"Little Sister"
            (By Sharon Monroe, writing as Paul Gordon)

     Starbuck watched in amusement as a group of young cadets filed out
of the simulator room.  Then he sauntered up to the podium where
Apollo, too, stood grinning over one particular cadet's observations on
Viper performance.
     "She keeps trying, doesn't she?" the blond warrior remarked.
     His friend glanced at him, barely restraining a chuckle. "You have
to allow for cadets.  Even a kid who grew up around Vipers and warriors
is going to miss a few of the finer points.  Maggi's learning.  She'll
be as good a pilot as her brother, when she grows up."
     "She looks grown up enough to me," Starbuck replied mischievously. 
There was a sly undertone to his words the other man somehow missed.
     "She's barely seventeen," Apollo admonished with a shrug and
another grin.  "I thought you liked them older and more experienced." 
With that, he checked his chronometer, grabbed a stack of papers, and
headed out the door, waving airily to Starbuck and Jolly as he left.
     "I don't think Apollo realized it was *him* you were digging at,"
Jolly commented with an exaggerated leer.  "If that girl gets any more
obvious in her interest, he's gonna find her in his...room some night."
     "I doubt she'd go *that* far, at least not without an invitation,"
Starbuck laughed.  "But I *do* know for a fact that only yesterday,
Maggi was explaining that very same point to a fellow cadet - and I
think she knew more about it than *I* do."
     "What else would you expect from Monk's little sister?  She's been
hanging around the squadron almost as long as he was a part of it.  And
I think she's wanted to take his place ever since he was killed at
Carillon."
     "Yeah," Starbuck replied in a softer voice.  "Too bad about Monk. 
He was a fun guy; everybody liked him.  And we all liked his little
sister, too, no matter how much we teased her then.  I don't think it's
occurred to Apollo yet that she's grown up a bit since then."
     "It will," Jolly assured him.  "She's not the quitting type. 
Omega won't like it, though.  I noticed him waiting for her outside
when class was dismissed."
     "*He's* sure noticed she's grown up!  And he's known her a lot
longer than we have.  I think their fathers were friends or something
yahrens ago.  But speaking of meeting somebody, I gotta go.  See ya
later, buddy!"
     "Cassie or Athena?" Jolly shouted after him.
     Starbuck only grinned, leaving him to consider the vagaries of
life for all of two microns before he decided the young cadet's love
life was none of his concern - even it might someday involve his
commanding officer.

* * * * *

     Cadet Magdala waited with bated breath, fingers surreptitiously
crossed at her sides as Captain Apollo read off squadron assignments.
     Not that she had any doubts as to where she belonged.  Her brother
had been in Blue Squadron, and the vivacious young redhead had sworn to
herself that she would be one of them, even before the Destruction. 
Now, her dream was finally coming true.  Apollo would take her in his
squadron, he had to.  He'd been a friend of Monk's; they'd worked side
by side and respected each other.  And she was sure her friend, Flight
Officer Omega, had put in a good word for her; she'd let him know her
assignment preference.
     Besides, Captain Apollo loved her.
     Oh, he'd never said so, not in so many words.  But he'd always
treated her a little differently from the others during training - had
always been accessible to her, always had a special smile, a few words
of encouragement.  He'd paid her extra attention, shown that he cared
in lots of little ways.  He couldn't *tell* her during training, of
course.  He was a captain, the training instructor; she was a cadet. 
It wouldn't have been proper for them to see each other, and Apollo was
very much a proper officer.
     But now, she would be in his squadron, and they could start a
relationship in earnest, for she knew she loved her late brother's
flight commander as much as he loved her. *Now, we can be together...*
     "...Cadet Janaka, assigned to Red Squadron..."
     The boy standing next to her yelped in pleasure.  He had a close
friend in that squadron.  Apollo paused briefly, trying to look
properly offended at the small breach of military procedure.  Magdala
swore to conduct herself with more decorum when her assignment was
announced.  She wouldn't embarrass Apollo with either look or sound.
     "...Cadet Magdala, to Blue Squadron..."
     She drew a quick breath as relief rushed through her taut body. 
She hadn't realized she was so tense and anxious about her assignment
until now, when the question was settled. *I'm in Blue Squadron!*  Her
eyes gleamed, and she tried to stand even straighter as Apollo finished
the flight assignments for the rest of her classmates.
     Elation still sang through her a few moments later when the class
was dismissed.  They had a few centars before they were required to
report to pilots' quarters for bunk assignments.  Omega was waiting for
her, although her father had been too busy to attend this small
ceremony.  With a gay laugh, she threw herself into his arms with an
abandon shared only with her closest, dearest friends.
     Omega was thoroughly pleased to find himself embracing the tall,
slender girl.  He thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever
known.  He even adored the light dusting of freckles across her small,
straight nose.  She was a burst of red-gold sunshine and starlight in a
universe that had gotten very dark in the last half-yahren.
     "You seem quite pleased with your assignment," he commented,
returning her smile.  He never noticed the averted eyes and knowing,
carefully concealed smiles of people making their way around them, or
he would have been embarrassed at such behavior in public.  But then,
Omega didn't notice a lot of things when Magdala was around.
     "Blue Squadron!" she returned ecstatically, tossing back her thick
mane of shoulder-length hair.  "The very best in the fleet, and I'm one
of them!"
     "Hey, all our squadrons are the best!" he laughed.
     "The best of the best, then!" she pronounced, carefree.
     "Glad you're happy about it.  Got a little time to celebrate? 
*Before* I lose you to an entire squadron?" he teased.
     She giggled.  "Take me to the Officer's Club!  Let's go!"  Today,
everything was going her way.  She'd tell her father later.  He'd be so
pleased...

* * * * *

     "But, Father, I'm in Blue Squadron," she repeated meekly. 
Magdala's happiness had dissipated at her father's obvious displeasure. 
"That was Monk's squadron.  I thought--"
     Matthan turned his glowering face back to his daughter.  "You know
quite well I didn't want you in the service at all!  I don't care if
you're in Monk's squadron.  He died there in Captain Apollo's squad." 
There was no compromise with his dark anger.
     She took a step back.  Her father was still a strong and
powerfully-built man.  He'd been so different since the loss of her
mother and the other siblings in the Destruction, and since Monk's
death at Carillon.  He'd never struck her, but there were moments now
when she was afraid of him.
     "Father," she entreated, "please try to understand why I have to
do this.  Please try to accept and be happy for me..."
     "Why?" he demanded starkly.  "Should I be happy that my only
surviving family has chosen warrior's suicide, serving with Caption
Apollo?"
     "Don't talk that way about him!  And it's not suicide!  It's
necessary!  We need warriors, we need pilots, the fleet needs
defenders!  I'm one of them now, and I'm in the best group there is..."
     His icy stare never wavered.
     Heartbreak and rebellion flamed, engulfing her.  "All right,
Father, you go ahead and think whatever you want!  *I* know I did the
right thing, and I'm standing by my decision!"  She turned on her heel
and ran from him, leaving their expensive dinner untouched on the
plates.
     Matthan stared vacantly around the small but elegant room.  She'd
splurged to afford this special dinner on the Rising Star, probably
borrowing from friends too, but it was wasted cubits.  He wasn't going
to give his approval to this, not ever.
     *She took cadet training against my wishes as soon as she was old
enough.  And now she thinks I should be pleased she's in Blue Squadron. 
That was Monk's squadron, and Captain Apollo is still its flight
leader.  They take the most dangerous missions.  They're the suicide
squadron...*
     He didn't care if she and Apollo were in love.  Omega would've
been a better choice for her - he, at least, had a sane head on his
shoulder, and was likely to keep it there.  He was as steady as his
father had been, he would've kept her from doing this stupid thing.
     But Apollo...  *She'd follow him to hades.  Unless he sends her
there without him.*
     Matthan's powerful fist clenched more tightly on the goblet he
held.  The metal slowly bent under the pressure, and golden ambrosa
spilled onto the carpet.
     *He's responsible for Monk's death.  He's responsible...*  The
thought ran like a litany through his mind as he dropped the misshapen
goblet and left the chamber.  The fine meal cooled, uneaten.

* * * * *

     Two patrols landed almost simultaneously, and met at
decontamination.
     "Not bad for your first time out!" Diedre congratulated her young
wingmate.  Magdala's first patrol had gone well.
     "Of course, she did good!" interjected a masculine voice behind
the two women.  "Monk's little sister couldn't be anything but good." 
Starbuck draped one arm over each woman's shoulder, drawing them both
closer to him.
     Diedre glanced over her free shoulder to see Boomer approaching. 
"When are you going to teach this punk some grammar?" she called.
     He grinned in response as he joined them.  "When have you ever
cared about grammar?" he countered.  "But it sounds like you're right,
Maggi's going to make a fine pilot."
     The young woman's face flushed with delight.  The easy banter the
squadronmates shared was something she still had to get used to.  That,
and the fact that she could now join in with them, no longer an
intruding kid, but one of them.
     "Flying with me, what else could she be?" Diedre continued.  "I'm
sorry to say I never knew Monk, but I think we ought to be fair enough
to admit she could become a fine pilot entirely on her own!"  Her
challenging smile was directed at both Starbuck and Boomer.
     Starbuck immediately disengaged his arm from the black woman. 
"Right, right!" he declared.  "And I wouldn't want to argue with you on
that knowing your temper as I do."
     Diedre fixed him with a level stare, one fist pounding into the
opposite palm.  "Starbuck, if you weren't so charming, some woman
would've killed you a long time ago.  I know several who might be
convinced to help right now."
     The men both laughed.  Starbuck's reputation was legendary, and he
did nothing to discourage it - to the contrary, he enjoyed it.
     Diedre and Magdala joined in after a micron, the cadet reveling in
the teasing, still flushed with confidence from the joy of completing
her first patrol, and receiving accolades from these experienced
warriors. *I'm truly one of them now!*
     Starbuck dropped his arm from around Magdala's shoulder.  "Boomer,
do you think you could handle debriefing?  I've got a hot
appointment..."
     "You've always got someplace you've absolutely got to be when it's
time to make reports!" the other man declared, rolling his eyes in mock
indignation and self-righteousness.  "And I get stuck with them!  But I
suppose I can handle our poor, injured Captain..."
     "What's wrong with him?" Diedre interrupted, looking concerned.
     Starbuck and Boomer both guffawed.  "Seems he sprained his wrist
playing triad yesterday," Starbuck began.  "One of those kids managed
to accomplish what none of our opponents ever have in any game we've
ever played..."
     "Hey!" Magdala interjected, leaping to the captain's defense. 
"One of those little boys got in the way!  Apollo was just trying to
avoid running him over, and he fell badly!"  She felt an injured sense
of outrage at Starbuck's talking that way about Apollo, even in fun.
     "All right, all right," Starbuck conceded with a grin.  "It was
all for a good cause, demonstrating triad to some inept kids.  But he
can't fly for a few days - and you know how he gets when he's supposed
to be 'laid up'."
     Diedre made a face.  "As bad as you?"
     "Worse!" Starbuck declared unequivocally.  "So you'll handle the
report?" he repeated, turning to his wingman.
     Boomer shrugged.  "Sure."
     "Wish somebody'd handle mine!" Diedre grumbled with a sidelong
glance at Magdala.
     The girl instantly grabbed the opportunity to see Apollo.  "*I*
can do it," she said, trying to sound nonchalant and at ease, as if
this were nothing more to her than a small exchange of favors between
friends.
     "Will you?  Thanks, Mag.  I owe ya!"
     "Sure!"  With a quick smile, Magdala headed away at a rapid, eager
pace.
     "Hmm!" Boomer observed.  "Guess I'd better catch up with her, or
Apollo'll bust us for not being prompt for debriefings!"
     Diedre and Starbuck were left laughing.
     "Does Apollo know the kid's chasing him?" the woman finally asked
as they strolled away from decontamination.
     "Are you kidding?  Apollo'd probably blush as much as she does
when we tease her - if he even *thought* it.  He still sees her as
Monk's little sister, treats her almost like one of the family."
     "Think he'll get the hint?"
     "Who knows?"  He shrugged.  "She's not the first cadet to fall for
a squadron leader.  They usually get over it quick enough.  If it ever
dawns on Apollo that she cares for him, he'll probably lie low until
she gets over it and finds somebody else.  She's only seventeen -
Apollo made *that* very clear to me one day."  There was no point in
making a big deal about it.  As he'd said, it often happened that young
cadets fancied themselves in love with experienced, heroic superiors. 
The problem usually lay in the times when those superiors took
advantage of their junior's affections.
     "What really gets me," he added introspectively, "is why she chose
a frigid guy like Apollo to fall for, and not somebody warm like me..."
     His words turned into a yelp of pain as something connected hard
with his ankle.  It was Diedre's boot.

* * * * *

     The hellish battle might have been planned by Mephistopheles
himself.
     Cylons ambushed a two-man patrol.  The experienced pilot, a member
of Red Squadron, died in the first micron.  Her young wingman, one of
the Galactica's "nine-day-wonders," panicked, and fled back to his base
ship.  The Cylons, apparently sensing his goal, followed eagerly,
permitting the youth to lead them without firing on him.
     The Galactica threw up an electronic jamming screen as soon as her
crew realized what was happening.  All Viper Squadrons were launched,
and the battlestar herself moved into combat.  The Raiders couldn't be
allowed to escape and report that they'd found the human refugees.  The
safety of the fleet lay in its ability to hide from the Cylons as it
fled; its location and secret goal had to be protected at all costs.
     Keyed up and tense, knowing their failure could mean the
destruction of all that survived from the Colonies, the warriors flew
and fought with desperate ferocity.  They had the Cylons outnumbered,
but the need to ensure that all their attackers perished was a
psychological sword hanging over their collective heads.
     They had to follow when a few Raiders disengaged and fled the
battle.  Blue Squadron pursued, splitting up as necessary to track the
enemy down, while still keeping an alert eye for possible ambush
against them.
     "Boomer, Starbuck, get that one breaking left!" Apollo ordered
tensely.  The Cylons had gone to extra effort, it seemed, to make sure
his first flight after his minor injury was a memorable one.
     "Right."
     The field was almost cleaned up.  The Raider ahead should be the
last.  It seemed to realize it had no chance to escape, and abruptly
changed its tactics.  It must've hit braking flaps for it suddenly
seemed to go into reverse as the Colonial fighters closed on it. 
Apollo smiled grimly - his warriors new that trick, too, and they
wouldn't fall for it.
     "Mag!  No!"  Diedre's cry over the comm held urgency and horror as
one of the Vipers overshot the Raider before braking, stopping
directly-
     Apollo cursed.  He hit his thrusters again almost blacking out
from the sudden whiplash.  She was right in the Cylon's sights, unless
one of them could-
     They couldn't, not fast enough.  The solitary Viper disintegrated
in a glow of laser fire.
     "Maggi?" he heard Diedre call uncertainly.
     He took the Raider out himself.  There was nothing left in space
but Vipers.
     "Who was it?" Apollo heard Starbuck call softly.  He and Boomer
had only seen the ship destroyed.
     "Monk's little sister," Diedre replied, equally softly.

* * * * *

     On the bridge, Omega listened woodenly to the report from the
incoming squadrons.  Adama saw his expression.  "You knew one of the
casualties?" he asked quietly.
     Omega's glance was void, his words delivered flatly.  "I knew
Magdala.  Our families were close; her brother and I were at the
Academy together...  I'd like to be the one to tell her father, if I
may, Commander.  She was all the family he had left."
     Adama felt the younger man's pain.  To have to hear something like
that himself...  "Call your shift replacement.  Go tell him."
     "Thank you, sir."

* * * *

     "You sure you want to do this, Apollo?" Starbuck asked as the two
warriors landed on the Arian freighter in the middle of the fleet.
     "Yes," the captain replied briefly.
     Starbuck felt the sadness the other man's voice tried to conceal. 
Magdala wasn't the only casualty that day, but she was the one closest
to them.  She'd been in Blue Squadron, a legacy of another pilot; it
was her first fire-fight; and she'd only been seventeen.
     He knew Apollo had never realized the girl was infatuated with
him; maybe it was just as well.  He also knew how his friend reacted to
losing those close to him; even if he didn't care for the girl, just
knowing she cared for him wouldn't hurt, and made him feel even more
uncomfortably responsible than he always did for his people.
     And maybe Apollo felt something of a debt extending back to Monk
for some reason.  Monk and Magdala had been close, even for brother and
sister; the girl'd hung around for yahrens, and been inordinately proud
of her big brother.  Monk used to bring the then-gangly young girl
around; she was teased constantly about being the squadron's mascot. 
Now, she'd followed her brother in more ways than one.  Only their
father was left.
     And Apollo probably couldn't help making comparisons with his own
family, and thinking how easily it could happen...
     "Want me to wait for you?" Starbuck asked meekly.  He'd come this
far.  He might as well wait until Apollo finished his sad duty.  Diedre
was already on her way back to the Galactica, and would clean out
Magdala's things; there was no reason to hurry.
     "Thanks."  Without another word, the captain took off through the
small landing bay leaving Starbuck standing by their ships.
     The lieutenant waved at a pair of techs who came rushing over to
find out if there was anything wrong.  "Nothing wrong, guys, not with
us," he called to them.  "But if you got time, you wanna refuel our
Vipers?  We may have to leave in a hurry if you know what I mean."
     The techs, not much more than kids, were quick to oblige him, eyes
wide at the chance to handle and service the sleek fighter craft.
     *Their usual jobs must be awful mundane,* Starbuck thought as he
watched them. *But, damn, we got kids doin' everything these days...* 
He felt, suddenly, very old and tired, and getting rapidly older and
more tired.  The Destruction, and everything that had happened since,
had aged him a lot faster than time had a right to.  His friends, too. 
It was wearing them all out before their time.

* * * * * 

     Matthan stared at the dark-haired, green-eyed man.  The one she'd
described.  The bad news wasn't really unexpected, but he wished it
hadn't come so soon.  Warriors died young, some of them, before any
human had the burden of having his life demanded of him.
     *But this Captain Apollo, he seems likely to outlive them all. 
He's already outlived his time, beaten death more than most.  Monk and
Magdala are dead, and this man continues to live.*  Rage flared from
the depths of his soul, flooded his mind. *It's not fair!*
     "I'm sorry," the man repeated.  Matthan forced himself to listen.
"She was as good as any other warrior.  She just got caught in the
wrong place at the wrong time.  If there had been anything we could
have done..."
     *Yes, sure!*
     "Her wingmate will bring her things later, if you want them.  You
have the sympathy of the entire squadron.  We all liked Magdala, she
was sweet and bright and talented.  We'll all miss her."
     *Liked?  Sweet?  She said you loved her, you bastard!  Or do you
stop caring when they're dead?  You're a deadly man to love...* The
demon screaming inside his mind demanded vengeance.
     "Thank you for coming in person, Captain.  I'm glad you took the
time to talk to me."  He knew what he had to do to protect the other
warriors, the young ones like Monk and Magdala.  He would keep them
safe.
     "I wish there was something more I could say or do," Apollo said,
looking down.  The grief was too controlled to be real, the drawn look
had to be false.
     "There is one thing, Captain..."
     "Yes?"  He looked up questioningly.
     Matthan raised his left hand as if it held something.  "There was
something I think Magdala would've liked for you to have..."
     The powerful right fist slammed savagely into the young man's jaw,
knocking him flying.  Apollo never saw the punch coming; he reeled
back, neck snapping, the side of his head colliding cruelly with the
wall before he crumpled into a heap on the cold floor.
     Satisfaction grew in Matthan's cold green eyes.  *I will protect
the others.  The threat that Captain Apollo represents to them will be
removed.*  He bent over, grunting as he hoisted the unconscious body
over his broad shoulders.

* * * * *

     *I have to set my own misery aside.  This will be a cruel blow to
Matthan.  I must be strong, find the right balance of grieving with him
and being a support for him...*
     Omega had been like another son to the old mechanic; he hoped he
was enough to make up for the loneliness of losing the last of his
family.  It didn't help that he wanted desperately to simply hide
himself away and mourn Magdala's loss in private.  She'd been so
beautiful, and he'd loved her so much, for so long...  If there'd been
a little more time for her to finish growing up, they might have had
time, he might have been able to tell her, they might have found an
opportunity to share that love.  But as it was...
     The landing bay was almost empty.  The few moments he'd taken to
compose himself and find the right words had allowed the shuttle to
empty and the personnel to hurry to their own tasks.  The only people
near him were a pair of young men fussing over two Vipers.  Omega
noticed a pilot sitting alone next to one of the ships, puffing on a
fumarello.  It was Lieutenant Starbuck of Blue Squadron - of Magdala's
squadron.  If he was here, maybe Captain Apollo was too, and the
responsibility perhaps already taken care of...but not by him.  Not
yet. He owed Matthan...
     "Hello, Lieutenant.  Are you here alone?"  He thought he sounded
reasonably controlled, and he had a right to know if someone was
already with Matthan.
     The warrior looked up.  "Hi, Omega."  Those sharp blue eyes never
missed a thing.  "You here to see Maggi's father?"
     "Yes."  A beat.  "I've known the family a long time, and thought
it might be easier to hear the bad news from a friend."
     "Apollo's already there."
     "I suspected as much when I saw you."
     "You loved the kid, didn't you?"
     There seemed little point in answering.  Admitting he loved her
wouldn't bring her back.  Denying it would likewise be to no avail.  He
chose to nod, wishing the lieutenant wouldn't ask questions like that. 
"I knew Maggi for a long time.  But she was too young, it wouldn't have
been right.  I'd hoped that when she was older..."
     Starbuck nodded knowingly, but Omega thought he looked a little
embarrassed.
     "I should go.  Matthan was a friend of my father's for yahrens.  I
should be there," he finished brusquely.  He had nothing against the
young pilot, but just now, he didn't want to continue the conversation.
     He hurried away, but his footsteps slowed as soon as he reached
the deck where Matthan's quarters were.  The numbness was wearing off. 
He wasn't sure he wanted to be there; he knew he would be welcome as
he'd always been, but he wished it were for any other reason.
     He hesitated a moment at the door, then touched the chime panel. 
After a moment, he heard a muffled, "Come in."
     The room was empty.  He heard the older man bumping around in the
other chamber.  As he set his hand to that door, it opened, and the man
who'd been like family to him for yahrens pushed out into the room,
shoving him back from the door with one hand.
     "Omega."  The tone was guarded, and Matthan's eyes kept darting
around the chamber, nervous and wary, looking for something.  He kept
his other hand out of sight behind his back.
     "What's wrong?" Omega asked immediately.  Something was disturbing
Matthan.  The man was tense, but elated, too, shaking with
anticipation.  "Uncle Matthan, what is it?"
     "Nothing's wrong.  I'm pleased to see you.  Why are you here?"
     Omega stared.  "Didn't Captain Apollo-?"
     "He hasn't been here.  Why?"
     "It's Maggi...Magdala."  Matthan had never liked the nickname. 
"She was in the battle today, and...  But you know, you *have* to know. 
Captain Apollo wouldn't...  Starbuck said he was here to tell you, and
I know he'd have come..."  Why was Matthan behaving so erratically?  He
could see it in the way the man kept looking away from him, in the
strange excitement lighting his eyes.  Something was very wrong here...
     "You loved my Magdala, didn't you?" Matthan asked abruptly,
catching his wrist, staring at him intently.
     Did everyone know except Magdala?  Now, it was his turn to squirm. 
"Yes.  Yes, I did.  But I never said or did anything improper.  I knew
she was too young.  I was willing to wait..."
     "I know that.  I also know she'd dead.  He told me, before... 
Will you avenge her murder?"
     "What?"  He froze.   "The Cylons killed her.  What are you talking
about?"  A chill ran down his spine.  "Where's Captain Apollo?"
     Matthan gestured at the door to his sleeping chamber.  "Waiting." 
There was something maniacal in his smile, his laughter.  "She loved
him, and he betrayed her to the Cylons, betrayed Monk, betrayed us
all..."
     "Huh?"  *Maggi loved Apollo?  No, it can't be-*  A flush of
anguish joined the grief, a sense of rejection that suddenly made sense
out of numerous things she'd said since the day she'd begun her
training.  *If she loved Apollo, it all makes sense.  I just didn't see
it...  No, it can't be!  It's just the ravings of...*
     ...of a madman.  Matthan's grief had overbalanced him, wrecked his
equilibrium and sense of realty.  Omega finally recognized it.  There
had been a lot of it among the survivors at first, a near-insanity that
erupted into violence several times in the fleet - and unknown times in
the Colonies during those first horrible days after the Destruction. 
What would Matthan do now?
     "She loved him, you see, and he betrayed her to them, let the
Cylons kill her while he stood aside.  Just like he did to Monk.  Just
like he's done to the others...  Omega, help give justice.  You loved
her - you're a son to me - avenge her!"  Matthan's eyes peered into
his, glistening with a madness that was contagious.  There was
something hypnotic in the madman's words and gaze.
     Omega felt a wave of rage and hatred unfamiliar to him.  Nausea
swept immediately after it.   *Maybe madness is contagious?*
     Matthan saw it, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back to the bed
chamber door.  "I knew you'd help, when you heard, when you saw..."

* * * * *

     Apollo's head ached as if it had been split in two along a fault
line on the right side.  There was a similar line of fire in his jaw. 
He tried to move his mouth, and nearly passed out from pain.  Then he
realized his arms had been pulled behind his back and tied with
something.  His left hand felt numb - sprained, again?
     He remembered a punch he hadn't seen in time to dodge, and a
sudden blackout.  *Maggi's father hit me!  Where am I now?*
     He lifted his head, trying to look around without moving too much. 
Every little movement caused throbs of agony that spread through his
body like light-speed waves on a disturbed pond.  He was lying a bed in
somebody's rather plain, cramped quarters.  His arms were bound behind
him.  There was something stuffed in his mouth - meant as a gag,
obviously.  Somebody didn't want him making any noise.  Didn't want him
going anywhere, either.  His ankles were tied as well.
     His gunbelt and holster were gone.  *Is that is?  Did Matthan want
a weapon?  What for?  What have I walked into?  And what's going to
happen to me now?*
     He heard a door open behind him somewhere, and tried to roll over. 
Bad mistake.  All the little light-waves of pain intensified into a
nova of agony.  His senses swam blurrily for a moment, and he felt sick
to his stomach.  Then the image focused.
     Two men stood over him.  One was Matthan, the dead cadet's father. 
He had a tight grip on the other man's shoulder - Flight Officer Omega. 
Omega was pale, staring at him.  Matthan had a fanatical look about
him, and he carried a laser - his own weapon, Apollo realized rather
belatedly.
     "You see?" Matthan demanded huskily, smiling demonically and
keeping a tight grip on the shivering Omega.  "We have him.  We can
avenge them, Monk, and Magdala, and all the others who died."
     "It was the Cylons..."
     "She loved him!  And he let her down!  You loved her, you would
have saved her.  It's your right to avenge her now!"  Matthan thrust
the weapon into Omega's hand.  Apollo could see him staring at it with
horror even as his fingers closed on it; the weight seemed almost too
much for him to hold.
     *Sagan, they're going to kill me!*  He recognized the look. 
Insanity on Matthan's face, and something in Omega's features that
suggested he'd been mesmerized.  He'd kill without thinking or
realizing what he was doing.
     "No..."  Omega shook his head, fighting his way back.  "No,
Matthan, no.  This isn't right, it won't help Maggi.  Please, let's
talk this over.  We can help you.  Killing Apollo won't bring them
back..."  His voice grew stronger, more urgent, as he turned to face
the mechanic, reaching for his shoulder.
     "You're supporting him?" Matthan screamed suspiciously.  "You
didn't deserve her either!  None of you did!  You're *all* responsible! 
I'm glad she's gone!"
     The scene blurred again for several microns as Apollo tried to
move.  He blinked, trying to bring it back.  He could hear sounds, a
scuffle, somebody crying out...
     ...a laser blast.
     His vision cleared.  He saw Omega crouched against the bulkhead,
clutching his side.  *Matthan shot him.  And I'm next...*
     But Matthan didn't turn on him.  He held the weapon tightly in his
grasp, staring down at Omega, shaking his head in disbelief.  "No... 
That wasn't supposed to happen...  I'm sorry, that wasn't..."
     He backed through the door, and it closed behind him, shutting
them apart from him.
     Omega pulled himself to his feet, stumbling to the door as fast as
he could.  Whether he meant to lock it as a defense against Matthan or
to follow his old friend, Apollo didn't know.
     The man froze where he stood when the sound of a laser shot came
through the door.
     Apollo watched as Omega collapsed against the wall, tears running
silently down his cheeks.  The captain couldn't feel much of anything
any more, except light-headedness.  He was passing out again...

* * * * *

     Starbuck found them.  His impatient, inquisitive nature led him to
search for Apollo when he grew tired of waiting in the landing bay -
the freighter, after all, didn't even have a decent bar.  But he
certainly didn't expect what he saw when he stepped into the mechanic's
quarters.
     He found Matthan sprawled on the floor in his own blood, staring
at the ceiling.  Shocked at the unexpected carnage, Starbuck called
security.
     His fears were relieved when he found Apollo, still unconscious
and bound, but alive.  His friend would be all right.  Omega has passed
out, too, losing blood from a wound in his right side, but Dr. Salik
rushed him to surgery, and he, too, would be all right.
     Security's investigation was brief.  Study of the scene, coupled
with statements from Captain Apollo and Flight Officer Omega, both in
life center on the Galactica, confirmed the official verdict.  Matthan
had died of a self-inflicted wound from Apollo's weapon.
     Suicide.

* * * * *

     Apollo and Omega both missed the official ceremonies of mourning
for the battle casualties several days later.  They were both in life
center.  Apollo's broken jaw and dislocated shoulder had been quickly
taken care of, but he still had a headache from the minor concussion. 
The wound in Omega's side would keep him bed-ridden for several days
longer.
     The ceremony for Matthan was less well attended than the one for
Cadet Magdala of Blue Squadron.  Starbuck was at both; Magdala had been
in his squadron, and he was the one who'd found Matthan.  He felt
duty-bound to be there for both of them.
     Then he carried word back to both Apollo and Omega, who was
especially grateful for his thoughtfulness.

* * * * *

     Apollo was restless.  Magdala, and the events following her death,
had left an unhappy imprint on his mind.  A micron of excited
over-eagerness on a young woman's part, and she would never reach her
eighteenth birthday.  Cylon fire had found her, as it had found her
older brother.
     Her father's reaction had been the unexpected part.  From what
he'd been told, the man had been moody and depressed since the
Destruction - but then, who among them hadn't been affected by that
event?  It had been too much, that final loss, knowing his last child
was also a victim of the war.  He had needed something nearer, more
concrete, to blame.
     So the man decided to take it out on him.  Only Omega's unexpected
arrival, he was sure, had kept him alive.  *But Matthan was raving that
she loved me, that I let her down, that I was responsible...*
     His insanity was something else.  Apollo wasn't sure how to
respond or react to the man's accusation.  It left him feeling very
uncomfortable indeed.

* * * * *

     Omega huddled miserably in his bed.  He'd been alone with his
thoughts for far too many centars, thinking of Magdala and Matthan, and
what had happened, and what would never happen.
     He just wanted to get back to his job.  In the Destruction of the
fleet and the Colonies, that had sustained him, kept him going when his
friends were falling apart all around him.  He'd kept his shock and
grief inside, working bleakly on.  Forcing cold hands to do their job
had kept him sane then.
     But now, there didn't seem to be anything he could do.  He
couldn't return to the bridge for at least a secton, and the medics
limited his visitors.  He was supposed to rest.
     *Rest!*  How was he supposed to rest when laughing eyes, a
freckled nose, and a generous smile kept slipping into his thoughts? 
Ad the memory of Matthan's last moments alive kept tearing him apart. 
*How can I rest?*
     "May I come in?"
     He recognized Apollo's voice, and gave his permission with a brief
nod.  *Anything's better than being alone...*
     "Was Starbuck here?" the captain asked, sitting carefully on the
edge of the bed.
     He nodded again, sighing quietly.  "For a centon."
     The two men sat uncomfortably for several centons, neither knowing
what to say, yet each unwilling to be alone with his own thoughts.
     "What was Matthan saying, just before...about Maggi...caring...for
me?"  Apollo finally asked, unable to meet the other man's gaze
directly.
     Omega choked back something bitter as he controlled his reaction
to that question.  He slowly uncurled a clenched fist, trying to find
words.
     Then he realized that this was nothing Apollo had looked for, or
wanted.  What Magdala felt or thought she felt for him - or for any man
- was of her own choosing, just as her decision to become a pilot had
been.  No one could tell her what to do.  She'd always been
strong-minded, stubborn.
     And he knew the tales from back at the Academy, about how cadets
were always falling in love with their instructors, sometimes getting
involved with them to the detriment of both parties.  There had been no
hint of that with Apollo; it wasn't his doing.  There was no reason to
be angry or bitter toward him, as Matthan had been.  There was nothing
that Apollo could have done to change things.
     "He was raving," Omega finally answered, his voice tight and
thoughtful.  "She was his last child, his youngest.  She looked a lot
like her mother.  He's been different since the Destruction, colder,
more remote.  I guess he just needed to blame somebody he could reach
and touch.  The Cylons were too distant, too frustrating to hate for
this.  He needed somebody close.  You were her squadron leader, her
teacher for most of her training.  I guess he just picked you as a
convenient target, and then painted you as evil as he could to justify
it.
     "Don't dwell on it.   It was nothing you did.  You were just
*there.*"
     Apollo stared at the wall, taking a deep, relieved breath.  "So
that's what it was.  Now, they're all gone - Matthan, and his family. 
Monk, and now Maggi, too, his little sister..."
     They shared the silence.

- The End -