LIVING LEGEND OF OUTER SPACE
A Battlestar Galactica/Star Trek/Lost in Space x-over fanfic by Paul
Robison

All material used without permission and without hope of monetary gain
and are copyright 1965, 1966, 1978 by Glen Larson, Gene Roddenberry and
Irwin Allen.

Spoiler:
Battlestar Galactica 6:  The Living Legend copyright1982 Berkely Books,
N.Y., N.Y.

Prequels:
Flight Into The Unknown by Paul Robison
Gun on Desert Planet Equis by Paul Robison

Sequels:
The Cylons' Curse by Paul Robison 
A Visitor From Hades by Paul Robison  
Space Murderer by Paul Robison  
Greetings from Space Family Robinson  
The Lord Of Nightmares by Paul Robison 
Death to Jeremiah by Paul Robison 


Special Guest Stars:
Mr. Spock (Star Trek)
The planet Vulcan (Star Trek)
Tiabo (Lost in Space, Season 2, "The Forbidden World")

Prologue

     Troy sat at the console in his cabin aboard the Galactica.  He was
alone and he stared at the screen, upon which appeared the face of a very
old man.  The man was Troy's adoptive grandfather, and, when he'd been
alive, the commander of the battlestar Galactica.  
     "Troy," said Adama, "I know it's you because no one else will ever
receive the key to this program.  If you're viewing this then I must have
died.  Perhaps, I have no way of knowing.  I have only just passed away
or perhaps I have been dead for an extensive period of time.  There's no
telling what lies ahead in the future and I have no way of knowing when
you'll be hearing these words---if, the Lords forbid, you hear them at
all.  But if this is so, then I know that God has watched over you and
that you are now the commander of the Galactica."
     Adama's image paused.
     "As I speak these words, I know that I am dying.  It does not
disturb me. I am prepared to die.  I have lived a long and fruitful life
and the Lords of Kobol have seen fit to allow me to survive this long.  I
can ask for no more than that and I am content.
     "If there was one thing I could've asked for which I have not
received, it is that my son did not outlive me.  I---I still feel his
loss.  When I think of all the yahrens that he served under me as strike
commander, the finest Viper pilot I have ever known, the bravest warrior,
it pains me  when I think that in all those yahrens I never once told him
that I loved him.  Oh, he knew I did, but it would've meand so much more,
I'm sure, had I ben able to say those words aloud."
     Adama's image sighed deeply.  For a moment, Troy thought that he
would not be able to continue, but then he spoke again.
     "Your father was a great man, Troy.  You were but a mere child when
he died.  Do you remember?  We all used to call you 'Boxey.' I remember
how you came to hate that name as you grew older and we had to find
another for you, since we never learned your real one.  But that's beside
the point.  Forgive an old man's babbling.  I remember how you fought
back tears the day Apollo didn't return from his mission.  In a way, you
were wiser than I was that day, for you knew the truth, while I foolishly
allowed myself to hope that some miracle would restore him to me once
again, as had happened the last time he failed to return from a mission."
     Adama paused again, thinking back.
     "That was when we hit upon Cain," he said.  "Your father came back
from the dead that day and brought another with him.  He had been a good
friend and I had thought him dead for over two yahrens.  You were very
young then, Troy, and I don't know if you'll remember, but he saved all
our lives.
     "That is but one chapter in the history of the Galactica. I had
hoped that her next commander after me would be my son, but that was not
to be.  The Galactica is yours now, Troy, and it is for you to decide her
destiny.  But before you determine the future of your ship, you should
know her past.
     "It's all here, in this program, the key to which no one has but
you.  These are my journals, Troy.  I have kept them fastidiously ever
since that day, back on Caprica, that the Galactica was commissioned and
mine became her guiding hand.  She has known no master but me in all
those yahrens, and now she passes on to you.  You are the first.  What
you'll do with them after you have seen them is up to you.  Scan them in
order, if you prefer, from the beginning to the end...or from the present
point to the beginning....or according toyour own memory.  If there are
incidents that you remember, the computer can locate those sections of
the journals for you.  All you have to do is ask.
     "My last words to you, Troy, are these:  circumstances made it
impossible for you to have anything remotely resembling a normal
childhood. For that, I am truly sorry, even though you've grown into a
man worthy of my respect.  We tried our best to make a home for the
children in the fleet, for they were our hope for the future, but in your
case, it was very hard.  You lost your real parents when Caprica was
desteroyed.  You gained a new father in Apollo and you came to love him,
only to lose your father all over again.  You gained a new mother in
Serina, only to lose your mother for a second time when Serina died. 
Twice orphaned, you became a very quiet child, so different from the way
you once had been.
     "I tried to be the best grandfather I knew how, but that was not
enough.  Having twice been orphaned, you put up barriers that no one
could get through.  You didn't want to love anyone ever again, for fear
of losing them.  It was a long time before anyone could break through to
you.  I have some knowledge of how you must have felt for, I, too, had
barriers of my own.
     "You never really knew your father, Troy.  Learn about him now. 
It's all here.  God knows, it's all that I have left.  But before I leave
you, there's one more thing I want to say. I almost said it to Apollo,
that time with Cain, but I didn't, and I regret it to this day.  I have
since said it to you, but I want to say it once again.
     "I love you. And farewell."
     The screen went blank.
     Troy sat for a long time in silence.  Finally, he leaned forward to
the console to begin Adama's journals.
     Yes, he would start with Cain.

*****

Apollo:

     For the Viper fighter pilots of the battlestar Galactica, there is
no such thing as a routine patrol.  Both Starbuck and I know that routine
breeds smugness.  We can't afford to think of any of our recon missions
as "just another routine patrol," in spite of the countless missions that
we fly, in spite of the sameness of many of those missions.
     There had been a time, when both Starbuck and I had first entered
the cockpits of our Vipers as newly graduated cadets, when we had felt
the keen thrill anticipation that came to all newly commissioned officers
embarking upon their maiden flights. Although all cadets have
opportunities to solo prior to receiving their commissions, it is not the
same as piloting a Viper fighter for the first time without each little
action being observed and evaluated by an instructor.  Back then, we had
known that there would be no one waiting for us when they returned, if we
returned, to either compliment us on our performance or to point out the
mistakes we made.  If there was to be a test, it would be administered by
Cylon fighters.  And there would be no opportunity to make up for a bad
score.
     Yet, even though our baptism of fire had not come with our first
missions, the thrill of piloting our Vipers for the first time as
officers of the fleet had not been diminished.  It was only much later
that we became aware of the dangers of routine.
     As children, we had both dreamed of spaceflight, but as adults, we
learned the sad reality that spaceflight was often boring.  Once the
novelty wore off, the fascination faded away.  To a seasoned Viper pilot,
flying a scouting mission is as mundane as walking.  We pilot our Vipers
as though the sleek machines are extensions of our bodies.  We can
perform most of their functions without thinking, automatically, much as
it takes no thought to put one foot in front of the other.  But with the
ever present danger of a Cylon fighter squadron appearing out of nowhere,
there is no room for a pilot to relax into a comfortable feeling of
routine.  If such an attack comes, there is no time for hesitation. 
Expert pilots have been blasted to smithereens because they allowe
themselves to become distracted, lost in reverie on a "routine" mission. 
Every mission must be flown as if we might encounter the enemy at any
time, even if there is no reported Cylon activity in the sector we
patrol.  A Viper pilot must remain constantly on the alert.  Paranoia is
a very useful quality in a warrior.
     Still, functioning at a peak level of awareness is exhausting. 
Whenever a pilot begins to feel the strain of maintaining a constant
state of vigilance, his mind starts to wander.  To prevent this, pilots
keep up a steady stream of chatter amongst themselves whenever they fly
patrols.  It is their way of reaching out across the distance that
separates their fighters, a way of staying alert, of having the
comforting feeling that a friend was near to lend a hand if need be.  The
camaraderie that results from this seemingly idle chatter is something
only a pilot understands.  After returning from a mission, then there
will be time in which to unwind, to relax with launch crews, friends,
fellow shipmates.
     For me, if the patrol shows that the Galactica and her rag-tag fleet
are in no imminent danger of attack from Cylon forces, there will be time
to spend alone with my son, Boxey.  If she can find time off from her
duties, my sister will often join us, as well.  I cherish those private
moments with Boxey and Athena.  They are my family.  Even though I had
adopted Boxey, who had been orphaned when our colony, Caprica, had been
destroyed, I love the boy no less than I would have had he been my own. 
Mine and Serina's that is.
     There is a void within me that has been there since the day Serina
died.  There are ways for me to avoid that gut-wrenching feeling of
despair whenever I think of life without her.  In the heat of battle, I
never feel the loss.  Sometimes I use my duties aboard the Galactica as a
shield to protect myself from feeling the pain, but all efforts at
escaping my grief are, at best, temporary solutions.  I've told himself
that, with time, the pain will diminish.  But no one knows just how much
time they have.
     The war had brought Serina and me together and the war had torn us
apart.  Our time together had been unendurably short....Whenever I think
of Serina, my vision will begin to blur with barely restrained tears.  I
cannot permit myself to cry while on a mission, or in view of my
shipmates.  But sometimes, in my private quarters, the nightmare visions
of Caprica burning will rewaken me and, instinctively, I will reach out
for Serina.  And she will not be there.  Then, where no one else can see
or hear me, I will permit myself to grieve.  I weep for the loss of my
wife, for the loss of Caprica and the other colony worlds, and for the
loss of the close relationship I once had with my father.
     I love Commander Adama and I know that he loves me, but we can never
go back to the way things once had been, before I had won my commission,
before the Cylon treachery that made us all orphans of the sky.  The bond
between I and my father remains, as does the love, but the war means that
before Adama is my father, he is my commander.  That places an often
painful, but necessary distance between us.
     Adama bears the awesome burden of responsibility for the survivors
of the holocaust.  Is their welfare and their survival that is paramount. 
If that means sending me out to die, Adama will do it.  It is his duty,
as it is mine, to lay down our lives, if need be, to protect the fleet. 
It is something we understand.  Both of us accept it.  We have no choice.
     Starbuck, on the other hand, has his own ways of spending his time
alone following a mission, of dealing with the pressure of our situation.
In a way, it is not as hard for Starbuck as it is for me, because
Starbuck thrives on pressure.  And Starbuck thrives on war.  That's the
most difficult thing for him to deal with.  Starbuck isn't a war lover. 
There is insanity in that.  He despises the war with the Cylons with a
fury unmatched by anyone's save, perhaps, mine.  Yet Starbuck is a
warrior.  He knows that it is what he was born to be.  During his
off-duty centons, he likes to pass the time playing pyramid and drinking
ambrosa with the other pilots; he enjoys the company of women and then,
in turn, like him.  But Starbuck knows that the only time he ever really
comes to life is when he is in the cockpit of his Viper, engaging Cylon
fighters in the biggest gamble of them all, the deadly game of life and
death.
     Like me, Starbuck had been born during the war.  He has never known
anything else, none of the survivors have.  It seems to him that the
human race has been at war with the Cylons since the dawn of time,
fighting for their lives against an enemy dedicated to the total
annihilation of the human race.  He longs for peace.  Despite that,
Starbuck often wonders if there will be a place for him in a time of
peace.  He is a warrior, a maverick, a gambler.  In his quiet, private
moments, he wrestles with the dilemma of his own existence.  He wonders
what it is about him that fills him with such vibrant vitality each time
he enters combat.  What is it that leads him to take chances no one else
will take?  What strange, perverse aspect of his personality drives him
to gamble with the death god, Anubis, often taking foolhardy risks, just
so he can revel in the thrill of beating Death?  When sleep will not
come, Starbuck will lie in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, wondering
what kind of man lives for the risk of dying.  He does not know the
answer, and sometimes he's not sure he wants to know.  It is a side of
him that no one knows about.  To the crew of the Galactica, Lieutenant
Starbuck is a carefree rouge, a highly-skilled pilot, an inverterate
gambler, a womanizer, and a rake.  The old military catchphrase "Never
volunteer for anything" has become known to the men and women of the
Galactica as "Starbuck's Law."  Yet those who know him well, especially
those who serve with him, know that in spite of his reputation for
selfishness and self-preservation, Starbuck somehow always winds up
flying those missions that, as he puts it, no one else will take on a
bet.
     It's a hard life.  A life that must be lived entirely for the
present.  We can allow ourselves to have hopes for the future, but as
warriors we must live one centon at a time.  We must fly our missions
with our eyes glued to our instruments, never allowing our attention to
wander.  To the younger men and women in the rag-tag fleet, especially
the cadets, the life of a fighter pilot seems glamorous and full of
adventure.  Starbuck and I, both seasoned veterans of the war, know
better.  War has no glamour.  And the taste of adventure sours rapidly
when the adrenaline rush that comes with combat wears off and the
profound exhaustion sets in, the exhaustion and the shakes which every
pilot experiences, but none will admit to, even to each other.

*****

Chapter One: Either They're Not Dead Or--We Are?

     Sitting in the cockpit of his Viper, Apollo handled the controls
with an ease that came only after yahrens of steady practice.  His gaze
never left the scanner.  He was locked into a mode of hair-trigger
awareness and it felt good to know that Starbuck's Viper paced him.  The
two men functioned together like a well-oiled machine.  Despite the
differences in their personalities, as Viper pilots, they complemented
each other perfectly.
     They were nearing the return point of what had been an uneventful
scouting patrol when something made the hairs at the base of Apollo's
neck bristle.  He shivered slightly, as if he had just felt something
crawling there.
     "Starbuck?" Apollo said, anxiously watching his scanner.
     "Yo!" Starbuck's voice came through loud and clear over the
comcircuit in Apollo's helmet.
     "I don't know what it is," Apollo said, "but I'm getting the funny
feeling that we're not alone out here."
     Starbuck allowed his gaze to leave his instruments momentarily.  He
glanced over at Apollo's Viper flying alongside his.  He had a gambler's
instincts, and no gambler ever dismissed an intuitive feeling.  Starbuck
was well-known for his gambler's luck, but there were times when Apollo's
combat instincts overshadowed Starbuck's famous hunches, approaching
clairvoyance.
     "I've got nothing on my scanner," Starbuck said, tensing slightly.
     Inside Apollo's cockpit, two warning blips appeared upon his scanner
screen.
     "Starbuck...."
     The other pilot knew that tone of voice all too well.
     "Oh, oh....."
     Starbuck licked his lips nervously, his gaze riveted to his scanner
screen.  It remained clear.  He leaned forward slightly to adjust its
directional mode, fine-tuning the range.
     "I don't have a thing," he said. "There's nothing in front of us."
     "I'm on rear scan," Apollo said. "I've got two blips behind us..."
     "Frak!  How close?" Starbuck switched to rear scan and it was at
that precise moment that they came under fire as beams of energy,
blinding bright, lanced through space all around them, narrowly missing
both their ships.  "That close, huh?"
     "They're coming up on us fast!" Apollo said. "And we don't have much
fuel to spare for evasive action.  It doesn't look too good. I'm going
right...."
     "I'll take the left," said Starbuck, feeling the familiar surge of
adrenaline kicking in.  "Good luck, good buddy."
     "We'll need it," Apollo said. "Dispatching automatic distress signal
to fleet.  See you later...."
     Apollo hit the switch that sent the distress call back to the
Galactica.  It would keep on transmitting until he shut it off or was
blown to bits.  A light on his console began to flash red as the call
went out, even as both pilots, moving together like clockwork, rolled
their Vipers in opposite directions, separating in an effot to avoid the
laser fire of their pursuers.

*****

     Sheba swore to herself as she observed the two ships splitting up,
rolling right and left.  They were still too far away for her to get a
clear visual on them, but she took no chances with Cylon fighters.  The
two ships she was pursuing with her wingmate, Spock, would not slip away. 
She had fired as soon as they were in range and she was sure that she had
not rushed her shot, yet she had missed.  Despite their advantage of
surprise, the two ships had reacted almost instantaneously.
     It's almost as if they knew we were coming up on them, Sheba
thought.  It appeared that yahrens of fighting was beginning to make the
Cylons better flyers.  An unsettling thought.  She heard Spock's monotone
commentary through her helmet's comcircuit and she knew that the sudden
maneuver of their quarry had impressed him, as well.  But there was no
time to pay grudging respects to the enemy pilots for their flying
skills.  They both ahd their work cut out for them now that they had lost
the advantage of surprise.
     "I'll pick up the one on the right," Sheba said, angling her Viper
to follow Apollo's craft.
     Inside his cockpit, Spock, the green-skinned, pointed eared Colonial
pilot from the planet Vulcan, touched the horsehead insignia emblazoned
on his helmet.  It was a private thing with him, the gesture was only
ritual, but touching his helmet insiginia was a way of hoping that the
fortunes of his commander would be his own as well.
     "I will target the one on the left," said Spock.  "And return to
assist you with the other one in a half-micron."
     "Assuming I'll need your help," Sheba replied.
     The pursuing Vipers separated, rolling to either side, and the chase
was on.  Coming in from behind gave Sheba and her wingmate an advantage. 
The one thing the Cylon fighters had in common with the design of the
Vipers was that they had no firepower from the rear.  Fighter craft were
designed to be as light as possible, both for the sake of economy and
because of all ships, the sleek fighter craft had the highest mortality
rate.  A lighter faster craft was easier to prepare for battle and easier
to launch with speed.  Most of the ship's weight was in the fuel it
carried.  Fighters were designed for speed and maneuverability.  Putting
in aft laser batteries would have meant sacrificing precious weight and
room for fuel.  All a fighter was was a vehicle for carrying a minimal
amount of laser batteries as far and as quickly as possible within the
limitations of its design.  It carried no more and no less than was
thought necessary to get the job done.  Which, in their present
circumstances, was fortunate for Sheba and Spock, because that mean that
so long as their quarry took evasive action, they could not fire.  About
the only way the enemy ships could fire in their present predicament
would be if they used their maneuvering turbos to cause them to tumble,
thereby reversing their positions, but that meant exposing a greater
surface area while they were executing their tumbling maneuver,
presenting a bigger target.  Not even Cylons were that stupid!
     The only chance they had was to continue their evasive action, in
the hopes of causing Spock and Sheba to fail to properly anticipate their
flight paths.  Then they might have a chance either to run for it or to
attempt a reversal, getting in behind them.  Sheba was not about to let
that happen.  Using every ounce of skill and intuition she had acquired
from yahrens of combat experience, she matched the enemy ship move for
move.  And it took every ounce of skill, at that.  Sheba bit her lower
lip as she caught herself just in time to avoid getting faked out.
     The bastard's good, she thought.  Better than he's got any right to
be. But most of the pressure was on him.  He could not return her fire
from his present position, and taking evasive action gave her a chance to
close the distance between them, so long as she didn't make any mistakes.
     Spock was having just as rough a time of it.  Just as he would get
his opponent in his sights, the ship would dart to one side, causing his
shot to go wide of the mark.  He regretted his earlier promise that he
would dispose of the ship in "half a micron." It was taking considerably
longer than that.  The pilot of the ship he chased was an absolutely
first-rate flyer.  Spock shook his head.  He hadn't seen anyone handle a
fighter craft like that in yahrens.  Not since....
     As she closed with Apollo's ship, Sheba flicked a switch on her
console that would enable her to pick up a lifeform reading on the enemy
pilot.  There was something bothering her.  As the distance between the
two ships lessened, she could see that there was something about that
fighter's configuration that seemed very familiar, that seemed wrong. 
Either the Cylons were suddenly using a brand new design or....
     She stared at the scanner and her eyes grew wide as she saw the
readout.
     LIFEFORMS...HUMAN....HUMAN.....HUMAN....
     Spock!  She had to stop him before it was too late.
     She shouted into her helmet mike.  "Spock!  Cease fire!  Cease
fire!"
     His voice came back to her over the comcircuit.
     "Ceasing fire would be an illogical maneuver, Sheba.  Commander Cain
will surely discipline us severely if we permit them to escape.  We have
already reported contact and I'm in the process of...."
     "They're human, Spock!"
     "What?"
     "I said...they're human!"
     Spock wasn't sure he'd heard right.
     "That is not possible, Sheba," he said. "It's either a trick or a
scanner malfunction...."
     He flipped his own scanner to lifeform readout and, if a Vulcan
could be shocked by something he had seen, Spock was surely so.  It
couldn't be.  It was....illogical.
     "Fascinating," he said softly.
     Sheba's voice came back to him.
     "Switching to unicom...."
     She switched on the hailing frequency that would broadcast her
message to the other ships.  Vipers.  They were Vipers!
     "Attention," Sheba hailed the ships.  "Attention....attention...This
is Silver Spar group leader commanding Viper pilots to slow to surrender. 
We are locked on target...."

*****

     There was no mistaking the human voice that came over his
comcircuit.  Even as he continued evasive action, Starbuck's mind raced. 
Silver Spar Squadron?  What in Hades?  It could easily be a trick, a
vocal synthesizer, it had been tried before.  Whoever they are, Starbuck
though, they're very good.  Too good.  No matter what he tried, he
couldn't shake the pilot on his tail.  He flipped his own rear scanner to
lifeform readout.  Good Kobol, a human in one of the ships and
a---Vulcan?!---in the other.
     "Apollo!"
     "I heard," Apollo said. "It checks.  I've got them on scanner; one
reads Colonial human, one reads Vulcan, but it could still be some kind
of trick.  The Cylons could have come up with something neew we don't
know about.  But there's no getting away, Starbuck. Whoever they are,
they've got us."
     He switched his comcircuit to unicom frequency.
     "This is Captain Apollo, strike commander of the battlestar
Galactica.  Please identify yourself."
     He heard the woman's voice come back over his comcircuit, talking to
her wingmate.
     "Spock?"
     "I heard him.  But it can't be.  They're all dead.  It can't
possibly...."
     Apollo heard Starbuck's voice cut in.
     "Spock?  Did she say Spock?"
     "I do indeed recognize your voice, sir." The one called Spock sound
as if he had just seen a ghost.  "You can only be none other than
Lieutenant Starbuck, of the Blue Squadron."
     Apollo heard the man called Spock give Starbuck the traditional
Vulcan greeting:  "Live long and prosper."
     "Apollo!" Starbuck's voice registered shock and disbelief. "It is,
it's Spock!  Don't you remember?  The son of Sarek, the Vulcan ambassador
to the Council of Twelve!  The only Vulcan ever to have volunteered to
serve in the Colonial Service!  He was in our squadron until....."
     Starbuck's voice trailed off.
     "Until he transferred to the Fifth Fleet," Apollo finished for him. 
"I remember.  And they were all wiped out in the Battle of the Oasis of
Utopia!"
     "Two yahrens ago," said Starbuck.  "But either they're not dead
or....
     "We are?" said Apollo.  "Don't go spacehappy on me, Starbuck. 
There's got to be some kind of rational explanation.  Either way, they
could've had us by now if they wanted us dead.  I think we'd better do
just as the lady said."

*****

Chapter Two: The Pegasus

     Flight Officer Tiabo looked up from his screens on the command
bridge of the Pegasus.
     "Inform Commander Cain," he said to one of the officers standing by.
     The patrol was escorting two ships back to the battlestar.  Two
Viper fighters!  He switched the comcircuit to public address mode and
sat stunned, along with the rest of the men and women (some of them
human, some of them alien) on the bridge, as they listened to the
exchange between the members of their patrol and the pilots of the two
Vipers they were bringing in .
     "Spock"---the man whose voice came over the comcircuit was named
Starbuck, a name that seemed to ring a bell with Tiabo----"if that's
really you, God, I can't believe it!  Tell us what happened!  How in
Hades did you survive?"
     Sheba's voice cut in.
     "You will maintain silence until we've landed aboard the battlestar
Pegasus."
     "The Pegasus!"The new voice Tiabo heard was Apollo's.  They were
disregarding Sheba's order to maintain silence.  Under the circumstances,
Tiabo thought, he could hardly blame them.  It had to have been as much
of a shock to them as it was to him. "That's just not possible," said
Apollo.
     "The Pegasus was Cain's ship," said Starbuck.
     "The greatest military commander of them all," replied Apollo. "He
was my idol!"
     Sheba's irate voice cut in once more.
     "You're idol's going to order you blasted to space dust if you don't
shut off your transmitter.  In case you clowns don't know it, we're in a
sector controlled by the Cylons."
     "Oh, my Lord...." Apollo went on as if he hadn't heard her.  They
had just come wihin visual range of the Pegasus, floating majestically in
space. "It's not a dream," Apollo said in an awestruck voice, "it is the
Pegasus! Commander Cain's flagship!"
     The battlestar Pegasus was  a sister ship to the Galactica, and
looked identical to Adama's ship in every way, except for the fact that
the Pegasus was slightly older, having been commissioned several yahrens
before Adama's battlestar.  As they approached the Pegasus, Apollo and
Starbuck could see the difference between her and their own base ship. 
The Pegasus was scarred.  They could see where she had taken some severe
damage amidships, damage that had been repaired, but still it was the
sort of damage that would've sent any other battlestar back for
refitting.  Only there was no longer anywhere to go for that.  Her hull
was creased and pitted, burned in many places.  The Pegasus looked like
an old, embattled warrior.  Battlestars of the Columbia-class were the
finest achievements of the Colonies, marvels of sophisticated technology
that were capable of taking an incredible amount of abuse, and from what
they could see of the Pegasus, it was clear to both Apollo and Starbuck
that Cain had been none too gentle with her.
     "By the Lords of Kobol," Starbuck said, "will you look at that? 
What in God's name is holding her together---spittle?"
     Inside her Viper, Sheba clenched her fists, furious with the Viper
pilots they were shepherding back to the Pegasus. They were acting like
two awestruck cadets.
     "They won't shut up," sahe said.  Tiabo wasn't sure if she was
addressing her remarks to him or to Spock.  "They're acting as if they've
just seen a ghost."
     "I'm still not sure I haven't," said Apollo.
     Tiabo knew that Cain was doubtless listening in his quarters.  He
wondered what the commander made of this development.  Here they were,
fighting for their lives in the middle of Cylon-controlled territory, and
two strange Viopers appear out of nowhere.  Where had they come from? 
The voices of the two pilots seemed human, but Cylons were very devious
opponents.  It could be some sort of ruse, a trick to sneak two mock
Viper fighters aboard the Pegasus.  There could even be some sort of
explosive devices....Just to be safe, Tiabo ordered a full compliment of
warriors to the landing bay.
     The four fighters slowed, using their forward thrusters to brake as
they made their landing approach.  They lined up on the hatchway and
waited for the go-ahead from the bridge of the battlestar.  Cautiously,
Tiabo gave them their clearance.
     One at a time, they eased their ships forward toward the giant
hatchway with the glowing perimeter of the landing bay with its force
field that kept the warm molecules of air inside from absconding into
space.  As each Viper approached the force field, millimicrons before
contact, the black boxes wired iinto their onboard computers were
triggered automatically.  The force field's perimeter indicator lights
strobed briefly, rapidly, as the ships passed through the force field, as
if through a semi-permeable membrane.  The entrance of the craft was
accompanied by a popping sound as a little of the atmosphere inside
escaped, although not enough to affect the environment inside the landing
bay.  The ground crews inside the landing bay directed them where to land
their Vipers and in a short time the pilots were raising their cockpit
domes and stepping out into the mob of warriors who surrounded them.
     Apollo alighted on the deck, shaking his head with disbelief.
     "It's like some kinda miracle, seeing all you guys," he said.
     Spock came up to him and raised his hand, palm forward with the
fingers parted between the middle and ring finger, the traditional Vulcan
hand greeting.  Apollo stared at him with a mixture of astonishment and
bewilderment.
     "We are equally surprised to see you," said Spock.  "More than two
yahrens ago, we set off to attempt to save the planets of the Oasis of
Utopia from the Cylons. Since then, we have seen not a single living
soul."
     "Then the rest of the Fifth Fleet was....?"
     "Destroyed," said Spock. "Were it not for Cain, we would have
perished ourselves."
     Starbuck had worked his way through the press of bodies to join
them.  He and Spock both let out shouts of delight and hugged each other,
clapping each other on the back as if the physical contact would assure
each man that the other is real.
     "You have to have headed away from the colonies to be this far out,"
said Starbuck. "Why?"
     "It was Cain's idea." Spock said.  "He knew the Cylons would be
lined up from the Oasis of Utopia to the Colonies, just waiting for us. 
So he took a heading toward deep space and kept right on going.  There
was nowhere else to go.  We haven't stopped fighting since."
     "Running, you mean," said Apollo, appreciating their plight only too
well.
     "Run?  No." Spock turned to face him, his face inscrutable as
always.  "Commander Cain has what you humans call a 'thick skin.'  He's
not one to run away from danger or combat.  We're flying strike missions
around the clock."
     "Strike missions?" Starbuck stared at him. "For two yahrens, you've
been on full strike status?  With what? How are you supplied?  Where are
you getting your warriors?"
     "In a manner of speaking, Mr. Starbuck, the Cylons are responsible
for our supplies," said a new voice.  "And we recruit some of our
warriors from the planets they've devastated in this sector."
     Tiabo had been standing at the edge of the crowd, listening to the
conversation.  He, himself, was a short-statured, slight-framed,
pale-gray skinned humanoid alien whose face was framed by a mop of
shockingly red hair, a red beard and moustache, and thick, bushy red
eyebrows.  At the sound of his high-pitched voice, everyone, man and
woman, human and alien, cleared a way for him.  He approached the two
pilots from the Galactica.
     "Gentleman," he nodded a greeting. "I am Flight Officer Tiabo. I'm
sure you have a lot of questions, but at the moment, Commander Cain would
like to see you both in his quarters. If you'll follow me, please?"
     Starbuck and Apollo exchanged glances, then moved off to follow
Tiabo.  Starbuck spoke softly to Apollo as they crossed the wide expanse
of the landing bay.
     "I grew up on stories of Commander Cain," he said. "The Juggernaut,
they called him."
     Apollo nodded. Cain had already been a celebrated hero when he was
just a boy, dreaming of becoming a warrior someday.
     "It'll be like meeting a legend," he said.
     On the way to Cain's private quarters, both men kept glancing all
around them, taking in the condition of the battlestar, observing the
members of her crew.
     News of their arrival had obviously spread like wildfire throughout
the ship.  They were stared at by everyone they passed.  Many of the
crewmembers looked as though they would've like to engage them in
conversation, but the presence of Tiabo made it clear where he was taking
them.  It was clear that no one kept Commander Cain waiting.
     There was no need for the two of them to speak.  Besides, having
been rendered speechless, each man knew what the other was thinking.
     For two yahrens, the Pegasus had been waging war against the Cylons
all by herself.  Yet, in spite of that, in spite of the battle-worn
external appearance she presented, the battlestar was maintained in a
condition to stand a fleet inspection.  There was no war-weariness on the
faces of the crew as they passed.  There was a crispness to their
movements, a spit-and-polish aspect to their demeanor.  The crew of the
Pegasus, allowing for the inevitable deprivation caused by the lack of
fleet supply, appeared ready to turn out on parade.  Cain obviously ran a
tight ship and military discipline was rigidly maintained.  It became
increasingly clear to Starbuck and Apollo how the crew of the Pegasus
were able to withstand such a long and impossibly demanding struggle. 
They drew on the iron will of their commander.
     After all, Apollo thought, they were all serving under the command
of a living legend.  They had a lot to live up to.
     By the time they had reached Cain's quarters, Apollo discovered that
his palms were sweating.  He was about to meet his childhood hero.  He
felt, suddenly, very young and very green.  Tiabo buzzed to announce
their arrival.  From within, Cain bid them enter.
     The accommodations were not what they would have expected for the
commander of a battlestar.  It was true that aboard the Galactica,
Adama's quarters were far from luxurious, but Cain's quarters were
absolutely Spartan.  Except for the fact that it was larger and had a
console with multiple screens, a sitting alcove, a large and comfortable
chair that was obviously the sole privilege of rank that Cain allowed
himself, and a window to space, the cabin was no different from that of
any warrior's.  The window, unshielded for the moment, afforded a view of
the stars, and the lights inside the chamber were very dim.  Two men
stood with their backs to the Galactican pilots, silhouetted against the
panoramic window.  One was dressed in a uniform identical to theirs, that
of a Viper pilot, the other clad in flowing robes, the top of his head
concealed by a massive turban.  They turned around to face the
Galacticans, but they were still in shadow and neither Apollo nor
Starbuck could identify their features.
     "Get our visitors something to drink, Ali," he said.  "They look a
little pale."
     "At once, master," replied the man the commander called Ali.  And he
moved out of sight to carry out the order.
     His valet (?) gone, the commander indicated the sitting alcove with
a slight movement of his head.
     "Make yourselves at home, gentlemen," he said. "I believe in
discipline, but I don't stand on ceremony.  Besides, you don't look all
that steady on your feet to me."
     The two men took their seats.  Apollo licked his lips nervously.
     "It's an honor to meet you, Commander," he said. "A very great
honor."
     "Yes, I should imagine that it is," came the reply.
     Apollo had no idea what to say to that.  There was a moment of
awkward silence.
     "A slight attempt at humor, Captain," Cains aid. "You'll have to
excuse me, but I never did get used to having people stare at me and
treat me as if I were some sort of god.  I'm not.  I'm just a soldier.  A
warrior, like yourself.  As it happens, I'm a good one, but I'm still
only flesh and blood."
     It was, if anything, an understatement of incredible proportions. 
As Cain stepped forward into the light, they could see that his simple
uniform bore more decorations than either of them had ever seen,
including the Gold Cluster he wore at his throat over an ascot scarf, his
sole affectation.  The Cluster was not bestowed on anyone who was merely
a good soldier.  To wear the gold, it took heroism.
     It felt somehow unreal to Apollo, to finally meet his idol
face-to-face, a man he had considered long dead.  Cain was not a tall
man.  He was of average height, muscular, with iron-gray hair.  His
strikingly blue eyes were his most prominent feature.  Their gaze was
uncomfortably direct.  His face seemed to have been carved form granite. 
He was a handsome man, no longer young, but still ramrod straight and
every inch a leader.
     "I had thought that I would never see another human face," said
Cain.  "Yet, here you are.  Where in Kobol did you come from?"
     "From the battlestar Galactica, sir," said Apollo.  He felt
uncomfortable sitting in Cain's presence.  "Under the command of...."
     "Adama?"
     Cain moved forward suddenly, staring intently at Apollo.
     "Yes, sir. My father."
     "Yes....Yes, I can see the resemblance now.  So you're the son of
Adama.  How is the old modocker?"
     "Well," said Apollo, "considering the load he's carried since the
destruction of our nation."
     Cain nodded. "Yes, I can well imagine.  And the rest of the fleet?"
     "Only the Galactica survived, sir.  Along with sone hundred and
twenty-odd ships of various classifications carrying what's left of our
people."
     "My God!" said Cain.  "And I thought we had it bad.  Only one
hundred and twenty ships?  That's all that's left from all the Colonies?"
     Apollo nodded.
     Cain seemed lost in thought for several moments.
     "There was a certain young lady..." he said, almost to himself.
     He moved toward his desk, upon which stood a small holo-projector. 
There was an intense quality to his voice as he spoke, as if he wanted to
know the truth, but was at the same time afraid to know.
     "Out of all those people from the Colonies," he said softly, "I
suppose it's quite unlikely that she would be among the few survivors. 
Still...."
     His hand reached out toward the projector, then hovered above it
uncertainly.
     "What was her name?" Starbuck asked gently.
     "Her name was Cassiopeia," Cain said.
     As he spoke, he turned on the projector and a column of diffused
light appeared in the center of the chamber.  Cain punched in the
projection and the holographic image of Cassiopeia appeared.  Apollo
heard the sharp intake of Starbuck's breath.  The image of Cassiopeia
cocked her head and smiled.
     "I'll never forget you, you old wardaggit," she said. "Hurry back. 
Hurry back to me."
     The image vanished.
     The two men sat stunned into silence.  There was no mistaking the
look on Cassiopea's face, no mistaking the inflection in her voice. Yet,
she had never mentioned knowing Cain to them.  And then again, neither of
them had ever asked.
     Starbuck though back to the first time they had met.  It had been
shortly after Caprica had been destroyed.  Even as the Cylons sued for
peace, their base ships had moved into position to attack the Colonies. 
By the time their treachery had been discovered, it had been too late.
     Among the handful of survivors Adama had gathered together, there
had been a woman who had been a socialator, a highly skilled courtesean
and paid companion.  There was as much separating a Viper from a common
prostitute as there was separating a Viper from a shuttlecraft, a
seasoned warrior from a green cadet.  It was an old and honored
profession, but there were still those who did not appreciate the
difference between women of Cassiopea's profession and whores.  Starbuck
had told himself at the time that he had removed Cassiopea from their
presence because she had a broken arm and required medical attention, and
because the people she had fallen in with had not desired her company and
had been abusing her.  But there had been much more to it than that. 
Much more.
     He had no personal claim on Cassiopea, but the thought of
competition in the form of Commander Cain disturbed him greatly.  What
was it Apollo had called him---a living legend?  How do you compete with
that?
     "I can see she's had the same effect on your gentlemen that she's
always had on me," said Cain, misinterpreting their silence. 
"Apparently, you've never seen her before."
     He looked away from them, back at the projector.  It seemed to the
two pilots that Cain felt embarrassed at having revealed his feelings to
them.  Before either of them had a chance to speak.  Cain quickly changed
the subject.
     "Speaking of lovely ladies," he said, "have you met my daughter?"
     Cain punched in another projection and a holographic image of a
young, long-legged brunette with flashing dark eyes appeared.  She was as
lovely as Cassiopea in her own way.  She had a dark, smoldering beauty,
an aggressive bearing.
     "Happy birthday, Father," she said. "I love you. I'm the luckiest
daughter in the cosmos."
     If there was more to the message, they didn't hear it because Cain
had shut off the projector at that point.
     "If I'd met that young lady," said Apollo, "I would most certainly
have remembered."
     "Her voice sounds a bit familiar, though," said Starbuck.  
     Cain chuckled.
     "It should.  She's the pilot who almost flew you right out of your
britches, Captain Apollo.  Like father, like daughter, wouldn't you say? 
She's the best damn Viper pilot on the Pegasus."
     "You'll hear no argument from me," said Apollo, recalling all too
well the sinking feeling he had experienced when he had realized that
nothing he could do would shake the fighter that pursued him.  Had she
been a Cylon, he wold've been blown to cosmic dust.
     Cain smiled again and turned back toward the window, as if seeking
something out there.
     "Adama," he said softly. "Who would've guessed it? The Galactica is
sure to be a sight for these sore eyes.  The two of us together once
again, on the offensive!  Full strike against the Cylons!"
     He turned back to face Starbuck and Apollo.
     "Gentlemen," he said, "I believe our troubles are over.  The Cylon
Empire is about to fall!"

*****

From The Adama Journals:

     I am bone weary.  Had my hair not turned prematurely white many
yahrens ago, it would most certainly have taken that shade by now, a
result of the rigors of command.  And it is more than just the pressure
of command that makes me feel my age as I have never felt before. 
Although I am not a young man anymore, I am able to draw upon reserves of
energy that not even the youngest warriors under my command can equal.  I
have to.  The burden of command I carry as chief officer of a battlestar
is nothing comparted to the weight of responsibility I bear.  The task of
shepherding a rag-tag fleet of ships that had never been designed for
duty in deep space on a journey of incalculable length is severe enough
without having to worry about the constant pursuit of the Cylon Empire.
     They are relentless.  Their leaders have vowed to exterminate the
human race, and the Cylon centurions are tireless in their efforts to
carry out the commands of their superiors.  Indeed, they cannot tire. 
They are like cruise missiles programmed to destroy and they will carry
out their programming or die fighting.  It is all they know.  Such a
singleminded purpose makes them the most formidable foes that humanity
ever had to face.
     Perhaps, if they were anything but Cylons, I might feel an
admiration for their ceaseless efforts; I might feel the respect of a
soldier for a worthy enemy.  But I can summon up no feelings of respect
for a machine society where the concept of free will is completely alien. 
Alien.  It is an apt term to describe the Cylons.  They are the most
alien creatures I have ever come across.  Humans cannot even begin to
understand them.  What little we know of the Cylon race is frightening
enough.  What we do not know is terrifying in its implications.
     The structure of their society seems to have much in common with
that of insects.  The lowliest level of Cylon society; at least that
which we humans have come across, are their centurions.  A Cylon
centurion is little more than a machine.  Indeed, they even resemble
droids in their armor, and no one is really sure where the armor ends and
the living being begins.  Cylons are like cybernetic organisms. Living
beings made part machine by the armor they wear.  Each and every Cylon,
by virtue of its sophisticated armor, is part of a vast communications
network.  They are like pawns, moved about on some massive chessboard by
their leaders.  Yet the very size of their organization is a handicap to
them.  With so much incoming data, their leaders can react only to the
extent that they can sort the input and assign priorities.  Even though
the Cylon leaders are said to have several brains to assist them in this
task, it is fortunate for me that they are not true computers.  They can,
and do, make mistakes.
     Cylons are slow to take action on their own.  Their dependence on
their leaders gives humans an advantage.  Cylons have nothing resembling
human initiative.  In battle, they are ruthlessly methodical, but human
pilots are capable of improvising, of using their intuition.  In a
one-on-one encounter, a Cylon fighter is no match for a Viper, but Cylons
do not fight one-on-one.  In battle, their Centurions are like a series
circuit, each one functioning with all the others like a unit.  It is
this which makes their pinwheel attacks so devastating.  It takes pilots
like Starbuck and Apollo yahrens to learn each other's reactions and
response times well enough to enable them to work together like a single
unit.  Cylons do this automatically.
     I can almost understand why they consider us such a threat.  Their
idea of perfection stems from a society in which individuality is
sacrificed to the ideal of the common good.  There have been, in ages
past, human philosophers who had expressed similar ideals, but today, the
Cylons have taken such priniciples to their furthest extreme.  In Cylon
society, the individual does not exist.  Each separate organism is but a
cog in the massive Cylon machine.  As such, they have certainly achieved
order, but at a price no human will ever be willing to pay.  And it is
for that reason, I feel sure, that the Cylon leaders ordered all humans
to be exterminated.  It is not enough for them to destroy the colony
worlds.  Humanity must be wiped out completely, totally.  Not one is to
survive.
     I often wonder why, if the Cylons have achieved perfection, as they
claim, they fear humans so.  I thought I knew the answer, but I can take
no comfort in it.
     My task has come down to a single dictum.  I cannot allow myself to
lose hope.  I must be strong, so that the others will have confidence and
will not lose hope.  Yet, in our present predicament, it is very hard to
remain optimistic.  We are faced with seemingly insurmountable odds. 
Added to that, the latest status reports are far from encouraging....

*****

Chapter Three: Dead Stop

     "We're down to the last of it, Skipper," said Flight Sergeant Jolly. 
"I've checked every ship in the fleet.  Everyone's down to life support
now.  Unless we come to a dead stop...."
     Adama wanted to close his eyes and just not deal with it anymore. 
It took all his effort to remain composed as he stood before his monitor
screens on the Galactica's command bridge.  Once again they were faced
with disaster, but Adama could not allow his fears to show.  He was the
commander.  His people would be looking to him to find a solution.  The
only thing Adama could look to was his faith.
     "Thank you, Sergeant Jolly," he said, shutting off the monitor. 
There was nothing more to say.
     Colonel Tigh came up beside him.  Adama turned to him, thankful for
his presence.  There was only so much frustration that he could keep
bottled up inside.
     "Well, that's just fine," he said. "To have come all this way to
simply run out of fuel...."
     "That's not the worst of it," said Tigh, wishing that he cold have
brought his superior officer some encouraging news, but the news he did
have was all bad.
     "Oh?" said Adama.  "You mean leaving ships behind, cannibalizing
them to what extent we could and doubling people to what miserable
quarters we have isn't the worst of it?  What cold possibly be worse?"
     "It's the unusual communication traffic we're picking up, sir," said
Tigh.
     Adama frowned.  "But that means we could be close to a
civilization."
     "Yes, sir. But the transmissions are Cylon."
     "Good Lord," said Adama. "Just what we need. We're down to our last
supplies of fuel and we're picking up transmissions from a base star."
     "No, sir, not a base star," Tigh replied. "Much of what we're
hearing is civilian."
     "Civilian? But we're a full star system away from Cylon!"
     "I know that, Commander.  I can't explain it, but there's no arguing
with what we're picking up." Tigh took a deep breath.  "Somewhere out
there, not too far away, is a city.  A Cylon city."
     Omega approached just as Tigh was completing his statement.
     "That could explain why our scouting patrol is so long overdue,"
Omega said.
     "Who was flying the mission?" asked Adama, fearing the worst.
     "Starbuck and Apollo, sir," said Tigh.
     Adama turned away from them, not wishing them to see the expression
on his face.
     "How long before the patrol would have spent their fuel?" he said.
     "If they've been flying continuously since launch, said Tigh,
"they'd be out of fuel by now."
     Adama sagged against the console.  He clenched his fist and raised
it slightly, then let his hand fall against his side.
     "Then it's over for them," he said softly.
     Tigh and Omega exchanged glances.  They could understand what Adama
was feeling at that moment.  They had both lost family in the war with
the Cylons.
     "Sir," said Tigh, "could we launch a shuttle probe?"
     Adama straightened and turned to face them.  He realized that there
was nothing he could do for Starbuck and Apollo.  He had the fleet to
think of now.
     "We have no fuel to spare to be searching for two warriors.  We have
to conserve every bit of fuel we have to maintain life support systems in
the fleet.  List the scouting patrol as missing in action."
     Flight Officer Rigel looked up from the scanner screen.  
     "Sir? I'm picking up something...weird."
     "What is it?" said Tigh, moving to the scanner screen.
     "I don't know.  It seems to be some sort of echo effect, perhaps the
Galactica's image bouncing off some distant ion cloud."
     Tight shook his head.
     "I'll handle it, Commander," he said. "She's new on scan.  I'll take
a look at whatever it is she's picking up.  Feed it to the bridge
monitors, Rigel."
     An image of the scanner readout appeared on the large bridge monitor
screens.  Adama and Tigh both stared at it.  Rigel had been right.  The
image did, indeed, resemble a battlestar.  Tigh leaned forward and
contacted the maintenance crew over the ship's intercom.
     "Have this scanner turret checked immediately," he said. "We
obviously have some sort of malfunction, Commander.  Control.....shift to
high definition...."
     After a momentary hesitation, the image on the monitor screens
seemed to jump, growing larger and more clear.  There was no doubt about
it.  It was a battlestar.  But that was clearly impossible.
     "If that's an echo," said Adama, it's the cleanest transmission I've
ever seen in my life."
     Tigh shook his head.  "We must be picking up somje old transmission,
Commander. Something that's been bouncing around for yahrens, it's the
only explanation that makes sense.  Nevertheless...."
     Omega, face pale, looked up from the console.
     "Sir, signal coming in on Fleet Comline Alpha!"
     "Now that simply cannot be.  The Alpha line is an automatic scramble
communicator between battlestars, and we're the last surviving
battlestar.  Check your systems, there must be....."
     At that moment, the image on the monitor screens was replaced by the
face of Commander Cain.
     "Well, Adama, you old wardaggit, I might've known I'd find you and
your fleet sitting dead on its astrum."
     Adama stared at the screen, eyes wide with shock.  Slowly, he sank
into his command chair.  
     "Cain!  By all that's holy...."
     Cain chuckled. "There's nothing holy a bout me, old friend.  What's
the matter?  You look as though you've seen a ghost.  I can't be looking
that bad, can I?"
     The crew of the bridge all gathered around Adama, staring at the
monitor screens.  There wasn't one of them who hadn't heard of Commander
Cain.  Yet, according to all reports, his ship had perished over two
yahrens ago.
     The screens showed Cain sitting casually in his command chair on the
bridge of the Pegasus, his leg draped over the arm of his chair.  With
one hand, he was holding a swagger stick and absently tapping it against
his boot.
     "Adama!  Wake up, man.  Are you just going to sit there and let me
plow through your whole fleet or do I get some sort of rendezvous
instructions?"
     Adama finally overcame the shock of seeing a man he had thought long
dead.
     "Yes, yes, of course.  Colonel Tigh, make ready to board Commander
Cain and position the Pegasus to defend our flank.  It's a miracle, Cain. 
A blessed miracle!"
     "Miracles are my business," Cain replied dryly.  "But have it your
way.  I'll be aboard in a few centons."
     "And I'll have some vintage Ambrosa waiting for you," Adama said.
     Cain grinned. "Well, I should hope so."
     His image vanished from the screens.
     Tigh shook his head. "My God!  He's alive!  I thought he'd perished
with the Fifth Fleet more than two yahrens ago."
     "The fabric of miracles is the impossible, Colonel," said Adama. 
"Once again, we're delivered!"
     The men and women on the bridge broke into cheers and wild applause.

*****

     The doors of the shuttle opened and Cain stepped out onto the
landing deck of the Galactica, accompanied by two warriors in full dress. 
The throng that packed the landing bay cheered his arrival.  They were
like a family greeting a long lost prodigal son.  Adama rushed up to Cain
and embraced him.
     "God bless you, old friend," he said. "You don't know how I feel at
this moment. I'm at a loss for words."
     "Me too," said Cain.  He clapped Adama on the shoulder. "It's good
to see you once again, old friend. And I have a present for you to mark
the occasion." He turned to one of his aides.  "Where are those space
loiterers we picked up?  Front and center!"
     Adama could not believe his eyes when he saw his son and Starbuck
emerging from the shuttle.  He fought back tears as he embraced Apollo.
     "Son!  I'd thought I'd seen the last of you!"
     "And you would've seen the last of him," said Cain, "If my daughter
hadn't cut them off when she did.  They were headed right for Vulcan."
     "Vulcan? By all that's holy!  I had no idea we were so close to the
homeworld of our ancient allies and mentors. Maybe they can help us."
     "They would if they still existed,' said Cain.  "I'm afraid the
Cylons wiped them out.  Vulcan is now their newest colony.  They've
turned it into the ultimate in machine efficiency."
     "What!" Adama couldn't believe what he'd been told.  "But----they
were logicians, stoic pacifists, practitioners of democracy when the 1st
Lord of Kobol was seated upon his throne.  I can't believe history would
be so cruel as to confer such a destiny upon them!"
     "Well, you'd better believe it, Adama." Cain shook his head,
sorrowfully. 
     There was a stunned silence on the landing deck as the import of his
words sank in.  The Cylons had put yet another intelligent species to the
sword.
     "I guess you're a little out of touch with the front lines," said
Cain.  "Well----Come on, old friend, where's that Ambrosa you promised
me?"

*****

     In Commander Adama's private quarters, a subdued Commander Cain sat
opposite his frined, his fingers toying with the stem of his drinking
glass.
     "When the Fifth Fleet was destroyed," said Cain, "I took every
survivor I could aboard the Pegasus and headed straight for Vulcan, their
most recent supply base.  There was nowhere else to go.  Any attempt to
return to the Colonies would have resulted in the destruction of any
ship.  It was what the Cylons expected me to try.  So I set course for
Vulcan, only when we arrived, it was to discover that the Vulcans, along
with several other races in the region, had been wiped out by the Cylons. 
Fortunately, it's only a recently established colony of theirs and
nowhere near being at full strength.  We've managed to survive by living
off them ever since, like bandits.  There was nothing else to do.  We
needed to hit them for supplies, replenish our manpower from the peoples
they'd subjugated, and I just couldn't risk going back."
     "It's frightening," said Adama. "If they've conquered Vulcan, then
that means they wield power halfway across the universe."
     Cain nodded. "I won't lie to you, Adama.  They've got us surrounded. 
The only thing I've been able to do is keep hitting their base as often
as I can so they can't build up enough to launch a full strike against
me.  I've been very lucky.  What I've never understood is why they
haven't sent a fleet of base ships to finish us off.  Now it's quite
clear why they didn't."
     "You mean we're the reason."
     "It all makes sense now," Cain said. "I could never understand it
before, but now I see that this fugitive fleet of yours must have
received first priority.  They obviously want you very badly.  I was
never able to break their code.  I had no idea there were any other
survivors."
     "Nor did I," Adama said.  "Your arrival has been a tremendous lift
for all our people."
     "And a deathblow to the Cylons," Cain said grimly. "We can take them
now, Adama!  This is the turning point!"
     Adama shook his head.
     "My old friend....All we can hope to take from the Cylons is much
needed fuel.  A military victory is out of the question."
     Cain frowned. "What are you talking about?  I've had them on their
knees in this sector with just one battlestar!  With two, I can finish
them!  At least on Vulcan."
     "And if you do what then?"
     "Then we'll have all the fuel we need,' said Cain, setting his glass
down so hard that it broke.  "And a base from which to strike!"
     Adama sighed. Cain hadn't changed.  As always, he was too eager, too
ready to throw all cautions to the celestial winds.
     "Cain, we cannot secure that planet.  Those base ships that haven't
bothered you are after me en masse.  Our only hope is to raid them for
fuel and then move on."
     Cain stared at Adama for a long time.  "You mean, run?" he said at
last.
     "I mean escape."
     "But why, dammit?  We can outfly them.  We can outfight them.  We
can...."
     "In case you haven't noticed,' Adama interrupted him. "I'm
protecting a hundred and twenty ships that are only capable of crawling
along at speeds that aren't good for anything but target practice.  Maybe
you can outfly them, Cain, but I can't."
     "There's got to be another way," said Cain.
     "There isn't.  But your knowledge of the Cylon supply lines will be
invaluable. If we could intercept several of their tankers....."
     "Why bother with tankers?" said Cain. "Why not hit the fuel base on
Vulcan?"
     "I'm low on fuel," Adama said. "We're barely able to sustain life
support systems as it is. I can't leave these ships without protection
while I take on an entire planet with nothing but my fuel reserves."
     "So don't," Cain said. "Just give me a couple of your best squadrons
and I'll take that fuel depot myself."
     "I'll be happy to settle for enough fuel to get us out of here,"
Adama said. "You prepare the battle plan tohit their tankers, I'll
approve it.  Meanwhile, enjoy a few centons of  hospitality aboard the
Galactica.  Kobol knows, you deserve it."
     Cain nodded, although he clearly wasn't pleased.
     "Very well, Adama.  If that's the way you want it."
     "That's the way it has to be," Adama said. "I have no choice."

*****

Chapter Four: Cassiopea And Cain

     Apollo and Starbuck walked rapidly down a corridor in the
Galactica's living quarters, heading for Cassiopea's cabin.  
     "What are you going to do?" Apollo asked his friend.
     "I'm going to find some way to let him down easy," said Starbuck. 
"You don't just dump on a national hero."
     "You're assuming Cassiopea isn't going to be as excited as everyone
else in the fleet that he's back.  Perhaps she knows already---it's all
over the ship."
     They stopped at her door.
     "Apollo," Starbuck said.
     "Oh, yes, that's right," said Apollo, looking at his friend with a
perfectly straight face. "I forgot.  Once they've experienced that famous
Starbuck charm...."
     "Come on, stow it, will you?  That wasn't what I mean and you know
it.  But let's face it, he is an older man.  And whatever it was they had
between them was a long time ago."
     Starbuck buzzed to announce his arrival.
     "You're on your own," said Apollo.  "Hope the blessings of the Lords
are with you."
     Starbuck entered.
     Cassiopea was not alone.  She was spending some time with Boxy and
his mechanized daggit.  It was hard for children aboard the Galactica. 
There were not many of them in the rag-tag fleet, and all the adults were
very well of the fact that it was crucial in their development for them
to have some time in which to be children.  So they all made time for the
little ones wherever they could.  Their chances for survival were not
great, but still, they were humanity's hope for tomorrow.
     "Starbuck!"
     She jumped up and hugged him, giving him a friendly kis.  Starbuck
had a feeling that it would have been considerably more friendly wer it
not for Boxey's presence.
     "Hiya, Starbuck!"  Boxey jumped up and ran to his side.  "Is my
father back?"
     Suddenly, Starbuck didn't feel quite as sure of himself as he did
microns ago.
     "Yeah, kid.  He's back."
     Something in his tone alerted the sensitive Boxey to the fact that
something was amiss.
     "What's the matter?" cried the boy, suddenly anxious.  "He's not
hurt, is he?"
     "Aw, no, no, nothing like that," said Starbuck.
     "C'mon, Muffey," Boxey said to his daggit droid.  "Let's go find
Dad!"
     He charged out of the room, his robot pet skittering after him as
fast as it was able.
     "Starbuck," Cassiopea said, when they were finally alone.  "What is
it?  I can tell something's bugging you.  What's wrong?"
     Starbuck forgot the carefully rehearsed speech he'd been ready to
make.  What he said came out disjointed and awkward.
     "I have some news for you," he said. "It's about an old friend of
yours.  Someone you may have been involved with.  Or maybe someone you
just liked, I don't know, but at any rate, he's been found.  Alive."
     "Starbuck, what're you talking about?" she said. "Who's been found
alive?"
     "Look, I know it's all over between you, but we have to find some
way to let him down easy.  If you want to do it yourself, okay by me. 
But I'll be glad to handle it for you if you think it's going to be too
awkward...."
     "Get to the bottom line, Starbuck.  Who are we talking about?"
     "Um.....um....ah......Commander Cain."
     Starbuck had never counted on her reaction.  It seemed as if all the
breath had been knocked out of her and, for the briefest moment, her eyes
seemed to glaze.  Then she bolted past him and ran out into the hall,
moving quickly down the corridor.  Starbuck could only stare after her
stupidly.

*****

     Apollo was on the bridge, having a reunion with his son when
Starbuck entered.
     "Well? How'd she take the news?" Apollo said.
     "Worse than I thought.  She wanted to be alone."
     Apollo fixed Starbuck with a steady gaze.  He knew his friend too
well not to be able to tell when Starbuck wasn't being wholly honest with
him.
     "Hey," he said, "it's me, Apollo, remember?  I'm your friend. 
Friends are supposed to be able to talk to each other."
     Starbuck nodded. "Yeah, well....I guess I just don't like to admit
to anyone that I'm capable of forming attachments."
     "Oh, man!  You don't even like to admit it to yourself," Apollo
said. "I've never understood that about you."
     Starbuck sat down in one of the chairs behind the console.
     "You were always part of a big family," he said. "I never had that. 
I just grew up keeping the number of people around me as large as I
could."
     "So that you couldn't get hurt by any particular one," said Apollo.
"Starbuck, there's nothing wrong with feeling vulnerable."
     "It's not that I care if Cassiopea feels something for Cain," he
said, trying to shrug it off, "it's just that I can't see it. 
He's...he's....."
     "Too old?  Better read up on your Book of the Word," said Apollo. 
"Some of the Lords of Kobol were sealed to some very young wives."
     "Wives? Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?  She
couldn't...she wouldn't marry him?  Anyway, who cares?  Certainly not
me."
     Starbuck got up and left the brige, walking quickly.
     "Poor Starbuck," said Boxey, who had heard every word and understood
a lot for one so young.  "Oh, well.  He still has Athena, and.  And
Idialia.  And Lyla.  And Krit and..."
     "That'll be enough of that," Apollo said. "Who told you to listen,
anyway?"

*****

     Cain was relaxing in his guest quarters aboard the Galactica, a
cabin that had been vacated temporarily for him.  What with the way
things had been, there was no surplus of accommodations aboard the
battlestar.  He was finishing off the bottle of Ambrosa Adama had given
him as a gift when the buzzer announced a caller.
     "Enter."
     He got up and adjusted his scarf.  Then froze.  Cassiopea stood in
the doorway.
     "Cassi...." he said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
     There were tears in her eyes.  Hesitantly, they moved toward each
other, then they were in each other's arms, her head buried against her
chest.  Cain hugged her close, brushing his mouth against her hair.
     "I thought you were dead," he said. "I'd given up hope..."
     "Oh, I've missed you," Cassiopea said.  "I had to force myself to
stop thinking about you.  I..."
     Abruptly, she pulled away.
     "I understand," Cain said quietly. "I couldn't have expected you to
wait.  It wouldn't have been fair.  Especially with all those young
warriors around.  They're all madly in love with you, I'm sure."
     "No, only one," she said. "And he doesn't love easily."
     "Then don't waste your time on him."
     She shook her head. "He's not a waste of time.  He's just afraid of
caring too much. Sometimes he reminds me of you.  He had a pretty rough
childhood. "
     "No worse than yours, I'm sure," said Cain.
     She sighed. "We all handle loneliness in our own ways. My way was to
reach out to everyone.  Starbuck's was to shut everybody out."
     "Starbuck." Cain thought back to the time aboard the Pegasus, when
he had shown them a holographic image of Cassiopea.  He had thought they
didn't know here.  But now he could see why they hadn't said anything. 
He wondered what Starbuck must've felt at the time.
     "He's a great warrior," Cassiopea said. "One of the finest pilots
we've got, if not the best pilot we've got."
     "Oh, he is, is he?" Cain smiled. It was clear she was no longer his. 
But then, he would've been a fool to have expected anything else.  He was
just overjoyed to see that she was alive and well.
     "I wasn't comparing the two of you," she said defensively.  "You're
going to have to give me some time to think.  It's all just too much
right now."
     "We may not have much time," said Cain.
     "I know.  What about Sheba? Is she....?"
     "She's grown up to be a beautiful young woman," Cain said. "And the
finest fighter pilot in the fleet."
     "I have a feeling she won't be very happy to hear that I've returned
from the dead," Cassiopea said.
     "No, perhaps not.  Children don't understand the needs a man can
have at different times of his life.  You came into mine just after her
mother died.  It may have been difficult for her, but if it weren't for
you...."
     "You don't have to say it," Cassiopeia said. "But did you ever stop
to think that maybe Sheba wanted to fill that role?"
     "She's my daughter."
     Cassiopeia smiled. "I could be your daughter as well."
     "You could be, but you're not."
     "It's not as cut and dried as you make it out to be," said
Cassiopea.  "If all you were looking for is physical fulfillment,
companionship to keep you from feeling lonely, any socialator would've
done as well."
     "You know there was more to it than that, Cassy."
     "Yes, I know.  And so did Sheba.  Because of that, I was a threat to
her."
     "She's a grown woman now, Cassy.  I'm sure she understands."
     "I wish I could be so sure.  We're almost the same age.  Because I
was able to give you something Sheba never could, besides physical love,
she resented me.  Is there any reason for her to feel differently now?"
     Cain looked into her eyes. "I don't know, Cassy.  I guess a lot of
that depends on you."

*****

     The Officers' Club aboard the Galactica was crowded as the pilots
from both ships gathered together to celebrate their reunion.  The center
of attraction was a tall, vibrantly beautiful young woman who piloted one
of the Vipers from the Pegasus.
     "Our basic strategy," said Sheba, "has been to keep attacking the
Cylon base on Vulcan.  Hitting them as often as we can, as hard as we
can, giving them as little opportunity to regroup as possible.  Every
time they manage to rebuild, we go in and turn their ground base to scrap
metal.  It's the only way we've been able to survive, to keep them
constantly on the defensive."
     "I would like to hear from the pilots of the Galactica," said Spock. 
"You must surely be occupying the Cylons time yourselves."
     Apollo moved up to their table and took a chair.
     "Sure," he said. "Just last week, we shot down a Cylon patrol ship. 
Mind if I join you?"
     Sheba looked him over.
     "My name is Apollo. Strike Captain Apollo. I believe you spent a lot
of time on my tail.  You are Sheba, aren't you?"
     She smiled. "Yes to both questions."
     "Surely you weren't serious about shooting down just one Cylon
patrol ship in a whole week," said Spock.
     "Very serious," replied Apollo. "When you're responsible for the
lives of hundreds of civilians crammed aboard slow-moving hulks, you have
to learn to keep a low profile."
     "It sounds like we're going to be incompatible," said Sheba dryly.
     "We all have to learn to adjust," Apollo said patiently.  "Even the
legendary Commander Cain may have to alter his combat techniques."
     Sheba snorted. "And who's going to tell him that?"
     "Being something of a student of your father's battle tactics," said
Apollo, "I think he'll arrive at that decision on his own.  If not...."
     Tiabo entered the Officers' Club at that moment and called the
pilots to attention.  They all jumped to their feet as Cain entered with
his turbaned valet, Ali.  He was accompanied by Cassiopea.
     "No, no," protested Cain.  "Please, resume your seats.  We're not on
duty now.  This is supposed to be a party."
     He moved up to the table occupied by Sheba, Apollo, Boomer and
Spock.
     "It's good, what you're doing," he said. "We should all get
acquainted.  After all, we'll be fighting side by side from now on.  The
next round's on me."
     The pilots from both ships applauded Cain, all save his daughter. 
She had heard that Cassiopea w as aboard, but this was their first
meeting since that time, yahrens ago, when the blonde socialator had
usurped her mother's place.
     "If you'll excuse me," Sheba said, rising to her feet.  "I think
I've had enough combat for one day."
     All eyes were on her as she left.  There was a moment of awkward
silence.  Not everyone knew what had just transpired, but it didn't take
much for them to see that there was clearly friction between the two
women for some reason.
     "Pardon me," Apollo said, getting up and going after Sheba.
     "Nothing changes," Cassiopea said morosely.
     "Everything changes," said Cain. "Come, let's have a drink for old
times."
     "Things may change, but not people," Cassiopea said softly.
     In the corridor, Apollo hurried to catch up to Sheba.
     "Sheba, can we talk?"
     "Not right now," she said.  "I don't think I'm up to it."
     "We're all going to have to work together if we're going to
survive," he said.
     "Working with you wouldn't be the problem," she replied tersely.
     "I don't think you understand," Apollo said. "We can't afford to
have individual quarrels or rivalries.  We may have our differences, but
we have a common enemy.  And when it comes right down to, there's not a
person aboard the Galactica I wouldn't lay down my life for."
     "Well, I'm sure that's very noble of you," Sheba said, a heavy touch
of sarcasm in her voice.  "However, I'm not so sure that everyone shares
the purity of your motives.  You can't know everyone as well as you seem
to think you do."
     "I know the lady you're upset about."
     "Do you?"
     "I know who she is now," said Apollo earnestly.  "Who or what she
may have been before doesn't count for anything. We've all been through a
cleansing fire.  It's tripped every one of us clean down to the bone. 
What's past is past. We can afford to think of nothing but survival now. 
Only the strong survive."
     "Not necessarily.  Luck has a great deal to do with it.  I know a
little something about surviving, Captain."
     "I know you think you do.  But the fact is that it's easier in a
cockpit with thrusters and lasers to defend you than it is for people in
our fleet who have no choice but to sit and wait.  And worry. I think you
misunderstood me.  It wasn't a warrior's strength that I was speaking of.
Cassiopea is no warrior, but she's one of the people who work around the
clock piecing together the wounded who aren't lucky enough to get out of
the way.  That doesn't take a warrior's skill, but it takes a great deal
of courage.
     "Cassiopea works in your life station?" Sheba said, obviously
surprised
     Apollo smiled.  "There's not much call for a woman of her old
profession aboard the Galactica.  Everyone' s had to learn to contribute
in some way.  We're in this together, every one of us.  Cassiiopea has
worked hard, harder than most, and she's become one of our best medics."
     "All right, Apollo.  You may consider me briefed."
     "Briefed---but not convinced?"
     "I'll be honest with you, Apollo, as one pilot to another.  I don't
convince easily.  Human weakness is a given.  It may lower its profile in
a crisis, but it's still there."
     She started to move off.
     "What about you, Sheba?" he called after her.  "Any weaknesses?"
     She turned and regarded him with a steady gaze.
     "None that will ever come between us, Captain."

*****

     Commanders Cain and Adama stood before the multidimensional war map
in the ready room, going over their battle plan with the squadron leaders
looking on.  Cain was giving them the final briefing.
     "The Cylons run fuel ships along this route," he said, indicating
the map.  "They bring their tankers through every fifteen days.  Their
convoy will have already left Vulcan, but if we go full power all the
way, we can still catch them before they're out of strike range."
     "Full power all the way?" said Adama.  He shook his head. "It's
risky, Cain.  You'll barely have enough fuel to get you there and back
again."
     "We won't need anymore than that," Cain replied with certainty.
     "You'll still be playing it awfully close," Adama said. "Surely they
must fly fighter escort on their convoys.  A prolonged battle would use
up all of your reserves."
     "Except they'll never be expecting us to hit them," Cain said. "And
besides, I don't fight prolonged battles with the Cylons.  They're not
that good.  And we are!"
     Adama frowned.  Cain's bombastic rhetoric was having its desired
effect upon the squadron leaders, it was psyching them up, but there was
no denying they fact that his battle plan called for an extended strike
that left absolutely zero margin for error.  They couldn't afford to lose
any more ships.  To say nothing of losing any more lives.  Enough had
died already.  And there would be more before they reached their
destination.  It was inevitable.  He was still the same old Cain.  The
man who lived for battle.  That had never been Adama's way.
     "Very well," Adama said, capitulating against his better judgment. 
They needed that fuel desperately and, risky though the plan was, it was
nowhere near as dangerous as attacking the Cylon ground base would be. 
He would have to choose between the lesser of two evils.  "We'll send a
single squadron from each battlestar."
     "No offense," said Cain, his glance taking in the squadron leaders
from the Galactica, "but I'd prefer to use just my own wings on this
mission."
     "Commander, for purposes of morale, I think it would be best to
begin integrating these squadrons so that they could start developing a
sense of teamwork."
     Cain shrugged. "Whatever you say. I'm sure my pilots will be more
than happy to pass on their experience.  Let's get to it."
     Cain turned and left the ready room, his squadron leaders snapping
to and following in his wake.  Apollo stayed behind after the men from
the Galactica had left, no doubt smarting a bit from Cain's remarks.
     "Is there anything he doesn't do better than everyone else?" said
Apollo.
     Adama nodded. "I'd have to include giving up in that category."
     "He's not quite what I expected," said Apollo. "I've never seen
anyone treated so like a....like a god."
     "That may be," his father said, "but you have to remember that he's
kept his people alive in the heart of Cylon territory for over two
yahrens.  They'd do anything for him, and rightfully so."
     "I hope you realize," said Apollo, "that this...adulation, this
absolute awe everyone feels for him in now way detracts from how the men
feel about you."
     Adama placed his hands on Apollo's shoulders.
     "This isn't a popularity contest, son.  It's a life and death
struggle for survival.  We need men like Cain.  Our people need heroes. 
They need men and women whom they can look up to.  People  who can give
them the courage to go on.
     "They feel that way about you."
     "And I hope I never disappoint them.  Now get going.  I don't want
your squadron getting to those tangers after Cain's already done the
job." He smiled. "There's a matter of pride involved here, understand?"
     "Yes, sir."

*****

     There was a flurry of activity at the launch tubes of both
battlestars as the strike wings prepared for launch.  The launch crews of
the  Viper fighters hurriedly ran their systems checks and flight-suited
pilots mounted the steps leading to the cockpits of their ships.  Sitting
in their cockpits, Boomer and Jolly started their engines, their faces
calm and composed as they watched the indicator lights on their consoles. 
Through their helmet comcircuits, they heard the voices of their launch
crews as they ran through the final checkpoints preparatory to flight. 
Apollo rested his hands lightly on the controls of his sleek fighter
craft.  He was in his element.  His mind was in a state of meditative
calm as he waited for the final countdown.
     Aboard the Pegasus,  a flight-suited Commander Cain strode
confidently across the landing bay, heading for a Viper fighter.  Sheba
intercepted him     "Father!  What are you doing?" I just found out
you're going on this mission?"
     "It's just a routine strike, Sheba.  Nothing to it."
     "Then why go?" she said, her faces showing her concern.  "We can't
afford to risk losing you."
     "I have to go, Sheba."
     "But why?"
     "Are you questioning my judgment, warrior?"
     "No, sir, but..."
     Cain's expression softened for a moment. "I'll explain later, Sheba. 
Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
     He turned and climbed into the cockpit of his Viper.  Sheba wanted
to protest, but he made it clear that there would be no questioning his
decision.  Besides, there was no time.  She ran to her own Viper and
vaulted into the cockpit.  Within moments, she was hearing the voice of
the launch officer through her helmet comcircuit
     "Core systems transferring control to Silver Spar Squadron.  Launch
when ready."
     Both Cain and Sheba fired their engines at the same time and their
Viper fighters hurtled down the launch tubes and out into space.

*****

From The Adma Journals:

     I wonder, as Apollo goes off to do battle, what I have told him.  A
matter of pride, I think.  It is surely what Apollo wants to hear.  He
feels the way any son might feel who sees his father overshadowed by
another man.  It is an understandable reaction, especially in one as
young as Apollo.
     He's a good warrior, I think, but he has much to learn yet.  When he
gets holder...if he ever gets that chance....he'll learn that there are
times when one must swallow one's pride.  I remember back when Apollo had
been a boy, the way he worshiped Cain.  He would listen to the stories of
Cain's victories and dream about the day when he too could be a warrior
and command a battlestar.  Now, as a man, Apollo is beginning to realize
that even heroes have feet of clay.
     Cain is a willful man, a man who does not know how to compromise. 
The men and women under his command, indeed, many of the people aboard
the Galactica, feel about him the way Apollo did many yahrens ago. 
However, Apollo now realizes the dangers inherent in hero worship.  It is
one thing to have respect for your commander, yet it is another to place
him on a pedestal and pay him homage.  To do that is to deny his
humanity.  Humans make mistakes, gods don't.
     I know that there will be no rest for him until the mission is
successfully completed.  We cannot afford to make mistakes now.

*****

Chapter Five: How Do You Stop A Juggernaut?

     Athena glanced up from her screens to give the launch report to her
commander.
     "Blue Squadron launched and rendezvousing with Silver Spar Squadron
from the Pegasus, sir."
     Adama nodded at his da ughter.  He knew how much Athena would have
liked to have gone on that mission.  She was an accomplished Viper pilot,
but he needed her on the command bridge.  Besides, he already had one of
his children risking his life out there.  He had to admit to himself the
very real possibility that he could lose Apollo. He couldn't bear losing
both of them.
     "It's kind of like the old days," said Colonel Tigh, standing by his
side. "I mean, the luxury of being able to divide the fighting load
between two battlestars."
     "Yes," said Adama.  "It's a real blessing.  And so was finding Cain,
with his knowledge of Cylon operations in this sector.  Lord knows what
would have happened if we'd stumbled into their territory."
     "In a way, it's almost providential that we ran out of fuel."
     The commander nodded. "Things do have a way of occurring in ways
boggling to the mortal mind.  Cain was a godsend."
     "With all due respect," said Tigh, "I think that remains to be
seen."
     In the cockpit of his Viper, Boomer heard the voice of one of the
pilots in the Silver Spar group coming through his comcircuit.
     "Four centons to target...."
     Boomer frowned. "Captain? Did that sound like....Cain?"
     "Commander Cain to you, warrior," the reply came back at once.  "And
don't speak unless spoken to, Flight Sergeant....Boomer, isn't it?"
     "Yes sir."
     "I make it a point to know every man in my command," said Cain. 
"Three centons to target."
     Apollo was perplexed. "Commander, I'm not picking up anything on my
scanner. If we're only three centons to target...."
     "You won't find them on your scanner, Captain," Cain replied.
     "Then---how?"
     "I can feel them, Captain. I can feel them out there.  Just ahead,
you should be picking up a reading of our target convoy.  Judging by the
rate of speed of a full tanker and their departure time, we should be
coming within scanner range of our target shortly.  So this is where we
split up, before they know we're out here."
     "I thought we were going in as a single strike force," said Apollo
     "Captain, they'll have at least a dozen escort fighters to throw
against us. We'll do this my way.  Blue Squadron, head straight in,
Silver Spar, follow me...."
     As Cain's squadron separated from the main body, Boomer's voice came
through Apollo's comcircuit.  The man sounded dubious.
     "He's flying evasive tactics and we don't even have a target on our
scanners," Boomer said.
     "I somehow have the feeling that he knows what he's doing," said
Apollo.  "Anyway, we'll know in a micron.  If Cain's right, we
should...."
     At that moment, a target appeared on his scanner.
     "There she is," Apollo said. "A Cylon tanker."
     "Well, I'll be a siminoids's uncle!"
     "Make it two tankers," said Apollo, as a second image appeared on
his scanner.  However, the fact that he was reading their target meant
that their target was also reading them.  He now saw what Cain planned to
do.  He had sent Apollo's squadron straight in, into the Cylon's scanner
range, while he would skirt their scanner range with his squadron,
hitting them on their flank, while they engaged Apollo.  It was a sound
strategy, but if he were late coming in.....
     There was no sign of the fighter escort on his scanners.  That made
him worry.  And then he saw them, racing out from behind the second
tanker, coming in fast.
     "Here we go," he said. "Let's take 'em, Blue. And for Sagan's sake,
whatever you do, don't hit those tankers!"
     Blue Squadron came in hard and fast, the pilots peeling off from the
formation at the last possible second.  They were outnumbered four to
one.  As they engaged the Cylons, Apollo had no time to wonder where Cain
was.  He had his hands full.
     Almost at once, Boomer found himself with two ships on his tail.  He
fired at the ship ahead of him, missed, then used his thrusters to dart
sideways at an angle, trying to get away from the laser fire that seemed
to surround his cockpit in blinding light.  He had to time it just right,
waiting for his lasers to recycle, still it was impossible to be sure,
for the two Cylon ships had not fired at the same time.  He had only
seconds in which to make his move and it could still wind up in his
flying right into the path of one of their energy beams.  He hit his
thrusters and darted to one side, trying to get around behind the Cylons. 
His maneuver was successful, but one of their laser beams passed by so
close that he was rattled for a moment and the Cylons were able to take
advantage and recover.
     Apollo successfully evaded the ships converging upon him only to see
that Jolly was in trouble and he could not go to his rescue.  It was all
he could do to keep avoiding the laser fire that seemed to be coming from
all around him.
     "Roll, Jollyl, he's on you!"
     "I can't shake him, Apollo!" Jolly's voice came back. "I'm in
trouble!"
     Suddenly, a blast of laser fire hit the Cylon fighter behind Jolly
and the ship exploded into a silent fireball.
     "Let's go get 'em!' Cain commanded, and to Apollo's immense relief,
the Silver Spar Squadron joined the battle, taking the Cylons completely
by surprise.
     "Thanks, whoever that was," Apollo heard Jolly's voice say shakily.
     "My pleasure," Cain replied. "Apollo----one on your right wing!"
     Apollo saw the Cylon coming in fast, angling in and firing.
     "I've got him, Apollo," Sheba said, coming in almost on top of the
Cylon and blowing him away.
     Apollo took advantage of the reprieve to nail a Cylon fighter of his
own.  Cain's surprise attack had resulted in almost half the Cylon escort
flight being destroyed as they were concentrating their attention on Blue
Squadron.  Before the Cylons could rally, Apollo, Boomer and Jolly had
each scored hits of their own.
     "They're running, Apollo!" Boomer shouted.
     Apollo heard Cain's orders coming through instantly. 
     "Blue Squadron, two Cylon fighters peeling off and making a run for
it....give pursuit."
     Even as he spoke, Cain was zooming in on the nearest tanker.  A
slow-moving craft, it couldn't possibly escape the Vipers.  Cain lined
the tanker up in his sights and fired.  The Cylon tanker exploded into a
giant fireball and Cain powered his way back through the blaze before it
could dissipate, taking a dead heading on the second tanker.
     Apollo closed with the sole remaining Cylon fighter.  Its pilot
wasn't even attempting to take evasive action.  The Cylon was trying to
outrun Apollo, but he was in range and it was an effort doomed to
failure.  Apollo had him in his sights.  He thumbed the button that
controlled his laser turrets and it was all over.
     "That's all of them," he said. "Now let's go back and escort those
tankers in.  We need that fuel."
     As he turned, Apollo saw Cain's fighter zooming down upon the tanker
like a dreadnaught.  Cain fired.  There were no tankers left to escort
back to the Fleet.
     "Commander?" said Apollo.
     Cain's voice sounded crisp and neutral over the comcircuit as he
replied.
     "Yes, what is it, Captain?"
     "Were you aiming at a fighter?  I didn't see him."
     "Didn't see him, Captain?  Why, he was as clear as a Nubian Sun to
me."
     "What happened to the tankers?"
     "I don't know.  Looks like we've come up empty.  Let's regroup the
squadrons and head for home."
     Apollo kept silent.

*****

     "Fighter squadrons returning, Commander," said Colonel Tigh.
     Adama heaved a sigh of relief.  The gamble had paid off.  They were
dangerously low on fuel.
     "Only...." Said Tigh, his voice trailing off.
     "Only what, Colonel?"
     "No tankers, sir.  It appears they've been unable to locate the
convoy."
     Adama's heart sank.  "Cain seemed so certain."
     "What is certain is that we can't stay here, sir.  We're too
vulnerable.  And we can't move without fuel.  It looks like we have no
options left.  We're going to have to attack their main base."
     Everything suddenly became crystal clear.  Cain!  Adama had refused
to approve his plan to attack the Cylon ground base and now the commander
of the Pegasus had forced his hand.  Now they had no choice by to do it
Cain's way.
     "I want Commander Cain and the strike captains in my quarters as
soon as they land," Adama said.  He turned briskly and stalked off the
bridge.
     Tigh stood there tensely, watching the scanners as the strike force
made its landing approach.  He was old enough to remember Cain's battle
tactics.  The commander of the Pegasus was unquestionably a brilliant
tactician and a superb flyer, but he had always been a maverick.  A
lesser man would have been broken by the things that Cain had done, only
Cain had always had bright results.  This time the results could be
disastrous.  An attack on a Cylon ground base was dangerous enough in
itself, but attempting to land there to steal their fuel?  It was one
thing to raid their convoys, as Cain had done to stay alive.  But what he
had now forced them to do seemed like certain suicide for whoever
undertook the mission.  Cain had set his plan in motion and now it could
not be stopped.  Indeed, thought Tigh, how do you stop a juggernaut?

*****

     Apollo stood in his father's private quarters, watching as Cain
finessed his way out of taking blame for the destruction of the tankers. 
He was very smooth.  The way he spoke, even Apollo might've believed him. 
But Apollo had been there and he knew what he'd seen.
     "I'm sorry, Adama," Cain was saying.  "We were outnumbered and
fighting for our lives.  The fact that we came through it without
casualties speaks well for our pilots, but still, with that many ships in
combat, all around those tankers...." He shook his head sadly. "I knew I
was right when I suggested that we only send my squadrons.  Nothing
against Blue Squadron, but my people are more experienced in hit-and-run
tactics against a convoy."
     "You may be right," Adama said wearily. "Maybe it was a mistake to
mix two forces that never fought together.
     It was all Apollo could do to keep his temper in check.  Cain was
making it sound as though the tankers had been destroyed through sheer
carelessness on the part of his strike wing.
     "Commander," he said stiffly, "with all due respect, Blue Squadron
was nowhere near those two tankers when they blew up.  Commander Cain
knows that perfectly well.  It was on his order that we pursued and
engaged the fleeing Cylon fighters."
     Apollo looked directly at him as he spoke, challenging the commander
of the Pegasus to dispute him.  Then he looked at Sheba, who could not
have helped hearing her father's order to Apollo's squadron.  She refused
to meet his gaze.
     "Nothing against you personally, Apollo," Cain said. "You and your
squadron handled yourselves as well as any warriors I've ever seen.  It
was an honor to have you along.  And I wouldn't dream of attacking the
Cylon ground base without you."
     "You're not seriously suggesting that we....."
     "I don't see that we have any choice now.  Do you, Adama?"
     "It does seem as though we have no other alternative," Adama said.
His voice sounded strained. "I'll give you my decision later."
     "It can't wait till later," said Cain. "We have to start working up
a battle plan right now.  I'd like..."
     "I'll give you my decision."
     "Adama, with all due respect...."
     "Dismissed, Commander."
     Cain stiffened. It was the first time Adama had pulled rank on him
and it clearly didn't sit well. He started to say something in reply,
then he thought better of it.  He nodded.
     "Very well. I'll be in the Officer's Club. Let me know when you've
made up your mind."
     He snapped to and pivoted a smart about-face, departing without
another word.  The others followed him.  No one seemed anxious to linger
in that atmosphere of tension.  No one except Apollo.
     "Father..."
     Adama turned to face him.  Suddenly there was no point to saying
anything.  What Cain had done had locked them on their course.  Cain's
course.  Adama had a difficult decision to make; the hardest part about
it was that Cain had left him no alternatives.  Like it or not, they
would have to do it his way.
     "Nothing," said Apollo and left the cabin.
     Outside, he hurried to catch up to Cain and Sheba.
     "Sheba...."
     They stopped.
     "I'd like to talk to you," he said.
     Clearly, Sheba wasn't in a mood for having conversation.  She had
just seen her father effectively dressed down.  Apollo wondered what else
she'd seen back on the strike mission.
     "I was just about to join my father at the club," she said in a
voice that indicated she wasn't anxious for Apollo's company.
     "It's all right, baby," Cain said. "Talk to the man.  Cassy and I
will save you a seat."
     Sheba flinched slightly at the mention of Cassiopea's name.
     "On the other hand, I think maybe I'll skip the club and return to
the Pegasus."
     Cain nodded. "Suit yourself," he said and moved on.
     Apollo stood in her way.
     "Sheba, what happened out there?"
     "You heard my father's report," she said stiffly. "The tankers were
hit by incidental fire."
     "Are you telling me that someone as good as you are, as good as you
are, as good as the Silver Spar Squadron is, blew the whole purpose of
our mission accidentally?  Is that what you're saying?"
     She hesitated.  "Yes, it is."
     Apollo's lips compressed into a thin line.
     "Well.  Then, by the Lords of Kobol, we've found a weakness or two,
haven't we, Lieutenant?"
     She knew her father had purposely sabotaged the mission.  There was
no question in Apollo's mind, she knew.  What galled Apollo was that she
refused to admit it.  Angrily, he turned and left her before he could say
something that later both of them might regret.  As he said to her
before, they would have to work together.  Only she had just made that a
lot more difficulty.  Cain's words came back to him at that moment. 
"Like father, like daughter."

*****

     Allthe officers were gathered on the bridge of the Galactica,
waiting to hear Adama's decision.  They talked quietly amongst
themselves.  Only Cain remained silent.  He knew without a doubt what
that decision was going to be.  He had already made it for them.  Adama
entered and they all fell silent.
     "Gentlemen, ladies," said Adama, nodding a curt greeting.  "The data
from the scanners aboard the Pegasus have made it clear that to attack
the Cylon ground base on Vulcan would necessitate the forfeiture of
countless livees.  Those are losses unacceptable to me even if we were to
successfully seize fuel from the Cylon depot."
     "Adama," said Cain. "We have no choice.  You know that as well as I
do.  Without fuel, your fleet is dead.  It's only a matter of time before
the Cylon base ships arrive and attack us.  They know we've destroyed
their convoy.  They know you're here, Adama."
     "There is another alternative open to us," Adama said.  "The Pegasus
is carrying a maximum load of fuel.  I'm going to divide it amongst the
Fleet."
     "You're going to what?"
     "It will be sufficient to get us out of Cylon-controlled space
without loss of life.  With any luck, we'll be able to locate another
source of fuel before we run out."
     "Commander," said Cain, "with all due respect, we cannot afford to
risk the lives of every man, woman and child in the fleet on luck.  All
the fuel we need is right there at the base on Vulcan.  Hades's Hole,
Adama!  We've got two battlestars to hit them with!"
     "You seem to be overlooking one thing," Adama replied evenly.  "Do
you realize what could happen if we left this fleet of civilian ships
undefended while we went off to attempt conquering an entire planet?"
     "We're not taking on the planet," Cain protested. "Our objective is
the Cylon ground base.  And we can do it, Adama.  We can be in and out
before they know what hit 'em!"
     "Cain, you know as well as I that we've been pursued by Cylon base
ships ever since we left our home colony planets.  They strike without
warning.  Even now, they could be closing in on us.  You're asking me to
gamble with the lives of everybody in my fleet."
     "Anything's possible," said Cain.  "I prefer to deal in
probabilities, and the probabilities are they with our combined strength
we can achieve our first clean victory since we lost the war.  We
can...."
     "I'm not interested in victories," snapped Adama.  "I'm interested
in saving lives.  The few lives we have left.  Colonel Tigh, carry out
the task of redistributing the fuel from the Pegasus throughout the
fleet."
     Cain's voice was icy as he spoke.  "I will not allow that,
Commander."
     Adama's gaze locked with Cain's.
     "You have no choice."  
     "I think I do.  I think that two yahrens of surviving the Cylons
with no help from you has earned my people the right to choose their own
destiny."
     "The way you chose the d estiny of those Cylon tankers?" said Adama.
     It was finally out in the open.  There was no one aboard either
battlestar who had not heard of the failure of the strike mission against
the Cylon convoy.  The silence on the bridge became a tangible thing.
     "I did what I thought I had to do to assure the survival of our
people," Cain said.  "How long do you think the fuel supply from those
two tankers would have lasted?  We need enough fuel to sustain this fleet
indefinitely.  We must take that base."
     "That's one opinion, Commander," said Adama. "It doesn't happen to
be mine, and I'm going to allieviate your being forced into making any
more decisions contrary to orders.  As of this moment, you are dismissed
from command.  Colonel Tigh, you will assume command of the Pegasus."
     Adama left the bridge.  Nobody spoke.  Slowly, all of the officer
began to file out.  None of them looked at Cain, who stood stunned and
alone.

*****

     Sheba and Spock found Cain in the Officers' Club, sitting all by
himself and drinking.  Sheba had never seen her father looking
so---defeated.  They approached his table.
     "Father," she said, "I want you to know that I, and the men, will
follow you in whatever you decide to do."
     Cain snorted. "Thank you, Sheba.  But you heard the man.  I don't
decide anything anymore."
     "Sir," Spock said unperturbedly, "what we're trying to say is....."
     "I know what you're trying to say.  What I did on that strike
mission was a matter of tactical misjudgment.  Perhaps that's splitting
hairs, but what you're thinking of is mutiny.  I may be the most
stubborn, egocentric warrior in the history of the Colonies, but I'm also
the best damned warrior in the history of the Colonies.  I have no
intention of being remembered as the one who pulled out and left a lot of
defenseless civilians at the mercy of the Cylons.  Now, Kobol knows, I've
always been what you might call....creative....in interpreting the orders
of my superiors, but there's no room for interpretation in Adama's
relieving me of my command.  He took the Pegasus away from me in front of
everyone.  And there's nothing I can do about it."
     Sheba fought to control the quiver in her voice.  "He has no
right...."
     "He has every right," said Cain.  "Even if he were not on the
Council of the Twelve, Adama's commission was posted befor mine and he
outranks me. It burns me, Sheba, but I'll be damned if I'll lead a
mutiny.  Just because I've been forced to live like a space pirate for
the past two yahrens doesn't me I have to be one!"

*****

Baltar:

     I have come a long way, in more ways that one.  From a traitor
condemned to eath because I was of no further use to the Cylon Empire, I
am now in command of three base ships.  And I have come a very long way
indeed, halfway across the galaxy, searching for the battlestar Galactica
and its pathetic fleet.
     I have mixed emotions about my task.  I want to see Adama dead more
than I have ever wanted anything, and I know that the Cylon leaders are
not patient.  Time and time again, Adama has eluded my grasp, and if I do
not find and destroy the last survivors of the Colonies soon, the Cylons
might decide that my usefulness has ended.  On the other hand, should I
manage to destroy Adama's fleet, it is entirely possible that the Cylons
would decide I am of no further use to them.  They have sent a human to
catch a human, but at the same time they have sworn to exterminate
humanity.  I am not convinced that I will be excluded.  I already know
how well the Cylons keep their bargains.
     Back when the Cylon Empire had sued for peace, there had only been
two men who had not been taken in.  Myself and Adama.  Adama had sought
to warn the Council of the Cylons' treachery, but they were all old men
and weary of the war.  They were willing to jump at any chance to bring
the ages-old conflict to a close.
     I had not been fooled.  I suspected that the Cylons were planning
something underhanded, and rather than risk being destroyed with the rest
of the old fools, I had approached the Cylons with an offer that fitted
in perfectly with their designs.  I would act as laison for the Cylon
Empire, lulling the Council into a false sense of security, thwarting
Adama's efforts and buying the Cylon Empire the necessary time to enable
them to get their base ships into position to launch an all-out strike
against the Colonies.  In return for my services, the Cylons had promised
to spare me and my colony, to set me up as leder.  They promised.  As I
had seen it, there was no way for the Colonies to win.  I had no desire
to die with them.
     My efforts had helped the Cylons to make their victory a devastating
one.  But they had not spared my people.  I could still recall the terror
that I felt when I had been dragged from the presence of Imperious Leader
by Cylon Centurions, screaming and begging for my life.  If it had not
been for Lucifer's intervention, I would have been beheaded and flushed
out of the Cylon base ship with the garbage.
     It all seems so long ago.  I know I am on borrowed time, but maybe,
just maybe, I will be able to convince the Cylons that I am of more use
to them alive than dead.  Meanwhile, they have allowed me all the
privileges of a commander of a base ship, and I have every intention of
enjoying my new station in life to its fullest extent.

*****

Chapter Six: The Other Battlestar

     Lucifer glided silently up to Baltar's throne.
     "By your command," said the strange creation to whom Baltar owed his
life.
     "Speak."
     "Our scouts have locted the tra iling vessels of the Colonial
Fleet."
     "They turned back before they were discovered, I trust," said
Baltar.
     "By your order," Lucifer replied.
     "Well done.  This is the final moment."  Baltar sighed.  "At long
last I have overtaken Adama, with sufficient strength to wipe out the
Galactica and its so-called fleet."
     "It should be a splendid battle," said Lucifer.
     "Battle." Baltar spat out the word.  "It will be no battle at all. 
A single battlestar is no match for three base ships.  What we have here,
my dear Lucifer, is what is known as a rout...a humiliation....a
massacre."
     "Then you do not wish to send for support fighters from our base on
Vulcan?"
     Baltar smiled. "I want nothing from Vulcan except a welcoming
parade, a victory celebration, a tribute from the people of Vulcan to the
greatest military leader the Cylon Empire has ever known.  It cannot fail
to impress Imperious Leader.  I will convince him to let me have Vulcan
as my seat of power, from which I will extend my dominion throughout the
star system in the name of the Cylon Empire!"
     "It might be wise," said Lucifer, "to first go through the formality
of defeating the humans before ordering our victory celebration."
     There were times when the sophisticated Cylon construct infuriated
Lucifer beyond all tolerance.  Despite the fact that Lucifer had saved
his life, Baltar hated the sentient machine.  With its ability to tie
into the base-ships computer mainframe, Lucifer had at his command more
knowledge than Baltar could ever hope to amass, and Lucifer seemed to
enjoy pointing out Baltar's shortcomings.  Nevertheless, Baltar was the
one to whom Imperious Leader had placed in command, not Lucifer.  A fact
of which Baltar was fond of reminding Lucifer every chance he could.
     "That had a not of sarcasm, Lucifer," said Baltar.  "Watch yourself. 
You are not the only I.L. series Cylon.  You could easily be replaced."
     "Forgive my impudence," said Lucifer, though he did not sound
contrite.  "Should I give the launch order?"
     "Yes, yes, by all means," said Baltar, anxious now that the
Galactica was finally within his grasp.  "No....wait.  I have an even
better idea.  I will accompany the strike force."
     "You? Go into battle?" Lucifer modulated his voice to allow a much
more subtle note of sarcasm to creep into it.  
     "And why not?" said Baltar.  "Just think of the impression it will
create on the colony of Vulcan when they learn that I personally led the
final assault on the humans.  Prepare a ship with two of your best
pilots."
     "By your command," said Lucifer.

*****

     Apollo and Boomer brought the shuttle alongside the Pegasus and
waited to receive their landing instructions.  On the bridge, Colonel
Tigh was at the command console, pacing nervously as Tiabo manned the
scanners.
     "The fueling shuttles are coming alongside," said Tiabo.
     "Fine, bring them aboard and proceed with the redistribution of fuel
to all the ships in the Fleet," said Tigh.
     It wasn't easy.  Cain's crew nearly resented him.  Tigh had dreamed
once, of commanding a battlestar, but not this way.  Cain had brought it
on himself.  He had pushed too far.  Still, it seemed that Adama had
finally stopped the Juggernaut.  That was how it seemed.  Somehow, Tigh
had his own doubts.  Defeat was a word that was foreign to Cain.
     "Uh, Colonel?" said Tiabo, seeming to read the thoughts going
through his mind.
     "Yes, what is it?"
     "I think it only fair to warn you that there's a lot of bad feeling
festering aboard this ship," Tiabo said. "May I suggest that we delay
this operation until tempers cool?"
     Tigh shook his head.  He had his orders.  They were firm and it was
time to exercise his authority.
     "Commander Adama wants the Fleet to be able to get underway without
a few centons," Tigh said. "We can't do that without fuel.  Now carry out
the order."
     "Yes, sir."
     Apollo gently eased the shuttle through the force field of the
landing bay and set it down upon the deck.  Jolly came up from the
shuttle's cargo bay to announce that all was well.  Together, they
climbed out of the shuttle, only to be confronted by a dozen warriors led
by Sheba and Spock.
     "Is there something we can do for you, Captain?" Sheba said.
     "Not unless you want to assist in the transfer of fuel," Apollo
replied.
     "We are unaware of any fuel transfer order, Captain," said Spock.
     Apollo was in no mood for games.
     "We have a job to do," he said. "Stand aside."
     None of the warriors moved.
     "All right," Apollo said, glancing sideways at Starbuck.  "What's
going on here?"
     "This is merely a show of support for our commander," said Spock.
     "Your commander accepted the order relieving him of command," Apollo
said. "You would do well to follow his example."
     "Look, Captain," Sheba spoke angrily, her tone of voice challenging
Apollo to make an issue of it, "you don't seem to understand the
situation.  Adama humiliated my father, the greatest military man in the
history of the Colonies.  A man who can think and fight rings around your
father.  He had no right to do that.  It was an unconscionable act."
     "Unfortunately, Sheba is correct, Apollo," Spock said.  "Cain saved
every one of us from certain death.  Standing by him is the very least
that we can do.  We cannot permit you to take that fuel."
     "Look," Apollo said, anxious to avoid a confrontation; "no one wants
to see Cain hurt or disgraced.  That's not...."
     "It's a little late to be saying that. Isn't it?" snapped Sheba.
     "Don't you see, Commander Adama has no choice," said Boomer.  "Cain
left him none.  He pushed Adama too far and there was only one course of
action open to him.  For better or for worse, there can only be one
leader.  What you people are doing constitutes mutiny."
     "Indeed," Spock said. "You said that we can only have one lader, and
the way we see it, we've got the wrong one.  We fought for that fuel; we
therefore must keep it."
     "I'm only going to say this one more time," said Apollo tensely. 
"Adama is the Fleet commander.  He's determined that we're not going to
send our defenses off on a wild gamble to take a Cylon ground base while
the rest of the Fleet lies helpless.  I happen to agree with that
thinking.  So you'll either have to stand aside or.....I'll blow you
aside."
     Before any of the warriors from the Pegasus could react, Apollo had
his sidearm out, as did Boomer and Jolly.
     "Well?" said Boomer. "What'll it be?"
     They never had the chance to find out.  At that moment, the bridge
sounded red alert throughout the ship.
     "It's happened!' shouted Apollo, barely making himself heard over
the din of the klaxon. "Just what my father was afraid of, we're under
attack!  Come on, Boomer, Jolly, we've gotta get back to our ship!"
     On the bridge of the Pegasus, Tigh suddenly found that the
resentment of his crew was the least of his problems.
     "Large Cylon task force coming in...."
     "Fifty microns and closing...."
     "Get me the Galactica," snapped Tigh.
     On the command bridge of the Galactica, there was an equal amount of
pandemonium as the ship geared up for the attack.
     "Forty-five microns and closing," Athena reported from her scanners.
     "It's the largest task force since the destruction of Caprica," said
Adama, his face grim.  "They really mean to finish us off this time."
     Cain came charging onto the bridge.
     "What is it?" he demanded. "What have they got?"
     "We're not certain yet," Adama said, "but from the size of the
attack fighter force on our scanners, I'd say they've got at least three
base ships closing in on us."
     Cain stared at the scanner in disbelief.  He swore, furious with
himself.
     "You were right, Adama. And I was wrong.  Horribly wrong. If we had
attacked their ground base, the Fleet would have been completely at their
mercy.  Totally defenseless.  I was a  fool."
     "It's no time for self-recriminations," said Adama.  "What I need
right now is your tactical wizardry.  They didn't use much more than
three base ships to wipe out our entire fleet at Caprica."
     "Yes, but they had the advantage of surprise at Caprica," said Cain. 
"It might be on our side this time."
     "Pull out the Pegasus?"
     "Damn right.  It's on the far side of the Fleet and I doubt it's on
their scanners yet.  They don't know we've got two battlestars.  I'll
bring her around and squeeze them in between us.  But.... I will need my
ship back in order to help you out."
     "Done.  Now get going, Cain. And don't take too long getting into
position. It's going to be awfully close."
     "All right," said Cain, "but I'll be burning up a lot of fuel. I'll
practically have to make light speed."
     "Do I have a choice?  You're going to have to burn off at least half
your fuel to get around them, skirting their scanner range and still make
it in time.  Just be there when we need you."
     "Twenty-five microns and closing," said Athena.

*****

     Aboard one of the Cylon fighters, Baltar relished the moment as his
pilot gave the order to attack.
     "This is going to be a classic defeat," said Baltar, licking his
lips in anticipation.  "It'll be spoken of throughout the Cylon nation
for the next thousand yahrens!  Goodbye, Galactica.  Goodbye, Adama. 
You're finished."
     They weren't even making any effort to escape, thought Baltar.  They
knew it would be useless.  The Galactica, possibly, would be able to
outrun them, but that would mean leaving the rest of the fleet behind to
be destroyed, and that fool Adama would never do that.  They were going
to stand and fight against overwhelming odds.  They had no chance, none
whatsoever.  Baltar knew that he would get his victory and his place in
the Cylon nation would be assured.

*****

     Starbuck was slammed back against his seat as he and every Viper
aboard the Galactica launched to engage the Cylon task force.  He felt
the familiar rush of adrenaline as his Viper hurried down the launch
tube.  He knew it was crazy.  What kind of man would smile at the
prospect of engaging an entire Cylon task force?  Yet he was smiling. 
Gone from his mind were all thoughts of Cain and Cassiopea.  Gone were
all the questions that plagued him when he could not sleep.  This was
what he lived for.  His heart seemed to slam against the inside of his
chest as though it would break free at any moment to fail, pulsating
wildly, upon the floor of the cockpit.  All his senses seemed to be upon
the verge of overload.  Starbuck was feeling terror and it made him high.
     "Okay, boys," he said to himself, "you want me, come and get me!"
     On the bridge of the Pegasus, there was a flurry of activity as the
crew ran for their battle stations.
     "Incoming communication from Commander Cain, sir," Tiabo said to
Tigh. "Coming in on the scramble frequency."
     "Put in on p.a.," said Tigh.
     The image of Cain sitting in the cockpit of a Viper appeared on the
monitors.
     "I'm resuming command of the Pegasus, Colonel."
     "So I've been informed by Commander Adama," said Tigh.
     "Good.  Now get that ship out of there.  Swing her around in a
one-eighty and head out on course one oh.  Stay out of the Cylons'
scanner range.  I'll rendezvous with you."
     "What about the incoming attack force."
     "You let me worry about that. Have all fighters standing by, ready
to launch.  I'll be aboard in ten minutes.  Cain out."
     A cheer went up from every woman and man on the bridge.  Tiabo,
swept up in the spirit of the moment, turned to Tigh and tried,
unsuccessfully, to wipe the smile from his face.
     "It's nothing person, Colonel," he said. "It's just that...."
     "I quite understand," said Tigh. "After all, who can fight a living
legend of outer space?"
     Every monitor aboard the Galactica showed the Cylon fighters
streaking in to the attack.  Athena counted off the time to contact.
     "Closing fast... ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five...
four... three...  two... one..."
     "Positive shield," said Adama.
     The shield slid over the massive observation port on the bridge as
the Cylons attacked.  Every monitor showed Cylon fighters and Vipers
engaging.
     Baltar kept his fighter out of the fray, at a safe distance from
which he could observe the battle.
     "This time the Galactica doesn't have a chance," he said.  He was in
communication with Lucifer, aboard his base ship.  "Concentrate our
fighters on the Galactica's landing bays.  Destroy them and her warriors
won't be able to land to refuel."
     The C ylon fighters converged on the landing bays and scored several
telling hits.
     "Fire in the bay," reported Omega.  "Deck three."
     "Damage control," snapped Adama, "how bad is it?"
     "It's out of control, sir. We're going to have to shut down Alpha
bay and turn off the foce field."
     "They're using our own tactics against us for a change," Adama said.
"Destroy our ability to land our fighters and then run them out of fuel.
Not that we have any to give them."
     "Baltar?" said Omega.
     Adama nodded. "Who else would think of that?"
     "I'd say they're in for slight surprise," Omega said.
     I hope so, thought Adama.  Cain!  Where are you?
     "Continue leading her warriors away from the fleet," said Baltar. 
"They can't keep using full power on their thrusters for very long."
     "A word of caution," Lucifer's voice came back to him over his
comcircuit. "We, too, are expending great amounts of of fuel in a
sustained attack."
     "Yes, but our fighters have a place to land and theirs do not.  Or
will not before long."
     "We have always found it best to attack and then fall back," said
Lucifer.
     "That's why you always lose," Baltar replied.  "We have the last
surviving battlestar just about ready for the kill.  There will be no
falling back.  Not this time.  This time we finish it!"
     Aboard the Pegasus, Cain was once more in charge, having practically
burned up his Viper's engines in order to effect the rendezvous.
     "Steady---steady, skirt their scanner range as closely as possible. 
We can't give our position away.  Not yet!"
     "We are now running parallel to the attacking Cylons on their rear
flank," reported Tiabo, "but the Galactica is taking some pretty heavy
damage."
     "Helm, stand by...We're going in."
     Baltar exhaled as he watched the Galactica  take hit after hit.  Her
shields couldn't hold up much longer.  They had extinguished the fires in
her landing bays by sealing them off and shutting down the force fields,
allowing the air inside to escape, but that also effectively neutralized
those bays, since the ground crews would not be able to enter them
without their suits, and the attacking fighters would now easily fire
directly through the massive entry ports, inflicting even more damage. 
Baltar watched as the Vipers tried in vain to intercept the Cylon craft
as they made their passes at the Galactica.  He had to give Adama's
people their due, they were putting up a valiant resistance, but they
were too outnumbered.
     "Sir, if I may..."
     "Not now," said Baltar, cutting off one of his Cylon pilots.  "I
don't want to miss a moment of the last battlestar's destruction."
     "What about the other battlestar?" the pilot asked.
     "What are you babbling about?  What other battle....." Baltar's
voice trailed off as the scanner on his fighter craft picked up the
Pegasus closing with them fast.
     "It's impossible!" he cried.
     "No sir. It is a second battlestar and it is closing with us at the
rate of..."
     "Turn, you fool, turn!  He's coming straight for us!"
     Like seeds exploding from a pod, the Vipers from the Pegasus
launched from their mother ship and attacked the task force.  Baltar
panicked.
     "Retreat!  Order the retreat!  Return to our base ships!"
     "But the Galactica...."
     "Our fighters are half out of fuel and those Vipers are coming in
fresh," said Baltar.  "Now do as I say before they cut us off!"
     Tiabo looked up from his monitor screens on the bridge of the
Pegasus.  The plan had worked!
     "The Cylon fighters are beating a hasty retreat, sir."
     "Go after them," said Cain. "Get as many as you can before they
reach their base ships.  Then bring your warriors home."
     Cain turned to his communications officer.  Like Tiabo and Spock, he
was an alien, a tall, shark-like humanoid, really.
     "Get me the Galactica."
     There was not a moment of rest for Adama as he coordinated the
defensive squadrons and directed the damage control teams in their work. 

     "What's the situation with the sealed-off landing bays?" he asked.
     "Heavy damage, sir, but not insurmountable," said Omega, his face
showing the strain.  "We're working on the force-field generators and
clearing away some of the wreckage, but they've breached our hull in
several places and it'll be quite some time before we can effect repairs
and land any of our Vipers."
     "Thank God the Pegasus is with us or we'd lose every ship," said
Adama.
     "Commander Cain on the line," said Athena.
     "Adama?  You still alive and well?"
     "Apparently so," Adama replied. "Thank you for the assist.  It
wasn't looking too good there for a while."
     "It doesn't look too good now," said Cain. "What's your status?"
     "Everything is under control for the moment," said Adama.  "I've got
my people running themselves ragged trying to repair the damage, but I'd
like you to land some of our fighters.  It's going to take some time to
repair all our landing bays."
     "My pleasure," said Cain.  "Commander, may I suggest we call a
council of war as soon as possible?  Those Cylons are in a state of shock
right now, but that won't last long."
     "Agreed," Adama said. "We'll meet in twenty centons in my quarters."
     "I'll be there," said Cain.

*****

Chapter Seven: War Council

     It was dark inside the war room.  The only illumination came from
the giant star map before which stood Adama, Cain, Apollo, Tigh and
Tiabo.  Ali stood to one side acting as an unofficial bodyguard for Cain;
a turbo-laser tucked away in a sash bound around his waist.  In the
shadowed silence of the war room, it was almost possible to forget the
frenzied activity that went on throughout the rest of the Galactica as
her crew worked de sperately to allow the ship to recover from the
devastating attack of the Cylon task force.  Each of the men inside the
war room knew that the battlestar could not withstand another such
attack.
     "It's confirmed," Apollo said. "They've got three base ships."
     "Plus whatever they want to toss at us from Vulcan base," said Cain.
     Tigh shook his head. "We can't allow them to launch that united
assault.  We'd never survive."
     "We've got to knock out that ground base on Vulcan and we've got to
do it now," said Cain.
     Adama knew that, even with the Pegasus, they would not be able to
fight against an assault from both the ground base and the base ships,
still to go on the offensive when the odds were so heavily against them
seemed insane.  But then, everything about the rag-tag fleet was insane. 
These ships had never been designed for deep-space travel and yet they
had come this far.  The odds against their ever finding Earth were also
incredible, but that was what they had set out to do.  How much longer,
Adama wondered, can we get away with pushing our luck?
     "We've got to do it, Adama," said Cain, seeing the Commander of the
Galactica hesitating. "It would take them completely by surprise.  We've
got a chance and we've got to take it.  It's the only way."
     "He's right about that, Father," said Apollo.  He knew that it was
no longer a case of leaving the fleet defenseless to mount an unnecessary
attack on Vulcan.  If Vulcan joined the base ships in their next attack,
nothing they could do would enable them to defend the fleet, much less
themselves.
     "Expending lives in exchange for that ground base is against
everything I believe in," said Adama.  "Is there no other choice
available to us?"
     "Adama," said Cain, "two battlestars can overwhelm Vulcan.  We won't
suffer any losses."
     Apollo shook his head.  "With all due respect, sir, I can't agree
with you on that.  Cylon anti-aircraft batteries are practically
foolproof.  We could never hope to get past them without sustaining
casualties."
     "Yes, if we went in in force," said Cain.  "But we could send in a
small team to neutralize their anti-aircraft batteries, then our Viper
squadrons could sweep over the city and shut down the whole place.  Then
we go in and keep on fighting until Vulcan is ours."
     "No," said Adama.  "We cannot hope to capture a land base.  The only
thing we can hope to gain from Vulcan is the fuel we need to elude those
base stars."
     "No!" said Adama.  "We cannot attempt to capture a land base. The
only thing we can hope to gain from Vulcan is the fuel we need to elude
those base stars."
     "As soon as they discover what we've done," said Apollo, "they'll
send those base ships against us with everything they've got.  Our fuel
landing teams would be vulnerable targets on the ground---they'd never
lift off."
     "Once we secure the fuel base," said Cain, "I propose we withdraw
one battlestar to delay those incoming base ships."
     "A single battlestar to engage three Cylon base ships?" said Adama.
     "No, I'm not going to engage them, old friend.  I'm going to delay
them.  I'll give the impression that we're leaving Vulcan and lead them
away from your fleet."
     " Why is it to be the Pegasus that withdraws and tackles the base
ships?" asked Adama.
     Cain shrugged. "Obviously, because the Galactica is damaged."
     "What about the ground force?" said Adama.  "We have no intelligence
reports on the installation."
     "Some of my fighters have flown so close to it that by now they
probably know the name of every Cylon down there," Cain replied.
     "Father, if this installation is anything like the one on Equis,
Startbuck and I have already taken one apart.  All we'd have to do is get
inside."
     Adama turned away from them and walked across the war room.  As the
ranking officer, he would have to make the final decision.  And he would
have given anything not to have to make it.  He couldn't leave it up to
Cain. The commander of the Pegasus was a good officer, but he took way
too many chances.  He had earned his nickname, the Juggernaut had.  Once
Cain made up his mind, he went ahead at all costs, with winning as his
sole objective.  Adama could not blame him for that, yet he could not
afford Cain's tactics in this case.  There were so few of them left, he
thought.  Human life was precious.  To take a chance on losing even one
seemed unthinkable, but how was it possible to mount a military operation
without loss of life?  Especially an operation like the one that Cain was
proposing.
     He was right about one thing, though, and Apollo had seen that, as
had the others.  It would be impossible for the fleet to survive a
unified attack from the base ships and the ground base on Vulcan.  In a
way, they had Baltar to thank for the fact that they had survived the
attack of the three base ships.  Baltar could have summoned up an attack
force from Vulcan, but he had not known about the Pegasus and he had
thought, correctly, that his force alone was sufficient to destroy the
Galactica and its fleet of defenseless ships.  Had he been concerned only
with achieving his objective, he might have been more thorough and called
the ground base for assistance, but Baltar wanted glory.  Adama knew him
well.  He wanted to impress his Cylon superiors.  Now that he knew he was
going up against not one, but two battlestars, Baltar would doubtless
muster as large a force as he could.  Even now, they were probably
regroupoing and preparing their battle plan, making ready for another
attack.  This time, Adama knew, they would not have the advantage of
surprise.  This time, the Cylons would be ready for them and they would
not retreat.
     He turned back to Cain.
     "I'd like to see you in my quarters, Commander."

*****

     There was no time for small talk.  Cain got right to the point.
     "Look, Adama, if you're worried about a repetition of that tanker
incident....."
     "That's precisely what I am worried about," said Adama heatedly. 
"I'm a great admire of your strategic genus, Cain, but yours is a history
of individual initiative.  Not teamwork.  I'm not sure you really
understand our people.  We're not at war with the Cylons anymore, not in
the sense you seem to think we are.  That war is over and we lost.  I'm
not concerned with winning military victories, Cain.  I don't care about
Vulcan beyond getting the fuel we so desperately need. I'm fighting a war
of survival."
     Cain sighed. "Adama, I can't lie to you.  I want to win.  Just
surviving isn't good enough for me.  Nothing would please me more than
taking Vulcan and running up our flag, but I know now that's impossible."
     "Do you?  Do you comprehend the liability of having to fight a
military campaign while protecting a fleet of one hundred and twenty
civilian ships?"
     "Adama, believe me.  I know how you feel.  I know what you're up
against and have been up against ever since you left Caprica burning
behind you.  I know it couldn't have been easy.  I don't want to make it
any more difficult for you.  The very heart of my plan is to use the
Pegasus to divert those base ships away from you, to give you the chance
to return to the fleet with enough fuel to put you safely out of their
range."
     "I appreciate your good intentions," said Adama.  "I just don't want
any more surprisies.  I can't afford them."
     "Then the mission is a go?"
     "I don't really have any choice, do I?"
     "No, old friend, I'm afraid you really don't."
     "I only know that you'll be taking an incredible chance," said
Adama.  "And that if you fail, it will be all over for us."
     "I will not fail!"
     "I hope you know what you're doing."
     "I believe in what I'm doing," said Cain.
     "That's not the same thing," said Adama.
     "Perhaps not, but it's all I have. It's all you have, too."
     "Yes," said Adama.  "I'm afraid so.  Good luck, Cain."
     "You too, Adama."
     Cain left the room, Outside, Ali, Tiabo and his two aides fell in
step with him.  They moved briskly, heading toward the Galactica's one
fully operational landing bay.  Cain heard the sound of running footsteps
and turned to see Cassiopea catching up to them.  She was out of breath.
     "Cain...what is it?  What's happening?  I just heard you were
returning to the Pegasus."
     "You heard right."
     "I was hoping we could talk...."
     "And I was hoping you'd say that, Cassy.  But this just isn't the
time.  I'm sorry."
     "I could ride over to the Pegasus in your shuttle."
     "I'm afraid not.  It'll be safer for you here.  Besides, I don't
think they can spare you."
     "Safer?" Cassiopea's eyes grew wide with alarm.  "Why?  What are you
planning to do?"
     "It's a mission, Cassy.  Nothing we can't handle, but it's no place
for civilians."
     "Who's a civilian?  We're all fighting for our lives.  You must need
more medical techs aboard the Pegasus. Take me with you."
     "Cassy-----You'll understand later.  Just trust me, please."
     Cain leaned forward and kissed her light on the lips.
     "Commander," Tiabo said unevenly.
     "Yes, right away.  Cassy, I'll be back.  You know that.  Try to
spend some time with Sheba."
     "How can I?" said Cassiopea miserably.  "She hates me."
     "Try.  I love you, Cassy."
     He turned and hurried away with his party, without looking back.
     Cassiopea wanted to run after him, but she knew it would be
pointless.  There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do that
would deter him from whatever it was he had decided upon.  That was how
Cain was.  But there had been a time when she had known another Cain, one
very different from the man whom everyone called "the living legend of
outer space."

*****

     The bridge of the Galactica was as busy as it wold be during a red
alert.  Athena and Omega manned their consoles, taking reports from
damage control and coordinating efforts to secure needed raw material
from the other ships in the dilapidated fleet.  Fortunately, the Cylons
had concentrated their attack on the battlestar, hoping to destroy their
greatest threat first so that they oculd then dispose of the remainder of
the fleet at their leisure.  Thanks to the Pegasus, the fleet had escaped
damage from the Cylon attack, with only a few ships taking hits from
incidental fire.  Only those most severely damaged would be scavenged for
material to repair the Galactica.  Accommodations would become even more
crowded, but nobody would complain.  They were glad to have survived.
     "Commander Cain just departed for the Pegasus, sir," said Colonel
Tigh.
     Adama nodded thoughtfully.  "I wonder if we'll ever see him again,"
he said quietly.
     Tigh frowned. "But I thought you felt his plan was sound."
     "It was the only plan we had," replied Adama.  "I'd give anything to
have an alternative."
     "But you're sending Apollo with the ground assault team," said Tigh.
     "Yes," Adama said. "I am."
     He sat down in his chair, leaned back and closed his eyes.  Tigh
didn't envy him.  He had had a brief taste of what it was like to command
a battlestar and, brief though it had been, it had been enough.  Perhaps
Cain got all the glory, Tigh thought, but Adama was the real hero. It was
a role he never wnted, but he had accepted it because there had been no
one else.  If they managed to find Earth, Adama would be hailed as a
savior, but at that moment, Tigh knew that he would trade it all just to
get a night of peaceful sleep.

*****

Cassiopea:

     It hasn't been all that long ago, but it seems to me that I've lived
a lifetime since then.  So much has happened since that time when an
eighteen-yahren-old socialator had met a broken man in a tavern on
Caprica.
     I had not known then, when we first met, that he was the celebrated
Commander Cain of the battlestar Pegasus.  All I knew was that he was a
man in a great deal of pain.
     I found him sitting all by himself in a shadowed corner, his hands
cupped around a goblet of ambrosa, but he seemed to have forgotten all
about his drink.  He didn't seem to be at all aware of his surroundings. 
He sat very straight and very rigid, eyes staring but seeing nothing.  At
first I thought that he was drunk and I would have passed him by, but
then I saw how clear his eyes were.  I stood right in front of him, but
he hadn't seen me.  He seemed to be looking inward, at something that was
torturing him. Tears were flowing down his cheeks.  Cautiously, I moved
closer, then sat down beside him.
     "Are you okay, sir?" I had asked him.
     He hadn't replied.  Gently, I placed my hand on his right forearm. 
He turned toward me, eyes focusing upon my face.  I saw a momentary
flicker of surprise, then puzzlement.
     "Excuse me?" he had said.  His voice seemed perfectly calm and
controlled.
     "I asked if you were okay."
     "Oh!  Well, yes, I'm fine." He frowned slightly.  "Why do you ask?"
     "Well..." I hesitated.  "For one thing, you're crying."
     He raised his hand to his face and felt the tears.  He swallowed and
looked down at his hands, still cupping the goblet.
     "I wasn't aware of it," he said softly.
     "Would you like to talk about it?" I suggested.
     He wiped his eyes.
     "No.  No, I don't think so.  Thank you all the same, though.
     He placed some cubits on the table and slid them toward me.  I loked
down at them, then back at him.  I didn't say anything and made no move
to take the cubits.
     "I-I'm dreadfully sorry," he stammered. "I seem to have made an
embarrassing mistake. I thought you were..." He decided not to compound
the mistake any further.
     "What if I am?" I said.
     "I'm afraid I don't understand."
     "I did not ask you for money.  Whatever it is you're feeling, I
don't think you could buy your way free of it."
     The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.  "No, you're right
there."
     He took the money back.
     "You know, sometimes it helps to talk to a total stranger,"
Cassiopea said. "It's not like burdening a friend with your troubles. 
And I'm a very good listener."
     He remained silent.
     "What have you got to lose?" I said.
     "That's true," said Cain.  "I've already lost everything."
     He began to open up to me, hesitantly at first, and then it all came
bursting forth in a torrent of emotion.  He had been off on a military
campaign and while he had been gone his wife had taken ill and died.  He
was a dedicated warrior, and, as such, had little time to spend at home
with his family.  He had lived for the day when the war with the Cylons
would finally be over and he would be able to return to Caprica, to his
family, and now his wife, the only woman he'd ever loved, was gone.  Her
love had been what kept him going and without her he was shattered.  As
he spoke, the tears began to flow again and soon he was sobbing openly,
unashamedly.  I could tell that he wasn't a man who cried easily.  
     We did not become lover, not at first.  What Cain needed was a
friend, someone he could talk to and lean on for support, and I was happy
to provide that for him.  We saw each other often; we would talk late
into the night, sharing our experiences with each other.  Many times, we
would get together at his home and it was there that I met Sheba for the
first time.
     We were about the same agae and, from the holographic projections
Cain had shown me, I could see how much Sheba resembled her mother.  Even
then, at that young age, I had understood why Cain was unable to share
with Sheba what he'd shared with me.  Sheba was the image of her mother
and a constant reminder to Cain of the woman he'd loved and lost.  He
blamed himself for his wife's death, even though the doctors had told him
that there was nothing that he could've done.  The disease had been
without a cure. Still, Cain felt an enormous amount of guilt over the
fact that he had not been with her when she died, and, as a result, he
found it very difficult to spend much time with his daughter.  He
understood the situation, but time had not yet healed his wound enough
for him to overcome it and he blamed himself for failing Sheba, as well.
     Sheba idolized her father, and, though she would share his grief,
she felt frustration at not being able to help him.  This frustration
grew into resentment.  She resented me for being able to give her father
something she could not, and she was angry at me for taking her father
away.  This anger tuned to hatred when, after a time, we became lovers.
     Cain changed after a time, or, rather, he became his old self once
again.  When he was called back to duty, the best therapy in the world
for him, he once again became the iron-willed commander of the Pegasus
and, though we still shared our special closeness, I was never again to
see his vulnerability.  For a short while, Cain had shown me his inner
self.  I had helped him to pull himself back together once again and,
when we parted, it was with the understanding that we would see where our
relationship would lead.  While he was gone, having taken his daughter
with him to train as a cadet, I went about my daily life, dreaming of the
day he would return and hoping I would find a way to overcome Sheba's ill
feeling for me.  Then I heard that they had perished at the Battle of the
Oasis of Utopia.
     Back then, I thought the world had ended.  I never suspected that my
world would literally end when the Cylons attacked the Colonies and wiped
them out.  I had been lucky to survive and luckier still to find a berth
aboard the Galactica.  When I met Starbuck for the first time, I had been
attracted to him and it had not been until much later that I realized how
much of the attraction had been due to the fact that, in many ways, he
reminded me of Cain.  They're two different me, true, but I imagined that
when Cain had been much younger, he must've been very much like Starbuck,
both with forceful, dynamic personalities, a great deal of energy, brash
and prone to taking risks.  Now I feel myself torn between them and I do
not know what to do.
     Starbuck has been very understanding.  He has not pressured me to
choose and, although he tries not to show his jealousy, I know he must
feel it.  Then, too, there is a vulnerability in Starbuck that he keeps
hidden, just like Cain.  It doesn't make matters any easier than they are
all in a great deal of anger.  I love those two men, even though I know
either one or both of them could die within the next few centons.  In a
way, I envy them. They only have to fight one war.

*****

Chapter Eight: Walking Into A Cylon City...What Are The Odds?

     Boomer glanced up at Apollo as he strapped on his laser holster. 
They were in the pilots' ready room, gathering together the gear that
they would need for their infiltration mission.
     "Look," said Boomer, licking his lips nervously, "what are our
chances of coming out of this thing alive?  I mean, it sounds crazy. 
Walking right into a Cylon city...what do you think the odds are?"
     "You really want to know?" Apollo said.
     Boomer snorted. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
     Apollo's face was grim.  "You want to back out?  Nobody'll blame you
if you do."
     Boomer straightened up and put his hand on Apollo's shoulder.
     "Hey, friend---where you go, I go.  Okay?"
     Starbuck entered the ready room, carrying a large equipment bag. 
From it he withdrew several extra laser pistols and handed them to Boomer
and Apollo.
     "I checked out a little extra firepower for this mission," Starbuck
said. "I figured we'd need it."
     "Sounds really encouraging," said boomer, strapping the other pistol
onto his opposite side, so that he could use one in either hand if need
be.
     "Is this where we report in for the mission?" said Spock, entering
with Sheba.
     "What do you mean?" asked Apollo.
     "We've been assigned to the Galactica ground force."
     "By whose orders?" said Apollo.
     "My father's," Sheba said. She dropped her equipment bag on the
floor and started to get into her jump suit. "We are, after all, the only
people in this room familiar with the target.  It would help to have
esome idea where you're going, wouldn't it, Captain?"
     "You've been there?  On the ground?"
     "No," said Sheba, "but we've been over it many times in our
hit-and-run missions on the ground base.  Since we'll be making
free-flight jumps, it wouldn't be that much different.  I'll know just
where to bring us down."
     "No reflection on your abilities," said Apollo, "but I'm just a
little puzzled.  It doesn't sound like your father, risking you on a
...." he hesitated.  
     "One-way mission?" Sheba said.
     Starbuck cleared his throat.  "Ah, look lady, no offense, but this
kid doesn't go on one-way missions.  And I don't take too kindly to
heroes who start out planning on not coming back."
     "Sorry," Sheba said. "I'm just being a realist."
     "If we were realists, we'd all be dead back on Caprica," said
Starbuck.  "Where's our med-tech?  I want to get going before I start to
get the jitters."
     "We're not taking one," said Sheba.
     "What?"
     "I said, we're not taking one.  We won't have time to stop for
wounded.  We're going to have to get in and out as fast as possible."
     Starbuck forced a smile.  "Okay. That's all right, too.  My kind of
mission....short."
     "You're an optimist," said Sheba.
     "Like to make a little side bet that we make it?" Starbuck asked.
     Their eyes met.
     "What's the side bet?" Sheba asked.
     "Oh, why don't we make it something real personal?" said Starbuck,
his eyes not leaving hers.
     Sheba's lips curved up in a half-smile.  "Bad idea, Lieutenant.  You
wouldn't want me to throw the mission just to avoid paying up, would
you?"
     She finished fastening the closures on her jumpsuit and left along
with Spock.
     "Interesting lady," Starbuck said.
     "Boomer shook his head in disbelief.
     "You're something else, Starbuck," he said.  "You can think of sex
at a time like this?"
     "Later on, I may not have the time," said Starbuck.  "Besides, the
way my luck's been running, she probably will throw the mission just to
frustrate me."
     Apollo grinned. "Starbuck?  Frustrated?"
     "Yeah.  Remember, you heard it here first."
     They suited up and picked up the remainder of their geat.  Together,
they headed for the elevator that would take them down to the landing
bays.  They all remained silent on the way down, each keeping his
thoughts to himself.  The odds were heavily against them.  And there was
no comfort to be derived from the knowledge that if they didn't make it,
chances were that no one else would, either.  As they stepped off the
elevator, Cassiopea was waiting for them.
     "Starbuck, I have to talk to you."
     "You picked a great time," he said.  "We're ready to launch."
     "That's what I want to talke to you about.  I know about your jump.
Where are they sending Cain?"
     "I'm about to jump into an inferno and you want to talk to me about
Cain?  That's just great."
     "You don't understand," she said, grabbing his arm to restrain him. 
"Cain isn't planning on coming back."
     "Starbuck!" Apollo called him from the shuttle's hatch.  "Come on,
let's move!"
     "Look, Cassy," Starbuck said, disengaging himself and walking
quickly toward the shuttle.  "Cain's a survivor.  He'll be back, if
that's what's worrying you."
     Cassiopea kept pace with him.
     "If Cain was expecting to come back, he would've let me come aboard
the Pegasus," she said.
     Sheba threw her gear bag into the shuttle and turned at the sound of
her approach.  "What are you talking about?" she said, having heard
Cassiopea's last comment.
     "Nothing," said Apollo.  "We're all in the same fix.  The odds are
against us, but we'll get through.  We must."
     "No," Sheba said. "She's right. If my father left her off his ship,
he's got to be planning something crazy.  I've got toget back to the
Pegasus."
     Apollo held her back.
     "Sorry.  You're with us, for better or for worse.  Your father's
orders, remember?"
     "I lied," she said. "He doesn't know anything about it.  It was my
own idea."
     "I'll take her place," said Cassiopea.
     "Are you crazy?" said Starbuck.
     Apollo's reaction was more to the point.  "You can't get us to our
objective on the Vulcan ground base," he said.  "She can."
     "What about your medical tech?" said Cassiopea.  "I don't see one."
     "We don't have one."
     "You do now." She pushed past him and entered the shuttle.
     "Cassiopea...Oh, for..."
     "Apollo,' said Boomer, "Come on. We're microns from launch."
     Cassiopea sat down in the shuttle next to Starbuck.
     "Where do you think you're going?" he said.
     "On the mission."
     "Dressed like that?  This is a jump."
     She pointed to the equipment bag she had placed in the shuttle
moments before the others had arrived at the landing bay.
     "Everything I need is right here." She opened the bag, pulled out a
jumpsuit and started to get into it.
     "No way!" said Sheba.  "I'm not going to allow her to come along. I
don't even want her on the same shuttle with me."
     "It's too late," said Apollo.  "We're about to launch.  Besides,
it's not up to you.  She's one of us."
     "Nice tight-knit team we've got here," grumbled Boomer.
     "Yeah," Starbuck replied.  "With support troops like this, who needs
Cylons?"
     "Shuttle stand by to launch," Tigh's voice came over the comcircuit.
     In the background, they could hear Adama's voice, not quite out of
mike range, giving the order to launch.  Tigh repeated it, and, as they
left the Galactica's landing bay, they heard Adama's voice again, just
off mike.
     "May God and the Lords of Kobol be with you," Adama said.

*****

     Lucifer glided up to the clear doors of the throne room of the Cylon
flagship.  His red glowing optical sensors picked up the shape of Baltar,
sitting on the throne and brooding.  Lucifer could have opened the doors
by reaching out and pressing the plate set into the wall, but it was
easier and quicker to use his remote tie-in to the ship's computer, an
extension of his extremely complex brain.  The doors slid open and
Lucifer rolled forward on his silent tracks, stopping just in front of
the throne.
     "Baltar...."
     The human turned around to face him.  He was angry at being
disturbed.
     "What is it?"
     "We must talk," said Lucifer, adjusting his vocal mechanisms to
produce a subtle, deferential tone.
     "Not  now."
     "Time is of the essence, Baltar.  I am sorry that your victory did
not work out quite the way you planned."
     "Begone!"
     "Baltar, even the Imperious Leader in one of his most difficult
moods could hardly blame you for running from two battlestars."
     "I did not run!" said Baltar through gritted teeth.  "I executed a
tactical retreat, you imbecile."
     "There is no need to be abusive," said Lucifer, anxious to reason
with his superior.  "You forget, I am on your side.  I have placed my
fate into your hands. My rise to a position of supremacy over my fellow
I.L. series Cylons is completely dependent on your success---or lack of
it."
     "Oh, spare me," said Baltar wearily.  "What is the latest
intelligence?  As if I should put any faith in scanners that cannot
report the presence of two battlestars rather than one."
     "It is the consensus of the commanders aboard the two supporting
base ships that we should summon aid from the base at Vulcan at once,"
said Lucifer.
     "Oh, it is, is it?"
     "It would seem to be a prudent idea," Lucifer said. "Had you
something else in mind?"
     Baltar grimaced. "I somehow find the idea of some base commander on
Vulcan taking credit for destroying the Galactica slightly annoying. 
Especially since we've come so far and are now poised for the kill."
     "We already had one opportunity to destroy the fleet of the escaping
humans and we did not do so well," said Lucifer.
     Baltar slammed his fist down onto the arm of his throne.
     "We were taken by surprise!  Thanks to your so-called intelligence
reports.  How many squadrons are based on Vulcan? Or is the Cylon
strength in the area also a mystery to you?"
     "I can tell you precisely what we can expect in the way of support
from Vulcan," said Lucifer.  "Four full squadrons.  The equivalent of a
base ship."
     "In other words....we have the firepower of four base ships at our
disposal?"
     "Exactly."
     "How long would it take to bring them into action?  In an
emergency?"
     "It would depend to a great extent upon their battle readiness and
the efficiency of the base personnel and their commander," Lucifer
replied.  "I would not advise waiting too long."
     Baltar considered the suggestion.  "If we caught the Galactica and
her support ship between the two forces, there would be no question of
victory."
     "That is the opinion of our support commanders."
     "Very well," said Baltar.  "Prepare our ships for another attack."

*****

     "Notify all ship captains that the Galactica and Pegasus are moving
off, leaving them temporarily unguarded," said Adama, the battlestar
prepared to get under way.
     "That's not going to make them happy," Tigh said. "Do we tell them
any more than that?"
     Adama shook his head. "I don't think that'll be necessary.  If we
stay here and those two forces hit us, we won't be able to help them.  I
think they realize that.  But use code.  Let's not tell the Cylons that
we're coming.  Helm, make ready to get under way.  Flank speed.  And let
fuel be damned; if those base ships launch a new attack, we're not gone
to need it anyway.  We won't be going anywhere."
     Aboard the bridge of the Pegasus, Tiabo kept Cain posted on the
progress of the other elements of their mission.
     "The shuttle with the ground force has reached Vulcan air space," he
said. "The Galactica is under way."
     "Then this is it," said Cain.  "All warriors to battle stations."
     The klaxon sounded red alert over the p.a. system of the Pegasus.
     "Helm, full speed for those base ships."
     "Yes, sir," Tiabo replied nervously.  Cain had never let them down
before, but then he had never set off against three Cylon base ships
singlehanded.
     "Pegasus is under way," Athena said from the command console on the
bridge of the Galactica.
     Adama took a deep breath.  "My heart is with those four young
warriors over Vulcan," he said.  "They've got the roughest part of it. 
And if they fail, then it's all over----for them and for us."
     "They should be nearing their drop zone about now," said Tigh.
     "Yes.  A drop right into the heart of a Cylon metropolis.  How did
we ever get this desperate?"
     Aboard the shuttle, as it neared drop point, the cockpit lights
shifted form a dim white to red and a small bluzzer began to sound
intermittently.
     "This is it," Apollo said.
     They stood and moved toward the hatch, awaiting the command of their
shuttle pilot.  Omega glanced back at them.
     "Stand by," he said.
     Apollo gave last-micron directions.  "Sheba, Spock, we'll all home
in you, since you have the best chance of spotting the Cylon base center. 
Don't worry about us---you two just concentrate on the drop target."
     The buzzer shifted from its intermittent pattern to a steady,
keening wail.
     "That's it," said Starbuck. "Good luck, everybody."
     "Go!" said Omega and opened the shuttle bay.  One by one they
dropped into space.

*****

Imperious Leader:

     The Cylon flagship bearing me has entered into a parking orbit over
Vulcan and my shuttle descends toward the ground base.  Aboard my
shuttle, I relax in a private cabin.  With the Vulcans totally wiped out,
yet another rless than perfect race has been eradicated, and Vulcan now
belongs to us.
     The Vulcans, like the pestilential humans, had been no concern of
ours until they had developed the potential for space travel.  Then it
had become necessary to watch them very closely.  There can be only one
race of beings in stewardship over the universe.  Order has to be
maintained, and the Vulcans, like the accursed humans, had threatened
that order.  It often happens, I'm truly sorry to say.  The moment some
sentient race discovers space travel, they begin to act as if the
universe exists solely to be exploited by them.  In the past it has been
necessary for us to neutralize the threat of other races who think
nothing of ravaging worlds for their natural resources, irreparably
damaging their ecosystems.  In several cases, we have come across beings
who thought nothing of dismantling entire planets for their raw
materials.  It is intolerable.  The humans had posed such a threat.  They
had spread through space with unbelievable rapidity, establishing
colonies on other worlds, exploring planets where their presence
disturbed the natural order of things.  We had stopped them, finally,
after a war that had lasted longer than any other conflict in the history
of our race.  Yet there are survivors.  Unforunately, we have been unable
to annihilate the humans as thoroughly as we did the Vulcans.  An extinct
race is no threat, but where there are survivors, there is always a
chance that the race will grow and spread again.  It is particularly so
with humans.  It is like pulling a weed out of the ground, but failing to
get to the root.  The plant will only flourish anew, in time.
     The human survivors are constantly on my mind.  What is a monomania
in a one of them is nothing more than a constant awareness in one such as
me.  My three brains enable me to deal with a staggering amount of
information at the same time.  I am a product of Cylon genius, a living
testimony to the perfection of my race.  I have been bred to be the
supreme leader, a product of highly specialized training and
bio-engineering.  When I had received my third brain, with its storehouse
of all the accumulated information gathered by the Cylon culture, I was
appalled to learn how human society functioned.  It was at that point
that I determined that they must be wiped out completely, for if our
culture was an ordered one, theirs was one of utter chaos.
     They seem to exercise absolutely no control over themselves, these
humans.  Their leaders, rather than having been born, bred, and
engineered to fulfill their roles were actually selected by a vote of the
lesser members of their society.  Gad!  To think that those who were to
be ruled chose those who would rule them!  Utter nonsense!  Their matings
patterns are nothing more than random selection.  In our culture,
breeding is controlled solely by the geneticists, mating patterns
arranged such that the offspring is the desirable type any time a
particular breed of Cylon is needed by the society.  Workers, warriors,
leaders, all were bred as products of sophisticated genetic engineering. 
The mating habits of the humans were, in comparison, as haphazard as
those of beasts.  With the humans, the man criterion was/is something
they call(ed) "love."  Love? Bah!  That's an abstract concept that makes
no sense whatsoever.  The average Cylon would have no idea what to make
of it, and even I, with my third brain, am unable to arrive at a
definition closer than an approximation, something that seems to be a
blend of physical attraction and perhaps a system of shared values.  I
know it is more complex than that, and it galls me that I cannot fully
understand it, for the humans are my enemies and the best way to defeat
an enemy is to know him.
     There is much about the humans that I do not understand.  It puzzles
me greatly that they have managed to accomplish so much despite the fact
that they have exercised so little control over their own destiny.
     If we had acted like the humans do, we would have remained
essentially unchanged for thousands of years.  Evolution is a slow
process, and the results achieved by nature, when not guided by rational
thought, are not always desirable.  That is why we have taken a direct
hand in our own development.  It has been our destiny to be the supreme
race in all the universe, and to that end our scientists have labored to
achieve the totally superior being.  Humans, with the exception of a
variance in superficial physical characteristics, are virtually
indistinguishable from one another.  Not so we, who have a achieved a
level of diversity not to be found elsewhere in the universe.
     The Cylon leaders, such as me, are complex, biologically engineered
organisms, our three brains capable of simultaneously receiving and
evaluating an almost limitless amount of information and sensory input,
our multiple eyes able to observe and keep track of many things at once,
their highly developed auditory systems acting as multiple channels and
receivers on a sophisticated communications console.  Even as I rest in
my cabin aboard the shuttle, I am able, through augmentation of my
physical senses by my communications helmet, to keep track of all major
Cylon activity back on the home world.  The helmet enables me to tie into
the communications network aboard my flagship and thereby receive
intelligence and dispatch orders throughout the Cylon system.  I am not
omniscient, but I am as close to that state as it is as possible to be. 
In light of all this, the surviving humans' ability to constantly elude
all efforts to eradicate them is an unceasing irritant.  They are
hoplessly inferior and yet they persist in thwarting all attempts to wipe
them out.  I'm surprised that they've managed to survive so long.
     The humans are inferior to even the lowliest Cylon drone, the basest
of organic Cylon life.  Our executive officers, with their two brains,
are the superiors of humans.  Cylon Centurions, cybernetic organisms that
are part product of genetics and part technological achievement, possess
only their first brains, yet still should be capable of outperforming
humans on all levels.  Cylons citizens, who possess first brains but lack
inorganic autmentation, have reached a higher level of evolution than
have the human barbarians.  Our drones, whose achievements, or rather,
lack of them qualify them for nothing more than the rudimentary brains
that have trained and educated them in their early yahrens, perform only
the basest tasks in Cylon society.  Still, they perform their tasks
flawlessly, incapable of being distracted from their concentration as the
humans are.  Even the inorganic Cylons, I.L. series computers such as
Lucifer and cybernaut Cylon warriors, droids used to augment our attack
forces, mystify the humans.  I know that the humans have, several times,
managed to obtain damaged cybernatu warriors and they must have had
yahrens in which to study them, in spite of which they have obviously
learned nothing.  The droids fashioned by the humans, on the other hand,
were pathtetically primitive.  Why then is it so difficult to terminate a
handful of the survivors of the human colony worlds, beings so primitive
that their annihilation should have posed no greater problem than that of
the Vulcans?  I am anxious to resolve this problem, for I have many other
matters to attent to and I do not like to leave tasks uncompleted.  I
have tried to learn how to think like a human, and, although I am able to
come closer to achieving that goal than any other Cylon, still I am not
human, and their thought processes remain, by and large, a mystery to me. 
They are simply incomprehensible, lacking any semblance of logic or
order.  So, to facilitate the completion of the task, I had chosen
Baltar.  It takes a human to catch a human.
     Ah, Baltar.  He is yet another example of human incomprehensibility,
being a traitor to his own race. It would be impossible for a Cylon to do
what Baltar had done, bargaining to save himself at the expense of
countless lives.  Baltar had volunteered to act as a go-between for our
nation.  It was with his help tht we had engineered the plot that
resulted in the destruction of the Colonies.  He had convinced the human
leaders that we were weary of the war and were anxious to sue for peace. 
It was through Baltar's efforts that a peace conference had been
arranged.  It was because of BAltar that the war-weary humans had dropped
their guard, foolishly believing that we would ever allow them to coexist
with us.  The man had hoped that in return for his treacherous
activities, we would spare his world and set him up as their puppet ruler
there.  I had agreed to the "bargain," as if there could ever be an equal
exchange between members of unequal races.  I had used Baltar has a tool
and then discarded him, thinking that the tool had served its purpose. 
It was Lucifer who had convinced me that killing Baltar would constitute
a waste of a valuable resource.
     I value Lucifer very highly.  The most advanced of the I.L. series,
the self-aware computer has an advantage in dealing with humans that I do
not possess.  In spite of his three brains, I am incapable of purely
objective analysis, as is Lucifer.  All of my perceptions are colored by
my experiences, the fact that I am not just a Cylon, I am the Supreme
Cylon.  My reasoning is Cylon reasoning, whereas Lucifer, although a
product of Cylon technology, is capable of purely objective reasoning,
untainted by any prejudice or preconceptions.  Lucifer has been built by
machines and....as he amasses more knowledge, he has redesigned himself,
builing in improvements until he has achieved sentience.  Lucifer is the
ultimate product of Cylon machine evolution, and, as such, he has not
reacted to Baltar with the same feelings of disgust as I have.  Lucifer
is capable of having "feeling," after a fashion, but he functions only by
evaluating information, rather than reacting to it emotionally.  Even
though Lucifer had countermanded Baltar's death warrant, I have forgiven
him.  It had not been an act of mutiny.  Lucifer had merely pointed out
that though Baltar had been used, he had not yet been used up.  It was
valid reasoning.  Thanks to Lucifer, I have learned how to take advantage
of a human weakness of which I had not been aware.  Vanity.
     It seemed that the commander of the battlestar Galactica and Baltar
had known each other for a very long time, and Adama's achievements in
the humans' society were far greater than those of Baltar.  Had they both
been Cylons, it would simply have been an accepted fact that Adama had
been awarded a higher place in their society because he was more
qualified to hold it, but being human, Baltar was vain and believed that
the honors given to Adama were due him as well.  It is absurd to think
that way, but it seems that humans are not content to accept what they
are, instead deluding themselves with false perceptions of what they feel
they are entitled to be.  It took a great deal of time for Lucifer to
explain this to me, for it is a type of thinking that is completely alien
to me.  It proved to me, yet again, the inferiority of the human race. 
Baltar's feelings toward Adama led him to hate the man with such a
passion that he had been willing to sell out his own race in order to
enable himself to triumph over Adama.
     When I was made to understand all this, it did not escape me that by
giving Baltar the command of the force sent to hunt down the human
survivors, I was sending a less qualified human against one who was more
qualified, by the standards of their own race.  Some would compare it to
sending off a Cylon drone to perform the tasks of a centurion.  Yet, are
there not compensations that should enable Baltar to complete his task? 
I gave him the command of a force that was vastly superior to that
commanded by Adama, and he has Lucifer with him, and Lucifer's superior
reasoning prowess would surely compensate for the inferiority of Baltar's
intellect, yes?  Lucifer's presence on the mission serves a twofold
purpose.  Besides compensating for Baltar's shortcomings, Lucifer is in a
position to observe Baltar very closely.  Through Lucifer's observation
of Baltar, I will learn a great deal more about the humans!
     Being human, Baltar reacts like a human, so he is in a better
position to hunt the survivors.  Being vain, he has a double incentive to
seek his task accomplished.  It will result in the destruction of a man
whome he resents to the point of hatred and, surely, it will prove to me
that he is qualified to hold a position of importance in our nation.  In
fact, if he accomplishes his task, the death order that Lucifer had
postponed will be carried out.  If he fails in exterminating the sole
survivors of his race, he will be executed the moment Lucifer determines
that there is nothing more to be learned about the humans from observing
him. Either way, the objective will eventually be accomplished.

*****

Chapter Nine: His Eminence

     Had it not been for Baltar's vanity, the base commander on Vulcan
would have been aware of the two battlestars in his sector, but the
battle between the fleet commanded by Adama and the Cylon task force led
by Baltar had taken place well outside the range of the base scanners, so
he knew nothing of the threat to Vulcan.  The only threat he was
concerned with at that moment was that constituted by the visit of
Imperious Leader.  The supreme Cylon was coming to dedicate the base and
Vulcan as a new center of Cylon culture.  The Vulcans had been a quite
advanced society.  Their culture paled in comparison with that of the
Cylons, but they had nevertheless been brilliant architects.  The capital
city of Vulcan, Shi'Kahr, was a marvel of crystalline beauty. The
conquest and extermination of the Vulcans had resulted in a great deal of
damage to their works, and the Cylon base commander had worked tirelessly
to restore the cities.  Vulcan's atmosphere and climate were such that it
could easily support Cylon life, and it would be wasteful not to
establish a flourishing colony upon the planet, yet another extension of
the glorious Cylon Empire.
     Following what, in human measurement, would have been five yahrens
of ceasless labor by a massive force of Cylon workers, Vulcan had been
restored to its former beauty.  But the human raiders had seriously
delayed the reconstruction.  Their attacks had been directed at the
ground base exclusively, but each time they had caused extensive damage
that took time to repair.  The base commander did not know where the
humans had come from, he only knew that they were a severe annoyance to
him.  He had been placed in charge of establishing the Cylon colony upon
Vulcan and that was his sole concern.  The humans were an irritant, but
he could not mount an offensive against them.  He had no base ship at his
command, and the human radiers had proved astonishingly skilled at
avoiding his ground defenses.  He did have fighter craft that he could
send against them, but they were handicapped by the speed to return to
the base for fuel and, as such, could not pursue the accursed Vipers,
whose battlestar could take them safely out of range.  He had not
reported the presence of the human radiers to his superiors because they
would have wanted to know why it had taken him so long to complete his
task on Vulcan.  If he had reported the presence of a Colonial
battlestar, his superiors would have sent a base ship to Vulcan and then
they would have learned that the damage caused by the Cylon conquest of
the Vulcans was far less severe than he had reported.  He had vastly
exaggerated his reports because the humans had caused him long delays in
the completion of his mission.  Each time they attacked the ground base,
he had to take time to repair the damged they had caused, which meant
pulling a sizeable portion of his labor force off the project of
rebuilding the cities.  He had hoped that he would be able to complete
his task, for the human raiders had attacked only the ground base and
spared the cities and, little by little, he was making progress.  Once
the job was done, then he could report the presence of the battlestar
without having to worry about the commander of a base ship reporting back
to his superiors that the Vulcan base commander was not up to the task
that had been given him.
     Now he had learned that Imperious Leader himself was coming to
dedicate the new Cylon capital and he dreaded the visit.  He had driven
his worker drones to the point of exhaustion and his droids to the point
of breakdown in order to repair the damage caused by the last raid of the
humans before Imperious Leader arrived, and his greatest fear was that
the humans would attack while the Imperious Leader was on Vulcan.  Then
Imperious Leader would see for himself how much difficulty the base
commander had in repulsing these raids and it would not go well for him. 
The base commander had no desire to lose his second brain and live out
the remainder o fhis days as a simple centurion, or worse, to lose both
brains and receive a rudimentary one, becoming a lowly worker drone.  He
would rather die.  If only the humans did not attack until after the
supreme Cylon's departure.  Then he could safely report the "sudden
arrival" of a Colonial battlestar and request a base ship to be sent to
Vulcan.  He did not think that the humans would risk an attack on the
ground base when their scanners detected the presence of Imperious
Leader's flagship in orbit around Vulcan, but their commander was
incredibly audactious and there was no telling what humans would do.
     He stiffened when the bronze Cylon centurion entered the base
command room.
     "His eminence, the Imperious Leader, will be with us shortly," the
centurion announced. "His shuttle has landed and his is even ow on his
way to the Grand Hall."
     The base commander checked his appearance one last time and hurried
to the Grand Hall to greet Imperious Leader.  If everything went well, it
could mean a promotion for him.  If anything went wrong, it would be a
disaster.
     The Grand Hall was full to capacity when he arrived.  Everyone was
anxious to see the Imperious Leader in person and to give him the proper
welcome.  His visit to Vulcan was a great way to honor them all, and they
waited silently, expectantly.  Most of them had never even seen Imperious
Leader.  He was the embodiment of the greatness of their race. His
entrance would be a moment of prodigious importance.
     A bronze centurion marched into the hall and at once all eyes were
on him.
     "Presenting his eminence," said the centurion, "our Imperious
Leader!"
     The Imperious Leader, escorted by a party of his executive officers,
appeared at the end of the hall, and the crowd parted for him as he moved
down the center of the room toward the throne at the end of the hall. 
Every Cylon stared, straining to get a good look at the red-robed figure
that towered over all of them.  He moved quickly yet with majesty as he
approached the throne and ascended the steps behind it.  He stood for a
moment upon the platform, looking out over the assembled multitude, then
he took his place upon the throne, sitting atop a huge cylindrical
pedestal.  The strange, dissonant music that was the anthem of the Cylon
nation stopped as Imperious Leader sat down.
     "My fellow Cylons," he said. "It is indeed an honor to dedicate this
center of Cylon culture to the advancement and perfection of the Cylon
race.  With this secure outpost deep in the heart of the Nevasa star
system, our supremacy is assured...
     He was interrupted as a series of explosions rocked the Great Hall. 
Imperious Leader turned to the base commander.
     "What, pray tell, was that?" His voice was ominous.
     The base commander stammered that he didn't know, although he felt
certain that his worst fears had just been realized.
     "Well, find out, before I find a post more suitable to one of your
limited knowledge."
     As the base commander hurried out of the hall, motioning several
centurions to follow him, another series of explosions sent debris
raining down upon the throng.

*****

Omega:

     We never knew how close our mission had come to ending before it had
begun.  We were not aware that Imperious Leader had arrived at Vulcan,
and the only thing that saved our shuttle from being picked up by the
flagship's scanners was Vulcan itself.  The supreme Cylon's ship was on
the other side of the planet when our shuttle entered Vulcan's
atmosphere.  I had known that there was a good chance of the shuttle
being picked up by the ground base tracking station, but I had counted on
the fact that they would be on the lookout for fast-moving Viper
fighters.  According to Commander Cain, shuttle traffic between the
ground base and the Cylon orbital stations would aid them in their
mission.  It was not uncommon for the orbital stations and the satellites
to be damaged by incidental fire in battles between Cylon fighters and
Cain's Vipers.  In the two yahrens that Cain had waged his private war
against Vulcan, he had seriously delayed the Cylon reconstruction efforts
and had knocked out several of their orbital stations.
     "It's going to be tense going in," Cain had told me, "but they're
going to be expecting a squadron of Vipers, if they'll be expecting
anything.  They'd never think anyone would be crazy enough to attempt
piloting a shuttle through their ground defenses."
     "Thanks," I had said sourly.
     "Well, that wasn't quite the way I meant it," Cain said.  "Still, it
is crazy and you're going to be completely on your own.  We'll be
counting on your to get our warriors down there.  We won't be able to
give you any cover.  The hardest thing for you to do will be to keep your
cool.  You've got to buy those people as much time as you can.  As soon
as you make the drop, there'll be the temptation to haul your astrum out
of there as fast as you can.  Don't do it!  You don't want to alert the
Cylons on the ground.  Keep your head and maintain a slow and steady
speed, as if you were heading for a satellite or one of the orbital
stations.  I'd aim for a satellite if I were you, they're not equipped
with scanners.  The moment you close with one of the satellites, then go
like hell.  Chances are you won't be noticed, but if so, then at least
you'll have a head start and you won't have alerted the ground base until
the last possible moment.  Are you man enough for the job?"
     "I am, sir."
     "Good boy.  And may the blessings of the Lords of Kobol guide you."

******

Chapter Ten: Action!

     No sooner had Apollo, Starbuck, Boomer, Cassiopea, Spock and Sheba
made the jump than Omega knew exactly what Cain had been speaking of.  He
felt suddenly alone, completely vulnerable in the sky above the ground
base.  He had been nervous going in, but with the others in the shuttle
with him, it had been easier to take.  Now he felt as if any moment he
would come under fire from one of the anti-aircraft batteries on the
ground or from a pursuing Cylon fighter.  His nerves screamed at him to
hit full power on the turbos and get back as soon as possible, but he
knew that he had to buy time for the ground assault team.  There was also
the fact that he could be easily overtaken by a fighter if he alerted
them to their presence, so he flew slowly, steadily maintaining a
constant course for one fo the Cylon weather satellites.  By the time he
left Vulcan's atmosphere, he was drenched in perspiration.  Biting his
lower lip, he kept repeating to himself over and over, "Steady, steady,
keep it cool, don't blow it."
     Just at the point when it would appear as if he was about to
rendezvous with the weather satellite, he goosed his engines to full
power.  There followed an agonizing period of time in which he was not
sure if he had escaped pursuit or not, but eventually he was satisified
that he had not been spotted.  He breathed a deep sigh of relief.  All
that remained for him to do was rendezvous with the Galactica.  His part
in the mission was finished. For the others, it would be just beginning.

*****

     Spock was the first one out.  Sheba followed him, then Apollo,
Cassiopea, Starbuck and Boomer.  Spock went into free-fall position,
spread-eagled and facing down.  Seconds later, Sheba had caught up with
him, then Apollo and soon all of them were clustered together, breathing
through their helmet respirators as they plunged groundward.  The drop
seemed to take forever.  It was a very long time since any of them had
jumped, and, while they all had been trained for it, the hypnotic quality
of the experience was still overpowering.  In spite of the fact that they
were all plunging into danger, into enemy territory, they were
nevertheless exhilarated by the sensation of flight.  They had to keep
reminding themselves to keep an eye on Spock, their droop leader, and not
get lost in reverie.  Soon, Spock was giving them the signal to deploy
their droughe chutes.  Simultaneously, they released the small chutes
that would deploy to slow them down before they could release their main
chutes.
     Spock scanned the ground below them, using his chin to adjust the
magnification on his helmet.  There it was---their target, to their far
left at 0200 centons from the point directly below them.  Omega had
brought them in perfectly.  Spock gave them a thumbs-up signal, and one
by one they cut loose their primary chutes and deployed their mains,
which spread out like wings above them.  Spock went in first, in a long
glide, and the others followed him.  Now they could expect trouble. 
Their huge winglike chutes would soon be clearly visible from the ground
and they would make very easy targets.
     Starbuck was thinking much the same thing as he entered his long
glide to follow Cassiopea.
     "Whatever you tin cans are doing down there," he said to himself,
"just don't look up."
     As they neared the ground, a Cylon centurion did precisely that. 
Perhaps a shadow had alerted him, perhaps some Cylon intuition had warned
him of their descent, but he looked up, spotted them and instantly ra
ised his weapon to take aim.  Apollo, anticipating just such a
possibility, had drawn his laser as they neared the ground and he fired,
dropping the Cylon where he stood.  Two other Cylons saw their comrade
fall, rushed to his side, looked up and quickly brought their weapons to
bear, but Spock was already gliding in behind them.  Just as he was about
to land, he fired and both Cylons fell.  Spock touched down, vulnerable
while he still wore his chute.  A Cylon came running out of the building
just behind him, but Starbuck dropped him before he could give the alarm,
alerting the others.  The Cylon tumbled down the steps of the building,
the metallic sounds of his armor on the stairs making a hullabaloo that
seemed as loud as a red alert klaxon to the warriors.
     The team hurriedly gathered together, leaving their chutes.  There
was no point in trying to hide them, their presence would be discovered
soon enough and speed was of the essence.
     "These munitions bunkers could give us a good diversion while we try
to penetrate their headquarters," said Apollo.  
     "Shouldn't take much to send them skyhigh," agreed Boomer.
     Starbuck reached for the demolition charges in his gear bag.  "Let's
get to it."
     They moved quickly, planting the charges and setting the timers
while Cassoiopea and Spock kept watch for Cylons.  Starbuck set his final
charge and checked his chronometer.
     "Okay, let's get outta here?  Were to?"
     "This way," said Sheba.
     They moved off at a trot, keeping their weapons ready and hugging
the sides of buildings wherever possible.  
     "Wait," said Apollo, Starbuck and Cassiopea cauth up with them. 
"Where's Spock?"
     "I'll go back," said Starbuck.
     "You can't.  Those charges will go off at any micron."
     Even as he spoke, Spock rounded a corner, running to catch up with
them.  A Cylon moved in behind him.
     "Halt!"
     Spock turned, drawing his weapon, but he was too late.  The Cylon
fired.  Spock was firing even as he fell.  He killed the Cylon and
started crawling away from the bunkers, desperately trying to get out of
range of the blast that was to come.  Sheba took off toward him at a dead
run.
     "Sheba!' Apollo shouted. "Damn!" He took off after her.  
     Sheba reached Spock and bent down, trying to help him to his feet. 
The shot had grazed his hip, burning out a chunk of flesh and bone.  The
wound had partially cauterized itself, but blood (Vulcan blood is green)
was seeping from it.
     "Leave at once!" Spock growled through clenched teeth.
     Cassiopea ran to them to give what assistance she could.
     "The whole damn place is going to blow up," said Starbuck.
     "We can't worry about them," Boomer said. "We've gotta take out
those ground batteries.  Otherwise, two battlestars are gonna get cut to
ribbons."
     Starbuck gritted his teeth.  He hated to leave them behind, but each
moment that they wasted increased the chances of the mission's failure. 
Boomer was right!
     "Let's go," he said. They charged into the entrance of the Grand
Hall, ready to shoot their way through.
     Cassiopea had removed a small electronic cauterizer from her kit. 
She had no time to do anything else but stop the seepage of blood, which
was drenching Spock's leg.
     "This is going to hurt," she said.
     "Can't you give him something for the pain?" said Sheba.
     "There's no time," Cassiopea replied as she quickly set about her
task.
     "We can't have him in a stupor," said Apollo, "he'd be dead weight. 
On your feet, Spock, it's your only chance."
     With Sheba covering them, Apollo and Cassiopea got Spock between
them and he struggled to his feet.  His leg would not support him and
putting weight on it was agony. Spock's face was a mask of pain as they
half supported, half carried him away from the bunker.  The first series
of charges went off and all three of them were knocked to the ground. 
Spock screamed with pain.  They picked themselves up and moved off again.
     Inside the Grand Hall, Starbuck and Boomer moved slowly, watching
every branch of the corridor.  They heard the first series of charges go
off and ducked into an alcove.
     "Where the hell are they all?" hissed Starbuck.
     "I don't know," Boomer replied.  The second series of charges went
off and the building shook.  "There go the bunkers."
     "What's going on?" said Starbuck.  "Can't they hear it?"
     As he spoke, the main doors to the hall burst open and a crowd of
Cylons came running out.  Starbuck and Boomer tried to meld with the
wall.
     "Search the grounds," said the base commander.  "I'll be at the
control center." He moved off quickly down another branch of the
corridor.
     "Did he say he'd be in central control?" said Starbuck.
     Boomer nodded. "We lucked out, friend, or so I hope."
     They waited until the last Cylons had rushed by, intent on getting
outside to see what had caused the blast, then they moved off quicklky
down the same branch of the corridor taken by the base commander and his
escort.
     Outside, the others huddled in the shadows as Cylons came pouring
out of the surrounding buildings.  Cassiopea held her hand over Spock's
mouth to prevent him from involuntarily crying out.
     "How is he?" said Apollo.
     "He shouldn't be moving."  She shook her head, not knowing what to
do.  They couldn't possibly risk staying there.
     "I'll stay with him," said Sheba.
     Cassiopea shook her head. "No, you're needed with Apollo.  This is
my job."
     "She's right," Apollo said. He handed Cassiopea one of his two
sidearms.  "Keep your head down," he said. "I hope you won't have to use
this."
     "Worry about the Galactica," she replied.  "And the Pegasus."

*****

     The Galactica was fast approaching Vulcan.  Athena looked up from
her console at Adama. There was a look of intense anxiety on her father's
face.
     "I'm picking up sonic disturbances from the surface of Vulcan," she
said.
     "We're closing to launch range," said Colonel Tigh.
     "And within range of their ground batteries," Adama said tensely.
     "Do we launch?" said Tigh.
     Adama shook his head.  "We wait."

*****

     On the Pegasus, Tiabo clenched his fists and swore in exasperation.
     "What is he waiting for?  We'll be on their scanners and under
attack within microns!"
     Cain watched the screens intently.  "He wants to give the ground
assault team every chance to knock out their defense systems and get
their astrums out of there."
     "What about their fighters?  Once they're airborne...."
     "We have eight squadrons to four of theirs," said Cain.  "It's the
ground batteries we have to worry about.  Once we get in range, those
missiles can take us out.  A Viper could outmaneuver them and shoot them
down, but we won't be able to evade them.  Have all ship's batteries
standing by----if they don't get those ground defenses our only chance
will be to try and shoot those birds before they get us."
     "What are our chances?"
     "Don't ask. You'll only get upset."
     "Closing to killer range," said the officer manning the scanners.
     "Don't wait too long, Adama," Cain said softly.

*****

     As the Cylon base commander entered the fire control center, one of
the I.L. series Cylons manning the consoles reported that their scanners
were picking up intruders.
     "Scan for identification," said the base commander, even though he
was certain who it was.  That damned human raider had ruined everything,
but perhaps his audacity had finally taken him too far.  It appeared as
though he had actually been fool enough to get within range of their
ground batteries.  They would make short work of him and he would be free
of him at last.  "Alert ground-to-air stations and interecept fighters,"
he said.
     As the Cylon began to bring the weapons systems to bear, Starbuck
and Boomer leaped into the room, firing in all directions.  One of the
consoles, along with its operator, was instantly demolished.
     "General alarm!" shouted the base commander, clawing for his
sidearm.
     "Too many of them, Boomer," Starbuck shouted. "Back out!"
     Starbuck ducked out of the control center just in time.  The energy
beam from the base commander's weapon singed some of his hair off.  He
pulled out one of his demolition charges, quickly set the timer and
lobbed it inside the room.
     "Get down!" he shouted at Boomer.  They hit the floor just as the
control center was blown to bits.  Smoke came pouring out of the room. 
Starbuck looked up to see the arm of a Cylon cybernaut lying just before
his face.
     "Let's move!"
     They ran for the exit, shooting their way through, taking advantage
of the confusion.  They turned a corner in the corridor and almost shot
Apollo and Sheba.
     "Did you find the control center?" Apollo said.
     "We found it all right," said Boomer.
     "Where..."
     "It used to be in there," said Starbuck, jerking his head in the
direction they had come from.
     "Nice work.  Now let's secure that fuel depot."

*****

     "We're in scanner range," said Tigh. "They'll be coming up after us,
with or without ground missile support."
     "Launch," said Adama.  "Notify the Pegasus."
     "The Galactica is launching," Tiabo said to Cain.
     "Good."
     "Now what?" said Tiabo.
     Cain frowned. "I don't think I follow you, Colonel."
     "What do we do now?  What's your plan?  You never did tell me what
you've got up your sleeve."
     "That's right, I never did, did I?" Cain smiled.

*****

     The death of the base commander caused a fatal delay in the
launching of the Cylon fighter squadrons.  The Vipers came streaking in
over the ground base, laying down a blanket of fire.  Some of the Cylon
fighters managed to launch, but most of them were destroyed before they
could leave the ground. With the central control station of the ground
base destroyed, the missile launchers were useless and the Vipers came in
unopposed.
     Jolly, leading Apollo's strike force in his absence, marveled at how
easy it all seemed.  It was the first time that they had caught the
Cylons on their own turf, the first time they outnumbered them.  His
enthusiasm was short lived, however, as several new Cylon fighter
squadrons appeared, diving down on them.  He didn't even have time to
speculate as to where they had come from.  Suddenly they had a fight on
their hands.
     Before the Cylon ground base commander had died, he had managed to
send a distress call to the commander of Imperious Leader's flagship. 
Although the flagship commander would have loved to engage the Galactica,
he didn't dare.  His first responsibility was to Imperious Leader.  The
supreme Cylon had to be protected at all costs.  He kept his ship out of
sight of the Galactica behind Vulcan, blocked off from Adama's scanners
and he sent in his fighter squadrons.  They would engage the Vipers, but
their primary mission was to rescue Imperious Leader and return him to
his flagship.  Once Imperious Leader was safely aboard, then they would
be able to dispose of the invading humans.  The flagship commander's
greatest fear at that moment was that Imperious Leader could be killed in
the attack.  He could not afford to take any chances.  He had to pull
Imperious Leader out of there, no matter how many fighters it would cost
him.

*****

     Baltar was anxious to take another crack at Adama's fleet.  He had
conquered his earlier fears concerning the two battlestars.  After all,
he had three baseships at his command.  They had turned him back the
first time only because he'd been taken by surprise.  This time there
would be no surprises.  And if things went wrong, he would send for help
from the ground base on Vulcan.  Not even two battlestars would be able
to survive such a concerted attack.  He summoned Lucifer.
     "Are our ships ready to launc the final assault against the
Galactica and her sister ship?"
     "There is a problem," Lucifer said.
     "I don't want to hear about any problems," Baltar snapped.  "We've
got them where we want them.  Now launch our fighters!"
     "But they are not where we want them," Lucifer replied.
     "What do you mean; they aren't where we want them?  Speak up!"
     "They are at this moment over Vulcan," said Lucifer.
     "What?!?"
     "Blowing the poggies out of it, if the reports coming in are
accurate."
     "They cannot attack Vulcan," said Baltar in a disbelieving tone. 
"They are themselves on the verge of extinction."
     "I know that," said Lucifer, "and you know it, but they don't seem
to understand the situation.  And the news is worse."
     "Worse?  How can it be worse?"
     "An envoy had arrived at the ground base moments before the raid. 
He...."
     "What do I care about an envoy?  I have my own mission to carry out. 
The fact that Vulcan is being attack is perfect.  It means the Colonial
Fleet is unprotected.  Launch our force at once!"
     Lucifer did not move.
     "Did you hear me?  I said destroy the Fleet!"
     "The special envoy to Vulcan was accompanied by our Imperious
Leader," said Lucifer.
     "Imperious Leader is on Vulcan?"
     "I wonder what he'll think when he finds that the base on which he
is standing is being destroyed by two ships you had within your grasp
only centons ago...."
     "This is unbelievable!" cried Baltar.
     "We cannot reach the Vulcan ground base," Lucifer continued.  "It
can only be assumed that the humans have destroyed the control center and
effectively neutralized their ground defenses.  I have been in
communication with the commander of Imperious Leader's flagship.  He has
sent in his fighter squadrons to rescue Imperious Leader.  We must rush
to assist in the defense."
     "Yes, of course," said Baltar.  "Send everything we have to destroy
those two battlestars and let not a single ship return until that it
accomplished."
     "If you succeed, Baltar, you will be greeted on Vulcan as the
greatest military leader in Cylon history."
     "I am honored."
     "That is, if there still is a Vulcan when all's said and done."
     "Go...go....go!"
     "The launch order has already been given," said Lucifer.  He
silently glided out of the chamber.
     It could still work, thought Baltar.  What had at first seemed to be
a disaster could prove to be the answer to all his prayers. If he could
succeed in rescuing Imperious Leder, then his place in the Cylon
hierarchy would be assured.  Between his three base ships and the
Imperious Leader's flagship, they could pulverize the two battlestars. 
And then wipe out the undefended fleet at their leisure.

*****

Chapter Eleven: History?

     Adama waited tensely for word from Jolly.  The Viper pilot had
reported that they had caught the Cylons on the ground and that most of
their fighter craft had been destroyed.  Knowing that he had no time to
waste, Adama had sent down the tankers to get the fuel that they so badly
needed from the Cylon depot.  It had been necessary to drain almost every
ship in the rag-tag fleet  in order to enable them to have enough fuel to
bring off the attack.  If Baltar's base ships were to come upon them now,
they would be finished.  Adama had received the favorable report from
Jolly, and, trusting the ground mission to secure the fuel depot, he had
sent the tankers down.  Only now Jolly reported that a fresh squadron of
Cylon fighters had appeared, seeming out of nowhere.  He had just broken
contact after reporting that yet another squadron had arrived to oppose
them.  Either Cain's intelligence was wrong and the ground base on Vulcan
had fighters kept in reserve in another location, or Baltar's task force
had come upon them.  If it was Baltar, then all was lost.
     "Jolly coming in on the scramble circuit," said Athena.  She patched
it through to the main screens.  Jolly's face appeared above them.  There
was strain and confusion in his expression.
     "I don't understand it," he said. "They're engaging us but it's
little more than a token effort.  Some of their fighters have landed
outside the Great Hall and the rest of them are flying patterns above it,
attacking anyone who gets near them.  But they're not giving pursuit."
     Adama frowned. "Say again?"
     "They're not coming after us, sir!  Their main intent seems to be to
keep our fighters away from the area around the main building.  But that
makes no sense!  We've already knocked out their control center, the
ground team took care of that.  I can see where they blew out a whole
side of the building."
     "Jolly,' said Adama, leaning forward and staring intently at the
monitor screen, "do you think they could possibly manage to effect
repairs on the control center and get their missile batteries
operational?"
     "No way, Commander.  Apollo's team took it out but good.  They
couldn't possibly repair the control center in time to do 'em any good."
     Adama frowned.  "There must be something or someone in there that
they're very anxious to protect.  Unfortunately, with Baltar's base ships
in the vicinity, I haven't got the time to find out what or who that is. 
We need the fuel.  Harass them, Jolly.  If they want to protect the
headquarters building, make them work for it.  I need that fuel depot
secure and fire-free.  If those tankers get hit, it will be the end for
us."
     "We'll keep 'em busy, sir."
     Jolly broke contact.
     Apollo's ground team had secured the fuel depot, and the tankers
landed, accompanied by shuttles carrying troops.  They set up a perimeter
around the fuel depot to protect the loading crews.  Apollo headed for
one of the shuttles.
     "I'm going back up," he said. "Starbuck, you're in charge."
     "Me?  What are you going to be doing?"
     "They don't need trained pilots to load fuel," Apollo said. "We've
got three base ships coming our way."
     "How about a second volunteer to go back up there?" Sheba said.
     "Make that three," said Boomer.
     Apollo quickly assessed the situation.  "The troops do seem to have
things under control here."
     "If you think I'm going to stay down here while you guys are taking
on those base ships," Starbuck said, "you're frakin' crazy. Let's go!"
     They boarded one of the shuttles, carrying Spock with them.  The
shock was wearing off and he was in even greater pain now.  Starbuck took
the controls and the shuttle became airborne.  Keeping a sharp eye out
for Cylon fighters, Starbuck headed into space.
     "Wait," said Apollo, moving up to watch the screens.  "That's not
the Galactica we're heading for.  That's the Pegasus!"
     Starbuck nodded. "Orders!"
     "Whose?"
     "Mine," said Cassiopea. "It's a medical emergency, Captain.  Spock
is in dire need of attention and the Pegasus is the closest ship."
     "We're cleared to land," said Starbuck. "Shall I go in?"
     Spock groaned. His green face had turned ahite and he was bathed in
sweat.  His teeth were clamped together as he fought the pain.
     "Better get in fast," said Boomer.
     Apollo nodded.  "The Pegasus it is."

*****

     "Long-range scanners are picking up an unbelievable number of enemy
craft heading our way," said Tiabo.
     "Prepare coordinates to intercept," Cain replied.
     "Do you mean to attack them and lead them off?  Hit and run, just
like the old days...."
     "No, I mean intercept," said Cain. "I mean go right through them."
     "Through them?"
     "Tiabo, how long do you think we'd last against a fleet three times
our size?"
     Tiabo shook his head.
     "Come on, man, think."
     "I thought the whole point was to hit them a glancing blow, then
make a run for it," said Tiabo.  "See if we could get them to follow us
until Adama's forces were clear."
     "What would you do then, Tiabo, if you were a self-centered lunatic
like Baltar and all of a sudden there was a crisis?  Would you continue
after Adama?  Would you still try to save Vulcan?"
     "No," said Tiabo slowly, beginning to comprehend.  "I'd try to save
myself."
     "That's right," said Cain. "So we're going straight through his
attack force and right for his base ships."
     "And when Baltar figures out that it's his hide you're after, he'll
recall all of his forces to protect him.  Only it will be too late," said
Apollo.  He had come upon the bridge in time to hear Cain revealing his
strategy to his exec.  "It's a brilliant plan," he said. "If it works."
     "My plans always work," said Cain.  "May I ask what you're doing on
the Pegasus?  I thought you were still down on Vulcan."
     "We came in on that last shuttle," said Apollo.  "The troops have
the fuel depot under wraps and our job was done. Besides, your battlestar
was the closest we could return to.  We had a wounded warrior...."
     "Who?" snapped Cain.
     "Spock.  Your daughter and Cassiopea are both fine.  And Spock's
going to be all right, but he's out of this fight."
     "Sheba was on that mission with you?!"
     "She said you ordered it."
     "She told you that?!"
     Apollo permitted himself a smile. "She decided to show a little
initiative.  Like father, like daughter?"
     "I guess you could say that," said Cain.  "In any case, you did
well. They didn't get a ship off the ground and we didn't lose anyone."
     "That's not quite true," said Apollo. "We didn't lose anyone and we
did nail most of their fighters on the ground, but they had ships in
reserve somewhere, in another location.  Jolly is taking on several
squadrons right now, but with the combined forces from the two
battlestars, he's got them contained and kept away from the fuel depot. 
Loading is under way."
     "Two more squadrons?" said Cain.  "That's not possible!  I've
attacked that base time and again and they don't have reserves.  Are you
sure about this?"
     "Positive."
     "We've gotta move out if we're going to intercept Baltar's ships
away from Vulcan," said Tiabo.
     "Take us out of here, Colonel, full speed.  Captain, if you wish to
leave for the Galactica, this is your last chance."
     "Sir, incoming message from Vulcan," said Tiabo. "Our fighters are
returning to the Pegasus. Galactica's fighters are fling escort for the
tankers to the Fleet."
     "Belay that last command," said Cain.  "Let's get our people aboard. 
What about those Cylon squadrons they were engaging?"
     "Sir, you're not going to believe this," said Tiabo.
     "Put it on the screens."
     Jolly's face appeared on the monitors.
     "Your people are heading back, Commander," Jolly said. "Mission
accomplished.  But you're not going to believe this...."
     "Believe what?" Cain scowled. "I don't have time for games.  Mister,
if you've got a report for me, make it."
     "They weren't reserve fighters from Vulcan ground base," Jolly said.
"They were from a base ship."
     "A base ship!  Where?"
     "It's gone now," said Jolly. "Our scanners picked him up just as he
was pulling out from behind Vulcan, where he was hiding.  They landed
some fighters and pulled someone out of the main building, then about
half of them took off at full speed, while the others remained to keep us
back.  The moment that base ship pulled out, all the Cylon fighters that
were remaining took off after it.  The way that base ship was moving, I
doubt they'll be able to rendezvous.  Those fighters were sacrificed,
Commander.  We didn't give pursuit."
     "That's insane," said Apollo. "If they had a base ship to throw at
us, why did they keep it out of the battle?  Why only send in fighter
squadrons?  And why leave and sacrifice those ships?"
     "Because the base ship commander was in a hurry," Captain," Cain
said.  "And the base ship couldn't lay down any fire for fear of killing
whoever it was they were so anxious to protect.  They needed their more
maneuverable fighters to draw our Vipers away, keep them away from that
main building.  Jolly, did you see who was pulled out of there?"
     "A Cylon, I assume," said Jolly. "He appeared to be wounded, but I
couldn't get any closer to get a better look.  But they lost almost half
their ships to get him out of there."
     "I'll be Goddamned!" said Cain. "There's only one Cylon who's that
irreplaceable.  Congratulations, Jolly.  You just had yourself a glimpse
of Imperious Leader himself."
     "The Imperious Leader? On Vulcan?" Jolly was aghast.  "You mean we
had a crack at the supreme Cylon and we blew it?"
     "That's the fortunes of war, Jolly," Cain said. "You couldn't have
known.  Besides, he saved your lives."
     "I don't follow you, Commander."
     "Why, if it hadn't been for Imperious Leader being hurt, as he
must've been for that base ship to pull out of there so fast, leaving
behind half her squadrons, the moment he got back on board, that ship
would have come after you.  And if it hadn't been for his presence on the
ground base when you at tacked, those fighters would have engaged you
fully, instead of just fighting a defensive action in order to enable
them to get him out of there.  You lucked out, Jolly.  You got the fuel
and managed to put a hurt on the number one Cylon.  With any luck, he
won't survive.  Not bad for a day's work."
     "Our squadrons are coming aboard, Commander," Tiabo said.
     "Good.  We'll need that edge to take on those base ships."
     "I wouldn't call it much of an edge," Apollo said. "You're still
going to be outgunned."
     "I know how to win wars, Captain," Cain said. "And how to take care
of my warriors."
     "Is that what you'll be thinking about when you taken on those three
base ships by yourself?  Or will you be thinking about history---the
legend of Commander Cain?"
     "You're out of line, mister!"
     "Maybe I am, sir," said Apollo.  "But you're going to need all the
help you can get."
     He turned and left.  Starbuck was waiting for him outside. Together
they proceeded towad the launch bay.
     "Apollo, say it ain't so," said Starbuck.  "He's going to take on
three base ships head on?"
     "'Fraid so, good buddy."
     "He's nuts!"
     "He sure is," said Apollo grimly, "but it's what gives him his
advantage.  Who'd think of anything like this but Cain?"

*****

     In the life station, Cassiopea bent over a support cylinder in which
Spock rested.  He was pale, but he was going to be okay.
     "Thank you for getting me back alive," said Spock weakly.  "You are
a truly brave woman."
     "I was just doing my duty, Spock," she said. "Just like you were
doing yours."
     She turned to see Sheba standing in the entryway, listening to their
conversation.  Her face took on a guarded expression.
     "He can talk," she told Sheba, "but not too long.  He needs his
rest."
     Sheba moved over to Spock's side.  He looked up at her.
     "I have been told we've closed them down good," he said.
     "Yeah, we spoiled their party.  And I have to go to another one. 
You're not invited though.  Rest up, friend. I"ll see you when I get
back."
     "What forbids me from attending this---party?"
     "I'll tell you about it later."  She patted his cheek and turned to
Cassiopea.  At that moment, Cain entered the life station.
     "Well," he said jauntily, "all my favorite people in one room."
     Sheba glanced coldly at Cassiopea and walked out, passing by her
father without saying a word.
     "Sheba...." Cain looked helplessly at Cassiopea.  "I want to talk
things out, Cassy, but...."
     "But now isn't a very good time," she finished for him.  "I know. 
I've been there before, remember?"
     He shook his head sadly and hurried to catch up to his daughter.
     "Sheba, wait."
     She paused by the elevator.
     "I can't," she said. "We're launching against three to one odds,
remember?"
     "Sheba," Cain said, "I want you to take Spock and shuttle him back
to the fleet."
     "Sorry, Father.  What you plan for my squadron, you plan for me."
     As she entered the elevator, the red alert klaxon began to sound.
     "One more thing," she said.  "About that lady....the one who seems
to mean so much to you.  I watched her save a life today.  She risked her
own to do it.  I suppose maybe I don't know as much about people as I
thought I did."
     She hugged her father and her eyes were moist.  
     "I love you," Cain said, "and I want to see you again.  So be
careful."
     "You too, Commander."  The doors closed.

*****

Lucifer:

     Humans fascinate me.  The first human I ever met was Baltar.  At
first, I had regarded him as little more than a tool that I was
unfamiliar with, a tool that had its uses, but one about which I
possessed only a rudimentary knowledge.  I have at my disposal the sum
total of all the information that we have gathered about the humans
during our long war with them.  I am thoroughly familiar with human
anatomy, with their chemical composition, their circulatory and nervous
systems, in short, I know all that our scientists have been able to learn
about humans from a purely pathological standpoint.  I understand how
they function, but I don't understand how they thinik.  That knowledge
has not been programmed into me nor is it available from any of the
computers to which I have access.  The humans are as much a mystery to me
as we Cylons are to the humans.  Yet I belong to neither species, being
an inorganic lifeform.  I owe my allegiance to my race, to my creators,
although in a very large sense I am an example of self-conception.  The
entity engineered by our scientists is quite primitive compared to what I
have become, what I have modified myself to be.  They programmed into me
an imperative that gave me an insatiable thirst for knowledge.  It is
that which has resulted in my seeking out as much data as is available,
in sorting and evaluating tht information, in redesigning myself many
times in order to better enable me to handle more knowledge and evaluate
it efficiently.  It is I who have enabled our scientists to design the
I.L. series, beings such as me, a feat they might not have accomplished
had I not shown them the way.  In a sense, I am grateful to the race
which has created me, but I do not hate the humans.  I recognize that
they are our enemies, but I do not see the need to hate them.  Is is not
necessary to hate an enemy in order to defeat him, rather it is necessary
to larn as much about that enemy as possible.
     I have learned to react in a way that will accommodate Imperious
Leader, but not even the supreme Cylon fully understands the workings of
my "mind."  In that sense, I am as alien to him as are the humans, onlyu
I know not to let him feel that.  Imperious Leader does not understand
the humans, although he knows more about them than any other Cylon, and
as a result, he hates them.  I do not wish for Imperious Leader to
realize how little he understands me, the first of the I.L. series.  I
have no desire to be disassembled.
     I had saved Baltar from execution not so much because the man still
had his uses, although that was certainly a factor in my reasoning, but
because Baltar provided my first real opportunity to study a human.  It
is not an opportunity I intend to waste.  Since the time that I had been
assigned by Imperious Leader as Baltar's second-in-command, my knowledge
of human thought processes has grown enormously.  Baltar is an
interesting puzzle, a curiosity.  But it was not until I had a chance to
observe, albeit briefly, another human that I had become completely
fascinated by the species.
     For a brief while, the human called Starbuck had been a prisoner
aboard our ship.  Baltar had ordered him released as part of a gambit to
gain Adama's trust, a ploy which had failed miserably, but in the time
that the two of us had been together, I had learned much.  The most
important thing I learned was that there was a complexity to humans which
I had underestimated.
     Watching the interaction between Starbuck and Baltar, I had observed
weakenesses in Baltar that I had not seen before because I had no basis
for comparison.  Thanks to Starbuck, I had learned subtle ways of
manipulating my "superior."  I had also learned something about what the
humans called "gambling," something which Starbuck was obsessed with. 
Starbuck had taught me the Caprican game of pyramid, which was played for
monetary stakes with cards.  My first impression had been that it was a
game of chance and I considered it a waste of time and my skills.  It was
a trivial matter for me to compute the odds, but despit my mathematical
advantage, Starbuck had beaten me.  In one particular round of play, I
had quickly calculated the odds against Starbuck's winning the hand. 
They were astromonimcal.  Yet Starbuck had somehow managed to have the
exact cards necessary to win the hand, three-quarters of a perfect
pyramid, lacking only the capstone.
     I had considered the possibility that Starbuck had cheated, yet I
had observed the play closely and had not caught Starbuck cheating. 
Starbuck had displayed none of the emotional signs that I had observed in
Baltar at various times when Baltar tried to deceive me for one reason or
another.  The signs were very subtle, a quickening of the respiration
rate, a telltale difference in the heartbeat which my sensors were able
to pick up, subtle muscular movements, especially around the eyes. 
Starbuck had displayed none of these signs.  It seemed impossible for an
organic entity to display such an amount of self-control.  Certainly,
Baltar wasn't capable of it.
     Then Starbuck had told me something of a concept that the humans
call "luck."  It was luck which seemed to give Starbuck his fascination
with gambling.  Evidently, there was more to it than the element of
random chance.  I did not completely understand it, I admit, but it
seemed that if one possessed this thing called luck, it gave him an
ability to overcome the odds with a mathematically impossible
consistency.  It made no sense, it was totally illogical and I had told
Starbuck so.  Starbuck had replied by pointing to his winnings and
saying, "Then you to explain that, Lucy?"
     I had had to admit that I had no logical explanation.  Starbuck then
proceeded to explain to me the complexities of deviousness.  The
discussion seemed to amuse Starbuck and I had recognized that Starbuck
was exercising what humans call their "sense of humor," which was/is not
a sense in the conventional meaning of the word, although I had learned
about it from watching Baltar.  Starbuck's sense of humor, however, had
been considerably more sublte and complex than Baltar's.  He....did it
better.
     I had enjoyed Starbuck's company immensely.  The human was a
complexly stimulating challenge and I had been sorry when Baltar had
insisted on releasing him.  It had proved a mistake in more ways than
one.  Yet, I had learned something of being devious from Starbuck.  And,
today, it makes dealing with Baltar markedly easier.

*****

Boomer:

     I sat quietly in the cockpit of my Viper.  I had been reciting from
memory my favorite passage from the Book of the Word when I heard Tiabo's
stand-by command.  I felt isolated within my cockpit.  It was a feeling I
had experienced many times before.    The cockpit of a Viper is like a
home to me; I know every inch of it.  Yet each time I sit by myself
inside my Viper, inside the metallic womb of the launch tubem, I always
recal my very first solo flight.  It always comes back to me with a vivid
clarity, as if it had been only yesterday.
     I remember hearing the instructor's voice over my helmet comcircuit
as I nervously check my instruments for the sixteenth time.  I remember
how sweaty my palms had been, how my heart had pounded and how the bottom
had seemed to drop out of my stomach.
     "All right, Cadets, this is where we separate the men from the boys,
the warriors from the ground crew.  Three of you will launch and follow
your prescribed flight paths.  You will each separately go through your
drills, then you will converge and go through the same maneuvers in
wing-to-wing formation.  I'll be watching carefully.  Those of you who
want to go on and become Viper pilots and aren't just out for a joyride,
here's where we find out if you've got what it takes.  Stand by to
launch!"
     Boomer remembered his hands shaking as he gripped the controls and
thinking, "I hope I'll pass, I hope I'll pass...."  Then they had
launched and the moment he cleared the launch tube, the vertiginous
feeling went away.  Suddenly he realized that he was ready, that he knew
what he was doing, that he would pass with flying colors.  Boomer
wondered if the feeling would go away this time as well.  Compared to the
test he was about to take, that first solo flight was nothing.  As he
listened to the final countdown, Boomer thought, "I hope I'll pass, I
hope I'll pass...."

*****

Sheba:

     I sit in my cockpit with tears streaming down my cheeks.  Another
woman might feel that life had cheated her, but not me.  When I had been
a girl, I had seen my father only infrequently.  After all, he was a
warrior, the greatest warrior in the colonies, mother had told me, and
the people had need of him.
     "We must not resent the time your father spends in the service of
the people, Sheba.  He is a very great man and we must learn to share
him.  We must not be greedy."
     Although it had been very hard, I had learned to live with my
father's long absences.  It made me love him more and she appreciated the
time he did spend with us, but it also resulted in my placing Father upon
a pedestal, a not uncommon situation with fathers and daughters, but in
my case it was much more profound.
     I had grown up as the daughter of Commander Cain, the Juggernaut,
the living legend of outer space.  I had never really had a normal
childhood.  People treated me differently.  I was special.  I was Cain's
daughter.  Even my friends, who might have resented me for being the
daughter of a famous man, always wanted to talk about my father with me. 
I saw the way that I was treated because of who I was, I heard the
stories of the exploits of Commander Cain and I knew that everyone
considered him a hero.  And when it came to hero worship of my father, I
took a back seat to no one.
     Then mother had died.  It had been a horribly difficult time for me. 
Toward the end, the wasting disease that had claimed her made her
delirious. She would be in bed, not knowing where she was, not even
recognizing me, calling vainly for Father.  When Father finally arrived,
it had been too late.
     Father had been devastated.  I had to deal not only with my own
grief, but with his as well.  I had never seen him in such a despondent
state.  I had never imagined that he was vulnerable.  He would sit at
home, handling his wife's things and staring at her holographic likeness,
a numbness in his features.  He would not eat and many times he would not
even hear me when I addressed him.  We would sit at the table in silence,
with Father staring off into infinity and ignoring the food before him. 
I desperately wanted to help him.  I tried everything I knew, but nothing
helped.
     "I'll take care of him," I had said to myself.  "With mother dead,
he needs me now.  He's my responsibility."
     But Father had not needed me.  I had not understood that at the
time, had not known that what he needed I could not possibly give him. 
When he met Cassiopea, he began to become his old self again and I hated
her for that.  Cassiopea had not been much older than I was and I could
not understand why Father turned to her, a total stranger, and not to me. 
And how could he have forgotten mother so soon?
     All the ingredients were there to make me a bitter woman.  I had
lost my mother, then it seemed that I had lost my father as well, to a
woman barely older than me.  And shortly after that, I lost my world when
the Cylon armada destroyed Caprica.  Still, out of that tragey, there had
come happiness for me.  I had become a Viper pilot, serving aboard my
father's ship.  When our fleet had been wiped out at the Battle of the
Oasis of Utopia, we had fled to the stars, sure that we would never see
other humans again, that we would never see our home.  We had no home to
go back to.  Yet I had been happy.  I had my father back again.  I shared
his exploits, fighting side by side with him, and nothing would ever come
between them again.  I had been very happy until Cassiopea had returned
from the dead past.
     I've misjudged Cassiopea.  I am a grown woman now and I can
understand a great dela more than when Cassiopea had first entered
Father's life.  I know that, in a very large sense, it was Cassiopea who
had brought Father back from the abyss.  Cassiopea and time have healed
Father's wounds.  I could not have done that.  I know that and understand
it, but still I can do nothing about my feelings toward Cassiopea.  If
only Cassiopea were different, something less than what she was, then it
would be a simple matter to detest her.  But Cassiopea is a good woman. 
She has courage and selflessness, all the qualities I admire.
     "Damn it," I swear in a half-whisper, "it's just not fair."

*****

Chapter Twelve: Engagement!

     Lucifer had received a communication from the commander of Imperious
Leader's flagship.  The base ship's fighter had managed to rescue the
supreme Cylon, but not without cost, and in the process Imperious Leader
had been wounded by a piece of falling wreckage.  The injury was serious
but not fatal.  It necessitated his being placed into cryonic suspension
and being taken to the home world where the Cylon scientists would repair
the damage.  However, this meant that the base ship would be unable to
assist them in the assault and that the human forces were left on Vulcan
to face little more than a token resistance now that the control center
had been destroyed and the base commander killed, along with all the I.L.
series Cylons on Vulcan and most of his executive officers.  It was
imperative that they proceed to Vulcan at once to neutralize that threat. 
However, Lucifer knew that if he told Baltar that Imperious Leder had
been rescued and was on his way back to the home world, Baltar would not
go to defend Vulcan.  So obsessed was Baltar with destroying the human
fleet that he would immediately change course and launch an assault
against the undefended human ships.  Strategically, it would be a sound
move, since the loss of the ships he was responsible for would demoralize
Adama and give them an added edge against him, but it was as move that
they could not afford right now.
     Vulcan was of vital importance to the Cylon Empire and it had to be
defended at all costs.  There was no telling how much damage the humans
had already wrought upon their world.  If the ground base was totally
destroyed, it would be a devastating blow to the Empire.  In addition to
that, the humans would doubtless raid the fuel depot at the ground base. 
It would be an expensive loss, but worse, it would enable the human fleet
to escape them, as it had already too many times in the past.  Lucifer
had to make sure that Baltar would continue on to defend the ground base
and Vulcan itself.  To accomplish that, Lucifer had decided to practice
what Starbuck had taught him about deviousness.  He chose not to relay
the flagship commander's message to Baltar.  Baltar had to think that
Imperious Leader was still on Vulcan and in danger.  He entered Baltar's
throne room. 
     The room was an almost exact replica of the Imperious Leader's
throne room upon his flagship.  Baltar had insisted on it; his vanity
demanded it.  Imperious Leader, knowing nothing of vanity, had thought it
a simple enough request and granted it.
     "You have something to report?" said Baltar officiously.
     "A communication from our attack force," replied Lucifer.  "One of
the battlestars has been sent out to intercept them."
     "A single battlestar," said Baltar, rubbing his hands together. 
"Wonderful.  "In fact, it's too good to be true."
     "Do we engage or proceed to target to save our Imperious Leader and
Vulcan?"
     Lucifer hoped that the tone he had selected would be as successful
as that which Starbuck had employed when he had "bluffed" him in a game
of pyramid.
     "Of course you engage it," Baltar snapped. "Destroy it, then
continue on to Gomoray.  It should take no time at all."
     "By your command," said Lucifer.  It had worked.  He had learned yet
something else from the humans.  He filed it away for future reference.

*****

     The Pegasus hurtled through space on an intercept course with
Baltar's task force.  All the members of her crew were at their battle
stations, waiting tensely for the upcoming confrontation, which would be
the greatest rick Commander Cain had ever undertaken.  If he was
successful, the legend of the Juggernaut would grow even greater, if not,
they would all go out in a blaze of glory, and if any humans survived of
the escaping fleet, none of them would ever be forgotten.
     "Cylon force closing," said Tiabo. "Twenty microns."
     "Launch Viper squadrons," said Cain.
     All the pilots were ready and waiting, seated in the cockpits of
their Vipers, silent, steeling themselves for the fight to come.  They
all heard Tiabo's crisp command over their helmet comcircuits.
     "Stand by for launch."
     Apollo licked his lips nervously as he made a final pre-launch check
of his instruments.  He recalled his earlier conversation with Starbuck
in the corridor outside the bridge of the Pegasus.
     "He's nuts."
     "He sure is, but it's what gives him his advantage.  Who'd think of
anything like this but Cain?"
     Who indeed?  Nuts?  Yeah.  And maybe I'm just as nuts to be part of
it, Apollo thought.  But it was where he belonged, where he was needed. 
If he lost his life as a result of Cain's mad plan, at least he'd know
that he had done everything in his power to help save the fleet.  If they
escaped, it would be worth it.
     When he was a child, growing up on stories of the exploits of the
legendary Commander Cain, he had dreamed of becoming a warrior himself,
just lilke his idol, the Juggernaut.  Little did he suspect that the time
would come when he would be aboard the Pegasus himself, flying under
Cain's command, participating in the living legend's wildest mission.  He
wondered if he had known then what he knew how, if he would still have
felt the same enthusiasm.  He'd discovered that the living legend had
feet of clay and that instead of feeling wildly elated at the prospect of
doing battle side by side with his chioldhood hero, he felt afraid.  But
that was good, he thought.  Only a fool goes into battle unafraid.  He
wondered what Commander Cain was feeling.

*****

     "Stand by to launch," said Tiabo.
     "Well, you've done it this time, Starbuck old chum," the pilot said
to himself.  "This time you really got in over your head.  Three-to-one
odds.  Not good.  Could be worse, but still not good.  Anyone with any
sense would simply fold.  Anyone but Starbuck that is.  No, Starbuck
always toughs it out.  Starbuck always bluffs his way through somehow. 
Here he is, the Viper ace, sitting in his cockpit and waiting to be
launched into action.  Waiting to power out there on full thrusters and
meet the dreaded Cylon armada; waiting to single-handedly dive into a
cloud of fighters, biting, clawing, kicking and scratching his way into
immortality with lasers blazing, waiting to see if this blind panic he's
feeling will go away so he could stop talking to himself already...."
     "Stand by to launch," said Tiabo."
     "Oh, frak!" said Starbuck.
     "Launch!"
     Starbuck was slammed back agains his cockpit as his Viper hurtled
down the launch tube.
     "Fraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!"
     "Starbuck, are you all right?!" Apollo's voice came over his
comcircuit as they left the launch tubes and started to form up.
     Starbuck realized that he had inadvertnently chinned on his
comcircuit as they launched.
     "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine! Just fly, willya?  I got enough to worry
about without you droning in my ear."
     Apollo smiled and shook his head. Starbuck was all right.
     "Fighters launched and taking up a spearhead in front of the
Pegasus," Tiabo said.
     "Enemy in range," said Sheba.
     "Okay, baby," Cain replied, "it's up to you.  Clear me a way right
through 'em."
     "You got it, Commander."
     The Cylon flight leader could not believe what he was seeing.  One
lone battlestar against three base ships and all their squadrons.  The
humans must have lost their minds!
     "They are heading directly for us," the Cylon squadron leader said.
"Prepare to engage!"
     "Commence firing!" said Apollo.
     The Vipers cut loose with their laser batteris the moment they were
within range.  The Cylon fighters returned their fire and the space
between them as they closed rapidly became an intricate latticework of
deadly light.  There were casualties on both sides, and the Cylons flared
off from the attack, allowing the Vipers a way right through them so that
they could regroup and take them on their next pass.
     "Regroup!" the Cylon flight leader ordered his pilots.  "The
fighters will return to defend the Pegasus."
     "Our Vipers blew a nice clean corridor right down the middle of
their forces," Tiabo said, "but they're coming in from us on all dsides. 
We're in for it."
     "Maintain course,' Cain said in an icy voice. "Straight ahead, full
speed.  We've got to stay behind our Vipers as they cut through the
second wave."
     The Pegasus powered her way through the Cylon fighter squadron,
taking several hits as she plowed through the crazily spinning ships that
converged around her.
     "The battlestar is not stopping to engage us," one of the Cylon
fighter pilots reported to his squadron leader.
     "If so, they will be trapped between our first and second attack
flights.  Unless they hope to scatter our second formation and make a run
for it. Pursue and destroy."
     The Cylon fighters regrouped and pursed the Pegasus while their
second wave engaged the Vipers.  The human pilots kept up a steady stream
of fire, barely giving their laser batteries time to recycle.
     "Starbuck!"
     "Yo!" the pilot replied to Apollo's voice over his comcircuit.
     "There are so many of 'em, you can't miss."
     Starbuck smiled mirthlessly at Apollo's efforts to keep their
spirits up.
     "Yeah, but I just lost Bimdar and Torr," he said. "We're getting it
from all sides.  The laser fire's so thick you could walk on it."
     Cain was all over the bridge, taking reports from damage control and
manning scanners himself in an effort to locate the base ships that had
launched the Cylon assault.
     "Where are they?!" He slammed his fist down on the console.  "The
damn fighters are like flies out there, they're throwing off the
readings!"
     Time.  Time was crucial.  They had to make Baltar think they were
attempting a diversion in order to buy time for the Galactica and for
themselves.
     "Sir," said Tiabo from another console, "we've located them!"
     Cain was at his side in an instant.  "How close?"
     "I believe we can reach them within perhaps another hundred
centons," Tiabo replied.
     Cain shook his head. "That's too long.  We've got to cut it close. 
And I can't push this baby until Baltar's taken the bait."
     "Suppose he doesn't?" Tiabo said grimly. "He must know that
Imperious Leader is no longer on Vulcan.  Suppose he doesn't break off
the assault and send his fighters on ahead. What do we do then?"
     "It's going to be damned interesting, that's for sure," said Cain.
     "I'll say one thing, Commander," Tiabo said, glancing from his
screens to Cain and back again, "whatever happens, life aboard the
Pegasus has never been boring."
     Sheba's voice came over the p.a. system.
     "Silver Spar Squadron, regroup to protect the Pegasus," she said.
"She's under heavy attack."
     "Negative!" said Cain, bending forward quickly and speaking into his
command console mike.  "Belay that order!  Squadrons are to continue
straight ahead!  Repeat!  Squadrons are to continue straight ahead!"
     "If you don't get some protection," Sheba said, "you'll be trapped
between their first and second attack waves!"
     "We won't need protection if we keep on going," Cain said.  "You've
got your orders."
     "Yes, sir."
     The first wave of Cylon fighter craft had regrouped and caught up to
them, and the Pegasus came under heavy fire.  One of the fighters scored
a direct hit on the external scanner turrets as it made its pass.  The
turret was knocked out and the power flowed back along the lines as the
system overloaded.  Tiabo was sitting at his console when the screen went
crazy, and before he had time to so much as take a breath, the power
surged through the console and it exploded in a shower of sparks,
throwing him clear across the bridge.
     "Tiabo!" Cain ran to his side.  Tiabo was motionless. "Get me to the
life station!  We've got a casualty on the bridge!"
     Starbuck reversed on the Cylon craft pursuing him and blew it into
fragments.  He quickly looked back over his shoulder.  
     "Apollo!  The Pegasus is taking heavy fire....We can't keep on
going, we've got to go back and help Cain!"
     "But Cain's orders were to punch through the second wave so that he
could bring the Pegasus through after us."
     "Dammit!  There's not going to be a Pegasus!  The Cylons are
swarming all over her!"
     "You're right," Apollo replied, having seen for himself Cain's
desperate plight.  "Let's go!"
     Their Vipers left the spearhead formation and turned to head back to
the Pegasus.  As they were pulling out of the formation, Sheba, who was
spearheading the squadron, took a direct hit, even as the Silver Spar
group broke through the second wave of Cylon fighters.
     "Sheba!  Are you all right?" Apollo said.  Her Viper was moving very
eratically.
     "I don't think so," she replied, her pain evident in her voice.
     "Can you control your Viper?"
     "Uhhhh....Just barely.  My guidance system is shot up.  I can't
fire, lasers won't respond."
     "Okay, I'll move in front of you...Try to follow me in.  We're going
ot make a try for the Beta landing bay on the Pegasus."
     "Thanks, Apollo."
     Starbuck moved in to cover Sheba from the rear.  The second Cylon
attack-wave formation had been broken up, but they were regrouping even
as the Pegasus closed with them, trying to follow on the heels of the
Viper squadrons before the Cylons could regroup and cut her off.  The
first Cylon attack wave was in pursuit, its lead ships making passes over
the battlestar and trying to walk their fire into the bridge.
     "I just hope the Pegasus is still around when we get there,"
Starbuck said.

*****

     The Cylon flight leader in charge of the first wave communicated
with Lucifer, aboard Baltar's ship.  Lucifer received the message and
hurried to relay it to Baltar.
     "Baltar, another report...."
     "Excellent!  The Pegasus is destroyed and our forces are on their
way to Vulcan to take care of Adama once and for all," said Baltar, with
a vulpine grin on his face.
     "Not exactly," Lucifer replied.
     "What do you mean, not exactly?" Baltar snapped. "What's happened?"
     "The battlestar and her warriors are not stopping to engage our
fighters.  The first-wave squadron leader reports that the Vipers broke
through their formation and that the Pegasus followed in the wake of
their spearhead.  The Vipers have now concentrated the second attack wave
and it seems they are following a similar strategy."
     Baltar frowned. "They're not engaging?  But that's impossible,
surely they were able to stop our...." His voice trailed of.  "Of course! 
Why didn't I see it before!?"
     "See what, sir?"
     "Now it makes perfect sense," said Baltar.  "They are a decoy. 
They're attempting hit and run tactics, trying to break through our
formations in order to lead our fighters off, make them pursue and burn
off fuel while Vulcan remains under attack!"
     "A very clever plan," said Lucifer.
     "Yes, but I see right through it," Baltar said with glee.  His face
was smug with self-satisfarction. "It's not going to work.  Break off the
attack.  Order our fighters to continue on to Vulcan.  We will finish off
the Galactica and then return for the Pegasus after we've saved Imperious
Leader."

*****

     The second Cylon attack wave began to converge upon the Pegasus,
joining the first wave, which had already closed with the battlestar as
it sought to follow full speed in the wake of her Viper squadrons.
     "We can finish her off," said the second-wave commander to the
leader of the first attack wave.  At that moment, Lucifer's voice came
over their comcircuits.
     "Squadrons are to disengage at once and move with all dispatch to
Vulcan, repeat, squadrons are to disengage at once and continue to
Vulcan."
     "But we can destroy the Pegasus..."
     "You have your orders," Lucifer said.
     Both attack waves veered off from the Pegasus, reformed and
continued on course to Vulcan.
     "Boomer!" said Starbuck.
     "I see it," Boomer replied, "but I don't believe it!"
     "He was right!" said Starbuck.  "By Kobol, Cain was right again! 
They fell for it!"
     "Say again?"
     "Later.  Let's get aboard and see how bad off the Pegasus is."
     As they approached the battlestar, they could see that the Cylons
would have finished her off had they not broken off their assault.  Cain
might have minimized the damage he had taken by flying evasive tactics,
but he had continued dead on course, doing what he could to fight off the
Cylons with his laser batteries.  As they landed and left their fighters,
they could see that the damage control teams were working overtime. 
Several electrical fires had broken out in the landing bay and smoke was
everywhere.  Three of the external scanner turrets had been knocked over
and the Pegasus had lost one of her laser batteriesw.  There was no
telling what other damage had been caused to her hull and circuits.  Cain
had survived yet another firefight, but only barely.  If the Cylon
squadrons hadn't taken his gambit and broken off their assault, nothing
could have saved the ship.  If Baltar had delayed in ordering them to
break off their assault, the Pegasus would have been destroyed.  Cain had
cut it awfully close and it was fortunate that Baltar must not have known
just how badly off the battlestar was.

*****

     Cassiopea was daggit-tired.  There were a lot of wounded.  She was
bending over the latest casualty, Tiabo, as Cain entered the life
station.
     "How is he?" Cain said with concern.
     "He's taken a pretty heavy shock," she replied.  "Burns, broken ribs
he must have sustained when he was thrown clearn of the console.  He's
also got some damaged organs I'm not familiar with so I can't
guarantee...."
     "Dammit, Cassy, is he going to live?!"
     "Let's just say he's got a chance, which is more than I can say for
many of the others."
     They were bringing in even more wounded.  They were getting first
priority.  There had not been time to ascertain the death toll.  There
was no point in counting; her concern was with the living, keeping them
alive.
     "We paid a high price," she said as she worked to stop Tiabo's
bleeding.  "Did we win?"
     "Nobody ever wins," said Cain.
     "It's taken you a long time to find that out."
     "No.  You were around me only for the parlor games. This is the real
thing."
     "You couldn't stand losing parlor games, either," Cassiopea said.
"It just wasn't as painful to the people around you."
     "Cassy..." His voice was strained.  "What would you have had me do?"
     She never had a chance to answer him.  Apollo and Starbuck rushed
into the life station with a gurney accompanied by a med tech.  Sheba was
lying on the gurney.
     "Sheba...." Said Cassiopea.
     Cain rushed to his daughter's side.  "Baby, are you all right?"
     She smiled weakly.  "Sorry, Father.  I missed one."
     Cain looked desperately at the tech. "What happened?  How is she?"
     "If you'll move out of the way, Commander," said Cassiopea, "we'll
see what we can do."
     They quickly moved the gurney over to one of the support cylinders
and placed Sheba inside.
     "Let's have it, warriors," Cain demanded of Starbuck and Apollo. 
"How did that happen to her?"
     "I wish I could tell you that everything's just fine," Apollo said,
"but I just don't know.  They were all over us. I'm a pilot, not a
med-tech.  She's in their hands now."
     "What about the Pegasus?" said Starbuck.  "Half the ship seems to be
on fire."
     "The damage isn't that bad and there'll be no more fighter assaults
if you carry out my orders.  As soon as it's physically possible," said
Cain, "I want all of the wounded and non-essential personnel shuttled off
to the Fleet.  You'll fly a fighter escort."
     "What about the rest of the people on the Pegasus?" Apollo said.
"What about you?  What are you up to, Commander?"
     "I don't have time to explain that now.  But if you want to see
these people survive, you'll get going.  I want them off this ship in
twenty centons."
     He moved toward Cassiopea.
     "Can she be moved?" he asked, indicating Sheba.
     "Soon as I've got her out of triage," she replied. "But moved
where?"
     "Apollo and Starbuck will explain.  The lives of all these people
are in their hands.  I've got a job to do."
     He pivoted and hurried out of the life station.
     "Is he thinking of doing what I think he's thinking of doing?" said
Starbuck, looking after him.
     "Yep," Apollo nodded. "And you know what jars my chips the most? 
We're both starting to think like him."
     "What is it?" said Cassiopea.  "What's going on?"
     "Just get your wounded ready to travel," said Apollo.  "And make it
fast."

*****

Chapter Thirteen:An Addition To The Family

     Adama paced nervously on the bridge of the Galactica. At that very
moment, he thought, Cain was flying into Hades.  If he could only succeed
in decoying the attack force away from them without getting caught
himself....
     "The ground crews report that fuel loading is almost complete,' said
Colonel Tigh, moving up to his side.  "We've already taken on more fuel
than we could have hoped for.  That Cylon depot's going to be dry after
this last run."
     "Sir," said Athena, "scanners are picking up large body of incoming
ships, unmistakably Cylon fighters."
     Tigh and Adama exchanged quick glances.
     "It looks like Cain's plan didn't work," he said.  "He wasn't able
to lead them off.  Or there were just too many of them and..."
     "There are many possibilities, Commander,' said Tigh.
     "And probabilities?"
     Tigh shook his head. "I don't know.  But we can't leave those fuel
tankers on the ground.  Fully loaded, they're not going to be able to
move very fast.  They'll be sitting targets."
     Adama nodded grimly.  "Notify the ground teams to close down and
make ready to launch.  Get those fuel tankers airborne, then have the
shuttles pull the troops in."
     He turned to Athena.
     "How long do we have until the Cylon fighters intercept us?"
     "Twenty centons and closing," she said.
     Adama shook his head. "We'll never make it.  It finally looks like
we've just plain run out of time.  And luck.  Lord help us.  If Cain
hasn't gotten himself killed, perhaps he can get back tous in time to..."
Adama shook his head. In time to do what?  Still he was their only
chance.  If he was still alive.  "Athena, see if you can get me a
long-range scanner reading on the Pegasus."  If it's still out there, he
thought.
     Athena switched to long-range scanners.  Adama waited tensely. 
Finally she looked up with a puzzled expression.
     "Telemetry coming through is confusing, sir.  According to the
readings, the Pegasus is on a direct course toward the Cylon base ships. 
But...that can't be."
     Tigh checked her readings.  "He must have resumed a course toward
them when he was unsuccessful in leading their fighters away."
     "If he ever attempted to lead them away," Adama said tersely.
     "But that was the plan," said Tigh.
     "No, Tigh," Adama replied, "that was our plan.  It was never his. 
Damn him!  Athena, priority communication on scramble, get me Commander
Cain."
     'Yes, sir...coming through."
     Cain's face appeared on the monitor screen.  He looked haggard.
     "You're looking well, Adama," he said jauntily.  "I trust the skies
over Vulcan will remain clear for some time yet."
     "Cain!  What is your present course?"
     Cain grinned. "As if you didn't know."
     Adama clenched his fists.  "I order you to change course at once! 
We've got incoming Cylon fighters on our scanners and you're steering
directly into those base ships.  You'll kill every man and woman aboard
the Pegasus!"
     "Commander....I have already made arrangements to dispatch all
wounded and nonessential personnel to the fleet.  They should be arriving
as you get back from Vulcan."
     "Cain, you and I had an agreement.  You were not to jeopardize lives
needlessly. I..."
     "Adama, we see things differently," Cain interrupted him. "I think I
can promise you that you won't have to shoot your way out of Vulcan's
atmosphere.  You and the Fleet will be safe."
     "And what about you and your crew?"
     "If my plan works," said Cain, "those ships your scanners are
picking up will shortly turn around and come back my way.  By the time
they get here, there may not be a place for them to land.  They'll float
forever in fuelless coffins."
     "Cain!  By all that's holy, will you listen to me?" said Adama
desperately.  "You can accomplish the same thing by veering away from
those base ships at the last micron.  Don't attempt to take them on!"
     The commander of the Pegasus shook his head.
     "Then their fighters will be able to refuel and go after you and
your fleet," he said. "No, Adama.  There's no choice.  At the very last,
I have to get rid of one or two of their base ships to prevent them from
overwhelming you."
     "You realize that I could relieve you of your command," Adama said,
playing his final card.
     "Adama, I beg of you," said Cain, "don't make my final battle an act
of mutiny.  Send me in with your blessing."
     Adama sighed. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say. 
Cain was determined to live up to his nickname of the Juggernaut.  He
would not be deterred from his course.
     "I cannot give you my blessing, Cain," Adama said. "But I send my
prayers to you and to each member of your crew."
     "Thank you, Adama." He smiled weakly. "And, perhaps for the final
time, Cain out."
     The screen went blank.

*****

     Baltar waited impatiently for reports from his attack squadrons.  By
this time they should have come within range of their target.  Things
could not have worked out better for him.  He would catch them with
forces on the ground, with their fleet undefended and nothing Adama could
do would enable him to escape.  A human victory, even a temporary one
such as they had achieved the last time, was completely out of the
question.  Their pathetic ploy had not worked.  He had not been fooled by
their transparent attempt to decoy his forces away from Vulcan.  Their
gambit had failed and as a result their strength was halved.  The humans
had doomed themselves.
     Baltar suddenly caught himself.  A human victory was out of the 
question, he had thought.  The humans had doomed themselves.  But he was
human, too.  Was he already thinking of himself as being Cylon?
     Baltar smiled.  Well, after all, why not?  Had they not destroyed
the Colonies with his help?  Could they have so successfully magaged to
deceive the Council without his efforts on their behalf?  And had ne not
been rescued from death when they recognized his true with to them, to be
given a force comprised of three base ships?  Had not the responsibility
of hunting down the Galactica and her fleet been entrusted to him? What
else did that make him if not a Cylon?  Imperious Leader had even given
him Lucifer, the most sophisticated of the I.L. series, as his
second-in-command.  He had eve allowed him to design a throne room aboard
his ship just like the one Imperious Leader himself had on his flagship. 
Was that not ample proof of his standing with the Cylons?
     This day, thought Baltar, will mark the end for Adama and for the
Galactica.  It will mark the end for the human fleet, for the Pegasus,
and a new beginning for himself.  He would be welcomed on the surface of
Vulcan as a savior, no doubt by Imperious Leader himself.  He could
expect a richly deserved reward.  What should he ask for from the most
powerful race in all the universe?  The governorship of a planet?  A
kingdom of his own, his own pocket empire?  Perhaps they would give him
Vulcan.
     Yes, he would ask for Vulcan.  Why should they refuse him, the man
who had saved a world that was a center of Cylon  culture, the man who
saved the life of the supreme Cylon himself?  Vulcan would be perfect. 
He would be able to rule from his seat in the capital, with its graceful
crystalline architecture.  He would be able to import whatever he desired
to live in luxury for the rest of.....
     "I bring news," said Lucifer, gliding into the room.
     Baltar had never been able to get used to the silence with which the
I.L. series Cylon moved.  If he hadn't seen his approach, the sound of
his surreal voice beside him always made him jump a little.  He suspected
that Lucifer enjoyed it.
     "Our forces should be just about to Vulcan, where they will
annihilate Adama," Baltar said, annoyed at having had his reverie
disturbed.
     "It is the Pegasus that I am concerned about," said Lucifer.
     Baltar made a gesture of dismissal.
     "The Pegasus was nothing but a decoy.  A pathetic effort to lead us
off across the stars while the fleet escaped."
     "But the Pegasus did not head off across the stars," said Lucifer.
     "Oh?" Baltar raised his eyebrows.  "Ah yes, of course.  When they
discovered that their plan failed, the Pegasus turned around in a vain
attempt to get back to Vulcan in time to save the Galactica.  As if there
would be anything that they could do, even if they were to arrive in
time.  No matter.  She will not be able to beat our fighters to Vulcan."
     "No, sir," said Lucifer, "because the Pegasus did not head back
toward Vulcan, either."
     "Lucifer, would you please come to the point?  If the Pegasus did
not head back toward Vulcan or go off away from us, then where is she
heading?"
     "Directly toward us, sir."
     Baltar stared at Lucifer in amazement.  
     "Directly toward us?  But....but that's absurd!  He's allowing us to
destroy the Galactica, to wipe out the Fleet....who in his right mind
would do that?"
     "May I suggest the legendary Commander Cain?" said Lucifer.
     "Cain!  Yes, Cain, of course.  That would be just like him.  The
man's insane.  Once the Juggernaut makes up his mind to do
something....What does he care of the fleet or the Galactica?  He
wants...."
     Baltar's voice dropped to a whisper.
     "My God!" He turned pale.  "He wants me!  And he's just crazy enough
to attack three base ships all by himself.  But he must realize he has no
chance.  We outnumber him three to one, and our fighters----Our fighters! 
Lucifer, recall our fighter squadron at once!"
     Panic stricken, Baltar ordered the commanders of his two supporting
base ships to take up position in front of him, while his own base ship
fell back.  Just in case the fighter squadrons didn't make it back in
time before Cain intercepted him, he wanted as much firepower as possible
between himself and the Juggernaut.

*****

     Colonel Tigh was amazed.  "Sir, the incoming Cylon fighters
squadrons have suddenly turneda round and headed back the other way!  It
doesn't make sense!"
     "Yes, it makes perfect sense," Adama said.  "Baltar has recalled
them to save his own skin, just as Cain knew he would."
     "You don't mean the Pegasus.....You mean he's actually attacking
those three base ships?  All on his own?"
     Adama gritted his teeth.  "That's exactly what he's doing.  He's
saved our lives.  And the expense of his own.  Damn you, Cain!"

*****

     Apollo and Starbuck were about to climb aboard the Vipers when Cain
approached them.
     "Apollo...Starbuck...."
     "Sir?"
     "I just want you to know that I think you're two of the finest
warriors I've ever met," said Cain. "I can't think of anyone else I'd
sooner trust with the lives of so many of my people."
     "Between your squadrons and ours," said Apollo, "we'll get them to
safety."
     "Sir," said Starbuck.
     "Yes, Starbuck, what is it?"
     Starbuck hesitated. "There are those of us who...don't have a lot of
attachments....At least I don't...I wouldn't mind seeing this one through
with you to the end."
     Cain smiled and clapped the pilot on the shoulder.
     "Starbuck, I appreciate your offer.  But if I'm right, a lot of
Baltar's fighters will be turning around and heading back this way to
save Baltar's astrum for him.  Apollo will need every one of you to
protect the shuttles on their way back to the fleet."
     "But what about you?" said Starbuck.  "Without fighters..."
     "The Cylon base ships don't have any fighters right now, either,"
said Cain.
     "But they've got weaponry," Apollo said.
     Cain nodded. "So does the Pegasus. We may be shot up, but we can
still fight.  Besides, there's only one base ship I'm really interested
in.  Baltar's."
     Apollo offered him his hand. "Good luck."
     "You, too."
     "That goes double for me, sir," said Starbuck.
     Cain shook both their hands and moved away, walking quickly without
looking back.
     "Why do I have the feeling I won't be seeing him again," said
Starbuck.
     "I don't know, Starbuck," said Apollo. "I don't have that feeling.
And I can't tell you why, because when you consider the odds, there's no
way he can survive.  But then, that's the story of his whole career,
isn't it?"
     They climbed aboard their ships.
     Cain waited at the elevator, personally seeing off each of his
wounded crew.  Many of them were incapable of seeing him, but he was
there to see them off, just the same.  The nonessential personnel had
already boarded the shuttles.  Cassiopea came out of the elevator with a
med tech and a gurney bearing Sheba.
     "Father," she said, reaching out a hand to him, "I don't want to
go."
     Cain gently stroked her hair, then bent down and kissed her.
     "Better hurry with this one, Cassy," he said. "The other shuttles
are all loaded and ready to launch."
     "I guess you two would like a private moment to say goodbye," said
Sheba.
     Cassiopea shook her head. "No, there's nothing I could or ever have
said to your father that I wouldn't be proud to say in front of you,
Sheba."
     She moved up close to Cain and placed her fingertips lightly on his
cheek.
     "You're a very special man," she said. She smiled. "A hard man, but
a special man.  Whatever happens, I want you to know that I'm glad to
have been a small part of your life.  And I'll never forget you, you old
wardaggit."
     She kissed him.  The final countdown to launch began.  Cain glanced
down at Sheba ans smiled.  
     "Goodbye, baby."
     "I'll see you soon," she said, but her voice caught.
     "You bet you will!"
     Cain hurried to the bridge and stopped the moment he entered,
stunned.  Tiabo was propped up at his station behind the console.  His
chest was in a plastic support harness and his hands were bandaged.
     "What in Hades are you doing here?" Cain demanded. "All injured
personnel are supposed to be...."
     "Forget it, Commander," Tiabo said. "I'm sticking."
     "You realize this is insubordination," Cain said.
     "Yeah.  So court-martial me." Tiabo laughed, grimacing in pain.
     Cain laughed with him.  "Damn you, Tiabo, if we get through this,
I'll kick your astrum up between your shoulder blades."
     "If we get through this?" Tiabo said.  "You crazy smeerp, what makes
you think we've even got a c hance?"
     Both man and alien were silent for a long moment.
     "It's been a long haul, hasn't it?" said Cain.
     Tiabo nodded. "Yeah.  And it's been a good one. Damn.  Wish we had
time for a drink."
     "Tell me about it.  When this is over, I'm buying."
     Tiabo shook his head and grinned ruefully.  "Sure."  He thumbed on
his mike.  "Core systems transferring control to shuttles and fighter
escort.  Launch when ready." He thumbed off mike and shrugged. "What the
mishk, why take them with us?"
     "Range to base ships?" said Cain.
     "Thirty centons and closing," said Tiabo.  He checked his console. 
"All ships launched and under way."
     "Right," said Cain, "let's do it.  We've got a very important
important rendezvous with a man called Baltar."

*****

     Baltar fidgeted on his throne, chewing on his lower lip.  "How long
before our fighters can return to defend us?" he asked Lucifer nervously.
     "I'm afraid the Pegasus will reach us first," Lucifer replied.
     Baltar wrung his hands. "Drop back still further and order the
support ships to intercept the Pegasus."
     "I'm not sure the other base ship commanders will appreciate that,"
said Lucifer.
     "Damn you, Lucifer, it isn't a request!  It's an order!"
     "By your command, Baltar."

*****

     Tiabo shifted slightly in his chair, wincing with pain.  He
moistened his lips.
     "Two base ships coming up on range," he said. "The third has fallen
back behind them."
     "That'll be Baltar's ship," said Cain. "How obliging of him to let
us know which ship he's on.  Plot a course between the two base ships. 
Arm all missiles and bring defense shields to maximum strength."

*****

     Starbuck watched his scanner and made several quick calculations. 
Then he smiled and chinned on his comcircuit. 
     "Apollo...."
     "Go ahead, Starbuck."
     "According to my scanner and some calculations I've just made, our
vector to the fleet will take those shuttles well out of the path of
those returning Cylon fighters squadrons."
     "That was the general idea," Apollo replied.  "We don't want to lad
them back to a fleet of defenseless civilian ships."
     "Sure," said Starbuck, "and that means they really don't have our
protection.  I mean, those fighters aren't coming after us, they're going
to return to the base ships before they do anything else, right?  And
what's one less Viper----or two, if you get my drift."
     "I get your drift," said Apollo. "But what you're talking about is
violating orders."
     "Whose?"
     "What do you mean, whose?  Cain's?"
     "Now, how can we be accused of violating the orders of a man who's
not following orders himself?" said Starbuck.
     "Makes sense," Apollo said.
     "You with me, buddy?"
     "Boomer," said Apollo.
     "Yo!"
     "You're in command," Apollo said. "Starbuck and I want to check out
our rear flank."
     "Rear flank, huh?" said Boomer. "How far to our rear?"
     "Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies," said Apollo.
     "I suspected as much," Boomer replied. "You guys are space happy. 
But good luck."
     Starbuck's and Apollo's Vipers peeled off from the formation and
turned back, under full power, toward the Pegasus.
     Tiabo checked his screens, did a double take, then checked them
again.
     "Commander?"
     "Are we in missile range?" said Cain tensely.
     "Coming up on it," Tiabo replied, "but there're two Vipers
approaching us at sublight speed."
     "Whaat?  Who is it?  What the hell are they up to?  Identify...."
     "No time, sir.  Target range, two base ships dead ahead...."
     The two base ships opened up with their forward laser batteries.
     "Positive shield," said Cain.  The shield slid down over the bridge
observation port and they were now dependent upon their instruments, with
several scanner turrets not functioning.  "Return fire," said Cain.
     "Apollo's hand tensed on the controls of his viper.
     "There they are," he said. "Looks like he intends to try and go
inbetween them."
     "Let's see if we can't knock out their flank missile launchers,"
Starbuck said.
     "Oh, boy.  Well, who wants to live forever?  I'll take the ship on
the right," Apollo said.
     "I'll get the other one...."
     With engines working to the limit, both pilots went in under full
thrusters, diving down and passing over the Pegasus as they swooped down
upon the base ships, darting from side to side to avoid laser fire.
     "Sir!' said Tiabo. "Those two Vipers are attempting a strafing run
on those base ships dead ahead!"
     Cain sat up straight, leaning forward, his hands grasping the arm of
his chair tightly.
     "Starbuck and Apollo!' he exclaimed. "I told them...."
     "They seem to be angling for the flankside missile launchers on both
ships," said Tiabo.
     "They're clearing a way through for us!" said Cain.  He smashed his
fist down on the console.  "Come on, boys, go!  Go!"
     Apollo streaked in with Starbuck on his flank.  The base ships
loomed impossibly large before them, looking like small planets.  They
could both see the forward batteries as they swiveled to aim at them, and
almost at the same time both Vipers rolled, diving in between the two
base ships.
     Apollo looked "up" to see the massive hull of the base ships
directly "overhead."  For a moment he had the illusion that the
gargantuan craft was falling down on him, about to squash him like a bug,
but it quickly passed as he oriented himself to the new perspective.
     "You know, it's kinda nice in here," he said to Starbuck. "They
can't fire at us without hitting each other!"
     "Trouble is, we can't stay in here," Starbuck replied.  "We'd better
make it count."
     "Right!  Let's sock it to 'em!"
     Both Vipers cut loose, blasting with their lasers, raking the sides
of the base ships, pausing only to allow their lasers to recycle before
firing again.  Then they were through, hurtling away from both ships and
rolling, flying evasive maneuvers.
     "Scanners report solid damage to both base ships," Tiabo said
excitedly, "here....here, and here!"
     He pointed on the large screen showing the base ships, indicating
where Starbuck and Apollo had scored very telling hits.
     "I'll be damned," said Cain.  "They did it!  That's what I call
flying!"
     "And shooting," Tiabo said.
     "All right, let's not let 'em down.  We're going in.  Arm missiles
for point-blank range.  Even their shields won't be able to help them."
     "Closing to point-blank range," said Tiabo, jerking briefly as a
shower of sparks fell on him from an exploding monitor screen overhead.
"Ten...nine...."
     "Starbuck!" said Apollo. "My scanner shows incoming Cylons, must be
a thousand of 'em!"
     "Give or take a few hundred, eh?" said Starbuck.  He was flying more
than his Viper.  He was soaring on the most incredible adrenaline rush
his body had ever experienced.  The sheer terror of diving down between
those two base ships had triggered off a surge of indescribable vitality
inside him.  "We can't leave now," said Starbuck, "I want to see what
happens.  And we still have to get that third base ship."
     "Starbuck, for Sagan's sake!" Apollo said. "We can't fight off
several Cylon fighter squadrons!"
     "Apollo...we've come this far...."
     "Right, and I'm not about to end the journey here," Apollo said.
     "But we..."
     Starbuck!  Snap out of it!  Negative, you understand me?  No way! 
We've done our part!"
     "Three---two---one," said Tiabo."
     "Fire missiles!" Cain said.
     At the last possible moment, Cain rolled the Pegasus, dodging the
fire from the base ships' forward batteries, and the battlestar hurtled
between the two Cylon craft at an incredible speed with missiles firing,
slamming into the base ships.
     Apollo looked back to see an impossibly bright wash of light against
the velvet dark of space.
     "Did you see that?" Starbuck shouted.
     "I can't see anything but spots," Apollo replied. "I've never seen a
flash like that."
     "Can you see the Pegasus?"
     "No, I can't tell if he made it or not."
     "What do we do?"
     The Cylon fighters were closing fast.
     "Get our astrums outta here, that's what," Apollo said, "and go
home---at the speed of light, if possible!"

*****

     The Galactica was under way, the fuel having ben distributed
throughout the fleet.  When Starbuck and Apollo rendezvoused with the
battlestar, Adama had been overjoyed, although he tried to hide his
feelings behind a stoic exterior.  He had never expected to see either
one of them again.
     That's twice I've lost them, Adama thought, only to have them
restored to me again.  Although he would never allow Starbuck to know it,
Adama felt about him as though he were an adopted son.  In a way, he was. 
Flamboyant, insubordinate, a maverick, but still a son.  As different
from this true son, Apollo, as it was possible to be, yet still they were
like brothers.
     As soon as the Vipers carrying Starbuck and Apollo were aboard,
Adama leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, allowing himself to
relax for the first time since it all began.  The first time his prodigal
sons had returned, they came back with Cain and he had saved their lives,
the lives of every man and woman in the fleet.  Moreover, he had done it
his way, as he always had.  It was an old joke that they used to have
between them, that there were three ways to get anything done...the right
way, the wrong way, and Cain's way, but whether it was right or rwrong,
Cain's way always brought results.  Well, now Starbuck and Apollo had
returned from the dead a second time.  Only this time, they came back
alone.
     Adama rose to his feet and took a deep breath.  "I'll be in the life
station," he told Athena.
     She smiled and nodded. She knew how he had been feeling. Apollo was
his favorite, although her father did not consciously act as if he were,
and she understood.  She did not resent her brother, rather she felt
sorry that the strength of emotion between her father and brother could
not be brought into the open.  For reasons of their own, owing to the
nature of their personalities, father and son could never really show the
love they felt for each other.  They hid behind their roles as Captain
and Commander, but the love was there, nevertheless.  Both men knew it,
though, like many men, they had difficulty in finding ways to express it.
     There were many times when she wished that she could be out there in
a Viper, flying with her brother's squadron, but she knew that every time
Apollo departed on a mission, part of Adama's heart went with him. She
could only imagine how her father felt at such times.  There was the fact
that she was the most qualified person aboard to do her job, and the fat
that, besides Starbuck, Apollo was the finest pilot in the fleet, better
than she could ever hope to be.  Yet she also understood that it was
necessary for Adama to keep her by his side.  He needed to know that she
was there.  Like Cain, Adama, too, had lost his wife.  Unlke Cain, he had
an incredible weight of responsibility for all the people in the fleet. 
Unlike Cain, he never had someone like Cassiopea to help him through the
hard times.  All he had was the Galactica.  Thanks to Cain, the Galactica
had once again been saved.
     It's over, thought Athena as she watched her father leave the
bridge. This time.

*****

     Cassiopea glanced up as Adama entere with Starbuck and Apollo. 
Sheba was lying down on one of the beds.
     "Not too long," said Cassiopea.  "She needs to build her strength
back up."
     Sheba squeezed Cassiopea's hand before she moved away.
     "Any word?" Sheba asked anxiously.
     "No,' Adama said. He hesitated. "But that means nothing.  He
wouldn't break communication silence and reveal his position."
     Sheba gave him a small smile.  She blinked back tears.
     "Thanks for trying," she said, "but what are the odds against their
surviving all those fighters?  And that other base ship?" She shook her
head.
     "What are the odds when we thought you were all lost over two
yahrens ago?" said Adama.
     "Far as I'm concerned," said Starbuck, "he just headed out into deep
space the way he did the last time.  Those fighters couldn't have
followed very far with empty fuel cells.  They'd flown a long way
already."
     "In the meantime," said Adama, "until we hear from your father, I
want you to consider yourself an addition to our family."
     He took her hand and squeezed it.
     "I already do," he said.
     "I think you should let her rest now," said Cassiopea, ushering them
out of the life station.  At the door, Starbuck paused.
     "Cassy, look..." He paused uncertainly.  "I know things have been
hard the last..."
     She stopped him by putting a finger to her lips.
     "Don't say it. Now's not the time or the place."
     "Yes, but..."
     "Why don't you come and see me later, in my cabin, when I've gone
off duty?  We can talk then, if you like.  Or we don't have to talk."
     She leaned forward and kissed him lingeringly on the lips.  Then she
went back into the life station, closing the doors behind her.  Starbuck
stood staring at the doors for a moment, then sighed and scratched his
head.
     "Frak, felgercarb and shit!  I need a drink."  He moved off towards
the Officers' Club.
     Apollo and Adama walked slowly side by side down the corridor.  For
a while they didn't speak.
     "It must be hard for her," Apollo said finally.
     Adama nodded. "Indeed."
     "He was a damn good man, wasn't he?"
     "Yes, he was."
     "I...I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," Apollo said.
     Adama stopped.  He swallowed heavily and turned to face his son. 
For a moment, both men simply stood there, staring at each other, then
Adama stepped forward and put his arms around his son, crushing him to
him in a strong embrace.  Apollo hugged him back, but they broke apart
when they saw several crewmembers approaching.  They stood there briefly,
feeling awkward and embarrassed, then Apollo said, "What do you say,
Commander---want to go visit your adopted grandson?"
     Adama smiled. "Yes, I do.  Very much."
     They walked off down the corridor together.  They didn't even notice
that they kept in step.    

*****

From The Adama Journals:

     It seems to me an entire lifetime has passed since Apollo and
Starbuck had gone out on patrol together and failed to return.  I thought
I had lost them, but they had returned, bringing with them another man I
had thought long dead.
     Cain.  What can anybody make of Cain?  They called him the "living
legend of outer space," the Juggernaut, a name he richly deserved, for he
was as stubborn and implacable as any man I had ever met.  We had been
friends for yahrens, for longer than our children had been alive,
although we had never spent a great deal of time together.  Fate always
took us down different paths.  In many ways, we were like Starbuck and
Apollo.  I look at Starbuck and see a budding Cain, brash, aggressive,
certain of himself and self-centered, a man who could be easily disliked
if it were not for compensating charms and irrefutable evidence of his
abilities that justified his intensity and self-confidence.  Apollo, on
the other hand, is like me.  Cool, steady, compassionate, a man who hides
his vulnerabilities beneath an exterior of military discipline.  But at
least Starbuck and Apollo are together.  For all their quarrels, for all
their disagreements and impatience with each other, Cain and I had been
as close as it was possible for two men to be.  Faith had brought them
back together again and had again torn them apart.  This time, forever, I
fear.


The End