BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
THE EXPEDITION
a novel by Sam Pettus

based on characters and situations
created by Glen A. Larson
and copyright (c) 1978 Universal Pictures


...for Richard ...

PROLOGUE

     In the seventh millennium of time, a thousand-year war raged between
the forces of good and evil.  Humanity, comprising The Twelve Colonies of
Man fought an epic struggle with the soulless machines of the Cylon
Empire.  The humans lost.  Now, protected by one of their last surviving
warships, the mighty Battlestar Galactica, a handful of survivors have
sought refuge in the one place that might save them from their ruthless
foe:  a beautiful blue world in a distant star system settled long ago by
the lost Thirteenth Tribe of Man ... a planet known as Earth.

CHAPTER 1
Preparations

     It was a quiet night in the barren Arizona desert.  No sounds were
to be heard save for the night creatures and the occasional vehicle on a
lonesome stretch of highway.  Overhead, the sky was so clear that one
could count hundreds, perhaps thousands of stars with the naked eye.  It
was a picture perfect night quite natural for that place, as was the
invisible waves of the night's radio broadcast beaming out from the quiet
little town of Parumph.  Not surprisingly, most of the vehicles on the
highway and in the homes and buildings across the area were tuned to this
singularly unique show.
     "Good evening, one and all, to this strange little corner of
Radioland.  This is Night Time USA and I'm you're host, Bart Dell. 
Tonight we have a special guest with us - one you regular listeners know
well, and one my new listeners will, well, find most interesting. 
Tonight, former National Science Advisor, network television consultant,
and extraterrestrial expert Dr. Hogan Richman will fill us in on the
latest news about what's up there, and what might be there to find.  But
first, this!"
     And with that, the show cut to commercial.

     "... and I'm telling you, Bart, our government is deliberately
feeding us misinformation about what's up there."  The voice of the
scientist crackled and popped as it came from the radio speaker.
     "You're positive," the announcer replied.
     "Without a doubt."  The scientist sounded confident, almost smug. 
"It's simple science, Bart.  You get enough data points and connect the
dots, and that will lead you to one inescapable conclusion:  there is, or
was, life on Mars; our government knows about it; they are deliberately
covering up; they now possess the technology to get there - and here's
the real kicker, Bart.  Someone has been slowly introducing advanced
technology in Earth's culture over the past thirty years - technology
that will inevitably lead us to the stars."
     "You're sure of that."  The announcer sounded professionally
skeptical.
     "Absolutely, Bart."  The scientist sounded unfazed.  "How else do
you explain the rapid explosion in science and technology that's happened
the past three decades?  There's nothing like it in current Earth
history.  Not even the Industrial Revolution comes close to what modern
society has been going through.  We're talking about more that just a
quantum shift here, Bart.  We're talking about a paradigm shift."
     "Meaning what?"
     The scientist's voice now gained a somewhat reverent tone.  "I
believe somebody is preparing us for something.  What I don't know, but
we're being prepared for that next step, the move to space, and it's
going to take place a lot sooner than we would have otherwise done it
ourselves."
     Now it was the announcer's turn to lower his voice.  "Why, Hogan?"
he answered in a hushed tone.  "The Greys?  The Lizards?"
     "Not the Greys," the scientist answered.  "My bet is the Lizards."
     A hand reached up and turned a knob.  There was a quick squeal of
static, then the twangy strains of country music began to sound from the
speaker.  A cry of exclaimation came from the far side of the desk. 
"Hey!  I was listening to that!"
     The Air Force corporal grinned at his buddy.  "Why?  You know more
about what's going on than that airhead does."
     "Wanna bet?"  The other corporal came and put the radio back where
it was.  "They keep us so compartmentalized here that I don't know
anything more than what's in the top of this hanger.  I've never been to
the lower levels, and I don't see myself going there anytime soon."  His
agitated look settled down once the radio show was tuned back in. 
"Anything more I can learn about what's really going on around here, the
better."
     The first corporal nodded.  "So why do you think they let us listen
to this show, eh?  Do they think we're stupid or something?"
     "Nah," the second corporal responded, then sat back down again. 
"They're so sure of what they're doing they're not worried about what
little guys like us might do.  That is, unless we do something dumb, and
I'm not about to do that."  He looked out the window of the guard station
across the darkened hanger.  "If only that fella on the radio knew just
how close he was to the truth, he'd probably crap in his pants."
     The first corporal nodded, then joined his partner in staring
towards the open spaces of the hangar.  Three vehicles were parked there
in tight formation.  Two were covered in tarps, but the third had been
uncovered and was being prepped for flight.  It resembled an advanced
fighter plane, possibly a stealth jet of some sort, yet its triple
engines and stubby angled wings hinted at raw power no mere jet could
contain.  He whistled, then nudged his buddy.
     "Boy, I wish I could be the one to take that out for a test flight."

     The air above Area 51 resounded with the banshee howl of triple
turbo-thrusters as a sleek black shape leapt almost straight up into the
sky.  The resultant sonic boom nearly deafened a small group of people
huddled on a nearby plateau several miles away.  It was the closest they
could get to the top secret Air Force base; roving patrols would let no
one come any closer.
     "There it is again, Bob!  Just like last night!"
     "I got it!"  A bearded man with a balding head was pointing a laser
rangefinder affixed to a video camera at a near-vertical angle.  "Jeezuz,
it's gone already!  Gawd Almighty, that thing went from - just a sec." 
Still holding the camera in one hand, he deftly worked a calculator with
another.  "Holy crap - that's thing's gone orbital, or I'm an idiot!"
     A young woman by his side spoke up.  "Dr. Payton, there's nothing
the Air Force has we know about that can do that."
     "That we know about, Cindy."  Dr. Payton lowered his camera, then
looked toward the young man who had spoken first.  "Steve, did you get
those images transmitted to the university?"
     "Yes, sir!"  The young man was feverishly working a portable
transmitter.  "How soon do you think the Air Force will get here?"
     Dr. Payton checked his watch.  "We've got six minutes from the time
my laser hit whatever that was 'till the choppers arrive.  We've got to
be long gone and back at the university by then, or else.  Let's move!" 
As they raced against the clock, Dr. Payton muttered gleefully to
himself.  "Hogan's going to be tickled pink at what we got tonight."
     The gear was packed and stowed in their vehicles inside of a minute. 
They were long gone from the plateau by the time the black helicopters
arrived.

      The sleek spacecraft, for that was what it was, continued its rapid
ascent through the Earth's atmosphere.  Within minutes it was orbital,
showing no sign whatsoever on its metallic skin of any heat friction from
its rapid climb.  Inside, the lone pilot was running a routine flight
check.
     "Serpent Base, Serpent Base, this is Cobra One.  Do you read, over?"
     The pilot's headset crackled with radio noise.  "Cobra One, this is
Serpent Base.  Roger, reading you fine.  Frequency shift A-OK.  Flight
check report."
     "All systems fully functional.  No red lights.  Everything seems
A-OK."
     "Roger."  The flat monotone now gained a bit of a laugh.  "You
really hauled ass up there this time, didn't ya, Terry?"
     The pilot grinned.  "Well, they said put this thing through its
paces, didn't they?  I wanted to see just how fast this baby could take
off."
     There was now a definite laugh in the headset.  "The Colonel's
really pissed at you, Terry.  At least that's what he's telling
everybody."  The voice lowered.  "Confidentally, I think he's proud of
that takeoff.  You just set the world record for the fastest
ground-to-orbit ascension time."
     "Like anybody's going to know."  The pilot's face became a bit sad.
     "Oh, cheer up, Terry.  Think of where you're going."
     "Yeah, you're right.  Someday, though, sometime, I wish we could
just chuck all this secrecy and do this out in the open.  I wouldn't mind
getting some recognition for what we're doing."
     "When the time is right, Lieutenant Williams."  A booming voice had
now cut into the radio conversation.  "You about damn near fried the
runway with that takeoff, mister."
     "I'm sorry, sir."
     "I'll let it go - this time."  There was a quiet chuckle.  "We were
going to have to pull that test anyway.  Now we don't have to.  You got
the coordinates for your rendezvous?"
     "All programmed into my computron, sir."
     "Good luck, son - and for God's sake, don't miss the ship, okay?"
     Terry grinned.  "With something that big, sir, it'll kinda be hard
to miss, but I'll do my best."
     "You always do, son, you always do.  That's why you're my best test
pilot.  Good luck, and have a good time."
     "Thank you, sir.  Cobra One, over and out."

     As he zipped around the Moon, using its gravity boost to help sling
him towards Mars, Air Force test pilot Terry Williams deftly put his
Cobra Starfighter though a barrel roll.  He could see the Moon's surface
flash past his view several times before it was lost from sight. 
Somewhere on its surface, he knew there an observation post silently
tracking his progress.  May as well give them a show for their trouble.
     At twenty-six Lieutenant Terence Williams was one of the highest
rated pilots ever to serve in the United States Air Force.  A top-ranking
graduate of Red Dog, Terry was also a seasoned veteran who had seen his
share of aerial combat in a number of "bush wars" over the past few
years.  It was mostly due to his record and his prowess with almost any
plane that he flew that he had been pulled for the Air Force's top secret
Cobra Starfighter project.  He may have been young, but he was the Air
Force's most rounded combat pilot.  He was the kind they needed for this
new program, where operating in a fully three-dimensional zero-gravity
environment would require new skills that had to be learned fast.  They
needed him, and more like him, if the threat that the Cobra had been
designed to combat ever materialized.
     Terry was about halfway between Earth and Mars when his headset once
again crackled to life.  A pleasing female voice sounded in his ears. 
"Cobra One, this is Galactica.  Do you read, over?"
     "Galactica, this is Cobra One.  Roger, I read you.  Request
permission to land."
     "Permission granted, Cobra One.  Alpha Bay stands ready to receive
you.  You are to report to the Commander in his quarters once you board,
over."
     "Roger, Galactica.  Understood.  Have picked up and locked onto your
landing beam.  Am now on final approach."
     One of the specks in front of Terry's ship was rapidly getting
larger.  As he got closer, the speck grew into an irregular shape, then
into an oblong shape that continued to get larger and larger before him. 
It was huge, even at this distance; in fact it was almost four times the
size of the largest terrestrial aircraft carrier ever built.  He could
now make out the oversized white flares of the aged battlestar's main
engines.  Just below them and to either side were massive side pods, each
with a hangar bay opening at its end.  Terry carefully maneuvered his
Cobra towards the portside bay and guided it in.  A few seconds and a
gentle bump later, and he was aboard the Galactica.  The ready crew was
there to assist him with his ship, as quick as efficient as ever.
     As Terry removed his helmet and began to stride toward the lift, he
notice a tall figure dressed in a blue Colonial uniform waiting at the
lift.  He bore the insignia of a colonel, yet Terry needed no help
recognizing the aged warrior.
     "Colonel Boomer!  So good to see you, sir."
     "And you too, Lieutenant Williams."  Boomer held out his hand.  The
two grasped and shook hands.  "How was your flight?"
     "Rather routine, really," Terry offered as they stepped onto the
lift.
     "That's not what I heard," Boomer said.
     Terry tried to look nonchalant.  "Well, the takeoff was a bit quick
...."
     Boomer smiled.  "Sounds like somebody I used to know a long time
ago.  He was just as crazy as you are."  He punched a button and the lift
began to rise.  "The Commander is waiting for you."
     "Yes, sir."

     "... and with that, sir, our testing is pretty much complete.  All
that's left now is to try it out in space."  Terry stood at ease, yet his
voice was precise and his words carefully chosen.  He had a great deal of
respect for the man sitting across from him at the desk, listening to
every word he spoke.  So did they all, both Earth native and Colonial. 
His had been big shoes to fill, but he had filled them admirably.   No
one questioned his authority now, nor had they done so for many yahrens.
     "I'm jealous, Terry," Commander Troy said.  He glanced out the
viewport at the starfield dancing by.  "Well do I remember the first time
Dad ever let me fly one of his Scarlet Vipers."  He looked back at Terry. 
"You're still feeling the rush, aren't you?"
     "Yes, sir," Terry grinned.  "The Cobra, she's a remarkable bird. 
Most agile and responsive ship I've ever flown.  I wish I could fly one
all the time."
     "I wish I could get away and try one out myself," Troy replied.  He
sighed, glancing quickly at his desk monitor.  "One of the problems of
being in command is that you lose some of the freedoms you had in the
lower ranks.  I miss my days as a warrior.  Grandfather, he was the same
way.  Dad told me he used to pilot his own shuttle back in the old days,
just to try and recapture some of the excitement he used to feel when he
was a young fighter pilot."  He leaned back in his chair.  "Well, your
last terrestrial test flight checks out and the Cobra is performing
superbly.  You've earned yourself some R&R, lieutenant."  He nodded
toward the door.  "Dismissed."
     "Yes, sir!"

     Troy's eyes followed the young Earth lieutenant as he rose and left
the room.  It was becoming harder to remember those days when he was like
that - young, brash, cocky.  Instinctively he reached up and rubbed his
right temple, his hand brushing across his graying hair.  So long ago.
     "It wasn't that long ago, kid."
     Troy smiled as a familiar voice sounded from the left side of the
room.  "It may not seem that long to you, Starbuck, but don't forget
you're on a different plane now.  Time moves differently for us mortals
down here."
     "No, I haven't forgotten."  A shining figure with brownish-blond
hair clad in white strode into view.  "I just get the big picture now,
kid.  All of it.  There are days, Boxey, when I wish I was a mortal
again."
     "Well, you don't seem to have done too badly, Starbuck."  Troy rose
and stood beside the ethereal figure.  "They still let you smoke over
there?"
     "Oh, this?"  Starbuck removed the cigar from his mouth.  "Merely a
projection.  You see me they way you want to see me, the way you remember
me."
     "Uh-huh.  Right.  Tell it to the angels."
     "I will, kid, next time I see them."
     Troy shook his head.  "You were always good at one-liners."
     Starbuck sat down on the edge of the desk - or appeared to, anyway. 
"Had to be.  I always found humor kept my mind off being scared early on,
and then after that it became habit."  He looked at the Cobra model
sitting on Troy's desk.  "Well, kid, is it ready?"
     "Yes, it is.  I've already ordered it sent to the foundry ships for
immediate duplication.  We'll have two full squadrons inside a week; more
once we get it down to Sidonia.  We're going to need them."
     "So you're putting it straight into service, then?" Starbuck asked. 
"Without space combat testing?  Isn't that a bit rash?"
     "There isn't time," Troy answered,  "and besides, it's been pretty
well tested Earthside.  I've got a departure deadline to meet.  The Cobra
will just have to get her baptism by fire, just as the original Viper did
back during the Thousand Yahren War."
     "Makes sense."  Starbuck looked out the viewport to a place Troy
could not see.  "You still mean to go through with it then."
     "Yes, I do."  Troy rose and stood beside him.  "We're ready now. 
Our Earth brothers are ready.  Dr. Zee says so.  They've come so far, so
fast."
     "They still don't know what they're up against."
     "A few do.  Their leaders; well, those that matter, anyway.  Those
pilots and personnel we've taken off-planet and given a first-hand taste
of what they'll be up against.  They'll be coming with us.  So will many
others.  The best and brightest Earth has to offer."  Troy's gaze now
followed Starbuck's.  "Earth is ready for this.  It's time.  It's time to
go back."
     "And you're sure this old girl will make it."  Starbuck rapped the
desk with his knuckles, but his action made no sound.
     "She carried Father and Grandfather all the way from Caprica to
Earth.  She's been completely rebuilt since that time.  She's more
powerful now than she was before.  Yes, I have no doubt - she'll take us
back.  She won't be alone, either.  We have the other ships now, too."
     "Surely you're not taking all of them?"
     "Of course not.  The force we're leaving behind will be plenty
strong enough to defend Earth against the Cylons, and Dr. Zee will stay
behind just to make sure.  Still, the fleet we're taking with us will
have plenty enough firepower to fight its way in and out of wherever we
want to go."
     "You're serious about this - aren't you, Troy?"
     "Yes, Starbuck, I am."  Troy looked Starbuck in the eye.  "It was
almost a lifetime ago of our Earth brothers that some two hundred and
twenty ships fled the Colonies under the care of the Galactica on a quest
to find the Thirteenth Tribe.  This time, the Galactica will be leading a
war fleet of two hundred and twenty ships back again.  We're going back,
Starbuck.  We're retaking the Colonies.  We're going to defeat the Cylons
once and for all."
     "Ambitious."  Starbuck thoughtfully chewed on his cigar.  "Just
don't get too hasty, Boxey.  Don't forget what happened to Commander Cain
and the Fifth Fleet at Molokai."
     "I haven't, Starbuck," Troy replied.  "Then again, I think it's fair
to say that I'm neither as ambitious nor as stubborn as Cain."
     "No, you're not."  Starbuck looked at Troy and smiled.  "You've
always had a level head about you, kid.  You had to grow up so fast, so
soon.  You almost missed out on being a kid, but I think that helped you
become what you are now.  You know, your grandfather was the greatest
warrior of his generation and your dad of his.  I think I can say without
hesitation that you're the greatest warrior of yours.  If anybody can
pull this off, you can."
      Troy grinned a sheepish grin and came about as close to a boyish
blush as an adult can.  "I'm just a plain old warrior, Starbuck."
      "No, you're not."  Starbuck pointed his cigar at him.  "You're the
Commander.  It's your call.  It's your vision.  These are your people
now, and they've responded to what you've asked of them.  They wouldn't
be behind you if they didn't believe in you, just like they did your
father and grandfather before."  He put the cigar back in his mouth and
stared at nowhere in particular.  "They'd both be proud of you if they
could see you now."
     "Thanks, Uncle.  I'm glad the Seraphs made you our guardian."
     "Don't mention it."

     Troy remained seated at his desk long after Starbuck's ethereal
image had faded from sight.  He sat in the darkness, watching the stars
drift past the window, pondering events past and present.
     It had taken over a lifetime, Earth time, for the Colonials to bring
their Earth brothers up to their level.  Not only had they met Commander
Adama's original expectations, they had surpassed them far beyond Troy's
wildest dreams.  Today's test of the Cobra Starfighter was but a small
sample of what Earth was bringing to the struggle.  There was also the
Earth Defense Force itself - constructed in great haste and secrecy using
the ancient Kobollian shipyard on Mars.  The discovery of the Thirteenth
Tribe's original settlement in this system had done much to speed up
Earth's advancement.  What cataclysmic event had ripped the planet's
atmosphere away, causing those ancient colonists to abandon their efforts
and evacuate to Earth still remained a mystery.  Most important to
Commander Troy and the fleet, though, was they had left much of their
technology behind.  It was more than enough for the combined efforts of
Earthling and Colonial to rebuild the settlement and take advantage of
all it had to offer.
     The Earth Defense Force, as it was named upon inception, now boasted
a starfleet over seven hundred vessels strong.  All were based on
original Colonial ship designs or were hybrids of Colonial technology,
Earth ingenuity, and anything else that the Galactica had manged to
record or pick up on the way to Earth.  The speed at which Earth had
amassed such a spacefleet amazed even Troy.  Once the automated shipyard
at Sidonia had been brought back on line, though, it had been only a
matter of time before starships were built at an ever-increasing rate. 
The construction of smaller shipyards on the Moon and Europa had also
assisted the process.  Troy smiled wistfully as a familiar-looking winged
cruiser came into view, one of many escorting the aged battlestar in her
orbit of Mars.  There was a time when both his grandfather Adama and his
father Apollo would have feared the sight of multiple EAD Destroyers
surrounding the Galactica.  That had been a long time ago in a different
star system.  Their record of the encounter with the people of Terra had
been the key by which their Earth brothers had been able to leap ahead of
their previous space flight development.  They had taken the plans for
the destroyer that had been captured back then, improved upon them,
married appropriate bits of Colonial techology to them, and in so doing
learned how to quickly build advanced spacecraft capable of starflight. 
From there it had been quite easy for them to master Colonial
shipbuilding designs, all of which were stored inside the Galactica's
data records, learn to use the facilities at Sidonia, and then start
building.  Even so, the upgraded EAD Destroyer had remained something a
sentimental favorite among the Earthmen, and many of their own starship
designs could claim it as a direct ancestor.
     He wondered if Starbuck had asked about Earth's defenses as a
warning.  Troy was taking a good one-third of the fleet with him, but the
Galactica would be the only major capital ship to make the trip.  He had
no doubt as to the valor of his Earth brothers; they had now been
discreetly fighting the Cylons for well nigh twenty yahrens.  He was
counting on that very same esprit de corps for the upcoming mission.  As
for the defense of Earth, he had seen to that.  The battlestars Icarus
and Osiris were being left behind to help protect Earth, as were many of
the cruisers and other smaller warships.  The warstar Adama was still
under construction; however, her weapons and engines were fully
operational and she could be called upon to help the rest of the Earth
Defense Force if need be.  It was ironic that the Galactica would be
leaving Earth better defended than had been the Colonies themselves in
their final hours.
     The Sixth Fleet, as Troy had named it in keeping with Colonial naval
tradition for expeditionary forces, would be spearheaded by the
battlestar Galactica, her escort vessels, and three squadrons of
destroyers - along with many scout craft, support ships, transports, and
so on. Also accompanying the Galactica as part of the Sixth Fleet would
be a contingent of approximately one hundred vessels from the Earth
Defense Force, including two of special note.  The Earth assault carrier
Enterprise had already distinguished herself in the Battle of Barnard's
Star, and the toe-to-toe slugging match between her, her fighters, and a
task force of Cylon warstars had become the stuff of legend.  Only she
carried more fightercraft than the Galactica in Troy's planned
expeditionary force.  Also serving as part of the Sixth Fleet was the
battle crusier Andromadea - the only EDF vessel to date to have taken on
and destroyed a Cylon base star singlehandedly without being destroyed
herself in the process.  She had returned from the sortie a flaming
wreck, with most of her crew dead and barely capable of travel, but she
had returned.  Now the rebuilt Andromadea was serving as the flagship of
the EDF contingent in the Sixth Fleet.  Yes, there was no doubting the
valor and bravery of their Earth brothers.  They already had the courage. 
They now had the technology.  All they needed, in their own words, was
"to get a move on" and get underway
     It was still sad, Troy mused as he continued to ponder, that most of
Earth's people were still in the dark about what was going on out in
space.  Earthmen were a peculiar lot in that they insisted to continue
living in independent nations on their planet.  Dealing with all of those
different governments had been difficult over the years, made even more
frustrating by the fact that many chose not to reveal the existence of
the Colonials to their people.  It was frustrating to keep hearing the
terms "national security" and "culture shock" even at this late date. 
Troy secretly believed that many of the authorities in Earth's various
governments used the secret of the Colonial's existence as a means to
advance their own personal power.  Such things didn't matter to him; what
did was getting Earth ready for the Cylons.  So, he and his people had
played along with the little games, all the while sowing the seeds of
technological advancement and doing as much as they could to get Earth
ready for the coming of the Cylons.  They recruited what additional help
that they could and did their best not to insult their allies in the
Earth power structure.  Still, Troy thought, they could not keep the
knowledge of the Cylons hidden forever.  It would be revealed someday. 
Thank the Lords that the fleet had managed to keep them at bay so far.
     A knock on the door interrupted Troy's solitude.  "Enter," he said.
     The tall, lanky form of Dr. Zee emerged through the hatch.  It
swooshed shut behind him as he walked in front of Troy's desk. 
"Commander Troy," he said.
     "Have a seat, Dr. Zee."  Troy smiled and motioned.  Dr. Zee took the
proffered chair.  "I was just thinking."
     "You've been doing a lot of that these days."  Dr. Zee sounded as
non-plussed as ever.  "I just had a visit from my father."
     Troy's eyebrows raised.  "So did I.  He wanted to warn me about
getting too carried away with myself."
     "Is that so?  He reminded me that I had been born knowing that this
day was coming - that Earth would be placed under my care."  Dr. Zee
looked down.  "I told him that I was not sure that I wanted this burden,
that my time had already come and gone."  Dr. Zee looked a bit wistful. 
"He said, 'Son, it is for this moment that you were born.  No one has the
special talents and insights that you do.  Earth needs you, now more than
ever.  Commander Troy has a destiny to fulfill, and so do you.  His is
the stars, but yours is the Earth,' ... and with that he was gone."  Dr.
Zee shook his head.  "I wish I were coming with you."
     Troy nodded.  "So do I, Dr. Zee, but your father is right.  Your
place is here.  Earth needs you the most, especially now that the
Galactica is leaving."
     Dr. Zee abruptly stood up.  "Then, Commander, may I make a
sentimental request?"
     "Certainly."
     "On your journey back to the Colonies, you will almost certainly
pass the place where my father died.  If you would be so kind ..." and
then Dr. Zee stopped speaking.
     Troy stood up, walked around the desk, and put his arm around him. 
"I know what you want.  It's been on my mind too.  We'll bring him home. 
I promise."
     "Thank you."  Dr. Zee seemed almost on the verge of tears.  "I never
knew my father as a child.  I am so thankful to have known him as a man. 
I owe him this."
     Troy smiled.  "We owe him this.  It was his sacrifice and that of so
many others that enabled the Galactica to make it here."  He paused for a
moment, thinking about what he had just said.  "I'll never be able to
find my father's body.  The least I can do is find your father's for
you."
     "Thanks."

     Terry Williams took a deep sip from his mug and leaned back in his
chair, enjoying himself thouroughly.  He always got a kick out of
visiting the Officer's Club on board the Galactica.  There were so many
stories to hear, so many tales to tell.  The only place he liked more in
the fleet was the Astral Lounge aboard the Rising Star, but such
diversions of pure pleasure would come shortly.  For now, he just wanted
to relax and enjoy the company of his fellow pilots and other warriors.
     "Williams!" came the shout from across the room.  "For Sagan's sake
guys, look who's here!"  A barrel-chested warrior with a mug of ambrosia
in both hands trotted up to Terry's table with several others in tow. 
"How'ya doin, youngster?"
     "Oh, I'm doing fine," Terry grinned, recoginizing his new companion
and his friends.  "How 'bout you guys?  Or is Daggit Squadron getting
soft?"
     A series of guffaws filled the air.  "Oh-ho-ho, look who's talking!"
said one of the other warriors - a short fellow with curly black hair. 
"When's the last time you flew with us?"
     "When's the last time this old tub saw any action?" Terry shot back.
     "No fair!" the first warrior shot back.  "Say, that's a sweet bird
you flew in a while ago.  Is that the Cobra?"
     "She sure is, Dallas, and handles like a dream come true.  Instant
response time, power to punch, and an engine-to-mass ratio that's just
out of this world."
     "I thought that's where we were," Dallas responded with a smirk, and
then they all laughed.  Terry waved, and then Dallas and his warriors sat
down at the table.  "You know, someone was just asking about you a few
sectons ago."
     Terry's eyes lit up.  "Oh, really?  Who might that be?"
     Dallas grinned at his curly-headed companion.  "As if he didn't
know.  Go ahead, Zac!  Tell him!"
     Zac cleared his throat in mock pretentiousness.  "Ahm, well, ahm,
let me think.  Oh, yeah!  My sister --"
     "Say no more!  Where is she?"
     "She's visiting Mom down on Sidonia."
     Terry looked crestfallen.  "Crap.  Well, looks like I'll miss her
this trip."
     Dallas and Zac looked at each other.  A smile began spreading across
their faces as they turned back to face Terry.  "You're on leave, aren't
you?"
     "Well, um, yeah."
     Dallas winked.  "Then, Lieutenant Williams, it is my privilige as
commander of Daggit Squadron to invite you to come fly with us down to
Sidonia for a routine training run.  We've got a spare bird we can loan
you ... and if we happen to need to stop at the base to rest and refuel
along the way, well, I think Flight Control will understand.  That is,"
and with this he smirked, "if you think you can remember how to fly a
Scarlett Viper."
     "I can fly anything that moves, and I never forget a bird I've
flown," Terry deadpanned in reply.
     The warriors of Daggit Squadron roared in laughter, clashing their
mugs in approval.  Dallas drained his in one swig, then slammed it on the
table and grabbed both Terry and Zac by the arm.  "Well, what'cha waiting
for?  Let's go!"

     "There's no question about it, people.  The Air Force is now in
possession of a plane that can go from surface to space without the need
of rocket assist.  The questions remain:  how did they get such
technology, and from where?"
     Dr. Hogan Richman backed up the video and played it again.  He
stopped it at the point where the fighter began its vertical ascent,
moving frame by frame, tracing the path with his laser pointer.  "Too
fast - way too fast for anything mankind is supposed to possess in that
small a package.  They didn't do this on their own, people.  They
couldn't have."
     The small lecture room at Arizona Polytechnic College was filled
with a carefully handpicked group of academics, students, and selected
citizens from the surrounding area.  All had been helping Dr. Richman in
his private quest for the past thirty years to prove the involvement of
an alien culture in the affairs of man.  One of them, an older,
well-built fellow, nodded toward the screen.  "Where do you think they
got it?"
     "From the same people that's been helping them all along, Frank,"
Dr. Richman replied.  "It's this super alien race that's fighting this
war against the Lizards, and you want to know why?  They're getting us
ready to help join the fight -- mark my word."
     One of the college students, an attractive young girl with long
brunette hair, gave out a low whistle.  "That's wild, Dr. Richman.  I
mean, you been telling us this all along, and sometimes it's been kinda
hard to believe, but after seeing this ... well, I dunno."
     "That's exactly how the public's going to react, Ariel,"  Dr.
Richman's tone was supremely confident.  "and when we reveal this video
and the rest of our data to them, it's going to blow the lid off this
damn conspiracy once and for all."
     "But how are you going to do that without the Air Force or somebody
else shutting us down first?" said Dr. Bob Payton, leader of the earlier
night-time expedition.  "You know they know we got the video.  I wouldn't
be surprised if they didn't have an agent in this room already.  We've
been damn lucky so far, but this -- this changes everything.  You know
they're gonna be coming after us."
     "That's why I've had multiple copies made and distributed as far and
wide as I can." Dr. Richman replied.  "Furthermore, when I do Geoeff's TV
show tomorrow night, I'm bringing one of those videos with me.  This
time, they're not shutting us down.  This time, the truth's getting out
with a pretty damning piece of evidence to back it up."
     "I dunno --"
     "Don't worry, Bob.  Nothing can go wrong this time.  Okay folks, you
heard and saw the presentation.  Any more comments?"
     It was about a half-hour after the meeting that the young woman
named Ariel got in her car and drove home.  On the way, she picked up her
phone and placed a call.
     "Yes, this is Ariel.  Can you put me in touch with Captain Dillon? 
Yes.  Sir?  It's as you feared.  Yes, sir.  Yes, I understand.  I'll make
the arrangements.  Yes, sir.  Good night, sir."

(to be continued)

Posted: March 12, 2003