BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: THE LAST BATTLE by Eric J. Paddon Based on characters created by Glen A. Larson This is a work of fan fiction and is not intended to infringe on any copyright laws Battlestar Galactica: The Last Battle From The Adama Journals Today marks a grim anniversary in the annals of human history. Fifteen yahrens ago, our colonies were destroyed by the Cylon Empire. And fifteen yahrens ago, the Galactica and her rag-tag fleet of 220 ships began its long quest in search of the lost thirteenth colony, Earth. A quest which to this date remains elusive. It is so wearisome for me to look back on all the billions of star miles we've covered since fleeing the colonies and the things we have left behind us. We have long since passed the scattered outposts of humanity populated by our earlier ancestors. Everything around us now is so unknown, so isolated. I often wonder how it was possible for our ancestors to have traversed this far to Earth. And when I ponder the sheer incongruity of that, I'm left with a more chilling thought. Does Earth really exist? Have I led the last great remnants of humanity this far, all in search of an ancient myth? Each day, I pray to God that this not be so. Already, I know that such doubts fill the rest of us. There have been many rumblings throughout our population that we should cease this quest for Earth. That we should land on a suitable planet and settle there. Let humanity rebuild itself from a new home, and from there fight back against the might of the Cylons one day, far in the future. There are even members of the Council of Twelve who now feel this way. But I know better. I remember a day long ago, when a strange race of bright, mysterious lights travelling through space gave us the general coordinates for Earth that we've been following ever since. That fact alone is enough to reassure me that our journey will not be in vain. That it is only a matter of time. I have more important means of comfort as well. A faith that enables me to carry on. And I am also blessed by the support of my family. By Apollo, who has shared so many of my burdens and yet has persevered as well. Of course, Apollo has had help from his wife. Dear Sheba, the daughter of Commander Cain and now my daughter as well. They have given me two beautiful grandchildren, Teague and Hera. And of course, there's Boxey, the son of Apollo's first wife Serina. While he is not of my own flesh, it's never mattered. I have always loved him as if he were my own. And now he's a fine young man of twenty-one, learning how to fly vipers. Oh, and I have to remember to call him Troy now, as he's come to view the name 'Boxey' as sounding too much like a child. Time does take its toll though. My old friend Tigh is dead now. His duties as Deputy Fleet Commander have since been assumed by Apollo, who out of deference to Sheba and the children, has taken himself off flight status permanently. Now, Starbuck has the role of leading our fighters into battle, if God forbid that situation should arise again. Fortunately, we have not encountered any Cylon since we engaged and destroyed the single basestar fourteen yahrens ago. Still, Tigh's death makes me wonder how many more of us will die before that elusive dream of Earth is achieved. And what will the discovery of Earth mean for humanity's future? My greatest prayer is that I will learn the answer before I die. Chapter One "Okay Troy, back to the left about five degrees." Troy carefully adjusted the control stick of his viper. It was only his fifth solo flight, without automatic instrumentation. And he was still in awe at the thought that after all his years of childhood dreaming, and listening to the stories told to him at bedtime, he was finally decked out in his own warrior's uniform and flying his own viper. "You overcompensated about four degrees Troy. Try to handle it more with ease. This is all supposed to come naturally." "Uh, sorry Uncle Starbuck, I'll try again." "And if you call me Uncle Starbuck again, I'm gonna start calling you Boxey." Troy's response was prompt, "Yes sir, Captain Starbuck sir!" Inside his own viper, Starbuck couldn't help but smile. It was sometimes hard for him to fully comprehend that little Boxey was all grown up now and determined to prove himself a man. Only yesterday, it seemed when Boxey and his mother Serina survived the hell-fire of the Holocaust on Caprica and were brought to the Galactica. Apollo, falling in love with Serina and marrying her. And then, forced to raise Boxey alone when Serina met her death on the sands of faraway Kobol. Then, Apollo's marriage to Sheba and the new adjustment that brought, along with the subsequent arrival of two younger siblings. Starbuck remembered saying to Apollo once that Boxey was going to grow up to be an outstanding warrior. "Any kid who's endured what he has, has already passed the first test," to which Apollo had nodded his assent. And now, Boxey, as Troy, was fulfilling that long-ago prophecy of his. Even so, Starbuck couldn't help but think back to the endearing mental image of a little boy playing with his robot dagget Muffit. Of course, that was an image Troy never liked to be reminded of. That was why he had shed the name he'd been given and taken one that had belonged to the very first commander of the Galactica, five hundred yahrens ago. Something that gave him a greater sense of desire to be the best warrior of his generation, even if it had caused a brief, and painful rupture in his relationship with his father. Fortunately that rupture had since been healed. Yep, Starbuck thought. Hard to believe he's not a kid anymore. Then again, he reflected further, it was hard just for him to realize that he was now in this position of leader, disciplinarian and teacher. The old fun-loving, girl-chasing, gambling Starbuck, an image he'd thrived on, had been forced to change his ways when the death of Colonel Tigh and Apollo's promotion thrust him into his new role of authority. A new generation of warriors who'd never seen a Cylon in battle would now be looking to him for guidance, and Starbuck was determined to set the best example. He'd settled down in his personal life. He'd finally summoned the courage to marry Cassiopeia, and they'd enjoyed a healthy, stable marriage, albeit childless, for eight yahrens. And then that contentment had been wrenched from him when Cassiopeia died of a rare blood disease called Gamma Syndrome. After a proper period of mourning, he'd acted true-to-form by shaking off the tragedy and plunging himself further into his duties. And now, his skills as a leader and teacher were admired by all. Where has all the time gone? Starbuck shook his head in irony. "Okay Troy, switch on your computer tracking. Don't bother with visual contact, just wait until the computer says you're locked." "I'm locked." "And fire!" Laser blasts emitted from Troy's viper. And then, a random asteroid they had chosen for target practice vaporized and disappeared. "Nice shooting Troy. You passed the test for today so let's head for home. And as a little bonus, you're invited to my dinner party aboard the Rising Star tonight." "Thanks a lot," Troy said, thrilled more by what he'd accomplished than by the prospect of dining on the most luxurious ship in the fleet. "Which phase comes next?" "We're going to simulate battle conditions next time. That's the last big hurdle Troy. You pass that and you'll make flight sergeant." "I'll look forward to that." "I'm sure you will," Starbuck grinned, "Blue Squadron Leader to Galactica. Returning now from training mission and request landing clearance." "Clear to land Blue Leader," Starbuck recognized Athena's voice, "How'd it go?" "Thumbs up. I'll let the genius fill you in later." "Affirmative that, Blue Leader. Galactica out." On the Galactica's bridge, Apollo lazily wandered over to Athena, perched at the communications center. "Are they back?" "They just landed. Starbuck says it went well." she smirked at her brother, "I wonder where Troy picks all that brilliance up from?" "From Uncle Starbuck, that's who." Athena wrinkled her nose slightly, "Starbuck isn't capable of transmitting brilliance to anybody." Apollo smiled thinly. Her outward tone was light and joshing, but his sibling instinct could detect the trace of bitterness in her voice. He knew that deep down, Athena had never forgiven Starbuck for choosing Cassiopeia over her. And because of her inner devotion to Starbuck, she had never married and in all probability, never would. But then again, Apollo thought, she really had only herself to blame for letting Starbuck get away. They had once been engaged, but the Holocaust and Exodus had shattered those plans. And then came Cassiopeia and the beginning of the tug for Starbuck's affection that Cassiopeia had ultimately won. In Apollo's mind though, Athena had never really made much of an effort. It had been her decision to break the engagement, and the responsibility for losing Starbuck could in the end, only be hers. Still, how could he not help but feel sorry for his sister? After all, he'd been blessed to have two women at different phases of his life. First Serina and then Sheba. And he'd had the joy of having his own children. Thank God at least that none of that had hindered Athena's competence as an outstanding bridge officer. After fifteen yahrens she now ranked fourth in the overall chain of command beneath Adama, Apollo, and Omega. No other woman had ever risen that high in the annals of Colonial history. Just then, Athena frowned slightly and came upright in her chair as she listened to her earpiece. "Something wrong?" Apollo said. "I'm picking up a strange transmission. It's really garbled and difficult to make out." "Are you recording this?" "Yes," she listened some more, "I can make out a word or two but none of it makes any sense." "This coming ahead of us?" She punched several buttons, "Transmission bearing is sub-heading vector three-one-six of our general Epsilon vector 22 heading. That means wherever it's coming from it's straight ahead of us somewhere. How far off, I can't tell." "What frequency?" She consulted the console and her frowned, "It's a gamma frequency. God, those things are so out of date, I almost didn't recognize it." Apollo stood there in silent contemplation. "I'd probably get a better signal if our systems were still capable of discerning these things," Athena kept fiddling with the buttons and knobs on her console, "Our equipment hasn't been designed to handle these kinds of signals in a hundred yahrens." She then let out a grimace, "I've lost it." There was still no response from her brother. "Apollo?" she looked up at him. "Plot the trajectory on the board." he said. "Sure," she punched several buttons and then a straight line appeared on the navigation board. "Make sure that's stored in the file," Apollo stared at it intently, "There's something I need to check out. Tell Omega he has the conn." "Okay," Athena stared at him as he left the bridge, not having the slightest inkling of what he was thinking. The disassembled Cylon centurion lay spreadeagled across the worktable as Dr. Wilker carefully went back to work on the control unit on the back. Finally, after some delicate probing he stopped and threw his instrument down on the table in exasperation. "Hello Dr. Wilker," Apollo's tone was casual as he entered the lab, "Still haven't figured it out?" The scientist threw up his arms, "Fourteen yahrens, ever since we captured Baltar, I've been trying to get to the main control circuits of these two centurions. Trying to find some way to override the main programming function. And I'm still no closer than when I began, if you can believe it." "Well at least they obeyed us when we needed them to, back when Baltar staged that prison break," Apollo noted. "Only because they were too disoriented. You turn these things back on long enough and eventually the primary programming to kill humans kicks back in. I've always kept hoping that somehow I could figure out how to deactivate that main programming unit and be able to make the Cylon centurion obey human commands permanently." "At least you never give up," the colonel grinned, "That's certainly keeping the spirit." "I make it a point to never give up on any of my projects," Wilker's tone was emphatic, "Not just this one, but there's also the hyperdrive tractor pull." "Oh yeah," Apollo tried not to sound bemused. He'd been hearing about that one for yahrens as well. Wilker's grand scheme that would enable the Galactica to travel at her maximum speed and allow the slower ships in the Fleet to travel the same speed in her wake. But just like the scheme to reprogram the centurions, it never seemed to get anywhere. "How's that one coming?" Wilker seemed to brighten, "I think I'm further along on that one than ever before. If I had my druthers, I'd try to figure a way of running a test experiment within say three sectans or less. Only problem is that there's not exactly a situation that calls for its use right now." Apollo flicked his finger against the Cylon helmet, "And there hasn't really been a pressing need to make use of a reprogrammed Cylon eithe2. And no offense Doc, but I'm sure we all hope it stays that way forever." "I suppose so," the chief scientist nodded, "I have enough trouble as it is having to design new things for that Piscean pain Shadrach to manhandle." "Ah yes, what does the Master Builder and Master Technician demand of you this time?" Wilker bristled slightly, "He wants me to waste my time designing totally useless pieces of junk just so he can make his demo-team training sessions more difficult. Would you believe that for the last nine sectans I had to come up with as many items possible that dealt with booby-traps? He says he needed to develop fifteen, fifteen procedures for dealing with booby-traps in demolition work. Now would you mind telling me what kind of demolition/building work in the Fleet has anything to do with that?" Apollo laughed, "Got me on that one, Doc." "But enough about that. What exactly brings you here, Colonel?" "Well I need your help for something that might even be more trivial than what Shadrach's been bothering you about." Several centars later in the observation deck of a celestial dome, the highest point on the great battlestar, Apollo sat at a console and viewing screen in the center of the deck, fidgeting with the equipment. "Apollo?" Starbuck's voice called up from below. "Ah, yeah Starbuck. I'm up here," he was slightly startled by his friend's voice. "What are you doing up here?" Starbuck said as he climbed the ladder up, "I've been looking for you for over two centars. Sheba didn't know where you'd gone, neither did Athena. I finally ran into Boomer, and he said he'd been helping you install some components here." "Uh, yeah. Sorry about that." "Well now that I've found you, let's get going. I'm having a dinner party on the Rising Star tonight. You and your whole family are my guests of honor. Troy, Sheba, Teague, Hera, Athena and the commander are all going to be there." "Yeah, I'll be right with you Starbuck. Just give me a centon." "Well what are you doing?" "I'll explain later," Apollo put his headset down. Starbuck looked about the wide view of open space the observation deck offered, "God, I haven't been here in about fourteen yahrens. Not since---" he broke off as light suddenly dawned on him, "Not since that time we picked up a transmission you thought came from Earth." "Yeah," Apollo smiled thinly. "Well I guess I really picked the right day to have a party. Have you heard another one?" "I think it's possible," he said as he stared at the monitor, "We picked up a garbled audio transmission on the gamma frequency earlier today on the bridge. I thought maybe by boosting this thing, it might come in clearer. And maybe we can get some pictures too." Starbuck leaned over his shoulder, "Anything since?" "No." "Well there's no point sitting here forever and staring at a blank screen. Why don't you just come with me, relax and join your family for dinner." His friend seemed reluctant to get up. "C'mon buddy, if you think it's Earth it'll still be there after dinner. I'm not gonna' waste my Rising Star quota for the yahren by not seeing you there." "All right," Apollo said as he finally rose and followed Starbuck down the ladder. "You know, Troy's really getting better and better as a pilot," Starbuck said as they walked down the corridor to the turbo-lift, "He just--" He then stopped and noticed Apollo's faraway look, "Apollo?" "Huh?" he seemed jolted, "Sorry Starbuck, what were you saying?" "I was talking about Troy and..." he broke off and started again, "You know for a fellow who thinks he's heard from Earth, you look as though you just found out that the place is being run by Cylons." "I'm sorry," Apollo sighed, "It's just that I've spent the last three centars thinking about all this, and for some reason I keep coming up with answers that don't sound all that good." "Whoa, wait a centon," Starbuck held up a hand, "You aren't trying to tell me that I'm right, are you?" Apollo broke into a weak smile, "Course not." "Then what?" The Deputy Fleet Commander hesitated before going on, "I'll try to explain it another time. In the meantime, I promise not to say anything about it at dinner." "Thank you," Starbuck brightened slightly, "Remember, it's my job to be the talkative one." Dinner was lavish, just as all dinners aboard the Rising Star were. After fifteen yahrens, the luxury ship that had been the personal property of the late Sire Uri had retained virtually all its elegance. No more however, did the Rising Star cater only to the privileged elite. The entire population was entitled to at least two days aboard the Rising Star each yahren. Only the immediate family of Commander Adama and their guests were entitled to any greater access, and that amounted to ten days per yahren. "My compliments for the outstanding ambrosia," Adama said from the head of the table, "I think a toast is in order." Everyone raised their glasses. "To Troy, the first outstanding warrior of the next generation." "To Troy," everyone echoed as they drank. Inside, the Galactica commander felt a sense of satisfaction and relief that something like this could be happening. Three yahrens ago, the idea of a family gathering with Troy and Apollo at the same table would have been unthinkable. The boy's decision to change his name had opened a rupture with his father that had left them not speaking to each other. Apollo had generally tolerated the signs of youthful rebelliousness Boxey had shown before, but to see him to change the name Serina had given him had been too much for Apollo. And in the course of their angry quarrel, Apollo had openly accused him of disgracing Serina's memory by doing so. For two yahrens, as Troy finished his schooling and begun his warrior training, there was no contact between the two. It was a subject Apollo had felt so strongly about that not even Sheba or Adama had dared to mention it to him. But slowly, guilt had torn away Apollo's resolve and finally, on the day Troy was to begin flying a viper, he came to him and apologized for the rift. He still didn't approve of the name change, but he was now willing to see it as just a sign of his son wanting to grow up, and not as a slur on Serina's memory. Their reunion had ended in a tearful embrace, and one yahren later there was no sign that there had ever been a breach between the two. Adama then eyed eight year old Teague and six year old Hera, both seated next to their mother, Sheba. "And another toast to those in the next generation who will prove themselves in time." "I can't wait to be a warrior," Teague beamed, "I'm ready now." "I don't want to be a warrior," Hera said stubbornly. It was always her way of letting everyone know how different she was from her brother. "Sissy," Teague said back to her. "That's enough you two," Sheba said sternly. "There'll be no more scenes in front of Grandpa. Now sit still and behave." "Yes Mommy," Hera sat back and pouted, while Teague straightened up and threw everyone an innocent look. Adama allowed himself a quick smile, reminding himself again of how proud he was to have Sheba as a part of his family. She'd come into their lives so unexpectedly when they'd discovered the Battlestar Pegasus and her father, the legendary Commander Cain, several yahrens after they'd been thought lost at the battle of Molocay. She'd then been transferred to the Galactica to recuperate from battle injuries just before the Pegasus went off to engage two Cylon basestars. An engagement from which she'd never returned. To compensate for the loss of her father, which had devastated her, Adama had seen to it that Sheba be drawn into his inner circle of family and friends. After several months, she and Apollo suddenly found themselves drawn to each other. They both had a common bond in loneliness, Sheba mourning her lost father and Apollo mourning his lost wife. They eventually fell in love and were married. Twelve yahrens and two children later, their love was stronger than ever. Marrying and raising a family had required Sheba to make the greatest sacrifice of her life though, and that was resigning her commission as a warrior. Apollo had not asked her to give up her warrior's status, but Sheba had sensed that it would mean a lot to Apollo's peace of mind if she did. She knew all too well the tragedy of what had happened when Serina had decided to put herself on active duty. And so, she had given up the work that had been her life's blood for so long. In return, Apollo agreed to take himself off fight status permanently, even before the death of Colonel Tigh had elevated him to Deputy Fleet Commander. It was clear though, that Sheba had no regrets at all about leaving active duty. Especially when she was so much in love with her husband, and with her children. How ironic, Adama thought, that one day he'd be bound to Commander Cain through ties of family and blood. He often liked to joke with self-deprecation over whether Teague would grow up to be a blood-and- guts warrior of action like his maternal grandfather, or a passive reserved one like himself. His glance shifted to Apollo, "You've been rather quiet throughout dinner, Apollo. Has anything been bothering you?" "What?" Apollo stirred, "Oh, ah nothing Father. Nothing at all." "I think not. Tell us, you're among family." "Well it's not a family matter, but..." he glanced over at Starbuck who gave him a look that seemed to say, what the heck. Go ahead. "We picked up a garbled transmission earlier today on the gamma frequency. I've been trying to track it down." "Gamma frequency?" Adama frowned, "Why wasn't I notified?" "I was going to tell you later as soon as I got more information. Look, I have absolutely no idea what it means." "Then why does it bother you so much?" his father persisted. "I--", abruptly his son broke off. "Are you worried that it's Cylon?" Sheba spoke up. "No, not that it's Cylon. I mean, there isn't a Cylon within infinity's range of us." "Then what?" Adama's frown deepened, "Did you hear it?" "I haven't played the tape back, but Athena heard it, she's the one who picked it up." Adama turned to his daughter, "Well?" Athena, who didn't understand what this was all leading to, shook her head, "It was on the three-one-six heading, very garbled and I could only make out a word or two. And what I did hear made no sense." "What was it? Can you remember?" "Let's see," she leaned back, "It sounded like huse-ten. Then there was 'copy' and 'read'. I couldn't make out anything else." "Aren't those gamma frequencies real ancient?" Troy asked, joining the conversation. "By our standards, yes," his father said, "No telling what kind of civilization may have sent it, but evidently not one that's up to our standards of technology." Starbuck's head perked up as he suddenly connected two things together. But he decided to hold his tongue. "The instruments in the celestial dome are the only ones capable of deciphering gamma signals," Apollo went on, "I had Boomer install some components Wilker came up with that can get better copies of any more that come in." "Then all we can do is wait," Adama leaned back and sipped his drink, "Keep me posted on the situation. It's been a long time since we've encountered any kind of alien race, and I certainly don't want to see us caught off-guard." "I will." Later, after they had all returned to their quarters aboard the Galactica, Apollo sat at his desk looking through a copy of the Book of the Word, totally lost in thought. "I've put the children to bed," Sheba said as she emerged from the adjacent bedroom, "God, the way the two of them snap at each other some times can really be discouraging. I hope it's only a passing sibling rivalry." There was no response from her husband. "Apollo?" Apollo looked up. She'd let her hair down and changed into a thin negligee, "Hi," he said and then looked at her in admiration, "You look terrific." "Thank you," she sat beside him, "I was just saying that Teague and Hera seem to be going through an intense period of sibling dislike." "I think it'll pass in time," her husband said reassuringly as he went back to the Book, "It's an unfortunate trait of mine they inherited. I went through the same thing with Zac and Athena when I was a kid." "I hope you're right," Sheba said, "They mean so much to me and I don't want to see that kind of animosity. It...almost makes me wonder if I've been doing something wrong as a parent." Her husband put the Book down and looked at her with concern, "Sheba, don't ever think anything like that. They're just going through a phase of rebellion. All children go through that at some point. Just like...Troy did." Sheba noted how he seemed to have trouble saying that name whenever he made reference to the events that had caused the two yahren split. After nodding faintly in acknowledgment, she decided to drop the subject and move on to something else, "Apollo, why were you acting so strange when that whole thing about the gamma frequency transmission came up?" Apollo leaned back and sighed, "I don't know Sheba, I just have this funny feeling about it. That maybe it..." "Came from Earth?" Sheba finished for him. "How'd you guess?" "My intuition," she began rubbing his shoulders, "But if you think it's from Earth, then why is it making you so withdrawn? I know I'd be acting like a drunken Sagitarian if I thought you were right. This is what we've been waiting for for fifteen yahrens." "Sheba," he said as he glanced out the porthole into the starlit blackness of space, "What exactly have you, have any of us been waiting for when we find Earth?" "That's easy," her tone grew wistful, "A place that will give us a base to fight back against the Cylons some day. A place where we can all live in peace again, and where our children can have a future and be free." "True," her husband nodded, "That's what we've always hoped for. But suppose..." he trailed off. "Suppose what?" Sheba frowned, "What's bothering you, Apollo?" Apollo carefully gathered his strength. "Suppose Earth isn't like that?" he said, "What if Earth is hopelessly backward and primitive by our standards, and absolutely useless from any standpoint of fighting back against the Cylons?" She stopped rubbing his shoulders and an uneasy expression came over her face, "Don't say that," she said, "Please don't say that Apollo. The hope of what Earth has to give us is the only thing that keeps any of us living. That's why we've come this far, all the way across the galaxy. If we thought Earth couldn't help, we would have stopped and settled on any one of a thousand planets we've passed along the way." "I know," his tone was quiet. "I know. But if my hunch is right, a primitive Earth is what we're going to find." "Why? Why do you think that? Just because an Earth signal comes in on a gamma transmission?" "That's only part of it," Apollo sighed, "You remember that time when you and me, and Starbuck and Cassiopeia went up to the celestial dome and picked up a gamma transmission back then?" "Of course," Sheba smiled, "That Cylon lure. And then you and Starbuck went off to destroy the baseship, and while you were gone, that was when I knew I'd fallen in love with you." He returned the smile and squeezed her hand, "I fell in love with you too, back then." "And then it took that little encounter with the Medullas shortly afterwards to bring us together." "Yes," for a moment, Apollo's mind drifted back to that long-ago memory but he refused to linger on it, "But I never thought that transmission was a Cylon lure." She skipped a beat before responding, "You mean you thought it was from Earth?" "I always thought so. And now today, fourteen yahrens later, we pick up another gamma signal just strong enough to register on the normal communications band. And the direction it came from is the same heading we've been going on ever since that mysterious race of lights gave us the general coordinates for Earth." "I still don't understand why this is convincing you that Earth is a primitive planet." "Remember what we saw on that transmission?" Sheba paused to remember, "An old spacecraft." "By our standards, a very old spacecraft. I did a history scan shortly after that and I found out that it resembled a sub-light craft that was used for the first interplanetary travel within our own star system, about a thousand yahrens ago." "But didn't Boomer tell us that it might have been an intergalactic transmission from a thousand or ten thousand yahrens ago?" Sheba was trying to come up with any kind of question that would dispel his unease. "Today's transmission wasn't intergalactic," Apollo said, "Not if it could be picked up on the normal band. If it's Earth, that means we're getting closer. Really closer. And if the other transmission was from Earth, then that means we're dealing with a primitive society." His wife began rubbing his shoulders again, "I wish you wouldn't worry yourself about this. I have a feeling you're getting concerned over nothing important. Adama's probably right and it's just a signal from a primitive alien race that isn't even human to begin with." "I hope you're right," he murmured as he relaxed in response to her touch, "God, that feels so good." "Does it?" her voice grew into a sensuous purr, "I have a lot more to offer you." He rose and then took her in his arms, "I love you Sheba." They kissed each other and then he gently lifted her and carried her to bed. And for the rest of the night, he put the questions that were troubling him out of his mind. Chapter Two In the fifteen yahrens since fleeing the colonies, the Galactica had left many planets behind her. Some populated by isolated pockets of humanity that had emigrated from the colonies eons ago. Some populated by alien races. Others, totally uninhabitable. And still more that were habitable but desolate. One such planet fell into the last category. Its path had been crossed by the Galactica fourteen yahrens ago. It was a planet of temperate climate, a mixture of desert and rainforest. Totally survivable for any human who might have been stranded there. For one human, it had been home for fourteen yahrens. Ever since he had been released from the Galactica prison barge and left with some basic survival equipment and a short-range communications set. Those who'd known him would never have recognized him today. He was now sixty-five. His face had grown leathery and now sported a full beard as white as his hair. Still, he'd kept himself physically fit, and reckoned that he still had a good many yahrens of life left to him. His name though, was well-known to everyone. It was synonymous with treason. Baltar carefully adjusted his communications set and went through his daily ritual of transmitting a Cylon distress signal. For fourteen yahrens, the hope of one day being rescued by the Cylons was all he lived for. That one day, he could regain his power as a baseship commander and then fulfill his dream of destroying Adama, his hated enemy once and for all. And then, ultimate power would be his. The thought of remorse or repentance for any of the actions that had led him from a seat on the Council of Twelve to a traitor and outcast from his race virtually never entered his mind. No, he'd never regretted selling out to the Cylons. It had been a simple matter of self-preservation. He had learned months in advance that the Cylon peace overtures extended to the hopelessly inept President Adar were nothing but a trap designed to ambush and wipe out all of humanity. And rather than use his information to warn humanity, he'd decided that there was no way the Cylons could be stopped. And so, self-preservation had dictated that he assist the Cylons. It was the only way he could save himself. And in the process, achieve some of the power and glory that had long been denied him in his profession of merchant, by having his own colony Piscera spared for him to rule over as an absolute monarch. Despite his intuition into the treachery of the planned Cylon ambush, Baltar had not counted on the determined ruthlessness of the Empire to destroy all of human civilization. That had meant reneging on the bargain and destroying Piscera along with the rest of the colonies. And he too, had been marked for execution, but a fortuitous stroke of events had managed to get Baltar spared. Recognizing that his perspective as a human offered insights greater than what the robotic Cylon mind could achieve, he'd been given his own basestar to command, so that he could track down and destroy the last remnants of humanity. In the beginning, carrying out the destruction of the Galactica had not been Baltar's intent. When he'd accepted the offer of a baseship command, his anger with the Cylons for double-crossing him with the destruction of Piscera had led him to decide on a secret course of action that would get him back in the good graces of humanity and turn the tables on the Cylons. The plan had involved getting a chance to meet Adama face-to-face, and presenting him with an offer to destroy the home planet of Cylon, which had been left unguarded as a result of the dispersal of all Cylon baseships across the galaxy to look for the Galactica. To guard himself against the possibility of Adama not trusting him, he had arranged the capture of a lone Galactica pilot, who had turned out to be Lieutenant Starbuck, in order to release him later once he'd met with Adama. That last chance to win himself back into favor with humanity had come in a deep tomb of an ancient ruler on the lifeless mother world Kobol. He had confronted Adama and presented him with his offer. But he hadn't counted on Adama coldly turning his back on him because of the Galactica commander's mystical belief in the existence of the thirteenth tribe of humanity on Earth. Desperately, Baltar had tried to argue with Adama, especially since Baltar had always regarded thet tales of Earth as ancient fables, but Adama had been totally implacable, even after seeing Starbuck released. And then, events on Kobol took a turn that effectively ended for all time, any chance of Baltar trying to make any kind of atonment for his past deeds. He had warned Adama that if he didn't put the plan into effect soon, which had required tricking the Cylons into thinking that the Galactica was being led back to the home planet as his prisoner, his machine friends were liable to do something rash. And as Adama continued to ignore him and look about the tomb of the Ninth Lord of Kobol for clues to Earth's location, that was what happened. Baltar's impatient second-in-command, an IL series Cylon named Lucifer had developed his own suspicion that Baltar conceivably could jump ship again if circumstances allowed it, so he had ordered an immediate attack on Kobol, which in the ensuing chaos had left Baltar trapped in the tomb under collapsed debris while Adama escaped. When Lucifer's forces rescued Baltar from the tomb the next day, the human traitor knew that any hope of turning the tables on the Cylons was gone forever. If he was to survive, and if he was to ever attain some kind of power, he would have to irrevocably committ himself to the Cylon cause of destroying humanity with all his heart and soul. It was something he had not really wanted to do, but as far as he was concerned, Adama and his damned mystical obsession with Earth had led him to it. And because of that, his reason for wanting to destroy the Galactica and its Fleet was not just to serve the Cylon Empire, but to extract a personal revenge on Adama for forcing him to become a demon incarnate in the name of survival. But less than a yahren after he'd begun his obsessive pursuit, a mysterious force had lured him away from the safety of his ship. The sudden appearance of mysterious white lights had compelled him to seek out the Galactica under a sign of truce. But his arrival had merely led to his capture and imprisonment in the Galactica prison barge. For the next yahren, he'd languished in his cell wondering if he'd ever receive another chance at fulfilling his dreams of power, glory, and revenge. Then, he'd won his freedom back when he agreed to give Adama intelligence that would enable them to destroy a basestar they'd encountered. In return, Adama had set him free on this planet, a condition he'd agreed to only when he'd been promised a short-range communication set that would give him a faint hope of potential rescue. And now, for fourteen yahrens, he'd sat here and waited. Waited for his last dream of revenge to finally come true. But as the days become months, and the months became yahrens, that dream of revenge became less and less likely. His signals remained unanswered. The endless silence continually baffled Baltar. Surely the Cylons would have long ago visited the region to investigate the disappearance of the destroyed baseship. Why had they never come by? What had happened after all this time? It seemed impossible to believe that he would be fated to spend the rest of his life on this isolated rock. That the pledge he'd made in the last words he'd uttered to Apollo and Starbuck when they'd left him here fourteen yahrens ago, "Our paths will cross again", would be forever unfulfilled. But for fourteen yahrens, that had been the case. He had spent his isolation building a shelter, gathering his food and keeping himself physically fit, never letting the isolation compel him into any pathetic feelings of loneliness or remorse. He knew that he could only survive so long as he kept his desire for revenge fully intact. Baltar finished tapping out the same Cylon distress signal he'd been sending every day for the last fourteen yahrens. And then in exasperation, he gazed skyward as the long yahrens of frustration finally unleashed themself. "Well, are you still out there?!" he shouted, "Are any of you still out there?!" Then, he shook his head and went back to his daily exercises in basic survival. Inside his small hut, Baltar sat on the floor doing his daily regiment of one-hundred sit-ups. In an earlier age, long ago when he had enjoyed a life of wealth and comfort as a member of the Council of Twelve, the thought of daily exercise would have instantly repelled him. He had been used to a comfortable lifestyle of luxury, rich food and fine ambrosia and it had been difficult for him to make the adjustment to the miserable stench of the Galactica prison barge. As a result, when he'd finally won his freedom back, he found himself adjusting to the spartan planet with amazing ease. And in the name of survival, he'd found himself adjusting to a physical fitness program with even greater ease. All for a chance to get your revenge one day, he grunted as he reached a hundred. But when? Just then, his thoughts were disrupted when he heard a sound. A sound he had dreamed of hearing for so long. The sound of a Cylon fighter landing. And then, the sight of three Cylon centurions headed toward him. Ecstatic, Baltar burst toward them, "Centurions!" he cried, "Centurions!" One Cylon reached for his lasergun. But the lead one pushed him back. "Are you the one who sent a Cylon distress signal?" the lead one spoke in that low, mechanical voice that Baltar had yearned to hear for so long. "Yes," Baltar could not conceal his delight, "Yes I did. I have important information that I must give your Imperious Leader." The centurions exchanged glances. "I am in earnest centurions," Baltar went on, "I wish only to help and assist you." "Take him back to the ship," the lead one motioned, "We shall see if you are of any use to us." "Oh I will be," Baltar smiled, "I will be." The Cylon fighter streaked across space at hyper-speed. When it finally slowed down to sub-light, Baltar's mouth dropped open in awe at the sight of the Cylon fleet. Five great basestars. Filled with the capacity to destroy Adama's puny fleet a hundred times over. You will be finished Adama, he thought. Your days are numbered. The fighter landed in the lead baseship. And then, Baltar was marched down a series of corridors until finally, they came to the throne room. "By your command," the lead centurion said. The throne turned around and the Imperious Leader now faced them. "Speak," that powerful voice that belonged to all Cylon Imperious Leaders resonated throughout the throne room. "We have pinpointed the source of the distress signal our satellite picked up. It was sent by this human." "A human sending a Cylon distress signal?" there was bewilderment in Imperious Leader's voice, "Step forward and identify yourself, human." Baltar came forward and kneeled before him, "Great Imperious Leader, it is I, Baltar. Many yahrens ago, I delivered the human fleet to your esteemed predecessor at Caprica, and then I served you as a baseship commander. And now, I am ready to serve you and the Empire again." There was a long indifferent silence before Imperious Leader spoke, "You say you are Baltar. Can you offer proof?" "Ah, yes, yes. My second-in-command was an IL series Cylon named Lucifer. He would remember me." "That will not be necessary," Imperious Leader waved his arm, "I am convinced you are Baltar." There was a pause as two of the three centurions departed, "We have long wondered what became of you. Lucifer informed me that you ran off to the Galactica under the universal sign of truce because you were convinced that a greater threat had entered the region." "A deception perpetrated by the Galactica to lure me into a trap," Baltar said quickly. That was of course, a lie but it was the only explanation he could offer. He'd never been able to account for that bizarre phenomena of white lights. And that mysterious Count Iblis who'd had the same voice as the Imperious Leader. He'd never been able to account for that either. No, he had thought of one explanation to account for Count Iblis, but... and then he pushed it out of his mind as he remembered how ridiculous it seemed. "I was taken prisoner by the Galactica and kept in her prison barge," he went on, "But fourteen yahrens ago, I escaped in one of their shuttles and crashed on a nearby planet, where I have awaited your rescue." Another lie too, but self-preservation dictated that one. "So you have survived," Imperious Leader said, "But of what use could you be to us now?" Baltar was taken slightly aback, "Well, great Leader. I, I know that as I said to you many yahrens ago, I, I think as the humans do and know how they act. I know I can deliver them to---" "That is most unnecessary," Imperious Leader interrupted matter-of- factly. "We have known the Galactica's location for five yahrens now, and have been discreetly tracking her movement." Baltar's mouth dropped open in disbelief, "But Imperious Leader, if, if this is so, why has the final destruction not been mounted?" "The time has not come yet for that. The Galactica is still of use to us in her fugitive state. We shall not launch the final assault until she leads us to her destination. Earth. The lost thirteenth colony of humanity." "Earth?" Baltar frowned, "You share Commander Adama's belief in this lost colony?" "You think it an ancient fable then?" "I have always so believed," the human traitor said as he once again recalled that confrontation with Adama long ago on Kobol when his one effort to atone had ended because of Adama's mystical belief that the hope for humanity lay somewhere far across the universe. "I do not share your opinion," Imperious Leader's retort was mild but it still had a devastating effect on Baltar's psyche. "The Galactica must lead us to Earth. To search for the lost colony ourselves would be too time-consuming." Another silence filled the air, and now Baltar could feel his hair beginning to stand on end. The thought that perhaps being rescued by the Cylons hadn't been such a good thing after all, was now entering his mind. Another memory from long ago suddenly flashed before his eyes. The memory of that moment when Imperious Leader's predecessor had coldly reneged on the bargain they had struck and had two centurions drag Baltar off for execution. But only the Leader's death at the hands of the Galactica at Carillon, and the intervention of the current leader had saved him then. "I will repeat my question then," Imperious Leader broke the silence, "Of what use can you be to us now?" Think fast damn it, Baltar thought. Think fast. "Imperious Leader, you still require the services of one who thinks as a human. To simply follow the Galactica's movements is surely not enough. Your intelligence services surely require the perspective of one who understands the degree of human cunning that, with all due respect, the Cylon mind does not fully comprehend. Another pause, "You reason well with me, Baltar," he said, "But are you truly capable of fulfilling such duties? I seem to recall a time when you pulled your own basestar back and allowed two others to meet their destruction at the hands of Commander Cain and the Pegasus." Baltar tensed himself, "I can surely not be held responsible for the incompetence of two basestar commanders." "Or Commander Cain's brilliance," Imperious Leader seemed to sigh, "You have convinced me Baltar. I shall restore your command to you. Centurion, please have Lucifer summoned here," the last centurion departed. Baltar looked up at the Cylon leader with a wide smile, "I shall do my best to serve you well, Your Eminence." "You shall, my friend," Imperious Leader said, "You shall." And when the Galactica and Earth are finally destroyed, he added to himself, you shall be the last human to be executed. Chapter Three Aboard the Galactica's bridge, Apollo and Adama both stood in front of the navigation board, staring intently at the straight line trajectory in front of the battlestar's path. "We've been on this three-one-six heading for quite some time, and this transmission, wherever it came from, is directly ahead of us." Adama noted. "Yeah," Apollo nodded, trying to sound more upbeat than he had the previous day, "Somewhere out there." "When you think how endless the galaxy can be. And here we are, for the last fifteen yahrens looking for just one isolated spot somewhere," he shook his head, "I sometimes wonder how much more we can take." Apollo uneasily bit his lip. He had yet to share his concerns with his father, and was wondering when the time would be right to do so. Adama turned back to his son, "What other efforts have you made to increase our chances of picking up a clearer transmission." "Boomer's got his makeshift device in the celestial dome in place and I've signed a permanent watch to monitor it. I've also had two stations here on the bridge cleared away of all other traffic and set to the Gamma frequency." "Then all we can do now is cross our fingers and wait," Adama grunted, "I think in the meantime, it best that we continue our normal routine." Apollo let out a mirthless chuckle, "Has any of our routine ever been normal?" His father returned it, "I guess not," and he turned and left the bridge. Just as he left, Starbuck and Troy entered and mounted the steps to the upper deck. "Morning," Starbuck said, "Wish Troy luck today. He's got simulated battle." Apollo smiled at his son, "I'm sure you'll do well." "I'll try to, Dad. I'm anxious to get this all wrapped up." "Yeah, but don't forget we've got a general patrol sweep to take care of first." Starbuck interjected, "You've got to also learn that being a viper pilot means accepting the boring assignments as well." He gave Troy a nudge, "You head down to the launch bay, I'll join you in a centon." "Sure," Troy grinned and left. Starbuck came up alongside Apollo and joined him in staring at the navigation board. "Well?" "Nothing new," Apollo shook his head, "We're just waiting for another transmission that might shed some more light on this." Starbuck tensed himself, "You really think it's going to be bad?" His old friend let out a sigh, "I don't know why, but yes, I think it's going to be bad." "I don't get it," Starbuck shook his head, "You always used to be the optimist with the sunny disposition." "Did I?" Apollo smiled wryly, "I hadn't noticed." Starbuck uneasily exhaled, "Well try not to be so pessimistic, you're beginning to make me nervous. I mean, even if you're right about what you're thinking, does it really make a difference? After all, we haven't been on the run for a long time." "That's the only thing that keeps me from being scared to death," Apollo said, "What if we still were?" Starbuck said nothing as he hitched up his helmet and quietly left the bridge. "Can we get to the battle simulation now?" Troy's eager voice crackled over Starbuck's radio. "Negative Troy, the patrol sweep comes first. Now you know how the procedure for that goes, right?" "Uh, affirmative," Troy tried to hide the disappointment from his voice, "A slow wide arc around the entire fleet looking for possible tracking satellites too small to detect by the Galactica's scanners." "Good, glad to see you've brushed up on that. Now you handle the starboard side of the fleet, and I'll take the port. We'll rendezvous at the rear." "Affirmative that," and with that they hit their turbos and separated. As Troy conducted his search, which as he figured yielded only a blank screen, he was still awed by his surroundings. Every second he spent in his viper was the fulfillment of a childhood fantasy he'd thrived on all his life. And now, he was making it out on his own. He'd finally gotten rid of the hated name 'Boxey' and was on his way to becoming a warrior. The only thing he'd ever dreamed of becoming. But then again, he mused, it would be a long time until he became a full-fledged warrior. There hadn't been a single engagement with the Cylons since he was a child, and for all he knew it could be yahrens before he ever fired his first shot in anger. God, maybe it is a terrible thought, he tilted his helmet, but do I have to wait that long? After all, that had been his other childhood obsession. To kill Cylons. To kill anyone from the evil race that had destroyed the secure childhood home he'd known on Caprica. To kill the ones who'd murdered his mother in cold blood. He could visualize it now. A Cylon fighter approaching him. And then, he pressed the red dot and destroyed it. "Troy, you're too close to that freighter! Pull up! Pull up!" Starbuck's voice urgently crackled. Jolted back to reality, Troy suddenly saw that he'd wandered dangerously close to a lumbering freighter at the tail-end of the fleet. He then pulled back on his stick and cleared the freighter's top by barely a hundred feet. And then, just as he cleared it, his computer scanner suddenly emitted a loud beep. "Hey Troy, that was too close. You've gotta be careful about these things. Now I don't want to have to make you redo these parts of your basic training." Troy didn't respond. He was staring dumbfoundedly at his scanner, which was now silent and blank. "Troy, answer me." "Uh Starbuck," he murmured, "There's something screwy here. When I cleared that freighter, my computer suddenly gave me a reading." There was a lingering silence before Starbuck responded, "Run that by me again?" "I got a readout when I cleared the freighter." "Well it's got to be a computer malfunction. There's no satellite out here. Maybe passing too close to the freighter produced a false reading." "I'm not sure about that," Troy said, "The computer checks out fine." "Hmmm, well logic dictates it could only be a malfunction. But then again," Starbuck chuckled, "I don't operate according to logic." Starbuck eased his viper close to the freighter. Just then, another voice crackled over the radio, "This is the freighter Nebulae. What the hell are you two guys doing? You're scaring the felgercarb out of all of us." "Freighter Nebulae, this is Captain Starbuck. Relax, everything's under control. We're just taking a little look-see." Now, Starbuck hovered just one hundred feet above the Nebulae. And then, suddenly, his computer let out a piercing beep. "Holy Frack," Starbuck murmured, "Troy I'm getting it too. I'll try to lock on to it." he punched several buttons. Then his mouth dropped open in disbelief, "My God," he whispered, "My God." "What is it Starbuck?" "Troy, high-tail it back to the Galactica now. That's an order." "But--" he started to protest. "Get back now, I said!" Starbuck raised his voice. "Yes sir," and Troy hit his turbo thrust and raced back to the battlestar. "Blue Leader to Galactica. Put me through to Colonel Apollo fast!" Seconds later, "What's up Starbuck?" "Apollo, we've got a major crisis on our hands. A very major crisis. I'm at the tail-end of the fleet above the freighter Nebulae and I've," he struggled mightily to say the words, "I've just located a Cylon tracking device." There was a long, stunned silence before Apollo responded. "Is that positive?" "I'm afraid it is." "Well have you had it destroyed?" "Negative," Starbuck grimaced, "Therein lies a problem." Adama had been spending some time with Sheba and his two grandchildren when the word had come from Apollo about the Cylon transmitter. After Sheba had sent Teague and Hera off to the Rejuvenation Center, the commander had asked his daughter-in-law to stay for the briefing session. "Technically I'm violating security by doing this," he said, "But since you happened to be here I don't think it would be fair to keep you in the dark about what else we find out. Besides, I could use some extra input." Several centars later, Apollo, Starbuck, Troy and Dr. Wilker had arrived in Adama's quarters. For a brief moment, Adama contemplated having Athena and Omega present as well, but decided that now was not the time. "Incredible," Wilker murmured as he studied a blow-up picture of the tiny device attached to the Nebulae's hull. "I once worked on a prototype for this kind of device yahrens ago. A micro-satellite for covert intelligence work. You have it programmed to attach itself to the hull of a ship and then it transmits. Totally foolproof because they're imperceptible to anything but short-range detection systems." "And none of us ever figured on having a viper scanner come so close to a freighter," Adama grunted and then looked up at his grandson, "Troy, your lousy flying did us a big favor. We never would have detected it otherwise." "How long do you think it's been here?" Sheba spoke up, "And how far could its transmitting range be?" Wilker shrugged, "Hard to say. We weren't able to perfect a model ourselves. The only way to be sure would be to have Shadrach's demo- team rip it off and examine its inner workings. However, I suspect that there are compelling reasons for not acting so boldly just yet." "Exactly," Adama nodded, "That's why I've had this meeting summoned. Dr. Wilker, I hope you'll forgive me but for the time being you'll have to be excused. There are too many matters to discuss that you don't have security clearance for. But please notify Shadrach and tell him to have his demo-team standing by in case they're needed for operations on the Nebulae." The chief scientist was outwardly stoic and understanding. Inside, his pride was deeply wounded, "I understand Commander." "In the meantime, not a word to anyone." "Of course," Wilker rose and departed. "Our first instinct, I'm sure would be to rip the thing out, but as Dr. Wilker put it, that might be premature." Adama resumed. "I don't see how," Starbuck protested, "Every micron gone by risks our chances of being ambushed sooner or later." "I'd have to agree," Troy chimed in. "That's only true if the thing landed on the Nebulae yesterday," Apollo said, "But if it's been there for a long time, it changes the equation dramatically." "And the only two possibilities are very good or very bad." "You've lost me," Starbuck frowned. "Perhaps the transmitter doesn't have a strong enough range to reach the Cylon fleet," Sheba said, "Then all of our worries would be for nothing." "That would be the good possibility," Adama nodded, "But can any of you ponder the alternative?" Before anyone could speak, the door to Adama's quarters suddenly slid open and an out-of-breath Boomer burst into the room, "Commander please forgive me for barging in, but all of you have to come up to the to the celestial dome and see what's happening." Apollo's ears perked, and his body stiffened. "More transmissions?" Boomer tried to catch his breath, "Dozens of them. Coming in as clear as a bell." Adama suddenly rose from his chair. "If they're what I think they are," Boomer went on in a low whisper, "Then all of our prayers are about to be answered. They all stood on the celestial dome's observation deck, their eyes transfixed on the viewing screen, their mouths open in disbelief at what they saw and heard. "There's no question of it," Adama whispered, "It's Earth. No other human penetration could ever have reached this far." Over and over, a montage of images and transmissions filled the screen. An athletic contest. Entertainment programming. A news broadcast. And finally, a space launch. Apollo was the first to feel the sick feeling in his stomach. And then, the initial elation of everyone else faded away. "But if that's Earth, Commander," Starbuck said quietly, "Then these transmissions have to be very old--" "They're not," Boomer sadly cut in, "They're very recent. No more than a sectar's flight time away from here. Too far to come in clearly on the normal band, but more than enough for up here." "Then this is an accurate depiction of what Earth is like now," Troy's tone was glum. Finally, Sheba took it upon herself to say the obvious aloud, "They're at least a thousand yahrens behind us technologically," she whispered, "That spacecraft they're launching. I haven't seen anything like that since I visited the old aeromuseum on Caprica." "They've never ventured beyond their own moon," Adama said grimly, "They've never encountered an alien race. They don't fight Cylons, they fight..." he struggled to say the next words, "each other." Starbuck let out a sad sigh, "I guess you were right, Apollo." Adama turned and looked at his son, "You knew this?" "I had a suspicion, that's all." Apollo said quietly. Silence filled the deck, broken only by the sound of the Earth transmission. The news broadcast had returned. "....CNN news at this hour. The President is scheduled to address the nation tonight, and is expected to announce the deployment of U.S. troops in Bosnia. The move is not unexpected since the United Nations Security Council voted to authorize force after Serbian troops assassinated the Secretary-General during his visit to the war-torn region last week..." The specific meaning of the words were beyond their comprehension. But the general meaning of them were all too clear. "Fifteen yahrens of running, all to a planet that can't possibly help us fight back against the Cylons," Adama's shoulders sagged, "I feel as if I'm the victim of the greatest cosmic joke of all time." "You couldn't have known, Father," Apollo looked up at him with concern, "You did what you thought was best. In a way, it's partly my fault for not having shared my suspicions with you." "What difference would that have made?" Adama sighed as he turned to head down the ladder, "I'll be in my quarters." "Commander, wait!" Starbuck exclaimed, "With all due respect, this is hardly the time to go off convalescing in self-pity." "Starbuck, you're way out of line," Apollo suddenly grew livid. Adama stopped, smiled grimly and looked up, "No Apollo, he's right. In all this confusion, we've forgotten the matter of the Cylon transmitter." Boomer's head darted up, "Did I miss something?" "Keep this to yourself Boomer, we've found a Cylon transmitter stuck to one of our freighters," Starbuck said, "Right now, the consensus among us is that's it's been there for quite a long time." Boomer went ashen, "But that would mean..." "It means if the Cylons have been picking up the transmitter's signals, then they've probably been stalking us from behind for yahrens." Sheba spoke up, "Just watching and waiting." "Waiting for what?" Troy frowned. Sheba flicked her finger against the viewing screen, "For this," she said, "They've been waiting for this." "My sentiments precisely," Adama nodded, "And now our problem is even more magnified." "We have to turn the fleet away from this heading, Father," Apollo's tone grew urgent, "If we are being tracked by the Cylons, then sooner or later they're going to start picking up these transmissions and we'll be inviting a massacre." "Yes, you're right. See to it immediately. Oh, and another thing. Have a probe launched to Earth and have it bring back all the data it can gather as fast as possible. I need the full information on that planet." "We'll get on that too," Apollo faced everyone in the room and spoke with authority, "Not a word of this is to get out. I hope that's perfectly understood. Get back to your duty stations now and resume your normal responsibilities. We'll have another plotting session when we get more details." God help me, Adama cried out inside as he made his way down the ladder. God help me. "So this is what it's all come to," Boomer was glum as he and Starbuck went down the corridor to the turbo-lift, "A primitive planet and the Cylons about to strike." "There's got to be a way out," Starbuck clamped his teeth on his cigar as tight as he could, "I know it's a bad hand we've been dealt, but we'll figure something out." "A bad hand?" Boomer's eyes widened as they entered the lift, "Starbuck, this isn't a pyramid game. Our backs are against the walls on all sides." "So what's your recommendation, Boomer?" Starbuck shot back, "Surrender to mass execution?" His friend sighed, "I haven't got one. Except maybe prayer." Starbuck let out a grim chuckle as the turbo-lift doors shut. "Well?" Sheba asked Apollo as they made their way to another one of the turbo-lifts. Her husband shook his head in sadness, "Our worst nightmares have come true. Dear God, how I wish I'd been wrong." "What are we to do?" "I don't know," Apollo shook his head, "But we'll find a way. We haven't come this far just to have it finish in a dead end." "I feel frightened," she whispered, "For the first time in my life I really feel frightened." He pulled her close to him, "It's okay," he said soothingly, "It'll be okay. Trust me." Sheba sighed and sadly shook her head, "The last time I heard something like that was when my father said goodbye to me." Apollo said nothing. "Oh hell," she forced herself to smile weakly, "I can't give up yet. I've got to have something to live for. I trust you." He smiled at her, "Coming from you makes it the best thing I could possibly hear now." They tenderly kissed. And then, Apollo reluctantly pried himself loose, "Don't let the children think for a centon that anything's wrong. There's no point in letting them panic. I'll call you when there's another meeting." "See you later," she whispered as she held back the tears, Apollo looked back at her as the doors slid shut. And Sheba could tell that her husband had been unable to hold his own tears back. Chapter Four "It is good to have you back with us, Baltar," Lucifer said pleasantly as Baltar made his way down the corridor. "Thank you Lucifer. It warms my heart to see your loyalty as strong as ever." Felgercarb, Lucifer thought to himself. Baltar was the last person he'd ever wanted to see again. To think that he'd be forced to give up his own command and subject himself to all this again! Mercifully, Imperious Leader had assured him it was only a temporary expedient. "We're continuing to track the movements of the Galactica and her fleet?" "Our communications center is always on constant watch, monitoring her signal." "But how long is the life expectancy of this wondrous transmitter that lets us observe her from so far back?" "We believe it to be indefinitely." "Indefinitely?" Baltar snorted as they entered the throne room, "That's putting too much faith in equipment. Do you have backup contingencies for what happens if the transmissions fail?" "Our contingency is that whenever the transmission ceases, we launch a patrol to the Galactica's last position and reestablish contact." "But until then, you just have the fleet sit and wait?" "Yes." Baltar dimly shook his head and sat down in his command throne, "How you Cylons keep your sanity, I'll never know. Take leave Lucifer, I need time to think." "By your command," Lucifer bowed and prepared to depart. But before the IL Cylon could exit, two centurions entered the room. "Yes?" Baltar spoke up. "Baseship four reports that they have just noticed an unusual phenomena." "Unusual phenomena?" "They appear to be lights of some sort. They moved by rather quickly and were then gone." Baltar frowned and dug his nails inside the arms of his throne chair. That sounded uneasily familiar to him. "Do you wish to investigate this, Baltar?" Lucifer inquired. "No," Baltar spoke tersely and waved his hand, "A simple meteor shower or some other insignificant thing. It is of no concern to us." The centurion nodded and departed. "Will that be all, Baltar?" Lucifer inquired. "Yes," he emphatically motioned his hand, "Leave." When he was alone, the human traitor slowly sucked in his breath. Could it possibly be that...? No. He refused to consider that possibility. That was something he wanted to forget about for all eternity. There were other things that demanded his attention, chiefly his plan to convince Imperious Leader that now was the time to attack. And with that, his plan for revenge might at last becomne a reality. Had Baltar allowed himself to follow his instincts, he would have realized that his hunch about baseship number four's report was absolutely correct. The lights were exactly what he thought they might be. But even that knowledge would never have prepared him for what was being discussed at that particular moment by three of the inhabitants aboard the ship of lights. "It is done," one of the white-garbed figures said solemnly. "We have the done the maximum that is possible in direct intervention," a second one said in equally solemn tones, "Henceforth, our only responsibility is to observe. Further action would constitute interference with free will." "Hopefully our actions will provide the key that is needed," this from the third one, who's voice was much less solemn. But that was because he had been among them for a comparitively shorter length of time and wasn't used to regarding himself as an equal with the others. "Perhaps," this from the first one, who when he had last assumed human form had taken the name John, "But we have no direct control over that. The only thing we can do is insure that no harm comes to Baltar." "Is that really necessary?" the third one asked with a faint trace of disappointment, but John coldly turned on him. "The Cylons are machines with no free will," he said, "The rules that permit us to take this action against them do not apply to any human. Not even to Baltar." The third one sighed, "I'm sorry. I have a tendency to forget myself. I suppose I still have a lot to learn." John smiled back at him with empathy. "Our task here is done," the second one motioned his arm. We must now leave." Aboard the five basestars, the vast crews of robots methodically went about their tasks, performing with the machine efficiency they'd been programmed with eons ago by the race of lizard creatures that no longer existed. The original Cylon race was gone, but their legacy continued to carry out their task of exterminating humanity. However, Cylon robots possessed no individual initiative, and that by far was their greatest flaw. Aboard the number four baseship, the team of Cylons that monitored their reactor propulsion system sat at their consoles and performed their duties. Their monitors were designed to detect any potential dangers in the system. What the Cylon mind never counted on was the possibility of a flaw suddenly developing in the reactor that might not register on their monitors. Such a scenario had just developed on baseship number four. For a number of centars, the Cylon minds monitoring the system simply trusted the positive readout and thought nothing more of it. The mind of an independent thinking human might have been capable of suspecting that something was wrong, but the rigidly programmed mind of a centurion lacked that extra dimension. A centar later, it was too late to correct the problem when it was finally detected. "We have a red alert situation," Lucifer reported to Baltar, "Baseship number four's reactor has suddenly gone critical." "Critical?" Baltar stepped out of his throne, "Can they fix it?" "They are attempting to, but they fear that they might not be able." Baltar's face darkened, "Then have us pull back, you fool!" Lucifer remained motionless. "Well why not?" the human traitor now shouted. "No basestar is authorized to break away from the Main Fleet without the Imperious Leader's approval. We are presently awaiting his instructions." At that moment, a command-level gold-plated centurion entered the room, "Baseship number four reports that their reactor will blow in twenty centons. They are evacuating their fighters and personnel to the rest of us." "Well how soon until we escape the region?" Baltar demanded. "We are proceeding away at sub-light to facilitate the transfer of the fighters." "That won't give us enough time. Have us go to light speed, now!" "Imperious Leader's orders are to wait until all fighters are transferred." "Why?" Baltar raged, "Of what use are a few more fighters when we're liable to lose the whole damned fleet if we're too close to that thing when it blows?" "We cannot disregard Imperious Leader's orders, Baltar," Lucifer said patiently, "To do so is to invite execution." "He'll be executing the lot of us if he doesn't let us pull back at light speed. Do you know the destructive power of a basestar's reactor exploding?" "Approximately three thousand--" "Never mind," Baltar spluttered as he sat down and dug his fingers into the side of his throne-chair. "How soon until this precious transfer can be completed?" his voice dropped to a normal level. "Another fifteen centons. It is imperative that all be saved," the command centurion spoke. "Why?" Baltar was incredulous, "If fighters are lost, then reinforcements can be brought in from Cylon or elsewhere in the Empire." "Out of the question," Lucifer quickly responded, "We are too far out to allow that." "Why?" now Baltar's face contorted, "Since when has the simple transfer of basestar from elsewhere in the Empire been difficult?" Oh dear, Lucifer thought, he's getting much too inquisitive, "Those are not my guidelines Baltar, they are Imperious Leader's." "The Imperious Leader has some very bizarre guidelines." Baltar was silent for only a brief instant, and then suddenly felt a strange burst of inner strength that caused him to draw up to the most authoriatative bearing he had ever assumed. "Lucifer, you are to have us go to light speed now. I will take full responsibility before Imperious Leader. Assuming that he survives this foolish risk he is taking. There is no precise way of computing the specific instant when the reactor blows, so we have not a micron to spare." Lucifer was silent. "I gave you a direct order, Lucifer," Baltar's edge grew more authoriatative and for an instant Lucifer was puzzled. There was something about the way Baltar spoke that he had never heard in the voice before. Whatever it was, it seemed enough to make him realize that it was probably best that he follow the order. Finally, the IL Cylon bowed his head, "By your command." "How long until the transfer can be finished?" Imperious Leader asked the command centurion of his baseship. "Another ten centons." "Very well. Maintain sub-light heading away from baseship number four until the last fighter is aboard." "A word of caution. We might be running a grave risk to our own safety if we do not put enough distance between us and baseship number four. She very well could blow in under ten centons." "The risk is minimal. Continue the recovery." At that moment, another centurion entered the throne room, "By your command Imperious Leader. Baseship number two has left the Fleet at light speed." "Baltar's ship," the Leader was incredulous, "Why has he done this?" "Lucifer reports that Baltar is concerned with the danger potential of staying too close." "It would seem more that the man who sold out his race to save his own life is now engaged in another act of pitiful self-preservation. He is going to cause us to lose some important ships," the displeasure in Imperious Leader's voice was all-too-evident, "When he has rendezvoused with us later, I will want him present in my chambers at once. I shall deal with this rank insubordination most severely." Suddenly, Imperious Leader's basestar was rocked by the shockwave of a massive explosion. Baseship number four's reactor exploded ten centons earlier than anticipated. The force of the explosion not only incinerated baseship number four, it also knocked out number three's navigational guidance and sent it spiraling on a collision course with number five. The commander of number five had no time to react to the situation. It was a scenario he'd never been programmed to deal with. Number three crashed directly into number five. In an instant, they exploded into a million pieces of space debris. Further out, Imperious Leader's ship escaped destruction. But the shockwave sent the centurions crashing to the floor and nearly knocked Imperious Leader from his throne. When the shockwave subsided, the Cylon ruler blurted, "Damage assessment. Now!" Even further away, totally safe from the blast, Baltar stood by the scanner system in stunned disbelief. "You're absolutely sure?" "Affirmative," the centurion said, "Baseships three and five were destroyed. Only Imperious Leader's survived." "Incredible," Baltar whispered, "More than half the fleet wiped out." He turned to Lucifer, "Guidelines or not Lucifer, the need for reinforcement from Cylon now becomes imperative." "I am afraid that any such reinforcement will not be coming." "Why not?" Baltar demanded, "We are only two baseships now. Those odds are nearly good enough to give Adama a fighting chance for survival. Our task force is no longer strong enough to mount the final assault when that time comes." Lucifer remained silent. Baltar stared at him, "You're holding something back from me," he said, "There's something you and Imperious Leader haven't told me." He stepped closer to the IL Cylon, "Tell me now." Again, there was no response. "Now, damn it!" Oh well, Lucifer thought. What was the point in concealing it any further? He told Baltar....everything. Aboard the Ship of Lights, the three inhabitants who'd been conversing earlier, were able to monitor all of the events that had just happened on each of the baseships. "Everything that we willed, has happened," the reasonant-voiced one said, "Our task now lies finished." "No," the lesser-experienced third one suddenly whispered. John turned to the third one, and had he still been in human form, he would have lifted an eyebrow, "You have sensed something?" "Yes," the third one gravely nodded, "There is another presence monitoring the situation. And now that he realizes what has just happened, he...has plans for something. It...is not related to the pending battle, but...he plans some kind of test. An evil test that could lead to personal tragedy." After a moment's silence, both John and the reasonant-voiced one were nodding as well, "Yes, we sense it too now. It is easy to see why you perceived it first," John said, "But I believe you are well-aware that if he succeeds, there is nothing we can do." "I know," there was sad resignation in the third one's voice, "But if we can monitor that situation, and just be there in case help is needed..." John and the reasonant-voiced one exchanged glances. "We shall monitor," the latter one finally said, "If we are needed as a last resort for help in case he does not succeed, as it was fifteen yahrens ago." "Thank you," the third one seemed relieved, "Thank you." Within a centar, the two surviving basestars had rendezvoused with each other. And it was a thoroughly subdued Baltar that made his way into Imperious Leader's chambers. "You are here to explain your insubordination, Baltar?" the Leader's voice was amazingly even. "I have nothing to explain, Imperious Leader," Baltar's tone was cool and collected, "It is you however, who have not done enough explaining to me." "Explain yourself." Baltar smiled and began to pace about the room, "I could not possibly understand why you insisted on having every basestar stand by and pick up every last fighter from number four. But I understand it now. You have a desire to maintain a maximum fighter force for the final assault on humanity," he chuckled, "Unfortunately, you seemed to forget that basestars carry a higher priority." "Do not taunt me further, Baltar, it is within my power to have you executed," Imperious Leader raised his voice. "I think not," Baltar raised his voice to an equal level. "I need only remind you that I am the only one who had enough sense to see how stupid your stand-by order was, and that it was an invitation to mass destruction. And believe me Imperious Leader, it has made quite an impression on the crew of my ship. Any punitive action you might take toward me would be viewed most unfavorably by them. Particularly when you have already given them enough cause to doubt the wisdom of your leadership." He then paused for effect, "I know the reason why you won't be receiving reinforcement from Cylon, and why you deemed it so essential to save every last fighter when you learned you were about to lose a baseship." Imperious Leader stared down at him, "You know the full story then," it was a statement, not a question. "Indeed I do," Baltar smiled menacingly, "But we shall discuss the particulars of that another time. For now, you and I must plot a new strategy, now that your ship and mine are all that's left to finish off the Galactica." The Cylon ruler sighed with resignation, "Very well Baltar," he said, "We shall talk." Chapter Five "First order of business," Adama said, "What to do with the Cylon transmitter on the Nebulae's hull. Since we're all agreed that it's been there a long time, then the potential danger we invite by removing it is that it will force the Cylons to launch a patrol to pick up our scent again. And that would mean the Cylon patrol would have a chance of getting close enough to pick up some of the Earth transmissions." "But they wouldn't be able to decipher a gamma transmission on their bands. Not without special equipment," Starbuck noted. "They'll get something they'll want to analyze very closely," the Commander responded. "Well I'm not really certain that leaving the damn thing on makes better sense," Starbuck was adamant, "Granted, it would probably keep the Cylons on a leash for a while longer, but I have a feeling they'd begin to suspect something funny was afoot when they start noticing that our fleet is traveling in a wide circle in space, and they'll start wondering just what it is we're hiding at the center of it all." "I think Starbuck's right Father, because until we figure out what to do with regard to Earth we've got no choice but to go in a wide circle around the Earth system," Apollo added. "I'm reserving judgment on Earth until our probe sends back the full data on Earth history, culture, and population," Adama said, "So you're right about maintaining a circuitous heading. I take it that you think we should destroy the transmitter and hope that we can elude the inevitable Cylon patrol?" "I think it's worth a shot," Starbuck said, "If we catch a lucky break we might not only elude the Cylons, they'll move on well past the Earth system and never turn back. And don't forget, there's still the possibility that the Cylons aren't picking up these signals and don't really know where we are anyway." "I don't like to deal in lucky breaks Starbuck," Adama was firm. "I understand Commander, but right now that's the only course of action that has even a remote chance of giving us a positive outcome." Adama leaned back in his chair and turned his gaze toward his daughter-in-law, "You've been silent throughout this briefing Sheba. What do you think?" Sheba wearily shook her head, "I'm sorry, I'm just not sure. I don't see what help I can offer." "Oh come now Sheba. I know you haven't been an active warrior for yahrens, but you still think like one. And you're the daughter of the one man who knew how to surmount impossible odds. Put some of that heredity to use." She smiled weakly. She knew Adama was trying to brighten her spirits, but the mention of Commander Cain, who'd never come back from that last battle, only deepened her inner agony. "Well," she cleared her throat, "I think probably I'd have to go along with Apollo and Starbuck. If the Cylons do respond, it won't be a major attack. But if we wait then it could be we'll be inviting the one battle we've been trying to avoid for all these yahrens." "You really think so?" "Yes I do." Adama exhaled slightly, "Very well then. We'll see what happens by removing it. Apollo, tell Shadrach to get his demo-team over to the Nebulae immediately. Starbuck, meet with the squadron commanders and make arrangements to have them operate in round-the-clock shifts at the rear of the Fleet. That way, we can head off anything that comes our way, fast." Apollo and Starbuck nodded and left. Sheba started to follow them out. "Don't go Sheba," Adama said gently, "I'd like to talk to you alone." "Sure," she resumed her seat. Her father-in-law let out a sigh, "Sheba I'm sorry if I upset you a moment ago when I mentioned your father. That wasn't my intent." "I know it wasn't," she whispered, "It's just...I think about how hopeless this all seems, how it's the type of scenario he used to thrive on. And then I keep remembering how he never returned and..." "I know," Adama's tone grew more soothing, "I know. I've been thinking a lot about him too. Somehow, I think if he were here he would have found the answer." He leaned forward, "Sheba, when your father disappeared, I remember how I said I wanted to make you part of my family. Have we--" he broke off, unable to find the right words. But she understood what he was thinking and she immediately rose and took his hand, "Oh no," she shook her head, "God no, I've never thought any less of you. You and Apollo overfilled the emptiness in my life. I've always been grateful for what you've done for me right from the beginning. She choked back a sob and went over to the window, "I don't ever yearn for the life I had with him on the Pegasus. I just wish I could know once and for all what happened to him," she sighed, "In the early yahrens, I used to think for sure that he was still alive. That Starbuck was right when he said that he probably just headed out to deep space like last time. And, oh God I know how horrible that Count Iblis person was, but I remember how he once told me to my face that I'd see him again someday. I've never been able to figure out whether that was just an empty promise to gain control of me, or if he was sharing something he actually knew." Adama tensed himself as the memory of the mysterious Count Iblis returned to him. The evil outcast from the great ship of white lights who'd nearly gained control of the Galactica, and of Sheba's soul, but had been thwarted under circumstances that had been blotted from Apollo's, Starbuck's and Sheba's memories, and been unable to share with Adama. Along with those blotted memories included their realization of Iblis's ultimate identity. "As time went by, I got less optimistic," Sheba went on, "And I guess for the most part, I'm pretty much convinced that he was killed in that engagement with the baseships. The only thing though, was that I could never be 100 percent sure either way. And so I always had a little bit of room in my mind to have hope that he survived. It was something to believe in...something like...well like having the hope of Earth to believe in as a place that would end our nightmare. God, I don't know how many times I've put Teague and Hera to bed by telling them stories about how wonderful Earth will be for all of us." Adama rose and came up behind her. "And now," she wiped away a tear, "Now we've found out that Earth can't help us. It's a shattered dream. And I don't know if there's anything left to have hope for. And the worst thing about my father is just not being able to ever know what happened to him. Nothing to make it final." "It's okay Sheba," he held her with paternal affection, "I understand how you feel. I've had that same feeling of helplessness many times, and I'm feeling it now too. I'm sure all of us are. But we're going to do all we can." He smiled at her, "Ever since you and Apollo were sealed, I've hoped I could learn to think of you as if you were my own daughter. And I'm glad you've been able to think of yourself as my daughter. But for now, and don't let this upset you, I need you to be your father's daughter and show some of that fighting spirit of his. You're the nearest thing to him we'll ever have." "I'll try to," Sheba returned his smile, "I've already promised Apollo. I'll do my best to help." "Good. You've given me two beautiful grandchildren and I want to make sure that they'll still have a future to grow up in." They exchanged a father-daughter kiss and she then departed. Adama then slowly made his way to the window and stared out into the vast infinity of space, as if he were trying for the first time in fifteen yahrens to look back and contemplate on all the things that had been left behind them. "Oh Cain," he whispered, "Oh Cain how I wish you were here to give us another miracle." In the briefing room, Starbuck had gathered all of the other squadron commanders, Boomer, Jolly, Bojay, Greenbean and Dietra, to inform them of the general situation and to plot strategy. He did not mention though, the discovery of Earth. "So that's the situation," Starbuck finished, "It's very bleak, so after fourteen yahrens of no combat, we'd better make sure none of us are rusty." "That might be asking a little too much, Starbuck," Jolly said, "Seventy percent of all pilots have never been in a combat situation, and at least a third of the men in Green Squadron haven't gone through full battle training." "It's even worse in Silver Spar," Bojay added, "Half of my men are new recruits from within the last two yahrens." "And Gold Cluster Squadron's not even on-line yet with a full capacity of recruits," this from Dietra, the first female pilot in Galactica history to rise to the rank of Squadron Leader. Starbuck tried to conceal his exasperation, "Well that's just too bad, because you're all going to have to make due with what you've been able to accomplish up to now. And I don't want to hear anymore felgercarb from you or any of your pilots about how undertrained they are. Is that understood?" When there was no response, the Squadron Commander smiled thinly, "Good. Now here's the order of business. Each squadron will patrol the rear guard of the Fleet in twelve centar shifts, and watch for any sign of a Cylon patrol that will be trying to reacquire our signal. If a patrol is detected on your scanner, you're to ignore it and hope that they won't notice you. Our best hope is that the Cylons will bypass us and we'll have lost them for good." "Pretty remote chance of that," Greenbean snorted. "Then by all means Greenbean, give us your own Master Plan," Boomer said sarcastically enough to cause Yellow Leader to slink back in his chair. "Blue Squadron will man the first shift," Starbuck continued, "The rest of you go according to squadron seniority. All pilots not on patrol will remain on Yellow Alert status until further notice," he then skipped a beat, "That's all." Slowly, the squadron leaders made their way out. Boomer chose to linger in the room so he could talk to Starbuck alone. "I guess we shouldn't be too hard on them," he said, "It's been too long for all of us. The last fourteen yahrens lulled us into thinking we'd never see a Cylon again." "Yeah, I guess it does seem like a bad dream from the past," Starbuck grunted, "The past closes in on us just when we find out that there's no future for us either. At least, not the future we were hoping for." "What if we do get lucky?" Boomer speculated, "If the Cylons do bypass us, where does that leave us with regard to Earth?" "I've been trying to figure that out myself, and I keep getting the same thing." "Yeah?" Starbuck flashed a characteristic smirk, "A blank screen." Together, they left the briefing room. "Blue Squadron reporting," Starbuck radioed a centar later, "We're beginning the first patrol shift at the rear of the Fleet." "Okay Starbuck, get set for the long haul," Apollo responded, "Has Shadrach and his demo-team gotten underway?" "Their shuttle just moored alongside the Nebulae. They should have it all wrapped up within a centar." "Keep me advised," Apollo put his headset down and went back to the navigation board. "Apollo?" Athena looked up at him from her console. He turned around, "Yeah?" "Apollo," she rose and came up to him, "What is going on? Why are we having round-the-clock patrols at the end of the Fleet? And why did you have us change course? And now, a centar ago Boomer comes up to me with this faraway look and tells me to shut down the gamma frequency monitors." Apollo sighed and shook his head, "I can't tell you now, Athena. Later." "Why can't you tell me?" Athena demanded, "I'm your sister. I need to know if something horrible is bothering you." "Athena," Apollo kept his voice gentle, "Right now, you're a lot better off not knowing. But trust me, I'll fill you in later." His sister then abruptly turned and left the bridge, clearly miffed by his brush-off. For an instant, Apollo considered going after her, but then chose not to. Right now, there was just too much else on his mind. He'd already seen the agony Sheba was going through, and he didn't know if he could deal with the same thing happening to another member of his family. He put his headset back on, "Shadrach, this is Colonel Apollo. Have you started?" "Just got my team in place Colonel. We have to make sure it's not booby-trapped, so it'll be a little while." "Take your time." On the Nebulae's outer hull, Shadrach's three-man demolition team went about their task with careful precision. The Maintenance Chief would have had it no other way. After all, it wasn't said for nothing that was "the Master Builder, Master Craftsman, Master Technician, and Master Pain-In-The-Rear-End." Whenever anyone in one of Shadrach's teams stumbled in training, it meant he'd have to start from the beginning of the program, which sometimes meant an extra six sectars work before receiving a single cubit of pay as a technician. No wonder then, that there were very few volunteers to enlist in Shadrach's training program. But that didn't faze the Master Builder in the least. "All it means is that I never have to waste any time with the obvious incompetents. If I get someone who's willing to learn by my standards, then I know I'm getting only the best." And as Shadrach watched his team at work, he felt absolute confidence that only the best were in action. "How's it look?" he radioed to the lead member. "Radon core," Malek, the senior member of Shadrach's team responded, "This is going to take a while. If we just yank the thing off, it's gonna blow the Nebulae to spacedust." "Okay, break out your microscraper. If possible, we'll try to loosen it and let it float off." Malek removed the device from his kit and went to work. "Steady Malek," Shadrach cautioned. "It's coming off." "Not too fast." "Coming...there!" Malek exclaimed "It's off." "Okay," Shadrach sighed, "Kip, get it packed away. I want to examine it up close in the lab." "Okay, I..." suddenly a piercing sound emitted from the device. "What the hell is that?" Shadrach raised his voice. "Holy Frack, I think there's a delayed rig on it!" Kip shouted. "Get rid of it!" the Senior Technician barked, "Use your laser!" "Felgercarb, where..." Kip seemed to fumble with his kit. "Procedure nine, Kip! Procedure nine!" "Okay, lettin' it go!" And then, the young technician adjusted the portable laser sewn into his spacegloves and controlled by pressing the fingertips. A blast emitted from it and incinerated the micro-satellite with barely a tenth of a micron to spare. "Got it!" Kip was visibly trembling inside his space suit, "Just in time." "All right," Shadrach sighed, "Pack your things up and let's get inside." The Master Builder smiled and made a mental note to have a few choice words with Dr. Wilker later on about "too many procedures for booby-traps." Aboard the Galactica, Adama had joined Apollo on the bridge. "Just think of it Apollo," Adama grunted as he consulted the navigation board, "Somewhere at this very micron a Cylon technician is probably noticing that they just lost contact with us. And they're going to act, and we have to sit tight and pray that we'll have eluded them by the time they reach this section of space." "Like Starbuck said, it's the only positive thing that can come from all this." "I wouldn't call it positive," Adama amended, "It only means continuing this godforsaken status quo of endless running and evasion," he tilted his head toward him, "How soon until that probe completes its mission?" Apollo shook his head, "It's going to be half a sectar before it's gathered enough information for us to digest. To cut down on time, I had Shadrach's team rewire its components so it can transmit its full data directly to us." "Doesn't that run the risk of the Cylons picking up those signals?" "No. They'll be coming in scrambled over the old com-link Alpha frequency. That hasn't been any use to us ever since the Pegasus disappeared." "The Pegasus," Adama whispered forlornly, "That reminds me. I just had a long talk with Sheba and I would strongly suggest that you not let this whole thing overwhelm you." Apollo smiled weakly, "I'll do my best." "In a situation like this Apollo, even our best might turn out to be substandard," he looked back at the screen, "They're out there somewhere behind us. And my gut feeling is that we might be on the verge of something where going way beyond our best capabilities may be the only thing that can save us." Chapter Six Imperious Leader and Baltar were still conferring in the former's chambers when they were interrupted by a centurion. "By your command. We have lost our signal to the Galactica." "When did this happen?" Imperious Leader demanded. "Within the last few centons." "Well Imperious Leader, it would seem as if everything else that has happened today has not been enough," Baltar smiled contemptuously, knowing that the Leader no longer possessed the ability to respond to his taunts. "Launch a patrol to reacquire contact," Imperious Leader merely ignored it. "I would also suggest launching a patrol from my ship as well," Baltar said, "When they reach the last known position of the Galactica, they can then break off into separate arcs." The Leader nodded, "A wise suggestion. Return to your ship immediately and we will coordinate our intelligence later." "Of course," Baltar bowed stiffly, "By your leave Imperious Leader," his voice dripped heavy with sarcasm and he then departed. Within centons, a patrol of ten ships each from the two surviving basestars had launched and were on their way. For the first time in many yahrens, the dormant state of war between human and Cylon was about to be renewed. "Okay Blue Squadron, don't fall asleep. Just thirty centons more until Silver Spar relieves us," Starbuck said. "I hope Bojay and his merry band have a higher threshold of boredom than I do," a young flight sergeant named Orion said, "Geez is this how it was in the good old days of constant watch for Cylon ambushes." "Nothing good about them Orion, and don't ever forget it," Starbuck mildly retorted. "And let me just say this to all you fresh rookies who've grown up listening to all the felgercarb war stories Boomer and I used to tell you about lousy Cylon pilots. Taking them on isn't easy. Cylon pilots may be dumb, but they always come in fast. And they have just as much a chance of killing you as you have of them. Always remember that." After a brief silence, "Hey Starbuck?" "Yeah Troy?" "My long range scanner's getting something pretty far out. Two, four, I don't know how many ships entering gamma six quadrant." "What's their heading?" "Um...they don't seem to be headed toward the Fleet. Their current bearing will carry them well clear of us." "Hold your position Troy, and keep monitoring them." "We're not gonna engage them?" a note of disappointment crept into Troy's voice. "Affirmative. We only engage if they head toward us. We're not going to tip them off as to our location." The lead Cylon fighter was busy monitoring the scanners and communications band as they plodded on. "Picking up a transmission on gamma frequency. It is very garbled," pilot number one said. "Continue monitoring," the command pilot responded, "Maintain this heading until it becomes clearer." "Twenty of them altogether," Troy said, "They're still on that heading, vector three-one-six. They're definitely gonna stay well clear of the Fleet." "Good, they---" Starbuck suddenly broke off, "Wait a centon Troy, give me that heading again." "Three-one-six. Starbuck what--" then Troy stopped short as a sudden realization came over him, "Holy Frack." "Attention Blue Squadron! Pursue and engage those contacts! Divert them from that heading immediately, and try to take out as many as you can!" Starbuck shouted, "Go to turbos now!" "Blue Squadron just went off our scanner, Commander," Major Omega looked up from his console, "Just before they left the quadrant, they went to turbos." "Dear God," Adama whispered, "It's started." "Is the transmission any clearer?" the command centurion of the lead fighter inquired. "Negative," pilot number one said. "Stay on this heading." "Okay squadron, there they are. Just think of it like another go- round in the simulator. Engage and destroy now!" Starbuck led them in and opened fire, taking out two fighters in the rear. "Colonial vipers attacking from our left," pilot number two warned. "All fighters separate and engage." The two squadrons broke away from their straight line heading, veering off in different directions. The tiny quadrant of space had now become a shooting gallery. Incredible, Starbuck though with irony. After fourteen yahrens it still came so naturally to him. Just like riding an old hover-scooter. He fired again and scored his third kill. But then, to his left, he saw the viper of young flight sergeant Orion incinerated by Cylon fire, and he remembered that this was no time to engage in idle thoughts. For Troy, there was only one idle thought. Scoring his first kill. Fulfilling at long last, his greatest obsession since childhood. And now, there it was. A big Cylon fighter right in front of him, locked onto his attack computer. He fired and scored a direct hit. Sweet felgercarb, he grinned, this was so easy. The battle raged for five centons. What started as a 20 to 10 Cylon advantage was now down to 12 to 8. "Cease engaging the Colonial vipers," the command centurion ordered, "We must return and report to Baltar." "All fighters disengage and retreat. Return to baseships immediately." "They're retreating," Starbuck said, "Okay. I think it's time we head back too." "Just a micron Starbuck, I've got one more in my sights." "Let it go Troy, it's not worth the risk." "This is no risk at all. I'll have him atomized in no time." "Troy--" but before Starbuck could go any further, Troy had gone to his turbo boost. "Oh for the love of...All fighters return to the Galactica now. I'll catch up with you in a centon." And then, Starbuck hit his own turbo boost and prayed that he wasn't going to be too late. "One Colonial viper is pursuing us." "Destroy it and proceed." Okay, just another micron, Troy thought as he watched his scanner, and fire! He fired. And missed. And them the Cylon fighter did a full reverse maneuver. Troy suddenly felt the sickening sensation as he realized that he was now the pursued instead of the pursuer. He felt his viper rocked by the force of two explosions that missed him. Oh frack, he thought. I really asked for it. He tried a few maneuvers but he had yet to go through full-dress battle simulations. He couldn't shake it. The next laser blast from the Cylon fighter scored an indirect hit on the underside of Troy's viper, throwing a shower of sparks inside the cockpit. Oh God, he thought, oh God. "Hang on Troy, I've got him in my sights," Starbuck's voice came through, and then a laser blast destroyed the Cylon fighter behind Troy. "Okay Troy, now you get your tail turned around now!" "Okay, I'm a little bit damaged but--" "I'll escort you in, don't worry," Starbuck strained his head to look back, "The rest of them are withdrawing. Be grateful for that." "Yeah," Troy exhaled, "I think I can make it back on half-speed." "Well try to show some of that self-doubt the next time you think about tackling a Cylon fighter all by yourself, when you haven't even finished your full training," Starbuck's tone was gruff. Troy was to embarrassed to respond. "Ordinary measures would dictate that I have you grounded for a sectar for disobeying an order from you squadron commander. But since this is your first combat flight, I'm gonna let it go just this once, Troy. Now have you learned your lesson?" "Yes sir," Troy mumbled. "Again!" Starbuck barked. "Yes sir, Captain Starbuck, sir!" Troy responded with loud disciplined precision. "Good," Starbuck softened his tone, "Blue Leader to Galactica, returning with the last brave member of our patrol." "Meet me on the bridge when you get in Starbuck," Apollo's voice crackled, "I need a full report on what you guys ran into." "Will do." "Oh and ah, Starbuck," Apollo paused, "How'd Troy do?" "Came through terrific Apollo, he scored his first kill." "Terrific," a note of paternal affection crept into his voice, "Tell him I'm proud of him." "I'll let him know. See you in ten centons," Starbuck then switched channels, "Hear that Troy? You did your father proud." After Starbuck heard only silence, he softened his tone even further, "Look Troy, don't let it bother you. If I sounded rough it's because when you see someone you've been close to for a long time, get that close to death...well you know what I mean, don't you?" "Yeah," Troy exhaled, still shaken from the ordeal, "I'll try not to screw up next time." "Don't worry about that," Starbuck said casually, "There most definitely will be a next time." Later, aboard the Galactica. "Your orders were to attack them only if they were on the Fleet heading," Adama was not pleased, "By ambushing them, they now can pinpoint us for a full-scale attack." "Commander, there was a very good reason for engaging them. They might not have been headed in the Fleet's direction, but they were headed toward Earth." Adama stiffened slightly, "You're sure of that?" "Vector three-one-six," Starbuck pointed to the board, "They were on a direct heading." Adama bit his lip, "Is it possible they were close enough to start picking up Earth transmissions?" "I wouldn't know." "Well that settles one thing," Apollo said, "We can forget about trying to elude them any further. We have to engage them when they come back." "Agreed," Adama sighed, "Bring the Fleet to a state of red alert preparedness. Increase our patrols to two squadrons and have all others standby. I'll be in my quarters." But when Adama returned to his quarters, he found someone already waiting for him. "Hello Athena," he said, "What are you doing here?" "I'm off-duty," his daughter was visibly annoyed, "And I need to talk to you. I need to know what's been going on." "Athena please," he sat down behind his desk, "I need to concentrate." "Am I the only one in your family who gets left in the dark?" she demanded, "I see nothing but craziness going on all around me and Apollo gives me a brush-off by telling me I'm better off not knowing. Not knowing what?" "Apollo is Deputy Fleet Commander," he said gently, "You ought to know better than that. You don't have a high-level security clearance. I haven't even filled in Omega on everything and he's ahead of you in the chain of command. " "I know that," she held her ground, "Only why is it that Sheba, who hasn't been a warrior for ten yahrens, gets to sit in on planning sessions? You think it's all right for your daughter-in-law to know everything but not your daughter?" "Athena," her father's expression grew pained, "You'll know everything in time. The best thing you can do for me is to do the things you're best at," he leaned forward, "In all likelihood, there's going to be a major attack real soon. Now you happen to be an excellent communications officer, and I'll be needing you to help keep the Fleet together. Does my telling you this make you fell better?" "Not really," she said, "Because I know there's a lot more you're not telling me. But I guess all I can do for now is to do what you say," she turned and departed. Adama shook his head with sadness. Athena had always been the most insecure of his children. And ever since the Holocaust and Exodus, she'd steadily grown more and more withdrawn. And less certain about her own sense of self-worth. Maybe things would've been different if she still had Zac. He'd always felt that more than any other event, the sudden death of her younger brother had traumatized her the most. Though she was Apollo's twin, she'd always been much closer to Zac. With Zac, she'd always been able to serve the role of the protective older sister who did everything she could to help her younger sibling. And Zac, in turn, welcomed the protectiveness Athena gave to him, particularly since he and Apollo never got along. Apollo, in contrast to his twin sister, had always resented the attention Zac received from their mother as the baby of the family. Athena's protectiveness toward Zac deepened when he graduated from the Academy and was assigned to the Galactica. Throughout his service, she served the role of confident to him, guiding her brother through the difficult to transition to life aboard a battlestar, and deepening the bond between them. Then, without warning, Zac became the first victim of the Holocaust. He and Apollo had been on patrol and ran into the first wave of the Cylon ambush. And Zac told Apollo to not wait for him to guide his wounded ship back to the Galactica. It was imperative Apollo get back first to warn the Fleet. But in doing that, Zac left himself totally defenseless. And just short of the Galactica's landing bay, Zac's ship was destroyed. Adama had seen it happen from the Galactica bridge. So had Athena. And he never forgot the sight of her breaking down and weeping in hysterics. There were more tragedies to follow. The death of her mother in the raid on Caprica. The break-up of her engagement to Starbuck. But Adama always sensed that Zac's death was the one tragedy that she'd never come to terms with. Her mother's death she could live with, and the break-up with Starbuck she probably realized was largely her own doing. Indeed, Athena had all but admitted that Zac's death was why she'd broken the engagement. Having just lost someone she'd deeply cared for, she couldn't bear the thought of becoming sealed to someone whose life could be taken away just as easily. The thought of being plunged into the same dark abyss of grief if she had married Starbuck and lost him, had been too much for her to consider. And now, fifteen yahrens later, he could see why the memory of Zac lingered inside her. He knew that because Athena would probably never rise any higher in the chain of command, he could never be as direct with her as he was with the others. And while all that was going on, she didn't have Zac any more to play the role of authority figure to. She hadn't even gotten the chance to become a substitute mother for Boxey after Serina's death, since Apollo's subsequent marriage to Sheba had removed that possibility. And so Adama had watched with sadness as Athena withdrew deeper and deeper into her shell. Performing her duties as a warrior with supreme efficiency and competence, showing enough outward pleasantness with her immediate family, but totally unwilling to make new friends with anyone else. When this was all over, he hoped he could finally have the heart-to- heart talk he'd never had with her, and try to break down the barriers inside her. Assuming that they were still alive when it was all over. Exhausted from the long patrol and the engagement, Starbuck dropped onto his bed and tried to catch some much needed rest. He knew he'd be needing it for everything that lay ahead. He glanced over at the picture of his wedding day that lay on the table. There he was, decked out in his dress uniform, flanked by his beautiful bride Cassiopeia on the right, and by his father Chameleon on his left. The long-lost father he'd never known until their paths had crossed one day, when Starbuck had saved Chameleon from being murdered by a group of Borellian Nomen. At the time, it had seemed that Chameleon's story that he might be Starbuck's father, had only been a decoy to save him from the Nomen he'd doublecrossed. But when Cassiopeia had run genetic tests on him the results had been positive. Chameleon was indeed Starbuck's father. Separated from his infant son when a Cylon attack on Caprica had destroyed the agro-city Umbra, and cut-off scores of children from their parents, destroying all records in the process as well. The infant Starbuck was one of the many orphans of the disaster, cut off from his mother who'd been killed, and from his father who'd barely escaped with his life, but who'd suffered a long spell of amnsesia that prevented him from trying to locate his son. It had not been until the wedding day though, that Starbuck finally learned the truth about Chameleon. When Chameleon had learned the results, he'd sworn Cassiopeia to secrecy, because Starbuck had already vowed to resign his commission in order to spend time with his father and catch up on all the lost years. Not wanting to see his son sacrifice his whole career for that, Chameleon had told Cassiopeia to lie about the test results. But on the day Starbuck and Cassiopeia became sealed, Chameleon finally found the strength to reveal the truth to his son. And Starbuck never forgot the joy and elation he'd felt on that day at having gained both a wife and a father. It seemed as if life would never be bad for him again. But Starbuck soon learned the painful lesson that life's little joys are fleeting. Chameleon died of natural causes two yahrens after the wedding. And then, six yahrens later, he'd lost Cassiopeia. He never talked about that black time in his life with anyone. But it was still quite vivid in his mind as if it were yesterday. Under Dr. Salik's tutelage, Cassiopeia had advanced from being a simple med- tech to a full-fledged doctor in-training. Her mentor and teacher Salik had already made it clear to her that he was looking at Cassiopeia to succeed him as the Chief Medical Officer of the Fleet. She had come so far in her medical career that it seemed impossible to believe that an ugly reminder from a past career would suddenly intrude on them. It had began very innocently. After an evening together on the Rising Star, Starbuck had noticed his wife complaining of a headache. But after only a day she'd tried to brush it off and go back to her duties in the Life Station. Within a sectan though, the headaches had turned into persistent fatigue and fever. It finally reached the point where despite her protests that it was only a simple virus, Dr. Salik had ordered her to undergo an extensive examiniation. After analyzing Cassiopeia from her Life Station bed, a grim-faced Salik had emerged and asked to speak to Starbuck alone. That had triggered an alarm inside him, but as he stepped to the other side of the room, nothing prepared him for the conversation that followed.... "Starbuck," it was a struggle for Salik to look him in the eye, "I don't know how to tell you this, especially since I think of Cassiopeia as if she were my own daughter." "How bad is it?" Starbuck demanded. The doctor lowered his head and sighed, "She's dying Starbuck." There was a look of stunned shock on the usually brash warrior's face that Salik couldn't bring himself to look at. "She's dying," Salik repeated quietly, "And there's nothing I can do to save her." "What do you mean there's nothing you can do?" Starbuck could only think of anger to cover his shock. "Starbuck," Salik finally managed to look at him, "She has Gamma Syndrome." "And what the frack is Gamma Syndrome?" Salik's shoulders sagged in regret, "Something that could have been treated if we'd had the type of equipment here that we had back in the colonies. It's a disease that never develops when it's first contracted, because the virus usually remains in a dormant phase for up to yahrens. But once the dormant phase ends, and it enters the bloodstream, it becomes an untreatable cancer. If we'd detected it before the symptoms began, then it would have been fine. But it's been spreading for a sectan now. There's nothing we can do." This was much too fast for Starbuck's mind to comprehend, "How could she have contracted it?" he could think of nothing else to ask. Salik skipped a beat, "It's spread through sexual contact, Starbuck." The anger and shock on his face now twisted into confusion, "Are you trying to tell me that....?" "What I'm trying to tell you, is that when Cassiopeia was still a socialator, she came into contact with a gentleman carrying the virus," the doctor said pointedly, "And Starbuck, there's a real danger that you've become a recipient of the dormant virus too. We'll have to get it flushed from your system right away or else it's going to kill you too." At that particular moment, Starbuck could have cared less that he was possibly in danger as well. "I want to talk to her," he started moving toward the room where her life pod was. "Starbuck," Salik protested, but the brash warrior had already walked away. He entered the room and looked down at her. Tubes were running from her nose and her arms. Her blonde hair was slightly dissheveled, and there was a heaviness under her eyes. "Cass," he whispered with anguish as he squeezed her hand. Her eyes glanced up to him and she managed to smile weakly, "I wanted him to tell you," her voice was faint, "I'm sorry, I guess you should have heard it from me." "Cass," Starbuck was trying to hold back the tears as he kept squeezing her hand, "How could this happen? How?" Cassiopeia dimly shook her head, "After Cain disappeared, I was so upset, I let myself get careless with a gentleman I met in a Caprica City nightclub. I didn't take any of the normal precautions that all socialators were always bound by law to observe. I'd heard...rumors before of what Gamma Syndrome was, but I never gave it any thought because I never saw that man again. And by the time I met you and started a whole new career, I... forgot all about it. Gamma Syndrome isn't something we're trained to look out for now because.... people are more careful now than before the Holocaust." Starbuck shook his head as he tried to ponder what she was saying. It didn't make any sense to him because it seemed so unfair. After all that Cassiopeia had been through to make a new life for herself, and after all she had so freely given to him, it seemed too cruel to think that she could be taken away while she was still so young. "Starbuck," his wife drew her voice up to the strongest tone she could muster, "I want you to look at me and listen carefully to what I have to tell you." Starbuck brushed away the first tear that had formed as he looked into her heavily lined eyes. "It won't be long before this thing is going to spread and make me virtually incoherent," Cassiopeia said, "So I want you to listen. And if our love and our marriage has truly meant something to you as much as it has for me, then I want you to obey every single thing I'm about to ask you." "Anything Cass," he squeezed her hand more tightly, "Anything." His wife took a breath, "It's too late to save me," she began, "But it isn't too late to save yourself. In all likelihood, I've given you the dormant virus of this disease, and that means you can be treated and cured completely. I want you to get that treatment, now." "Cassie," Starbuck said firmly, "I don't know if I want to go on without you." "Don't give me that felgercarb," her voice suddenly became brusque, "Ever since our relationship started, I've had to live with the danger of you being killed on a mission and having to face the thought of life without you. Well the fates have dictated that it's going to be the other way around. I don't want you to lose the will to live. I want you to go on with your life." "How?" his voice was breaking, "How could I possibly go on? Cass, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I could never enjoy life again." She shook her head with sadness, "Didn't Apollo use to think the same thing after he lost Serina?" The pointed edge of her question left him unable to respond. "It was terrible for him," Cassiopeia went on, "Just as bad is it's going to be for you. But Starbuck, he's already living proof that even you can survive a tragedy like this, too. He's married again, he has two new children. I'm not saying you'd need to do the same thing, but if your best friend could get on with his life, than there's no reason why you can't either." "Cassie, I'm not Apollo," he weakly protested. "No," she smiled again, "You're Starbuck, and you're everything I've ever loved in a man. The Starbuck I love is an incurable optimist who always knows how to make something out of any bad situation. Well if you truly are the man I love, then that's exactly what I'm going to expect you to do after a dignified period of mourning." Starbuck lowered his head. He could think of a thousand things he wanted to say back to her to let her know why it was impossible to envision life without her. But as the impact of her words went through his mind, it was all too clear that none of them could have any kind of meaning for her. "Now when you leave, I want you to take the drugs that will flush the virus from you," her tone again became pointed, "I'm not just asking you to do that, Starbuck. I'm demanding it of you." He finally shrugged his shoulders and let out a sigh of resignation. Even on the point of death, her first concern was with him and his well- being. The same type of selflessness that had first attracted him to Cassiopeia when they'd met aboard the shuttle just after the Holocaus. Despite a badly injured arm, she had insisted on letting others be given medical treatment first. Selflessness and concern for others had always been her code of honor as a socialator, and then as a doctor. And it was even more true of her as a wife. So with all that selflessness, Starbuck cried in silent anguish, why was she now suffering because of the one selfish mistake she'd made in her life? It was clear though, that if he was to honor the values of self- sacrifice that Cassiopeia had lived by, he was going to have to do exactly what she said. As painful as it would be for him, he knew that everything she'd told him was correct. "I'll do it," he kissed her hand, "For your sake, I'll do it." "It's for your sake too, Starbuck." "I love you, Cassiopeia," Starbuck whispered with all the tenderness he could muster. "I love you," she smiled back, "Just knowing that I was able to be your wife is enough to tell me that I had a full and complete life." For the next two centons, he continued to squeeze her hand. He was too emotionally moved to say anything else. Finally, his wife softly commanded, "Go Starbuck. Get that treatment, now." Reluctantly, Starbuck nodded and let go of her hand. When he walked away from her life pod and went back to where Salik was waiting in the next room, it seemed to the doctor as if Starbuck had visibly aged ten yahrens.... That was the last time he ever spoke to his wife. The next day, just as Starbuck began his treatment, Cassiopeia slipped into a coma from which she would never emerge. The medical treatment had done it's job, as the dormant virus of the Gamma Syndrome was flushed from his system. Starbuck's life was spared, but despite Cassiopeia's words to him, he still couldn't help but wonder if it had been worth it. Except for his close friends in the service, he was now totally alone. Deep down he still missed his wife, although he never tried to show it. He missed the loving gentleness she'd provided him for so long that he'd never thought he'd experience in his life. He missed the way she'd always restrain him from wandering back into his old ways of hard drnking and gambling. He missed the conversations he'd have with her every day. And he missed the warmth of her body and the touch of her lips whenver they'd kissed. But he had no regrets about the past. He knew he'd made the right decision in marrying her. As much as he still cared about Athena deep down, he knew that they were an incompatible mix that never would have worked. There were isolated moments after Cassiopeia's death when he'd wondered about possibly renewing his relationship with Athena. But the Athena of today was different from the one who'd first caught his eye so long ago at the Academy. If anything, the long yahrens since had made Athena a hollow shell of her former self, someone he couldn't contemplate having a relationship with at all. His mind returned to the present and he stared at the picture one last time before turning out the light. "Goodnight Cassie," he whispered lovingly, "In a way, you're lucky not to be here." Then he turned out the light and went to sleep. "Okay children," Sheba said gently, "it's time for both of you to be in bed." "Aw Mommy, why do I have to be in bed at the same time she is?" Teague protested, "I'm twice as old as she is." "Whiner, whiner," Hera taunted him. "Be quiet now!" their mother's tone grew cross, "I'll spank you both and I mean it!" They fell silent. They both knew from experience that she meant it. "Now say you're sorry." "I'm sorry Mommy," Teague whispered, "I don't want you mad." "I'm sorry too, Mommy," Hera chimed in. "Now to each other." The two siblings looked at each other with distaste as they mumbled apologies. "Okay you two. Remember to say your prayers before you fall asleep." "Mommy?" "Yes Hera?" "Can you tell me a story about Earth?" Sheba bit her lip slightly but kept her expression normal. "That depends on whether Teague wants to hear it too. Do you?" "I'd rather hear one about Grandpa Cain zapping the Cylons." "Tomorrow," she said quickly, "Now what about a story about Earth?" Teague shrugged his shoulders, "Okay." Sheba then summoned all her strength and slowly told them one of the stories Adama had always told Boxey. About Earth, the perfect blue planet, totally safe and sheltered from all the evil in the universe. Where all the children ran freely and played with each other. Where unity and peace reigned. It had always been a story she loved to tell her children. To Sheba it represented the perfect vision of what she wanted to see Teague and Hera grow up in. But now that she had seen that the reality came nowhere near to matching the dream, it took all her strength to tell it this time. As she continued to tell the story, she wondered if she was doing them both a disservice by trying to keep up the facade that everything was all right. Maybe she should be honest and direct with them insteaOctober 10, 1997. Prepare them for the horror that undoubtedly lay not too far off. She felt immensely relieved when they both fell asleep. She then gently straightened the blankets on their beds and kissed them both. "Goodnight my precious babies," Sheba whispered softly as she turned out the light and closed the door to their room. She went over to her bed and tried to relax, but her troubled mind prevented her. When Apollo came in a centar later, she was still up. "Hi," her husband said with little emotion. She looked up at him, "It's gotten worse has it?" "Yeah," he nodded, "Blue Squadron ran into a Cylon patrol and had to engage them. And now we're probably just centars away from a major battle." Sheba leaned her head back against the pillow, "Apollo, what would you say if I told you I wanted to go back to active duty?" He stiffened and his expression grew pained, "Not a chance," he said avoiding eye contact with her. "Apollo look," her tone grew determined, "I know how you'd feel but I just don't know if I can keep my sanity if I have to be cooped up inside the Galactica while the largest battle we've ever fought goes on." "Sheba," he took her hand, "I know how frustrating it is for you, especially since I know that you're a born fighter. But God Sheba, please. It's not like the rest of the pilots. They're just combat rusty. But you haven't been in a viper cockpit in ten yahrens." "I haven't forgotten how to fly. That'd be no problem." "What about Teague and Hera?" he responded, "Who's going to be with them while this goes on? Frack, I wouldn't want them to be locked up in a sealed compartment with no one to comfort them, especially since they've never gone through an attack in their whole life." Sheba let out a long deep sigh, "You're right. Oh God, I don't know what's with me. I'm just--" she shook her head, "I'm just frustrated and frightened, that's all." "I know," he held her, "I know. I'm just as frightened as you are." She looked at her husband with deep longing, "Make love to me Apollo. Please." Apollo smiled and gently slipped off the shoulder straps of her negligee, letting it fall to her waist. And then, he took a long admiring look at her naked upper body. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, "So perfect," and he softly kissed her on the mouth. And then, Sheba's passion unleashed itself with intense fury. For the next centar, they rolled about in their bed, making love to each other with equal parts gentleness and savagery. Then, too tired to do anymore, they lay next to each other, her head resting on his chest. "How was I?" she whispered. "Like a Skorpian tigress," he stroked her long brown hair, "Adorable and cuddly one centon, a wild jungle animal the next." "Which half do you prefer?" she smiled coyly. Apollo kissed her neck, "I love and adore each half equally, just as I love and adore every part of you." "Thanks," Sheba sighed, "Do you think there'll ever be nights like this again for us?" "I wish I knew," he sighed, "Nothing's certain anymore. Not with a planet that can never help us and the whole Cylon Fleet about to strike." He then placed his hands on her head and looked into her eyes, "One thing I do know is that nothing can ever take away what we've shared all these yahrens. And nothing ever will. You've given me the best experience of my whole life." "I love you Apollo," she smiled at him and buried her head on his shoulder, "God, did you ever think when we first met that we'd end up like this?" He let out a chuckle as the memory returned. He and Starbuck had been out on a patrol and stumbled across Sheba and Bojay flying a recon for the missing Pegasus. But for several long centons, before the Pegasus flyers realized who they were, they had opened fire on the two Galactica pilots, "I guess we didn't fall under the category of love at first sight, did we?" "No," she admitted, "but I always like to think that my subconscious reason for not blasting you out of the sky when I didn't know what you were, was love." "Makes a great story doesn't it?" he grinned. "Yeah," she sighed, "Oh God, let's try to make the night go on forever." And with that, they resumed their lovemaking. On one part of the Galactica at least, there was a fleeting instant of joyous serenity. "What did you find out?" Baltar asked the command centurion from the patrol that had just returned. "We were attacked by Colonial vipers in this quadrant," the centurion pointed to the navigation board. "You were attacked?" Baltar frowned, "You mean they were not attempting to elude you?" "Affirmative." "Most unusual. What of the Colonial Fleet?" "We did not encounter the Fleet itself. However, we did pick up garbled transmissions of apparent human origin on this heading. Vector three-one-six." "You had already picked up these transmissions before the vipers engaged you?" "Affirmative." "Ah," Baltar realized, "Now it makes sense. You locked on to communications traffic within the Fleet and were on direct course for them. That's why they engaged you. But in surviving, you have thwarted them." He turned to Lucifer, "Inform Imperious Leader that we are proceeding in the direction of the Galactica's transmissions, vector three-one-six, at top speed." "By your command," Lucifer turned and departed. Baltar went back to the board and then broke into a wide grin, "Ah yes Adama," he said with relish, "Now it comes to this. The last battle is about to begin." Chapter Seven Aboard the Galactica, everyone was in a state of maximum readiness. Every technician hunched over his or her console with eyes and ears wide open. The bars and casinos aboard the Rising Star were ordinarily filled with dozens of off-duty pilots. Not so, this time. Now the pleasure centers were empty as all the pilots not actually on patrol remained in their Galactica bunks, trying to catch some last troubled sleep before it all began. An uneasy quiet descended across the Colonial Fleet. A sense of dread calm before the impending storm. Unable to sleep, Adama had returned to the bridge. Not much later, Apollo joined him. "Anything yet?" "No," Adama shook his head, "But they're coming. I can sense it." "Who's on patrol now?" Apollo looked at Athena. "Silver Spar and Green Squadrons," his sister responded, somewhat spent from her earlier confrontation with Adama. "Bojay and Jolly," Apollo grunted, "If anything comes their way, they'll be ready." "Long-range scanners still all clear," Omega intoned. "All missile batteries at maximum fire capacity." "Life Support Centers on full-alert standby." "All non-essential communication channels in shut-down mode," this from Athena. Adama smiled thinly, "Nothing else we can do, but wait for them to make their move." "Imperious Leader on Alpha Channel," Lucifer said. "Put it through," Baltar leaned back in his throne, "Yes Imperious Leader?" "How soon until we reach the area where our fighters encountered the vipers?" the Leader's voice was detached. "Approximately fifteen centons. We will continue this heading until we reach the Galactica. And then we shall destroy her and her fleet." "Just remember this Baltar," Imperious Leader cautioned, "You bear full responsibility for this decision to have us engage the Galactica in the last battle. The consequences will fall on you." "The decision to attack is the most logical one for us, as I already told you." "I still don't care for the idea of destroying the Galactica before she's led us to Earth." "You no longer have any choice in the matter," Baltar softly retorted, "Even if Earth exists, it could still be yahrens before you're led to it. After what happened yesterday, I don't think the Fleet can survive the wait." Knowing Baltar held the upper hand on that point, Imperious Leader remained silent. "If you desire nothing further, then I shall speak to you later. I must coordinate the attack plan," with that, Baltar abruptly terminated the transmission. Watching the exchange, Lucifer got the feeling that his subservient loyalty to Baltar might not be so temporary after all. It was not a prospect he would enjoy in the least. "Commander!" Athena blurted. Adama and Apollo rushed up to her, "What is it?" "Two Cylon baseships just entered our long-range tracking scanners." Adama frowned, "Only two?" "That's all so far." "What's their heading?" "Not towards us yet." "That isn't too surprising, the Cylon scanners have never been as advanced as ours," Apollo noted. "Tell Silver Spar and Green Squadrons to hold their position. They can engage fighters, but baseships are quite a different matter. Even if there are only two," Adama then shook his head in disbelief, "Why only two?" "Wait a micron Father, I think you'd better rescind that last order. Look at that heading they're on." Adama froze, "Dear God, vector three-one-six." he punched the intercom, "All squadrons launch immediately!" The red-alert klaxon then wailed throughout the Galactica. "Helm, hard about! Put us on a new heading to intercept those baseships. We're taking them head-on!" Adama ordered. Apollo sucked in his breath and turned to his father, "You think this'll work?" "It seems crazy, but if there are only two baseships, then a full- scale assault just might catch them by surprise. If they're concentrating their scan along three-one-six, then they won't even notice us coming from this quadrant." "We're sure catching a lucky break on that one. Why in the name of Kobol would they have had only two baseships stalking us all this time? I expected at least five or six." "Well, the Cylons do have a large Empire in the universe to tend to," Adama said, "It could very well be that over the last few yahrens we've become less significant to them." "New course plotted, Commander," Omega intoned. Aboard the tram to the launching bays, Starbuck gave Troy a playful nudge. "I'll guarantee you this, if you want an extra micron to take out one more Cylon, then this time you're going to get it." Within three centons, all remaining squadrons were launched and had rendezvoused with Silver Spar and Green Squadrons. As senior flight commander, Starbuck assumed the lead. "Squadron leaders report," he barked. "Silver Spar at full strength and standing by," Bojay said. "Green Squadron ready," this from Jolly. "Red Squadron rarin' to go," Boomer chimed. "Yellow Group standing by," Greenbean intoned. "Gold Cluster Squadron ready," Dietra reported. "And Blue Leader makes it unanimous. Okay everyone, we're going to hit those basestars head on. The Galactica will be on our rear helping us out." "Still no sign of the Galactica, Baltar," Lucifer reported. "Most odd," he frowned, "Our scanners are concentrating their full beam on vector three-one-six and we're picking up those garbled transmissions our patrol told us about. They shouldn't be too far off on this heading." "Assuming that those transmissions originate from the Galactica." Baltar's frown deepened, "Where else could they--" he broke off when the scanner suddenly emitted a loud series of blips, "What in the name of?" he blurted. "Scanners detect a large attack force of Colonial vipers. Eighty microns and closing." "Launch all fighters to intercept, now! Bring defense systems to full power!" "Scanner now reports a battlestar trailing the attack force," the centurion added. "Coming from nowhere near the source of the transmissions," Lucifer said, "It would seem Baltar, that you have just delivered us into an ambush." "Sixty microns and closing," Starbuck intoned, "Okay, here's how it'll go. Silver Spar and Green will concentrate on the lead baseship and try to knock out her turrets and landing bay. The rest of you will follow me to take car of baseship two." "Shouldn't one more squadron work on the first one?" Dietra radioed, "That's dividing it unequally." "The Galactica's going to assist Silver Spar and Green on number one. That'll more than even things out." "All forward guns to full readiness," Omega said. "How about missile banks?" Adama urgently inquired. "Armed and ready," Omega stopped to catch his breath, "Viper attack force now thirty microns and closing on the lead baseship." "Twenty microns and closing," the command centurion reported. Baltar was still in a state of shock, "It's impossible," he muttered and then looked up at Lucifer, "How long until our fighters can be launched?" "We have begun launching, but I am afraid the attack force will arrive before all of them are away," he paused, "Imperious Leader's ship would like to know if they should launch their fighters as well." He frowned, "Haven't they begun?" "Since you are in overall command of the attack, they are awaiting a launch directive from you," Lucifer said gently. Baltar suddenly exploded, "Then give it to them now, you infernal scrap-heap! Get their fighters away now!" "Fifteen microns and closing." "Okay guys, this is where we finally start earning fourteen yahrens worth of back pay," Jolly kept the tension in his voice submerged, "Bojay, you and Silver Spar take care of the turret batteries and missile banks, my group'll take the landing bays." "They're starting to get their fighters off Jolly," Bojay responded, "Watch out for 'em." Further ahead, Starbuck and his four squadrons advanced toward Imperious Leader's baseship. They were still well short of it when they ran into a wall of Cylon fighters that had just been launched. The battle had begun. "Green Squadron, flank both sides of the launch bay!" Jolly barked, "Try to get those fighters as they're coming out!" For a moment, the tactic worked as they destroyed nine fighters just as they were coming out. But then, a barrage of fire from the baseship forced them to abandon the maneuver. "As long as the vipers remain this close, our batteries can not be 100% effective against them," Lucifer said. An explosion then rocked the ship. "Severe damage to port missile batteries," the centurion said. Baltar nervously chewed his thumbnail, "Bring us to full speed and have us engage the Galactica. And have all the fighters we're getting off ignore the vipers." "She's coming up too fast! Silver Spar, disengage from the baseship and assume protective screen around the Galactica!" Bojay ordered. Silver Spar Squadron now pursued the two dozen fighters that had gotten off and were headed straight for the battlestar. Green Squadron though, decided to utilize one last trick. Before breaking off from the baseship to join Silver Spar, each viper would make one strafing run on the landing bay. Before Jolly could assume lead position, three other fighters began their dive. The first viper's shots were wide of the mark. But the next two scored direct hits. Powerful explosions erupted inside. "Way to go!" Jolly cheered, "Now it's my turn." Green Leader took his viper into a dive. And just as he lined up his target, a random shot from one of the turrets suddenly hit him, knocking out his navigational control. In an instant, Jolly knew that there was no way he could pull out from his dive. Oh well, he thought with resignation, I always did want to go out in a blaze of glory. He then held his finger down on the fire button as his damaged viper crashed into the opening of the landing bay. The force of the last explosion knocked Baltar to the floor. "Severe fire in the landing bay." "Open fire on the Galactica now!" he got to his feet and shouted, "Arm missile banks for launching!" "Port missile bank systems are too damaged to operate," the command centurion said, "It will take ten centons before the starboard banks are on-line." "Damn!" he slammed his fist against his throne. "I doubt very much we will be able to endure a sustained battle with the Galactica," Lucifer cautioned, "Particularly if her own missile banks are on-line." "We'll engage the Galactica until our shields start to give way. Have the helm stand-by for emergency light speed." Baltar was now seething, "Two can play this game of suicide runs. Inform our fighters to take out her landing bay." It almost seemed like a beautiful light display to those who watched the battle from the other ships in the Fleet. But to those up close in the center of it, it was a living hell, with Silver Spar and Green Squadrons trading shots with the Cylon fighters, and now the Galactica and baseship two exchanging fire as well. One Cylon fighter eluded Bojay's pursuit and slammed into the Galactica's port landing bay, touching off a serious fire. "Increase fire in forward port batteries," Adama said with a clenched fist as he hunched over Omega. "The batteries won't be enough," Apollo said, "We'll have to use a missile on them." Adama hesitated slightly. Battlestars contained four missiles that were generally thought of as a weapon of the last resort only. Each missile had the capability to destroy a basesstar with one shot, but the targeting had to be precise. Unless they were used exactly right, they'd be wasted. The Galactica still had the four missiles she'd been carrying ever since her last refit on Caprica, and except for one occasion fifteen yahrens ago, Adama had refused to consider using them at any time since. Now however, he realized had to agree with his son, "See to it." "Readjust course to nine degrees to port!" Apollo barked to the helm, "Prepare port missile one for launching!" Inside her quarters, Sheba was still lying in bed half-asleep, when she felt the battlestar lurch slightly and pick up speed. And then, the sound of the red alert klaxon erupted, followed by a loud whoosh and clang as the compartment doors throughout the battlestar sealed shut. "Oh God," she whispered as she bolted up. Deep within her, she felt a burning impulse to run down to the launch bay and get into a viper so she could join the battle. The warrior's streak inside her was raging to get to the surface and do something. So deep was her emotional fury, that it was over a minute before she heard the loud crying sound from the next room. "Mommy, mommy!" she heard Hera wail. "I'm--," she initially had trouble projecting her voice but then found the strength, "I'm coming children, I'm coming!" she opened the door and saw that Teague and Hera had both pulled the blankets over their heads and were whimpering heavily. "It's okay, it's okay," she whispered as she came up to the bunk and placed a hand on each of them, "Mommy's here, don't worry. Mommy's here." "What's, what's..." Teague was stammering. "The bad Cylons we've told you about," Sheba hugged him, "But don't worry Teague. Mommy's not going to let them do anything to you." "Mommy," Hera grabbed her hand, "Mommy what about me?" "I'm here for you too Hera," she looked down at her, "Don't worry." "I want Daddy too," her daughter whimpered. Sheba squeezed her tighter, "He can't be here now. But he'll be fine. He's doing what he can to make you safe." Outside, she put on her best image of the protective mother. But inside, Sheba still raged with frustration at not being able to do anything. At not being able to do something that could prevent this whole nightmare from happening. Then, the explosion in the landing bay nearly shook Teague out of his upper bunk. Sheba quickly grabbed her son and pulled him down to the floor. As she held her children in her arms, the agony she'd been feeling for too long threatened to consume her very soul. Her whole universe seemed to be collapsing all around her. The hope of Earth was gone. The safety from the Cylons was gone. The future for her children seemed to be going. And there was nothing she could do to try and prevent any of it. "You should be there." She frowned slightly as she pressed Teague's head against her shoulder. Had she heard a voice? A voice echoing all the emotions raging through her? Just then, another explosion shook the room. She suddenly looked up and screamed aloud, "What else?! What else will there be? God damn it all, what else?!" The sound of another explosion drowned out her scream. Further back, and unscathed by the raging battle, Imperious Leader monitored the situation from the command center. "Our fighters are holding back the vipers that did not stop to engage baseship two." the commander reported. "Excellent," Imperious Leader was pleased, "Perhaps I overestimated Baltar's self-preservation instinct. He is softening up the Galactica so that by the time we can move in, we can finish her off." "Should we move in now to assist Baltar?" The Cylon ruler studied the monitor. "Very well," he said, "Swing us around the battle. We'll hit the Galactica from the rear. She'll be so preoccupied with Baltar, she'll never know what hit her." Blue, Red, Yellow and Gold Cluster Squadrons continued to engage the fighters from Imperious Leader's ship. An endeavor that up till now was largely a break-even match of three Cylons for every viper lost. Chastened from the previous day, Troy took aim and scored his fourth kill. "Nice shootin' Troy," a familiar voice from his training program came over, "This is easier than I figured." Troy cocked his helmet in response. It was his former bunkmate Cadet Steele, who was now attached to Red Squadron. "Don't take it so lightly Steele," he radioed back, "The simulator had nothing on this." "You kidding?" there was a note of incredulity in Steele's voice, "I've already blasted nine of these tinheads." He was about to respond that it only took one when he suddenly heard an explosion erupt over the radio. "Steele?" he grew alarmed, "Steele?" "Holy Frack there's three of them behind me! Lords of Kobol I can't shake them!" Steele's voice was filled with terror. "On my way Steele, I'm on my way!" Troy hit his thrusters. It took a long centon before Troy finally saw them. A perfect formation of three Cylon fighters lined up right in back of Steele's viper. "Blue Twelve to any viper, I need some assistance!" Troy urgently radioed. There was no immediate response as Troy fired wildly and got the fighter on the left. The surviving two continued and opened fire on Steele. "Troy!" there was no mistaking the fear in his classmate's voice. "Blue Twelve to any viper, I need some assistance for Red Ten. Urgent!" Troy sounded desperate. "Blue Twelve I'm sorry," he recognized Starbuck's voice, which was filled with regret, "but there are too many fighters here to let us pick and choose our battles. You have to make due." Another wild shot from Troy got the center fighter. "Reverse thrusters Steele, reverse thrusters!" Troy shouted. "I've already got a hit on my main thruster, I don't think I--" And then there was nothing as the surviving fighter on the right took aim and blasted Steele's fighter into oblivion. Troy was stunned for what seemed like an eternity. His bunkmate from training was gone. The person he'd spent long centars of training with, exchanging stories of how they'd both destroy the Empire together, had failed to survive his first combat mission. He finally shook himself out of his stupor and allowed his rage to take over as he finally destroyed the Cylon fighter that had killed Steele. It took Troy all his strength to hold his emotions in check as he hit his turbo and went back to join the main battle. "They're too thick for us to blast a wide enough corridor for us to get to that baseship," Boomer radioed, "Starbuck, I think we ought to pull back and help the Galactica." "Negative," Starbuck responded, "If we do that, we'll only be letting these guys take a shot at the Galactica as well. We've got to keep them off of her." "Uh Starbuck," Dietra jumped in, "These fighters might not be the big problem. My scanner shows that the baseship is moving out of the area." "What's their heading?" "Starbuck, I think they plan to hit the Galactica from behind." "Oh Frack, all right try to pull back but let's do it smoothly." Behind them, the Galactica and baseship two continued exchanging fire, inflicting damage on each other. "Port missile armed and ready to fire," Omega reported. "Just a little closer," Adama grinded his teeth, "Another centon and then we'll hard-a-starboard and land it right on her sights." "Commander!" Athena blurted with alarm, "The second baseship's coming up behind us, they'll be within missile range in eighty microns!" "Helm, prepare for emergency light speed! As soon as our missile's away, I want us to withdraw immediately." "Seventy microns to contact with the second baseship." "Fire the missile now, Father," Apollo urged. He shook his head, "We need a clean shot. We need another twenty microns." Just then, another explosion shook the Galactica's bridge. Apollo suddenly stumbled backward and crashed right through the glass partition that led to the upper center of the bridge. Adama barely had time to look back and see his son lying unconscious and bleeding, his body covered with broken glass. "Oh my God," he whispered. But he knew he had no time to think about it. "Contact range in ten microns," Omega's voice was rising. "Second baseship's contact range in sixty microns." Aboard Imperious Leader's ship, the Cylon ruler stood hunched over the command centurion. "Starboard missile ready to launch." "Launch when contact range is down to thirty microns." "By your command." Ahead, Silver Spar and Green Squadron finished off the last fighters from Baltar's ship that had broken through. "Silver Spar and Green Squadrons withdraw," Athena's voice came over, "Link-up with Blue Leader immediately!" "Okay guys," Bojay barked, "The Galactica must be about ready to launch her missiles. Let's pull out." "Skipper," this came from Cree, one of the more seasoned veterans, "The other squadrons have fighters and a baseship on top of them and the baseship's closing down on the Galactica." "Then there's not a centon for any of us to waste." "Can't shake off these damn fighters, they're sticking right to us like a Taurean mantis in cellulite," Boomer grunted, "We can't get a clear shot on the other baseship." "Silver Spar Leader to Blue Leader," Bojay jumped in, "I've got two squadrons to link-up with you now." "You're just in time Bojay, we could use the extra firepower." "Attention all fighters, this is Major Athena. In forty microns you are to withdraw at top speed and rendezvous with the Galactica in delta eight quadrant, vector four-two-seven!" "Okay everyone you heard them, stand-by and mark!" "Contact range in four, three, two, one, mark!" Omega shouted. "Hard-a-starboard and fire port missile!" Adama matched it, "Withdraw at top speed as soon as its away!" "Scanners detect a missile being armed in the Galactica's port side." "Secure all compartments now!" Baltar shrieked, "Hard-a-starboard." "Thirty microns and closing to the Galactica," "Fire starboard missile one," Imperious Leader said coolly. As the Galactica made the turn, her port missile exited its launch bay and began its journey toward its intended target. Simultaneously from behind, the missile from Imperious Leader's ship exited as well. Baltar's last second maneuver prevented the Galactica's missile from impacting in the dead center of the baseship, which would have meant instant destruction. Instead, it slammed into the lower port-side of the warship and literally blasted away a section of it. Because all internal compartments had been sealed, the baseship retained its structural integrity. She was badly damaged, but still alive. A fraction of an instant before the Galactica achieved emergency light speed, the second missile brushed against her port landing bay. The impact was premature for detonation by five seconds, owing to the different angle the ship was at, but it succeeded in blasting away twenty feet of hull from the port landing bay. Amazingly, the battlestar was still able to reach her top speed and disappeared from the region. The deflected missile, with most of its explosive power still intact, suddenly careened toward Baltar's damaged ship. Once again, Baltar had been knocked to the floor by the force of a massive explosion. And this time, he had to dodge some falling equipment that had been jarred loose. He struggled to his feet and made his way to the console. And his mouth dropped open in horror when the scanner showed a second missile bearing down on them. "Emergency light speed!" he screamed. Several of the centurion technicians had been unable to survive the shockwave of the explosion. It took a long second before one of them responded, "Full speed impossible." "Never mind that, just get this thing moving!" Slowly, the damaged basestar picked up speed. And then, the second missile passed over her upper starboard-side, missing the ship by less than two hundred feet. Baltar slowly dropped to the floor and let out a long agonized sigh of relief. "Damage report," he whispered. "Serious structural damage to lower port-side. Landing bays unserviceable. Reactor system undamaged, We can still attain three quarter speed." "Get us out of here," he choked, "Tell all fighters to break off and return to that miserable excuse of a Leader's ship." Next to him, Lucifer struggled to a standing position, "Oh dear," he said, "I assume that you will be having a new strategy for later?" "Silence!" Baltar raged, "I've heard all I need to hear from you." He straightened his tunic and made his way to the console, "That incompetent doesn't stop to think that by firing a missile at the Galactica from behind while we're in front of her only jeopardizes us as well?" There was a long silence inside the command center until one of the centurions spoke, "Imperious Leader wishes to speak to you on Alpha Channel." "I'll talk to him later," his voice dripped with venom, "After we rendezvous with him. I'll be in my quarters in the meantime." "That would be most unwise to ignore a transmission from the Leader," Lucifer said trying to hide the contemptuous sarcasm from his voice. But it did not go unnoticed, "Your Leader has already displayed the same incompetence he displayed ten yahrens ago, Lucifer. It won't be wise for you to cast lots with him." "But with all due respect Baltar, it was your idea to attack, because you were convinced the Galactica lay on vector three-one-six." "Based on the incompetent intelligence report of your senior patrol leader!" he roared back, and then stalked out of the command center. Alone, the IL Series Cylon wondered what sort of evil fate had dictated Baltar's return. Meanwhile, the Galactica pilots had immediately gone to their maximum turbos as soon as the battlestar had gone to light speed. Centons later, they too had left the battle scene far behind them. "All right men," Starbuck said, "Let's head for home. Anybody picked up the Galactica's acquisition signal?" "Got it," Greenbean sounded exhausted, "Right on course, vector four- two-seven. I'm locked on to her." "Okay Greenbean, we're following you in. Let's see how banged up we are." "We're headed away sir, and well out of their range now," Omega let out a sigh of relief. "Is that first baseship still there?" Adama steadied himself at the rail. "It survived, but is shows clear and extensive damage. I think for all intents and purposes we knocked it out of action." Adama nodded and dashed back up to the upper deck of the bridge where he knew Apollo lay unconscious. When he got there, he looked down at his son's bleeding body. "Get Dr. Salik up here fast!" he shouted. Responding to her father's voice, Athena bolted up from her console and dashed up to him. Her mouth dropped open is stunned horror when she saw her brother's limp form, "No," she whispered, "No." "Make sure there's no glass impaled in him," Adama said gently, "Help me lift him up onto these chairs." She nodded, and together they lifted Apollo off the floor and onto two chairs, where he was now free from the scattered glass. "Nothing's impaled," Adama then took his pulse, "He's alive. He's probably just knocked out." "God, I hope so," Athena looked up at her father, "How'd we come out?" "Not too good, but a lot better than any of us were hoping for," he looked down at Omega, "Damage report on what that missile from the second baseship did?" Omega mounted the steps to the upper deck, "About twenty feet of the port landing bay was blasted off. The only good thing that contact with the missile did was it breached a hole big enough to smother the fire there. But I don't know if we'll ever make it usable again." "You tell Shadrach to have every last man he has, work on making it usable again." "Yes sir," he nodded and went back down. At that instant, Dr. Salik entered the bridge and came up to them. "What happened?" he asked with a concerned look. "He fell through the glass. Fortunately nothing impaled." Salik ran his life scanner over him, "Some blood loss, a concussion," he muttered, "Nothing broken. He should be all right. We'll put him on a stretcher and take him down to the Life Station." "Thank you," Adama sighed with relief and turned to Athena, "Find Sheba and let her know everything." She nodded and left the bridge. "All squadrons are returning now," Omega reported. "About how much of them?" Adama came back down. "I'd say from the looks of it, about seventy to seventy-five percent. I've already radioed them to use the starboard landing bay." "Good. Any word from Shadrach on the port bay?" Omega hesitated slightly, "He said he'd need a sectar to get it back in minimal shape, allowing for the fact that the loss of twenty feet of hull means modifying the landing space." "Tell him, he has exactly twenty-four centars," Adama said sternly, "In the meantime, have all the squadron commanders report to the briefing room as soon as they're aboard." "God Almighty," Starbuck exhaled once he was out of his viper. And then, he made his way across the hanger deck to the turbo lift. He spotted a dazed Bojay just ahead of him, "How was your end of it?" he asked. "It was horrible," Silver Spar Leader shook his head, "I haven't seen combat that thick since the Battle of Molocay." "The worst thing about it, is that it's just the beginning," Starbuck grunted. "Hold the lift," Boomer staggered up, and he stepped inside. Starbuck then noticed some of the pilots from Green Squadron making their way over, "Hey, where's Jolly?" One of the cadets just shook his head and said nothing. The three squadron leaders went ashen, the realization hitting them like a ton of bricks. Jolly had been a dear friend to each of them. They had all gone to the Academy together. They'd flown together and enjoyed life together. Good-natured, fun-loving, fat-bellied Jolly. Gone. The battle had claimed its first victim who'd been close to them. Starbuck slammed his fist against the turbo-lift wall, while Bojay wiped a tear from his eye. Boomer seemed more reflective of the three. "Jolly's the first one to go," he sighed, "Makes you wonder how many of us will be left when it's all over." Inside, each of them vowed to avenge their friend's death once the battle resumed. As the explosions finally died down, and the battlestar returned to a normal heading, Sheba cautiously let go of the whimpering forms of Teague and Hera. She let out a grateful sigh that it was all over. For now at least. Hera instinctively grabbed her leg, trying to stay clung to her mother, "Mommy don't leave me," she said through her tears. "It's okay," she kissed her gently, and then Teague as well, "It's okay. It's over now." Calmly, Sheba forced them back in to their bunk bed, "Try to rest now, children. Mommy needs to check on some things but I'll be back in a little bit." "Don't go Mommy," Teague whimpered, "Don't go." "Hush," Sheba said tenderly, "Try to be a brave warrior. I'll be back later. I promise." She exhaled nervously and made her way back into her room. She then stiffened when she saw Athena standing in the doorway. "Sheba," her sister-in-law said as composed as she could, "You have come to the Life Bay with me." Suddenly, Sheba felt the emotional agony returning to her. Adama sadly noted Jolly's absence by the empty chair for Green Leader, when the Squadron leaders gathered in the briefing room. But he knew there was no time to dwell on it. "All right, let's have an assessment," he said. "We couldn't lay a finger on the second baseship," Starbuck said, "Their fighter umbrella was too thick. That's why they were able to take a shot at the Galactica." "Hmmm," Adama mused, "That means we're dealing with one fully operational baseship with three missiles left, and a badly damaged on with full missile capacity." "I wouldn't worry about a missile strike from the damaged one," Bojay spoke up, "The only threat she might still pose to us is from her turret batteries." "Well either way, we're still at an overall disadvantage," Adama said, "And we still have no way of knowing when reinforcements will arrive for them." "In that case, I don't think we have any alternative but to engage them again," Boomer said, "Especially if they keep getting inquisitive about what lies ahead on vector three-one-six." "What are you talking about?" Dietra frowned. "Yes, I might as well tell the rest of you. Starbuck and Boomer already know the details," and Adama then carefully explained the discovery of Earth. "Not a word about that to anyone outside this room," he said when he was finished, "I haven't come to a final decision on that. But what I do know, is that the Cylons can't be allowed to go anywhere near that vicinity. It would be a mass slaughter, given the state of Earth technology. So therefore," he gripped the railing in front of him, "Therefore, we'll mount a second strike as soon as our port landing bay is back in service. That will be in less than twenty-four centars." "What's the plan of attack going to be?" Greenbean inquired. Adama sucked in his breath, "The Galactica will have to take on the undamaged baseship. You pilots will be responsible for destroying what's left of the first baseship. If things go our way, then there's still a chance of winning this battle and eliminating the Cylon presence from this very system," he paused, "Until then, you're all dismissed." Bojay, Greenbean and Dietra departed. Starbuck and Boomer however, calmly made their way over to Adama. "Uh Commander," Starbuck hesitated slightly, "Uh, I noticed Apollo wasn't here." "Don't worry," Adama said reassuringly, "He took a concussion and some cuts but he'll be fine. Dr. Salik's treating him in the Life Station." "Thank God for that," Boomer said in relief, "After losing Jolly today, I don't think either one of us could have taken losing Apollo too." "Be prepared to take it," the Commander grew blunt, "There might not be so many of us left tomorrow." Starbuck and Boomer both smiled weakly and left the room. When Starbuck arrived in the Life Station, he found a subdued Athena and a distraught Sheba by Apollo's life-support pod. "How is he?" Sheba wiped her eyes, "He hasn't regained consciousness." "It's nothing to worry about," Athena said gently, "Dr. Salik says he'll be fine." "Uh Sheba," Starbuck said uneasily, "Maybe it's not a good idea for you to be here. Why don't I take you back to your quarters?" "No!" she blurted, causing some of the other med-techs to look up in startled surprise. "No, I won't leave him," she seemed on the verge of breaking down. "Look Sheba, please," Athena reached out her arm in support, "You have to tell Teague and Hera what's happening, and you have to be strong for them." "Is that all I'm good for anymore, just being strong for my kids?" her voice rose, and now everyone in the Life Bay was looking at her. "Isn't there anything else I can do while all this madness goes on, and the whole damn universe comes to an end?" "Sheba--" Athena grabbed her arm. "Damnit, what else can I do? Damn it all, let me go out and do something!" Salik quietly made his way up to them, "Sheba," he said gently, "I have about three dozen wounded who came through a lot worse than Apollo. Now he's going to be fine. Don't worry. In the meantime, you'll be doing everyone a favor if you calm down and let us go about trying to help everyone else." Her face contorted with emotion and rage, Sheba shook herself loose and then walked out of the Life Station at a furious pace. Starbuck started to follow her, but Athena held him back. "I think she just needs to be alone and let off some steam," she sighed, "Once she does, she'll be fine. She's always been a strong girl." He hesitated for an instant, "You think so?" "I'm sure." Slowly, Starbuck allowed himself to relax. "How about you?" "Oh...I went through my hysterics when I saw it happen on the bridge. I haven't got anymore of that left inside me," she sighed and leaned back against the wall, "I've seen so much of this kind of thing in my life, I don't think anything can traumatize me anymore. I guess losing a brother and a mother helps." Starbuck came up to her and put an arm around her shoulder, "You're real brave, you know that?" "I don't think it's a question of bravery," Athena shook her head and looked up at the ceiling, "I think it's more a matter of self- reflection. Of finally coming to my senses." He frowned, "What do you mean?" She let out a sigh, "The sheer absolute waste I've put myself through these last fifteen yahrens. The way I've been with people." Starbuck was stunned by her sudden openness, "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself." "I'm not being hard on myself. I'm just being truthful," she looked at him, "I really haven't been much of a nice person to be around, have I? You and I can pretty much talk to each other, but whenever we're together it's as if the temperature goes down ten degrees." "Look Athena, that's not unusual considering what you and I went through." "Maybe, but the problem is it seems like that always happens whenver I'm around anybody." "Come on Athena..." "Starbuck," she went on, "a long time ago, back when we were at the Academy, you used to take me out on dates into Caprica City. One thing you always kept telling me then was that you could always see right through me. I'm pretty sure you still can. You know I'm telling the truth about myself." He forced a smile, "If you are, you're doing a lousy imitation of the kind of person you're describing." She looked back at the ceiling, "I guess when you think you might be on the verge of death, things have a way of suddenly opening up." she looked back at him, "Now answer my question." Starbuck turned away and grimaced, "I don't think I want to." "Then you know its true," Athena smiled sweetly and let out another sigh, "I'm not afraid to admit it anymore. When I saw Apollo lying there on the bridge, I suddenly remembered how I felt when Zac was killed. And when I remembered that, I finally realized what my problem's been all these yahrens. I've had this irrational fear of becoming close to anybody new in my life. For fifteen yahrens, I've been avoiding people because I couldn't bear the thought of losing someone I love in some new tragedy." Starbuck slowly sucked in his breath as his mind drifted back to when he and Athena had talked just after the Holocaust, and when she had told him a similar story about why she had decided to break their engagement. As if she could read his mind, she suddenly said, "That time when you came to me after the Holocaust and tried in your awkward way to see if we could go ahead with the plans we'd made, and when I brushed you off was the biggest mistake of my life. I thought I was just playing things safe for the short-term, but all I did was send myself down a path of senseless waste. And now, with death just about here for all of us, I'm finally realizing that I've been trying to rationalize everything by blaming you for choosing Cassiopeia over me." She bit her lip and looked at him again, "For what it's worth Starbuck, I'd like to say to your face that our break-up was my fault. I turned myself into something that never could have made you happy. You did the right thing when you chose Cassiopeia...and, well I'm not going to let myself feel bitter about it anymore. Especially not towards you." Starbuck uneasily cleared his throat. For once, he was at a loss for words. "I guess I should check on Sheba one more time," Athena said, "If you hear anything about Apollo, I'll be back on the bridge a little later." As she left, Starbuck wanted to go after her and say something. But he just didn't know what. And so, he stood there alone and confused. When Sheba returned to her quarters, she sat on the bed trying desperately to find some way of getting herself under control again. Of course Salik had been right about Apollo. Of course she could show faith in what everyone else would do in the next battle. And yet, there was still the frustration that she couldn't do anything herself. As she clenched her fists with anxiety, she almost thought she heard a voice echoing through her mind. "They are denying you of your gifts as a warrior." Yes, she thought. That was certainly true. Although she had stayed on active duty for three yahrens after her marriage, the instant she became pregnant with Teague, she had acceeded to Apollo's request that she resign. Coming at such an uneventful time when the Cylons had seemingly receeded into a bad memory of a distant past, it had not caused her too much concern at the time. But now.... "They have always wanted to possess you. To hinder you of your talents. They do this not because of any love for you, but because they want to deceive you, and make you their willing slave." There was that voice again. And as she found herself nodding her head, she also noted that there was a strange familiarity to the voice. "Listen to them no longer. Fulfill your true destiny. Have no regard for those who have deceived you and possessed you for so long. Assert yourself. Give in to your natural desires." The nagging question about the voice inside her mind was literally overwhelmed by the power of the words. For several centons, it persisted. Until finally, the emotional rage she felt inside her exploded. Not in the form of loud hysterics, but in the form of a livid, determined expression as she went over to her closet. She slid open the door and pulled down a thick bag. She placed it on the bed, unzipped it and removed the garments inside. It was her old warrior's uniform, which she hadn't put on in more than ten yahrens. She shed her clothes with rapid fury, then grabbed the thin pressure suit and slipped into the skintight garment. Then on went her uniform tunic, belt, jacket, and finally her boots. Sheba went over and took a long admiring look at herself in the mirror. After ten yahrens, her uniform still fit with ease and she looked like the picture of the great warrior she'd been. The daughter of the legendary Commander Cain. A faint smile curled at the corners of her lips. Just then, the door behind her slid open and a distraught Teague entered the room. Sheba tensed herself, "What are you doing here?" her voice was stern. "Mommy I'm scared, I--" "Go back to sleep," her voice dropped to an angry whisper, "Go back to sleep now!" "But Mommy I had a bad dream, I--" She took an angry step toward him, her eyes blazing, "I said go back to sleep, now!" She slapped him on the rear. Teague let out a wail and dashed back into his room, the door closing behind him. Sheba didn't even bat an eyelid in concern over what she had done as she picked up her helmet and prepared to leave. Before she reached the door, she suddenly heard the chime sound outside, causing her to freeze with tension. "Sheba?" she heard Athena's voice, "Can I come in?" Sheba sucked in her breath. Not now, damn it. Why did she have to come by now? "Sheba?" her sister-in-law repeated. She slowly gathered all of her strength and finally responded in a more normal tone of voice. "Athena, I just don't want to talk now. Come back later." "All right," Athena seemed to relax, "You just hang tight. It's going to be okay." Sheba waited by the door for more than a centon, listening to the sound of Athena's footsteps slowly fade away. When she finally decided it was safe, she opened the door and headed for the launch bay. As soon as the door closed behind her, the source of the voice suddenly materialized inside the room and let out a soft laugh. "I said there would be another time and another place," he said under his breath, "And at long last, that day has come, my princess." Starbuck finally left the Life Station and was headed back to the Officers Club when he noticed a flurry of activity going on inside Dr. Wilker's lab. "Something up Doc?" he stuck his head inside. Wilker was grinning in near triumph, "Starbuck, I'm glad you're here. You'll be the first to find out." "Find out what?" he frowned, "And Doc, how come you're the only person smiling on this battlestar?" "Sorry. It's just that in the last centar, fifteen yahrens of research finally led to a breakthrough." "You mean you actually found time to keep working while the battle went on?" Starbuck was incredulous. The chief scientist shrugged, "I'm not a warrior, Captain. I'm a scientist and I had to keep myself occupied somehow." "No offense Doc, but that's kind of taking dedication to your work just a little too far." "Not with this project," Wilker beamed, "The hyperdrive tractor pull now works." His eyes widened, "It does?" "Well of course we haven't run it on a full-scale level but the system I've devised will work. Our fleet is now capable of being pulled along in the Galactica's wake at hyperdrive for a sustained journey. Up until now the principle could only work with the ships that were more solidly constructed, but I've reworked the formula so that every ship, even the most rickety freighter would be safe." "Well congratulations Doc, but how exactly is that device going to help us?" Wilker frowned, "Well I would think that when the battle is over we could use this to put some more distance between ourselves and the Cylons. Bring us closer in our journey to Earth." Starbuck didn't need to summon any strength to hold his tongue. Even if security permitted it, he didn't think he'd have the heart to tell Wilker that his research had been all for naught. Earth had already been found. "I gotta' go Doc," Starbuck turned and headed for the door, "Fill me in on this later." Outside, he shook his head in amazement at how the whole theme of futility and waste seemed to be the running order of the day. Baltar sat alone in his chambers, still in a state of shock over the unexpected turn of events. An ambush. The last thing he ever would have expected from Adama. And if the Galactica had struck from that direction, then what could possibly explain those transmissions they'd been locked to on vector three-one-six? "Lucifer," he punched his channel to the command center, "I want you to have those transmission signals we were locked onto, played back on my computer." "As you wish," the IL Cylon said, "I should inform you that Imperious Leader still wishes to speak to you." "Later," Baltar's tone was curt, "I'll talk to him in a centar as soon as I've devised a new plan." "He will not be pleased." "Tell him that I am not pleased either," he accented the frost in his voice, "And that right now, I don't know what displeases me most, the outcome of the engagement, or his marksmanship." he paused slightly, "How is the ship holding?" "We can maintain our structural integrity as long as all bulkhead compartments remain sealed. However, there is the danger that if one more compartment were breached, it could very well prove fatal." "Do we have the ability to evacuate, if need be?" "We can no longer launch or recover fighters," Lucifer said, "The emergency launch for shuttles is still available if it is needed." "Thank you," he shut off the channel, stared at his computer and waited. A centon later, they started to play back. And then, as Baltar studied them as carefully as possible, new ideas were racing through his mind. When he was through, he leaned back in his chair and tried to sift all that was racing inside his head into something coherent. Then, he snapped his fingers as the light suddenly dawned on him. Now he knew what he had to do. Chapter Eight In the Launch Bay, Troy sat on the edge of his viper's cockpit, going over the instruments to be sure that all was in order for the second strike. It was the only thing he could think of doing to get his mind off the troubled sight of his father lying unconscious in the Life Bay. After the long combat engagement, in which he'd seen Steele and four other cadets he'd trained with for more than a yahren meet their sudden death, the romanticism he'd attached to flying ever since childhood had faded completely. The dream of killing Cylons had finally come to him, and he found it to be distasteful instead of exciting. The only thing that could be said about combat was that it was a dirty job that needed to be done. No more, no less. None of the fantasies he'd indulged himself in since childhood had prepared him for the sound of Steele's terrified voice calling for help just before his life was snuffed out. He wondered what had ever possessed him to attach such romanticism to combat. He had seen the destruction of Caprica happen all around him. He had stood by his mother's bedside and watched the breath of life leave her forever. He had sat patiently in his quarters, and waited anxiously while his father had gone off on numerous missions that had carried the threat of death each time. All of those experiences should have made him realize better. But no. He had treated his journey to warrior's status as a romantic quest, in search of triumphal vengeance. And so, while his family prayed almost every day that he never have to engage a Cylon in combat, he found himself wishing the opposite. The lack of combat opportunities, had forced him to seek other means of establishing a tough warrior's image. That had included changing his name from Boxey to Troy, a decision that he knew had troubled Apollo, but which his father had ultimately accepted. In choosing the name Troy, he'd given himself the name of a particularly famous figure in Colonial military history, a man who had been the first commander of the Galactica, more than three hundred yahrens earlier. At least it gave him the form, if not the substance of being a powerful warrior. There'd been other things he'd done to bury his child image that had also led to friction with his family. When he'd turned twelve, he'd insisted on having his beloved robot dagget Muffit turned off and out in storage for good. The dagget only reminded him of the naive child he wanted to bury forever, and the image he wanted to escape. But when Apollo and Sheba had suggested keeping Muffit as a pet for Teague and Hera, he'd thrown a violent temper tantrum and insisted on having the robot turned off for good. "That thing is an embarrassment," he'd ranted, "I don't want it around to remind me what a sissy I was. It's legally mine, and I want it turned off." Ultimately, Apollo and Sheba had given in. But the rebellious period that had transformed Boxey into Troy had left an unpleasant pall in his relations with his parents that took a long time to settle down. For two years, he and Apollo had not spoken with each other and it was only when his father finally gave in that things were finally settled. And so, the last yahren had seen him make his peace with his family, and enabled him to reacquire the close bonds of love and togetherness they'd enjoyed before. All that had been lost was some time. But now, he wondered if all the years of rebelliousness. Of trying to carve out a new niche for himself, had really been worth it. He'd sacrificed two yahrens of his life trying to make a point that no longer seemed meaningful. He heard footsteps entering the launch bay, and then the sound of someone mounting the steps into a viper. Probably an observation patrol, he thought. He glanced back over his shoulder to see who it was. He then did a startled double-take when he saw that the pilot settling into the cockpit was his step-mother. "Sheba?" he mouthed in shock, "Sheba, what the hell---?" In response to his voice, her eyes darted toward him. For a long centon, she stared at him with a tight-lipped expression, her eyes blazing with determination. But she said nothing. Instead, she lowered the canopy until it locked in place. Then, Troy heard the sound of the engines starting up. "Sheba?" his voice rose to an alarmed pitch, "Sheba?" But there was no one to respond to him, as the viper suddenly roared off down the launch tube. "Holy Frack," Troy muttered as he scrambled into the cockpit seat, snapped his helmet on and started the engines. Seconds later, he was away. Aboard the bridge, Adama listened to the reports from the two men responsible for cleaning up and repairing the damage to the battlestar. "All remaining fires are out, Commander," Chief Fireman Jorda said, as he brushed away a clump of boraton spray from his forehead, "The compartment shielding to the Energizers and the solium tanks worked like a dream. They were never in any danger at all." "Thank the Lords for that," the commander said with some satisfaction. After the infamous Cylon suicide attacks of fifteen yahrens ago that had caused fire to spread rapidly in a number of critical areas of the Galactica, new fire compartment shields had been designed to insure that such a danger could never again develop. It had taken fifteen yahrens for them to undergo their first battle test, and they had performed flawlessly. "My men are transferring to Shadrach's units to get the repairs started," Jorda then motioned to the Maintenance Chief, and stepped out of the picture. As soon as Shadrach was in the field of vision, Adama instantly asked, "Status report, Shadrach?" "Wetsteel operators should finish repairing the hull breach to the port landing bay in another three or four centars. But with the teams I have working in other zones, it'll be awhile before I can make headway with the wrecked Cylon fighters blocking the bay." "That's not acceptable," the commander said, "Move everyone to the landing bay immediately." "Commander, even with the fire shields holding, there was serious blast and shock damage to the areas near Energizer One, and the shielding itself may not withstand another sudden engagement unless I make a full inspection there." "Listen Shadrach," Adama's tone was hard, "I don't care what else you think you need to work on. That landing bay has to be back in service in ten centars, so drop everything else and have every last man working on it." The Master Technician's face contorted in disbelief, "Commander, with all due respect you're asking too much. Even with every last crewman I have, we couldn't be done in less than twenty-four." "Shadrach, I suggest you stop arguing with me and start earning some of that reputation you like to pride yourself on." With that, he shut off the screen and went over to the tracking scanner to join Major Omega, who had now taken over as Acting Deputy Fleet Commander. "They're still laying back?" he inquired. "Yes," Omega nodded, "From the looks of it, they seem to be rendezvousing. Probably to plot strategy." Suddenly, two small blips registered on the scanner. "What in Kobol?" Adama blurted, "Who authorized a viper launch?" "Nobody," Omega was taken aback, "All vipers are supposed to be on board, as per your orders." "Athena," Adama called over with concern, "Put me through to those vipers now." She nodded and punched up the buttons that opened the line on Adama's headset. "Unidentified viper pilots, this is Commander Adama. Return to the Galactica at once, that's an order," his voice was stern. There was only silence. "Viper craft listen, you are not doing any good by going out. You run the risk of causing the Cylons to initiate a counterstrike that we're not yet ready to deal with. Get back here now." Seconds later, a nervous voice came over the line, "Commander, I'd gladly return in an instant, but--" "Troy!" Adama was shocked to hear his grandson's voice. "Yeah, sorry Commander. I'm only out here because I'm trying to get Sheba to come back." "What?" Adama's shock only deepened. "Say again?" "Sheba is flying the other viper and I'm trying to get her to come back. I don't know why she's doing this, she just marched into the launch bay and took off. I had no choice but to go after her." "Yes, yes you did the right thing. But why is she doing this?" "I don't know, I've been trying to raise her and she won't answer." "Do what you can to bring her back. But Troy, you've got to do it alone, I can't spare any ships now. And for sagan's sake, don't get anywhere near that Cylon task force." "Well that's going to be a problem Commander, because that's right where she's headed," Troy said nervously as he shut off his channel. Adama stood there in numb disbelief. Things were now happening much too fast for him. His son was unconscious in the Life Bay. His ship was damaged and trying to stay jury-rigged for a military engagement against superior numbers. His dream of Earth was in ruins. Now, his daughter-in-law had cracked from the pressure and was about to commit virtual suicide. And it also looked as if his grandson was on the verge of losing his life trying to save her. Omega looked up at him with an apprehensive stare, "Sir?" The Commander shook himself out of his reverie. Right now, the one thing he didn't have time for was to brood over his personal agony. He punched up the video screen, "Shadrach," he said in a firm tone, "You just lost another three centars from your deadline." "Sheba," Troy's voice crackled for the twentieth time, "Turn around and come back. You're not doing yourself any good with this stunt." For the twentieth time, Sheba didn't answer. "For God's sake, think about Father. Would he want you to do this? And Teague and Hera? And you heard the Commander, it's not going to help us in the battle." Inside, Sheba shut her intercom off. She didn't want anything to distract her from what she had to do. She had to strike her blow against the Cylons. She had to make her contribution in the battle. It was inconceivable that she, the daughter of the greatest warrior who'd ever lived, could stay behind and do nothing while the last battle raged. With her skill, she knew she could make a difference in the battle. And provide a hope for herself, and for her children. She switched on her scanner. The two baseships already registered on it. Again, she allowed herself a faint smile. She looked back and saw that Troy was drawing closer, going to his thrusters in an effort to cut her off, trying to force her to return. "Don't make me do it Troy," she whispered, "I love you very much, so don't make me do it." Behind her, Troy drew closer. Sheba let out a sigh, "Forgive me Troy." She turned her viper around and switched on her attack computer. At first, Troy felt a surge of relief when he saw her viper turn around. Thank God, he didn't have to contemplate firing a shot at her engine to force her back. But then his relief disappeared when he saw her coming straight at him in the same way he'd seen a score of Cylon fighters approach him earlier that day. Oh my God, Sheba, no. You're not-- Quickly, Troy hit his thruster and went into an evasive maneuver. When Baltar switched on the screen, he saw Imperious Leader's angry visage staring back at him. But he refused to be intimidated by it, and instead let out a low chuckle. "Ah, Your Eminence," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "How nice to talk to you again." "You dare to defy me these last few centars?" the Leader's voice was angry. "You dared to actively take part in the battle when I am in overall command?" Baltar matched it, "You fire a missile that nearly finishes off what is left of my ship?" Imperious Leader was silent for an instant, "Perhaps I am not a military genius," he started. "And your record certainly precedes you on that point," Baltar couldn't resist. The Leader ignored it, "I have not seen such stunning success from you. Have you any new strategy to deal with the Galactica?" "I have," he said firmly, "But first, Imperious Leader, I must evacuate this ship and transfer my flag. Although this ship is still capable of inflicting damage with her laser turrets, it is no longer adequate as a command center." Imperious Leader paused slightly, "Very well. I will expect you and Lucifer within another centar." "It shall be done," he shut off the link and switched to the command center, "Lucifer?" "By your command?" there was a faint mocking tone in the IL Cylon's voice that Baltar ignored. "Have the emergency shuttle prepared to take us over to Imperious Leader's ship. I shall meet you in the launch bay in twenty centons." "That might not be convenient," Lucifer coolly replied, "Our scanners indicate two Colonial vipers are nearing us. It could be that the second strike has already begun." The muscles in Baltar's face tensed, "Impossible." "I'm afraid so. As soon as the situation becomes more clear, it would be most inadvisable to launch an unarmed shuttle." "Very well," he said, "Contact Imperious Leader, and have his ships ready for launching." "Take the hint, Troy," Sheba finally broke her radio silence, "Leave me alone and go back to the Galactica. Don't make me do this to you." "Like hell I will," Troy stammered, "Not if you're not coming too." "Then you're giving me no choice," she said sadly, "I'm really sorry Troy. Forgive me." Slowly, Sheba's finger came down on the fire button. But before she pressed it, a sickening wave of nausea went through her. Could she really be contemplating this? She had been Troy's mother in every sense of the word since he was seven. He may never have felt comfortable enough to use that title for her, but all throughout their relationship, even after the birth of her own children, he had always let her know in unspoken terms that he regarded her as his mother. And she was now thinking of killing him? Just because she wanted to fight the Cylons? Suddenly, the voice that had filled her mind when she'd been in her quarters, returned to her again. "Sentimental nonsense. He is an impediment to you. Have no regard for him. If you must, kill him. You can not let yourself be thwarted from what you must do." The words continued to have a powerful effect on her. So seductive. So logical. So obvious. And yet....she still held her fire. "Kill him." She suddenly shook her head, "No," she whispered, "No. I can't...I...He's my son." "Kill him." "No!" she let out a scream and then veered her viper away from the attack heading toward Troy. Startled by the sight of her viper flying off in an irregular pattern, Troy resumed his pursuit heading. "Sheba?" he radioed with concern, "Sheba?" And then, a brief pause as Troy finally addressed her by the title he had never felt strong enough to utter, "Mother?" Sheba didn't answer. Her hand was off the control stick, as she buried her head in her arms and sobbed repeatedly in a mixture of guilt, shame and despair. The voice had now taken on a disgusted edge. "Weak fool. Still a weak-hearted fool after all these yahrens. I had thought you would have learned by now, but perhaps it must wait for yet another time in the future." Sheba's sobbing deepened when she suddenly realized in a flash who's voice it was. Troy felt his heart sink as he saw her viper continue to go off in an irregular manner. It was almost impossible to keep up with her. Another few centons and she'd be as good as dead, Cylons or no Cylons. If they didn't get her, it would just be a haphazard journey out into the starry void where death would claim her in a more agonizing fashion. "Please," he prayed aloud, "Please help me. I can't do it." And then, Troy was suddenly distracted by the flash of a bright light zooming past him at tremendous speed. Sheba was at first too much in the throes of her breakdown to motice it. But when the second one went by, she finally managed to lift her helmet. They both looked back, and their preoccupation with each other, and the emotions they had felt, were forgotten when their eyes beheld the sight they saw. And then there was nothing. Nothing at all. On the Galactica, both Adama and Athena were hunched over the scanner, watching the two blips intently. "Lords of Kobol," Athena whispered, "They've disappeared." "Impossible," he father was dubious, "There's no trace of a Cylon intercept. What could have happened?" She looked up at him with sick horror, "You don't think they...?" she was unable to say it. Adama closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, "Dear God, let it not be so." Dazed, Sheba struggled to open her eyes. When she finally did, she saw only a bright and blinding white light, all around her. "What...?" she moaned slightly as she tried to focus ahead of her. And then, from the bright haze, three figures emerged. All of them garbed completely in white, but with totally indistinguishable faces. "Where am I?" she whispered. "You are safe," the second one spoke in a rich, reasonant tone, "Both you and Troy. We will return you to the Galactica momentarily." "Iblis," she whispered in horror, "It was Iblis." "Yes," said the first-one who had once taken the human form of John, "Count Iblis attempted to take advantage of your frustration by putting you through a test where you would have been forced to kill someone you love. But you passed that test, and in so doing, saved not only Troy, but yourself as well. And as it was fifteen yahrens ago, he must suffer a form of punishment from us that will make it impossible for him to make another attempt on you in the future." Memories of the time when Iblis had killed Apollo, and when these strange guardians of the universe had brought him back to life came back to her for the first time in fifteen yahrens. "What's going to happen?" Sheba struggled to regain her composure, "What's going to happen in the battle? Are you going to help us?" "Helping you directly is not within our capacity," the reasonant- voiced one said, "The final course of the battle can only be determined by the actions of your own people, Sheba." "I see," she said with resignation, "Will there be any hope for us?" Just then, the lead two motioned to the third figure, the one who had not been among them as long, who then stepped toward her. "Sheba," he spoke soothingly and gently, "Listen carefully to me. The fears that Iblis preyed upon, and compelled you to act as you did, are totally groundless. Everything is going to work out fine for you, and for Apollo, and for your children. Return to them, and don't be afraid anymore." She stared at the indistinguishable figure for a long moment. Even though there was no face that could be made out, something struck a chord of recognition within her. Something in the voice. "For now, your full recollection of your visit here must be forgotten, as well as Iblis's involvement in what you did. Officially, Troy talked you back in, and that was the end of the incident." The figure then drew closer to her. And now, the face was no longer indistinguishable. And it was a face that Sheba immediately recognized. "I'm proud of you, baby," he said, "You showed a lot more inner strength than I did when I was tested." "Oh my God," Sheba whispered, her mouth open in near-shock, "It can't be. It--" But before she could finish, the figure motioned his arm and Sheba suddenly blacked out again. Chapter Nine "Still no sign of them?" Adama leaned over Athena's shoulder. "None," she shook her head and tried to keep herself under control, "Oh God, I feel like it's my fault. When I came by her quarters and she said she didn't want to talk, she didn't sound like she was about to do something like this. I should have stayed there." "Athena," he put his hand on her shoulder, "It's not your fault. None of it is. It's the battle. The miserable battle." Suddenly, their reverie was broken by the sound of two blips. "They're back on the scanner," Athena tensed and then relaxed into a smile, "And they're headed back to the Galactica." "The Lords of Kobol be praised," Adama sighed in relief as he felt a great burden lift from his shoulders, "Whatever happened, Troy must have got through to her. Patch me through to them." He carefully adjusted his headset, "Troy? Sheba? Do you copy." "Yeah," Troy's voice sounded puzzled, "Yeah we're here. I don't know what happened, I feel like I blacked out or--" "Save it for later Troy," Adama interrupted, "Sheba?" "I'm, I'm here Adama," her voice sounded even more puzzled and confused than Troy's. "I don't know what I'm doing here at all. Why...why in the name of Kobol am I flying a viper?" Adama let out a sigh of relief, "Don't worry Sheba, you're fine. Just bring yourselves back to the Galactica and we'll talk about it in my quarters." He took off his headset and looked down at a confused Athena. "Probably a temporary memory loss," he shrugged, "If that's so, then hopefully she'll be all right from here on." "I hope so," Athena said, "I hope so." "Some good news, Baltar," Lucifer reported, "The two Colonial vipers have turned back to the Galactica. Apparently, the second strike from them is not taking place after all." "Excellent," the human traitor was visibly relieved, "Stand down from the alert status. And resume preparations for me to leave for Imperious Leader's ship. I will meet you in the launch bay in twenty centons." "Your desire to evacuate is puzzling, but it shall be done." "Do not waste time mocking me, Lucifer," his voice grew cold, "See to it." "By your command." As Sheba guided her viper toward the Galactica landing bay, she felt only confusion. How had she ended up here? Slowly, some of the details came back to her. Her mind had snapped in the wake of Apollo's injury. She'd gone off and commandeered a viper. Troy had gone after her. And then... Nothing. Sheba couldn't remember a thing. But as she set her viper down, she did feel something, even though she couldn't understand why. All she knew was that whatever emotional agony had caused her to be so reckless, was gone now. Instead, she felt as if she were in a state of serene bliss and confidence. As if the traumas and tragedies that had manifested over the last several days could bother her no more. She opened the cockpit of her viper. Troy was already out on the tarmac, waiting. She could also see that Adama had come down to meet them. Slowly, she took her helmet off and got out. Instinctively she came up to her father-in-law and they embraced. "God I'm sorry," she whispered, "I don't know what came over me, I..." "It's all right," he said gently, "It's all right," He looked over at Troy, "I'm glad you brought her back in." Troy dimly nodded. The truth was, he didn't know how he'd been able to talk her back in. He wasn't even sure if he could say he was responsible. His mind was a total blank on what had happened. "I have some good news," Adama smiled, "Dr. Salik says Apollo's regained consciousness. He should be out of the Life Bay in another few centars." Sheba let out a sigh of relief, "I'm glad," and she looked up into his eyes, "I don't know why, but all of a sudden I don't feel scared anymore. I almost feel like I know we're going to win." "That's what I'm hoping for too," he said, "Now in the meantime, why don't you go see Apollo? And then," he paused briefly, "And then if it would make you feel better Sheba, you can take part in the second strike. The Galactica might not be any safer than a viper cockpit is going to be." She smiled and shook her head, "I appreciate that Adama. But I think I know better now. I've been away from this too long. When the battle resumes, I'm going to be where I belong, and that's with my children." Adama embraced her again, "Whatever you think is best." As Sheba walked away to the turbo-lift, her bearing erect and full of confidence, Adama came over to his grandson. "Thank you Troy," he said, "There've been enough difficulties for one day." "Yeah," he smiled thinly and nodded. Adama frowned, "Something wrong?" "No, no," Troy said hastily, "Nothing at all." His grandfather's frown deepened, "What did happen out there?" Finally, Troy found the strength to look him in the eye, "To be honest Grandfather, I have no idea. I can't remember a single thing that happened when we finally got turned around." "You mean you blacked out?" "I must have," he shrugged, "Sheba did too. I guess whatever caused it to her, gave it to me as well." "I see," Adama turned and started to walk away. Then he stopped and looked back at him, "Troy," he started. "Yes?" Adama then shook his head, "Nothing. Never mind." And with that, nothing more was said as they both left the hangar deck. When Apollo finally found the strength to open his eyes, he looked up and saw the smiling countenance of his wife. "Hi," he whispered and forced a smile himself, "God, you're a lovely sight to wake up to." Sheba squeezed his hand, "I guess you earned yourself another Purple Medallion for injury in the line of battle." "Some injury," he looked up at the ceiling, "Slipping and falling through some glass. That's hardly heroic." "Don't be so hard on yourself," she began to rub his forehead, "You're one of the best. And Dr. Salik says you can be back on the bridge real soon." Apollo sighed, "I hope it will be over soon." "It will," Sheba said firmly, "And thanks to you and Adama and everyone else, we're going to win. We'll all have a chance to live again." He frowned slightly, "You really think so?" "I know so," her voice brimmed with optimism, "I don't know why, Apollo. I know the odds are still against us. But in my heart I just know we're going to come through this." "I hope you're right," he sighed, and then his frown deepened, "How come you're in uniform?" Sheba looked down and blushed slightly, "It's nothing Apollo. I'll tell you later." "You haven't--" "No I haven't," she interrupted, "I know what I have to do here," she then sighed, "I have to go now Apollo. I'll talk to you later." "I'll look forward to it," Apollo gathered some strength, "I love you Sheba." "I love you Apollo," she squeezed his hand one more time, "With all my heart." She then rose and departed the Life Bay, making her way back to her quarters. When she was inside, she immediately went over to the next room to where her children lay. She entered and came up to the bunk bed Teague and Hera shared, his on the top, hers on the bottom. She leaned over and kissed her son on the forehead. Almost instantly, Teague opened his eyes, "Mommy?" he whispered. "Hi," she smiled, "Did I wake you?" "No," he shook his head, "I didn't want to sleep." "Oh," her face dropped, "Was that because I hurt you when I sent you in?" Teague awkwardly lowered his head. "Oh Teague," Sheba clasped him tightly to her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad." "Mommy?" Hera's voice emitted from her bed. "Hera," Sheba reached for her with her other arm and also pulled her close to her side, "I'm so sorry. I love you both so much. Mommy's been upset." "I love you Mommy," Hera squeezed her leg. "Everything's going to be all right," their mother said tenderly, "I know you've been frightened. But it's all going to be fine." "I'm scared Mommy," Teague's voice was breaking, "I dreamed those bad Cylons killed me." "Me too," Hera whispered. "Hey," she said soothingly, "That's no way for a couple of brave warriors to talk. No one's going to hurt you. Especially not those Cylons." "They won't?" her son looked up. "No," her voice was filled with mother-love, "Grandpa and Daddy are going to chase them away so you'll never worry about them again. Just like your Grandpa Cain did a long time ago," she looked down at Teague, "Do you want to hear how Grandpa Cain chased them away?" Teague dimly nodded. "Okay," Sheba sat down, "Do you want to hear it too, Hera?" "I guess so," she whispered. Sheba smiled and leaned back in her chair, holding her children close to her as she told them the story she'd refused to tell them all their lives. "Many yahrens ago, before you were born, the evil Cylons tried to hurt all the people on the Galactica and the other ships, and all the little children. But Grandpa Cain was a great warrior who wouldn't let the Cylons hurt all the children and all the people. That's why he took his great ship the Pegasus, and went off to chase them away." She absently began stroking Hera's hair, "Now Grandpa Cain knew it wouldn't be easy to try and chase the Cylons away. They had two great ships and he had only one. But he didn't let that bother him. He'd become a great warrior because he never let himself be bullied by bigger evils. And he knew that the only way to save the people was to chase them away so they'd never bother the Galactica again." Her telling of the story took more than ten centons. She described it as vividly as she could, trying to make it come to life. Gradually, Teague and Hera loosened themselves from their scrunched-up positions as they listened attentively. Often, Sheba had told them stories about their maternal grandfather's legendary exploits, but they'd never heard this one before. By the time Sheba reached the story's climax. they were both sitting up in wide-eyed wonder. "He destroyed them both," she said, "But he knew that there were other evil Cylons elsewhere in the galaxy that would also want to find the Galactica and kill her people. And that's when Grandpa Cain made his difficult decision. He had to leave Mommy and all the other people he loved on the Galactica. He had to go away and chase more Cylons away so they could never again come looking for the Galactica. He had to give up what he loved so all the people he loved could be safe." Again, she smiled brightly at them, "He was thinking of both of you, even before he knew you'd be born. He wanted you to be safe because he loved you so much. And that's why you've been safe for all these yahrens." "But why did he miss the ones who are trying to hurt us now?" Hera spoke up. "Hera," she said gently, "You have to remember that none of us are perfect. Grandpa Cain would have wanted to keep these Cylons from hurting us. But the important thing for us to remember is what he did for us so long ago. It's because Grandpa Adama and Daddy remember what Grandpa Cain did for us that makes them able to chase these evil Cylons away forever. And neither of you will ever be scared of them again." Sheba rose and kissed them both, "Mommy will be back in a little bit. There'll be one more rough period to go through before it will be over, but it's soon going to be all right." As she went over to her room, she looked back and saw that the two siblings who'd been quarreling for a long time, now had their arms around each other as if they were asking each other for forgiveness. Sheba let out a contented sigh as she closed the door and began to take off her uniform. When she'd stripped to her pressure suit, she stopped and sat down to think. Before today, she'd never had the courage to tell them the story of her father's last battle. All the time, she knew her psyche could never withstand the trauma of reliving that painful experience, especially when she'd never had any definite answer in her mind about the outcome. But why now? How was it that she'd found the strength to tell them now, especially in the face of another attack? Why was she suddenly confident about how that confrontation had turned out? And why did she have this constant sensation within her that the battle was going to be won? What had happened to her that had produced this strange sense of serenity inside her? As she continued to sit on the bed and think, the darkness inside her memory began to dim just a tiny bit. An image bagan to appear in her mind. An image of... No, she shook her head suddenly. That was simply impossible. She changed back into her regular clothes and then calmly sat down in the chair in front of Apollo's desk, where she decided to spend her waiting vigil by reading the Book of the Word. Never before had the passages seemed more inspiring to her. In the emergency launch bay of their ship, Baltar strolled in at a brisk pace. Lucifer was already there in front of the shuttle. "Everything ready?" "It is," Lucifer said, "Though it is something of a surprise." "We have no choice," Baltar said flatly, "A proper attack will never be effectively coordinated with the condition this ship is in. The commander can handle the responsibilities himself," he boarded the shuttle and sat down, "Get aboard and have us launch immediately." Lucifer glided up the ramp and into the shuttle. The centurion pilot then closed the door. He activated the guidance systems and slowly, the shuttle began to move. It then picked up speed and was airborne, exiting the landing bay and heading away from the baseship. "Course plotted," the pilot reported, "Estimated time of rendezvous in twenty centons." When they were a fair distance away, Baltar turned to look back at his damaged ship. With its lower section literally blasted away it was an ugly sight. "Look for yourself Lucifer," he said, "You can see that the thought of maintaining battle operations there would have been foolish," he then turned away. Several centons later, the blackness of space was suddenly illuminated by a blinding flash of light from behind. Baltar's head darted back and his mouth dropped open in disbelief. "My God," he whispered, "She's gone." Lucifer stared at the scene in silence. The baseship had disappeared. "What could have happened?" Baltar was dumbfounded. "Hmmm," the IL Cylon pondered, "One of the lower bulkheads must have given way and destroyed the ship's remaining structural integrity." "I ordered the commander to monitor that," Baltar's tone grew livid, "Everywhere I look, it seems I am surrounded by incompetents. Is this what the Cylon Empire has come to?" Lucifer didn't respond. "Perhaps it makes no difference," he went on, "It was in bad enough shape anyway. We'll have to take them alone now." Again, there was no response from Lucifer. Only an uneasy cold silence that lingered all throughout the remainder of the shuttle's journey to the last surviving baseship. "Are you sure?" Adama stared over Omega's shoulder in disbelief. Omega nodded in dumbfounded amazement, "There's no question of it Commander. She's disappeared from the scanners and there are clear indications of a massive explosion." "Unbelievable," Adama could scarcely conceal his delight, "Now it's virtually an even match. By the Lords of Kobol we have a chance to eliminate them from this star system." "How did we ever get so lucky?" "Not luck Omega," Adama shook his head, "This qualifies more as a miracle." At that moment, Shadrach's haggard face appeared on the screen, "Commander?" "Yes Shadrach?" "I've got the port landing bay jury-rigged back into service. If you want to make use of it, it has to be now." "Thank you Shadrach," he clicked the monitor off. Omega looked up at him, "Well Commander?" Adama nodded, "Sound general alarm. Bring us to full battle readiness. Launch all fighters and plot a course for that last baseship." The red-alert klaxon then began wailing throughout the Galactica. As he felt the battlestar change course and increase speed, Adama prayed that their good fortune had not yet run out. By the time Baltar reached Imperious Leader's basestar, the Cylon ruler was in a foul mood. When Baltar entered his chambers, he made his feelings clear all too quickly. "You allowed your ship to simply self-destruct while you ran from it like a coward?" "There was no advance warning that the ship was about to go," Baltar retorted, "Believe me Imperious Leader, I regret very much the fact that the situation is now one-against-one. But we are still a formidable force. And I have devised my plan for the final strike." "Yes?" Baltar sucked in his breath, "I propose sending our fighters not against the Galactica, but against the civilian ships of her fleet. Adama will then be forced to abandon any thought of engaging us directly. He will be forced to use much of his resources to defend the Fleet, with the final result being that when we move in for the final kill, the Galactica will be defenseless." It took a moment for Imperious Leader to digest his words. Then he motioned his hand, "You may proceed. However--" Baltar tensed himself. "I expect you to keep me abreast of all developments. If you contemplate any change in your strategy, you are to consult me first." "I expected that," Baltar smiled, "I shall return here as events warrant it." He then bowed and departed. At that same time, the Galactica had finished launching her attack force. Blue, Red, Yellow, Green, Silver Spar and Gold Cluster Squadrons, with Starbuck in the lead, now took up their positions. Behind them, the Galactica continued picking up speed as she narrowed the distance between herself and the baseship. "Scanner still shows her lying back," Omega said, "I don't know what they're waiting for. We should be within her range now." Just then, Adama turned around and saw Apollo hobbling onto the bridge. Athena rose from her console and helped guide her brother on to the upper deck. "Reporting for duty Father," he said weakly. Adama smiled, "Thank you for making it." Athena helped him into a chair and returned to her station. Apollo allowed himself to relax and he looked at the navigation board. "What's the situation now?" "All fighters are away and will be leading us in," Adama said, "We're going to take that last baseship out." "What about the second one?" Apollo frowned. Adama shrugged, "Don't ask me how, but it self-destructed. I guess the strain of the damage we inflicted on it finally took its toll." "One-against-one," his son said in amazement, "I never would have thought we'd have odds as good as that." "It makes the decision to attack a lot easier." "They're launching Commander," Omega reported, "Their whole fighter force." "Positive shield." A long centon of silence filled the bridge. Apollo then frowned, "They're not headed toward us." "You're right, they're," Adama sucked in his breath, "They're on a direct course for the Fleet." "Father, our ships are going to be sitting ducks. It'll be target practice for them," Apollo warned, "We've got to give them some protectio.." Adama didn't respond to him, "Range to the baseship?" "1000 microns and closing," Omega's tone grew uneasy. "Father we've got to give our ships some protection or we'll be condemning thousands of people to death!" Apollo's voice warned. His father was silent. Then he spoke into his communications headset, "All fighters are to maintain their present heading. I don't want a single one breaking off from the attack force for any reason." "Father?" Apollo pleaded as he grabbed his arm. Adama slowly turned to face him, "Apollo," he said softly, "I know what I'm doing. And I say we throw everything we have at that baseship. Our viper force is the only thing that can give us an advantage in a head-to-head clash." "It's going to be a massacre." "I may have to take that risk. But if I'm right, those Cylon fighters are being sent to attack the Fleet as a means of diverting us and burning up our strength." Apollo stared at him as he slowly understood, "I see," he said, "So the baseship can then finish us off." Adama nodded, "Precisely. And as much as this pains me Apollo, I feel we have no other alternative. If we must pay the price of losing some of our own ships and the lives aboard in order to save the Galactica and take out the baseship, then so be it." He turned to Omega, "Contact range?" "900 microns and closing." "Pray that this works Apollo," Adama said, "We've run out of all other options." "Starbuck, my tracking puts those fighters as headed for the Fleet," a note of concern crept into Boomer's voice. It was also in Dietra's voice, "I'm willing to have my squadron head off and engage them." "Negative," Starbuck was firm, "You heard Adama's orders. Not a single viper is to break-off from the attack force. We're throwing everything at that baseship." "I sure hope Adama knows what he's doing," Bojay said idly. "Right now Bojay, it doesn't make a cubit's difference whether we invite losing a few ships. This is it, the last battle." "Thanks for the unbridled optimism, Starbuck," Greenbean snorted. "Anytime." "They are not stopping to engage us," pilot number one of the lead Cylon fighter reported. "Proceed to engage the Fleet," the commander responded, "They will return in time." "Commander," Athena looked up with a grave expression, "All the ships in the Fleet are flooding the communication bands. They're really worried about the situation. What do I tell them?" "Tell them to prepare for major attack, but that we have the situation under control and that those incoming Cylon fighters should be turning back in a matter of centons." "600 microns and closing." "Bring all missiles to readiness." "The Rising Star reports they're under attack," Athena spoke up. "God forgive me," Adama closed his eyes, "God forgive me." "500 microns and closing." Baltar's expression was grim as he entered Imperious Leader's chambers. "Status report?" the Leader inquired gravely. "The Galactica is not stopping to engage our fighters or defend her fleet," he said flatly. "She is still proceeding in our direction?" Imperious Leader was incredulous. "Yes. And so, I might add, are all her fighters." "Get back to the command center now," the Cylon ruler demanded, "And have all our fighters recalled to defend us immediately." "As you wish," Baltar turned and departed. "400 microns and closing," Starbuck intoned, "Okay guys, it won't be much longer. Here's the attack order. Blue and Red Squadrons will take out the missile batteries, Green and Gold Cluster will take the landing bays, Silver Spar and Yellow will hit the turret batteries." "300 microns and closing," Omega said. Athena suddenly threw down her headset and rushed up to the upper bridge, her voice trembling. "Father it's a mass slaughter going on. The Nebulae's been destroyed and at least four more ships. They need help!" "I'm sorry," Adama shook his head, "There's nothing we can do for them until that baseship is done with." Athena bit her lip and warily returned to her station. Apollo found himself digging his fingers into the side of his chair. "All missiles armed and ready." "Laser turrets at maximum power capacity." "200 microns and closing." "Have our fighters go to maximum turbos and start engaging her now!" In the Life Station, Dr. Salik carefully surveyed his operations, "Everything secure?" he asked a med-tech. "Yes sir," the med-tech said and looked about, "God, I hope we don't have to use much of this stuff." Salik grimly smiled, "I'm actually hoping we do." The med-tech frowned at him. "Look at it this way son," he said, "Getting to use this stuff means we're going to survive this battle." As Sheba felt the battlestar's speed pick up, she knew that it had started. Slowly, she made her way into the next room. For only a brief instant, she felt a sense of delight to see that Teague and Hera had been spending the last several centars playing together with their toys. Something they hadn't done for almost a yahren. Abruptly, the klaxon wailed and the compartment doors clanged shut. It caused the two children to bolt-up in fear. "Mommy?" Hera blurted. "Don't worry," their mother came over to them, "Listen carefully now. Grandpa and Daddy are going to try and destroy the bad Cylons just like Grandpa Cain did so they can never frighten you again." Sheba then pulled them close to her, "But before they can do that, it's going to get scary outside. And you two have to be brave little warriors for now. Can you do that for Mommy?" "Will this be the last time?" Teague wrapped his arms around her. "Yes," Sheba tightened her grip on both of them, "And Mommy won't leave you. Don't be afraid." "Okay all fighters, go to turbos and let's head on in!" Starbuck roared. "How many more have been destroyed?" Adama grimly inquired. "Probably fifteen ships so far. And it's getting worse," Apollo was grim-faced as well. "100 microns and closing," Omega intoned. "We're almost on top of them. Why haven't they recalled their fighters?" Ahead of them, Starbuck went into a dive and fired the first shots on the baseship. The rest of them followed suit. And then the baseship began returning fire. Imperious Leader heard the explosions and felt his throne shake. Immediately, he punched the buttons to his console and saw Lucifer's face on the screen. "What is happening?" "The Galactica's vipers have begun their attack." Imperious Leader frowned, "Have our fighters not yet returned?" Lucifer seemed puzzled, "No order has been given to recall our fighters. They are still engaging the Colonial Fleet." "What?!" Imperious Leader shouted and rose from his throne, "Where is Baltar? Put him on now!" The IL Cylon's befuddlement grew, "You mean Baltar is not with you?" "He left my chambers twenty centons ago!" the Leader raged, "Find him now! Find him now and have him executed! Now!" "We can not spare the manpower sir, owing to the severity of the situa--" But before Lucifer could finish, Imperious Leader suddenly smashed the console with all his strength. "50 microns and closing." "Fire all laser batteries now!" Adama ordered. Lucifer stared at the blank screen with an uneasy feeling. If what the Leader had said was correct, then that meant that the nagging suspicion he'd been developing had to have been true. But since he had neglected to share those concerns with Imperious Leader, that didn't exactly do his own situation any good. He felt another explosion shake his feet and he turned to face the command centurion, "Recall all fighters now. Bring defense systems to maximum capability. Concentrate all fire on the Galactica." "Port missile banks have been destroyed by viper fire." "What about our last starboard bank?" "Ready for firing in three centons." "Bring to readiness," he said swiftly, "Prepare for launching." "By your command." "Scanner shows the Cylon fighters disengaging and turning back. Estimate time of arrival in ten centons." "Increase firepower," Adama said, "Prepare starboard missile one." The battle had now erupted in full force. The two warships traded shots with each other, inflicting serious damage on both sides. Two Cylon shots struck the Galactica's scarred port landing bay and wiped out all the repair work Shadrach's team had put into it. Fires erupted throughout both ships. But the lack of fighter protection left the baseship at a serious disadvantage. And Starbuck and all the other viper pilots fully exploited it. A centon later, it was clear that the baseship was the more seriously damaged one. Through the thick smoke and falling debris, Imperious Leader made his way to the command center. Lucifer looked up. The Leader's face was filled with unspeakable anger. "Why haven't you launched our remaining missiles?" he finally spoke. Lucifer tensed, "The port banks are dead. The starboard one," he looked over, "Has just been knocked out before acquisition readiness was achieved." "I see," the Leader said coldly, "In that case Lucifer, may I offer you my congratulations for your performance in this battle." And then, he abruptly whipped out a laser pistol and shot Lucifer square in the breastplate. The IL Cylon collapsed to the floor in a motionless pile of machinery. "Have our fighters disengage and tell them to head off those incoming Cylon fighters," Adama said, "Prepare starboard missile for launching in one centon, now and mark!" "Okay warriors, we've done our job, now it's all up to the Galactica. Let's pull out!" Starbuck's voice burst with enthusiasm. "Fire starboard missile!" The smoke belched from the missile bay, and the Galactica's weapon of destruction roared toward its target. It struck it in the lower center and then another massive explosion rendered the baseship a powerless, dead hulk. Aboard the Galactica, a loud chorus of cheers went up at the sight of the baseship drifting and burning. "Her power outputs are down to zero. Landing bays unusable," Omega could scarcely believe what he was saying, "She could go any centon now." "Pull us back a bit," Adama said, "And standby missile two." "We'll have to worry about those returning fighters making suicide runs at us," Apollo cautioned. "I think our fighters can take care of them." "Commander," Athena looked up in disbelief, "I'm picking up a signal to the Galactica from that baseship. It's..." she broke off and her disbelieving expression deepened, "It's from the Imperious Leader himself. He wishes to speak directly to you." Both Adama and Apollo were thunderstruck. "Imperious Leader," Apollo mouthed, "Why would he be all the way out here from Cylon on this small a taskforce?" "I don't know," Adama shook his head, "But I'm sure we'll find out. Put it on visual, Athena." A split instant later, Imperious Leader's haggard face appeared on the screen. Adama could scarcely believe it. Here was the one who had picked up the mantle from his predecessor, who'd ordered the initial destruction of the colonies, with determined ruthlessness. The one who'd obsessively pursued the Galactica and her tattered remnants of humanity across the galaxy. The one responsible for untold billions in human dead and suffering. And now, Adama found himself face-to-face with that evil one. "Greetings Commander Adama," Imperious Leader's voice was smooth and cordial, "I have long awaited the day when you and I might finally speak to one another. Although I am sure you can imagine that I had envisioned a vastly different set of circumstances." "Of that I am certain," Adama kept his tone neutral, "Your Highness, in all honesty I can not say that this is an honor to be speaking to you, although I will concede that it is a most unusual occurrence." "Indeed," Imperious Leader seemed to smile, "I am certain you wish to know why I have contacted you. I have done so in the interests of preserving some military dignity for myself and for my people, by congratulating you, Commander. When this transmission is over, I shall self-destruct my ship, and your victory shall be complete. The last battle between human and Cylon has been fought, and your side has emerged victorious." Adama frowned slightly, "What do you mean by the last battle, Your Highness? Surely reinforcements from Cylon and elsewhere in your Empire will come to take your place." "No Commander," Imperious Leader shook his head, "No reinforcements will ever come for the simple reason that you have engaged and defeated all that is left of the entire Cylon Empire." Adama skipped a beat, "I beg your pardon?" "You heard me right Commander," he went on, "We were all that remained. Our home planet Cylon, and all the settlements of our Empire were destroyed more than ten yahrens ago by the legendary Commander Cain." Adama's jaw fell open in stunned disbelief. Standing next to him, Apollo's knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed to the floor. "How," Adama mouthed, "How can any of this be so?" Imperious Leader seemingly chuckled, "The greatest blunder of my life prior to today, which Commander Cain exploited to the fullest. You see, I had erroneously assumed, as I'm sure you did, that the Pegasus had perished in the same engagement with the two baseships fourteen yahrens ago. Believing that you and you fleet comprised all that remained of humanity, I ordered our entire fleet of ten baseships dispersed across the galaxy in an effort to locate and destroy you. And that, was when Commander Cain made his second resurrection from the dead. He knew that my decision to disperse the Fleet had left all the planets in our Empire, including Cylon, wide open to attack. "He began by returning to Gomorrah and wiping that planet out so fast, we never had time to realize what was happening. And then, he proceeded to Cylon and destroyed our entire civilization. It was then that I made the decision to resummon our entire Fleet to deal with this totally unexpected menace. Nine of the ten baseships returned. The last was never heard from again." Something jogged Adama's memory, "That...that would be the one I encountered and destroyed fourteen yahrens ago." "Really? This conversation is serving many purposes Commander, you have just cleared up a mystery that has long since puzzled me," Imperious Leader sighed, "At any rate, Cain brilliantly eluded our pursuit and made his way back to your former home planets where he destroyed our installations there. And then, we finally caught up with him. He put up a brilliant fight and actually succeeded in taking out four of our basestars, but our superior numbers were too much for him. The Pegasus and Commander Cain, rather appropriately, met their death in the skies over Caprica. "But he'd done a lot to us. With Cylon and Gomorrah wiped out, and our installations in the colonies seriously damaged, we were now a fleet of five baseships with no Empire to run. I made the decision to abandon what we had left and concentrate all our forces into a single battle fleet that would track you down and wait for you to lead us to Earth. Then we would destroy you all in one fell-swoop and return to the task of rebuilding our Empire. "It took us a long time before we picked up your scent with our homing beacon five yahrens ago. And then, we sat back and waited. And during our wait, I lost three baseships when one of them suffered a reactor meltdown and destroyed two more when she blew. It was then, that the decision to attack was made, the results of which have come to this," he paused, "So you see Commander, this has been the last battle of the thousand yahren war. And your side has won. For that, I salute you and your people. You may live the rest of your lives in peace. I don't know how close you are to discovering Earth, but you need not concern yourself with it anymore. Your home planets are available for the taking...if you desire to return to them. "It's time for me to go now. Goodbye forever Commander Adama. From the last Cylon Imperious Leader," and with that, he faded from the viewing screen. Seconds later, the last Cylon baseship exploded in a gigantic white firebalh. When it had dissipated, there was nothing but stunned silence on the bridge. Events had gone so fast for them that their minds could scarcely comprehend the impact of what they had just heard. "Athena," Adama said quietly, "Play back the tape of this transmission." Dazed, Athena pushed a button and Imperious Leader's face again appeared on the screen, again telling a story that had been beyond the realm of anything they had ever comprehended, and which would take a long time for them to come to grips with. Sheba, Teague and Hera had watched the battle unfold through the porthole in their room. Throughout it all, she was amazed by how the children managed to restrain themselves, even as the Galactica was rocked by repeated explosions. Yet the children never gave into hysteria. Only the tightening of their grip on their mother, and occasional burying their head in response to an explosion, indicated their fear. Then, the powerful blinding flash of the baseship exploding. "It's over," Sheba whispered in awe, "It's all over," she kissed them both, "You don't have to be frightened any more." "Commander," Omega sounded drained, "Our fighters are returning. I'm afraid it doesn't look good." Adama warily made his way over, "Dear God," he said, "Barely half of them are returning." "Those Cylon fighters must have put up an awfully good fight once they realized they didn't have any place to go back to," Apollo noted. "Tell them to use only the starboard landing bay," Adama exhaled, "Damage report to the Galactica and the rest of the Fleet?" "Serious structural damage to the port landing bay. No jury-rigging will ever make it usable again. Several localized fires throughout the ship, but they seem to be contained." "Athena, how many ships accounted for?" Athena was spent from emotional exhaustion, "So far, I count 186 ships." "34 lost," Adama winced. She nodded, "I haven't pinpointed all the ones we lost, but I do know that the Nebulae and at least several passenger ships took it. Plus, the Rising Star lost her airlock. They report eighty percent causalties." Apollo exhaled, "I guess, all things considered, we came out okay," he paused, "Can you believe that story he told us?" "It all seems so impossible," Adama nodded, "And yet..." he trailed off. "I guess a serious reassesment of our future is in order." "Yes," he sighed, "Apollo, I suggest you have Sheba brought to my quarters. She...she needs to hear this more than anyone else." His son dimly nodded and left the bridge. But before Apollo went to his quarters, he stopped first in the landing bay. He had to see who had made it back. And who hadn't. "Yellow Squadron returning," an overhead voice intoned. Apollo watched each fighter land and each cockpit open. Right away, he felt the sick feeling in his stomach when he saw that Greenbean hadn't made it. Green Squadron, which had lost its leader in the first battle, came next, followed by Gold Cluster. But Apollo had no chance to ask any questions of her commander, because Dietra's viper had been badly shot up and required the attention of several technicians. He shook his head in disbelief. Barely half the fighters of each squadron had survived. And many of the causalties were young cadets, no older than Troy. "Silver Spar Squadron returning," the voice said. Apollo saw a wary Bojay pop open his cockpit and remove his helmet, a haunted, faraway look on his face. He came up to him, "What happened out there?" Bojay nearly collapsed, "When they realized they didn't have a ship to go back to, they started heading back for the Fleet and we intercepted them. God, the firepower was so thick." "What about my son? And Starbuck and Boomer?" Bojay shook his head, "I just don't know Colonel. We were flying all over the place and there was no coordination at all. I was too preoccupied with Silver Spar to see what Blue and Red Squadrons were doing." "Okay," Apollo said quietly, "Get yourself to the Life Bay." "Sorry," he mumbled and staggered out. "Red Squadron returning," the voice echoed again. Apollo watched the cockpits of Red Group open and his heart nearly stopped. Boomer was nowhere to be seen. No, he thought. Not Boomer. That couldn't be. Boomer was one of the best. "Blue Squadron returning." Apollo felt sick. If Boomer was gone, then that didn't bode well for Starbuck and Troy. One-by-one, they came. The first fighters offered no sign of them. Then, the last three made their way in. And Apollo felt the terrible weight lift from his shoulders when he saw his son open the cockpit and salute him. And right behind him, both Boomer and Starbuck gave Apollo the thumbs-up sign. "Thank God," Apollo whispered. He dashed up to Troy's viper. His son dropped to the tarmac and they embraced each other. Starbuck and Boomer came up to them, "Mind if we join you?" Blue Leader smiled. "Sure," Apollo returned it and then glanced at Boomer, "What's the idea of giving me a heart attack when the rest of Red Squadron lands without you?" "I wasn't putting my ship down ahead of a single cadet," Boomer said, "I saw too many young boys die out there." "Well it's good to see all of you." "Not half as much as it is for us to see you and the Galactica still in one piece," Troy said. "Listen," his father's voice finally burst into enthusiasm, "All of you report to Adama's quarters immediately. I'll join you there later as soon as I get Sheba." "What is it?" Starbuck frowned. "The answer to a prayer none of us ever thought could be answered." He then dashed off in the direction of the turbo-lift, leaving the three pilots alone to exchange puzzled glances. When Apollo entered his quarters, he found Sheba sitting in the chair in front of the porthole. Hera and Teague lay seated on her lap, both asleep in her arms. "Hi," he came up to her and smiled. "Hi," his wife returned it, "Thanks for bringing us through." "How'd they behave?" "They were so brave," Sheba looked down lovingly at her children, "I doubt there'll ever be a sibling rivalry between them anymore after what they've gone through together. I think it's sort of bonded them to each other." "I'm glad," he said as he took Hera from her, "I'm glad." As Apollo gently lay his daughter on her bed, her innocent brown eyes suddenly opened. "Hey," Apollo smiled at her, "How's my little princess?" "I'm okay," the six year old girl's voice was relaxed, "Did you chase them away, Daddy?" "Sure did," Apollo drew closer to her face, "Me, your Grandpa, your Aunt Athena and your Uncle Starbuck. We all chased them away just for you. And you'll never see or be scared by them ever again." He tenderly kissed his daughter and pulled the blanket over her, "No more nightmares, Hera. Just pleasant dreams from now on." He noticed a smile come over her face as she closed her eyes and almost instantly fell asleep. Apollo turned back to Sheba who was gently tucking Teague into bed. "Listen," he said trying to keep his voice level, "You need to come with me to Adama's quarters. There's something very important you need to see." They had all gathered in Adama's quarters, and in stunned fascination they watched the conversation with Imperious Leader. "...Our home planet Cylon, and all the settlements of our Empire were destroyed more than ten yahrens ago by the legendary Commander Cain." Instantly, Starbuck bit right through his cigar. Boomer's mouth dropped open in astonishment. Troy nearly fell out of his chair. As soon as the Leader's voice had reached the point of revelation, Apollo had quickly fixed his attention on Sheba, waiting for the emotional reaction he was certain he'd seen. But incredibly, there was almost no reaction from Sheba. Only the tiniest of smiles and the clenching of a fist revealed any sign of emotion. And then slowly, the tears welling in her eyes. As the tape continued to play, everyone else found themselves looking at Commander Cain's daughter. And all of them were equally amazed by her muted reaction. When the tape had finished, Adama slowly came up to his daughter-in- law and put his hand on her shoulder. Finally, Sheba sucked in her breath and managed to speak, "I know this'll sound crazy," she said evenly, "But for some reason, I feel as if I already knew that. I don't know how or why, but I just know I did." She exhaled, and brushed away the single tear that had streamed down her cheek, "Oh God what a wonderful way for him to have gone. So much in character." "He gave us all one last miracle," Adama said, "He made it possible for us to destroy the Cylons once and for all. Something I don't think any of us ever expected to see." "I just don't believe it," Starbuck whispered, "I mean I can believe it that Cain survived, but good Lords of Kobol, how..." he trailed off. Adama smiled reassuringly, "I think it'll take a long time for us to come to terms with this." The intercom then sounded. As Adama made his way over, Apollo gently brushed his fingers through his wife's hair, "You okay?" Slowly, tears still streaming, Sheba broke into a smile, "I'm fine," she whispered and squeezed her husband's hand, "Oh God, I feel wonderful. Now I think I know why I felt so confident about the battle. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I think already knew about Father." "Yes Omega?" Adama spoke into the intercom. "Commander, that probe you sent to monitor Earth is sending back its data over com-line Alpha." "Good Lord, I'd forgotten all about that," Adama murmured, "Have the data sent over to me as soon as it's finished." "Where um...," Starbuck struggled for words, "Where does this leave us Commander? I mean, what do we do now?" "I'm not sure anymore," Adama confessed, "This new information puts everything in a different light. But before I make any decision, I need to know everything about Earth from that probe. That could take a few centars." A long silence then filled the room. Finally, Boomer broke it, "It's funny." "What is?" Troy asked. "Us," he looked around, "I mean is it coming through to any of us? We won the war. After a thousand yahrens, the war is over and we won." "That's something none of us ever figured on doing, Boomer," Apollo said, "For us, the war was over fifteen yahrens ago. How many of us in our right minds ever would have thought...?" his voice trailed off. "It's a miracle," Adama whispered, "That's the only way to describe it." "Well," Starbuck's voice regained some of its vigor, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I think this calls for the ambrosia and some heavy celebrating." "Yes, yes," Adama finally shook himself out of his stupor, "By all means we should celebrate." A centon later, they had all filled their glasses and Adama raised his high. "My dear family," he said, "It would be a mere understatement to say that this day will be remembered in human history for all eternity. Today marks the end of humanity's greatest nightmare. And several toasts should be given to those who have made the end of the nightmare possible. First, to Commander Cain. The greatest warrior who ever lived, who sacrificed himself to save our lives and to destroy the Cylon tyranny. And for whom tomorrow, I shall recommend a posthumous award of the Star of Kobol. "Second, to all the heroic souls who lost their lives in the battle. Jolly, Greenbean, and so many other brave warriors. "Third, to all of our comrades and loved ones who shared our journey and did not live to see this day. In particular, Colonel Tigh, Cassiopeia, and Serina. "And finally," his voice tried not to break, "to the greatest gifts God could ever have bestowed on us. To victory, and to peace." "To victory and peace," they all repeated and drank. And then, they all came together in a circle of embrace. That night, as the celebration spread like wildfire throughout the Fleet, Apollo and Sheba spent a quiet evening together in their quarters. "Tell me something Sheba," he said, "What did you mean when you said you felt like you already knew about what happened to Cain?" Sheba sighed, "I didn't want to tell you this Apollo, but while you were still recovering in the Life Bay, I did a foolish thing." His wife then recounted the story of what she'd done. Everything that her mind could remember. What she could not tell Apollo, because it had been blocked totally from her memory, was hearing the voice in her head, and realizing the involvement of the person behind that voice. "I guess my mind snapped," she went on, "Everywhere I looked, it seemed like my universe was falling apart around me and I felt so frustrated about not being able to do anything." Apollo listened to her with rapt attention, "How did Troy talk you back?" "That's the funny thing Apollo," she said, "Troy didn't do it. At least nothing that I remembered." He frowned, "What happened?" "There was a bright light," she said, "And then I blacked out. When I came to just a couple of centons later, I was flying back to the Galactica, and for some reason I had this feeling of serenity that everything was going to be all right." Apollo's fascination deepened, "A light?" "Yes, almost like, like..." Sheba tried to find the right words and then suddenly, her face dawned as a memory came back to her, "Like that time we came back from that evil Count Iblis. When it felt like there was something so good and pure out there helping us. It was as if the same thing happened." "The ones who gave us the coordinates for Earth?" her husband tensed himself. "Yes," she nodded, "Yes, that was it." "Do you remember anything else?" She hesitated for a moment. "Sheba?" "Apollo," his wife said slowly, "I want you to promise me you'll never say this to anyone." "Sure," he squeezed her hand, "I promise." Sheba sucked in her breath, "Apollo, I swear by all the Lords, there was a brief micron where I actually thought I saw him." "Him?" Apollo frowned. "My father," she said with all her strength. A long silence filled the air. "I actually thought I saw him coming toward me. Telling me that it was going to be all right. It was only for a micron..." Sheba stopped and looked into her husband's eyes, "Do you think I'm crazy?" "No," he said tenderly, "You're not. I know you're not because the same thing happened to me once." "It did?" Apollo sighed, "This never made it into my final action report when I disappeared at Terra. That intevention in the war between the Nationalists and Eastern Alliance was engineered by those beings of light. One of them called John appeared to me in human form and told me what I had to do. And it was from him that I found out that Terra wasn't Earth." Her eyes widened, "You never told me this before." "There wasn't much to say about it," Apollo sighed, "The whole experience of Terra was such a letdown for the Fleet that I tried to forget it." Sheba was silent. "I can't vouch for the part about your father," he continued, "But I can believe those angels, or Guardians of the Universe, or instruments of God or whatever they are, intervening. I guess they were just watching us and doing what they could to make sure that we'd win the battle." "Maybe," Sheba sighed, "Or maybe it was just a dream and I only saw what my mind wanted to see. I guess I'll never know for sure." Apollo put his hands on her shoulders. "Whatever they are, and whatever happened to you, I'm just glad that you came back safe. You're the most precious thing in this universe to me, and winning the battle wouldn't have meant anything to me if I'd lost you." "I'm sorry I let you down," she whispered. "No," he shook his head, "I don't want you to blame yourself. You were simply responding to your own natural instincts, and I guess in a way I'm to blame for what happened." Apollo drew closer to her, "I know I made a promise to you fifteen yahrens ago when I proposed to you, that Serina's memory wasn't going to haunt me anymore. But I guess there was one aspect of it that stayed with me and caused me to put too many demands on you. I want you to know Sheba, that if you ever want to rejoin the service and help us against any future evils we come up against, I'm not going to stand in your way." She shook her head, "Maybe I will rejoin the service someday, but that's not going to come until Teague and Hera are grown up. We've entered a whole new era of adjustment for all of us, and the first responsibility any of us have, is making sure our children get through it." Softly, they kissed each other. And then they indulged themselves in their own version of celebration. The Officers Club was alive with a festive atmosphere of drinking and celebrating as Starbuck downed his sixth drink of the evening. Inside, he was determined to let the night last forever. He noticed a weary Athena enter the room and he motioned her to come over. "Hi," he grinned, "Buy you a drink?" "Thanks," she returned it as best she could, "I could use it." Starbuck took a sip from his glass, "Adama told me about all the ships we lost," he said, "I know that couldn't have been easy for you, monitoring their communications and all that." "It was horrible," Athena sighed, "But he had no choice. From a military standpoint, it was the only way." "Yeah, I don't think anybody would disagree. Especially since it guaranteed us victory. At least, I haven't run into anyone who doesn't understand it." She nodded as her drink was set down on the table, "I was sorry to hear about Greenbean amd the others. It must have been awful out there." "You never like to lose anybody," he absently studied his cigar, "And God we lost a lot of good warriors. I'll never get use to not ever seeing Jolly again, eating up half the food in the club." Starbuck then looked up at her, "You think it somehow makes the whole idea of celebrating, the way we are now, the way everyone else is now, kind of...well, that is, wrong?" "Hell no," she took a gulp of her drink, "Sure it's a tragedy to lose 34 ships and almost half of our pilots, but after the things we've gone through for fifteen yahrens, we're entitled to let ourselves go. It's time for all the mourning, all the depression to end. After the way I've wasted my life with my self-pity, I'm going to have all the fun I can get out of the rest of my life." He smiled weakly, "I'm glad for you, Athena." She finished her drink and rose, "I guess I'll call it a night. Thanks for the drink, Starbuck." "Athena wait," Starbuck rose halfway as she began walking out. She stopped and looked back at him, "Yes?" "I wish you'd stay a little longer," he said, "I'm not doing anything else tonight and I know I'd rather have someone to talk to." Athena sat down again and signalled for another drink. "All right," she smiled, "Let's talk." When her drink came, Athena gently lifted her glass, "We've all got quite a few yahrens to catch up on, haven't we?" Starbuck returned the smile and clinked his glass against hers, "I guess we have." Chapter Ten Two days later, with the Fleet continuing in its state of celebration, Apollo found Adama still in his quarters, and totally immersed in work. "Father?" he inquired gently. Adama didn't respond. "Father?" Apollo repeated. He looked up, "Oh, I'm sorry Apollo. I've just finished going through the data the probe sent back." "What have you found out?" Adama sighed and shook his head sadly, "Nothing more significant than what we learned when we first picked up her transmissions. They're at least a thousand yahrens behind us technologically. They have no memory whatsoever of the expedition that colonized her, seven thousand yahrens ago. There's hardly any trace of it in their archeology as it is. As a matter of fact," he punched a button on the screen, "If it weren't for this, I almost would have wondered if this really was the thirteenth tribe." Apollo looked at the image on the screen and saw several large pyramid structures standing in what looked like a desert region. An uneasy flashback came to him as he recognized the structures as identical to the ones he had walked through in the ruins of the mother planet Kobol. Where Serina had died. "Apart from that there's not much else," Adama went on, "A few names from our society in ancient Earth culture and mythology. Some ancient costume designs. But even that minute trace of our civilization has no bearing on Earth as it is today. The planet Terra had more connections with the colonies than Earth does." "What could have happened?" Apollo mused, "How could the connection have been lost?" "We'll probably never know," his father sighed, "The only thing I can infer is that the thriteenth tribe's arrival on Earth was probably not an orderly one. And whatever happened to them after they settled, they obviously didn't have someone there to keep any records about the civilization they came from." For a moment, Apollo's mind drifted back to a time he'd spent fifteen yahrens ago in another dimension, and where he'd met a man kept alive for seven thousand yahrens named Lot. A man who had been part of the original journey from Kobol to Earth and had not been able to complete it. He wondered what that remarkable man would have thought if he'd been able to learn this information on what had happened to his brothers who had completed the journey. "And what's their status today?" Apollo finally came back to the present. "There's no unity at all on Earth," Adama sighed, "The people govern under the nation-state principle and as such, they inevitably war with each other." He absently leaned back in his chair, "We've been a united people for so long, Apollo, that I think we've forgotten the capacity for evil and violence that mankind is capable of. Earth is the perfect microcosm of that violent capability. Not that I'm saying that they're a totally barbaric race. Some of these nations are more advanced than others with regard to respecting basic human freedoms. And," he paused, "Although they don't worship as we do, in a real sense they worship the same God. The two leading religions of Earth bear a remarkable similarity to our own, with the concept of a single God and a universal moral code. They have a foundation for greatness. It's just that they've never had the time and the technology to achieve it. If indeed, that's what it would take." "Then I guess it's up to us to help them." Adama shook his head, "I always used to think that if we ever found a primitive Earth, then that would be the case. But the more time I spend going over this material, the more I'm convinced that the best thing we can do for Earth is to just leave her in peace." Apollo frowned, "Did I hear you right?" "Yes," Adama said firmly, "The thing that impresses me the most about Earth is the pride her people take in their heritage and their accomplishments. I'm certain they're well aware of their own imperfections, but they're possessed with a spirit of individualism and free will that they seem to value above all. If we were to appear and suddenly impose ourselves on Earth, we'd be taking that away from them." "What do you mean?" "I mean we'd never be accepted fully by them. Their links to our common heritage were severed too long ago. It's not as if they were sitting there waiting for some contact. They've become as far removed from us as any of the other isolated human settlements we passed along the way. They wouldn't see us as brothers of man, they'd see us as an alien race imposing itself on their free will." "How?" Adama sighed, "Well for one thing, our appearance would lead to a call for world unity. The end of national sovereignty and the nation- state principle as it is practiced on Earth. That's a concept that too many people are simply unprepared for. To an Earth inhabitant, totally uncognizant of alien races and alien threats like the Cylons, the very principles which we've governed ourselves by for so long are incomprehensible." "You really think it could cause problems?" "Very," his father nodded, "No matter how much good we have to offer them, in time they'd come to resent us for taking away that freedom they cherish. And the inevitable outcome would be bloodshed between them and us. I can't permit that. It would be wrong. If we weren't willing to impose ourselves on any of the other human settlements we've passed along the way, why should we regard Earth any differently? Would it have been any more right for us to settle on Terra? After all, we never considered imposing ourselves on them directly." "But Earth is our ultimate destiny," Apollo protested, "or so you've been telling us for fifteen yahrens." Adama leaned back in his chair and smiled thinly, "So I have. But you realize Apollo, that the circumstances that now confront us are a lot different from what they were only a few days ago." "Maybe," his son hesitated, "maybe if we just took our time revealing ourselves..." "Apollo," his father gently shook his head, "Be practical. It would take hundreds of yahrens to bring Earth up to our level. That would mean condemning the Galactica and all the others in the Fleet to centuries of more wandering in space, even if in only a wide circle. The people are tired Apollo. And now that the Cylon threat is no more, they're entitled to let all this end and give themselves something really constructive to do with their lives." "So what are you going to have us do?" Adama kept his head down, and then spoke with determination, "We turn the Galactica around...and we go home." "Home?" things were now moving much too fast for Apollo. "Home," he made eye contact with his son, "Back to our star system, and back to the colonies. Back to where we can do some good." Apollo's bewilderment only increased, "Are you serious?" "Very," he sighed, "You heard what Imperious Leader said. Thanks to Commander Cain, our home planets are ours for the taking. I think we should take advantage of the opportunity." Apollo dropped into a chair, still thunderstruck, "You think that's best for our people? To go back to twelve planets that are probably just rubble by now?" "Rebuilding the colonies will give us something to do," he said firmly, "I've just told you why this generation can't do a thing for Earth. If we're to give our people a decent chance to live again, then I say we should let them do it in their homes. Let them put their enterprise to use by rebuilding our very heritage." "But Father, that means another fifteen yahrens of flight all the way back across to the other end of the galaxy," Apollo protested. "Only if travelled at the same speed," Adama noted, "but I take it you're aware of Wilker's breakthrough on the hyperdrive tractor beam?" Light suddenly dawned on Apollo, "Of course. With every ship able to go at hyperspeed then that means the journey back would only take us a yahren." "Precisely," Adama nodded, "And what makes it even more practical is that there'd be no fuel problem. As the last battlestar built, the Galactica has reactor engines that can be self-generated by the particles of our hyperdrive. Therefore, if the opportunity is there for us, it makes more sense to go home." Apollo hesitated before responding, "Do you think the Council will approve this? Some of them might view it as too risky." "I've already consulted them about it," he said, "As far as they're concerned, they approve." The Deputy Fleet Commander shook his head, "I'm not sure Father. I wonder if you're being premature in giving up on Earth." "It's not a question of giving up on Earth," Adama dissented, "It's a question of what's best for our people. And you know Apollo, that ultimately this is the best way." Apollo settled deeper into his chair and seemed to silently contemplate for a moment. Then, he began to slowly shake his head in irony. "Does my decision still bother you, Apollo?" The executive officer looked his father in the eye, "I was just thinking of something. Something that happened a long time ago back on Kobol." Adama's expression remained stoic, as if he'd already figured out what his son was thinking. It took the Commander a moment to finally speak, "About that offer Baltar made to me in the tomb of the Ninth Lord?" Apollo nodded, "Father, have you ever stopped to think that maybe, despite how evil and despicable his act of treason was, he just might have been telling the truth about wanting to trick the Cylons and destroy their capital? He said a single battlestar could get back through the lines and destroy the home planet, and that's exactly what Cain was able to do." His father didn't change his expression and absently gazed down at his desk. "Father?" "I never gave it a micron's thought until yesterday," he said, "The way Baltar acted so ruthless and despicable following that incident up until when we captured him only seemed to confirm my instincts. But as a result of what we've now learned, yes, I have been thinking about it. Maybe I have to confront the prospect that when I rejected him on Kobol, I may have sent us down a path that was terribly wrong, because what I'm now having us do is the end result of what would have happened had I gone along with the plan and it had worked." He then looked back at his son, "But I can't let myself brood about any possible lost opportunities, Apollo. If I'm to believe that there is a God who controls the destiny of History, then I have to believe as the Book of the Word tells us, that He had a reason for this terrible course of events to happen as they did, and that we, as mere mortals only, can never fully comprehend what all of those reasons are. I think in the end, it'll be easier for all of us who look to the Almighty for strength to just accept events as they are and have been, and just move on. We'll be a lot better off emotionally if we just admit that defeating the Cylons could only have happened under these circumstances." Apollo rose from his chair, as if he seemed too emotionally spent to continue talking, "I think I've got a lot of people to talk to, to get this whole thing coordinated. I'll give you a full report later." As soon as his son had left the room, Adama turned around and once again found himself looking back into the star-filled expanse. So often, he had tried to prevent himself from looking at the tiny, distant points of light and wonder about the home worlds that had been left behind forever. Always, he had forced himself to think of them as distant memories of the past that would not and could not, ever be seen or touched again by human beings. And now, as the result of the greatest miracle he had ever beheld, that was about to change. He would end his days not in space as he had feared, or on the soil of the thirteenth tribe's world as he had hoped for so long, but would end them in a way he had never thought would be possible. He would end them at home. Once Adama had made his announcement, there was even more celebration and excitement than there had been after the battle. For so many of the Fleet's complement of 10,000, the knowledge that they would be returning to the homes that had become distant and dim memories over the last fifteen yahrens, represented the fulfillment of an even greater dream come true. As the Fleet now waited for Shadrach's team to install Dr. Wilker's components that would enable them to begin their long journey back, an anxious anticipation settled in. Apollo found himself off-duty in the Officers Club, enjoying a drink when he saw Troy enter. He signalled over to him, and his son joined him. "Good to see you," Apollo smiled, "Are you taking it easy too?" "Yeah," he nodded, "And among other things, I've had a lot of time to do some soul-searching." "In what way?" Troy sighed and sipped his drink, "About you and me. About all the felgercarb we went through a couple of yahrens ago." "All in the past son," Apollo said gently, "There's no need to ever talk about that again." He shook his head, "No Dad, I'm afraid there is. We buried the hatchet two yahrens ago, because you came to me on my terms and admitted that you'd been wrong to disown me for changing my name and all that. The reason we got back together was because I refused to give an inch and you gave in." His father tightened his grip on his glass, "So?" "So, I'm here to tell you that I'm sorry I made you do that. You weren't wrong Dad, I was." "Oh come on," Apollo said, "Don't think like that. It was my fault for not recognizing that you just wanted to grow up. That you didn't want to be the little kid playing with his daggit anymore. To think that you meant your mother's memory disrespect by changing your name was terrible of me." "It doesn't make a difference Dad. The fact is, I was wrong. The reason why I did all those rebellious things was because I believed in a giant lie." "I don't follow you." Troy sighed, "Let me put it this way. Going through that horrible combat out there, opened my eyes to a lot of things. I lost too many friends out there, you know. Especially Steele, my bunkmate from training." "I know," Apollo empathized, "I lost some friends too." "Yeah, but you were expecting it, weren't you? That even if the miracle did happen, and the Galactica survived, it was still going to be ugly." His father paused slightly and took another swallow, "I did." "Well that's the difference Dad. And that's why I did all the crazy things that drove us apart for two long yahrens." Troy leaned back in his chair, his voice full of regret, "Ever since I decided I wanted to be a warrior, I've never given enough thought to how brutal it is. I grew up with too many romantic fantasies about the excitement, and forgot about the tragedy of it all. And I should have known better. I stood there while you held my hand when we both watched Mother die. For some reason, I didn't let that lesson stay with me, and I almost feel as if that was really the big disgrace I caused to her memory." Apollo put his drink down and spoke with paternal affection, "Don't be so hard on yourself. You came through this nightmare and that means you're a damn good warrior. I'm proud of you son. And I also know that wherever your mother is, she's proud of you too." Troy smiled thinly and looked down, "It's not my performance that has me down, Dad. That I can live with. It's my attitude. This crazy, wide-eyed romanticism I've had ever since I was a kid." "I went through that too," Apollo said gently, "Every green warrior goes through that. With me, it happened when I went on my first combat flight at the battle of Orion. There was a cadet in our class, a great guy named Bacchus, who was the number-one practical joker of the entire Academy. His whole attitude toward everything, even combat, was happy- go-lucky to the max. And his attitude rubbed off on me quite a bit. He was like an older brother I never had. But when we went on our first combat flight, he was the first one killed. And that was my baptism of fire to how there's nothing romantic about combat, that it's just a lousy job that has to be done. What happened to you is no different from anyone else who went before you. But God Almighty Troy, don't brood about it. The war's over forever and you'll never have to worry about combat again." "I know," he smiled thinly, "But Dad, that attitude is what made me do all the things that drove a wedge between us. Changing my name, my habits, everything else. I caused a lot of unnecessary pain for all of us, and only now do I realize that it was all for nothing. I don't regret becoming a warrior, but I just wish I could have gone about it differently. If I had only known better, then you and I wouldn't have lost those two yahrens. Sure, it's good that we patched things up, but I shouldn't have made you give in. I was the one who should have apologized to you." Apollo looked at him for a long moment and then let out a sigh, "I'll be honest son. I'm finally glad to hear you say that. It was difficult, and well... I can't let you think that I should go blameless. I know I could have made it better if I'd just realized that you never meant any disrespect by what you did. It was just your way of trying to grow up." "In a way, I never did grow up. I just traded one childish image for another. And yesterday, that image was destroyed forever in the battle," he chuckled lightly, "Which is why from this day forward Dad, you can call me Boxey again. It's time I get back to who I really am." Apollo sucked in his breath and put a hand on his son's shoulder, "Thank you son," he whispered with emotion, "That really means a lot to me." And Boxey was not surprised to see that there were tears in his father's eyes. "But why aren't we going to Earth?" Teague asked with puzzlement as Sheba led the two siblings around the lush gardens of the agro-ship. "It's not easy to explain," his mother said. "I thought Earth was the wonderful place where everyone played and was happy all the time," Hera spoke up. Sheba knelt down and placed her hands on their shoulders, "We've found a better place to go to. We're going to where Mommy and Daddy were born and where we grew up." "You mean it's going to be just like it was for you?" Teague chimed. "No," she shook her head, "No it won't be just like it. The evil Cylons did a lot of bad things to Caprica. But now that we've chased them away forever, we're going to go back and fix all the bad things that were done." Just then, a beaming Apollo entered the gardens. "Your mother's right," he said as he came up to them, "There's gonna' be a lot to do when we get back there to fix all the bad things. But we're gonna' be needing your help too." "I'm ready to help," Teague suddenly stiffened as if he were at attention in a military inspection, "What can I do?" "Me too," Hera suddenly matched his pose, "I want to help too." Apollo laughed, "Well what's this I see? The two of you actually want to do the same thing?" "Why not?" Teague shot a glance at his sister who looked back at him with a smirk. "Yeah," she echoed, "Why not?" Apollo looked down at Sheba, who was smiling with pride and joy. "All right," their father said, "As long as you're willing to both d the same thing, suppose you two play a little hide-and-seek with your dad. You go ahead and I'll count to a hundred." He turned around and the two of them quickly ran off into the lush foliage of the gardens. The density always provided the perfect hiding places. "I wonder," Sheba mused, "What do you suppose it'll really be like when we get back?" "Hard to say," Apollo shrugged, "But we'll know soon enough." With his crew working around-the-clock, Shadrach had the necessary components installed in the Galactica within the space of a few days. Finally, the incredible moment came when Adama stood on the bridge and spoke to the entire Fleet over the unicom. "People of the Fleet," he said, "When this broadcast is finished, the long journey back to our home planets will begin. For all of us, this marks the beginning of the end of our long nightmare that has taken us this far across the universe. "When we return to our home planets, we can not expect to find much that still survives from the homes we knew. But together, we as a people will use that same united spirit that has kept us together these last fifteen yahrens, to carry us through an even greater challenge. A challenge that I know we will be able to meet with enthusiasm and sacrifice. "On a personal note, I would like to close by saying how much the courage and bravery each of you has displayed these last fifteen yahrens will live with me forever. It is that spiritual strength which ultimately deserves all the credit for our having survived this ordeal, and for having ultimately triumphed over the Cylon tyranny. "May the blessings of Almighty God and the Lords of Kobol be with you all." Adama set the unicom down and looked about the bridge. "All ships report that they're in formation," Athena announced. "Activate tractor beam," Adama commanded softly. "Tractor beam activated," Omega said. "All ships proceeding in tractor beam wake," Athena spoke up. Adama tensed slightly, but when he spoke it was the firmest command he'd ever given, "Colonel Apollo," he said, "Bring us to immediate light speed and standby for hyperdrive." Apollo smiled and turned to the helm, "Light speed, now!" To a stationary observer, it would have been an incredible sight. The great battlestar moving away at her top speed, and then almost immediately, the 186 surviving ships of the Fleet moving in her protective wake. Headed for the home they'd left so long ago. Behind them, the shining blue planet called Earth that had been the object of all their dreams and desires for fifteen yahrens, lay totally forgotten to them. But to one individual, who travelled in a lone shuttle on the vector three-one-six heading, Earth was now and forever the object of his thoughts. Baltar smiled again at the irony of how ridiculously easy his escape had been, particularly since he'd had so little time to plan for it, and because so much of it also rested on whether Adama would have done just what he expected him to do. From the moment Lucifer had revealed to him the truth of what had happened to the Cylon Empire, he had sensed that his ultimate interest might not lie with a Cylon victory. But only after the disastrous first engagement, when Baltar made his study of those strange transmissions, did he finally make his decision. Most of the transmissions had been garbled beyond recognition. But a smattering of them had been clear enough for him to add things up and realize what they meant. Earth. And an undoubtedly primitive Earth as well. That offered the only explanation why Adama had rushed in to engage them. If Earth had been the technologically advanced miracle Adama had hoped for, he would have let the Cylon Fleet find it and be ambushed then. With that realization, Baltar decided to tip the balance in Adama's favor and pave the way for his own escape. He had begun by destroying his own baseship. While Lucifer had waited for him in the shuttle bay, he had gone down to the lower decks, where he knew that the breaching of one more compartment would destroy the ship's structural integrity. He had disposed of the guard on duty and then placed an explosive charge on the wall that would breach the compartment. It was timed to go off in twenty centons, which gave him enough time to get off the ship. With the playing field now even, Baltar knew Adama would go on the offensive. And that's when he implemented the next phase of his plan by giving Imperious Leader deliberately faulty strategic advice by having all of their fighters avoid the Galactica and engage the Fleet. He knew Adama would want only to go to the source and destroy the baseship. Adama had acted just as he thought. And when Imperious Leader had told him to issue the recall order, he had simply walked out of the throne room and gone to the landing bay, where he commandeered a shuttle and left the last Cylon baseship to its doom. And now, he was headed for Earth. By conserving his fuel he'd make it in two days flight time. He had no way of knowing if Adama now realized that the Cylon Empire was now extinct, but if he did then he doubted that he'd ever see anyone from the Galactica again. If Adama already realized how primitive Earth was, then he wasn't going to bother with it. And if Adama knew that Caprica and all the other colonies were now available to him once again, he might just turn the Galactica around and go back to where he came from. If so, the way was clear for Baltar to make full use of Earth. And what would he do, on this strange new world where he would possess more intelligence than any other person on the planet? His first instinct had been to capitalize on his superior intelligence and use it to gain control of Earth. He'd land his shuttle in the largest city on the planet and present himself as a visitor from an advanced civilization who could provide Earth with the answers to all her problems. And he'd be treated as a prince. The power he'd desired all his life would finally be his. But as the shuttle drew closer to Earth, doubts suddenly entered his mind. Was that what he really wanted? When he saw Imperious Leader's baseship explode, he'd felt a strange sense of serenity come over him. As if a burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders. At first he couldn't understand it, but now he wondered if it was a sense that at long last, he'd performed restitution for the race he'd betrayed so long ago. Whether that had been his intent or not, that had been the net outcome. He had to admit that there was a lot of irony in how things had turned out. Fifteen yahrens after he'd made it possible for the Cylons to destroy human civilization, he'd now made it possible for the remnants of that civilization to destroy all that remained of the Cylons. And in so doing, he'd allowed his greatest enemy Adama to live and take the long journey back home. What could have driven him to such an end? Self-preservation alone? Or perhaps...a desire to atone for his past sins? He wondered. While he had always denied it to himself, there had been isolated moments during his exile when the loneliness had made him wonder about repenting for all that he'd done to his fellow humans. Had that been a subconscious desire of his in more ways than he thought? Had some tiny spark of that desire to make things right again still existed even after Adama had spurned him at Kobol? He wasn't sure of the answer. Just as he wasn't sure any more whether he wanted power or something different. Perhaps a life of quiet anonymity, where he could help his fellow humans with his knowledge through more altruistic means. A chance to have the kind of life he hadn't known since long before the Holocaust. When life had been so much gentler, simpler and kinder. When he could honestly admit to himself for the first time in so long, he had been happy. Baltar checked his chronometer. Ten more centars and he'd be there. And then he'd know the answer...And perhaps finally make peace with himself as well. Epilogue The sun was setting on the western seashore of Caprica. On the beach, Apollo and Sheba stood together and watched in awe as the sky changed to a rich reddish-gold hue. "I never thought in my wildest imagination that I'd see this sight again," he whispered, "I used to come out here every night when I growing up. It always made me feel good to be alive." "I know how you feel," she said, "My family lived on the eastern shore. But we used to make quite a few visits to this part of Caprica as well." "This is one part of Caprica that actually still looks the same," he said, "Almost as if the last fifteen yahrens never happened." Sheba sighed and they resumed their walk down the beach. "Did you go see it?" Apollo broke the silence. "Yes," her tone was even, "I went there. I finally had to come face- to-face with my father's grave," she threw her head back, "You wouldn't believe how massive the wreckage is. Apparently, when my father knew that the Pegasus was doomed, he decided to bring her in and crash right into the heart of the Cylon command center on the planet. There are almost a million pieces of broken centurions alone." Apollo hesitated slightly, "Any bodies?" "As a matter of fact there were," her voice didn't change, "None of them recognizable. But I did recognize the insignia markings on some of the uniforms. My father and Colonel Tolen were both at their posts on the bridge when it happened." Her husband remained silent. Sheba paused to inhale the stiff ocean breeze before continuing, "It'll take a while, but they think they can recover the logs and telemetry tapes from the wreckage. And then, once they've restored them, I'll have a chance to learn the full story about what happened, from the micron the Pegasus disappeared." "That should be interesting," Apollo felt relieved that she was taking the whole thing so well. Sheba looked at him and smiled, "It will be, when the time comes, but I'm in no rush. I know why my father did what he did, and as far as I'm concerned, the present and the future means a lot more to me. I can honestly say that the last demon has been chased from my mind. When I looked at that wreckage, it was sad, but I could almost hear his voice telling me that he really wasn't there. That he was someplace else keeping his eye on me and hoping that I was looking ahead." "Another vision?" he smiled back at her, and she let out a chuckle. "No, nothing dramatic like that. Just a feeling. And when I finally left, I knew that I was at total peace with myself." "I'm glad." "How about you? Did you go to where your house used to be?" "Yeah," he nodded, "The Cylons built an administrative building on the site. The only thing recognizable was the view." As the continued to walk along the shoreline, Apollo let out a wistful sigh, "We already went through the wreckage the night of the Holocaust. I think we left all our mourning for Mother and Zac behind, back then. Being there today didn't seem to affect us in the least." "That's just as well," Sheba shrugged, "None of us have any time to indulge in sorrow over the memories that coming back here brings out in us. There's just too much work that needs to be done." "And how," her husband nodded, "Fortunately not all of the cities are gutted wrecks so some of them could be reactivated in as little as a sectar. And you won't believe the talk I had with Dr. Wilker when we made our first survey of the planet. He thinks he's come up with a solution that'll increase our manpower capacity to rebuild the colonies." "How?" Apollo smiled, "The good doctor spent the last yahren working on the other pet project that's been bothering him for fourteen yahrens. A sectan ago, he finally figured out how to override the main programming unit of a Cylon centurion. Didn't seem like it would count for much except to put on display in a museum, but when he saw all the dead Cylons lying around here it gave him a brilliant idea. He says he can reactivate all the centurions we need and reprogram them to serve humanity and assist in the rebuilding effort." Sheba's face grew incredulous, "Are you trying to tell me that human civilization is going to be rebuilt by Cylons?" "Exactly." "Lovely, isn't it?" Starbuck said as he and Athena stood on the deck of the abandoned building that lay on the site of where she'd grown up. "It is," she nodded, "It's enough to remind me that we've truly come home." Starbuck smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist, "Remember the first time I took you for a walk down the beach about twenty yahrens ago?" "Yes," Athena smiled mischievously, "the evening ended with me slapping you in the face because you came on a little too strong." "Well Athena, I hope I'm not coming on too strong tonight," he said as he quietly slipped a ring onto her finger. She looked up at him in disbelieving awe. "I love you Athena," he said with deep sincerity, "In the last yahren I feel like I've really gotten to know you for the first time. And I want you to be the woman for the next phase of my life." He pulled her close to him, "Marry me." Inside, Athena felt her composure melt, and slowly they met in a long passionate kiss. "Yes," she whispered, "and this time Starbuck, you're not going to let me break my promise." Below, Apollo and Sheba had joined Adama at the base of the building. The sun had dropped farther into the ocean and its last rays were fading. "Well," Sheba said, "From what I gather, our first day back saw a lot of progress made." "Yes," her father-in-law nodded, "But it's going to take a long time. Judging from the overall condition of all the planets, it could take a hundred yahrens to begin bringing us back to what we had before the Holocaust," he paused, "But no matter how long it takes us, it won't be anywhere near as long as it would have to bring Earth to our level, so I don't feel daunted by the challenge." "I wonder," Apollo mused, "Do you think we'll ever make direct contact with Earth?" "Perhaps," Adama conceded, "But if we ever do, it'll be on their terms. And I think that's the way it should be." The sun's last rays disappeared and for now, Caprica was in darkness. But they knew it was only temporary. Tomorrow would bring a new dawn and the beginning of a bright new day for humanity. After all that humanity had been through for so long, the days could only be brighter from now on. The End