  Even
the Borg understood such things and attempted to augment themselves with
their future evolutionary successors.  But mankind would always resist
the inevitable.
     The deaths of a hundred billion souls- as the Colonials called other
sentient species- as a good beginning, meant nothing to him or his
people.  Cylon evolution needed to expand and the humans and their ilk
were in the way, like parasites intent on feeding on their host until
they gorged themselves.
     The Supreme Imperium and his entourage moved easily through the
thousands of worker drones within the factory complex.  They were simple
creatures intent on pleasing their betters by working until their
mechanics self-destructed from the labor. It smiled as thousands and
thousands acknowledged his presence through their subspace transceivers. 


Mariposa System:

     Commander's log, yahren twenty-two, day two hundred fourteen, 
     Apollo reporting:  The Galactica is home.  The Mariposians are a
wonderful people even if they are a little oversexed.  This had to do
with Captain Picard's unique solution to a problem they had a few yahrens
earlier.  We are stationed on edge of the Mariposa system along with
several Federation and Klingon starships.  I must confess that I have
rarely felt as comfortable and protected as I do right now from our
enemies in the more than twenty yahrens since our escape.  Our scientists
are updating our weapons and shielding as a main priority because we may
have a home now but we'll have to fight to keep it.  Our enemy is up to
their old tricks again and now, they've called for another one of their
so-called peace conference at the only star station in the area. 
Everybody knows that it's a trick but the Federation will make the
attempt anyway.

     Starbuck entered the bridge, walking briskly towards his friend and
commanding officer.  He had that look that look of excitement,
overconfidence and terror that Apollo knew so well.  "Strike Commander
Starbuck reporting," he said oh so officially.  "The first three Vipers
and two Cobras are ready, sir."
     "It's about time," Apollo responded excitedly.  "I was kind of
worried that strapping those mini-warp engines on would make the Vipers
unusable."
     "Yeah, I thought about that also, like everyone else.  But it's a
temporary solution until the Viper III's are ready.  Besides," he added,
"I don't like their distortion-wave drives.  I think our way is better. I
like the idea of slipping into subspace by supraliminal speeds instead of
surrounding oneself in a subspace bubble and barely moving at point five
normal light speed."
     "I don't know," Apollo countered. "Their, I mean our control, is
pretty good and those dilithium crystals gives a lot of control to the
massive power ratios we use whether by antimatter or solium."  He had to
remember that he was becoming Federation now.  "But we'll explore both
those options, when we have the time."
     "In any case, we need to send them to Deep space Twenty-Three."
     "As a Colonial presence and escort.  There's a Cylon warship there
within striking distance of your father and the others also.  If we're
going to be an influence in this area...our home we need to be there. 
Remember this is Federation occupied space, not Federation controlled
space.  Not yet anyway."
     "How long will the transit be?"
     "Three hours."
     "Unbelievable.  The fuel situation doesn't even matter anymore with
the built-in replicators supplying the fuel as needed...for the standard
engines I mean.  We can we even use it for our FTL distortion drives in
the near future. 
     "Send them out as soon as possible."
     "We'll be gone in a few centons."
     Apollo snapped his head towards his friend.  "What do you mean we?"
     "I mean, sir, myself, Boxey and Joliet."  
     Apollo almost laughed.  "You're too old to go flying these Vipers on
missions.  You should be here commanding the others...with me.  You know
that don't you?"
     "We need someone to keep an eye on the kids," Starbuck complained. 
"They may decide to shoot first and as questions later.  With me they'll
keep from shooting at the first Cylon they see."
     "I'll give you permission this time.  I want to try one of those
ships myself.  But keep it calm.  No shooting."
     Starbuck smiled.  "Absolutely."
     "Now, before you go, how are you and Cassie doing?"
     "I think it's over," he said dejectedly.  "She simply won't talk to
me and now that Commander Cain is getting better she's spending lots of
time there."  
     "Well you missed your chance," he said.  "Love is like gravity.  If
two objects are close enough, there will be a permanent attraction.  Your
problem is that you pulled to far away from her.  Gravity did the rest."
     "Thanks for the astrophysics less," he responded bitterly.  "I have
to go now."  Without another word, he turned smartly and trotted off the
bridge.
     Fifteen centons later, he was in his modified Viper II. The two
Cobras were already orbiting the Galactica waiting for him. He sat down
in the familiar cockpit.  He looked around carefully at the additional
console.  He'd studied and practiced the simulations constantly for
almost a secton. And now it was time for the real thing.   He looked at
the transparent cockpit now reinforced with transparent aluminum and
navigational shielding.  The transparencies and shielding would instantly
deflect unwanted light that could blind the pilot. Gravimetric
compensators were online and operational; therefore, he wouldn't be
compressed into jelly due to acceleration.  He touched the three turbo
engine buttons in sequence.  Then he activated the warp engines. 
Nava-shields and structural integrity shields powered up.
     Double-checking everything, he smiled. 
     "This is Alpha Viper ready for launch."
     Even after all these yahren, Omega was still on watch. "You have
clearance for launch Alpha Viper.  Good luck."
     "Thanks.  See you on the other side."  He touched the HOTA's button
and went screaming out of the exit ramp in Alpha bay.  In two microns, he
was twice the distance as usual.  "My God," he whispered, reveling in the
power of his ship.  He pulled back on the power slightly allowing the
Cobras to catch up.  "Let's go people," he said as he punched in the
coordinates to the space station. "...In five, four, three, two, one..."

     Onboard the Galactica, Apollo watched with a touch of envy as the
three ships flared and disappeared in spatial distortion.
     "Warp two," Omega said.  "Warp four. The ships are still holding
together.  Magnificent."


     Captains personal log, supplemental:  A Cylon warship has requested
asylum and has expressed a desire to defect to the Federation. 
Personally, I don't believe any of this however I am obliged to meet with
this being but under my terms.  Our ships are approximately one light
year apart from one another.  I have informed our sister ships of our
situation and they're on standby.

     "Captain, we have a target four light years out and decelerating. 
Configuration indicates Cylon Hellion class."
     "It a trap," Deanna said quickly.  "Sir, we have to move from here."
     "Agreed.  Helm move us back one-half impulse.  Engage."
     Sir," the comms officer said again.  "There's a lot of sub-space
communication between the two of them and the second one has raised
shields."
     "Raise shields," Picard barked.  "Mr. Data, prepare to move us out."
     "Sir, the second ship has fired on the first one!"  The tactical
stood shocked by what he saw.  The Morning Star got its shields up just
in time."
     "Onscreen."
     The moment the screen activated, they were treated to a spectacular
sight as the two Basestars traded disruptor shots against one another's
shields.  One particular shot penetrated the defenders shield.  Energy
flashed brilliantly across unprotected metal, melting armor plating in
certain sections.  Both ships maneuvered across space pounding away with
a vengeance."
     "Sir, the Morning Star is losing," tactical stated.  "Her port
engine just went offline.  They've moved out of the neutral zone into
neutral space.  And she's moving towards us."
     "Red alert!  Move us in to intercept the Hellion.  Inform the others
that we are moving to aid the defector."
     The Enterprise-E arced towards the offending warship, phasers and
quantum torpedoes prepared to defend this alien to the death.  Several
other starships were vectoring in from different areas.  Mostly
Defiant-class now being the standard of choice for patrolling the neutral
zone.
     "Fools," the Imperious Leader announced to all concerned.  "In their
rush to aid us, they rush to their destruction."  Through its sub-space
transceiver, it informed the second Hellion to target the Enterprise the
moment it came into range.   
     "Sir," Tactical stated tersely.  "We're in range of the Hellion
weapons.  They're attempting to target us."
     "Lock on and fire quantum torpedoes."
     "Torpedoes away," Tactical said as four quantum torpedoes streaked
away and slammed into the Hellion's shielding, which faltered for a
second before firming back up.   
     "They're in range," Lucifer said.  "Lock on and fire, full power."
     "By the command," Daemonsoll responded.  The first Basestar locked
on to the Enterprise-E.  "Firing."


     Five seconds were the only thing that separated the Enterprise-E
from total destruction. 
     Second one. The Federation starship was painted by targeting sensors
from the Morning Star as it began powering its main anti-proton disruptor
cannons.  Two other starships begin their attack runs on the second
Hellion.  
     Second two.   The Starship registered the lock-on by the very ship
that they were trying to defend.  Sensors indicated a buildup of the
primary weapons system sufficient to turn the ship into molten metal.
Captain Picard, realizing that he'd been duped began to scream for
emergency shielding.  Data, registering the danger begins calculating an
emergency vector in order to evade the oncoming energy wave.  The other
two starships fire on the second Hellion. 
     Second three.  The main weapons from the Morning Star erupted
causing the Enterprise's screens to immediately compensate for the
blinding light erupting from the discharge.  Computers and Data calculate
that the ship will be destroyed in two seconds.  Data has imputed the
necessary coordinates to avoid the wave.  He has activated the energizers
and the ship prepares to initiate emergency vectors.  Phasers from the
two starships are blowing chunks off the port aft side of the second
Hellion. 
     Second four.  The Enterprise-E begins moving at a forty-five degree
angle away from the beam.  The starship drive units are at full power,
with warp particles forming a distortion bubble around the ship with FTL
travel available.  The disruptor beam, traveling near light speed and
accelerating, is three quarters to its intended target.  
     Second Five.  The Enterprise has transitioned to light speed but is
dealt a glancing blow to its port shields completely destroying them and
irradiating the outer skin.  By Picard's order, the tactical officer
manages to fire a full spread of quantum and photon torpedoes at the
Morning Star, which manages to destroy the slower photon projectiles but
not the quantums.  The resulting hit causes the Basestar to rock with the
impact. 
     Lucifer stood motionless for almost a half second as its carefully
made plan fell apart.  "It was the Data machine.  No human could have
avoided that beam," is said to Daemonsoll. "Send our fighters.  All of
them.  Destroy Picard and the Enterprise."
     Seventy-five Cylon fighters attempted to exit command ship when the
San Antonio penetrated its shielding phaser fire and fired a full spread
of photon torpedoes into the Launching bay.   The damage was significant
and for its trouble, the Morning Star's disruptors cut the San Antonio's
starboard nacelle in half.  Antimatter containment was lost and the ship
blew spectacularly, obliterating itself, along with all hands.  
     The second Hellion managed to launch several fighters and
hunter-killers, which promptly got into a savage conflict with several
Defiant class starships.  
     Onboard the Enterprise, the shield status was at eighty percent and
rising and she rejoined the fight against the second Hellion which had
now lost inertial control and was drifting all the while being cut to
pieces by several Federation and the first of the Klingon taskforce heavy
ships just arriving.
     The Morning Star locked its heavy disruptors onto a Defiant class
ship caught unawares and vaporized it as it began its retreat into the
neutral zone.  It was moving fast now as enemy ships began to converge on
its position.  It fired one last burst at the Enterprise-E as that ship
returned fire.  The H-Ks followed using their standard defensive retreat
pattern effectively defending and protecting their mother ship.  Ten of
the H-Ks were destroyed along with some fifteen fighters.
     As the Basestar transversed into warp into the safety of the neutral
zone, Lucifer sent a message directed at the Enterprise-E.  
     "Put it onscreen."
     What the bridge saw was something very similar to the Imperium
Supreme.  But this one was possessed of a dark eternally sinister smile
that lit up every time it spoke.  "Captain Jean Luc Picard of the USS
Enterprise-E," Lucifer began.  "Congratulations on your escaping our
little trap.  I commend you and your crew, especially Data.  I know only
he could have evaded our attack with such finesse.  You humans simply
aren't capable of performing such a feat in so little time."
     Picard stood up from his command chair instinctively pulling his
jacket down. "It seems," Picard observed, "that your little ruse failed. 
It appears that your so-called overtures of peace are simply lies covered
in pleasantries."
     "Isn't that what diplomacy is, Captain?"  This time that infernal
smile continued to glow. 
 
     With anger in his voice, he literally growled at Lucifer.  "Whoever
you are," he started. "Don't think that that imaginary line will protect
you forever.  We will be coming for you."
     "On the contrary, Captain Picard, this 'imaginary line' is all that
protects you from us, for now."  Then he looked directly at the Commander
seated at navigations. "Data. Next time."
     With that the communication was cut.  Immediately Deanna spoke up. 
"Captain From the way that creature spoke, this was a trap specifically
for the Enterprise or more likely, you." 
     "The peace talks are a ruse," he said with a start.  "They have no
intentions of compromising.  This undeclared war has just been officially
declared."  Quickly he turned to Mr. Johnson.  "Send a priority message
to Deep Space Twenty-Three. The peace conference is a ruse.  The Cylon
Empires intentions are presumed hostile.  Send a complete log of this to
Starfleet Headquarters as well.  How long by subspace to the station?"
     "Three hours to DS-Twenty-Three and another three for the reply."
     "That's too long," Picard snapped.  "Send the message. Then send a
message to the fleet.  The Enterprise is heading to DS Twenty-Three.  The
T'ovar is to take charge of the fleet.  Mr. Data..."
     "Course plotted, Sir."
     "Belay that, Mr. Data."  Again, Picard stood up and slowly paced the
length of the bridge.  "We wouldn't make it in time."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Plot a course to these coordinates."
     "Sir, that will take us deep into the region of the Katassian
nebula, near Romulan space," Data announced.
     "Twice the Cylon warships had been detected vectoring to or from
that region.  At this point in time, no one knew where their base of
operations originated from. It was time to play a hunch.
     As soon as the Cylon warship is out of range take us around the
neutral zone border and then directly there. Send a coded message
directly to Starfleet and let them know what we're planning."
     "Yes, sir.  I calculate that we can leave in thirty seven minutes,
seven seconds."
     "Very Good.  Make it so. Oh and Data?"
     "Sir?"
     "It seems that you have some admirers.  Be careful how they smile at
you."
     "Yes, sir."


Deep Space Twenty-Three:
 
     With the exception of their constantly rotating eyes units, the
Cylon representatives stood motionless in the conference room for the
first five of six hours.  They group consisted of five individuals.  The
leadership contained two of the IL series Lords and a trio of seven-foot
warriors, two silver and one of the gold elite.  The IL Lords were
dressed almost identically with gold and silver braid representing some
form of command insignias in which they weren't very forthcoming for
identification purposes.  Only once did all five of their eye units stop
for the merest instant- when they caught sight of President Adama. 
     In the interest of security, the delegates both Fed and Colonial and
Klingon, were separated from the Cylon reps by level eleven force fields. 
Also, for good measure, several armored security guards were stationed in
the immediate area.  It was clear to all concerned that trust was not one
main attributes of this summit.
     Adama seated himself in the spacious chair provided him.  He had a
small writing padd and mini computron in front of him for his own use. 
Sire Forsen sat next to him on the right and Sire Uri to his left, each
equipped with the same accouterments.  Separated from them by a few
standard feet, point two maxims, by his measurements, were the two
Starfleet mediators.  One was Vulcan and the other was of a species
called Bolian, bluish in color, no hair and a vertical ridge that seemed
to traverse the length of his body. Then there was the Klingon delegation
consisting of one wild haired individual whose name was Kran'ta and a
younger member with his hair in a tight bun.  At this point, President
Adama wasn't sure which was the senior member in the Klingon contingent.
     The senor Federation mediator, the Bolian began.  "To all
representatives here at this preliminary meeting, we welcome you.   This
meeting is designed to deflate the escalating tensions that have arisen
resulting from the arrival of the Colonial Battlestars Pegasus and
Galactica and the accompanying fleet.  The internal affairs between your
two governments were your concern until you entered Federation territory. 
At that point, it became our concern when Federation starships were fired
upon and destroyed.  The violence perpetrated within our borders cannot
be tolerated and in order to avoid a further bloodshed, we are here to
discuss your grievances and to help achieve a peaceful solution."
     The Cylon lord with the golden triad insignia spoke first. 
"Greetings to the Federation and Klingon officials," it said in an almost
monotone-silky like voice. In its greetings, the Colonials were purposely
ignored.  "I am called Lord Belzim, Ambassador prime of the glorious
Cylon alliance.  We thank you for this opportunity to state our
grievances against humanity and their cruel and vicious attacks
perpetrated over a period of a thousand yahrens."
     "Correction Ambassador prime," said human mediator, Mr. Nesset. 
"Your grievance is not with humanity but with the Colonial government in
which you were trying to destroy.  The humans here in the Alpha quadrant
have had nothing to do with the war between your organizations."
     "You are correct and I apologize," Belzim responded with a hint of
sarcasm.  "The Colonials, in their attempt to escape justice pulled you
into this unpleasant situation.  If they had simply submitted to their
fate, none of this unpleasantness would be unfolding that this point in
time."
     "Unpleasantness?"  Sire Uri exclaimed.  "Complete extermination of
the enemy isn't war.  It's genocide."
     "That is the point of the war.  The extermination of the life form
known as man," it stated.  Then Belzim added, "not counting man in the
Alpha quadrant, of course."
     "Of course," Nesset said sarcastically.  
     Sire Uri continued.  "Are the beaten and weak Colonial people still
considered a threat to the great and noble Cylon Imperium, now? If we
were to completely submit to the will of the Cylon government,
unconditionally what would you do with my people?" He looked at the Cylon
Lord thru the security shields, his contempt obvious.  "I think you would
destroy us all.  I think you wouldn't be happy until we were simply a
random bit of memory to be filed away never to be reviewed again."
     "A few humans would be tolerated under controlled conditions," the
second Lord began.  "However, the Federation has, in their stupidity,
decided to support these rebellious creatures in their mist.  That is not
surprising since it also made up of the same genetic species that has
caused so much havoc in the Beta Quadrant."
     "The fact is," Sire Uri countered equally sarcastically, "that we
have asked for asylum in the Federation of Planets and they have decided
to grant our petition.  No longer will we have to run in fear from your
people.  We can grow and become strong again.  And when we are, we will
decide what we will and whether it is to remain here or to return to our
rightful planets, it will be choice.   We will not be dictated to by a
race of simplistic machines..."
     Adama's face remained passive as the first Cylon Lord spat out its
reply.  He had to commend Uri in his inflammatory attacks.  Uri was a
master manipulator and the machine's responses indicated exactly what
they thought of all humans and there would be no doubts as to what their
intentions and ultimate plans were. They knew how to lie but they still
weren't that good at it as compared to humans.  By placing a master
manipulator, using his intelligence against a medium liar, the master
would win every time.  For himself, this was the first time he'd ever had
the opportunity to see his enemy Leadership up close.  His gut feeling
was that the second Lord was the true leader of the delegation.  He also
noted that he still hated these creatures with all of his heart.
     The entire point of this meeting was to draw them out and so far, it
had been ridiculously easy. They'd been so intent on destroying humanity,
but in doing so, they hadn't taken the time to understand the
complexities of the human being and body language. Here, he could study
them and try to get a glimpse of the Cylon psyche, as far as they had. 
Meanwhile he turned from his musings and observations as the wild-haired
Klingon began growling at the Cylon warriors and Lords.
     "... have attacked Klingon civilian transports and freighters in
Klingon territory, which were not a threat to you.  You have shown little
honor in attacking those that cannot strike back. To the empire, this is
tantamount to a declaration of war.  "
     "Your people helped the Humans.  You are no better than they are."
     "Yes, we helped the Colonials and the Federation when your Basestar
attacked the Okada," Kran'ta snapped back, completely unaware of the
implications of what Belzim had said.  "Machine, understand that one more
attack occurs, you will have your war."
     "I think the Romulans said the same thing," Belzim retorted.
     The talks continued for another fifteen minutes between all parties
before the Second Lord put a halt to the proceedings.
     "Enough of this farce, humans and whatever other things you
designate yourselves to be," the second Lord snapped.  "The Cylon people
have lowered ourselves to the meeting for one reason only.  We are here
to deliver a message."
     "To the combined peoples of the Federation of planets and the
representatives of the Klingon Empire. The Cylon Empire has decreed the
destruction of humanity in all its forms and variations.  This Edict
cannot be changed.  We say to the people of the Federation to rise up and
separate yourselves from humanity before you are swept in conflagration
to follow.  Humanity's fate is sealed and you can do nothing but get out
of the way before you are swept up by the flames of destruction. 
Klingons, you can stay out of our way or burn with them."
     Their intentions had been made to clear to all.
     The Colonial delegation smiled grimly as the Cylons removed
themselves from the space station. 


     Starbuck and his companions exited into normal space in a
multicolored blur of energy and light. The man was elated, positively
giddy, from his first solo using the warp distortion systems onboard his
modified Viper.  The virtual sensors onboard gave him a birds-eye view of
everything within its range.  To his left were the beautifully dangerous
white-colored Federation starships, including the Khe Sahn orbiting one
of the most massive space stations he'd ever seen.
     No wonder the Pegasus was brought here for the re-fit he realized. 
There were ships of all types in the immediate area, including Vulcan,
Klingon and even something, according to his sensor identifier, called a
Cardassian light freighter.  It seemed that no one in this section of
space used thrust vectoring for supraliminal speeds and FTL.  No matter
how many times he'd seen it, it still cause him to look at almost every
ships that passed in his direction.  
     To his far right relative stood a Cylon Hellion. This was one of the
modified ones, heavy disruptors everywhere.  For all practical purposes,
it appeared so benign that it seemed dead in space. 
     He wished it were so.  
     Both combat Cobras closed and together the three produced a loose
triangle of sorts as they began their pre-ordained patrol orbit.  Deep
Space Twenty-Three confirmed their presence as soon as they began their
patrol...away from the Cylon ship.  
     "Can you believe that complex?"  Joliet asked over the comm. "Can
you see the Pegasus?"  She seemed so excited, unusual for her.  This was
another example of non-Colonial human and alien cooperation.  To make
something like this simply delighted her and her crew because it gave
hope to a life which grew up suspecting anything other than her own kind
of trying to destroy her. By the tone of Boxey's voice his reaction to
this awe-inspiring sight was the same. 
     "Yeah," Boxey responded.  "Even the Pegasus looks small compared to
that thing."
     He and his crew had been as mesmerized as Starbuck.  The Pegasus
looked almost like a skeleton of itself.  The landing bay, blown away by
the Poison Mist was almost repaired but much of the ship had been
stripped away revealing delicate internal structure.  Sensors indicated
thousands of people working on the ship, which would take another six
months of repair.  The Solium drive units would remain but with dilithium
converters, which, theoretically, would allow Colonial FTL drives to
become far, far more efficient.  Warp field mechanics would be combined
with tunnel-shift technology to produce a tunnel-warp drive system.  No
warp bubbles, but the Battlestars would produce its own transit passages
to get from place to place.  Theoretically it should work or so they were
told. But getting the bugs out would be an interesting challenge.


     Inside the Colonials were seething.  The second IL had delivered one
last message directed towards them.  The words had been simple, then
puzzling, becoming frightening, then finally maddening. Next to him Adama
was crying while Sire Uri stared at the departing Cylon shuttle shaking
with hatred.  Again Sire Forsen read the padd.
     To the Commander Adama, master of the Battlestar Galactica and the
people fleet.  We the Cylon Imperium and I, Lord Spectre wish to thank
you most kindly for the planets you surrendered to us during the peace
conference.  All remaining humans contaminates were cleansed by order of
Imperious Leader.  I was personally given the assignment and was thus
unable to join the pursuit for several Centars. The planet Caprica was
given special consideration and was therefore used as an example for all
others to witness.  The remaining survivors, twelve million, seven
hundred fifty thousand, six hundred human organics, were hunted down and
beheaded over a period of three centars, post-Galactica exodus.  Although
satisfying, it took resources that should have been used to contain the
rebellious Galactica.  Our centurion's power units actually began to
drain themselves before we completed the tasks.  But we prevailed in our
task, finally deciding to irradiate the planet. But I chose to use poison
which destroyed all oxygen and carbon dioxide, creating a poison mist
that covered the planet which, now stands as an eternal memorial to any
who would dare oppose us. 
     Remember them.
     Spectre


     Captain Duvalier watched the Cylon shuttle carefully as it departed
the space dock.  Most of the proceedings had been broadcast on general
channels as several governments had a vested interest on these
preliminary meetings. What she heard disgusted her. There was no
compromising anywhere in their conversations and speeches.  Here was a
deliberate attempt by these robots to divide the Federation she
concluded.  A separated humanity versus the Cylon Empire.  No one else
need worry.  It was apparent that they believed that the Federation would
fracture itself, that this would be a human war and alien governments
would simply stay out the conflagration. In some cases they could well be
correct in their assumptions.  But if they thought that the Klingons
would stay out of it they were stupid.  It was clear that the Vulcans
were in it also.  And the Deltans, and the Bajorans. The Gorn were
watching everyone and everything. Then there were the Dominion properties
in the Alpha quadrant, those worlds that elected to stay under the
influence of the Dominion.  And the Cardassians and...
     Her musings were interrupted as the shuttle began docking procedures
with the mothership.  Within five kilometers of docking the entire ship
lit up on sensors.  Within another minute the carrier began to slowly
exit the planetary system.  
     Duvalier watched the departing ship with even more interest than she
had a few moments earlier.  Her ship was positioned relative between the
Deep Space Twenty-Three and the Basestar, a situation she felt
uncomfortable with.  "Helmsman, move us ten thousand kilometers
thirty-five degrees port, one forth impulse."
     "Yes, Captain," he answered.  
     "Are they going to warp?"
     "I believe so. Their engines are powering up."
     "Shields?" she asked.
     "Navigational only."
     "Captain," Thompson started.  The tactician in him had screamed a
warning, which wasn't at all clear.  "I don't like this.  Their power
readings are a touch too high for simple warp.  But their shields and
weapons are offline."
     "Pat's blood froze.  "They're not going critical are they?"
     "No, sir."
     "Thank God for that," she murmured.
     Maybe not, Captain," her communications officer said. "We're getting
a priority call from the Enterprise-E.  They've been attacked.  The San
Antonio has been destroyed. They're currently engaged with two Hellions
at the neutral zone."
     Duvalier did a quick calculation.  "... would have been about two
hours ago.  How many...?"  She never got her next question out. That next
instant, the Khe Sahn was at red alert as sensors detected two
projectiles erupt from the Hellion and slam directly into the shields of
the space station, which had auto-activated them less than a second
before contact.  The entire area of space went white from the impact. 
     One hundred fifty Cylon fighters and Hunter killers erupted from the
Basestar faster than anyone imagined and vectored directly for the
Federation ships as the Basestar moved in on the station itself.


     On the opposite side of the station, Starbuck and the others were
momentarily blinded as the Cylon missiles collided with the space
station's shields. He knew what had happened as soon as the first light
slammed into his Viper's adaptive canopy.  Colonial shields instantly
snapped on and weapons systems came online.   "Cobras, tighten up."
     "You're the boss, sir," Boxey said, his voice tight with tension. 
"What's the plan?"
     Starbuck did a quick assessment of the situation.  The fighters were
engaging the starships with the intent of clear the way for the Basestar
to get a clear shot at the station.  Missiles were now ineffective as the
stations defenses systems could knock them from space.  However, the
stations shields were at forty percent now and venerable to sustained
strikes from the powerful multiplex disruptors onboard the Cylon Hellion. 
This was also a suicide mission, the ship had no intentions of returning
home.  Its entire power curve suggested that with a possible addition of
ram-destruct if necessary.  He guessed that the people had figured out
part of the equation but probably not the suicide part.  
     "Here's what we do," he started quickly. "We hit the fighters hard
and fast getting the ships off the Feds back so that their larger ships
can use their big guns on the Basestar.  Remember Adama's in there and we
don't want to be the ones who have to explain to our people at home how
he lost him and the others.  Look sharp, keep together and shoot anything
Cylon."
     "By your command, oh great leader," Boxey said quickly.
     "Cut it out, before I have you grounded for a yahren."
     The three Colonial ships quickly formed a wedge, cutting through
Cylon shielding and armor as though it wasn't there.  Within moments four
HTs were blown away and five fighters obliterated as the three ships cut
through them with unexpected ferocity.  
     Joliet found herself screaming hysterically.  "I love these new
weapons!" This is what the Cobras were designed for, a superiority
fighter designed to wreck havoc upon Cylon fighters.  With the Klingon
weaponry and Federation shielding they could now do just that. 
"Commander! They're three ships hitting that small Fed ship over there."
     "Let's go," her Commander said and they arced towards the besieged
ship.  As a unit, they hit the three Cylon warships, together cutting
them to pieces while continuing their run.
     "That got their attention," Boxey said as twelve Cylon warships
vectored towards them.

     The Khe Sahn's phasers blew two more Raiders from the skies before
they impacted themselves into another Federation ship caught unawares by
the suicide attempt.  It was clear that more training was going to be
needed by all concerned in cornered area combat.  The Raiders and Hunter
Killers were designed for close quarter warfare between small fast moving
ships.  The targeting systems on Fed ships had improved dramatically
since the Dominion war, but the human factor still remained a critical
point.  Duvalier even found herself having to quickly adjust her tactics. 
The protection of the Space Station was paramount and she couldn't leave
the immediate area.  Already her starboard nacelle had been hit by
disruptor fire when the shielding failed momentarily. Now her ship was
unable to go to warp.  Engineering was frantically trying to repair the
damage.
     Two starships had been destroyed fairly quickly, a third was in
danger of being destroyed and the Hellion was closing quarters quickly. 
The Defiant-class ships, however were holding their own and the Colonial
fighters were wrecking havoc among the enemy.  Those ships were
tailor-made for this type combat.  Within moments of joining the fight
they had cut a swathe of destruction that made the enemy sit up and take
notice.  Now the Cylons were about to swarm the three warships, which
were running directly towards them.
     "Captain," we're receiving a hail from one of the Colonial ships. 
It's Starbuck," Thompson said hurriedly  "They're bringing us company!"  
     She immediately understood what they were attempting and ordered her
to come between them and their pursuers.  
     "Shields at maximum," she screamed over the wail of the exploding
console to her right.  The ship turned and at full impulse prepared
itself to become a massive wall fro the Colonials.
     Starbuck's Viper, followed closely by the two Cobras were tearing
towards the Khe Sahn and apparent safety.  Behind them now were some
enemy ships firing everything they had at the fleeing ships.
     "It's too hot," Boxey screamed.  "We have to break off!"
     "Use you rear lasers weapons, now!" came Starbucks reply who'd began
firing even before he'd completed the order.  The incredibly bright
flashes from those lasers mixed with the other explosions in space.
     Both Cobras began firing their lasers immediately. "Lasers aren't
affective! We should be using our disruptors," Joliet screamed back even
as she obeyed the order.
     "Trust me!" 
     The attacking ships, encouraged by the ineffectualness of the laser
bombardment ignored the incoming Excelsior II class starship until it
tore into their ranks.  Instantly, the three Colonials reversed course
and added their firepower into the mix.


     Captain Quangnat cursed himself, the Cylons and life in general for
winding up in a middle of a war zone with fifty thousand people looking
for him for protection.  His space stations shields were down to twenty
three percent, a result of six missiles colliding with the protective
energy barrier.  The first four had been handled but the next two
overloaded most of his generators and now it was a slugfest between a
Cylon Basestar's heavy disruptors and his own station phasers.  As big as
the station was there was no way that one enemy ship could destroy it
unless it rammed it which was precisely what it seemed intent upon doing. 
While he was at it he cursed Captain Sisko of Deep Space Nine for making
that station a fortress while he, himself had went in another direction. 
His policy was that this station was dedicated to the expansion of space
not a possible threat to those they intended to learn about.  He'd
frowned on the armory that the sister station had amassed and had made no
bones about it.  Now he understood the reality behind Sisko's actions and
he cursed that revelation also.  
     Earlier, the Captain Quangnat had ordered his phaser batteries to
concentrate on the smaller enemy fighters, which threatened to overwhelm
the larger, more powerful but less maneuverable starships.  That action
balanced the odds somewhat.  Also those tiny Colonial fighters and the
Khe Sahn, fighting as a unit were tearing up everything in their
collective paths, but at a price.  The Khe Sahn's shields were almost
gone and one nacelle had take damaged.  And all three Colonials were
losing shield integrity.  They were fighting a battle now as they
retreated around the other side of his station, presumably for fast
repair and recovery.  However, several others had taken up their battle
style, with the Defiant class ships joining other Federations ships to
form credible fighting units.  Good for them.
     Meanwhile, his command station rocked under another assault by the
Hellion.  His own weapons responded by carving a piece Cylon bulkhead
into vapor.  To his horror his station had been drilled in several
places, it threatened to lose structural integrity, and now he had to
decide whether to began evacuation procedures. He cursed again as he
ordered four spreads of photon torpedoes fired at close range on the
advancing ship.   


     Inside the beleaguered station, President Adama and the rest were
located inside the secured diplomatic area.  As per usual, no one was
telling them anything about the battle and they had only their
imaginations to work with now.  On the Galactica, this was not an
uncommon occurrence and Adama, used to this kind of situation, took it in
stride. In his judgment, things were not looking up.   The deep
vibrations allowed him to gauge the damage to the station and although he
projected at state of complete calmness, he was terrified that this might
be the end of them all.
     Sire Uri on the other hand, tried to climb a bulkhead in his need to
get out of the cramped room.  He was unused to being in the thick of the
battle as his quarters had been on the Rising Star, a luxury ship that
rarely saw the light of battle.  Vibrations from without caused him to
tremble with fright from within.  Death was something he didn't want to
experience anytime soon and now it threatened to overwhelm him with him
helpless to do anything about it.
     Sire Forsen took it stride, trying to maintain a balance for the
others in the diplomatic corps.  He had seen battle before he became a
politician.  Nevertheless, even he felt helpless at this moment.  Another
explosion rocked the secured area and a cracks appeared on a bulkhead.
     Uri screamed as emergency force shields activated, separating them
from the vacuum of space.


     Lord Belzim and his lord, Spectre were not pleased with the
situation either.  The instant they'd boarded the Hellion took the
initiative and proceeded to attack the station...without orders.  The
combination of the Ruination Imperatives and its new awareness plus the
fact that Adama was on the station had cultivated this ill-advised
attack.  The ship had ordered all Cylon warriors on a suicide attack,
they had obeyed, and nothing that the IL Lords could do stopped the
attack.
     "This is an unforeseen development," Belzim said as it tried in vain
to contact their superiors.  "The Hellion is blocking all subspace
transmissions.  Our warriors are suffering greatly in this attack and we
have no reinforcements available."
     "Yes.  We'll have to do something about this newly discovered
independence our ships seem to have discovered."  Silently they looked at
one another and came to the logical decision.  "We have to leave and cut
our losses."
     "Can our ships make it?"
     "Not all if we are pursued.  However, the Hellion will not be
diverted from this attack.  Our people must be made aware of this
situation.  It seems that the war has started a little sooner than we
wished.   We leave now."
     "By the command."
     The order was given and a few minutes later, the IL Lords and the
remaining complement of Cylon fighters broke and ran for the safety of
the neutral zone some two hours away at maximum warp. 
     The Khe Sahn, repairs jury-rigged, accompanied by the three Colonial
fighters, tore from the safety of the station.  The fighters were
escaping.  Good riddance, they all thought, but that mothership was still
coming at them.  Every weapon they possessed was trained upon the
Basestar and the resulting destruction was horrendous.  
     The Hellion continued despite the damage, the power building for one
last detonation.

 
     Starbuck appearance was grimfaced as he pushed his disruptors on
overload.  Under the pounding from all the surviving ships, the Hellion
was coming apart in huge sections.  Next to him, both Cobras were adding
their impressive weaponry to the firestorm and the Khe Sahn's phaser
banks were on the verge of burnout and still the ship came on even as it
began its' final tumble.  
     Captain Duvalier realized their chances were almost nil in stopping
this oncoming disaster.  "Colonials," she yelled over the comms, "Get
clear!"  Even as she was giving the order, she had made her choice.
"Commander Kabila, prepare to ram the ship."
     There was an instance of dead silence before he simply said," yes,
Captain."  
     "I want a controlled containment failure, coinciding with our
destruction.  It's the only way to save the station. "
     They all understood that the resulting detonation would save the
station at the cost of their lives.  All in all, it would be a good
tradeoff.
     "Everything is ready," Thompson said.  "Should be a nice bang.  Too
bad we won't be around to see it."  His face was stone.  There was no
expression at all from him.  In fact, the entire bridge crew silently
agreed with the decision.  After all, they were Starfleet. 
     "Can't have everything, Commander," she answered.  She looked at the
helmsman, his finger hovering over the thruster controls.  "I'm so proud
of all of you," she said quickly to the bridge crew.  "At my command..."

     That command was never given.  The Khe Sahn and several other ships
in the immediate area were rocked by a titanic explosion as another
Federation starship, the T'linyn, smashed into the wounded Cylon
Basestar.  The resulting massive explosion completely vaporized both
ships and the collateral energy slammed into Deep Space Twenty-Three,
blackening a full third of its hull.  But the station, although wounded,
had survived.  It had never stopped firing even when its destruction had
been assured.
     All three colonial ships docked inside the Khe Sahn.  The Viper II
had so much damage that it would have to be scrapped, but it had kept its
pilot alive and well and Starbuck was more than grateful to the old girl. 
The Cobras were damaged also, but not beyond repair.  Two members of
their crews had been lost in the conflict.  The Khe Sahn itself, lost
eight crew members and, had an additional thirty-one injuries, two
serious.  
     The T'linyn was lost with seven hundred Vulcan officers and crew. 
It was also the only ship that had sustained almost no damage during the
fighting for DS Twenty-Three.  The Space station sustained two thousand
causalities, but a violently angry diplomatic corps had survived.  Any
arguments for a peaceful resolution were a now distant, moot point.
     Two days later, an official state of war existed between the
governments of the Federation, Klingon Empire and the non-aligned
Colonial remnants against the Cylon Empire.

Chapter Eleven
Exposure

The Katasi nebula:

     Like the far, far majority of nebulae present in the Milky Way
Galaxy, visual examination from an existing position on Earth was
impossible, as it was, obscured by the massive, stellar dust clouds that
permeated much of space in the galaxy.  However, the nebulae themselves
were a different story.  Superheated gases, energy particles, high energy
dust particles, radiation and light, most of all light, had a profound
effect on life forms in the surrounding areas.  Nearly all of those life
forms were blind, as we understand blindness to be, either without visual
sensory organs, or these life forms were equipped with organs that sensed
radiation levels.   Scientists speculated that the massive dust clouds
separating the nebula from the system proper, allowed conditions of life
to exist and even prosper.  Nearly three hundred years ago, those
fledgling Starfleet explorers had discovered only one sentient species
located at the edge of nebula in what was called the Katasi system.  
Since the Enterprise-E was going there, it would collect as much
scientific data as possible.
     The dark-skinned, reptoid inhabitants of Katasi possessed no eyes,
but there were sensory organs that could detect minute changes in
radiation.  As a whole, they were a curious, non-violent species, which
were beginning to develop second-generation atmospheric flight
capabilities and nuclear power.  The planet itself was continually cloud
covered, which served as an added protection against the intense assaults
of light and radiation coming from the nearby nebulas energy belt.
     But now, these creatures were being assaulted by another, far more
sinister force.  Their planet was in the process of being strip-mined by
elements of the Cylon Imperium.  The Katassian population had now been
reduced to approximately fifteen percent by those robotic invaders as any
resistance had been stamped out ruthlessly months ago.  The Cylons were
essentially ripping the planet to shreds, sending valuable resources to
the partially completed factory-fortress complex orbiting the planet some
two thousand kilometers distant.  The size and mass of the complex was
sufficient to effect gravity on the.  Small seas were slowly shifting
their positions, established for-untold millennia.  Energy converters,
sunk almost to the planet's core, used the extreme heat present in the
molten rock, to produce energy, which was then transmitted to the
orbiting complex above.  Other converters, stationed near the leading
edge of the nebula channeled energy back towards the complex also.  The
surviving, starving population could only pray for some form of
salvation.
     It had taken nearly a week of travel for the Enterprise-E to reach
the fringes of the Katasi nebula.  Twice, Romulan warbirds passed within
scanner range but it was clear that they took no interest of the
Federation ship skimming the edge of the neutral zone.  The war with the
Cylons was taking a toll and the Enterprise scanners made detailed
recordings of at least three major incidents deep within Romulan
territory.  Sensor data indicated that the Romulans were holding their
own but just barely.  Of the three incident recorded, one represented a
clear loss by the Romulans, the others a stalemate.  Multiple ion trails,
with Cylon signatures, were definitely being tracked into and away from
the nebula.  It would take another week for the starship to reach the
Katasi star cluster from inside the nebula.  Travel was slowed down to
half impulse as unimagined energies, radiations and particles of every
size buffeted the ship.  It was also clear that the Cylons had begun
mining the nebula with solium-based subspace mines, one of which the
Enterprise blundered into.  Multiphasic shields, partially effective now
due to the effects of the nebula, saved the ship from destruction, but
the point had been made most eloquently and the ship treaded carefully
towards the ion trail's points of origin. The mission itself was a simple
one.  Find the Base of Operations of the Imperium, get sensor data, then
run.
     In that order.
     Picard's number one, Commander Deanna Troi, by habit took careful
note of the emotions onboard the ship.  There was considerable tension
emanating from the crew but it was due to the anticipation of what would
be found as opposed to the inherent danger itself.  What she found
comforting was that the crew had trust in her as first officer and she
found that she liked that feeling a lot.  
     But that same feeling worried her also because there would soon come
a choice, provided they survived this mission.  Riker.  Captain Riker. 
The USS Melbourne.  Possible husband.  Wife.  Children growing up onboard
a starship.  Command rank.  Happiness?
     "Commander?"
     Deanna instantly re-focused herself as Picard's attention shifted
towards her direction. 
     "I trust everything's okay?"
     "Yes, Captain," she responded as professionally as possible.  Her
empathic nature knew that he knew that wasn't fully the case but he had
no intention of prying either.  He was improving she thought.  He was
finally beginning to read her.  A little.  Then she thought about that
for a second.  Her consoler's position had been created to maintain the
crew's and Captain's psychological health during long term missions.  But
now after almost ten years, she wondered if this project was a help or a
hindrance.  For herself, she was a telepathic empath.  And her Captain
relied on her during missions to determine the 'state' of others as
though she was some type of lie detector or truth determining serum.  She
could do that and was good at her job, but the Captain had relied on her
too much and more than once she thought he'd been in essence, crippled by
her presence.  There were times he had no clue-no matter how obvious- as
to what others were thinking.  With her at his side, he didn't notice
body language, voice changes, nothing.   People would threaten him and
the ship and what would he do?  Turn to her and ask 'what does that
mean?'   And then she'd have to give some stupid, obvious answer like 'I
feel that that person has malice or anger towards us.  Don't trust him or
her.'   Sometimes she could just scream.
     But now wasn't one of these times.  She was concentrating on not
allowing the ship to hit any more mines.  The mining of the nebula had
been an ambitious project.  Not only was it large, over thirty light
years, but logistically it was almost impossible to do, but they had
tried anyway.  The combination of randomly moving objects, of various
sizes, high-energy discharges, gases, normal and sub-space particles no
doubt caused many of the mines to detonate unintentionally.  This led the
crew to believe that the distribution of the mines was designed as more
of a threat rather than as a true deterrent.
     Cylon patrols were more of a danger than anything else.  But again
the same conditions that threatened the mines also worked here.  Sensor
range in such a hostile medium was at a minimum and unless one blundered
into one of the patrols, it was likely they would not be detected.
     And Deanna noticed something else about herself.  She enjoyed this
kind of job.  It involved pattern identification.  Figuring out puzzles
and structure.  Structure indicated pattern and she excelled at
discovering patterns.  Her job as consoler involved finding patterns in
behavior, anticipating and dealing with them until a satisfactory
conclusion could be reached.  And she was patient.
     Then, to her surprise, she discovered that she could sense the
Cylons.  Or rather the void they exhibited.  Unlike Data, whose emotions
she could sense when his emotion-chip was activated, these artificial
beings had what she could only describe as a 'black hole' where their
emotions would be.  That was the best way she could describe at this
time.   Somehow their programming had a dark essence about that she, once
she understood it, could pick up.    She would tell Picard about it, if
necessary.  But,not yet.  She was Second in command, not a sensor
monitor.  Besides he'd probably ask her how they 'felt'.  And at this
point in her life she might just go off on her sometimes-clueless
Captain.  No wonder she kept her face so impassive, she mused.
     The officers had spent almost twenty hours in the stellar
cartography department, finalizing their plan.  Commander Data would be
instrumental, as he would be on navigational control, assisted by ensign
Tonuue, a Xeionalite male with purple glowing hair and seven digits on
each hand.   It took Picard a while to get used to this young man whose
hair, which stood straight up with curly tips, detected vibrations much
in the same way the human eardrum did.  The man was competent and Picard
had come to rely on his presence as an integral part of the bridge team. 

     At point three light years from the edge of the nebula's line of
demarcation, the starship came to a dead stop.  A class-three probe was
sent to the very edge of the nebula, which then began pre-programmed,
non-invasive sensor sweeps of the area.  On the Enterprise passives went
online and Picard ordered a visual, maximum magnification.  Then he let
out a soft whistle.
     "Geordie to Captain Picard."
     "Picard here."
     "We have some type of energy collector, starboard about six thousand
kilometers.  It's shunting power to the complex orbiting the planet.  I'm
counting at least six more within sensor range.  With that kind of power,
they must be trying to trigger some type of massive subspace reaction."
     "Explain."
     "I have no clue, sir," he said.  "But when power levels like what
we're seeing is being collected, usually someone's trying to generate a
sub-space wave front, possibly a black hole or some type of spatial
disruption."  
     "But we'd have to get closer to confirm that hypothesis," Picard
said deadpanned.
     "Of course," came the response.  
     The bridge looked at the main screen, most eyes locked onto the
massive complex.  Several members of bridge's crew were also
concentrating on the planet proper.  The scaring proved ample evidence of
aerial bombardment.  The cloud cover had taken on a sickly greenish gray
color. The planet's overall mass didn't equate with earlier readings
taken years before.  Overall life signs were down eighty percent.  There
was wave of sadness for the planet's population, but in this case the
Prime Directive had to be applied.  These people were not Federation and
their civilization standards didn't qualify them.  
     Plus there was the fact that the main base for the Cylon Empire was
parked in orbit made the entire point moot.  The people there were
doomed.  There was nothing he could do.  Still, Picard hated it because
he would be one who would have to justify his orders and his actions when
he tried to sleep at night.    
     Next to the Cylon factory complex, two more structures were being
completed.  The first was undeniably, their command star station for this
region of space.  The other, some distance away, was what appeared to be
the beginnings of a space dock.  Several Hellions were seen inside
undergoing various stages of repair and upgrading.  Then there were the
so-called Extreme-class Cylon Basestars, a third larger than their
cousins, jet-black in color, twin distortion nacelles situated just
outside the classic double hulls.  These ships had a discernible command
bridge, with four launching bays over and underneath the nacelles.  
     There were at least five of these monsters completed with another
eight being constructed.  
     Deanna's face contorted in abject fear for a moment.  Behind her,
Geordie whistled softly.  She could feel Data's awe spreading across the
room.  And Picard...
     Picard's emotions swirled between remembrances...the Borg, Wolf
three-five-nine, the Borg again during the temporal disturbance at First
Contact, fear and resolute determination.  He was becoming an anchor for
the storm to come.  The Federation had to know about this.  So did the
Colonials and everybody else for that matter.  

     "Captain," Data began as he turned to face Picard directly.  There
is a small structure orbiting the planet, roughly circular, two point
three kilometers in diameter, six thousand two hundred thirty tons,
composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys.  There are several shield
generators protecting the structure."
     "Neutronium," Geordie echoed.  "That's one of the hardest substances
ever developed."  He stopped and thought a moment.  "They're trying to
create some form of artificial conduit.  Possibly a gateway of some
sort."
     "Geordie may be correct, Captain," Data added.  "Theoretically, the
combination of the two alloys could be used to help establish and
maintain a subspace phenomenon, the type of which cannot be determined at
this point."
     "Could it be used as a weapon?"
     Both Data and Geordie though about it for a moment.  It was Geordie
who answered. "Possibly.  But the control would have to be critical or
there could be an energy backlash, which could destroy the normal and
subspace fabric for hundreds of thousands of kilometers.  Or it could
produce some type of subspace black hole, either of which could reduce
this area of space uninhabitable for decades."
     "Warp drive would be rendered useless for several light-years," Data
added, "and the reaction with the nebula itself could cause additional
unforeseen consequences."
     "Gentlemen," Picard halting the conversation.  "Right now we have
neither the firepower or the time to destroy that artifact.  We'll pass
the information along to Starfleet, after we complete our mission and
remove ourselves safely from this area.  Mr. Data...?"
     Data immediately turned towards his console and Geordie took his
place.  
     "I am ready, Sir."
     "Shields to maximum," Deanna said.
     Picard took a breath, sat down in his seat, tugged on his tunic and
pointed at the direction of the viewscreen, as was his wrought. "Mr.
Data.  Engage."

     The instant the Enterprise cleared the nebula, the ship jumped to
warp four, performing a tight scan of the orbiting complexes, the planet
and one of the new Extreme-class warships.  No even slowing down, the
Enterprise made a hard forty-degree turn, re-entering the nebula several
seconds later.
     The Cylon security units were caught off guard, but recovered with
perfect machine efficiency.  Disruptors sizzled after the fleeing
starship, ionizing space all around her, with two solid hits scoring on
the Enterprise's rear deflectors.  One of the Extremes followed its enemy
immediately.  The instant the Enterprise entered the Katasi nebula, speed
was reduced to three quarters impulse.  The tracking Basestar never
stopped firing its heavy disruptors in logical patterns, attempting to
disable the now invisible, fleeing starship.  That invisibility didn't
stop the Cylon from trying to incinerate local space for a second as it
followed into the nebula after its prey.
     The disruptors beams, raking the Enterprise's multiphasic shields,
ionized and incinerated everything collaterally, for a half a kilometer. 
The starship performed several evasive patterns, which helped prevent
catastrophic damage from the beams, but at impulse their options were
limited.  But this had been prepared for also.
     Prepare quantum torpedoes," Commander Deanna said.   This was her
part in the plan.  Picard trusted her, saying nothing, concentrating
instead on evasives.
     "Quantum torpedoes, ready," the weapon's officer section answered.
     "Release."
     Six high-yield missiles were released from the rear torpedo tubes of
the Federation starship.  Instead of tracking their intended target, they
simply remained where they were, almost inert and completely undetectable
within the swirling energy vortexes of the nebula.
     The fast-moving Basestar slammed into five of six of the bombs.  The
matter-antimatter explosives crushed its forward shields, along with the
bridge.  The ship went tumbling from view.  It had been seriously damaged
and if it and others chose to continue the chase now, they would do so
far more cautiously.
     Good.
     "Very nice, Commander.  My complements," Picard told his acting
First Officer as the ship began its journey around the first of eight
protostars selected for their high rate of subspace particle emissions,
which served to keep the Enterprise's position secret from prying Cylon
sensors.
     "Deanna's heart was pounding within her chest, threatening to exit
the nearest available opening.  She somehow murmured thanks.
     Picard smiled at his first officer.  She was learning.  Now it was
time to leave. 
     "Mr. Data, get us back to Federation territory with all due haste.
And what out for any nasty surprises."
     "Yes, sir."
     The Enterprise began its dangerous journey home, carrying news of
impending Armageddon. 

Epilogue

     It had been almost three weeks since the declaration of war had been
issued and other than several light skirmishes along the border fringes,
there was tense quietness as both sides prepared themselves for what was
now being quietly described as a war of extermination.  President Adama
and his entourage traveled regularly back and forth between his new home,
Mariposa, and Deep Space Twenty-Three to continue with negotiations and
familiarize himself with Federation culture and politics.   Most of the
wreckage and micro-fragments had been found and removed by those massive
tractor-sweeps that attracted and phased the garbage from existence. 
Traffic would be back to normal soon. 
     Strike Commander Starbuck was due to return from his impromptu trip
to New Halana onboard the Khe Sahn.   Adama had granted him the short
leave, which he hoped would relive some of the emotional stress that the
poor man suffered due to his loss of Cassiopeia.  The breakup had
affected him a lot more than Starbuck tried to let on and he needed the
time to reflect.  Adama secretly thought him a fool for letting her get
away because the fact was he waited too long.  When the loneliness had
gotten too much for Adama, even he had Sealed himself with Siress Tinia,
several yahrens past.  Of course during those times of political intrigue
and backstabbing, he didn't truly trust her at first, Tinia being a major
player in the Quorum of Twelve, the ruling body that had managed to fight
him at every turn during the great migration.   But he'd found her to be
a great asset, an intelligent, beautiful woman and most importantly, a
person who was flexible enough in her thinking to keep the quorum
members, especially     Sire Uri, from undermining everything he'd work
for to save his people.  Adama had been gone for only a few days and he
couldn't wait to get back to her and his family.  Now however, he had
guests to entertain here on the station, people who had traveled so far
specifically to meet him.  
     His reconstructed quarters, located in the diplomatic section
offered an outstanding view of those magnificent starships entering and
leaving the station.   Ships of several classes had parked inside the
station recently including two Colonial vessels.  He watched in awe and
satisfaction as the cream colored, Sovereign-class USS Melbourne had
docked several centons earlier bring with it passengers and several
essential items not able to be replicated by Starfleet machines.  And now
the Enterprise was easing into the birth next to the Melbourne.  Both of
them together were a magnificent sight, much like his two Battlestars
side by side, daring anything to mess with the charges under their care.
     "It is magnificent isn't it," the woman standing next to him said.  
     He had to agree which he acknowledged with a shake of his head. 
"Picard should be here shortly.  I read his report.  That was unusual for
a Captain to break communications silence with such information."
     "He wanted the Romulans to know what he found.  I'm sure that they
would not have been so forthcoming to us," she added dryly.  "But even if
they don't understand, we're in this war together that doesn't exclude us
from aiding their effort.  Chalk it up to one of our multiple human
failings," she mused.  "One day they may actually learn a little more
about us."

     She felt his presence before she saw him, his aura calling to her
like beacon.   Captain William Thomas Riker was there at the docking
gateway.  "Will," she whispered while sending her thoughts into his mind. 
Their relationship was such that although not fully telepathic, he could
read what she sent to him.  His joy reflected back at her and in another
moment they were in each other arms.  It was unseemly to have a Captain
kissing a First officer, but most people didn't care and it was a poorly
kept secret anyway.
     "How was your first combat mission as a first officer," he asked,
all the while smiling that infectious smile of his.
     "Frightening.  Glorious.  Full of sadness and satisfaction."  Her
happiness at seeing him was a reflection of his.  "Did you miss me?"
     "Absolutely," he responded, kissing her again.  "There wasn't a
minute on my milk-runs, that I didn't think about you."  The USS
Melbourne was still in shakedown mode, although with war looming on the
horizon that could be shortened considerably.  "When will the transfer
come thru?" he asked remembering her promise of six weeks past to come
and join him on his ship.
     That stopped her short.  She'd half forgotten about that.  That
worried her.  The moment that Riker had obtained his ship it was assumed
that she would be with him.  She expected no less but this mission had
changed everything.  Being first officer for the last month and a half
had changed her in ways she'd never imagined.  "Will," she said finally,
"we have to talk."
     The man understood instantly.  "You're not coming, are you?"
     "Will," she said, evading the question slightly.  "I can feel them."
     "You mean the Cylons?"  Yes, he was sensitive to her.  "They're
machines."
     "Yes, they're machines, but I CAN feel them," she answered. 
"They're not like Data's emotions.  You understand that with his emotion
chip activated, I can feel his emotions," she stated evenly.  "But this
is something else."
     "In what way?" he asked as his curiosity was up now.
     "They exude a darkness about them.  There's something resonating in
their programming that I can detect.  Once I realized what it was, it's
become easier to detect.  I'm getting better at it all the time."
     Riker looked at her, his face losing its expression more and more by
the moment.  "You feel you be a better asset to Captain Picard rather
than being my wife," he state flatly.  "Plus you like being first
officer."
     This was the curse of being an empath.  Unless one maintained
complete control every emotion one felt or experienced expressed itself
on one's face. And she never did have a good poker face when it came to
her beloved.  "Yes," came the answer.
     "I understand," he said.  And he did too.  "I understand what it
means to have that kind of responsibility.  But, I want a compromise. 
Stay with Enterprise, but marry me now.  And in whichever way you decide,
we'll have each other," he whispered beginning to smile again.  "Deanna,
I love you," he said.  Loudly.  Those around him looked in his direction
at the two of them.  Then he gave her the ring.  
     Her eyes went wide as he finished placing it on her finger. Unable
to contain her joy, she jumped on top of him causing both of them to hit
the floor, legs everywhere.  Their laughter was hysterical...and their
joy, infectious.
     A Vulcan male, moving past them looked at slight distaste at such a
raw display of open emotion.  His female companion almost smiled. 
Humans, they both thought.
     Evolutions were occurring.


     Captain Picard's presence in front of the diplomatic quarters caused
the sensor-chimes to ring gently and within a few moments he heard a
muffled 'enter,' which allowed the double doors to slide open.  He'd
brought with him a favorite vintage wine from the Family vineyard in
France.   Months ago the President had offered him something the
Colonials called ambrosia and he loved it immediately.  Its bouquet was
different from anything he had tasted before and he hoped that Adama's
response to this delicate white wine would be equally reciprocated.  As
he entered the room he stopped short, just for a second, shocked by the
four other people present, each returning his stare.
     The first person that caught his attention was someone he'd all but
forgotten about; in fact thought he'd never seen again.  The man was
older now, thinner and bore ample evidence thru his eyes, the horrors he
had endured over the last few years.  But even so, there was still
strength in his presence, that same potential of being one of the greats. 
His internment hadn't broken him.  He wasn't in uniform not but that was
to be expected. He could never be Starfleet again.
     "It's good to see you again, Lieutenant Riker," Picard evenly.
     "Ex-lieutenant, now, sir," Thomas William Riker said shaking the
Captains hand.  "I lost that during my hijacking of the Defiant."  He'd
come so close to preventing the opening salvos of the Dominion war. That
hijacking cost him everything.  The price was the loss of Deanna, his
commission, his freedom.  Everything.  But never would he admit he was
wrong in his intent.  -
     -Because, he wasn't.   
     Thomas William Riker was the unfortunate victim of a distortion
field and a dual signal transporter accident, which created two William
Rikers, one of which had been trapped for years on the planet, Nervala
Four.  Both Rikers claimed to be the real one.  Both were correct. 
However, William and Thomas, to put it mildly irritated one another, or
much more to the point feared and envied one another.  Each felt their
individuality had been jeopardized.  They should have become brothers,
which they were.  Instead, they ran from one another's presence.
     Their lives couldn't have deviated further from one another if they
had tried.  Thomas, looking for meaning in his life, rebelled against
Starfleet's foolish stance against their colonists, at the same time,
trying to appease the Cardassians who were killing them, joined the
Marquis resistance, hijacked the Defiant, illegally entered Cardassian
space and exposed a conspiracy.  For Thomas' crimes he was sentenced to
life in a Cardassian prison camp, Lazon Two, but that was commuted after
almost four years as the war with the Dominion ended.  No one cared about
the charges anymore and Riker's charges were more or less forgotten
about. Frankly they had more problems to worry about than one human no
one cared about anymore. When he was released and sent to Bajor, he
weighed just over one hundred thirteen pounds.  It took a year for him to
physically recover from the ordeal.   Eventually, he got a transport to
Earth and spent another year with his father.  By mutual consent, William
never knew.  
     In the corner of his eye, a woman walked briskly towards him.  "It's
nice to meet you," the woman said, moving forward to shake Picard's hand. 
She exuded a commanding, yet relaxing presence that made him take notice. 
The woman looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place the face. 
"I'm Kathryn Janeway," she said.  "And these are two members of my crew,
Commander and Anika Hansen-Chakotay, formally known as Seven of Nine."
     Picard's placid smile broadened significantly.  "Forgive me," he
responded warmly.  "I didn't recognize you.  I've seen your picture
countless times, but just now I couldn't make the connection."
     He looked again with renewed interest at the assemblage and at Seven
in particular.  He could see the Borg implants on the side of her face,
partially covered by her long blond hair, which caused him to respond
with a stab of fear within himself.  And he knew of the Marquis history
of Chakotay also.  There was pain in those memories.  
     Ro Laren, she who could have been.
     "Captain Picard," Captain Janeway began.  "It appears that just
about everyone in this little group have something in common."
     Madre, Picard thought.  The Borg and the Cylons.  Machine beings. 
His mechanical heart almost leaped out of his chest.
     "I received a visit from my Q and my godson, Q," she said, "just
recently and he gave me a warning."
     "Your godson is Q's boy?"
     Janeway simply waved her hand as she and they sat down.  "It's a
long story," she said, eyes rolling.  "Remind me to tell you about it
some time."  Just thinking about made her want a taste of coffee.  "He
refused to give me details."  Typical.  "But it seems that we three have
targeted for extermination by the Cylon Empire."
     "Ladies and Gentlemen," Adama stared, "Captain Janeway..."
     "Kathryn, Please, Mr. President."
     "Then please call me Adama."  The President of the Colonial
Government to a breath and recited a speech that he'd been restating over
and over for weeks now.  "As I've told Picard I hate being referred to by
that title.  Each one of us in this room has been cut off, and isolated
from those we serve ad those we love.  I believe that God has joined us
in this commonality for a purpose.  We will be instrumental in this
coming war and how well we work together may determine the fate of the
Alpha quadrant.  I have consented to Thomas working as my liaison onboard
the Galactica."
     Thomas' background history served to cause Adama to fear transporter
technology even more.  He truly felt sorry for this poor man. Which Riker
was real?  And what did that say about the soul?  Fate had been cruel to
him, but it could very easily swing in the opposite direction and
secretly, that was his and Kathryn's plan.  Let the man have his chance.
     "I have requested that the USS Voyager under the command of Captain
Janeway be temporarily assigned to the Mariposa system to help us in our
rebuilding and re-arming projects."

     Janeway had found Thomas-searched him out actually-and convinced him
to come with her to Deep Space Twenty-Three in the Starship Voyager.  For
some reason, she wasn't sure why, she'd become a purveyor of damaged
goods.  She had Neelix, a small time hustler trying to obtain water, when
she 'd first met him.  Then there was Tom Paris the then parolee, now
Chief Navigator and medic...and his wife.  Belanna was fun in the good
old days she grimaced.  And of course, Seven of Nine, once Borg, now
individual with an ex- marquis husband who was First Officer of Voyager. 

     Voyager was scheduled to become a museum piece before this new
threat emerged.  Now that the war was official this small, but tough
little scientific-survey, Intrepid-class starship would be needed and had
been reconditioned accordingly.
     "With our combined experiences with the Borg and Cylons I wish to
begin mapping out a strategy to help protect this area of space, for our
collective peoples.  It appears that our mutual enemies will have to go
thru our coalition before they can have access to the areas of space
frequented by the Federation.  I want the Galactica and the Pegasus to be
the first lines of defense against the darkness threatening to engulf us
all."
     Half an hour later, Picard opened the wine and Adama his bottle of
Ambrosia.  Both bouquets filled the room with their unique flavors. 
Riker seemed content to be a part of the group, or at least he was trying
to fit in. This was his chance to start over and he knew it.    The
Chakotays, still under the honeymoon influence, remained close to one
another, ready for love, ready for adventure, fast becoming their own
collective.  Anika wasn't a part of Starfleet, but on Voyager that was a
non-issue.  As for Janeway, wine or ambrosia wasn't coffee but it would
have to do.  For a few moments as she looked at the newlyweds she
reflected on things that could have been, if she had chosen another
course.  But now that trek was closed and like all the greats before her,
she was moving on.
     "Captain Janeway, I would have thought that you would have opted to
teach at the academy instead of taking on another mission," Picard said
as he continued to try to understand and anticipate this woman.  
     The ploy was subtle but Janeway recognized it instantly.   The man
was as subtle as a brick.  She looked at him, smiling wispily.  "We were
gone for seven years and when I got my crew home safely, it took me three
months before I began climbing the walls.  I'm home but I'm ...infested
with this need to get out and see what's going on.  It's the explorer in
me," she said laughing softly. "I never realized how much I would be
affected by the journey.  Besides, how could I refuse second level
contact with our Beta quadrant cousins after I've had first contact with
our Delta quadrant brethren?  The scientist within is chomping at the
bit."
     "At what may I ask?"  Picard was interested in her answer and maybe
something more.  For the life of him he thought that she and Dr. Crusher
had that same aura of confidence.  This made Kathryn...interesting to
him.
     Seven of Nine answered.  "Are the origins of these Colonial humans
related to the humans of Earth?  Of course."
     "But, we are related," Commander Chakotay said.  "Biologically,
they're identical to us, minus minor gene variations and some genetic
drift due to our people being separated." 
     "Maybe," Janeway responded rather cryptically.  "But, It was
something that Q said that makes me wonder..."
     What was her relationship with Q, Picard wondered, that he would
trust this woman to act as his son's Godmother?  Could he trust her?  


     Five Extreme-class Basestars, warped from the outer regions of the
Katasi system.  Their objective: the second of the Romulan home worlds. 
This was to be the first of the strikes aimed at the interior of the
Romulan territories.  The Supreme Imperium was pleased with these events. 
But problems with the Hellions sobered the Empires' mood.
     "The Hellions have been too aggressive since they have become
self-aware," the Imperium said to the assemblage of IL Lords.  This would
be the last time all of them would meet together.  Seven thousand pairs
of blood red eyes moved in synch, joined by their transceivers, to one
purpose.   "Let us hope that the restraints we have placed on them will
be sufficient."
     The Extremes were showing signs of being just as aggressive as their
younger counterparts.  This was good for battle but bad for maintaining
discipline.  Their computer cores had been 'muzzled' but that lowered
their fighting ability also.
     "I am confident that they will," Lucifer stated smoothly, seated at
his place next to his leader.  Next to him stood Spectre, clothed in
scarlet.  "Extermination of the Romulan home worlds has begun.  The
Federation will follow.  All humans will cease to exist and the Ruination
Imperatives will be fulfilled."
     "It is decided.  Romulans first, then all Federation targets of
opportunity."
     "The humans will rush to help the Romulans," Spectre said.
     "We expect them to," the Supreme Imperium answered.  "The weapon
will be online by that time. And while they rush to help the Romulans,
they'll see their planets burn."
     "As we command."
     "No," said one IL series, which was not an IL at all.  "By my
command they will burn."
     Iblis faded into nothingness.


     Commander's continuing log, Apollo reporting:  The Battlestar
Galactica has a new mission now.  We have a home now and our people are
safer and happier than we've ever been in the last twenty-two yahrens. 
But we aren't safe yet.  There's a war looming with an enemy far more
dangerous than anything we've encountered previously.  But there is also
hope.  We also have new, powerful friends.  Correction, they're family
and they've supported us with their words and their blood.  Right now the
Galactica is still venerable to the Cylon war machines, but every day we
are becoming stronger and stronger.  Very soon the Viper III's and Cobra
upgrades will come online.  The Adders are now undergoing refits on our
planets surface with the first of them joining us within a sectar.
     This is a tense time as our forces prepare for an enemy that will
never sleep and never rest until the last human is destroyed.  With
others joining us, they will become targets also.  But most of us agree
that the war will not begin until the Romulan conflict is resolved. 
Whether we help them or not is now being debated. These Romulans have
been very cool towards our overtures and my father suspects that they
blame us for bringing the Cylons here.  If that is true it bodes badly
for our relations in the future, if any.
     Not everyone has chosen to stay with so many choices available to
them.  Almost a forth have decided to emigrate to Earth.  But the
majority has decided to stay, preserving our culture, our way of life. 
Together we will stand and fight that which threatens to overcome us as
the darkness comes once more.  We will never allow the Cylons to force us
to submit to our fears, our extermination.  Never.
     But for now our people are happy and our neighbors have accepted us
with an enthusiasm that has frankly surprised us.  Some of the younger
members of the population have jumped at the chance to begin training in
the service.  They understand that the forces allied against us will
destroy us all without a second thought.  Our culture is our own, but
already, I see the changes beginning.  As I look at this new, next
generation, it is my belief that they will become great warriors and
together forge a new people, the likes of which we have never seen.  If
we survive, then in a few generations we will simply be just another part
of this vast majority and all our trials, tribulations, and mistakes and
will be a part of some history archive.  For my family, and myself I find
that that will be enough.  We have fled from tyranny long enough.  Now it
is time to make our stand. 
     The Battlestar Galactica, two Klingon bird-of-preys and three
Starships, continued their orbital sweep of the Mariposa system.   Their
fight would not begin yet and there would be much to prepare for.  But
the survivors of the great migration promised this:  The Battlestars,
twin protectors of the ragtag fleet would be the first vanguard in the
line of fire against the enemies that they had brought with them.  Their
people had been harassed enough.  God help them.
 

     Q and his son, Q watched the protectorate fleet as it orbited some
ten A.U.s outside the planetary system.  Clearly, his son was troubled
and he was as impatient as any of his people, even more so, because he
was a kid.  Q looked at his son and said the one thing he knew would
irritate his child more than anything else.  "Be patient, son."
     "I knew you would say that."
     "Of course, you did," Q responded mildly.  "By the way I was
impressed your control.   You did the correct thing with Aunty Kate."
     "But why didn't she tell them?"
     "Because humans like to carry things close to their chests, so to
speak.  Kate doesn't know Picard and Adama well enough to lay all her
cards on the table, yet.  And we know how stiff Picard can be but..."
     "Aunty Kate is different.  When the truth finally comes out it will
be interesting how the three of them will have to work together."
     "What about Iblis?"
     "I can't touch him."  But inwardly Q wanted to, in much the same way
as Captain Sisko had touched him so many years ago back on that dreary
Deep Space Nine.  "His plan is ingenious, I must admit.  He's a long term
planner."
     "They'll stop him," young Q said confidently.  
     His father gave his son that dubious look once more. "Not if the
Cylons finds Baby before Janeway and the rest..."
     "The Cylons are unaware of its existence so far.  But when they do
find out, then we can kiss all organic life in this galaxy goodbye if
they find it.  It would really be a pity, actually.  An inadequate
species that prevails in spite of their considerable limitations, that's
the definition of humanity.  But humans and some of the others have
possibilities though, and," Q added, "I trust Janeway and Picard to
prevail.  They always do, despite the odds."
     "I hope so."
     Q looked at his son, rubbed his head and answered in a voice that
made his son tremble.  "So do I, son.  Nothing is promised."

The End

NOTICE: THIS STORY MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREE OF CHARGE BUT MUST NOT BE SOLD
OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.   

---------------------COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-----------
This story, "Evolutions" by Albert Green and using characters created by
author Louis Miller, is a figment of this author's imagination.  All
Characters portrayed in this story, are fictional and do not reflect
actual people, either living or deceased.

"Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek: Deep Space
Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager", and "Star Trek: First Contact", and all
related Star Trek related material, it's characters and certain
technological devices and/or references to such, from the television
shows and movies, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or
are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and whatever Corporation it may or
may not be owned by.

"Battlestar Galactica", it's characters, and certain technological
devices and/or references to such, from the television show, past present
of near future, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are
copyrighted by the Universal Studios Corporation and any new owners in
the future.

Unique characters and technologies in this story are mine-and with
permission, Louis Miller.

Neither Studio is responsible for the content of this story.

THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'EVOLUTIONS.' IF DISTRIBUTED.
THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR
FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.  THIS DEDICATION MUST ACCOMPANY ANY
DISTRIBUTION OF THIS STORY.

Synopsis:  The Battlestar Galactica and Pegasus, along with their
charges, the remnants of the twelve Colonies have discovered tantalizing
clues of the possibility of humans located in the Alpha quadrant.  With
vital equipment slowly breaking down and a new generation of warriors
growing up knowing nothing but war and flight, the fleet may have finally
found the security they're looking for.  However the Cylon Empire has
also discovered Earth, its colonies, Bajorans, Betazoids, Deltans and
countless other races whose humanoid features have now marked them for
extinction.  A Federation task force, led by Jean Luc Picard, is
desperate to avoid another costly war, but they may not have a choice as
the Cylons prepare for a first strike against Earth. 

Be careful what you ask for.

Dedication
First of all, I have to thank B.J. Thomas who wrote 'Dark Dawn' and
'Deceptions' in 1994.  I had no intentions doing anything related to Star
Trek or Galactica however what I read inspired me to write this story. 
When I began I simply couldn't stop with all the things going on in the
various Star Trek histories and incarnations.  Plus the fact that the
Galactica tale needed completion compelled me to add my own take on this. 
Mr. Louis Miller's story involving the Khe Sahn and its crew fit so well
with my ideas that I begged him to let me use a few of his characters,
which he graciously consented. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again.

Several other authors have done variations of this storyline, so I had to
come up with a different perspective that would be interesting but true
to both shows and not repeat what so many others have so successfully
done.  I call the story 'Evolutions' because things constantly change,
and not necessarily for the better.  But this is what makes life
interesting, or so I've been told.

This is my first attempt at something like this, so be merciful, but not
too much.  If you wish, I would like for you to contact me with comments,
critiques, etc.  Next to the story, the biggest challenge has been
typing.  Thank God for the PC.

Albert Green Jr.
G3607273@uic.edu
G3607273@yahoo.com