Peace and Q A BSG/ST:TNG Crossover Story starring Q By Tice Leonard The sleek Vipers cut the stars as they raced toward their target. Four of the graceful fighters held a tight formation lead by Captain Apollo. "I've got them. Cylon patrol is breaking right. Boomer, you and Jolly cut over and intercept. Starbuck and I will chase them to you." "I heard that," replied Boomer. He and Jolly pulled out of formation. Apollo and Starbuck hit their thrusters and closed on the six Cylon raider ships ahead. Suddenly the swarm was on top of Boomer and Jolly. Guns blazed all around. It was impossible to do anything but jink, roll, and pray no blast struck home. Boomer came through the ugly melee lined up on a Cylon raider. He was a little close for comfort, but he fired. The Cylon fighter exploded and pelted Boomer's fighter with debris. His stick became sluggish and unresponsive. He felt the ship slowing. "Are you hit?" asked Jolly. "Yes," said Boomer. "Frack! I flew right into that like a rookie." "Sit tight, Boomer," said Starbuck. "You've got one right on your tail." Starbuck's fighter sped in for the kill. All Boomer could do was wait and hope. That and curse the designer who had not equiped the Viper with a hindsight device. "You're clear," said Starbuck. "Looks like your left engine is out, and your turbolaser generator is smashed. Go up high, and we'll cover you." "No," ordered Apollo. "You're a sitting duck alone. They're coming back for another pass. I'll be there in a micron." Even as Apollo said this, he could see the scene unfolding. The lead raider cut hard right, and caught Boomer's tail. Apollo dove hard and fired, but the shots were too late. "Pull up, Boomer!" called Jolly. Apollo hit his thrusters; fired again. The wounded Viper had barely begun to lift its nose when the Cylon fire blasted it from space. A yellow-orange blossom of fire engulfed the craft, then it faded from sight. Apollo's shot hit the Cylon a moment later. The two remaining Cylons broke from battle and headed for home. "My god..." said Starbuck. "Blue Squadron," said Apollo coldly. "Let's go home." The three Vipers turned and headed back toward the _Galactica_. Boomer's memorial service was short and heartfelt. When it was over, Apollo found himself sitting alone on an observation deck, nursing a mug of warm ambrosa. He was staring out at the stars. A few twinkled, like fixtures with loose light bulbs. Apollo zeroed in on one, and lost himself for a moment. His mind felt as black as the infinite emptiness of space. "What a horrible thing - death," said a voice behind him. Apollo snapped to, stood up, and turned to face the intruder. A tall man with teased black hair stood behind him wearing a long white flowing robe. The man was looking at Apollo. "Who are you?" Apollo asked. The man stepped forward and extended his hand. "Call me Q." "Q?" asked Apollo as he cautiously shook the man's hand. "That's an odd name." The man leaned back. "You're one to talk, 'Apollo.' Named for a mythic hero?" Q looked the Captain's face over and shook his head. "Ajax, or perhaps Achilles, but not Apollo." "You're wearing a councilman's robe," said Apollo. "But I've never seen you before." Q waved his hand. "This garb is merely a reflection. It is designed to command your respect. But you have nothing but disdain for the Council of Twelve." "Quite the opposite," said Apollo. "I hold the institution in the highest regard." "But you believe the individual members to be little more than bungling fools," said Q. "All but your father, the great Commander Adama." In a flash of light, Q's clothes changed from the robe to a blue bridge uniform. Q examined the sleeves, and lifted his leg to see the shiney black boots. He tossed the blue cape over his shoulder, and continued. "This should do nicely. But it's rather restraining and stiff." He turned to the left and took two steps. "Now I know where you get it from." Apollo stood dumbfounded. He sat his mug down, and pushed it under the chair with his foot. "Of course," said Q. "Back to the situation at hand." He held his hands to his face and tapped his pointer fingers to his nose. He dropped his hands and looked at Apollo. "A tragedy...Boomer." Apollo turned and leaned against a window support. His sad eyes looked out the window and at some point beyond the stars. "If you could end the war...no," Q moved up right beside Apollo, nearly leaning against him. "If you could erase the war from history...would you?" Apollo started at the possibility. "Of course." "Of course," repeated Q. "The death, the killing, the endless misery..." "The destruction of the colonies," continued Apollo. "A tragedy of legendary proportions," said Q. "A thousand years of war averted as though they had never happened." "A thousand what?" Apollo asked. "Oh, yes," said Q. "A thousand yahrens." Q waved his hands around. "Whatever that is. An inconvenient way to measure time." "What are you talking about - erasing the war?" asked Apollo. "I won't bore myself by trying to explain it," said Q. "Suffice to say that I have the power to alter the course of time." "You can change the past?" "Yes," said Q. "But I believe we've covered this. Do you want to erase the war?" "Yes," said Apollo. Q nodded. "Get ready, Apollo. A thousand yahrens of peace are yours." The gray bulkheads of the _Galactica_'s observation deck dissolved in a brilliant flash of blue light. Apollo found himself lying in a clover-covered feild. He pushed himself up with his elbows. He felt a cool breeze across his arm. He looked down at his chest. He wore a yellow and blue tunic, tan trousers, and leather sandles. He felt strange, yet refreshed to be out of the brown warrior's uniform. He couldn't help but crack a smile. "Are you coming, Love?" asked a female voice. Apollo twitched and caught a fantastically beautiful silhouette amongst the trees which encircled the field. He clammered to his feet, and strained his eyes to focus against the bright sunlight. "Serina?" "You'd better mean Feshal," she said. "Feshal?" She stepped closer and he could see her now. Her eyes were dark green, her hair was long and brown. She smiled at him like a woman in love. Apollo felt his heart skip. "Apollo," said Q's voice inside his head. "Don't you remember Feshal? She's been your wife for ten yahrens." "Ten yahrens?" "Ten yahrens today," said Feshal. She put her arms around Apollo, pressed against him, and kissed him. "Quite a woman," said Q. "What she sees in you I'll never know. She's completely devoted to you and your son." Apollo pushed away from Feshal slightly. She rested her head on his chest. "Boxey?" asked Apollo. "No, Memnon," said Q. "Who's Boxey?" Feshal asked. "Are you alright?" "I'm fine," said Apollo. "I'm just so happy to be with you." "Good save," said Q. Feshal pulled him close. "I remember when you used to talk to me that way." She squeezed him tighter. "Oh, it's been so long." "Yes," said Q. "You've been rather a jerk to her." "All those extra missions, those deep space surveys," said Feshal. "It's like you've been looking for something out there." She wiped her eyes. "But it's okay. I knew I had to share you when we met. I'm just glad you're here now." "Me, too," said Apollo. He put his arms around her and caressed her back. "Come on," said Feshal. She pulled on Apollo's arm. "We've got to get you back to the _Galactica_ for your recertification flight." "I thought we were celebrating our anniversary," said Apollo. Feshal cocked her head and waved a finger in Apollo's face. "Now you know you have to recertify in a Viper before you outship tomorrow. Let's get it over with so you can get back for dinner at your parents' tonight." "Yeah," said Apollo, somewhat bewildered. "Let's go." They strolled through the field toward a small four-wheeled vehicle. Feshal climbed in, and Apollo followed. "Apollo," said Feshal, "I was thinking. Let's go on a moonlight cruise tonight. Just us. Before you go out there for another year." "Yeah," said Apollo. "Let's take the _Rising Star_ to Virgon and back." Feshal reeled at the suggestion. "The _Rising Star_? Apollo, this is our anniversary, not some cheap, tawdry night of..." She softened. She smiled and licked her lips. "Actually, that may be exactly what we need." She started the vehicle and shifted it into forward. "I'll make the reservations while you take care of your business on the _Galactica_." "I'm looking forward to it," said Apollo. "Me too," said Feshal. She drove the ram down a beautiful white-paved road, which led to a somewhat wider thoroughfare. These were the roads you could only see in history books. By the second centiyahren of the war, resourses for this kind of construction had been torn up and remelted into battleships. Roads Apollo remembered were made of a cast rock, concrete like substance. He had never felt a ride so smooth in a ground vehicle. And the cities had changed, too. Capbulon was a booming and gorgeous city. Magnificent buildings grew out of the ground. They blended perfectly from road to the pinnacle a hundred, or two hundred stories up. Apollo had to crane his neck just to look up. Pastel colors dominated. And they flowed from a logical pattern. Passing down one street, you could go from a faint teal to a beautiful shade of magenta. It was as though a rainbow had landed on the ground, and people were living in it. Gone were the steel and glass. What glass could be seen only refracted the star's light and cast a prism effect on surrounding buildings. Apollo felt small and very out of place. He was lost in the wonder and reeling in pleasure. Still, he was lost. Of all the things Apollo had seen so far, the _Galactica_'s landing bay was the only familiar one. Massive open space with a highly polished floor, steam pouring from the vents below the launch tube catapults, the flight crews, and of course the Vipers were the only constants thus far in this quiet new reality he had found. Even his warrior uniform had changed. The big brass snaps were replaced with heavy stel ones, and his familiar blaster was reduced to a slim pistol, similar to a sports shooter. He felt very much underdressed with this tiny gun strapped to his leg. "Apollo!" said someone behind him. The man was a warrior. He held his flight helmet under his arm. He ran up to Apollo. "How was your visit with the family?" "Fine," said Apollo. "Very nice." "Come on," said the man. "This is Martin, your best friend. You can tell me about it." "Well," said Apollo. "It was nice. We're going on the _Rising Star_ after this flight." "The _Rising Star_?" asked Martin. He shook his head and grinned wildly. "You're a dagget, Apollo. You're taking your wife on a drink swilling, card playing pleasure ship?" "Ah, yes," said Apollo. "It's a little adventure." Martin climbed up into his Viper. He turned to his flight cheif and said, "The captain is taking his wife on the _Rising Star_." "You officers are a brave bunch," he said. "My wife would never let me get away with that." Apollo slipped into his ship and donned his helmet. The flight crews cleared and the fighters' canopies closed. The two men sat quietly for a moment. Apollo looked over at Martin, who was looking back at him. Martin spoke, hesitantly. "Vipers three and four to Core command. Ready for launch." "Core command confirms," said the unicom. "Launch when ready." Apollo punched the turbo activator buttons. He heard the whir as the engines ignited. There was a second sound, a high pitched whine as each engine lit. It sounded like it could be a second pulse generator on each motor. "Amazing machine," thought Apollo. Apollo tapped the turbo button, and rocketted down the tube. The accelleration was astounding. Apollo had never felt anything like it. In seconds he was out and clear of the battlestar. At this speed he could be half way to Sagitaria. He cut the thrusters and let the ship coast. "What was that?" Martin asked. "You left me sucking your vapors back there." "Sorry," said Apollo. "I just want to get this flight over with." "I've got you," said Martin. "I'm right behind you." "Actually," said Apollo, who had no idea of how to handle a recertification flight. "I was hoping to follow you." "Follow me?" asked Martin. "Is this because of that mix up with Banser?" "Just lead the flight." "Okay," said Martin. The two fighters swapped positions, and Martin took them through a sweeping turn. "Don't leave out the chatter," said Apollo. "I want to hear every word you'd say to a cadet." "Okay," said Martin. "I'm sorry about Banser. Can we let it go?" "Instructions?" Apollo asked. There was a brief silence. "Any time your squadron is about to out ship, or you've been on furlow for more than three days, you will have to recertify with your squadron leader for flight status," said Martin. "Recertification consists of a launch, some basic maneuvering, and a landing. You've done it a thousand times. It's nothing." "Let's get on with the basic maneuvering," said Apollo. "Why don't we play a game of catch the leader?" suggested Martin. "Better yet, you just try and keep up." Martin tapped his turbos and left Apollo behind. Apollo kicked off after him. They climbed, and rolled ever accellerating into space. Martin nosed over and dove toward the _Galactica_. Apollo raced after him. Martin righted himself, and let Apollo close. As the distance between the fighters clicked off, Martin rolled inverted, pulled back hard on his stick, popped the braking flaps, and punched his turbos. The Viper spun around like a top. Apollo shot past, and Martin stuck on his tail. "Let's call it a draw, Captain," said Martin. "We've got to get you home to the wife." Martin lead the flight back, still chattering like he was escorting a first-time-out cadet on a check ride. The Vipers touched down easily on the deck, and were taken by the flight crews. Martin and Apollo walked toward the locker room. "That was quite a trick back there," said Apollo. "Where did you learn that?" "That was the *maneuver* that won me the combat competition two yahrens back," bragged Martin. "I out flew Gosher with that one." As they walked, a blue-clad colonel stopped them. "Welcome back," he said. "Thank you, Colonel," said Apollo. Martin nodded. "I have some news," he said. "_Galactica_ will not be out shipping tomorrow as scheduled." "Why not?" Martin asked. "The Council is voting right now on downsizing our military forces," the colonel said. "If they decide to, and they will, _Galactica_ will be decommissioned and scrapped." "Our forces would be dangerously low in the face of an attack," said Apollo. "We'd be nearly defensless." "Yeah," said Martin. "Two battlestars won't be enough." "*Two* battlestars..." gasped Apollo. Before the final attack on the colonies, that he remembered, there had been five battlestars and plans for three more. Martin shook his head. "You'll be contacted with reporting instructions," said the colonel. With that he turned and went about his duty. Apollo let his eye wander around the flight deck, sadly. He was going to miss the old girl. Adama's house was vastly different from the one in which Apollo had grown up. This house was several blocks from the other, and had two extra bedrooms. One was Adama's study, and the other was done up for a woman's use. Apollo didn't understand. He, Athena, and Zac had each had their own rooms growing up, but this was beyond those. "Surely you remember your sister, Helen," said Q. "Where did you come from?" Apollo asked. "Here, there, it matters very little," Q leaned back against the wall. "Charming life you have here." "It takes some getting used to, but it's nice," said Apollo. "Funny," said Q. I would have thought you'd miss your life blasting Cylons, of being the famed military hero, of being Commander Adama's son." Apollo smiled. "Not at all. I've got a fine wife, my family and a home." Q nodded. "Your ego will never last. Vanity will win you over." "I think not," said Apollo. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have dinner with my family." Apollo brushed past Q and left him standing in the hallway as he descended the stairs. Apollo couldn't help but stare at the scene. His son Memnon and nephew Frolie were playing a game on the floor while Adama was sketching a landscape. But what caught his eye the most was his brother Zac. It had been five yahrens since he had left Zac's fighter to warn the fleet of the Cylon attackers. Zac had died that day. Yet here he was - a successful financial broker with offices on ten of the colonies. His son was healthy and strong. Apollo shook his head and smiled. Adama stood and picked up a piece of warm bread from his drawing table. "So, Son. How did your flight go?" "It went well, Father," answered Apollo. "I'm recertified, for whatever that's worth." "Did you see Commander Tigh?" Adama asked. "No," said Apollo. "Oh," said Adama. "I was wondering how he would take the news of the council's vote." Apollo shook his head. Feshal came flying out of the kitchen, with a half-emptied glass of ambrosia. "I know I'm going to miss the old ship, even though it's taken my husband from me more times than I can count. But, I am looking forward to having Apollo around for a few more days." Adama smiled, and took a seat in the center room. This was an elaborately decorated room where momentos and odd ends of things decorated every square inch. Old family likenesses dated back several generations. A patchwork quilt hung on one wall, made with pieces of each of Adama's children's baby clothes. A small silhouette picture of _Galactica_ hung near the center of the quilt, along with a framed set of cubits and several books. Apollo strode over to examine the books. He remembered the quilt, but it had been smaller in his memory. The extra daughter must account for the extra size. The books were written by Athena and his new sister, Helen. He reached out and grabbed the largest of Helen's books, _The Mindless Hordes_. "Still haven't changed, Little Brother," said a husky female voice. Helen stepped into the family room. She was tall, and athletically built. She moved with an easy confidence and peace that made her the center of power in the room. "I haven't seen you in forever." She put her arms around Apollo. "No matter what you say," she said, "I did not write that book about Athena. Although she would make the perfect character for a sequel." "Where is Athena?" Apollo asked. "You know her," said Helen. "Ever since she married that actor fellow she's been trying to fit in with that 'fashionably late crowd'." Apollo nodded, and set the book back down. "I'm sorry about the old ship," said Helen. "I think she should at least be kept as a museum. That is such a noble old warrior out there." "I've got a lot of fond memories," said Apollo. "I know," said Helen. "Hello, everyone," said Athena as she and an overdressed man stumbled into the house. "I hope we're not late." "No," said Adama. "Come in. Join the celebration. We haven't all been here in three yahrens." "Hello, Apollo," said Athena. She handed her brother a neatly wrapped present. "Just a little something we picked up on Picon. It's matching neck chains for you and Feshal." Apollo looked up from the still wrapped present as Athena and her man wandered deeper into the house, toward the kitchen. Feshal moved beside Apollo and took the gift. "Like I said, she's perfect for a second book," said Helen. Feshal had worked the box open, and was admiring her chain. "Apollo," she said, "this is exquisite." He helped her put it on. He looked in the box at his chain. It was a thick gold chain that would hang down in the middle of his chest. He quietly tucked it on a shelf and moved into the center of the room. "I'll bet she doesn't even notice if you leave it there all night," said Zac. Feshal laughed. Helen snickered. "Shall we eat?" asked Adama. "Yes," said Apollo. "I'm starved." Athena was already at the table, folding her napkin down in her lap. "That's funny," she said. "I thought you'd be too broken up over the _Galactica_ to eat." Apollo said nothing, but held out the chair for Feshal to take. He sat beside her, and plopped his napkin down. Zac and Helen did likewise, deliberatly the opposite way from how Athena had done it. "So what are you going to do now that you don't have that creaky old battlestar to run around on?" the strange man asked. "I'm sure I'll go on to another posting," said Apollo. "I'm sure," he said. "The military has a way of taking a man and throwing him any which way. What a waste of life. You might end up on some dreary little outpost with the Nomen or something." He shuddered like he had a chill. "I'm sure Apollo will be happy doing what ever his job demands," said Feshal. "We can't all be as lavish as you two." "And that really is too bad," said Athena. "You should see the little house we're rebuilding on the North contenent. Well, it's not so little, really." "Yes," said the strange man. "It was an ancient fortress, but we're renevating it. We plan to throw our anniversary party there. Of course you're all invited. It won't be finished by then, but it will be acceptable." Zac began to laugh, then tried to hide it by coughing, and excusing himself to get a glass of water. Athena paid him no mind. Adama spoke. "So, Boraan, are you and Zac still trying to set up an import company?" "Oh, no," said the strange man. "I don't really think that kind of work is for me. It's far too mundain. Athena and I are just too busy and full of life to be tied down to something like an office job." "Then I guess you haven't finished your next book?" Adama asked of Athena. "No," she said. "It's suddenly quite dull. It's fine for Helen...In fact," she turned her body toward her sister. "You can have the manuscript I started, if you like. Pass it off as yours. I don't mind." "That's very sweet of you," said Helen. "But I've got enough unfinished projects already." Athena shrugged. "Suit yourself. It could be a real winner." An uncomfortable quiet hung over the table. Apollo stood and said, "I think I'll go see what's keeping mother." He tried not to run toward the kitchen. He pushed the door open. Zac and his mother were sitting at the small table in the corner. "You win," said Zac. "Apollo's out first." "Come sit down," said Ila. "There will be time to spend with your sister later." "Does he have to?" Zac asked. She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Be nice, she's still your sister." She looked to Apollo. "But, I didn't say you have to spend a lot of time with her." They all shared a warm chuckle. Apollo took a seat. "Feshal is looking well tonight," said Apollo's mother. "She loves you very much." "I know," said Apollo. "It takes so little from you to make her happy," she said. "Spend some time with her." "Mother," said Zac, "Apollo didn't come her for a marriage lecture." "I'm sorry," said Ila. "It's just that Athena and Janok were so good together, and they just fell apart. Now she's cavorting around with this Boraan..." Zac held her hand. She patted her youngest son's shoulder and stood. "I've stalled long enough. I'd better get dinner out there, and rescue your father from those two." She made her way to the ovens. "Feel free to linger in here as long as you like. Nothing wrong with my boys being fashionably late, too." She carried the meal out into the dining room on a large tray. Apollo's eye fell to his brother. Zac was so much more than the wet-behind-the-ears cadet Apollo had taken on his first and last patrol. This was the take-charge man Apollo had always seen in him. He was a successful businessman. "You went into business with Boraan?" Apollo asked. "No," said Zac. "We never made it past trying to set up the company." "That's just as well," said Apollo. "You wouldn't get anything done with him around." "That's not quite true," said Zac. "I bet he'd throw some great receptions for potential clients." "I'm sure," said Apollo. "And when he's finished drinking the profits, you might break even." "I doubt that," said Zac. "I called off the partnership when I caught his stealing company money." "What?" Zac nodded. "How do you think those two unemployed half-wits can live so high in high society on his acting savings? He took about half a million cubits of capital from the accounts, and blew it on some pleasure yacht." "Did you tell the authorities?" Apollo asked. "No," said Zac. "That would have sent Athena on another depression cycle, and you know how the last one hurt Father." Apollo nodded. "But on to better things," said Zac. "What are you and Feshal going to do with your time off?" Apollo cast a look toward the door. "Between you and Mother, I don't know who is trying to give me a lecture." Zac laughed. "We're taking a cruise tonight," said Apollo. "I thought we might book passage on a larger ship and cruise all he way to Hasari." Zac's face crinkled up, and he recoiled at the suggestion. "Why would you want to go there?" "Hasari is one of the most beautiful planets in the universe," said Apollo. "I think you've had to much to drink," said Zac. "Hasari is a burned out cinder, dead to everything. The Cylons bombed it a thousand yahrens ago." He rested back into his chair. "It might be a good place for a deep star probe, but not a second honeymoon." Apollo swallowed hard. He saw Q's image reflected in a shiney pot that hung on the kitchen wall. The man was smiling smugly. "But we repelled that attack," said Apollo. "We sent a force of ships to stop the Cylons." "And at the last centon they were called back," said Zac. "Surely you must remember that from your primary education." Apollo felt very uneasy. This peace that the colonies enjoyed had come at the expense of an entire race of people. And, the stand the underarmed colonies had taken against the Cylons by sending the force and protecting the Hasaris had been a source of pride for every human in known space. To know that as a people they were capable of such a selfless sacrifice had been enough to carry them through a millennium of war. To know that the war had been averted by allowing the Hasaris to perish was a thorn in Apollo's heart. "You figured it out quite well," said Q. He stood almost in a mist between Zac and Apollo. The room around him seemed frozen. "Your people took the cowardly way out, and look where it got them. This civilization is unparalleled in all of space. Believe me, I've been through all of it." "And the Hasaris are gone?" Apollo asked. "Think nothing of it," said Q. "Races are wiped out every day, some more advanced and forward thinking than the Hasaris." Apollo shook his head. "We can't sit by and let an entire race die." "Oh, Apollo," said Q. "What did the Hasaris ever do for you? Did they ever supply you with military munitions when you fought in a war to protect them? On several occasions they harbored Cylon vessels which attacked you outposts." "After the first invasion, they were occupied," said Apollo. "They never willingly aided the Cylons." "Surely you're not so naive as to believe that rubbish," said Q. "Or should I call it feldergarb?" Q faded from sight, and the room began to move again. "Let's go eat," said Zac. "I think it would do you good." The shuttle left Caprica and moved effortlessly toward a ship in orbit. The _Rising Star_ was just as Apollo remembered it. He had a window seat on the shuttle, and Feshal sat in the seat beside him, pressed up against him. He let his arm slip around her. "You seemed distant at you parents'," said Feshal. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," said Apollo. The Hasaris still bothered him. "The _Galactica_ will be okay," said Feshal. "Maybe you'll get posted to the _Olympia_." Apollo forced a smile and stroked Feshal's shoulder. She was wearing a bright red dress, and red shoes. Her stockings were jet black and a bit flashy. She kept pulling at them, like they itched. Apollo's guess was that the _Rising Star_ was not the elegant ship that he knew, but rather the colonies' equivelant of a cheap motel. This little adventure that he had accidentally planned was a risque' trist with his wife. That was romantic. The shuttle docked with _Rising Star_ and they crossed a gangway into the ship. Yes, it was gawdy. He could smell the faint scent of people. No, really it was quite strong. This was really a different place. The gangway terminated in the main observation gallery which was filled beyond capacity with all sorts of people. Apollo grabbed Feshal's hand and pulled her along with him as he made his way toward an open spot near one corner. Feshal pulled back on Apollo and cracked a sly smile. "Why don't you get me a drink, Captain." She cocked her hip and rested her hand on her right thigh. "I'm feeling a bit dry." Her performance was flawless. Apollo hated to apply the word 'socialator' to this woman, but that's how she was acting, and it was working. The game was on. "Wait right here," said Apollo. "I'll be right back." "Don't be too long," she said. "I might get lonely." Apollo pushed his way toward the bar. His eye scanned the gallery, still sorting out the differences and similarities of this and the other universe. All said, he could get used to this. A view screen hung above the bar, and the volume was just loud enough to be heard over the rumble and chatter. What he saw on the screen knocked his socks off. Serina was conducting an interview. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her. His happiest day was the day of their sealing. She looked younger now than she had then. Perhaps she had done some kind of rejuvination surgery, or perhaps the relatively stress free life in this universe had been even kinder than the other. Either way, she looked good. What he saw next paralyzed him. Boomer stood beside her, dressed from head to toe in a multi-colored robe and a hat. Apparently, he was rich. "...new enterprise?" Serina asked. "I expect this project to ensure that tylium prices will drop by nearly one third over the next three yahrens," said Boomer. "And we will create six hundred new jobs for the people of Gemini." "Filthy liar!" said a man beside Apollo. "He's working those poor slaves to death. I should know. I was a foreman for him for sixteen yahren." "He's got slaves?" Apollo asked. The man laughed. "Yes! They work twenty hour days in the mines with minimal food for sectars at a time. Until they can't go on." Boomer? Apollo's eyes shot back to the screen. He wandered away from the man and ordered his drinks. "Two Picean Sunbursts, please." The server whipped up the drinks in just a micron, and slid them toward Apollo. He dropped three cubits on the bar, and grabbed his drinks. Boomer was still on the viewer. Apollo didn't know what to think, or even if he believed it. Slavery had been legal on the colonies, prior to the war, but it was heavily regulated and not popular. Serina signed off, and another reporter came on. Apollo stared after her for just a second, and turned back toward Feshal. She stood by the large window, with two Ugnan males talking to her. As Apollo approached, he could make out the conversation. "We'll take good care of you," said one. "Very good," said the other. Ugnans were short, ugly,and nasty by human standards. There were no morals in Ugnan society. Do as thou wilst was their creed. As such they revelled in excesses - money, drink, food, and woman, mostly human woman. They used socialators in great numbers, and often abused them. Apollo stepped up his pace. "Thank you, but I'm not interested," said Feshal. "Come on," said the first one. He reached in his pocket for a cubit. "It will be worth it..." "She said she's not interested," said Apollo. "Who asked you?" said the second. "She's with me," said Apollo. He moved beside her and put his arm around her back and onto her thigh. "Wait your turn, human," said the first. "We were just discussing terms." Apollo's free hand slid into his jacket and brushed against his blaster. As a warrior, he was required to be ready. Both Ugnans' eyes focused on the weapon. "What are you, an enforcer?" the second one asked. "A colonial warrior," said Apollo deadpan. "A colonel?" the first asked. "Captain," said Apollo. "Ha! I make more than a colonel!" boasted the first one. "If you don't mind, I'll just take the lady." He reached out and grabbed at Feshal's arm. Apollo unholstered his gun and whacked the Ugnan in the chest with the butt, and looked to the other one. "You were saying?" "Come on," said the bruised Ugnan. "We can find a better woman for a better price." They wandered off, casting Apollo a series of nasty looks. "That was very sexy," said Feshal. "Standing up for your woman in a bar fight." "It wasn't much of a fight," said Apollo. "It never would be with you standing by," said Feshal. "I bet you could stare down fifty Ugnans." "For you, a hundred," said Apollo. Feshal dove in and kissed him wildly. "The way you talk, Captain." "Is that you, Captain?" came a voice from behind Apollo. He turned and looked into the face of Sire Moon. He remembered him from long back. He had been like a second father to him while Adama had been away. He had loved him like an uncle. He had taken it very badly when he died, in a traffic accident when Apollo was only ten yahrens old. "Happy anniversary," said Siress Moon. She was much younger than Moon. She seemed to be Feshal's age. They moved away slightly from the men, and began chatting like sisters. "Heh," said Moon. "I see you still find time to light the fire..." "It's a special day," said Apollo. "Indeed," said Moon. "Ten yahrens. How many women is that?" "Just Feshal," said Apollo. He hoped he was right. Surely the him in this universe wasn't running around on Feshal. "One?" said Moon. "People will talk if they find that out! Just don't get caught, that's my motto." Apollo backed away from the man. He started to feel sick. "Don't worry," said Sire Moon. "I came to play cards. I don't want to interupt my nephew's party. I can still call you my nephew?" "Of course," said Apollo. "Good boy," said Moon. He pulled out a chair at a round gaming table and invited himself to sit. "I hope no one minds..." "Of course not," said a gruff man near Moon. "Sire Moon, is it? Can you afford the table?" "Fifty cubit ante?" Moon asked. "Fine," said the man. Apollo circled the table, to get a better view of the man whose voice was so familiar. The man wore a black cape, and an eyepatch. His golden hair was a dye job, and he dealt cards with a cocky flair. For all this, Apollo would know him in any universe. "Starbuck..." said Apollo under his breath. A lady beside him gasped, and leaned over and whispered in her man's ear. The man slowly moved away, and disappeared into the crowd. "There it is, gentlemen, and ma'am," said Starbuck courtly. "I believe two clusters takes the pot." "And you're under arrest," said a man with a blaster rifle. He stood behind Apollo, and levelled the weapon at Starbuck's head. Apollo was dumbfounded. Starbuck twitched and looked up at the enforcer. "I've got a blaster levelled at Sire Moon's chest. Shoot me, and he dies." "You're bluffing, Starbuck," said the enforcer. He charged his weapon for effect. "Not so fast," said Moon. "Smart man," said Starbuck. "Call him off." Sire Moon snapped his fingers, and the enforcer lowered the weapon. The room grew quiet. Apollo's heart was still in his throat. He watched the enforcer slip one hand in his pants pocket, and pull out a small black device. It looked like a small stun feild generator. Feshal and Siress Moon stood on the other side of the table from Apollo, near Starbuck. They were in the line of fire. Apollo reacted more than thought. He threw his elbow on the unsuspecting enforcer and knocked him to the floor. With one fluid motion, he drew his blaster and held the man at bay. "Starbuck, get out of here!" He was late. The gambler was already running over the table and toward the door. The crowd erupted into chaos. Feshal screamed, and Siress Moon ran to her husband. Apollo backed out of the room after Starbuck. "Wait!" He hollered after his long-time friend. Starbuck was pinned near the shuttle bay. Two enforcers blocked the shuttle. There were no other exits. "Frak!" muttered Starbuck. He knelt behind a transfer crate stowed on the floor. Apollo jumped down beside him. "What was that about?" Apollo asked. "Who are you?" Starbuck asked, pointing his blaster at him. "My name's Apollo." "Thanks for your help back there," said Starbuck. "But I work ALONE." A blast went over their heads. Starbuck popped up and fired, missing cleanly. Apollo rose and fired. "I told you, I work alone," said Starbuck. "Right now you need me," said Apollo. He up and fired again. Starbuck leaned against the crate, drew and blasted the enforcer from the gallery who had followed them. Apollo watched as the man fell dead. This was not supposed to happen in this universe. It was supposed to be a peaceful place. Starbuck charged the shuttle bay, fireing madly at the two horified enforcers. Apollo backed him up, suddenly afraid for his life. "Apollo," came Feshal's voice from behind him. She was running hard, and crying. "What in Hades Hole are you doing?" He waited for her as Starbuck entered the shuttle, closed the hatch, and sealed it tight. Apollo dragged Feshal to the hatch, and pounded on the door. "Let us in." He could read Starbuck's lips, if he could not hear his word. "Alone." The craft detached, and drifted for a moment before firing up, and blasting away. Three more enforcers ran into the hallway and held Apollo under the gun. His mind was too confused to listen to them as they arrested him and Feshal. Apollo sat in shackles beside Feshal. She sat eyes forward, saying nothing. Another prisoner sat beside them. He was bleeding from his mouth and nose. He was drunk and still restless. "Filthy dagget," he said every now and then. Apollo paid him no mind. The guard sat opposite them, in a full set of body armor, with his helmet visor down. His gun was the size of a Cylon blaster. He held it up, propped against his leg. It was a bluff. If he fired that thing in the shuttle, it would cut right through any one of them, and through the shuttle's hull. As far as bluffs were concerned, it was still a good one, though. "I did nothing!" said the drunk man. "Shut up," said the guard. "I did nothing!" repeated the man. "I said shut up." The drunk shifted his feet trying to get comfortable with the shackles holding his hands behind his back. The metal cuffs clinked against the seat as he moved. The guard jumped to his feet and smashed the rifle against the man's face twice. The drunk slumped over on the seat, a new trickle of blood flowed from one eye. His other looked up at Apollo blankly. The guard took his seat. "Are you mad?" yelled Apollo at the enforcer. "He's no threat to you!" "Keep your place, boray," said the guard. "Unless you'd like matching scars." "This man needs medical attention," said Apollo. "Shut up," said the guard. "Shut up." The small shuttle landed directly on top of a little five story building. Apollo and Feshal were carted off toward the exit. No one listened as Apollo screamed about the injured man aboard the ship. Apollo's cuffs were removed, and he was taken at gunpoint to a small office away from the other prisoners. Feshal joined him momentarily. The waiting room was cold, and sterile. He sat with his head hung low. Feshal sat beside him. She still had nothing to say. Apollo jumped to an upright position as the door whished open. The man who entered was a plump, greasy man. He slammed his body down into a chair and scowled at the two prisoners. "In short, I can't hold you," he said. "I'd love to lock you in the mines and leave you there until you die. Starbuck is wanted on every colony, and has a death sentence on most. But, I suspect you know that." Apollo shook his head. "Your father has arranged for your release," said the man. "It must be nice to be above the law. A councilman's son can get out of anything." Feshal took Apollo's hand. "Perhaps when your father is voted out of office, we can finish this matter," threatened the man. "Now just get out." He indicated that they should got through the door. Quickly, they left. "What was that?" Feshal asked. "Are you secretly part of Starbuck's gang?" "I knew him once, a long time ago..." said Apollo. "He saved my life many times." "Oh, I can tell," said Feshal. "He looks like the noble type. I love the way he blasted off without us." She fumed. "He left us TO DIE!" Apollo swallowed hard and continued walking. The enforcement station was not nearly so well kept as the rest of this world. The walls were slightly grimey, and the people were tough and gritty. White lights bleached everything. Even the beautiful Feshal looked sickly in this light. "I just don't know," said Feshal. "I never thought this _Galactica_ thing would get you so riled up." "Let's just go home," said Apollo. "Do you want to pirate a taxi?" Feshal asked, sarcastically. "Let's just go," said Apollo. The warrior's heart broke. Q had called this place a civilization unparalleled in all of space. Perhaps in many ways it was. Perhaps it was more horrible than the war-torn universe he had left. Night on this Caprica was quiet. Apollo could still hear the rams on the street, but gone were the sounds of Viper patrols and military transports supplying the ships in orbit. In short, Apollo couldn't sleep. He got out of his bed, and walked toward the window. This world was beautiful, even at night. The lights rose from the city, reflected on the clouds above, and back down on the Caprican sea. Everything shimmered. "Tough day?" Q asked. Apollo put his finger to his lips and walked toward the hall. Q watched him go. As Apollo closed the door, Q appeared behind him and said, "Can't sleep?" "I thought you said this was the greatest civilization in the universe." "It is!" said Q. "Have you ever seen such magnificent buildings?" "They're just things," said Apollo. "And how do you measure greatness?" asked Q. "By some intangible human quality factor?" "Yes," said Apollo. "You're more primative than I thought," said Q. "I watched an enforcer beat a man to death today," said Apollo. "And nobody bothered to help." Q recoiled. "He didn't die." "Thank the Lords for that," said Apollo. "He's a vegitable, though," said Q. Apollo closed his eyes and sighed. "Relax, Captain," said Q. "It happens everyday." "Not in my world," said Apollo. "Yes, it did," said Q. "Where is the moral outrage?" said Apollo. "These people don't care." "Grow up," said Q. "These people have learned to live with certain compromises. They enjoy the priviledges of a pampered lifestyle at such a little cost." "Does that man think the cost is so little?" Apollo asked. "He was a convicted murderer," said Q. "Was he tried?" Apollo asked. "As a metter of fact, he was," said Q. "At a trial this evening." "After he was beaten?" "What does that matter?" Q asked. "Justice is done. He will be remanded to the state medical facility and live out his existance." Apollo leaned against the wall, and let himself slide down to the floor. "Is anything the matter, Apollo?" "Put it back," said Apollo. "Put what back?" Q asked. Apollo jumped up, grabbed Q by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. "Put it back. Put the universe back the way it was." Q smiled. "Your vanity finally got to you?" "No," said Apollo. "This isn't right. People beaten for suspicion of crime, legal slavery...Sagan only knows what else lurks under the surface." "Do you know what you're asking?" Q said. "I know," said Apollo. "No," said Q as he vanished and reappeared outside of Apollo's grasp. "Do you KNOW what you're asking?" Apollo dropped his arms, and leaned against the wall. "Have you wondered where Helen came from?" Q asked. Apollo stood silent. "Your mother was in town when a Cylon raiding party attacked," said Q. "She was near the center of the attack when it happened. She lost her." "Miscarriage?" Apollo asked. "And of course, if I reverse my 'alterations', Zac will die." Apollo's shoulders dropped. He was drained. "And Feshal," said Q. "Do you know how she will die?" "Don't tell me," said Apollo. "If you're going to ask for her death, you should know." Apollo looked up. His sad eyes focused somewhere beyond Q. "She survived the Cylon attack," said Q. "She burned in a fire when the Cylons came back to clean up the survivors. Oh, she lived for three days. A lot of pain. Death was a final release for her." Apollo wanted to punch Q. He wanted to find his blaster and riddle his body with holes. He wanted to run away from both universes. "Do it, Q," said Apollo. "Put it back." "Lucky day for the Hasaris," said Q. "I still think you're rushing into this." "Okay," said Apollo. "Do you want me to say it's vanity? It's vanity. I need the status. I need to be the son of the commander. I need the war." "Now was that so hard?" Q asked. Apollo flung himself toward Q. And found himself held in check by his Viper's restraining belt. "Are you hit, Boomer?" asked Jolly. "Yes," said Boomer. "Frack! I flew right into that like a rookie." Boomer! He was alive. "Sit tight, Boomer," said Starbuck. "You've got one on your tail." Apollo looked around as Starbuck descended on the raider. Apollo could not yet pick out the one that would get Boomer. "You're clear," said Starbuck. "Look's like you're left engine is out, and your turbolaser generator is smashed. Go up high, and we'll cover you." "No," ordered Apollo. "You're a sitting duck alone. They're coming back for another pass. I'll be there in a micron." He was late. He could see it happening again. The lead raider was cutting right, to snag Boomer's tail. Apollo rolled inverted, pulled back on the stick, popped his braking flaps, and punched his turbos. This Viper was nowhere near as powerful as the enhanced Viper from the other universe, but it spun like a top, and caught the raider's rear. Apollo fired. It seemed to take forever as the shot reached out and cut the Cylon fighter in half. Apollo let out a deep breath that he hadn't even known he'd been holding. The two remaining Cylons broke from the battle and headed off. "Thanks, Apollo," said Boomer. "I thought my number was up." "Nice flying, Apollo," said Starbuck. "Where did you learn that?" "A friend," said Apollo. "I'd like to meet him," said Starbuck. "Thanks, Q," said Apollo. "Blue squadron, let's go home." The four Vipers turned and headed back toward the _Galactica_. The End