Age of Deception - a 'Sum of All Parts' story - written by Carla
June 2, 2019

/There are those who believe, that life here, began out there, far across
the universe, with tribes of humans who may have been the forefathers of
the Egyptians or the Toltecs or the Mayans. Some believe that there may
yet be brothers of man who, even now, fight to survive somewhere beyond
the heavens.../

Scene One

     She walked in the manner of one who was lost in thought, idly moving
through the crowd and smoke of the Officers' Club, though the restriction
explicit in the name of the establishment was rarely observed. Those of
enlisted rank beyond Cadet status shared furlon time with those who gave
them orders during the cycling shifts of active duty. This had been the
norm since the Galactica had begun its journey away from the Twelve
Colonies, beyond the Planet Kobol, to seek out the fabled home of the
Thirteenth Colony, the shining blue planet called Earth. This was a part
of the lore that had been passed down to her, taught to her in Learning
Cycles, then shown to her in archived images and snippets of sound from
fragments of rescued data-storage crystals, including those from the time
of the Destruction of the Twelve Colonies and the sorrowful farewell of a
traumatized rag-tag convoy of refugees, fleeing their home-worlds and
losing almost everything that they had known, including many of those
that they had loved. These materials had been meticulously preserved by
experts found within the population of the Fleet, for future generations,
to be kept with respect to the dead and the lost, and to be used as a
warning from history to classes of fresh-faced Warrior cadets, and told
with that great, deep voice of authority tempered by warmth, told to her
by her grandfather on those evenings after family dinners, or those days
when she and her siblings had been permitted to ascend the steps to the
Command Platform where Officer Omega would look the other way as she had
studied the star maps on the monitor mounted in the console next to the
Command Station, her child's eyes wide with wonder as she had stood
transfixed beside her grandfather's chair.
     "Artemis," she turned at the sound of the low-pitched, slightly
monotone voice that had spoken her name to look upward into the face of
the tall, blonde man that had quietly appeared at her side. This was his
usual way of speaking, but he began to speak now with an added layer of
emotion that matched with the inviting gleam of his grey-blue eyes and
slightly crooked smile, an expression that he almost exclusively saved
for those moments when he was alone with her. His youthful appearance,
and the bright silver insignia that he wore at his throat, contrasted
sharply with the long, tailored black coat and slightly flared black
trousers that seemed to fluidly merge with what showed of his shining
black boots and the matching, fitted gloves that he now wore over his
elegantly long-fingered hands, "it would appear that we have arrived
early."
     "It's alright, Kedron," she smiled and took his arm, gently
directing him toward the open hatchway near the end of the bar, "Mother
isn't here yet, so the birthday party hasn't officially started anyway,"
she stepped with him over the threshold and into another, larger chamber
beyond the Club, often requested by pilots in particular for special
events such as birthdays or send-offs, "She was very insistent that I
bring you with me tonight, after the family party," Artemis spoke with a
slightly dry edge to her musical tone, leaning in closely, her eyes
blinking slowly at the slight downward motion of his head as he brushed
his lips with a light, whisper of a touch against her temple, "I would
warn you that Father isn't so keen, but I think you already know."
     "He shall simply have to become resigned to the sight of the two of
us together," Kedron spoke in what many in the Colonial Fleet had called
a hypnotic tone, a way of speaking that was common among his people, some
of them telepaths who had been unaccustomed to speaking aloud for any
sustained periods of time before they had joined with the Colonial Fleet
and found themselves among other humans who were not accustomed to living
with telepaths at all. In fact, many of the Colonials had feared him when
the two groups had first begun to interact and the two Fleets had
gradually merged into one. The Horacians, particularly those telepaths
among the Kobollian Priests like Kedron, often exhibited a singularity of
speech that was precise and deliberate, resulting in a rather mechanical
way of speaking, with no clearly discernible accent or colloquial
cadence, a sort of amalgam of language condensed into a tone resembling
that of one who was formal in speech, one who might be speaking in a
language that was not native to them, and assuming a posture that
presented them as quietly thoughtful with their words. This was Brother
Kedron's usual manner, though he currently revealed a great deal more
warmth of expression than was his habit as the two young Warriors stood
together in the large, still otherwise unoccupied banquet area where
Major Sheba's birthday celebrations were soon to begin, "Colonel Apollo
has his own girl to bring to the party," Kedron's crooked smile revealed
a momentary flash of white teeth as he spoke, his hands moving to rest
upon her shoulders, "and I am here with mine. That will not change unless
you decide that it will, and I will be here for the duration of the
journey."
     "I know," Ensign Artemis laughed, her glittering green eyes catching
reflections of flickering light from the candles that illuminated the
copiously decorated tables, loaded heavily with various types of food and
drink and randomly placed about the perimeter of the large chamber. She
placed her palms briefly against the smooth lapels of his coat, feeling
the solid muscles of an athlete through the thick material, the sleeves
of her own crisp dark blue Bridge Officers' tunic rustling softly as she
moved ever closer to him. The long black hair fell from her face and she
felt his grasp upon her shoulders tighten gently, "Father will eventually
accept the fact that you and I are taking this journey together...all the
way to Earth."

Scene Two

     "Are you certain that you won't have another piece of cake, my
dear?" Commander Adama smiled with satisfaction as he dabbed at his lips
with a napkin, "I must say that our lovely Athena has not lost her touch
with a baked dessert over these many yahrens of managing with a regular
lack of variety in the ship's stores," Adama nodded with exaggerated
deference, sharing a loving glance and a moment of levity with his
dark-haired daughter from across the large dining table before returning
his attention to the face beneath the mane of honey-streaked brown that
occupied a seat of honour at his right-hand side, to face the
daughter-in-law to whom he had been speaking, "Sheba, I hope that you've
enjoyed our little gathering," the white-haired warrior gestured toward
another table-mate to his left, "Tigh and I are a little long of tooth,
and slow to recover from excess to risk attending the festivities below
decks, and I am very pleased that you've spent this first part of the
celebration here with the family."
     "You're trying to fatten me up with desserts, Adama," Sheba's
laughter was uncharacteristically free from her usual undercurrent of
restraint, fueled by the generous portions of ale and ambrosa that had
come her way since the evening had begun, "I wouldn't be able to rise
from my seat if I'd eaten all that you've put on offer this evening."
     "Everyone is very happy to see you enjoying your birthday," Colonel
Apollo interjected as he moved to join the group still sitting at the
dining table, having stretched his legs and retrieved a fresh bottle of
ambrosa from the beverage cart near the small sitting area that occupied
the corner of the chamber beneath the ovoid view-port. Sheba's eyes
caught the image of the Battlestar Pegasus as it appeared to hang
motionless in space, framed by the perimeter of the view-port, keeping
pace with the Galactica while the two sister ships led the Fleet
together, ever forward, making their way, kilo-metron by kilo-metron,
guiding their precious cargo, the brothers of man who had joined with
Adama and his crew on the exodus from the Colonies a little more than
some twenty yahrens ago. Apollo's gaze moved with hers as he refilled her
chalice and set the bottle down cautiously amidst the remains of the
dinner that still settled in their stomachs, leaning down to whisper in
her ear and hold her slender shoulders in his gentle grasp, "I know how
difficult this day can be when so many seats are unoccupied."
     "It's alright, Apollo. I'm fine," Sheba placed a steady hand over
one of his, turning to glance upward into his watchful, green gaze,
smiling at the sight of the thick, dark hair that softened the look of
compassion and concern that he gave to her, "Father would tell me to
celebrate, to be glad that I'm here, after all that we've been through,
with more to be grateful for than I ever would have expected. He'd tell
me to lift an offering for him and then go to the party, and have a
wonderful time with my friends," Sheba's free hand reached for the small
chalice that Apollo had filled for her, lifting it in a gesture of
tribute toward the view-port and its virtual occupant, the Battlestar
that her father had proudly commanded until the force of his powerful
will had finally succumbed from exposure to the oddly mutated
electro-magnetic radiation that had sapped his vigour and ended his life
so soon before his time. The Pegasus had then been handed over into the
trusted care of Adama's long-time Executive Officer, Tigh, a trusted
officer who was more family than friend after all these yahrens, who sat
now, lifting his own glass in turn, listening intently as Cain's daughter
spoke, "he would tell me to honour him with my remembrance and my love
for him, and then he would tell me to stop dwelling on emotional
felgercarb and go and have some gall-monging fun," the members of the
private party that had remained to finish their drinks before taking
their leave of Commanders Adama and Tigh, all shared in her sudden
laughter and joined in her toast to the Living Legend that had left his
indelible mark on all of them in one way or another while he had been a
part of the Fleet in the flesh, and even now when he had been gone from
this life and moved on to the next, absent now from the family table
since Sheba's eldest daughter had been barely a yahren and a half, "he
would tell me to be happy on my birthday," Sheba took a slow and
deliberate sip of the thick amber liquid, accepting a hand from Apollo as
she set down her now empty chalice and rose to her feet. She took one
more look at the Battlestar upon which she had been slated for assignment
with her Father's crew from the time that her service as a Warrior Cadet
had begun at the age of sixteen yahrens, until the day that she had
abruptly begun her new life aboard the Galactica, "he would tell me to be
happy...and I shall be."

Scene Three

     "Hey! Missy!" Artemis cringed at the use of the moniker that had
plagued her from childhood, a lisping variation of her name that had
emerged from the lips of her two younger sisters when they, twins who had
often exhibited their own sometimes startling means of private non-verbal
communication, had struggled together in toddlerhood with their early
attempts at spoken language. Her face projected a dark glower toward the
source of the annoyance, "Sorry, Artemis," the slight blonde girl in the
uniform of a Colonial Warrior Cadet smiled impishly, the flash of her
teeth and the glint in her crisp blue eyes making clear to her friend
that her use of the hated nickname had been obviously deliberate, "I know
I shouldn't call you that, but the look that it evokes on your face..."
Artemis smiled in spite of her efforts to maintain a stern expression,
crossing her arms and sighing with mock resignation as the younger girl
continued, leaning in close with a conspiratorial posture, her tone
adopting a more subdued cadence as the two young women shared a private
moment in the midst of the now dimly-lit and chaotically crowded banquet
room, debris, most of it comprised of shredded streamers of the colourful
table decorations, strewn casually over the floor in an ankle-high wave
of rustling paper as the sounds of the celebration blended into a dull
roar around them, "So, where is he?"
     "Who? Ensign Artemis assumed a mocking posture of ingenuousness,
blinking her long lashes in an exaggerated posture of innocence,
uncrossing her arms and reaching for a bottle of ale from the ice-filled
basin atop a nearby table, opening it with a swift downward movement,
catching the lid on the table's edge and retrieving the small, now-dented
metal disc that arced through the air in front of her with a smooth sweep
of her free hand. She passed the now-open bottle to her companion,
discarding the lid and reaching for another fresh bottle to repeat the
maneuver, lifting her own bottle and clinking it against that of her
friend, the two of them sharing a casual toast as they each downed a
generous portion of the smooth, chilled ale.
     "You know very well 'who'," the blonde girl giggled as the ale made
its way down her throat leaving her with a sensation of warmth, the
beginnings of a creeping alcoholic flush that she welcomed with youthful
anticipation as her sharp eyes scanned the banquet room, now as crowded
and smoke-filled as the busy Officers' Club had been. Indeed, the party
had barely begun and already the crowds in the two adjacent chambers had
begun to merge through the nexus of the hatchway beside the bar, the
general population of the drinking establishment over-flowing through the
main hatchway like the ebb and flow of a planetary tide, like those that
she and the other children of the Colonial Fleet had studied in Learning
Cycle, their parents insistent that the planet-bound history and natural
states of their home-worlds should never be forgotten, and that their
space-born offspring would have some reference to understand the ways and
the longings of the elders who sometimes spoke sadly of missing that
feeling of the ground beneath their feet, of being rooted in a home in
one discrete area of space, rather that moving into adulthood having
known only the interiors of the Fleet's varied ships.
     "He's gone through to the back to see about holding a table for
Mother until she arrives," Artemis sighed, grudgingly allowing her
younger friend a warm look of affection, "The barman said that Uncle
Boomer grabbed a tray of drinks earlier, so he's here somewhere. I'm
guessing that he might have set something up already, though it's
difficult to spot /anyone/ in this crowd," the two young women shared
another wave of a toast and each downed another ambitious gulp of the
frosty cold ale, the temperature of the soothing liquid at odds with the
warmth that now began to slightly fog their perceptions, "I don't think
anyone realized how big this party would be," Artemis sighed, brushing
back her long, thick black hair with an absent sweep of her free hand, a
slight frown crossing her smooth dark features and momentarily clouding
her glinting green eyes, "there are people here from all over the Fleet.
This might not have been the best way to bring my Father and Kedron
together over a casual drink," she grimaced, her lips pursing with a
gesture that she had inherited from Apollo, whether by genetics or by the
tendency of a child to observe and adopt some aspects of a parent's
demeanor or disposition, "Considering the large quantity of ambrosa that
was flowing over dinner in Grandfather's quarters, I don't know that
Daddy is going to be at his best." Artemis' companion placed a
conciliatory hand on her shoulder as the two shared an expression that
spoke only to that particular group of children whose parents made up a
large segment of the Fleet's command structure, a group that had grown to
act as support for one another, not quite fitting in with the rest of the
children in Learning Cycle, but too young until the age of independent
decision, when they would reach their sixteenth yahren, to make their own
place as entities more separate from the legacy that they had inherited
from each of their family houses.

Scene Four

     "Watch your step, Cass," Captain Starbuck stiffened his arm, taking
the weight of his companion as she stumbled over a small object on the
deck plate below her booted foot, the three-centron heel losing its
purchase as it turned over, her ankle saved from injury by the
instinctive reaction of Starbuck's battle-trained reflexes, 'What
the...what /is/ that?" He made certain that Doctor Cassiopeia's balance
had been fully regained, then bent down to scoop up a small ovoid-shaped
pendant, its finish that of a fine auricon alloy. The long and
intricately engraved chain to which the pendant was attached hung like
flowing yellow lava over his fingers as he squinted to make out the
markings on the front of the ovoid, "It looks sort of familiar, like
something from one of Adama's ancient text translations...I think that
I've seen this before somewhere..."
     "Just put it in your pocket for now, Starbuck," Cassiopeia barely
glanced at the trinket in her husband's hand as she stepped gingerly on
the heel that had turned beneath her, testing her balance, confirming to
her satisfaction that her ankle was uninjured and that the structure of
her boot-heel was still intact, "we'll see if anyone is missing it later,
after the party. One of the Valkyries probably lost it on the way in."
     "Yeah, you're probably right, Cass," Starbuck wrapped the chain
carefully around the pendant and tucked it into the small utility pocket
that had been stitched into the sleeve of his dress uniform tunic, "When
the owner discovers it missing, I'm sure we'll find out where it
belongs," he pulled her close to him, renewing his firm grasp on her arm,
"Don't fear my lovely fairy queen, I shall escort you to the ball in
safety," his gently mocking tone brought a bright smile to her face, her
blue eyes sparkling in the variable lighting of the corridor outside the
main entrance to the Galactica's Officers' Club.
     "Don't speak so quickly, my hero" Cassiopeia's tone became slightly
drier as she gestured toward the large queue of party-goers, moving like
an enormous serpent, twisting to accommodate the large flow of foot
traffic moving from the corridor and then through the large hatchway to
work its way steadily onward through the second hatchway and into the
banquet room and the birthday celebration beyond.
     "Hey, you guys! Looks like the party may have started without us!"
Athena's voice prompted a turn of each of their bright, blonde heads as
Bojay and Athena approached from behind them, their crisp dress uniforms,
hers of deepest blue and silver, and his a match for Starbuck's,
differing only in his ship's insignia designation. The two of them had
followed the familiar path from the Commander's quarters to the corridor
along which they now walked, arm in arm, as Starbuck and Cassiopeia had
done, to join the other couple, the four of them pondering the size of
the queue, "Should we try another entrance?" Athena bit down thoughtfully
on her lower lip, surveying the scene of organized chaos before them, as
though studying a fractile equation on the Bridge of the Battlestar
Pegasus, the ship upon which she had served as Bridge Officer since
before Colonel Tigh had become a Commander and taken control of the
battle-scarred ship and its mourning crew, winning them over and helping
them to grieve with his firm grasp of command and his steadfast
confidence in and loyalty to the crew that the Living Legend had
bequeathed to his care, "Maybe we can see if the maintenance entrance
is..."
     "What are you all doing, standing in the...oh," Sheba's face
registered rank surprise as she blinkingly took in the still moving,
still apparently endless, chain of human forms, almost insect-like in
their communal movement toward the nexus of the hatchway, "I guess we all
should have left the private party sooner," Sheba turned to Apollo who
stood bemused at her side, surveying the moving mass of human forms that
currently congested the three couples' intended route, "shall we wait for
a centon or two and..."
     "What?" Apollo stirred from his reverie to smile, albeit a bit
drunkenly, into the face of his wife, "Wait? It's your birthday. It's
your party. There's only one way to handle this!"
   "Another entrance?" Athena asked.
   "Maybe we could go through the barracks," Starbuck posited.
     "Nope," Apollo took hold of Sheba's hand, pulling her forward,
directly toward the roiling human serpent of well-wishers, "come on
everybody," the Colonel gestured to the other four members of the
hesitant group, "we use something that is only appropriate for an
emergency like this..." he led the group forward, clearly moving directly
toward the still-congested hatchway.
     "What's the emergency strategy, Buddy?" Starbuck held tight to
Cassiopeia's arm, his face clearly projecting his confusion at Apollo's
potential strategy to overcome such an intimidating queue, "are we going
to stun them all with a few laser pistol blasts? That's what I figure it
will take for the six of us to get through /there/ in one piece each."
     "Nope," Apollo repeated in the same mischievous tone, "we use
something so concentrated that it should only be implemented as
infrequently as possible."
     "I give up," Starbuck laughed, clearly entertained by Apollo's
uncharacteristically casual demeanor, enjoying the sight of his
habitually serious friend loosening his normally more rigid posture for
that of a man who was out to have fun, that desire fueled slightly by the
beverages that had been flowing into tankards and chalices, and mugs of
all descriptions since Adama and Tigh, along with Commander Kellen of the
Battlestar Horace, had released all non-essential crewmen and support
workers to end their shift cycles early and attend Major Sheba's open
birthday celebration, "I give up, Buddy. What's your secret weapon?"
     "Nepotism, Starbuck!" Apollo laughed delightedly as he urged the
group forward and shouted into the crowd that seemed to magically part
before him, opening a pathway directly through the hatchway for Sheba,
and her giggling entourage, to cut through the massive queue with the
ease of a hot blade through a package of frozen mushies, "Make way!" he
commanded in the deepest, most ringing tone that he could muster, "Make
way for the birthday girl! She's coming through!"
     The six friends made their way through the hatchway and onward
toward the banquet chamber, shrugging with the slightest embarrassment at
their obvious display of privilege, yet stopping short of a principled
stand against Apollo's uncharacteristic behaviour, instead following his
lead and stepping quickly forward as the crowd moved as one to close
ranks behind them, resuming the forward progress of the human coil
through which Apollo had verbally sliced. 

Scene Five

     "Are you going to spend the whole party sitting between your secret
lover and your /parents/?" Artemis' companion was now feeling the full
effect of a quickly downed bottle of ale, "Uncle Boomer was telling my
dad that your mother practically ordered you to bring him here tonight.
Is she going to try and force Uncle Apollo to be nice to him?" the petite
blonde giggled happily at the sight of her friend's obvious discomfort,
her usual charming manner slightly hardened and distorted by the
alcoholic haze that had begun to take collective hold of the occupants of
the banquet chamber, "He's not afraid of...?"
     "Afraid of what?" the small blonde started, turning to face the
source of the quiet, low-toned voice that had seemed, somehow, to have
by-passed her ears and resonated directly within the confines of her
skull, "oh...I...I...I didn't see you coming..."
     "Kedron, you know Laurette, don't you?" Artemis had failed at even a
minor attempt to conceal her amusement at her friend's now brightly
flushed face, giggling involuntarily as Senior Cadet Laurette stammered
clumsily and took three stumbling steps backward, the added distance
between herself and the tall Warrior Priest still insufficient for the
diminutive young woman to look directly into his impassive face without
peering upward with a generous tilt of her slender neck, her face
exhibiting a look akin to a small mammal having been caught off-guard by
a substantially larger creature, uncertain as to whether to flee or to
continue with her efforts to speak.
     "We have encountered one another on numerous occasions, though I do
not recall having been formally introduced," Brother Kedron looked
downward with a small trace of the crooked smile that Artemis had come to
know so well, one corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly at the
plight of the embarrassed young woman who stammered and back-stepped
before him, holding his piercing blue-grey gaze with her own, struggling
to regain her equilibrium.
   "Um, yeah, we uh...we were both working on the agro-ship re-fit during
the same shift rotation last secton, but...um...well, I don't imagine
that you remember me from..."
     "I remember you, Cadet," the sharp featured face moved downward,
bridging the distance between them as he reached forward, his gloved
fingers firmly grasping the small hand that clumsily balanced a
near-empty bottle of ale, "careful, you were about to spill..." Kedron
gently released her now steady hand and moved in a fluidly graceful
maneuver to stand beside Artemis, subtly placing a that same gloved hand
against the small of the Bridge Officer's back, a rare public display of
affection that sent a small rush of warmth up the length of her spine,
"your parents are about to arrive," the two young women followed Kedron's
gaze, turning to watch as the crowd struggling through the main entrance
suddenly seemed to part, leaving a momentary opening through which
Apollo, Sheba and their four companions emerged, moving together across
the large chamber as the crowd closed organically behind them.
     "I'm not sticking around, and I suggest that you two get away from
/that/ group as soon as you can. Come join me on the other side of the
chamber. Boxey's reserved a few tables over there for some of the Junior
Officers and crewmen to escape from the senior crowd," Laurette downed
the last of her recently rescued drink, tossing the bottle toward a
nearby recycling canister and bracing herself for the approach of the
group that included both of /her/ parents as well as those of Artemis.
     "Here they come," Artemis spoke with a slight tinge of anxiety which
dispersed in a moment with a gentle press of Kedron's hand against her
back, "Kedron, please try not to make him angry..."
     "Let's see what happens," Kedron's face revealed nothing to anyone
but Artemis, who had come to read his small changes of expression quite
accurately over the course of their recently revealed relationship.
     "Don't pick a fight," Sheba warned as Apollo locked eyes with the
young Warrior-Priest, each of them sizing up the other from across the
smoke-filled space of the banquet chamber...

Scene Six

     "Another splash of ambrosa before we call it a night?" Commander
Adama beckoned his fellow Commander to follow him, a still dusty bottle
and two small tumblers in his hands, I have managed to acquire a very
special bottle from the stores down in Lambda Section," Tigh and Adama
settled comfortably into the generously upholstered chairs that stood
like two silent sentinels flanking a small ornately carved table, atop
it, a simple silver serving platter upon which Adama portioned out a
liberal amount of the strong amber liquid, settling the bottle onto the
flat silver tray. Tigh accepted the proffered drink from his old friend
and Commander, leaning back into his seat, extending his long, elegant
legs, resting his booted feet upon a nearby stool, and downing a
substantial gulp.
     "Lambda Section," Tigh smiled wryly, his dark brow furrowed as he
idly regarding the splashes of coloured light that refracted through the
cut glass structure of the tumbler in his hand, "You've still got the
same people down there?"
     "Things haven't completely changed since you've been gone," Adama
chuckled, his deep brown eyes regarding his friend fondly, "except now I
have to go down there myself. It's not as if I can comfortably send
Apollo or Sheba down to...shall we say, /lubricate/ the gears of
commerce?" The two Warriors laughed contentedly, settling even more
deeply into the soft comfort of the fabric beneath them, a fabric worn
smooth over yahrens of gatherings. Some had been formal events involving
seemingly endless points of pageantry and diplomatic protocol, others
like this, an opportunity for a quiet moment to commune with old friends
and colleagues, for Tigh and Adama to briefly let go of their awesome
responsibilities for a few centars on a rare occasion such as this one,
to sit silently and remember other times and other places, faces that had
come and gone, some of them having sat in this very chamber, aboard the
Battlestar Galactica. A ship that had been home to these two war-weary
men for most of their adult lives.
   "You seem to be doing alright for yourself, Adama," the two tumblers
came together with a /clink/ as the friends raised their drinks to one
another and downed the contents, "but I can see not wanting to send your
own children on a.../reconnaissance/ mission down on the lower decks,"
Tigh placed his glass on the tray beside the bottle and knitted his long,
graceful fingers together, his clasped hands resting comfortably over his
stomach, the effects of the heavy food and copious drink over the last
several centars contributing to a warm drowsiness that embraced him like
a thick, soft blanket.
	"We are indeed quite fortunate in many ways, you and I," Adama
reached for the bottle, once more filling both tumblers nearly to the
rim, "Were it not for Commander Kellen, the two of us would not be nearly
so free to enjoy an occasion such as Sheba's forty-sixth yahren. Without
the third Battlestar Commander to relieve us, we'd have instead been
likely to have been bemoaning our fate together through two separate
Bridge monitors over the alpha channel."
   "Yes, it certainly does make a difference having three Battlestars
rather than two. The logistical advantage alone is incalculable, and
Commander Kellen..." Adama's brow lifted as Tigh accepted the second
proffered libation.
     "Commander Kellen has been working with you on those retro-fits for
the Agro-ships," Adama's words might have seemed like a simple statement
of fact to one who did not recognize his slight change of tone, but to
Tigh, the comment came across as more of a question, "She /is/ a rather
formidable woman, is she not?" Adama smiled into his drink at the subtle
expression of discomfort that momentarily crossed the other man's dark,
cat-like features.
     "She is...a very.../competent/ and effective leader," Tigh's own
tone now took on an affectation of one who is quite eager to hide his
emotions, "She is...a valuable addition to the Fleet's command
structure," Tigh's normally mellow voice rose slightly in pitch as he
coughed self-consciously and lifted his glass to his lips once more.
     "Yes indeed," Adama laughed quietly, taking the sort of sadistic
pleasure in Tigh's discomfort that only a dear friend of many yahrens of
shared struggles and shared victories could do, "I expect that you'll be
dragging out...er..." the Commander coughed quietly, not in discomfort as
Tigh had done, but in an ostentatious manner that told his friend that
his choice of wording had been nothing but deliberate, "I expect that
you'll need to take a few more sectons to make certain that those
retro-fits are.../compatible/."
     "Adama..." Tigh's voice took on a tone of gentle warning that Adama
knew well, "I really don't think that it's /my/ associations that you
should be concerned over tonight," Tigh knew full well that Adama was not
fooled by this smooth shift in subject, but he persevered nonetheless,
"You do know that scuttlebutt has it that Sheba has arranged for Artemis
to bring that new boyfriend of hers to the party below decks. If you
think that Kellen is formidable, that young Kobollian Priest is not far
behind her, his tender age notwithstanding."
     "Yes, Tigh" Adama sat in silence, relenting in his gentle teasing of
his oldest friend, the rim of his glass pressed lightly against his lower
lip as his gaze settled absently upon the nearby shelf that housed, among
other precious mementos, a framed image of Colonel Apollo, Adama's eldest
son, a man who had assumed his rank as Executive Officer with the
solemnity of a soldier, but had never lost that core of raw emotion and
passionate principle of his youth, his tendency to be hot-headed at times
still there, close to the surface, ready to appear when the dark-haired
Colonel was faced with a particularly stressful situation, "Let us hope
that the festivities below decks do not get out of hand," the two
warriors shared a moment of soft laughter and once more raised their
glasses in a wordless toast, settling into their chairs and reveling
together silently, enjoying every micron of a rare, and all too brief,
period of freedom from the duties that would beckon them back to their
respective posts, when the morning duty cycle was due to begin, much too
soon for the both of them.

Scene Seven

     Starbuck was the first to break away from the group of six that had
navigated the temporary space cleared by Apollo through the roiling crowd
at the entrance to the banquet chamber. The blonde Captain strode quickly
across the chamber, moving ahead of the others to approach Cadet
Laurette, "You kids sure didn't waste any time getting down here after
dinner..."
   "No offense, Daddy," Laurette moved forward, jumping upward to squeeze
Starbuck's neck, cutting off his words with a brief, yet firm embrace of
her deceptively wiry arms, then kissing him quickly on the cheek before
releasing her grip and sliding lightly to touch her feet once more to the
decking below them, "I'm always happy to see you and Mother, but I just
don't feel right about attending a below decks party with my /parents/,"
the impishly grinning Cadet jabbed a quick, conspiratorial elbow into
Artemis' ribs, then blew an exaggeratedly affectionate kiss toward
Cassiopeia, and waved a jaunty farewell as the rest of Starbuck's group
arrived from across the chamber to form a rough semi-circle to face the
three younger party-goers, "'bye Mummy, have fun, don't drink too much,"
Cassiopeia sighed laughingly, and laid a comforting hand upon Starbuck's
arm, giggling merrily at his aggravated expression, her head tilted in
mock sympathy at her husband's chronic inability to out-maneuver their
often incorrigible young daughter. Laurette rushed away, the bright
golden curls disappearing into the crowd that surrounded the group of
eight who now stood together near the small drinks table.
     "Oh, Starbuck," the Doctor admonished, gently squeezing the fabric
of his light brown sleeve, "she /is/ seventeen now, and you /must/ try to
be a little less overbearing with her," two sets of bright blue eyes
shared a moment of clarity, as Captain Starbuck and his wife exchanged a
lifetime of words in a moment, both sharing an expression of contentment
that neither could have ever imagined in their younger, most difficult
days, "she's not going to react well to you ordering her around. Let the
kids have their part of the party. Laurette is quite capable of taking
care of herself. She is /your/ daughter, after all. And, in case you've
forgotten, /you/ are out with /me/ tonight," Starbuck laid his hand over
hers, holding the delicate fingers against his arm for a moment. He then
turned to address the assembled group at large, "has anyone found us a
table, yet?"
   "There is a table reserved for Major Sheba's party," at the sound of
Brother Kedron's mellow monotone, the entire group started in an almost
comical way that brought a small sputtering cough of laughter from
Artemis' lips, "Happy Birthday, Major," the tall young man in black bowed
gracefully in Sheba's direction, his hand still conspicuously placed at
the small of Artemis' back, his gloved fingers clearly brushing the
fabric of her dark blue tunic, a silent message that the others took in
exactly the way in which it had been intended, and resulted in all eyes
darting to glance at Apollo, the group uncertain of his expected reaction
to this daily cycle's recent revelation that this young man had been
involved with the Colonel's eldest daughter for at least six sectars
without the knowledge of the young Bridge Officer's arguably
over-protective father.
     "I'm so happy that you could get away from work to join us for a
while, Kedron," Sheba moved forward with a speed that spoke of her
athletic prowess, and reached to grasp the young man's lapel, stretching
to balance on her toes as she planted a firm kiss on his cheek, silently
communicating with a long deep look into his icy blue-grey eyes that she
was his best ally in this dance of social niceties that she intended to
pursue with the hope of preventing a conflict between Apollo and this
young usurper who had stepped from the shadows unseen and, according to
the less profane of Colonel Apollo's words to his wife earlier that day,
during what she had called a 'completely explosive meltdown', had 'taken
advantage of his little girl'. "Apollo," she released her grip on
Kedron's jacket, noting with amusement the uncharacteristic flush of the
young man's normally pale and otherwise impassive face that was the only
sign that her impulsive move to touch his bare skin had slightly jarred
him, a telepath accustomed to distancing himself physically from
non-telepaths for purposes of focusing his concentration during much of
his working duty cycles, "Apollo," she turned to address the Colonel,
whose own expression was one of a man who is attempting to appear jovial
and welcoming, but not quite hitting his mark, "why don't you and Kedron
lead the way," she smiled brightly, silently challenging her husband to
cross her on her birthday, a decision that would not be likely to go well
for him for many daily cycles to come, should he be foolish enough to
try, "we'll follow your lead through the crowd," The Colonel nodded, a
smile with a decided lack of sincerity attempting to alter the posture of
his glowering features.
     "You could have warned me," he muttered into his wife's ear as he
moved to kiss her cheek, assuming a pleasant smile and turning to face
Kedron, the upward glare of his bright green eyes clearly conveying to
the young Warrior-Priest that, despite this apparent moment of truce, the
Colonel was likely to have words for his young daughter's lover, at some
later time, most likely outside the purview of Major Sheba, and possibly
within the confines of a sound-proofed Conference Chamber, "/I'll/ clear
the crowd, /Lieutenant/, and /you/ show the way," Apollo made a point of
addressing the Priest with his military rank, though the Colonel's tone
was civil, even close to pleasant, and tinged with more than a small
amount of drunken-ness. He moved forward and once more ordered his way
through the crowd, his ringing authoritative tones a stark comparison to
Kedron's quiet movement through the opening in the body of the
smoke-smudged crowd that still undulated with the current of fresh faces
ending their duty shifts and collectively arriving from nearly every ship
in the Fleet, "Come on, Birthday Girl," Apollo called out into the noise
of the human-flanked channel through which the group of eight now moved
together, "let's find you a seat of honour!" Apollo clutched his wife's
hand, his composure slightly slipping as he glanced over to see his
daughter taking the arm of the black-clad figure that walked beside her
and guided her, along with the rest of them, smoothly through Apollo's
sudden break in the crowd. The Colonel's gaze caught the moment that
Kedron looked down, a slight, crooked smile flashing briefly across the
otherwise apparently impassive features as the Priest peered into
Artemis' upturned face. The moment was brief, but it was enough for
Apollo to be taken off guard by the realization that this might be more
than a simple, youthful dalliance. This was a serious young man, and
Artemis, during an early morning confrontation with her father in the
family's private quarters upon his discovery of a suitor that had not
been introduced to him as such, had not given one centron of ground in
her statement that her relationship was, in her own words, /...none of
your frakking business, Father.../

Scene Eight

     "Tolen, is everything alright over there?" Tigh's carefully
modulated voice betrayed none of the alcoholic effects of the two bottles
of special Protean reserve ambrosa that he and Adama had consumed
together over the course of the evening, sitting in the comfortable
chairs in Adama's private quarters and reminiscing over times that they
had not discussed in yahrens, particularly during  the roughly two
deckons of the journey that had begun with the formation of the Fleet
after the Destruction of their home-worlds, "Adama and I have been
conferring over a few matters. It's not often that we have an opportunity
to spend a little time on important Fleet business, one on one," Tigh's
muscles willed him to remain stiff and erect, his face a mask of
stone-like composure as he addressed Colonel Tolen over the Alpha Channel
console that had been installed to one side into the large work-top of
Adama's well-worn desk.
     "Nothing of note happening here, Commander Tigh," Tolen's crisp tone
was as steady as ever, the young Colonel, in turn, betraying no evidence
that he might suspect the true nature of Tigh's extended stay after
having attended Sheba's celebratory family gathering. In fact, it had
been Tolen who had urged Tigh to take the furlon time while he, himself,
though a close friend and colleague to Sheba, had remained aboard the
Battlestar Pegasus. Instead, he had requested that the Commander deliver
an apologetic note and a small token that Tigh had presented to Major
Sheba over dinner in Commander Adama's quarters, the note explaining to
its recipient that Tolen was of a mind that the work weary Tigh, along
with Athena and Bojay, were more in need of a break in routine than the
other members of the Pegasus Command crew, and that Tolen would make it
up to his former Commander's daughter with a trip to the Officers' club
at a table for two on his next scheduled furlon cycle. For now, Tolen's
voice emanated from the speaker in Adama's office area assuring his
Commander that all was well in his temporary absence, "all systems are
reading nominal and there are no pressing matters that require your
attention. It's been pretty routine over here, Sir. The only major action
we're monitoring right now is the attendance to Major Sheba's below decks
party. Communication traffic indicates that Galactica Command is now
regulating attendance and putting extra crewmen in the landing and launch
bays, along with some Council Security to manage the heavy drinkers.
Other than that, the rest of the Fleet is pretty quiet right now."
     "Very well, Tolen," Tigh coughed slightly, holding on to the image
of sobriety with all of his will, "keep me advised. I'll be working with
Commander Adama well into the night. I may not be back until the morning
duty cycle, if you think you can handle things without me."
     "Aye Commander," Tolen's tone made no shift in its carefully clipped
delivery, "by your leave, Sir," the image of the younger man on the
monitor nodded a salute as the communication was ended and Tigh pressed
the small toggle on the console before him, switching off his end of the
transmission and sighing deeply with a relaxation of his muscles as he
briefly studied the reflection of his face in the reflective blankness of
the now powered down screen. He straightened himself, pulling at the hem
of his dark blue tunic, striding with a smile across the length of the
chamber to rejoin Adama as the silver-haired Warrior re-corked a third
bottle and handed Tigh his next drink.

Scene Nine

     "Over here!" Captain Boomer's strong baritone carried through the
thick air of the banquet chamber as Sheba's group emerged once more from
the roiling current of party-goers, following Kedron's lead as the young
Priest, Artemis still holding tightly to his arm, made his way toward a
cluster of large tables that had been arranged in a semi-circle,
effectively cordoning off a generous space in a comfortable back corner
adjacent to a small, nondescript hatchway, "What took you so long? The
ice is melting! Let's get this party started before the liquor gets
warm!" Boomer strode forward, a broad smile illuminating his dark face as
he pulled Sheba from her husband's side and planted a firm smack of a
kiss on her cheek in a gesture of comic exaggeration, "it's not every
daily cycle that a Warrior reaches her forty-sixth yahren!"
     "Thanks, Boomer," Sheba flushed happily as Apollo retrieved her hand
and gently pulled her toward a comfortable chair near the centre of the
largest of the clustered tables, the rest of the group following to join
the additional compliment of friends that had already gathered, seated
amongst shreds of paper decorations and flickering candlelight that
reflected against the large basins of ice piled high with small brown
bottles of ale and interspersed with a few taller, more elegantly-shaped,
though slightly dusty bottles from the Galactica's store of varied
yahrens of aged ambrosia, "I know forty-six is a big deal, but do you
have to make it sound like I've qualified for a billet aboard the Senior
Ship?" the Major laughed, taking her seat, Apollo settling into the seat
at her left hand side, while she gestured clearly for Kedron to come
forward and take occupancy of the seat to her right, "sit right here,
Kedron," she smiled sweetly as Kedron settled Artemis smoothly into the
seat on his other side, and then bent his long, angular frame forward
into the chair beside Sheba, his face impassive as ever, "I want you
beside me tonight, Kedron, so that /we/ can take this opportunity to get
to know you better", Sheba's sparkling brown eyes projected a clear
message as she held Kedron's blue-grey gaze with her own, /you will get
along with the Colonel, for Artemis' sake/, Sheba knew that Kedron could
clearly perceive her thoughts, having grown accustomed, over these last
six sectars, to working beside several of the young Priest's fellow
telepaths from the ranks of the Battlestar Horace, "open that bottle of
ambrosa for me, won't you, and pour us a drink," she made note of the
appearance of the small crooked, smile that once more relieved the
austerity of Kedron's expression as his long, black-sleeved arm reached
gracefully for a nearby bottle of ambrosa, pulling it from the basin of
ice into which it had been planted. He exhaled forcefully from slightly
pursed lips, blowing a small cloud of dust from the surface of the
bottle, then pulled out the cork with one smooth motion, allowing a small
wisp of vapour to escape with a satisfying /pop/. He gathered the stems
of a half-dozen chalices from the tabletop before him between the long,
elegant fingers of a black-gloved hand and deftly poured a generous
libation into each of them, setting down the now nearly empty bottle and
reaching to distribute the goblets of amber fluid into the waiting hands
of those who sat closest to him.  
     "Hey, Boomer!" Starbuck called across the table, his voice competing
with the ever-fluctuating cloud of smoke and sound that emanated from the
rest of the banquet room, rolling over the variably intersecting pockets
of conversation created by the growing group seated at the cluster of
reserved tables that had provided a welcome corner for Sheba's party,
"where's Rigel? Did she finally ditch you for that Colonial Security guy
with the facial tic?"
     "She's on the Bridge, smart guy," Boomer spoke dryly, declining to
rise to the bait of a playful taunt that his friend had verbally cast
across the space between them, "I'm on my own for this one," Boomer
swallowed a generous tipple of the ambrosia that Kedron had poured for
him, then set down his chalice, leaning forward carefully, cautiously
re-positioning a large arrangement of flickering candles that had
momentarily threatened his sleeve, "/Somebody/ has to work tonight,"
Boomer and Starbuck turned together to regard the still moving mass of
the party-goers beyond the oasis of relative calm that their corner of
tables had created, "I don't think anyone expected this party to get so
big. I don't even recognize half of the faces and it looks like they've
come from all over the Fleet."
     "Yeah," Starbuck said, toying with an unlit fumarello that seemed to
appear from nowhere, alternately holding it gently between his teeth,
touching it to his lips, and then rolling it into his hand with an
undulating, almost meditative movement of his fingers, his memory
recalling the long past sensation of the distinctively fragrant smoke
passing through his lungs, "I bet Security is putting a few more people
on points of entry and exit. This thing could get out of hand without
much provocation."

Scene Ten

     "Commander Kellen?" the tall woman turned, her expression mild,
betraying very little of the workings of the mind behind the
sharp-featured face and short, tapered mane of shocking white hair that
swept back from her temples and forehead in a utilitarian, yet elegant
wave. Her left eyebrow lifted in a gesture of acknowledgement toward a
broad-shouldered man with a shock of curly brown hair atop a face quite
clearly etched with the effects of a lifetime of service, his straight
back draped with the long uniform jacket of the High Kobol Guard, "we've
reviewed the security data that came over from the Pegasus. There's
something here that I think they may have missed," Kellen nodded as she
accepted a small data storage device from her Executive Officer, the two
of them moving to stand before the main Command Console, where Kellen
reached forward with a fluid movement of her long, black-clad arm. She
inserted the small rectangular block of metal into a slot beneath the
central monitor, pressing a small switch with a slender gloved finger to
power up the display.
     "What's happening here, Colonel Rutger?" a look of confusion crossed
her normally calm features, "there's a frequency spike on this
transmission log data. Where is it coming from?" the two Warriors leaned
over the console, both peering at the data that moved across the screen
before them, "Is it coming from within the Fleet?"
     "We're not certain, yet, Commander," Rutger's hazel eyes turned to
intersect Kellen's icy grey gaze, "are the telepaths sensing anything?"
     "I sense a wall," Kellen's eyes suddenly narrowed, her gaze seeming
to shift as she searched inward, using her telepathic abilities to listen
for..."I see it now," the Commander of the Battlestar Horace straightened
her spine, turning on her heels to address the rest of her Command Crew
in a clear, ringing tone, "Prepare for an alert! Inform the Pegasus that
we may have a security breach! Contact Commanders Tigh and Adama at once
over the Emergency Alpha Channel! Send my apologies and ask Officer Omega
to have them cut their furlon short. And somebody get me on a hard
channel with a telepath aboard the Galactica! Someone's on the loose over
there with a high-powered Delta Blocker!"
     "What is it?" Rutger leaned his rugged face forward, his muscular
body tensing for action, "what did you see?"
     "That spike on the data log, Rutger," Kellen glanced once more at
the image on the monitor, "it's being caused by interference from a very
sophisticated delta transmission device. It appears to be masking an
outside signal, creating a virtual telepathic wall, blocking us, myself
and all of the telepaths that I can currently detect throughout the
Fleet. There is a barrier through which I cannot see, Rutger," the
Commander of the Battlestar Horace continued to gaze at the monitor,
studying the spike on the delta frequency spectrum display," she returned
her attention to her Executive Officer, whose brow furrowed as his
Commander spoke, her tone conveying to him a clear undercurrent of
urgency, "Whomever is operating that device is up to something aboard the
Galactica such that they are specifically concealing their activities
from telepathic detection. On top of that, we have no current means of
ascertaining how long a time that this signal traffic has been active.
Who do we have over there?"
     "We may be in luck, Commander," Rutger beckoned a crewman from a
nearby communication station to attend them, "Kedron went over some time
ago for the below decks party with Ensign Artemis, at Major Sheba's
request, ma'am."
     "Get him on a comm line, and be discreet, Rutger," Kellen moved to
sit in the large seat that dominated the Command Platform, "we don't have
any idea what we're dealing with yet, and with the amount of traffic
going back and forth for that party, we don't dare take a chance of
starting a panic!"

Scene Eleven

     "Tigh! Wake up, Tigh!" Adama pulled away the blanket that he had,
only two centars earlier, placed over the dark man's elegant frame as the
two friends had retired after drinking themselves into a warm state of
slumber, first Tigh, and then Adama, losing their grip on wakefulness and
falling asleep, each snoring cozily under a soft blanket, deep within the
embrace of the comfortably over-stuffed chairs, dreaming of happy times
over fine meals and the flow of ambrosa..."Tigh!" Tigh's eyes flew open,
the bright light of the chamber blinding him momentarily, a dull ache
beginning to manifest itself from the base of his skull, "Here Tigh!
Quickly, take this trioxon tablet! It won't feel pleasant, but it will
sober you up in a hurry!"
     "Wha..." Tigh struggled to his feet as a small white tablet was
thrust into one hand, followed by a small glass of water into the other,
"What in Hades is going on? What's happened?" Tigh's dulled senses
suddenly came into painful focus as he downed first the tablet, and then
the contents of the small tumbler, "What is it, Adama?" Sobriety dropped
a heavy blow of awareness over Tigh's senses as the effects of the last
evening's libations were abruptly ended by the powerful drug that Adama
had given him, /a little concoction of Wilker's, no doubt/, Tigh moved to
join the other Commander behind the large desk that dominated one corner
of the chamber, to see the image of Commander Kellen, framed within the
edges of the monitor that now displayed the indicator of an emergency
Battlestar to Battlestar Alpha Channel transmission.
     "I'm sorry to interrupt your rare furlon time, Gentlemen, but I
believe that we may have a rather difficult situation on our hands,"
Kellen's face was inscrutable, showing no sign that she had noticed the
short delay that had been required for both men to recover chemically
from a rather debilitating state of drunken-ness or that she was aware of
the rather rumpled state of her fellow Commanders as they stood blinking,
each willing themselves to find their bearing and focus on Kellen's words
as she briefed them on her recent discovery...

Scene Twelve

     "Laurette!" the young Senior Cadet turned at the sound of her name,
a familiar face appearing above her from the depths of the crowd in the
banquet room.
     "Boxey!" she lifted a tankard in salute to Ensign Artemis' elder
brother, Lieutenant Boxey, by association a brother-figure to Laurette in
her positon as Starbuck's daughter. Boxey was the eldest of that
close-knit group of children who had been practically raised upon the
Bridge of the Galactica, all of them equally welcome from toddlerhood to
address Commander Adama by the title of 'Grandpa'. Boxey was the only one
of their number who had been born before the Destruction, living the
first small fraction of his life on a planet, a planet long desolated,
yet still remembered and honoured as a home and haven that had once been
their sanctuary. Boxey was a figure of awe to the youngest of them, and
someone to whom Laurette had turned many times when in need of a rescue
from some tangled situation that her impulsive nature had embroiled her
in, "these are great seats you reserved for us! We've got everything we
need without having to fight the crowd, and best of all, no parents!"
     "I'm glad you approve, Laurie, but I can't stay and celebrate with
you right now," Boxey knelt down on the deck beside the young Cadet's
chair, speaking clearly into her ear, careful to avoid any inadvertent
eavesdroppers amongst the crowd of Cadets and crewmen that currently
occupied the cluster of tables that Boxey had arranged to provide for
them in an effort to contain the younger of the party-goers from the
Galactica's crew, giving them an oasis away from the flow of the crowd
still moving through the central space of the banquet chamber and the
Officers' Club beyond, and taking into account that Sheba's table, the
domain of the more Senior Officers, was positioned as far away from their
subordinates' seating area as the breadth of the banquet chamber would
allow, "stop drinking, gather as many reasonably sober Senior Cadets and
Junior Officers as you can," Laurette started to rise from her chair, but
Boxey's arm held her back with a vice-like grip, keeping his expression
neutral and speaking steadily into her ear, "keep calm, don't start a
panic. There's a security problem. Adama sent me down here to fetch
Brother Kedron. Gather as many people as you can without causing a stir
and bring them discreetly over to Major Sheba's table. I'll be there
waiting for you. Understand?"
     "Aye, Sir," Laurette's playful grin had been replaced by as neutral
an expression as she could muster, "What's the emergency? Why Kedron?"
     "I'll explain when you get to Mom's table," Boxey casually placed a
hand on her shoulder, appearing to anyone who might care to watch as
though he was engaging in a bit of banter with his younger associate, a
pleasantly mild expression still consciously fixed on his features, "now,
get moving Cadet, and remember, don't cause a stir," the young Lieutenant
smiled as he and Laurette stood, each of them playing their role with
precision, casually taking their leave of one another as though merely
passing the time of day, behaving as though they were enjoying their
furlon, as were so many others at Laurette's table, as well as those that
made up the still-roiling mass of humanity that moved steadily through
the smoke-filled space of the chamber, seeming to pulse in an odd
undulating wave that grew more and more dissonant as Boxey watched the
movement with a queasiness beginning to emerge from deep in his gut, a
vague memory of a previous time beginning to form in his mind, "we don't
need a panic to start with this crowd. I don't know how we'd contain a
stampede like that without some serious injuries."
     "Aye, Lieutenant," Laurette maintained an emotionless smile as she
made a casual wave and watched the back of Boxey's flight jacket
disappear into the crowd. She reached for a large carafe of cold water
from the mass of glassware and ice basins of bottles that overflowed the
table at which she had been seated before Boxey's cryptic orders had
interrupted her furlon time, "oh, well," she muttered as she downed most
of the large carafe's contents, shaking her head as she willed her senses
to clear, the cold water helping to flush away the warm haze that had
previously begun to envelop her, "it was nice while it lasted."

Scene Thirteen

     "Tolen!" Tigh held tightly to the railing of the Command Platform,
Adama beside him, his feet still adjusting as his balance emerged from
the last fog of the alcohol purge that Adama's abruptly administered
Trioxon tablet had initiated through his bloodstream, his mind sharpening
as his awareness became less dull, less sedated, "Tolen," he repeated
into the microphone atop the Alpha Channel transmitter, "have you
recalibrated the sensors with Commander Kellen's data?"
     "Aye, Commander," Tolen's face was uncharacteristically open, an
expression of shock having impacted his features, "it's confirmed, Sir.
It's a match for the mutated electromagnetic signal," Tolen paused, his
voice slightly faltering as he struggled to regain his composure,"
Commander Tigh, Commander Adama...it's the same signal that..."
     "Yes, Tolen," Adama's somber baritone broke through the younger
man's effort to vocalize the one thing that had filled all of their
hearts with the remembrance of dread and sorrow, of the moment when the
doctors of the Fleet had confirmed that the mysterious signal, identical
to the one that that all three Battlestars could now detect on their
external sensors, the signal that had brought with it a toxic effect to
which many of the Colonial humans had been exposed, and to which only one
had succumbed, losing his life in the service of his people, "yes, Tolen"
Adama repeated flatly, "it's the mutated magnetic radiation that killed
Commander Cain nearly twenty yahrens ago."
     "Commander Adama!" Officer Omega swiveled in his chair, breaking the
tension that had brought the others to a state of stunned silence, "We've
just had word from Lieutenant Boxey over the shielded channel. Sir! He's
almost in position below decks. Once he delivers the message, it will be
up to Brother Kedron and whatever half-sober crewmen that Boxey's been
able to round up!"
     "Let's hope that the message is clear, enough, Omega!" Adama and
Tigh exchanged a look long familiar to both of them, a look that spoke
volumes worth of daily cycles spent serving alongside one another on this
very platform, a term of service that had given them a wordless
communication almost comparable to that of the Horacian telepaths that
now made up a small portion of the population the Combined Fleets, "Boxey
and Kedron may have only one shot. If they falter, then only the Lords of
Kobol can know how this will end."

Scene Fourteen

     "It's getting a little weird out there," Bojay spoke through the
thick fog of smoke as he and Athena moved away from their seats, joining
the others of their group at Sheba's table who had now risen to their
feet, standing closely to one another in a gradually sobering phalanx
near the small hatchway behind them that occupied the bulkhead to the
rear of the chamber, all of them staring hypnotically outward, into the
mass of moving people that now seemed to take on a sinister state,
"what's happening," Bojay's voice seemed to fade as Apollo called out to
him.
     "Bojay! Athena! That sound!" the Colonel felt Sheba's hand clutch
his own, her fingers shaking with the sudden realization..."Sheba! It's
the signal! The signal that..." Apollo felt a sick, dull weight in his
stomach as he reached to embrace the shuddering form of his wife, moving
to pull her.../somewhere/.../anywhere/...his mind working quickly,
thinking through the last vapours of the slowly dissipating remnants of
the alcoholic haze that had previously had hold of him...clouding his
senses.../Boxey/...Apollo paused in confusion as his eldest son emerged
from the now-menacing crowd, his posture that of a man with a clear and
singular focus of movement and concentration...
     "Kedron!" Boxey's voice rang out, seeming to break through the
oppressive cloud of heavy, undulating sound and smoke as the young
Warrior strode forward quickly, leaving little time for the Priest to
respond to his call and to understand the message implicit in the sight
of Boxey's open, outstretched palm. He moved toward Kedron, resisting the
pull of the ever-thickening blanket of air that seemed to embrace him,
pushing at him, as if to slow his forward movement, his brown eyes
brightening as he saw the tall Priest move quickly to remove one glove,
extending his black-sleeved arm and grasping Boxey's hand with his, the
two of them now standing, Kedron staring down intently into Boxey's wide
eyes, their bare palms firmly connected, both of them forming an oasis of
silence around themselves as Kedron probed deeply, telepathically
initiating a direct physical link into Boxey's willing mind.
     /I understand/ Kedron's voice seemed to echo from deep inside of
Boxey's skull /think about the crewmen. Laurette is behind you. See them
moving into a defensive sweeping maneuver/ Boxey felt an image forming in
his mind, of a network of fine strings of silver quickly connecting him
to Laurette and a group of a dozen others that had moved inconspicuously
through the oppressive force of the crowd, all of them originally
responding only to follow Laurette's quiet instructions to make their
way, individually, with as little fanfare as possible, toward the corner
of the banquet chamber where Major Sheba's party had been seated. /Tell
them to get ready. The delta blocker is behind the hatchway/ Boxey's mind
focused, following Kedron's silent instruction, watching as the strands
of sparkling silver knitted themselves quickly into much thicker strands,
his thoughts merging with Kedron's as the strands knotted themselves
together into a web of interconnected lifelines that ran from each of the
dozen young crewmen and Junior Officers who walked now, slowly forming a
human chain, each of them now appearing to Boxey to be tethered together
with Laurette's small frame forming a nexus at which the strands joined
together, merging and forming one more, single thickening strand of light
that connected Laurette and her network of hastily gathered recruits to
Boxey and Kedron /see them converge on the hatchway and deactivate the
device. See them apprehend the operator/ Kedron began to loosen his grip
on Boxey's hand.../ready/.../NOW/...
     The tall, blonde Priest moved with lightning fast reflexes,
releasing his grip on Boxey's hand and turning in a leaping pirouette,
avoiding the sweep of the human chain of Laurette's volunteers and
landing with stunning precision less than two centrons directly in front
of Starbuck and Cassiopeia.
     /The necklace/ Kedron's voice resonated now inside Starbuck's skull,
imposing upon his thoughts the image of a pendant with intricate
characters etched onto its ovoid auricon face and delicately flowing
chain /give it to me, Captain Starbuck, quickly/ Starbuck stared back at
Kedron, his clear blue gaze keeping focus on Kedron's blue-grey as he
expressionlessly reached into the small utility pocket sewn into the
sleeve of his dress uniform tunic, pulling out the pendant and chain that
had caused a near twist of Cassiopeia's ankle and placing it gently into
Kedron's outstretched palm /stay with the others, stay close together,
stay behind me/ Starbuck blinked quickly, the bubble of silence that had
surrounded Kedron's voice inside of his skull now abruptly ruptured by
the thick wall of sound that emanated from the darkening smoke that
obscured all but the wave of movement of the ever encroaching crowd.
Starbuck reacted, following the young Priest's direction, grabbing hold
of Cassiopeia's arm and urging her forward, directing her closer to the
huddled group of Warriors, with Sheba at its centre, a look of sheer
panic now taking over her face.

 Scene Fifteen

     "No! It can't be! Not after all this time!" Sheba's voice was
panicked, a tone that filled Artemis with a dull sense of dread as the
mother and daughter clung to one another, Apollo's arms circling both of
their shoulders while they struggled to remain standing under the
pressure of the air around them, Artemis' eyes moving first to her
parents, taking in their matching expressions of rank horror, then
following their gaze to stare with them at the figure that now emerged
from the darkness of the ever-thickening black smoke that nearly obscured
all detail of the crowd from their unblinking stare.../Iblis/...Artemis
couldn't tell if her mother had spoken the name aloud, or if it had
resonated from within her skull, but she knew what it meant, she of all
the Galactica's children knew the meaning of that name in a way that
no-one, save her mother, could ever truly understand.
     /Go! Go back to Hell where you belong/ Kedron's words cut through
the sound and smoke as he moved to position himself directly in front of
Major Sheba, facing the creature in humanoid form that stood before the
transfixed group near the table, the dark hair contrasting sharply with
the long, flowing white cloak that draped fluidly down over his equally
white-clad shoulders, its hem barely brushing the tops of the shiny black
boots. A smile that had sent shivers up Sheba's spine over yahrens of
periodic nightmares dominated the lower half of the square-jawed face, a
self-satisfied grimace that lent a decidedly reptilian quality to the
resulting expression that had silently mocked her in haunted dreams from
which she had awoken with a racing pulse, struggling to remind herself in
her waking moments that Iblis had gone, disappeared in that final flash
of light, nearly twenty yahrens ago...     
     /Who are YOU?/ the smile turned downward as Iblis stepped forward,
glaring furiously at the tall young man in black who stood facing him,
the amulet that had been plucked from the decking, tucked carefully into
Starbuck's pocket and transported into the banquet chamber now rested
firmly against the young Priest's bare palm as he stood, legs planted
widely, his long arm extended high above his blonde head, the auricon
surface of the ovoid pendant in his grasp growing brighter and brighter
as he focussed all of his telepathic abilities onto one single task,
sending a current of delta wave radiation from the cerebral cortex of his
brain that moved through his body and into the amulet, creating a
concentrated pulse of bright white energy that blasted its way from the
center of the amulet and arced like lightning to strike directly at
Iblis, hitting him squarely in the mid-section with a force that sent him
reeling to his knees, a look of uncharacteristic shock crossing the
previously smug and self-controlled features, /who do you think you are?
Get out of my way! Artemis! Come to me! Come to me, now! I shall have
what is mine, reparation for a bargain that your mother has broken!/
     "She doesn't belong to you, you monster!" Sheba's voice was laced
with the fury of a mother enraged at a threat to her child, "nothing here
is yours! Go! Leave us alone!" Apollo's arms tightened around his wife
and his daughter, drawing them with a tightening grip against his chest,
fighting the force of the ever-thickening air that seemed to close in
around them like a thick blanket of black smoke, obscuring his vision as
he stood with his back against the bulkhead behind him, the other
attendees of Sheba's aborted birthday celebration huddling in a tight
group next to the three of them.  
     /Go, Demon! Return to the realm to which you have been outcast!
Leave this place, and never come back! There is nothing for you here!
Return to your own domain! The Lords of Kobol command you!/ Kedron's
words echoed clearly through all of their minds, the sputtering arc of
energy that poured from Priest's upraised palm focussed visibly into one
thick, steady stream of light, striking the Count once more in the
midriff as the figure in white rose to his feet and sending a shower of
impossibly bright sparks into the space that surrounded the creature, the
foul inner face plainly visible to the group huddled against the
bulkhead, a mask of blackened, distorted evil, reddened eyes glaring with
rage, defiant even in defeat as the beam of light forced him once more to
his knees, /Be gone!/ Kedron focussed every muscle in his body, every
neuron in his brain, a small trail of blood running slowly from one
nostril as a blood vessel weakened and burst from the pressure...
/FLASH/
     Apollo stood frozen, Sheba and Artemis still clutched tightly to his
chest, the two women's arms intertwined around one another as the three
of them straightened together, realising suddenly that the noise and the
smoke had gone. The crowd that had undulated like a roiling serpent of
humanity through which Iblis had emerged now reverted to a massive group
of party-goers exhibiting various stages of drunken-ness and confusion as
they began to murmur and stare blankly at one another, uncertain as to
what had occurred, feeling as though they had awakened from a dream, the
details now vague as they stumbled against one another, blinking and
dazed by the bright lights of the chamber, the memory of the dark, dense
cloud of smoke and sound that had entrapped them now receding quickly
into indistinct memory, details blurring together as a large group of
Council Security Officers came pouring through the main hatchway from the
Officers' Club beyond.
     "Is it over?" Cassiopeia's quavering voice pulled the group from
their collective, shocked reverie, their eyes blinking repeatedly, taking
in the sight of the still-crowded banquet chamber, watching as the black
tunics of the Council Security Officers rushed past them, pouncing on the
figure of a slight, coveralled man that struggled desperately to escape
the determined grasp of Lieutenant Boxey, Senior Cadet Laurette and
several others of the group of young Warriors and crewmen that the two
had recruited. Boxey had followed the orders that he had received only
centons earlier from Commander Kellen as she had spoken to him urgently
over the Alpha Channel relay on the Galactica's Bridge. With the
amplifying effect of the touch of their bare hands, he had relayed
Kellen's message directly into Brother Kedron's mind, the two men's
thoughts merging, with Boxey clearly seeing what Kedron's probing mind
had found, the image of a crouching figure in a maintenance uniform,
working the controls of a delta blocking device from within the confines
of the small storage chamber that had remained unremarked, un-noticed by
the party-goers as the man had operated the machine, preventing the
Fleet's telepaths from detected his presence, or the presence of the
signal that he had worked to disguise, the signal that the Fleet had
first detected those many yahrens ago when the combined oscillating and
transverse waves of mutated radiation had first threatened them. Boxey
had reacted to Kedron's clear instruction to make for the hatchway, storm
it with his make-shift posse and deactivate the device.
     "Kedron!" Artemis cried out and ran forward, stepping away from the
protective embrace of her parents with a panicked scream of horror as the
tall Priest turned to face her, his movement uncharacteristically
disjointed, his fingers lowered and twitching slightly as the pendant
slid from his grasp and clattered noisily to the decking below his feet,
his long legs buckling, his eyes rolling back in his head as he slumped
to his knees, unconsciousness overtaking him as he fell to the floor.

Scene Sixteen

     "Kedron?" Artemis' voice called out to him as he struggled for
consciousness, the touch of her cool hand on his fevered forehead
bringing him out of the darkness, "Kedron, can you hear me?"
     His eyes opened quickly as the memory of the foul creature in white
flooded into his mind, /Artemis/, he sat bolt upright, realizing with a
start that he was cradled by a life pod, the lights of the Galactica's
Life Station bringing his dulled senses into focus as strong arms grasped
his shoulders and pushed him back down, "Don't try to get up too
quickly," Doctor Salik's voice was firm, "you've had a small aneurism
burst in your skull. We've repaired the damage, but you need to take it
easy. Do you hear me, Son?"
     "Yes, Doctor" the young Priest relented, his vision still clearing
as a familiar dark face appeared above him, white teeth flashed beneath a
mane of black hair and the glittering green eyes brought his sight into
final focus as Artemis leaned downward, pressing her lips against his
forehead and speaking softly to him as unconsciousness once more took
hold of him and he faded into sleep.
     "I may have misjudged him," Apollo squeezed his wife's shoulders as
the two stood watching from across the main chamber of the Life Station,
both of them noting the look of stark relief on their daughter's dark
face as the young woman crouched beside the life pod, her hand gently
resting against Brother Kedron's pale cheek while the Priest succumbed to
the strong sedative that Doctor Salik had administered to him, "he saved
all of us. I'm still not actually certain of what's happened ..." the
Colonel turned, remembering suddenly... "Oh, Sheba, I'm so sorry. Your
forty-sixth birthday, your party, it was meant to be special..."
     "It's alright, Apollo," Major Sheba responded, a grin of simple
amusement taking over her face, "I don't think anyone's going to forget
this party for a long time to come. If that's a measure of success, then
I guess we made out fine." Apollo's grin grew to match hers, as they
touched their foreheads together, sharing a moment of stark relief at the
sight of their friends and family, all gathered now in the Life Station,
awaiting the clearance from Doctors Salik and Paye, taking their turns at
submitting to a medical exam and awaiting the results, the all-clear that
would allow them, one by one, to leave the Life Station and return to
their various quarters or duty stations, "And as far as that young man is
concerned," Sheba's eyes met his, the grin replaced briefly by a firm
expression of conviction, "I'm happy to keep him around, as he appears to
be the best hope we have of keeping Artemis safe." Apollo opened his lips
to respond, his words cut short by a sudden sound of activity near the
Life Station entrance...
     "Apollo! Sheba!" Adama rushed through the hatchway, Tigh close
behind him, "Doctor Salik sent word that you're all safe and sound! Thank
the Lords of Kobol!"
     "Father! I don't understand! For Sagan's sake! "Apollo and his wife
turned, their sense of relief still tinged with confusion, "We saw...in
the banquet chamber...it was /him/...it was..."
     "Yes, Apollo, it was /him/, it was /Iblis/," Adama's deep baritone
carried through the Life Station, claiming the attention of those
assembled near various work stations and examination platforms, the
intermittent beeping of electronic displays providing the only
competition for Adama's rolling tone, "it was /him/ all along. We're not
certain yet how long the Galactica has been affected by the signal. That
poor soul in the maintenance chamber with the delta wave blocker was out
of his head by the time Council Security got him down to a holding cell.
Doctor Roman has come over from the Pegasus to attend to him down there,
to keep him in isolation until we can find out who he is, and why Iblis
chose him.
     "Commander," Sheba's face registered a sudden realization, her brown
eyes widening as she spoke, a touch of confusion still flavouring her
speech, "you said that we're not certain how long the signal has been
back, does that mean that the whole time..." her eyes widened further as
the realization sunk in more deeply, flooding her mind with images of her
birthday, the conflict between Apollo and Artemis at the discovery of the
young woman's secret love affair, the massive heaps of food and drink
that she and the others had consumed over dinner, the endless libations
of ale and ambrosa, and then, the roiling mass of darkness that had taken
hold of the occupants of the banquet chamber, embracing a massive segment
of the Fleet's population with creeping black smoke..."Adama, he was here
the whole time, influencing us, putting us into a state of oblivion,
hiding himself from the telepaths, from all of us, leaving the people
aboard the Galactica vulnerable to his assault..."
     "Yes, Sheba," Adama's voice conveyed a confirmation of the facts as
she now saw them, her mind now clear of the fog that had obscured it for
much of this day, "it would appear that what we thought was a mere break
in the routine, a generous furlon for a special occasion, was in fact a
result of Iblis' devious machinations. If Commander Kellen and Colonel
Rutger had not noticed a spike in the Pegasus' sensor logs that was
caused by the delta-blocking device...well...there is no way of guessing
how long it may have taken us to emerge from our mass delusion."
     "We thought we were finally safe," Apollo pursed his lips, gazing
absently over at the crouching form of his daughter, her hand still
gently stroking the unconscious Priest's brow, "how can we fight
something that we can't see coming?"
     "Take heart, Apollo," Adama placed a hand upon each of their
shoulders, Apollo's and Sheba's, "we have the Priests of Horace now, new
allies, living amongst us. I believe that they have been sent to us,
perhaps by the grace of the Lords of Kobol, but whatever the motive or
the means, the result is clear. If we are to have any clear defense
against this foul creature of darkness who plagues us still, then these
Kobollian Priests are the best chance that we have to defeat him," his
gaze shifted, and theirs with him, as the three of them turned to look
thoughtfully across the chamber at Artemis and Kedron, "in the name of
the Lords of Kobol, with these Warriors of the mind on our side, we shall
be victorious."
     "Alright!" Doctor Salik's rough tones broke through the bemused
silence of those assembled in the Life Station, breaking the spell that
had been woven by Adama's words, and sending a ripple of relieved
laughter moving through the small crowd, "half of you are cleared, now
get out of my Life Station, and let me get the rest of these people out
of my way!"
     Apollo stepped away slowly, sending a grim smile of acknowledgment
toward his Father and squeezing his wife's arm with affection as he took
momentary leave of them, moving to join Artemis beside the life pod, and
placing a warm hand upon her small shoulder, two sets of matching green
eyes, one looking downward with love and acceptance, and the other
looking up with a smile of forgiveness and a sigh of relief, both of them
nodding with the unspoken message that Apollo now gave to his daughter,
that all was forgiven, and her relationship with Kedron would now be
accepted, with no need for her to conceal her love from a Father whose
over-protective ways seemed now to have finally softened.

/Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny...the last Battlestar, Galactica, leads a
rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest...a shining planet
called...Earth./