'The Sum of All Parts, Episode One: Planet of Mystery'
By Carla

Written for Battlestar Galactica (1978) stories <bsg-fanfic@lists.eyrie.org>

There is no copyright infringement intended by this story. It is for the
purpose of entertainment only.

'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.'


Chapter One
Scene One

     Panoramic view from space of the Battlestar Galactica ending in an
approach into the viewport of Captain Apollo's private quarters
     "Is it time yet, Dad?"
     At the sound of Boxey's voice, Apollo glanced up from the flight
schedules displayed on his table top view screen. In spite of a
half-hearted attempt to maintain a neutral expression, his habitual
half-smile appeared. The Captain quickly input some equations copied from
a small piece of paper that he had fished from the nearby bookshelf, and
then powered down the screen, pushed his chair back from the work space
and distractedly rubbed the back of his neck as he stretched and rose to
his feet.
     "Time? Time for what?" The Captain asked in a gently teasing tone as
he walked over to the view port seat, where his son fidgeted. "Is there
somewhere we need to be?"
     "You know, Dad!" Boxey looked up at his father and smiled.
     Apollo looked down into those wide-open brown eyes. Serina's eyes.
He's so like her in so many ways. The Captain allowed himself barely a
micron to indulge the bittersweet feelings that always engaged his senses
with sudden reminders of his late wife. Forcing himself back to the
present, Apollo knelt down in from of Boxey's seat, and allowed the smile
to widen as he placed a hand gently on the boy's small shoulder.
     "Yes, Boxey. It's almost time. I think we can head on over to the
lab, now."
     "Yeah! Let's go!" The boy squirmed out of his seat and headed for
the door. With the push of a button, he was through the opening and into
the corridor. "Come on, Dad!"
     "Alright, alright. Wait up." the Captain called out laughingly, as
he grabbed his flight jacket from the back of his chair and threw it on
while automatically checking the status of his sidearm. Since the days of
the Destruction, the Colonial warriors of the fleet had become accustomed
to wearing their weapons almost all the time. The days of furlons far
from the action without any uniforms or weapons were left behind with the
defeat of the Twelve Colonies. For the Captain, and for the warriors
under his command as well, the battle-readiness required from them for
the fleet's protection had necessitated a state of near constant
vigilance for the last yahren. It had become a part of everyday life,
particularly for a ranking officer like Apollo.
     "Boxey!" the Captain called out as he stepped through the doorway.
He stopped short to avoid walking into an unexpected obstacle in the form
of Colonel Tigh. "Colonel," the Captain nodded in deference to his
superior officer. "Are you taking the lift, Sir?" Apollo reached up to
tap the keypad control beside the nearest lift entrance. We're going to
Dr. Wilker's new lab in Lambda section."
     "We're going to the same party, Captain. I'm coming to see the new
upgrades, myself," the Colonel stepped through the opening to the lift,
with Apollo and Boxey close behind him. The lift doors closed and the
three of them automatically braced for the familiar sensation of
weightlessness that came briefly as the lift began to move. "If all goes
well, maybe we can allocate some resources to make a few more drones."
The  Colonel glanced down at Boxey's upturned face, "Friends for Muffit."

***

Chapter One
Scene Two

     "You see, Boxey? Muffit looks just the same as he did before,"
Apollo felt some relief as he reassured the boy. He'd been concerned
about handing his son's precious companion over to Wilker for the upgrade
procedure. Not that he didn't trust the quirky scientist. After all, The
Doctor had not only originally built the drone as a favour to the
Captain, but had done it in the middle of the chaos of the Destruction.
When Apollo himself had been a boy, there were special times when the
whole family would board the Galactica for a formal function or even just
a quick afternoon for them to be together while the Galactica was near
their home planet. During those times, Ila and Adama had indulged their
son's interest in science and allowed him to spend time with Wilker,
perched excitedly on a stool in the Galactica's science lab.
     "He's awful quiet, Dad," Boxey clung to Apollo's leg reflexively, as
he often did when he was uncertain.
     "The universal motons in his joints have been replaced with a newer
version," Wilker's voice was uncharacteristically soothing, as the Doctor
knelt down beside the boy, "Go ahead and talk to him. He should respond
just like he always has."
     Emboldened by Wilker's encouragement, and a with a nod from Apollo,
Boxey stepped forward and approached his mechanical friend.
     "Muffy! Come here, you daggit!," he called out in an attempt at
bravado.
     Apollo let out the breath that he discovered he'd been holding as
the little daggit swivelled his ears and raised his head in a familiar
gesture of recognition.
     Bark, Bark, Rrrrr The sound of Muffit's 'voice' had an immediate
effect on Boxey. His reticence gone, the boy threw himself forward and
wrapped his arms around the drone's neck.
     "Muffy, you're all clean and new!" Boxey cried happily as he buried
his face in the daggit's fur. The drone responded with a gentle nudge of
a front foot against it's masters face. The boy laughed delightedly and
rose to his feet, "Come on, Muffit!" The boy ran, with a now silent
Muffit close on his heels, toward the back wall of the storage facility
that had been retrofitted to replace Doctor Wilker's former lab. There
had been very little left of that section of the ship after the
Galactica's encounter with a Cylon basestar several sectons previously.
     Apollo, Wilker and Tigh stood together by the bank of flashing
instrument panels that dominated one entire wall of the facility.
     "He's a lot quieter," Apollo observed thoughtfully, turning toward
Wilker. "I hope Boxey doesn't consider the stealth potential of a silent
partner," the Captain's smile belied his serious words. "That's another
big one I owe you, Doc."
     "It was no trouble," Wilker returned the smile. Adama's son was one
of a very small circle that Wilker allowed into his private space. The
Doctor had forseen great things for this young man from the first time
the Commander's wife had led her shy son into Wilker's lab so many
yahrens ago. Wilker was not known to be comfortable in the company of
women, but Siress Ila had had a special way of drawing people out. She'd
extended a long, slender arm to hand him the broken clock-work daggit
she'd been holding in her deceptively delicate looking fingers, and asked
him if he could repair it.
     "I'm so sorry to take you from your important work, Doctor, but it
would mean so much to Apollo if you could repair it. He feels very badly
about breaking it. You see, it was a gift from his father." Doctor Wilker
recalled doubting that any man, having heard Siress Ila's warm, and
softly musical voice, would have ever had the strength to resist her.
     "Doctor," Colonel Tigh's less than musical tones interrupted
Wilker's reverie and brought his sharp, if slightly disorganized,
scientist's mind rushing back to the matters at hand, "When can we see
the two prototypes?"
     "I'll just bring you up to speed on the Muffit Two upgrades,
Colonel. You see, until we've tested the new matrices further, I thought
it would be prudent to imprint a clear hierarchy on the prototypes. In
other words, Muffit is the pack leader. They are programmed to respond to
his direction, in the event that there is no other input available."
     "But Muffy's not going on dangerous missions, is he?" Boxey failed
to hide the anxiety in his voice as he moved  to stand near the three
men.
     "The imprinting is merely a fail-safe, in case the new drones get
confused," Wilker reassured the boy while glancing amusedly up at the
Captain, who had started slightly at Boxey's approach. 
     "Stealth potential," Apollo muttered quietly.
     "The upgrades, Doctor?" Colonel Tigh knelt down in from of the
daggit and peered into the drone's impassive face, "Other than the silent
operation, he looks no different to me."
     "Muffit, secure the Colonel!" Wilker cried suddenly.
     Before Tigh could draw breath to respond to the Doctor's sudden, and
apparently nonsensical, command, the drone had grasped the Colonel in a
maneuver rivalling the skill of a professional wrestler and pinned him
face down on the floor with one front 'paw' gently, but firmly planted on
the small of the warrior's back and another holding his right arm, elbow
bent in a classic submission hold.
     "Colonel!" Apollo cried in shock as he stared at the scene before
him, "Muffy, let him go!" The little drone responded to Apollo's command
and released it's grip on the Galactica's Executive Officer. Thank the
Lords he's still listening to me. The Captain offered his hand to the
Colonel and helped him to his feet, "Colonel, are you alright?"
     "Ye- yes," Tigh coughed out the word as he was lifted back up to his
feet. With a slight shudder, he regained his balance and turned toward
Wilker, "Doctor, what in...," the Colonel looked down briefly toward
Boxey before he continued speaking in a slightly calmer tone, though his
jaw remained tightly clenched and his eyes widely opened, "Doctor,
perhaps you can explain to me why you found this, this, demonstration
necessary?" 
     Wilker leaned slightly forward, knitted his eyebrows and chewed his
upper lip distractedly in an effort to contain the laugh that threatened
to escape from behind his normally morose expression.
     "Well, Colonel. I thought it might be effective to begin with the
more serious applications. The prototype drones have a tactical defense
modulator built into the junction between their complex functions matrix
and the automated systems. Given the appropriate stimulus, the tactical
defense program powers up and inputs an override code."
     "You put a modulator in Muffy?" Boxey cried fearfully.
     "Oh, no, no," Wilker responded, "Muffit Two still has his original
matrix. We've just made his reflexes much faster. Because the new motons
are virtually frictionless, he's much stronger and faster than he was
before. As far as his basic matrix goes, he was already programmed to
protect. He doesn't need a new defense matrix." The Doctor turned back
toward Colonel Tigh, "The prototypes, however, are more automated.
They're not capable of the level of independent logic response that
Muffit has. They're programming in very straightforward. They receive
input and respond accordingly."
     "Then may I ask why you didn't have one of them knock me down,
instead of Muffit, here?" the Colonel had never been known for his
outstanding sense of humour, dry perhaps, but not outstanding, and he was
convinced that, over the yahrens that both men had called the Galactica
home, Wilker had taken great pleasure in provoking Tigh for no other
purpose than to amuse himself.

***

Chapter One
Scene Three

     Wilker, Tigh and Apollo turned suddenly as the sound of the main
door mechanism interrupted them. Two men in flight suits emerged from the
corridor.
     "Starbuck! Boomer!" Apollo smiled warmly at his closest friends, "I
thought you two were off duty today?"
     "So did I, Captain," Boomer's dry tone communicated a familiar story
to his friend and Strike Leader. Starbuck was up to something that
couldn't possibly end well, and Boomer was going along for the ride
because, well, Apollo guessed that the dark Lieutenant just couldn't
resist the need to see Starbuck's schemes through to the end. Apollo had
been on that ride many times since basic training. The thing was, every
once in a while, one of Starbuck's improvised plans actually worked. 
     "What Boomer means, Apollo," Starbuck's voice interjected, "is that
we," he clapped a hand briefly on Boomer's shoulder, "have decided that,
in the interest of science, the security of the fleet and our good pal
Muffy," Starbuck winked cavalierly at Boxey as he spun an unlit fumarello
in his fingers in an absently rhythmic motion, "to volunteer to be the
first test subjects to run the new survey drones through their paces. You
know, get them to sit and roll over, fetch something," Starbuck's
eyebrows raised slightly as he gestured with the hand that still held the
fumarello in a gentle grip. His voice became a little more musical in
tone as he leaned slightly forward, "socialize them outside the lab. You
don't want antisocial drones on your hands. We all know what happened to
the Cylons."
     "Alright, Lieutenant. Spit it out," Colonel Tigh crossed his arms
across his chest in a deliberate motion, "What's the angle? Women?
Cards?," Tigh leaned forward and tilted his head slightly, "A practical
joke, perhaps?"
     "And why are you so eager to get the prototypes out of the lab?"
Apollo interjected suspiciously, "What are you up to, Starbuck?"
     "Uh -hmmm," The five warriors turned at the sound Wilker's gravelly
cough as the scientist emerged from behind the nearest bank of electronic
equipment. In his hand was a wireless control box with several
vari-coloured push buttons and toggle switches. He pressed and
manipulated a series of these controls and stepped aside as two drones,
very similar in size and shape to Muffit, walked noiselessly from behind
him and then sat side by side at his feet, their expressionless faces
tilted slightly upward as though waiting for instructions.
     "Gentlemen, if you've all finished socializing over there, may I
introduce to you Drone One," the Doctor gestured with his free hand first
to one drone and then to the other, "and Drone Two."
     "Inspired names," Starbuck muttered quietly in a cheerfully
sarcastic tone as he leaned toward Boomer's ear, "Maybe it's a good thing
Wilker doesn't have any kids."
     Boomer gave Starbuck a sideways glance, but remained silent.
Something else had caught his attention.
     "Aren't those combustion weapons attached to those drones' front
limbs?" Boomer asked as he visually surveyed the drones with the
practiced eye of an accomplished technician.  Besides piloting a viper,
Boomer's great passion was electronics, "I thought they were being
developed for planet surveys, not defense."
     "Yes," Colonel Tigh's voice registered disapproval, "I don't recall
the Commander or myself approving armament for these prototypes. What's
your explanation, Doctor?", His arms still crossed, Tigh lifted his left
eyebrow as he gazed steadily at the scientist, clearly awaiting the
explanation, and clearly expecting it to be a good one."
     "Well, Colonel," Wilker was one of the few officers on the Galactica
who was apparently unaffected by the Colonel's authoritative demeanor. He
maintained the same steady, somewhat mournful tone that he was wont to
use whether in dictating a lesson to a group of apprentices or speaking
to the 'great and near great', an expression the Doctor recalled hearing
Lieutenant Starbuck use a time or two, "It was my understanding that as
survey drones, these machines will be essentially performing unmanned
reconnaissance missions. Can we afford to build a new drone every time
one of them is destroyed by some unknown fauna or hostile alien, or do
you intend to send Starbuck and Boomer here down with them every time to
cover them?"
     "Point taken, Doctor," Tigh was once again amazed at Wilker's
ability to convey sarcasm without actually changing his tone of voice.
The man was enigmatic. "But I must insist that the weapons remain
disabled until initial testing has been performed. I don't want any
incidents. Do I make myself clear?"
     "The weapons are harmless at present. The drones have no access to
combustion grade incendiary pellets. The pellets are the only type of
ammunition the drones will recognize unless they receive direct input to
the contrary," Wilker remained unmoved by Tigh's admonition, "However,
there is one other concern."
     "Yes Doctor," Tigh cupped an elbow in one hand and rested his chin
against the other, "What is it?"
     "Well, Lieutenant Starbuck is right about socializing the drones.
They will require a certain amount of repetitive conditioning in order to
initialize some of their complex functions. Since their matrices were
copied from components of Muffit Two's design, they share his ability to
imprint on specified input and respond to it with something akin to
familiarity. Muffit Two itself," the Doctor gestured toward Boxey and his
mechanical companion, "was originally imprinted with an image of Boxey.
Through continued input from the boy, the drone has, over time, learned
to respond appropriately and even anticipate certain types of commands
and potential reactions. Part of this also has to do with the
environment. Muffit, for example, could reasonably discern that if Boxey
is in his bedroom with nightclothes on, he will be going to bed. If  the
drones are conditioned exclusively in the lab," Wilker spread his arms as
he indicated their surroundings, "then the only place that we can be
confident they will respond with optimal results will be here in the lab.
By placing the drones gradually into more diverse environments, we will
optimize their ability to perform an efficient survey."
     Colonel Tigh felt his jaw muscles contract. This was how it always
began. Starbuck came up with a scheme, then the Gods handed him the means
to execute it.
     Starbuck stiffened slightly at the sudden piercing glare that
targeted him from Colonel Tigh's face and attempted to adopt as innocuous
an expression as possible.
     "Say, why not bring them into the Officer's Club?" the blonde
Lieutenant suggested in an easy, natural tone of voice that had placated
many an irate card player or angry superior. He glanced briefly over at
Colonel Tigh and was met with a slightly subdued version of the piercing
glare. He paused to weigh his words carefully, then continued, "It's
midday and the OC is pretty empty around this time. The drones could have
an opportunity to be exposed to a few unfamiliar people and objects for a
few centaurs, perform a few tasks, then phhht," Starbuck made the sound
by forcing some air between his upper teeth and lower lip, "Back to the
lab!", he punctuated his statement with a mock flourish of his still
unlit fumarello, "We can even bring Muffit along as a chaperone."
     "Doctor Wilker, is this truly the best way to get these drones up
and running?", Tigh asked with a certain degree of exasperation. And so
it begins he thought stoically as he glared once more, briefly, in
Lieutenant Starbuck's direction.
     "Well," Wilker shrugged resignedly, "It's the best idea anyone's
come up with yet."
     The Doctor's words enhanced the sense of doom that Tigh felt welling
up from his abdomen.
     "Alright then," he said with an air of decision, "but I want you
there, Doctor, with the wireless control and Muffit. Understood?"
     "Understood, Colonel," Wilker responded with a nod.
     "Hey! I thought Muffy was coming home with me!" Boxey looked up at
Apollo as the Captain drew his attention away from the interchange
between Tigh and Wilker and focussed on the small boy at his side.
     "Well, I'm sure it won't take very long, Boxey...,"
     "Why not let him come along?" Starbuck interjected smoothly, "Like I
said, the OC isn't usually busy this time of day, and besides, don't we
need Boxey to make sure Muffit behaves?"
     "Can I, Dad?" Boxey pleaded excitedly. "I can help Doctor Wilker and
I'd really like to see the new daggits do stuff. You can come, too."
     "I don't know," Apollo knelt down to face Boxey as he imagined the
disapproval he might incur from Adama if the Commander found out that he,
Apollo, was considering allowing Boxey to not only spend the afternoon in
a bar, but that the boy stood a very good chance of becoming embroiled in
one of Starbuck's schemes. Although Adama was loathe to interfere with
Apollo's attempts to make his own way as a father, he did not hesitate to
express his opinions when he felt it was warranted. Well, I was hoping to
make it to...,Apollo suddenly glanced down at his chronometer, then back
up into Starbuck's now curious gaze.
     "Actually, there is something I was hoping to do...," he stared
thoughtfully at the empty space over Boxey's left shoulder for a micron,
then returned his gaze to his son's face and smiled, "Tell you what,
Boxey. I have something I'd like to do before midday is over. It
shouldn't take too long, and I can pick you up here at the lab after
you've helped Doctor Wilker. Does that sound alright to you?"
     "Yeah! I get to see the daggits work!" Boxey cried with his
customary excited tone.
     "There's just one more thing, son," Apollo held up a forefinger and
used it to gently touch Boxey's chin, "You will do whatever Doctor Wilker
and Boomer tell you to do," the Captain moved his finger again until it
was pointed directly at his best friend, "You will keep your eye on
Lieutenant Starbuck and report back to me and Colonel Tigh if you see any
behaviour unbecoming to a Colonial Warrior."
     "Hey!" Starbuck cried in mock indignation from where he stood behind
the Captain.
     "Yes, Sir!" Boxey saluted smartly, as only a boy of seven can, gave
his father an affectionate hug around the neck and ran off to join Wilker
at the work platform where the Doctor was now making minute adjustments
on the wireless remote box with a miniscule gripping tool that he had
removed from the utility pocket on the upper front of his science
officer's tunic. Apollo smiled briefly at his own memories of  the time
he'd spent with Wilker as a boy, then rose to his feet and turned toward
Colonel Tigh, "Are you sure you're alright with this Colonel?"
     "I'm not sure about anything when Lieutenant Starbuck is involved,"
the Colonel threw Starbuck another glare of suspicion, then returned his
attention to the Captain, "but, as long as Doctor Wilker has the control,
I can't see any better way of getting those drones ready for field
trials, we won't have the opportunity to send them on tomorrow's
planetary survey, but I'd like to be ready for the next one. If the
testing goes well, we'll be able to save a lot of leg work for our survey
teams, not to mention the very resources we're trying to survey for. At
any rate, Captain, I'd better get back to the bridge and give the
Commander my initial report. Gentlemen," he nodded to the three warriors
and glanced briefly over at the work bench where Wilker was testing
various functions of the remote by causing one of the prototype drones to
lift and replace each limb carefully onto the decking that covered the
floor of the lab. Gods help us all, was his final thought as he strode
purposefully from the lab.
     "So, Apollo, what's got you glancing at your chronometer?" Starbuck
turned to Apollo and continued to roll the now slightly tattered
fumarello between his fingers as he peered into his best friend's face
with renewed curiosity, "Big date?" The usually unflappable Starbuck was
unprepared for the strong reaction his words produced. The Captain's face
had flushed redly as he began to back quickly toward the exit.
     "Um, I, I have to go now," Apollo said simply and with a quick wave
at Boxey, he fled through the door.
     'What's the matter with him?" Boomer asked as he moved closer to
Starbuck and pondered the door that had closed behind the Captain, "He's
been as jumpy as an Arian sand bat the last couple of days," The look of
concern on Boomer's face belied his dry humourless manner. Apollo was one
of his two closest friends and he'd become increasing aware lately that
the Captain's thoughts were preoccupied with something that was eating at
him in a big way.
     Starbuck's gaze followed Boomer's and the two young men stood
silently regarding the doorway.
     "I think he's definitely come down with something," Starbuck said
with an amused grin.
     "Oh," said Boomer, "What? Some kind of space psychosis?"
     "Worse."
     "What's worse than space psychosis?" Boomer asked quizzically, as he
turned to face his friend.
     Starbuck smiled and, firmly placing the now near dangerously
tattered fumarello between his lips, fished a match from the pocket on
his sleeve and, striking it against his thumbnail, lit the fumarello and
closed his eyes as he inhaled it into ignition. The 'smouldering weed',
an expression he'd often had directed at him in Cassiopeia's
disapprovingly playful tone, was then lowered away from his lips as he
exhaled a pungent cloud of smoke that made Boomer cough slightly.
     "Love, my friend. Love," Starbuck laughed softly and took another
drag of his smoke as he saw bemused comprehension dawning on Boomer's
face, "Worst case I've seen in a while."

***

Chapter One
Scene Four

     "Starbuck, maybe this isn't such a good idea," Lieutenant Boomer had
said these words to his friend so often over the last few yahrens that it
was more a habit than an admonition. "These drones are untested and the
only conditioning they've had so far has come from a child of seven
yahrens."
     "Look Boomer," Starbuck glanced around the Officer's Club at the
growing crowd, most of whom had invested the cubits that now sat in tidy
piles in front of him on the table.  "They learned to sniff out mushies
in five centons flat, and Wilker says their learning matrices are almost
as sophisticated as Muffit's."
     "Yes, sophisticated. Meaning that they have military tactical
defense capability. Is that the kind of machine you want to have doing
tricks for mushies in the middle of a crowded bar? What if something goes
wrong? And, just for the sake of my curiosity, how do you suppose
Apollo's going to react when he finds out that Boxey's involved in one of
your crazy get-rich-quick schemes?"
     "Boomer, you wound me. I'm just giving the kid the opportunity to
get in on the ground floor. When daggit drone gaming catches on, it'll be
big business. Besides, you worry too much. You heard Wilker yourself. The
drones have to perceive a threat to our security before they go into
defense mode. Besides, it's not even turned on yet. They're not even
armed. They've only been initialized for passive behaviour until Colonel
Tigh gives the nod for the military application. Until then, they're just
a couple of daggits with fake fur," Starbuck lit a fumarello and returned
his attention to the electronic pad where he was tabulating bets.
     "A couple of daggits with fake fur and speed and reflex capacity
that could rival that of the most advanced Cylons known to man."
     Starbuck's expression became fleetingly grim as memories of the IL
series Cylon, Lucifer flooded unwelcomed into his mind. He shook his head
as if to dislodge the image and took a long drag from his fumarello. This
will be the most exciting, and profitable, daggit race the fleet has ever
seen. The Lieutenant didn't dwell over the additional fact that the event
was to be the first daggit race the fleet had ever seen and, when Colonel
Tigh and Captain Apollo caught up with them, probably the last.

***

Chapter One
Scene Five

     Apollo paused outside the entrance to the rejuvenation centre. He
pursed his lips slightly and let a slow, cleansing breath fill his
nostrils. He parted his suddenly dry lips and blew the breath out in a
slightly exaggerated manner. Such relaxation techniques had been taught
at the Caprican Military Academy, in part, to enhance one's calm. The
Captain, however, felt less calm with each passing micron that he delayed
entering the doorway. Don't be an equine's astrum, he admonished himself
silently, Just go in there and ask her. He straightened with a posture of
renewed determination and entered the rejuvenation centre. As the door
closed behind him, he paused once again. This time, his attention was
captured by a stray lock of shining, light brown hair that moved
rhythmically against the Galactica crest that adorned the shoulder of
Lieutenant Sheba's flight jacket. The young woman was moving a plaston
wand back and forth over the screen on the table-like structure of the
recreational game beneath her. He stood fascinated for several microns,
his uppermost thought was to imagine running his fingers through that
hair and... Snap out of it, Skipper, or you'll miss another opportunity.
Boxey's safely occupied with Boomer and Starbuck and Sheba's off duty for
at least another day. With a determined tug at the bottom of his jacket,
he strode across the room and joined Sheba at the gaming table that
currently held her attention.
     "Hey, how's the Taurean Crypt Raider?" Apollo had adopted what he
hoped had come out as a playful tone of voice. He felt a slight
tightening of his chest as Sheba turned to face him with the ready smile
he had been hoping for.
     "Apollo! We meet again. Muffy make it home in one piece?"
     "You could say that," the Captain laughed, feeling his body relax
slightly, "He and Boxey are helping Starbuck and Boomer with some reflex
testing on the new prototypes. It could take a while." He held Sheba's
gaze briefly and willed his face not to redden as she responded with a
speculative tilt of her head.
     "Does that mean that you're available for a protein drink? I think I
see an empty table back there," she gestured toward the back wall of the
rejuvenation centre with the hand that held the gaming wand, "Oh frak!"
     Apollo raised his eyebrows as his gaze followed Sheba's to regard
the plaston gaming wand in her hand.
     "Game not going so well?", he asked with an attempt at an innocent
expression. Sheba's lack of skill at the gaming tables was almost
legendary among the warriors she served with.
     "Never mind, I was bored anyway. There must be something slowing
down the action on the screen. I think the board needs some maintenance.
Fire damage, you know," Sheba's expression was a clear message not to
tread in dangerous waters. Her sensitivity over her lack of skill was
just as legendary as the lack of skill itself."
     "It's one of Boxey's favourites," the Captain inwardly flinched at
his choice of words. That's right. Tell her she's been outplayed by a
small child. Very smooth. Change the subject fast. Think, idiot! "So," he
rubbed his hands together in exaggerated anticipation, "How about that
drink?"
     "Right," Sheba said dryly as she replaced the gaming wand along the
groove that ran around the perimeter of the game board inset into the
center of the table, "Let's grab a seat."
     Apollo felt a rush of relief and renewed determination as he
followed the Lieutenant to the refreshment area. Don't screw this up,
Apollo. The last three times you've tried to get her alone, you wound up
fighting with her over something completely ridiculous. If I manage to
screw this attempt up, I swear I'll just ask her in front of whomever
happens to be there at the time.
 
***

Chapter One
Scene Six

     "Well, it looks like Drone One is the clear favourite," Lieutenant
Starbuck smiled and nodded happily toward the line that had formed at the
makeshift betting booth manned by Lieutenant Greenbean. Fearing the
almost certain wrath of Colonel Tigh, the tall, gangly, blonde warrior
had resisted Starbuck's initial attempts to enlist him for the position
as the crowd had dramatically increased in number. As with almost all the
other members of Blue Squadron, however, he had relented to his comrade's
gently wheedling assurances that the Officer's Club had been approved as
a test site for the drones by both Captain Apollo and the Executive
Officer himself.
     "Not the nearly empty room Colonel Tigh was expecting," Boomer
responded with a tone that was clearly not optimistic. We'll be scrubbing
out the canisters on the reclamation barge for sure after this, the
dark-skinned Lieutenant lifted a mug of Borellian ale from the table
before him and took a generous sip, "You're not worried about Boxey
turning you in?"
     "Very funny, Boomer. As far as I can tell, our junior warrior is
having the time of his life," Starbuck nodded toward the corner of the
room adjacent to the bar, where Boxey perched excitedly on a tall stool
beside a table laden with a generous display of colourful snack foods and
fizzy non-alcoholic drinks. The bar-man, upon seeing the Captain's son
enter the club with Starbuck, Boomer, Wilker and the drones, had swiftly
parked the boy nearby to keep him out of the flow of customer traffic,
under the servers' watchful eyes. The bar-man, like countless others, had
been in the field of fire of enough of Lieutenant Starbuck's recreational
slash business pursuits to know what the Captain's reaction would be if
anything happened to the boy. It took a good sense of self-preservation
and a strong stomach to be a bar-man on a battlestar full of bored
warriors.

***

Chapter One
Scene Seven

     "Sheba! Please! I didn't mean it as a challenge. Can we just forget
this stupid game long enough for me to...," the Captain was acutely aware
of a small loosely gathered group of onlookers well within earshot of the
Crypt Raider game.
     "Sorry, Captain," Sheba had lost her temper, and hence her sense of
reason. Inwardly, she imagined that she heard a small voice saying, Shut
up, for Sagan's sake! Stop being so childish., but it was too late. Her
temper, combined with her competitive nature, and her growing resentment
toward that hateful little blue Crypt Raider thing overcame her good
sense, "It's too late to forfeit. I'll be kicking your astrum at that
table," Sheba pointed downward just in time for the display game to
initiate and the offending blue character to materialize under her
finger, "at your convenience."
     "That's an arrogant tone of voice for a rejuvenation centre,
Lieutenant," Apollo's own voice began to rise in timbre as he cocked his
head and leaned back slightly, crossing his arms in an air of surprised
indignation.
     "Arrogant," the muscles of Sheba's face were beyond any effort at
self-control, but her voice was strangely devoid of emotion. A witness
later likened her visage to a female arachon about to remove the head of
its prey. "Only you would have the obnoxiousness to accuse someone else
of being arrogant."
     "Oh, I see," the Captain, oblivious now to anything but his
righteous indignation made no effort to moderate the sarcastic tone that
dripped icily from his lips. "Not only am I obnoxious," his open hands
curled toward himself , "but I'm arrogant as well," the hands flew open
again in a gesture of mock submission. He expelled his breath derisively,
"Fine, then," the Captain's own temper had overcome his common sense in
much the same way that Sheba's had, "I'll play this stupid game, and get
it over with. Then I'm going to ask you to..."
     The Captain's next words were lost in the static of the Unicom
speaker as Lieutenant Rigel's voice reached them from the bridge,
"Captain Apollo to the Officer's Club. Captain Apollo, report to the
Officer's Club, please.
     The Officer's Club? In all the yahrens that he had served on the
Galactica, he had never received an urgent page to report to the...
Starbuck. Oh My God! Boxey!
     "Look," the Captain grabbed Sheba by the shoulders in a less than
gentle grip, "I'm going to do whatever it is I'm being called to do,
then, at my first convenience, I'm going to win this stupid game that I
don't care about to begin with, and then, then,...," Apollo suddenly
pulled Sheba toward him and planted a decidedly passionate kiss on those
lips that had, up to now, been busy forming the words that had pushed his
temper over the edge. He stepped back, and, after a fairly good
impression of a fish gasping for breath out of water, he released his
grip on the now silently stunned Lieutenant. With a final sputtering
sound of frustration escaping from his lips, Apollo turned and hurried
out the door, leaving Sheba standing with her mouth open.
     "Sorry, your play has expired. Please try again!"
     Sheba, still open mouthed, her finger still pointing downward,
turned in time to see the source of the cheerful little voice, the Crypt
Raider character, slowly dematerialize.

***

Chapter One
Scene Eight

     Apollo marched quickly around the corner that led to the entrance of
the Officer's Club, but was stopped in his tracks by the mass of humanity
that filled the corridor. Medical Technicians, Council Security,
Warriors, Civilians. What in the...? The Captain stepped aside quickly as
two med-techs rushed past him with kits in their hands.
     "Cassiopeia!", he called, as he recognized Cassie's shining blonde
hair emerging from the crowd with some difficultly. He reached forward
and steadied her by the arm as she moved to stand beside him. "What's
going on? Has there been an explosion?" Apollo had noted that the main
entrance to the Officer's Club was now a jagged, gaping hole in the
corridor wall. The door lay some three or four metrons away, sparks still
erupting from it's circuitry.
     "Not exactly," Cassiopeia responded, "It's a little hard to explain
right now, Apollo. Look, I have to get in there to find Starbuck..."
     "Starbuck's in there?" the Captain cried, "But Boxey's with Starbuck
and Boomer and I..." Apollo grabbed Cassie's shoulders reflexively,
"Where is Boxey?"
     "That's why I had the bridge send you here. I didn't want you to
worry when you heard the words 'Life Station". Boxey is fine," Cassiopeia
enunciated the words clearly and loudly and reached up to remove his
hands from her shoulders and grasp them firmly in her own, "Boomer got
him out, before the worst of it happened, and brought him to Life Station
to have him checked out. He's fine."
     "Thank you," the Captain's face registered relief as he retrieved
his hands gently from Cassiopeia's reassuring grip. Since the death of
Boxey's mother, Cassiopeia had fulfilled a promise she had made to the
dying Serina that she would help Apollo to watch out for the boy and be
there to comfort him when he missed his mother. As a result, she and
Apollo had developed a special relationship. The Captain had never tried
to put a label on it. On the rare occasions that anyone had dared to
suggest that there was anything improper about the bond between the two
of them, he had responded with any icy glare of his piercing green eyes
and said simply, "She's family".
     "But what do you mean, 'the worst of it'? The worst of what? What's
happened here?" Apollo's eyes scanned the moving sea of people and
equipment as a heavy feeling of dread began to rise up from somewhere
deep in his abdomen. It was a feeling that the Captain was all too
familiar with. Starbuck. The Captain turned once more toward Cassiopeia.
"Does this have something to do with Doctor Wilker's drones?", he asked
the question even though it was clear to both of them that the answer had
to be 'yes'.
     "Apollo, go to the Life Station," Cassiopeia ordered firmly in a
tone that was suddenly all business, "Boomer and Boxey can fill you in on
some of the details," with a final reassuring squeeze of his arm, she
took hold of the med-kit slung over her slender shoulder and began to
make her way determinedly through the crowd toward the jagged opening
that led into the uncertain bowels of what had once been the Officer's
Club.
     Apollo took a last incredulous look around him, and then turned on
his heel to rush down another corridor that would bring him directly to
the Life Station. Starbuck, so help me. When I get my hands on you...,
the Captain knew in his heart that he would never harm his best friend
and frequent wingman. He could never stay mad at the boyishly charming
Lieutenant, but it relieved some of his immediate stress to imagine
hurting him a little.
     Apollo rushed through the door leading into the Life Station to
encounter another scene of chaos that rivalled the one he had left behind
at the Officer's Club. He scanned the room, quickly expelling the breath
he now realized he had been holding in for the last few microns. Just as
Cassiopeia has assured him, Boxey was sitting in a far corner of the
room, perched on a bio-bed, looking a little unkempt but definitely
uninjured.

***

Chapter One
Scene Nine

     Starbuck stood frozen near the center of what had once been the
Officer's Club. The  sound of the random plopping of mushie fragments
losing their adhesion to varying parts of what constituted a majority of
the surface area in the room was the only thing that intruded on his
consciousness.
     "Starbuck! Oh my God!" Cassiopeia cried as she and three other
med-techs rushed in through what now passed for the entrance to the main
corridor. She stopped and stared at Starbuck in disbelief. He stood
covered , from the top of his head to the bottom of his boots, in a gooey
blue substance that Cassiopeia quickly recognized as mushies. At least
they used to be mushies, she thought to herself. Suddenly, she found
herself overcome by the urge to laugh. Biting her lips, she cleared her
throat and stepped forward slowly. "Starbuck...?" she began to speak, but
before she could finish the question a rather large and viscous part of
the 'goo' covering the left side of the Lieutenant's face began to slide
downward. Cassiopeia held her breath and watched the blue mass first gain
momentum and then hang almost weightlessly from Starbuck's chin before
the final plop to the floor. Cassiopeia began to chuckle and then to
laugh until tears flowed from her eyes and her body seemed to go limp in
the struggle to regain composure. "Oh Starbuck, what have you done?" she
gasped when she was finally able to speak.
     "It was all going so well," Starbuck's voice responded from behind
the remaining mushie residue, "Drone One was winning. We were winning."
Starbuck turned slowly around to view the devastation that surrounded
him. He stopped his circular motion as he faced Cassiopeia once more.
"Then they brought the mushies in," the lieutenant said in a strangely
detached tone before slumping to the floor.

Chapter One
Scene Ten

     "Boxey," Apollo called out to his son as he rushed further into the
Life Station.
     "Dad! Dad! We have to go back and get Muffy! He went after the other
Daggits!" The words tumbled out in a rapid staccato as the boy rushed
down from his perch on the bio-bed and into his father's embrace.
     "Slow down, Boxey. I'm sure Muffy will be fine. Now, just tell me
what happened," Apollo struggled to keep his voice calm in spite of the
chaos that surrounded them.
     "The drones went crazy when they saw the mushies. I saw them go
through the door, and then Boomer grabbed me and the next thing we were
out in the corridor. They were everywhere!"
     "What do you mean? Who was everywhere?" Apollo asked.
     "Not, 'who'," Boomer's voice interjected from behind the crouching
Captain, "'what'."
     "Boomer, what in Hades are you talking about?" Apollo rose to face
the Lieutenant, "What is that blue stuff all over your uniform?"
     "I think you should come and see for yourself, Skipper," Boomer said
grimly as he gestured toward the door. "I think we'd better take Boxey
along, too. We have a better chance of getting those drones under control
if we have him along. He might be the only one they'll listen to, now
that the remote control is broken."
     "The remote is...," the Captain's lips parted as he began to
comprehend at least some of what Boxey and Boomer were telling him,
"Where's Wilker?"
     "Like I said, Skipper. You need to see it for yourself."
     "Alright, Boomer. Let's go and... Oh My God! Starbuck?"
     Boomer turned in the direction of the Captain's horrified gaze and
froze at the sight of Cassiopeia and another med-tech struggling to steer
the still mushie covered and obviously disoriented Starbuck toward a
treatment platform.
     "We were winning by a muzzle. My ticket out of the military,"
Starbuck's voice was still strangely calm as he was ushered to the
bio-bed that Boxey had recently vacated. Recognition formed in his eyes
as he focused on Apollo, and then Boomer. Both of his friends still stood
quietly frozen, as if fascinated by the sight of him.
     "The cameras were all set up. We could see every centron of the
course on the monitors. Drone One was holding the odds. Cubits. My
franchise," Starbuck spoke dreamily.
     "He's had a blow to the head," Cassiopeia explained carefully as she
struggled to maintain the neutral expression of a medical professional,
but it was obvious that she was having difficultly holding back the
laughter that was once again threatening to break out of her throat in
ever increasing spasms. She coughed firmly and made another attempt at a
level tone. "I'll have Doctor Salik take a look at him, but his pupil
response is close to normal and, at worst, I'd guess it's only a minor
concussion," she sputtered out the last word and clamped her mouth shut,
but to no avail. The peals of laughter escaped once more as she gestured
to the other med-tech to take her place beside the still dazed Starbuck
and rushed quickly into the nearest turbo wash to compose herself. Apollo
and Boomer glanced open-mouthed at one another as the incongruous sound
of Cassiopeia's muffled laughter reached them through the turbo-flush
door.

***

Chapter One
Scene Eleven

     Apollo stared in disbelief at the carnage that had only this morning
been the Officers' Club.
     "Boxey, where is Muffy now?" the Captain asked quietly as he and
Boomer stepped over the remains of a table to join the boy in front of
the utility cupboard.
     "He ran in there after the other daggits," Boxey said in a hushed
tone as he pointed to the cupboard, which currently sported the only
intact door in sight.
     Apollo gestured for the boy to get behind him as he reached for the
door control.
     "Careful Dad," Boxey hissed as he grasped the Captain's right arm
with both hands, "Muffy didn't get the last three trays of mushies away
from them in time. That means they're armed."
     Apollo raised his eyebrows and paused to look down at the boy.
     "Armed?"
     "With mushies, and whatever else they could find about that size and
shape," Doctor Wilker's distinctive and less than encouraging tone
interjected as he emerged from what had once been the bar entrance,
carrying the now defunct remote control unit. "Both of the new drones
apparently went into military defense mode after Lieutenant Starbuck's
little demonstration and grabbed what most resembled ammunition
compatible with their combustion weapons."
     "Doctor Wilker," Apollo said as he ushered Boxey away from the
cupboard door, "are you telling me that those drones are firing on our
people with high velocity mushies?"

***

Chapter One
Scene Twelve

     "Now, let me get this straight," Commander Adama's voice was
deceptively calm, even friendly, in tone as he clasped his hands behind
his back and strode out from behind his desk to stand in front of his
eldest son and his executive science officer. Apollo and Wilker stood
stiffly side by side as protocol dictated, "As I understand it, you,
Doctor Wilker, released two untested drones armed with combustive
projectile weapons into the custody of Lieutenants Starbuck and Boomer,
who promptly entered into an illegal gambling enterprise involving daggit
racing along with their partner, who happens to be my seven yahren old
grandson."
     "And you," Adama's tone registered indignation as he directed his
gaze toward Apollo, "allowed Boxey to have a front and center seat to
observe this gambling scheme while you were participating in a," Adama
paused and turned to reach for the pad that displayed Colonel Tigh's
initial report on the events leading up to the 'incident', as Tigh had
called it, "participating in a 'Taurean Crypt Raider tournament' in the
rejuvenation centre." Adama lowered the pad to his desk and turned back
toward the objects of his wrath.
     "Father, I...," Apollo's tone was cautious, "I think it's important
to remember that no-one was seriously harmed, "Doctor Salik says that
Starbuck and Reese will be out of the Life Station by this evening and
the drones are contained in Lambda section."
     "I intend to adjust their programming and remove their weaponry
until we've corrected the problem," Wilker interjected, "As far as I can
tell at this point, it was the sight of an ignited flinton in close
proximity to the mushies that caused Drone One to erroneously conclude
that there was a security threat. This, combined with the spilled grog
that shorted out the remote control, initiated the tactical defense
modulator. As to how the drone acquired the override sequence, I can only
assume that it was due to the damage. I'll know more when I've extracted
the data from the remote."
     "And why was it that the mushies were so significant to the drones?"
Adama's tone softened slightly as he lowered his gaze and deliberately
rubbed the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. After about
two microns, he raised his head and spread his arms in a resigned manner
as he looked expectantly at Doctor Wilker.
     "Well, you see, it seems to be a rather coincidental happenstance
that the standard issue combustion grade incendiary pellet has a certain
similarity in shape and size to an average mushie. This was not something
we anticipated in the preliminary simulations," Wilker managed, as only
he could, to downplay the drama that had ensued as a result of this
oversight.
     "Alright, Doctor," Adama nodded toward Wilker, "You'd better get
down to the lab and get to work before those drones find something harder
than mushies to defend themselves with."
     Wilker, seeing an opportunity to make good his escape from any more
potential recriminations, nodded in acquiescence to Adama and
commiseration to Apollo, then fled through the door at a healthy pace.

***

Chapter One
Scene Thirteen

     Father and son regarded one another silently for a moment.
     "Father, I...," Apollo aborted his attempt to speak as Adama
gestured toward the sitting area in the corner near the viewport opposite
the Commander's desk. The young man felt a great sense of relief that his
father's anger appeared to have subsided. 
     "Apollo," Adama began to speak as he sat adjacent to his son, "I
agree that the damage could have been much more serious. Starbuck's
unfortunate allergic reaction to the," the Commander paused, "ammunition
seems to be the most serious injury. Then, of course, there is Security
Officer Reese...," Adama shook his head slightly as he recalled Colonel
Tigh's account of the barrage of small objects, most of them mushies,
that had pinned down the Council Security Officers in the commissary,
until Croft and his Colonial Security Forces team had arrived, that is.
At this juncture the story had become rather confusing. The Colonel had
been uncertain as to how Reese had actually sustained the injury to his,
well, Adama would have to wade through several more accounts, including
Reese's and Croft's, before he would be able to piece the whole story
together. Adama returned his attention to the present and continued
speaking in a gentler tone, "What possessed you to allow Boxey to join in
on this madness, and what were you doing in a gaming tournament? I
thought you didn't even enjoy those role-playing games."
     "I don't, Father. In fact, I only learned to play that game for
Boxey's sake. He's the one who enjoys it so much. Besides, it was hardly
a tournament. I've never actually been able to make it through a game
with She..." the Captain stopped short as the volatile Lieutenant's name
began to cross his lips. He leaned back against the cushioned bench seat
and let out a deep sigh, "It started off so simply. I was just going to
go to the rejuvenation centre to, well," the Captain face reddened
slightly, "it's a little difficult to explain." Apollo was loathe to
discuss his disastrously embarrassing attempt at romance in the
rejuvenation centre.  
     "Apollo, I think it's time you had a break in your routine," Adama's
deep voice took on a soothing tone that had often served him well when
broaching difficult subjects, "You seem frustrated and distracted lately.
The situation with the drones is under control and Boxey and Muffit can
stay with me tonight and tomorrow. I'd like you to join the planetary
survey team and help them get their gear together. The shuttle's due to
leave first thing in the morning and some of the team is inexperienced.
I'd feel better if you were there. It will make them feel a little safer.
You can write down a tactical report and be back in time evening meal."
     "Father, I...," Apollo began to protest, but was stopped short by
his father's upraised hand.
     "I have another reason for wanting you to go along on this survey.
Athena is lead administron on this mission, and, though I know she's
quite capable, and I certainly don't want you to usurp her position, I'd
just like you to indulge me," the Commander's expression was one of clear
parental concern, "I'm used to having Athena nearby on the bridge. Both
of my children have been preoccupied with personal matters," Adama rose
once more to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back as he gazed
deliberately at the star field framed by the viewport, "I am not
attempting to pry into your personal affairs, my Son. However," the
Commander turned to look down at the still seated Captain, "I think a
change of pace might be what you and your sister both need."
     "I was about to object, Father," Apollo stood to face Adama, "but
now that you bring it up," the Captain hesitated as if choosing his words
carefully, "there are some matters I've been trying to address and a
little distance might help. Besides, I haven't spent much time with
Athena in the last yahren and there are some things I've been wanting to
discuss with her."
     The fact that Apollo did not protest more vehemently told Adama that
he was right to physically remove the Captain, even briefly, from
whatever emotional quagmire he seemed to be struggling against. The
anniversary of Serina's death had recently come and gone with a small,
emotional service of remembrance for family and friends and Adama had
noticed a change in his son. It seemed to the Commander that perhaps the
young man was finally emerging from the numbing grief of losing his young
bride so quickly and violently and was beginning to feel the desire to
participate more fully in the emotional lives of the people closest to
him. One of the Commander's many private sources of information had
witnessed the scene in the rejuvenation centre and Adama suspected that
Apollo was finally beginning to admit to himself what everyone else, even
Boxey, already knew. Apollo and Sheba had fallen deeply in love and these
two troubled souls that had suffered so much in their young lives were
each stubbornly refusing to give in to an emotion that had, in the past,
made them so vulnerable to the pain of loss.

***

Chapter One
Scene Fourteen

     Athena checked off another item on the pad that displayed the supply
inventory for the survey mission and emerged from the shuttle in time to
see Apollo stepping off of the lift with a survival pack slung loosely
over his right shoulder. His eyes scanned the shuttle bay slowly until he
spotted his sister and he moved to approach her.
     "Looks like I'm joining you on this one," he said simply, as the
distance between the two warriors decreased to earshot.
     Athena raised her eyebrows in surprise and set down her pad on the
nearest transport container.
     "Are you being punished for the incident?", she asked in the
sarcastic tone that only a sibling could achieve, "I heard Father was
practically apoplectic when the first reports of the 'War of the Mushies'
started rolling in." Athena had been busy preparing the team for next
morning's departure and had managed to avoid the communications chaos
that had ensued after Starbuck's latest stunt had gone awry. I'd have
paid a cubit to see him covered in mushies, though, she smiled inwardly
at the thought of her former boyfriend in such an ignominious position.
Although she and Starbuck had made their peace, even become friends again
to a degree, she still allowed herself some amusement over the handsome
Lieutenant's discomfort.
     "News travels fast," Apollo responded dryly, "Did one of your bridge
buddies fill you in?"
     "An officer never reveals her sources," Athena quipped humourlessly,
"Now tell me, why are you coming on this mission? You're not actually
being punished, are you?"
     "I guess not," Apollo answered as he tossed his pack near the
shuttle's entrance, "Apparently I'm preoccupied and I need a change of
environment for a day."
     "Apparently, we both do," Athena began to look a little
uncomfortable. It seemed to Apollo like a small shadow had passed over
her face. He'd realized some sectons ago that this almost always happened
whenever the two of them found themselves in any conversation that veered
beyond superficial matters. Athena was obviously loathe to discuss her
personal feelings with him, and he'd begun to suspect the reason for it.
It was the main reason for him agreeing so readily to this routine
mission. He'd decided to start this part of his life with as few past
burdens as possible, and this awkwardness between Athena and himself was
something he intended to address before they returned to the Galactica.
Sheba, on the other hand, the Captain found himself shuddering at the
memory of the language that had erupted from those beautiful lips as
she'd challenged him to a contest, for a sectons pay for Sagan's sake,
when she must know that she has no chance of winning. Maybe the damned
Crypt Raider Game will..., Apollo paused as he realized that there was
one more thing he would need to do before he was ready to leave in the
morning. I'll have to talk to Wilker before I leave tomorrow.

***

Chapter One
Scene Fifteen

     Muffit, alert for potential threats, raised his head with what
passed for a soft growling sound as Apollo entered Adama's private
chamber, but the little drone almost immediately powered down again as he
recognized Apollo's familiar form and style of motion. Thank the Gods
that Muffy was there to stop the drones before they shoved Reese all the
way into the... the young man pushed the images of the day's events aside
as he made his way slowly through the dimly lit room toward Adama's large
bed. Boxey was often allowed to sleep in the Commander's quarters if
Apollo would not be there to greet him as the daily cycle began. Sitting
down carefully beside the boy's still form, the Captain bent to place a
gentle kiss on the boy's forehead.
     "Dad, I heard you got yelled at today," the little boy whispered
sleepily as he struggled to keep his eyes open."
     "Hey," Apollo said softly, as he brushed Boxey's hair back from his
small forehead, "I thought you were sleeping."
     "I was waiting for you to come and say goodnight. Grandpa said you
and Athena are going to find the tylium before I wake up and I won't see
you until evening meal tomorrow."
     "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, Boxey. It seems I'm never on time for
you lately," Apollo felt a sharp prick of guilt that seemed to pierce his
heart. He had difficulty forgiving himself for the times that the little
boy spent waiting for him. 
     "It's because you fight with Sheba too much," Boxey observed with a
slight yawn, "If you'd stop arguing with her and just ask her to be your
girlfriend, you'd have lots of time."
     Apollo opened his mouth in surprise at Boxey's words.
     "So, you think it would make our lives better if Sheba was my," he
paused briefly as he caught the word 'wife' before it escaped from his
lips and instead used Boxey's word as he finished the sentence,
"girlfriend?"
     "Sure."
     "And you wouldn't have a problem with her being around a lot more
and spending time with both of us?"
     "No. Then maybe she wouldn't worry so much about being around a
kid," Boxey leaned forward and whispered earnestly as if fearful of being
caught telling the secret, "I heard her tell Cassiopeia that she was no
good with kids. I think it's because she was an only child like me."
     Apollo felt as though his heart skipped a beat at Boxey's words.
     "It's not polite to listen to other people's private conversations,"
he said sternly, "Sheba might be embarrassed if she knew you'd heard her,
and you must promise not to repeat it to anyone else."
     "But it's true, isn't it Dad, that if she was your girlfriend, she
could get used to being with me, and then she wouldn't be no good with
kids anymore."
     Apollo chuckled softly. Boxey had such a way of cutting through the
felgercarb and getting right to the point. The boy had inherited this
quality from his mother. Hers had been a sharp mind with the instincts of
an accomplished journalist. Serina. Apollo closed his eyes and saw her
face in his mind's eye.  I've tried to be a good father to him, my love.
I swear I've tried my best.
     "Dad, are you alright?" it seemed to Boxey that a cloud had passed
over his father's face.
     "Oh, um, yeah, I'm fine," Apollo smiled through the tears that had
threatened to escape from his eyes and he measured his next words
carefully, "I was just thinking about Mommy and how much you remind me of
her."
     Boxey smiled at the mention of his beloved mother and reached up to
put his small arms around Apollo's neck, "It's okay, Dad. I don't think
Mommy will mind if we love Sheba, too."
     The tears now flowed from the Captain's eyes as he held the boy's
small, warm body gently in his arms.
     Once he felt able to speak, he released his grip and tucked Boxey
back under the soft covers of Adama's bed.
     "Now, when did you get so smart?" Apollo asked with a small smile.
     "Dad, is Grandpa sending you on the survey tomorrow to punish you
for what happened with the daggits?" Boxey asked impishly as he returned
the smile.
     "Never mind, you," the Captain tweaked the boy's nose between a
thumb and forefinger, "I won't even ask where you heard that. Now, it's
time for you to say good night, my Son."
     "Dad, will you stay with me and Muffy until I fall asleep," the
child's voice became more distant and his eyelids heavier.
     "Sure, son," Apollo said quietly, as he lay down gently on the
covers beside Boxey and tucked an arm securely around the boy's small
shoulders. He stayed that way for a good while even after the boy had
drifted off, thoughtfully watching the face of  his sleeping child.

***

Chapter Two
Scene One

     The survey team emerged from the shuttle to stand on the edge of a
circular courtyard that was skirted by several obviously ancient
buildings.
     "I don't understand it, Sir,"  Corporal Komma addressed Apollo while
the other members of the team ventured cautiously into the center of the
courtyard, "The survey scanners on the probe vipers should have picked up
these ruins. We understood this planet to be nothing much more than
jungle and mountainous regions. The only anomaly was some erratic
magnetic readings, but they were considered negligible.
     "It's the rocks, Komma," Kale, the mineral technician, a short,
squat man with bushy eyebrows and a swarthy complexion, approached with
an ore sampler and handed it to Komma.
     "He's right, Sir, those black rocks are generating some sort of
magnetic field. It's not like anything I've seen before," the Corporal
looked up from the scanner with concern, "Captain, I don't think we'll be
able to get a communications signal through the interference. The
frequencies are all over the place."
     Apollo responded by heading back into the shuttle and striding up to
the communications console in the cockpit. He picked up the headset that
he had placed on the pilot's seat after Komma had landed the shuttle
beside the clearing at Apollo's direction.
     "Survey Shuttle Alpha to Galactica. Come in, Galactica. This is
Survey Shuttle Alpha to Galactica. Are you receiving me, Galactica?",
after several attempts at communication, resulting only in wildly
fluctuating frequency interference, Apollo put down the headset and
rejoined Komma outside, "Nothing but interference. We can't raise the
Galactica from here.
     "Captain," the Corporal stood beside a small woman with long black
curls framing a serious face. She had been introduced to Apollo the
previous evening as the team's soil specialist, "Marta, here says there's
something strange about the soil, Sir."
     "It is strange, Captain," Marta bent down and filled her hand with
some soil from within the perimeter of the courtyard and stood, extending
her hand and allowing the sand-like material to run from her cupped palm
and back onto the ground., "It's sandy here, almost desert-like, but if I
move over here," the soil specialist stepped onto the grassy surface
beyond the dry, sandy circle and performed a similar demonstration. The
soil outside the courtyard was black and moist, more in keeping with the
jungle-like terrain that surrounded, but did not intrude, upon the
courtyard. "I can't explain it," Marta rubbed her hands together to
remove the soil that still clung to them.
     "Do you think it has to do with the magnetic rock?" Athena asked as
she approached the trio with a portable visual recording device in her
left hand She captured images of the courtyard with a sweeping motion as
she walked slowly along the curve of the perimeter.
     "It's hard to say, Lieutenant," Marta responded with a slight shrug,
"this is a form of magnetic field that none of  us is familiar with.
We'll need to take some samples back for Doctor Wilker."
     "Agreed," Athena responded as she completed her circuit of the
courtyard, "but put the samples in a shielded, non-metallic container,
just to be on the safe side."
     "Athena. Komma. Let's check out the largest building. There are some
writings of some kind on the wall by the entrance," Apollo said as he
stepped back into the courtyard," and some kind of rigged up power
cables." 
     Corporal Komma joined Apollo and Athena as they approached the
entrance of a square stone structure It was indeed the largest of several
obviously ancient buildings. "Athena, Komma," Apollo stepped forward to
stand beside the his sister and the Corporal as they studied the
hieroglyphs on the pitted surface of the wall, "what do you think?"
     "I'm no expert, but it looks Kobollian to me, Sir," said the
communications technician.
     "Well, I am an expert," Athena quipped as she moved to join the two
men, "well, compared to you guys I am, and I say that it's definitely
Kobollian. The Commander will be very pleased when we bring back images
of this."
     "Can you read it, Athena? I can only pick out a few words here and
there. It must be in some dialect we're not familiar with."
     "Same here, Apollo. I can only make out a few sentence fragments,"
Athena peered hopefully at the wall, "Here. It refers to a great journey,
but I can't make out any details. If only Father were here."
     "He'll have plenty of time to decipher the images when we get back,"
the Captain tore his eyes away from the wall, "In the meantime, there's a
survey to complete," he turned back toward the Corporal who still gazed
in awe at the ancient writings, "Komma," Apollo waited a micron as the
other warrior turned his head and waited expectantly for his Captain's
orders, "You and the rest of the team take the shuttle and proceed to the
survey site. Athena and I will stay here and document as much as we can.
That ridge," the Captain pointed toward the misty peaks visible on the
horizon, "would surely interfere with any ground to ground communications
even without the magnetic interference, so get as much done as you can
and get back here in," the Captain paused to press a button on the side
of his chronometer and breathed a sigh of relief that, unlike the metal
laden communications equipment, their chronometers were designed with a
non-metallic crystalline substance that was not severely affected by
magnetism. Komma followed suit and the two men synchronized their time
displays, "make it twelve centaurs."
     "Skipper, are you sure we should split up? There's not much rubble
laying on those power cables, but it's all over virtually every other
surface. Someone's been here within the last few sectons. What if it's
Cylons, Sir? And what if they come back?"
     "Komma, we have no way of knowing at present who put this lighting
up. We can't jump to conclusions and finding the minerals we need is our
first priority," Apollo continued as he glanced down at one of the
slightly corroded power cables that lay like a coiled reptile on the
dusty ground in front of the entrance to the structure, "It's a mish-mash
of various types of components. For all we know, it could simply have
been left here by an archaeological team from a nearby system. In any
case, we all know the Commander will want to see some images of this
place," the Captain paused to look back at the carvings on the wall, It
will be impossible to keep him from coming down here personally when he
sees this. He turned back toward Komma and resumed speaking, "Since the
magnetic quality of these rocks is interfering with communications, it's
that much more important that you get to the survey site and get a status
report off to the Galactica. If you see any indication of trouble, pack
up and get back to the fleet immediately. Understood?"
     "Yes Sir," said Komma reluctantly, "Be careful, Sir. We'll see you
in twelve centaurs," Komma nodded to the Captain and, then, to Athena and
headed off toward the shuttle, gathering the other three members of the
team as he went."

***

Chapter Two
Scene Two

     Apollo and Athena stood together at the entrance to the ancient
building as they watched the shuttle lifting off several metrons away
beyond the edge of the ruins. The craft banked slightly as it cleared the
nearby outcroppings of reflective black rock. Then, it levelled and
headed on a trajectory over the ridge to the survey site that had been
indicated by the Galactica's computers as a likely source of  tylium and
other minerals needed by the Colonial Fleet.
     "Komma was right, you know," Athena said. She turned to face Apollo
after glancing speculatively toward the doorway behind them, "Whomever
left those lights behind might be intending to come back and they might
not be archaeologists."
     "I know," the Captain said with a slight sigh, "but if we pack up
and run back to the ship every time we see something that could be
dangerous, we may never find any tylium," Apollo smiled slightly at his
sister, "not to mention the diminished chances of picking up the trail of
the Thirteenth Colony," his tone had become more hushed as he gazed at
the hieroglyphs they'd discovered on a wall adjacent to the front of the
ruggedly weathered stone building. Apollo felt a brief chill as memories
of another place came uninvited into his thoughts, Kobol. Most Colonials
considered the planet Kobol to be the cradle of life for all mankind. To
Apollo, it would always be a planet of death. It was there, little more
than a yahren ago that his beloved bride, Serina, had suffered a mortal
wound from a Cylon laser rifle.
     "Is that why you ordered Komma to land here first, when we detected
the ruins?" Athena said distractedly, "You think the thirteenth tribe
might have built them?"
     Apollo took a deep, cleansing breath and returned his thoughts to
the present. He exhaled slowly. Hearing Athena's footfalls, he turned to
see his sister brushing the dust off of a panel on the badly corroded
piece of equipment that sat in the midst of a large coil of insulated,
but equally corroded cables.
     "I think this might be a generator. I wonder if it's charged?," she
crouched to study the panel in front of her, and decisively threw a
switch.
     "Careful," Apollo began to speak, but his cautionary words were cut
short by a low-pitched rumbling that had begun to emanate from the
apparently makeshift generator. Within a few microns, the darkness beyond
the doorway was illuminated by a series of softly glowing orbs suspended
from the cables attached to the ceiling that, it appeared to the two
warriors, seemed to slope downward over some distance toward the
interior. Apollo shot his sister a look of disapproval, but remained
silent as he turned and walked over to the spot where Komma had deposited
one of the visual recording devices and two standard issue Colonial
Survival Packs.
     "Shall we, Captain?" Athena nodded toward the entrance as she moved
to accept the pack that her brother offered her. Adjusting the straps
over their shoulders and midsections, and checking the laser pistols in
the holsters that each had strapped securely to their left legs, brother
and sister proceeded slowly and cautiously into the building.
     The glowing orbs suspended from the ceiling cast a diffused light
that resulted in a yellowish glow, much like a lighted candle in a
darkened room. Apollo looked upward at the cables through which the
lights were drawing their power.
     "I doubt if the Cylons would go to this kind of trouble to wire up
lights. It would be more efficient for them to use their night vision
sensors," Apollo observed quietly. His words echoed flatly through the
chamber as he input the parameter settings on the visual recording device
he'd retrieved with the survival packs. After quickly testing the
playback mode with an image of Athena descending slowly into the interior
of the structure with her own recording device still in hand, he took one
last recording sweep of the immediate area and then followed closely
behind her.
     The two young warriors made their way down the gently sloping floor
of the wide low-ceiling corridor.
     "I wonder who built this place?" Athena asked with the same slight
echo of  sound meeting stone that had thrown Apollo's words back at him.
     "I wonder how far down this corridor will take us," the Captain said
as he moved the recording device from side to side in a slow, steady
rhythm. "Just a centon," Apollo hesitated as he peered down at the small
holographic crystal display on the recorder and then over to the
corresponding point on the corridor wall, "there's a vertical rift in the
wall over here.
     Athena stepped carefully over a large, square stone that had
evidently fallen from the slightly arched ceiling to join Apollo near
what looked from her angle of sight to be nothing more than a dark line
drawn on the stone. As she moved closer to her brother, the line appeared
to expand horizontally until it became clear to her that the rift was in
fact a doorway.
     "The floor in this corridor appears to go up," Apollo stepped
cautiously toward the new opening, recorder in hand, "What do you say,
Lieutenant? he glanced at Athena and then at each potential route in
turn, "Down, or up?"
     "Let's try up," Athena said, "The building isn't very high, so it's
likely that there are only one or two chambers up there. We can take some
recordings for a few centons, and then head back downward for a while."
     Apollo nodded as they stepped through the opening and followed the
new corridor upward. The corridor curved as they moved silently upward.
It took only microns to reach the level floor of a large chamber.
     "Looks like you were right, "Apollo said as he swept the room with
the recorder, "this chamber appears to cover the entire upper level."
     "Apollo!" Athena cried, "A star map! There's a star map carved into
this wall!"
     Apollo rushed over to record the entire length and width of the
intricately carved astral map. He then slid the recorder into a
compartment on the side of his pack. As he turned to face the wall again,
a sudden flash of red and yellow registered on the edge of his peripheral
vision. He stooped to pluck a small, rectangular object from the layers
of dust on the chamber floor. He wiped it clean with his sleeve and
turned it over in his hand. As the light from a small opening in the
ceiling played across the surface of the object, Apollo froze and stared
speechlessly at it for several microns. 
     "Athena!" 
     Apollo's sister turned away from the astral map and toward the
unfamiliar tone in her brother's voice.
     "Apollo, what is it?" her tone was one of concern.
     Apollo opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by a loud
blasting sound. Brother and sister stared at each other as they both
recognized the familiar sound of high caliber artillery.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Three

     crash

     The rumbling sound of stone falling against stone interrupted
Apollo's attempt to speak, as a large piece of the floor suddenly gave
way under their feet. Athena reflexively grabbed at the sill of a large,
empty alcove built into the wall. She kicked out in a scissor-like motion
and swung herself quickly up into the alcove. From her perch she peered
down into the rolling cloud of dust that had abruptly replaced at least
half of the floor.
     "Apollo!" she cried fearfully, "Apollo?"
     "Here! I'm here!" the Captain's voice was muffled and sounded far
away.
     Athena exhaled with relief at the sound of her brother's voice.
     "Where are you? I, I can't see you. Are you alright?"
     "I'm blocked in on the lower corridor. I don't think it will take
much to dig my way through. The power cables are perforating the rubble.
Can you make it back out to the entrance from up there?"
     "I think so," Athena called down to him, "There's a ledge running
almost the whole perimeter of the chamber. I can move along the wall and
make it to the back to the ramp".
     "Get started," Apollo responded, "get to the main entrance and see
if it's still clear. I'll join you as soon as I can."
     "Alright, I'm going now!" Athena swiftly readjusted her survival
pack to hang over her chest before she moved to carefully step off of the
alcove floor and brace her back against the adjacent wall. She moved her
feet carefully and slowly in a sideways shuffling motion along the narrow
ledge that was virtually all that remained of the collapsed chamber
floor. It took her about fifteen centons to make her way to the still
partially intact curving walkway that led back down to the main corridor.
She took a deep breath and stretched the stiffness from her back as she
peered down into the near darkness of the passage.
     Athena readjusted her pack, and in doing so, retrieved a small hand
torch and pressed the power switch. The small beam of light pierced the
edge of the darkness as Athena followed it down and into the main
chamber, adjacent to the entrance.
     She felt her way across the chamber's outside wall, retracing what
she hoped was the route back to the entrance. Damn this planet. After
this is over, I'm having a nice, relaxing soak in a...

flash

     Her Colonial training took over as she dropped the torch and spun
around in reaction to someone's hand grasping her shoulder in the near
darkness.
     The hand moved to cover her mouth as she threw a left handed check
blow toward it's most probable source.
     "It's me," Apollo exhaled the words softly into her ear as he
briefly covered her mouth with the hand from her shoulder while absorbing
the shot to his kidneys from her left hand with a blocking maneuver
learned from the same Colonial training exercises. This training was an
integral part of a Caprican military family's life. It had become second
nature to all of Adama's children from a very early age and had sometimes
made for broken furniture and, occasionally, in some lost tempers and
broken bones, much to their Mother's horror and dismay.
     "Apollo," Athena spoke softly, as Apollo did, to diminish the echo
in the darkened chamber. "Thank the Gods. How did you dig your way out so
fast?"
     "It was as I thought. Those cables on the ceiling. They maintained
enough large gaps in the rubble for me to squeeze through," Apollo
crouched down to peer through a crack in the wall through which some
daylight was intruding into the dusty chamber. What he saw made his blood
run suddenly cold.
     "Frak!, Cylons!" he hissed in horror, "But they don't appear to have
realized that there are humans in this building. At least they're not
rushing in here to kill us. I think the generator may have given out from
the damage just before they got here, thank the Gods. We've got to get
out of here and warn...," Apollo and Athena stumbled together against the
wall, as the building was impacted by the shock of a nearby explosion. A
50 megon load, at least. That would explain why the floor collapsed. It
was a shock-wave from an incendiary device.  But it's not ours. There are
no vipers. Who's firing on the Cylons? Could it be...? The Captain's
thoughts ran through his mind one after the other, in quick progression
as he strategically assessed the situation . He released his grip on his
sister and took a small step toward a fresh crack in the masonry work. He
was pleased to see that it afforded them a wider view of the Cylons' main
area of activity.  "The entrance is clear, but they have it completely
covered. We have to find another way out."
     Another shock-wave rumbled through the building, sending the two
warriors stumbling backward, as another explosion sounded from outside.
Apollo rushed back to peer once again through the widening crack in the
wall, just in time to see the flash of a Cylon centurion's armour as the
robot disappeared behind the row of small buildings opposite the one that
he and Athena now occupied.  Oh My God! They're going the other way! We
can make a run for it!
     "No time to explain! Run!," Apollo said forcefully as he grabbed his
sister's right hand and ran with her out the main entrance and past the
hieroglyph wall. He veered sharply left, in the opposite direction to the
one he had seen the Cylons take.
     Apollo and Athena ran into the jungle as another incendiary device
landed in the courtyard behind them. They didn't look back or slow down,
but kept running as they were pelted from above by small pieces of debris
from the ruins behind them.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Four

     "It's been a while since either one of us has done any climbing, but
I think that ridge is our only way out," Apollo said as he focused the
lenses on the binoculons. The breathtaking view of mountainous formations
rising up through a heavy mist seemed less than spectacular now that he
realized he and Athena would be spending the good part of a planetary day
scaling at least one of them.
     "I agree," Athena said as she watched Apollo tuck the binoculons
back in his pack, next to the video recorder, "We can't see a thing
through this dense foliage, and the ridge is not only the most direct
route to the shuttle, but it's the least likely place to find a Cylon."
Athena and her brother both knew that the average Cylon centurion was not
built for navigating mountainous terrain. For some unknown reason, this
flaw in their design had not been corrected even after a millennium of
war with the Colonies.
     "What worries me is what happens once we get over the ridge and down
to the other side," Apollo glanced up at the blue sky above them as he
began pulling a length of rope from his pack, "We'll have to make camp
for the night. We can't make our way through those woods in the dark.
Even if we didn't get hopelessly lost, a Cylon patrol would stand a good
chance of spotting us with their night vision sensors. As it is, we may
have to make a run for it at daybreak."
     "Apollo, do you really think the shuttle will still be there?" she
had to ask the question. "Like you said, we'll have to find a place to
hide out overnight, and if Komma and the others don't yet know about the
Cylons, they'll be heading back to the ruins to pick us up about the time
we've made camp."
     "I know, Athena," Apollo's voice echoed her concern, "But without
communications, the only two places that the Galactica stands a good
chance of finding us is the ruins or the survey site. We just don't have
any alternatives right now," Apollo paused and regarded his sister's
worried expression, "unless, of course, you want to go back and ask the
Cylons for a ride."
     "No thanks," Athena responded dryly. She knew Apollo was right. It
was their best available course of action from a tactical view, indeed,
it was currently their only available course of action. She checked the
sky as her brother had, "We'd better get going. I estimate we've got
about eight or nine centaurs of daylight. Thank the Gods this planet has
such a long daily cycle. I don't care to go climbing in the dark any more
than I want to get lost in the jungle."
     "Here, tie this onto your belt," Apollo handed her an end of the
length of rope he still held and attached the other end to his own belt.
     They stood together for a moment as Athena secured herself to the
line and then joined her brother in looking stoically upward. The rock
face was rugged. They were in for a few centaurs of difficult climbing.
     "Well," the Captain stepped forward and chose a hand-hold that
looked promising. He grasped it firmly and turned to face Athena, "We'd
better get started."
 
***

Chapter Two
Scene Five

     "Do you remember that trip we took through the Kaldaron Province? I
think you were about nine yahrens old at the time. Mother and Father made
their bed over a patch of toxic weeds and didn't stop scratching until we
got home the next day," Apollo glanced down to check on his sister's
progress. They'd been climbing for about five centaurs, but at least the
rough terrain afforded them many handholds and the peak looked to be less
than a few centons away.
     "Yes, I remember," Athena responded emotionlessly as she checked the
slack on the line that connected her belt to Apollo's. Not the most
secure strategy, but they'd had to make due in the absence of climbing
harnesses. She looked back upward in time to see Apollo drive an anchor
hook into the rock and  thread in the line.
     "We've made it. We're at the top," the Captain measured his words
with his breathing as he hoisted himself up over the  edge. He spun
around and planted a foot on the line as he crouched and extended a hand
down toward Athena. She straightened her legs just enough to launch
herself upward and take his wrist in a firm grip as he mirrored the
action and pulled her up to join him on the summit. Brother and sister
moved together and turned to look toward their planned destination as
they brushed themselves off in a small scattering of dust and twigs.
Apollo fished a hydro cylinder out of his pack, took a small, slow drink
of water and offered the canister to Athena, who followed suit by taking
a drink and then handing the cylinder back. "We'd better rest here for
fifteen centons. At least the downward climb won't be as taxing."
     Athena removed her pack and carried it with her as she moved to sit
on a nearby out-cropping. She made room as Apollo joined her on the flat,
bench-like structure.
     "When we get to the bottom, we'll make camp for the night. We'll
stay near the rock wall. It'll afford us shelter from detection on at
least one side. You get a fire going and I'll use the cutting beam
setting on my laser to get some fuel. The wood on this planet seems as
hard as tylium. I hope that means it will burn," Apollo gazed
thoughtfully through the mist that ran vapourous tentacles around the
sharp fingers of rock that jutted upward from the top of the ridge, Alone
on a mountain, You may never get a better chance than this one. His tone
was cautious as he resumed speaking, "We haven't spent this much time
alone together in a long time."
     "That's probably because, until now, we weren't trapped on a
Cylon-infested planet, with no communications equipment and a
mountain-range between us and the shuttle we arrived in. And no
turbo-wash, I might add."
     Apollo smiled wryly at his sister's words, then adopted a more
serious expression, "Are you sure it's not because we've avoided being
alone together? Maybe it's time we talked."
     "About what?" Athena didn't bother to disguise the surprise on her
face and in her voice. Her brother was not one to initiate conversations
on a personal level. In fact, neither brother nor sister had ever been
extroverted when it came to anything other than military  matters. They
were not accustomed to sharing their feelings, unless one considered the
flare of childhood and, on occasion, adult tempers.
     "About Zac, for one thing," Apollo's words cut through her
consciousness like a sharpened blade.
     "This is neither the time nor the place..." Athena's voice had
become cold and emotionless. Her unfinished sentence was like a warning
to stay back, but Apollo had been waiting for an opportunity to confront
this particular demon.
     "There may never be a better time to talk about it," the Captain's
tone became more determined as he worked up the courage to look his
sister in the eye. He turned to see her fighting back tears. "I know that
it's difficult at times for you to be around me, even to look at me. You
feel guilty."
     Athena started to speak, but Apollo raised his hand and gestured
gently for her continued silence. He spoke softly,  his expression a
mirror for her own.
     "It could have been easier for you if it had been me that died at
Cimtar, instead of Zac. When you look at me, you're reminded of him and
what you've lost." Apollo took hold of her shoulders and squeezed gently.
"I would do anything to bring him back to you, if I could. There are so
many things that I wish I could do differently."
     "Apollo," Athena struggled for words as the tears escaped from her
eyes and began to streak her face. "I have never wished you gone, and I
know that it's not your fault that Zac..." Their little brother's name
hung in the air between them as Athena began to sob.
     Apollo put his arms around his little sister and the two of them
cried together.
     "Athena," the Captain said brokenly. He leaned back and took both of
her hands in his own. "I know how much you miss Mother and Zac. I know
that you miss Caprica and the life we had there. I'm sorry that I haven't
been there for you the way I should have been. I've been grieving for
what seems so long a time, I'm having trouble remembering how it was to
be happy. I'm so sorry that I've let you suffer so much alone. Can you
ever forgive me?"
     "Apollo," Athena struggled to control her emotions, "First of all,
you don't owe any apology to me and I have never wished you gone." The
Lieutenant pulled her hands from Apollo's and reached into her pack for a
cloth to stem the flow of tears. "It's just that when we're together,
just the two of us, there's this empty space that makes us seem so
incomplete. I find myself looking toward the nearest door, waiting for
Zac to walk through. I guess you and I were always so serious and Zac,
well he just couldn't ever sit still. In hindsight, I guess it's like he
had a sense that he had to pack a lot of living into such a brief time,"
Athena's voice trailed off as memories of her beloved little brother came
flooding into her mind, a flood she had been holding back for over a
yahren.
     "Why now?" Athena took a breath and turned back to rejoin Apollo on
the makeshift bench. "What's brought this on? Have you been taking
catharsis therapy or something?"
     Apollo smiled at his sister's attempt to lighten the mood and
redirect the conversation back to him. He understood. It was her way of
saying she was alright, but she could only handle so much at once. This
was something that was going to be with them always. Just hearing her say
Zac's name had made him feel a little relieved.
     "I've decided to ask Sheba to marry me," he said firmly, "and, well,
I guess I just need to deal with the past before I can get on with the
future. For the first time since Serina...," Apollo paused to swallow
hard before continuing. "For the first time in a long time I feel like I
might have a future, like maybe there is some hope to be had."
     "Well, big brother," Athena took hold of Apollo's arm and leaned
against him, "I guess the wounds and trauma left by the Destruction are
starting to heal. We'll both try and make up for lost time. Just don't
expect a big fuss on your birthday or anything like that."
     "Let's just start with making it down this mountain, little sister,"
Apollo smiled and leaned over to kiss Athena's forehead and then
disentangled himself from her grasp. He strode over to where he'd left
his pack and, in a fluid motion, picked up an end of the tether line and
tossed it to Athena, "We've made it through the roughest part of the
journey. The rest shouldn't be so bad."
     Athena caught the line with an equally fluid motion and attached it
to her belt. The two of them shared a look, and, in doing so, each told
the other that somehow, everything was going to be alright. 
     "Let's go," the Captain said as he attached the other end of the
line to his own belt. They both secured their packs and with a last look
around to be sure they hadn't left a trail for the Cylons to pick up,
Apollo and then Athena, stepped carefully down over the edge of the
summit.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Six

     The fire spat out some sparks as Athena stirred the coals and added
three more twigs.
     "I cut off some branches and divided them with my laser pistol,"
Apollo dropped some logs gently behind the smaller kindling. The rest of
it's only about ten metrons away. I'll go back and get it."
     "Stay and warm yourself first," Athena said as she handed him a mug
full of hot liquid. "If my estimation of the equatorial diameter of this
planet is close to accurate, it won't be dark for at least another
centaur, maybe two." She glanced around the clearing as she spoke, then
over at her brother. "Are you sure this fire is prudent? We may have
eluded the Cylons at the ruins, but what's to stop them from picking up
our trail, now?"
     Apollo removed his gloves and cupped the steaming metal mug in his
hands, hunching down a little closer to the fire. Thank the Lords that
Komma double checked the survival packs and rations before we left, the
Captain took a sip of the flavourless protein compound. At least it's
hot, he observed wryly to himself, I'd think a science pool that can
upgrade a mechanical daggit such that it could outsmart the entire
council security force, could make a powdered drink taste better. He
shuddered at the memory of the lecture that he and Wilker had endured
while standing at attention in Adama's quarters, just twenty-some
centaurs ago.
     "That ridge we scaled to get here should conceal the smoke until it
disperses into the mist, if we keep the fire small," he turned toward his
sister."It's getting colder. Besides, I don't think those Cylons were
looking for us. That is, I don't think they were looking for anyone from
the Galactica or the fleet. Those explosive charges that drove them
behind the buildings, and out of our way, didn't come from our
battlestar," Apollo held Athena's gaze for a moment before he continued
speaking, "I think they may have found us."
     Athena's eye's widened in surprise, and then sudden realization
seemed to part her lips as she turned to her brother and said, "They? You
mean...
     "Yes. Those charges made a very distinctive sound when they
impacted. They were the same 50 megon loads that the Galactica uses, but
if the Galactica were engaging the Cylons, there'd be fighters all over
the place. I didn't see a sign of any Vipers or Cylon raiders during that
initial barrage. Did you?"
     "Then, unless there's a Colonial armoury somewhere nearby," Athena
looked at her brother with disbelief," those charges most likely came
from another ship. Another ship like the Pegasus!"

***

Chapter Two
Scene Seven

     "Oh frak!" Sheba clapped a hand over her mouth and cast a worried
glance around the recently renovated rejuvenation centre. To her relief,
it appeared that her outburst had been missed by the decidedly mixed
company that occupied the gaming areas today. She was not used to being
around children.
     It's become painfully clear that I stink at this game, the
Lieutenant sighed at the realization that two centaurs of practice at the
single-player setting had not improved her game in any significant way.
How could a high grade viper pilot fail to shoot a small holographic
cartoon mushie with a plaston stick at a range of less than a metron?
This is so embarrassing.
     The Lieutenant furrowed her brow thoughtfully as she turned the
plaston gaming wand over in her hands. A stealthy expression passed
briefly over her face as she turned in a slow, casual way to look around
the room at the varied group of warriors and civilians who currently
shared the rejuvenation centre with her. She quietly placed the gaming
wand down onto the now unlit Taurean Crypt Raider Game console and  then
absently combed back her hair with her fingers. Those few people in the
fleet who knew Sheba well would have recognized the gesture. It was
something she often did when she was preoccupied or frustrated. In this
case, she was both.
     Moving over to the refreshment cubicle, Sheba filled a mug from a
vegetable protein dispenser and wet her lips as she sat down at a nearby
table. In one graceful motion she set down her drink and spun her chair
around to a position that afforded her a wide view of the room, while
keeping the wall behind her. Cain's daughter never felt completely at
ease if her back was to a door. Such things had been second nature to her
for as long as she could remember, and were as natural to her as
breathing. It was no surprise that the only child of one of the Colonies'
greatest strategists should have acquired such mannerisms. In a
civilization that had struggled to remain balanced in spite of a thousand
yahrens of war with the Cylons, a military family had to squeeze a lot of
living into times when duty had no urgent demands. Duty was often very
demanding. Over time, necessity had blurred the boundaries between career
and home life for most families of warriors. They had become a benevolent
system of clans and sects in a predominantly egalitarian society. It had
been the norm for military children like Sheba, and Adama's children, to
serve on their fathers' or grandfathers' ships. Sheba gazed idly down
into her drink and did not look up again until Cassiopeia's voice
interrupted her silent meditation.
     "You didn't miss that blue mushie thing again, did you?" Cassiopeia
made her way around the table to take a seat beside the gloomy warrior.
The corners of the med-tech's mouth turned up slightly as Sheba raised
her head to meet the steady blue gaze. Cassie leaned forward and
attempted, unsuccessfully, to hide the amusement in her tone. "You can't
be good at everything, you know."
     "Cassiopeia. If I have to play that game when Apollo and the others
get back from planetside, I'm doomed to certain humiliation. You've seen
him play. He's very good at it," Sheba smiled bitterly, "What ever
possessed me to challenge him in the first place?"
     "Could it be that you were too busy studying those dreamy green eyes
to realize you'd been outmaneuvered?" Cassiopeia blinked in an
exaggerated expression of innocence and began to giggle. In spite of
Sheba's best efforts to remain stoic, she found her friend's infectious
laugh too difficult to resist and smiled in a resigned manner.
     "I just wonder what it was he had to talk to me about? He said he
wanted to talk to me and we were making plans to meet somewhere more
private after he got Boxey to bed, when that whole awful Crypt Raider
argument started. Next thing I know, I'm challenging him to a game I'm no
good at, for money I haven't got, and he's got this expression on his
face, like he's got some kind of nervous disorder or something. Then, all
hades breaks loose in the Officer's Club and Apollo, well, you know the
rest." Sheba flushed slightly at the memory of Apollo's lips against
hers. The kiss had been sudden and passionate. And much too brief. She
downed the rest of her drink and leaned back in her chair with an air of
mock despair. "By the way, how is Starbuck? Did they get the mushies
off?"
     "He'll recover. He's been confined to Life Station for a few
centaurs, and he's not very happy about it. Doctor Salik came up with
some kind of lotion for him to try. I've never seen an allergic reaction
like that before. Who knew mushies could do that to human skin?"
Cassiopeia said with a smile as she glanced down at her chronometer,
"Getting back to Apollo, shouldn't he have been back by now?
     "Yes," Sheba said as she checked the time on her own chronometer.
Her brow furrowed in real concern this time, "I hope there isn't a
problem."
     The words had barely left her mouth when the Alert Claxon sounded.
At the sound, the two women rose quickly to their feet and rushed out the
door. They exchanged a quick nod and separated. Cassiopeia headed for the
Life Station, while Sheba hurried off toward the nearest launch bay tram.
She didn't know what the emergency was, but off-duty or not, she wasn't
about to miss any of the action.
     She spotted several members of Silver Spar and Blue Squadron who
obviously had the same destination in mind. She rushed into the first
available space and grabbed one of the spare helmets clamped to the
upright interior supports of the tram. She turned to the warrior standing
next to her on her right and found herself looking into the familiar face
of her sometime wingman, Lieutenant Bojay. Bojay and Sheba had gone
through the heartache of losing their ship, and their Commander, with
some small consolation that they at least had one another.
     "Bojay," Sheba said, as she donned the helmet, "Do you know what's
happening?"
     "Some kind of incendiary devices detonating on the planet," Bojay
responded, "I haven't heard anything about the status of the survey
team." He paused as Sheba's suddenly fearful expression reminded him of
who was on that survey team. "I'm sure they're fine," he said firmly as
they braced their feet against the tram supports and prepared for the
forward motion to begin.
     As procedure dictated, the warrior who took the last remaining space
on the tram called out, "Clear!". The warrior at the front of the tram,
closest to the control panel, took a quick look back to be sure all was
secure and then reached forward to start the tram moving. Within two
microns, they were speeding toward Launch Bay Alpha and into unknown
danger.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Eight

     Athena placed another small log on the fire and stirred the coals
cautiously. With Apollo's reassurance that the mist would disperse the
smoke enough to keep the Cylons from detecting them, she had kept the
fire burning small and hot. No point in tempting the fates too
pridefully, the old adage had been taught to her by the Kobollian priests
and lay teachers whose task it had been to teach the young children whose
parents had enrolled them in The Caprican Religious Studies Academy.
There was a time when Athena had spent many happy centaurs pouring
through the old writings with her father who, for as long as his children
could remember, had been, and still was of course, a respected scholar of
Kobollian Mysticism in Colonial academic and religious circles as well as
an accomplished warrior. Athena shook her head slightly as she pushed the
happy memories of childhood aside. She found they were like a
double-edged blade, bringing pleasure and pain in one stroke. She had
once had a deep faith in the Gods, but that had changed after the
Destruction and, Zac. Her younger brother's life had been extinguished by
that final shot from a Cylon raider as she had watched in helpless horror
from the relative safety of the Galactica's bridge. She'd burst into
tears and run from her father's comforting embrace. That was the moment
when she'd lost her faith. Why did the Gods allow innocents like her
brother and mother to pay the price for the Council's complacency? She
knew that her father would say the will of the Gods was a mystery and
that human beings needed to have faith that there was a bigger scheme of
things at play, that the answers would become clear someday. Perhaps it
was true, she could almost believe it in her mind, but her broken heart
refused to hear any of it. A greater purpose for humanity seemed so
abstract and far away to her when compared to the annihilation that the
Cylon Empire had rained down on her world and so many of the people she'd
loved.
     "Here's the last of it," Athena's thoughts were interrupted by the
sound of Apollo's voice as he carefully dropped another armload of wood
on the small pile beside the fire. "This should be enough to get us
through the night," he sat down beside her in the spot he had vacated a
few centons ago to fetch the last of the branches he'd cut from some
trees a few metrons away, "Just before daybreak, we'll eradicate our
traces and head for the survey site. Gods, I hope the Cylons haven't
found them."
     "Komma's very capable, Apollo. He'll do whatever's necessary to keep
them safe," Athena reassured him. She knew how seriously he took his
responsibility for the people under his command.
     "Anyway," she shook off the morbid mood that had threatened to
envelope her, "You have something else to talk to me about," she paused
as Apollo met her gaze, "What makes you think it's the Pegasus that fired
on the Cylons back at the ruins? I know they were operating with minimal
resources when they went after those basestars so its conceivable that
they might have scavenged the parts for that mess of rigged-up up
lighting in that building, but why the Pegasus in particular?"
     Apollo quietly held his sister's gaze as he reached into his inside
jacket pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular object. He gestured for
her to take it from his hand.
     Athena reached over and accepted what she realized was a customized
flinton of obvious Colonial design.
     "I admit it's clearly Colonial, but..."
     "Turn it over, Athena," the Captain interrupted her and nodded
toward the flinton in her hand.
     Athena assumed a quizzical expression as she turned the flinton over
and gazed at the bright red insignia that was laser etched on the metal.
     "Oh my God," she breathed in stunned comprehension as she and Apollo
gazed silently down at the clearly recognizable insignia of the
Battlestar Pegasus. Athena recovered quickly, however, as her analytic
mind prevented her from jumping to conclusions. Apollo, there was a lot
of varied equipment in that building. This isn't definitive evidence."
     "I believe that the owner of that flinton is the person who dropped
it on the floor. It was in the temple in front of that astral map we
found just before all Hades broke loose and the floor gave out."
     "But why? Why are you so convinced?
     "There's a name under the insignia, Athena."
     Athena pulled her eyes away from her brother's steady gaze and
squinted as she turned the edge of the flinton to catch some illumination
from the fire. She gasped as she recognized the name.
     "It has to be true. It's too coincidental to not be true. The
odds..." Athena's voice trailed off to join the cool evening mist that
had begun to envelope their camp site. The fire flared briefly and once
more illuminated the name etched in auricon on the side of the flinton as
Athena and Apollo both continued to stare down at it in silent
fascination:
     CAIN.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Nine

     "Silver Spar Leader, this is Core Command. What is your current
status?" 
     Bojay reached down to adjust the resolution on his communications
panel as Lieutenant Rigel's voice filled his cockpit.
     "Core Command. Silver Spar Leader," he responded in measured tones
as he studied the scanner in front of him. "I have human life signs on
the planet, but they're fluctuating pretty wildly. I also read some large
explosions, but there's magnetic interference of some kind. I haven't got
any clear data, Galactica. Please advise."
     "Affirmative, Lieutenant," Rigel responded, "Silver Spar and Blue
Squadrons, Proceed in an orbital trajectory over the scheduled survey
site and attempt to scan."
     "Affirmative, Galactica. We're on our way."
     As the pilots of Silver Spar and Blue Squadrons received their
orders and turned their vipers to take the new course heading, another
voice filled the interior of Bojay's ship.
     "Silver Spar Leader," Lieutenant Boomer's voice now emanated from
the speaker.
     "Boomer? I thought you were in Life Station cleaning up daggit
leavings," Bojay said with a dry laugh.
     "Well, I heard the Captain was down on the planet having all the
fun, so I left the daggit duty up to Starbuck. He was pretty choked up
about being left behind, but Salik won't let him out of the Life Station
until they establish that he's recovered from the blow to his head." Not
to mention the rash 
     'Hey guys," Sheba's voice interjected on the ship to ship Unicom,
"are you reading some blips on your scanners?"
     "Affirmative, Sheba," Bojay responded as three small blips appeared
on his screen.
     "I see them, too," Boomer said ominously, "and that's a pretty
familiar formation."
     Bojay, as Strike Leader of this mission, started giving orders in a
calm voice that belied the sinking feeling in his stomach. Cylon raiders.
Frak!
     "All vipers, battle ready. We have three Cylon raiders coming up
fast from behind the planet."
     The pilots of both squadrons gracefully spread out their high speed
fighters and broke off into pairs of wingmen.
     "Sheba, you're with me. Boomer. Jolly. They're coming up fast on
your far right."
     "We have them," Boomer responded as he and Lieutenant Jolly rolled
their ships to adjust their headings and targeted the Cylon raider that
was now beginning to fire on them.
     "Bojay!," Sheba cried, "Coming up on our left. I count at least
nine."
     "Affirmative, Sheba. Let's do some damage to that nice formation
of... Sheba, look out! Behind you!"
     Bojay's warning was too late. One of the Cylon raiders had
accelerated suddenly to within target scanner range and was zeroing in on
Sheba's viper. Bojay twisted the control hard and accelerated to
intercept the raider, but he was microns too late and watched in dread as
the Cylon scored a hit to the left side of Sheba's ship. Bojay targeted
the raider and fired as he continued to accelerate to close the distance
between them. The raider exploded in a dense cloud of sparks and debris
that dispersed into space and Bojay continued his arcing trajectory to
come back around and view the damage to Sheba's ship.
     "Sheba! Come in!" he cried as he glanced down at the blips on his
screen.
     "I'm okay, Bojay," Sheba responded immediately, "but my ship's not
doing too well."
     "Can you make it back to the Galactica? We can cover you until you
get out of range."
     "Sorry, Bojay," Sheba said stoically, "I'm venting fuel, my
indicators are all over the place and my stabilizers are failing. I'm
going to have to land on the planet."
     "Sheba! Negative! Get back to the fleet!"
     "Can't do it, Strike Leader," Sheba said quickly, "No choice, guys.
My stabilizers are going fast. I'll try and come in low toward the survey
site. Sorry to leave the party early, boys. Make sure you come and pick
me up when you're finished."
     "Be careful, Sheba," Bojay said earnestly.
     "Don't worry, Sheba," Boomer cut in as he targeted and destroyed the
raider in front of him with practiced precision, "We'll have you home for
supper. And the Captain, too."
     "Thanks, guys," Sheba said with exaggerated bravado reminiscent of
her legendary father, "I expect to see you soon. Sheba out."
     With a final crackle of static, Sheba's communications ceased as her
ship assumed an acute angle against the curving plane of the planet's
outer atmosphere. Bracing for impact she targeted the general location of
the survey site, and went in low for, from the looks of the jungle below
her, a bumpy landing.
     Here goes nothing, Sheba's thoughts became focussed on the angle of
her trajectory as she held firmly to the control stick. With a final look
at the scanner, she pushed the control sharply up and forward and her
ship began convulsively tearing it's way through the jungle canopy.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Ten

     Starbuck lounged glumly on the bio-bed, his back against the
innermost wall of the Life Station. He recalled with sweet remembrance
the mounds of cubits that had passed into, and then out of, his grasp.
The pilot sighed deeply. The image of Wilker leaning against the back
wall of the Officer's Club came unbidden into his mind. The morose
scientist had deposited himself behind the bar, with a miniscule tumbler
full of orange coloured liquid, and the look of a man of complete
pessimism. In mournful resignation he had handed over the remote control
box to Starbuck and, muttering, 'This'll never end well,' had retreated
to the bar.
     Thank the Gods we had the kid and the daggit with us. If Boxey
hadn't whistled and ordered Muffit to confine the drones and pull Reese
out of the... Starbuck had likened it to an epiphany of sorts, when,
dazed and sticky, he had come to the stark realization that he actually,
genuinely, felt sorry for Reese. That's when Boxey had cried 'Confiscate
those mushies, daggit', and Muffit had disappeared instantly in silent
pursuit of the equally silent drones. They had escaped through the angry
tear in the corridor wall behind the doors of the utility cupboard. The
Lieutenant remembered vividly the feeling of deep certainty that
Commander Adama would surely have Starbuck reassigned to the reclamation
barge. At least Boomer had the sense to grab the kid before the bar caved
in. Apollo would have lost his mind if Boxey had been harmed, Starbuck
moved to sit on the edge of the narrow bio-bed and dangled his legs
fitfully.
     Apollo. Starbuck allowed himself a smile as he recalled the
Captain's reddened face and hasty retreat from the science lab on the
previous day. The entire Blue and Silver Spar Squadrons and some of the
bridge crew had eagerly participated in Starbuck's current betting pool.
Over the last two sectons, at least forty seven percent of the
participants had chosen the 'Sheba puts Apollo in Life Station' option,
although a small number of die-hards had put their currency on various
potential sealing dates. The odds had grown increasingly difficult to
tabulate as the volatility of the subjects had forced Starbuck to allow
for a more liberal and complex selection. The latest wager had come in
only four daily cycles ago, double or nothing on 'Apollo enters catharsis
therapy'. Although the pilots in Apollo and Sheba's squadrons were
placing their currency on variations, every one of them, including
Starbuck, could see that Apollo and Sheba clearly belonged together. 
     Apollo and Sheba. Thoughts of them took him back to another
lifetime, in the launch bay, after Apollo had announced his impending
marriage to Serina. Starbuck, are you jealous?, his friend had asked.
Starbuck had exposed a rare vulnerability by admitting that, in a way, he
was. A frown invaded the Lieutenant's face when the memories of Kobol and
that horrible vigil in Life Station came flooding into his mind. Apollo
had been numb for sectons, retreating even further into reservation and
shyness, only becoming truly animated when Boxey was nearby. Even through
his grief, the Captain could almost always muster a smile for the boy.
     To Starbuck's view, the Captain had begun to come out of himself
several sectons ago, shortly after the two warriors had stumbled upon
Sheba's patrol and, hence, the Pegasus. Starbuck, shocked out of his
gambler's demeanor, had been unprepared for Apollo's reaction when Cain
had switched on the holographic mechanism in his quarters to generate an
image of Sheba. Apollo had visibly started at the sight of her face. I'm
sorry. If  I'd met that young lady, I'd know it. The Lieutenant had known
that Apollo had said the words in part to avoid responding to the
Juggernaut's questions about the first young lady whose image had been
displayed. When Cassiopeia's image had appeared, and it was made quite
clear that she and Cain had been lovers, Starbuck had experienced an
emotion that had previously been alien to him. Jealousy. It was a
complicated relationship at times, but Starbuck now had no fears of
losing Cassiopeia. If the Living Legend himself reappeared, it would be
to find that an understanding had been made clear between Starbuck and
Cassiopeia. Cain was a former lover, and Starbuck was most decidedly in
the present.
     The present. Starbuck's thoughts returned to the people planetside.
Apollo and Sheba. Athena and the survey team. Even in the relative
isolation of Life Station, Starbuck had gleaned enough information from
various med-techs to know that the battle over the planet now occupied
every Galactican pilot in a steady cycle of refuel and maintenance
shifts. Every pilot, that is, except for Starbuck.
     Frak! Why should a bump on the head and a little skin irritation
slow a guy down? Salik was an alarmist. Even worse, the no-nonsense Chief
Medical Officer had ordered that Starbuck be confined to a bio-bed under
constant observation for at least another six centaurs. Starbuck had
considered an escape attempt, but Salik had thwarted him by confiscating
the young man's clothes. Frak it all! In six centaurs, they could all be
dead, he angrily brought his fists down at his sides and into the
yielding surface of the bio-bed. 
     "I know, it's frustrating to be unable to help," at the sound of
Cassiopeia's commiserating tone, Starbuck lifted his head and attempted a
smile at her words of comfort. "Apollo will be alright, and so will the
others."
     "It's just not right that I should be sitting here like this, while
they're all in danger, Cassie," he looked sadly into Cassiopeia's
beautiful blue eyes and asked with a pleading tone, "Couldn't I at least
have my clothes back? These pyjamas are not my colour, and definitely not
my style."
     "Not a chance, fly-boy," Cassiopeia's voice was firm, as that of
someone addressing a small, delinquent  child, "Doctor Salik has issued
firm orders that you're not to leave the Life Station. Starbuck, if you
get into a viper with a latent concussive injury, you could die,"
Cassiopeia's words had ended on a fearful tone as an expression of worry
crossed her face.
     "Don't worry, Cass," Starbuck took hold of her hand and kissed it
gently. He pulled her gently to his side and down to sit on the edge of
the bio-bed beside him, "Sheba will be alright. They all will. They have
to be." The couple sat and shared a gaze of common concern, then, with an
attempt at a cheerful grin, Starbuck put his arm around the med-tech's
slender shoulders, as she, in turn, rested her head against his chest.
They stayed that way a long while.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Eleven

     "Colonel Tigh . Report," Adama climbed the steps to the command
platform. The platform swivelled as Bridge Officer Omega adjusted their
position in the huge command centre. This afforded the Commander an
optimal view of the banks of scanner arrays providing the bridge crew
with a steady stream of information from the viper squadrons and the
ships of the fleet.
     "Commander," Colonel Tigh's demeanor was tightly controlled as he
gestured toward the display over which Omega pored, with his hand to his
headset control, "we've picked up some confusing signals. Silver Spar and
Blue Squadrons have confirmed engagement with at least three squadrons of
Cylon raiders. Where they came from is anybody's guess at this point,"
the Colonel paused and locked eyes with Adama, "At least one of our
fighters has been shot down over the planet. Sir, it's Sheba. Her status
is unclear."
     Adama's face became stony with the effort to contain his dismay. Oh
Lords, What have I done? I've sent both of my children into a nest of
vipers, and Sheba down after them. The Commander stepped forward and
focussed at the task at hand. He knew from long yahrens of command
experience and personal loss that there would be time for recriminations
and self-pity later on. Here and now, it was his responsibility to
project an air of calm and self-control. In order to keep fighting in the
face of adversity, the crew must not see it's Commander lose hope.
     "Any word from our people on the ground?" Adama  leaned over Omega's
console to skim the most current communications traffic.
     "Negative, Sir," Omega responded crisply, "the magnetic interference
is too broad. We're barely hearing any normal static, let alone
transmissions," the young man leaned forward as his attention focussed on
a message coming in over his headset, "Sir, Communications reports that
the experimental long-range carrier scan momentarily picked up two
signals from the other side of the planet's moon. One signal disappeared
while the other seemed to merge into the magnetic frequency interference.
There's no sign of them now," Omega lifted his eyes to face the
Commander, his brow furrowed with concern, "Before we lost them,
Communications confirmed that each one of them was at least as large as
the Galactica."
     Tigh and Adama mirrored the same look of concern as they joined
Omega in studying the signal record that had been rerouted to the main
display of the command platform.
     "Could they have been Cylon basestars, Omega? Those raiders had to
come from somewhere," Tigh's voice was clipped and analytical, belying
his horror over the prospect of a direct engagement with not one, but two
basestars and no element of surprise to help them as it had the last time
they'd encountered the Cylons.
     "Tigh, Omega," Adama's voice was all business as he straightened and
clasped his hands behind his waist in what the crew recognized as an air
of decision, "Whatever may be on the other side of that moon may become
evident later, but for now, we must focus our resources on driving back
those Cylon raiders and extracting our people from the surface."
     "Reports coming in, Sir!" Lieutenant Rigel's voice carried from the
gallery below the command platform," Sir, one of our flybys has spotted
the shuttle. Their status is unclear, and initial reports indicate Cylon
ground troops evident in the surrounding forested area," even with a
great deal of effort, Rigel found it difficult to hide the edge of
concern in her voice as she met her Commander's gaze from below. Every
officer on the bridge could see, as she did, the dire position the people
on the ground were in.
     Tigh's voice interrupted the silence on the command platform, "And
to think that just a few centaurs ago, my biggest concern was to bust the
pogees out of Starbuck for that fiasco with the new survey drones. It
seems so unimportant now."
     Adama cocked his head and raised his eyebrows as he regarded his
Executive Officer, "That's it, Tigh!. The survey drones! Omega, inform
Doctor Wilker that he's to stop dismantling those drones. Tell him to
reassemble them as quickly as possible, reinitiate the tactical defense
program, and arm the compression weapons with armour piercing capability. 
Oh, and send someone to my quarters to bring my grandson to the lift
outside the bridge and tell him to bring his daggit!" 
     "Commander?" Tigh's face registered an expression that could have
easily been one of a man discovering that his closest friend had suddenly
gone mad.
     "Trust me on this one, Tigh," Adama said with an amused smile that
indicated he had understood Tigh's expression quite clearly, "Omega,
carry on the fighter rotations and contact me immediately if those
signals from beyond that moon return. The young man nodded as Adama
turned and ushered Tigh to join him in a hurried walk from the bridge to
the lift entrance access, "Now, we'll need three of our best pilots..."
was the last Omega heard of the conversation as the two men left the
platform and he carried out his Commander's orders, as usual, without
question.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Twelve

     "Oh, frak!"
     The viper's canopy filled with rolling white smoke that forced a
convulsive cough from Sheba's throat as she pulled the emergency release
to remove the clamp that secured the emergency pack to the back of her
seat, and then quickly forced the jammed canopy open with a well placed
kick of her muscular legs. The transparent tylium structure would not
normally have yielded so readily to her efforts, but the damage from the
crash had weakened the seal and allowed the air pressures inside and out
to slightly equalize. Luckily for Sheba, it was enough to facilitate her
escape from the wreckage. Jumping to the ground, with the strap of the
emergency pack still clutched in her hand, she landed with a practiced
roll and ran for the cover of some nearby trees. The Lieutenant knew, as
any Colonial Warrior would, that the Cylons would surely be sending out a
patrol to finish her off. There's no way they could have missed my vapour
trail, Sheba's mind raced in a state of hyper-awareness as she quickly
secured the pack on her back and pulled a compass from a small sleeve
built onto her uniform belt. Frak, the indicator's spinning like crazy.
Could be magnetized ore. Sheba replaced the compass carefully back in her
belt and orienting herself as best she could with the position of the
planet's setting sun, she chose a direction that she hoped would take her
closer to the survey shuttle's position,  and began to run through the
woods.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Thirteen

     "Rise and shine, beauty sleep's over," Boomer's voice carried
through the Life Station as he strode over to the bio-bed where Starbuck
sat, still waiting for his release, "You're out of uniform, my friend."
Without fanfare, Boomer tossed a uniform, boots and two laser pistol
belts onto the blonde Lieutenant's lap.
     "Yee-hah, does this mean I'm sprung from this joint, Boomer?"
Starbuck didn't wait for an answer as he hurriedly began to dress, "Any
news?" he asked as, having quickly donned the pants, he pulled on his
boots and tore off the medical issue pyjama robe that he had been wearing
     "That's the problem," Bojay followed Boomer's route across the Life
Station, "We just know that communications are down planetside, and the
place is crawling with Cylons. All I know is Colonel Tigh ordered Boomer
and me to meet you here and get you battle ready.
     "You're readings are normal, Lieutenant," Doctor Salik approached
with a diagnostic pad in his hand, Cassiopeia close on his heels. The two
came to a stop as the Doctor regarded Starbuck sternly, "how's the
itching?" This was about as close to friendly banter as Starbuck had ever
seen the chronically grim Chief Medical Officer, "I've informed Colonel
Tigh that you're fit for duty." The Doctor paused to glance once quickly
into each of the three young mens' eyes and said gruffly, "Be careful."
Salik nodded inscrutably and left to stand beside the bio-bed that held a
recently wounded warrior from Red Squadron.
     "Yes," Cassiopeia placed her hand on Starbuck's, now fully dressed,
shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes for a micron, "be careful," she
attempted a smile and then hurried off to join Doctor Salik.
     "Starbuck! Boomer! Bojay!" Colonel Tigh's voice carried across the
Life Station as he approached the three warriors, "Come with me! The
Commander's got a job for you three."
     "Tell me it's a rescue mission, Colonel," Starbuck said as the four
men hurried out of the Life Station. He managed a quick nod and wink of
encouragement to Cassiopeia before he passed through the door, "we can't
leave Apollo and the others down there on that Cylon-infested rock!"
     "Cool your turbos, Lieutenant," Tigh responded brusquely as they
rushed toward the lift at the end of the corridor, "That's exactly what
it is, a rescue mission," the Colonel turned to face the others as they
entered the lift, "We're sending you three planetside in vipers," Tigh
hesitated as if struggling for the right words and looked directly at
Starbuck as he resumed speaking, "with the two prototype daggit drones
and Muffit."
     Bojay and Boomer exchanged shocked expressions, then both turned
silently to join Tigh in staring expectantly at Starbuck.
     Starbuck raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak. Sound did
not ensue. He tried once more and managed a weak laugh. His third attempt
was more successful.
     "Since I assume that there's no time to protest, I just have one
request Colonel."
     "What's that, Lieutenant?" Tigh responded cautiously.
     "If it's all the same to you guys," he briefly directed his words to
the other two pilots, then turned back toward the Executive Officer with
that small, yet quietly dramatic sigh that had worked so well on so many
lovely young ladies, but had never once swayed the Colonel, "I'd like
Muffy to ride with me."

***

Chapter Two
Scene Fourteen

     Sheba crouched quietly, her back against a large tree with randomly
curving and over-sized roots that afforded some shelter. She shifted her
weight and pulled downward on the edge of the utility blanket that she
had wrapped around her body. She had been awakened from a fitful slumber
by the silent vibration of her wrist chronometer. She stood, stretched,
and neatly folded the blanket into a tightly rolled cylinder, stowing it
in the survival pack. Looking around slowly, listening to the sounds of
the jungle, satisfied for now that there was no immediate danger
approaching from the darkness of the trees, she sat down on a large
horizontal segment of one of the tree roots that she was still in the
midst of and fished an emergency nutrient capsule out of the foil package
tucked into one of the many sleeves in her pack. She then downed it with
a sip of water from the hydro canister. Sheba pushed back her shining
hair and briefly massaged the back of her neck. She had been running
through the woods in what she prayed fervently was a straight line for
almost seven centaurs, stopping every forty-five centons to warm herself
under the blanket and try to give her over-stimulated body some sleep. At
least the star field is dense here. There's enough illumination to see a
short way into the darkness Sheba looked down at the glowing indicators
on her chronometer.Good thing there's no metal in this circuitry with all
the magnetic interference She had tried several times, to no avail, to
send a coded message with her portable communication device. The message
was sure to be understood by any other warrior, but Sheba had only
succeeded in raising the shrill sound of frequency interference. The
Lieutenant ran her hand through her hair one time before securing her
pack and resetting her chronometer. She stepped out carefully from the
midst of the tree roots and looked up at the star field above her.
Morning's breaking. Time to go. Sheba once more set off running into the
jungle at a steady, determined pace. 

***

Chapter Two
Scene Fifteen

     As the sun began to illuminate their rock sheltered campsite, Apollo
and Athena were busy eradicating signs of their presence. Their sense of
urgency had increased substantially as they'd hunched near the fire
midway through the night listening to the recognizable sounds of fighters
engaging in the upper atmosphere. Then they'd felt the ground shake as
they'd looked up into the night sky opposite the direction of the survey
site to see a vapour trail that ran like an unfurled ribbon from high in
the atmosphere to disappear into the jungle canopy below. Brother and
sister had looked at each other with the same horrified thought. They'd
each had enough field experience to recognize the trail as belonging to
one of their own Colonial vipers, and there was nothing immediate that
they could do to help the pilot in the midst of the darkened, possibly
Cylon infested trees.
     Apollo smoothed with his hands the fresh, cool soil and assorted
ground cover that he had gathered and quickly spread over the
extinguished fire, while Athena secured their packs and brushed away
their foot prints with the leafed end of a small twig.
     <flash>
     At the sickeningly familiar sound of mechanical pulsing that
approached from behind him, Apollo's well conditioned warrior's reflexes
took over. He spun to his feet and drew his laser pistol in one smooth
motion that ended with a killing shot to the chest of one of two Cylon
centurions that had emerged quietly from the jungle behind him. He
whirled to face the second Cylon, but was met by a blow from the hilt of
the robot's sword. His weapon flew from his grasp as he dove to the
ground to avoid a second strike.
     Apollo regained his feet and quickly gauged the distance between
himself and his laser pistol while Athena, laying slightly stunned on the
ground, screamed and reflexively raised her arms in a defensive maneuver.
The second centurion had continued  in it's forward momentum to knock her
from her feet while raising it's blade for a killing blow. She'd had no
time to draw her own weapon and tried vainly to roll away from the arc of
the descending sword.
     With a cry of desperation, Apollo launched himself at the gleaming
robot and the two, man and machine, came crashing to the ground.
     Athena rose to her feet with lightning speed and drew her weapon,
levelling it along a direct line of sight at the Cylon. Suddenly, an
explosive beam of light flashed from behind her, targeting the Cylon
squarely on the chest as it struggled to its feet. The centurion froze,
staggered once and then fell to the ground toward Apollo in a blinding
shower of sparks. The Captain rolled away quickly from the falling mass
of metal and turned back in time to see the Cylon's red optic scanner
cease it's oscillating motion and then fade into blackness as it powered
down and lay dark and silent.
     Athena and Apollo, both visibly shaken, turned to look in the
direction of the killing blast. They were met with the sight of
Lieutenant Sheba, who quickly holstered her weapon and ran forward to
stand beside Athena. The two women exchanged a look that expressed a
mixture of shock and relief before they turned together to look down at
Apollo, who lay on the ground in an attitude of disbelief as he gazed up
at his sister and his...
     "Sheba! That was you making that vapour trail last night? What in
Hades are you doing here?"
     "Saving your life, apparently," the Lieutenant pushed her tousled
hair away from her face and moved with Athena to kneel beside the
Captain. Each woman grasped one of the Captain's arms as they helped him
to his feet.
     "There's no time to talk," Sheba said quickly, cutting off any
pending questions from the other two warriors, "There's bound to be a
whole squadron of Cylons headed this way after all this laser fire. Where
is the survey team and the shuttle?"
     "About five hectons in that direction," Athena pointed into the
trees as she ran to retrieve her pack and Apollo's. The Captain, who had
quickly retrieved and holstered his weapon, caught his pack in mid-air as
Athena tossed it to him.
     "Let's get out of here!" he cried as the three of them began running
flat out in the direction that Athena had indicated. 
 
***

Chapter Two
Scene Sixteen

     "They're completely pinned down," Apollo spoke the words as he,
Athena and Sheba lay side by side on their stomachs at the top of a large
plateau like structure jutting up from the vein of rocky terrain that
sliced it's way savagely through the jungle, evidence of some ancient
upheaval in the interior core of the planet.
     Apollo lowered the binoculons and handed them to his sister, who
raised them to her eyes to briefly study the scene at the survey site,
where Komma and the three young scientists in his charge appeared to be
trapped in the shuttle with no escape readily available. On all sides of
the shuttle, flashing randomly from the cover of the jungle,  Athena
could make out the glint of sunlight on metal indicating what looked to
her practiced eye to be an entire platoon of Cylon centurions. Athena
lowered the binoculons as Apollo had and handed them off in turn to
Sheba.
     "We're at least a hecton away from them. We could cover that
distance in a matter of centons, but even if we could get past the Cylons
in the woods, we'd probably wind up trapped just like the others," Apollo
spoke in a frustrated tone as he struggled to devise a plan of action.
     "I agree," said Sheba as she lowered the binoculons and handed them
back to Athena who, in turn, passed them on to her brother.
     "So do I," Athena spoke in a tone of frustration similar to
Apollo's, "Surely Komma would have taken off  and made for the fleet by
now if he'd had the opportunity."
     "So we know what we can't do," Sheba said, "what can we do then? We
don't even have any communications. I still can't raise anything but
frequency interference." she directed her question to Apollo. As the
ranking officer among them, it was he who had to decide on their course
of action.
     "I wish I knew," the Captain said as he turned to face the two women
on the ground beside him, "I wish I knew."
     "Come on, guys. You're late. You said you'd be coming to take me
home before supper," Sheba said as she looked up into the clear blue sky
and spoke in a tone that, to Apollo's ears, sounded much like a prayer.
     "I hope they're on the way," Athena said fervently, "because we
could sure use some help down here.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Seventeen

     Adama stepped down from the lift onto the deck of the launch bay and
turned to take Boxey's hand as the child stepped down to join his
grandfather.
     "Come on, Muffit," the boy gestured for the little robot to join
them, "this is an important mission. You have to go down to the planet
and rescue Dad," he said earnestly. He looked up at the Commander with
fear clearly evident in his brown eyes, "Grandpa, Dad's going to be
alright isn't he?"
     "Well now," the Commander looked down at the boy with a reassuring
smile that belied his own state of worry, "that's why Muffit's going down
there to help. Doctor Wilker assures me that Muffit shouldn't have any
trouble finding your father and the others."
     As if on cue, Doctor Wilker descended the steps of the rolling
utility platform that served as access to the cockpit of one of three
vipers that stood ready in launch position. He stepped quickly across the
launch bay to join Adama in front of the lift. 
     "We're ready for Muffit now." Wilker said gently as he glanced down
at Boxey. The look of fear was still evident on the boy's face, "he'll be
riding in that viper right there," the Doctor pointed at the ship he had
just vacated, "in the jump seat right behind Lieutenant Starbuck."
     "Starbuck?" Boxey said excitedly, "Hear that Muffit? You get to ride
in a viper with Starbuck!"
     "That's right kid," the Lieutenant stepped down from the lift he had
shared with Tigh, Boomer and Bojay. The four warriors moved over to add
their numbers to the group that now stood in a rough circle around the
primary object of their attention.
     Bark! Bark! Rrrr!
     "It's okay, Muffy," Boxey said as he thumped the little drone
affectionately on the head, "Starbuck's all better now and Grandpa's not
going to bust him down to maintenance detail on the reclamation barge."
     At the boy's remark, the Lieutenant glanced nervously at his
Commander, whose face remained impassive as he met Starbuck's gaze.
     "I'm more concerned about the other drones, Doctor Wilker," Tigh
turned to face the scientist, "I hope we're not sending them down there
to envelope the Cylons in a layer of snack food."
     "No need to worry, Colonel," as usual, Wilker appeared unmoved by
the Colonel's sarcasm, "We've equipped them with a large arsenal of the
appropriate caliber of armour piercing incendiary grade combustion
pellets."
     "Doc, I realize that we could be up against some fire power down
there," Boomer interjected, "but, do you think that's wise? I mean, after
what happened during the," the warrior shot a cautious look at Colonel
Tigh, "incident?"
     "I understand your concern, Lieutenant, but as I've already
explained to the Commander and the Colonel, the reaction the drones had
to the mushies was anomalous. It was down to environment. The drones
reacted to the input they received at the time. Since then, we've adapted
their logic circuits with an automatic master programming override that
prevents them from firing on humans, particularly if they are receiving
input to the contrary. Besides, I'm assuming that Lieutenant Starbuck
won't find it necessary, in this instance, to place a mushie in the
combustion chamber of either of the weapons." Starbuck was quite certain
that Wilker harboured more than a little resentment toward the Lieutenant
over the young man's arguably cavalier treatment of Wilker's creations.
     "What about the terrain, Doctor?" Bojay stepped forward with a nod
to Adama and then Tigh as he joined in the conversation, "Lieutenant
Sheba's viper surely went down in the jungle and we don't even know where
Apollo and Athena are. Our brief  fly-bys over the shuttle showed only
four human life signs. Those drones may have to negotiate some rugged
conditions if we're to find all of our people and extract them safely."
     "That shouldn't be a problem Lieutenant. These drones can stand
quite a bit of abuse, as Lieutenant Starbuck has so aptly managed to
demonstrate. If it weren't for Security Officer Reese's, uh," the Doctor
shot a mournful look at Starbuck, "commitment to duty, there's no telling
how long the drones would have managed to elude the Security Forces."
     "Well, Gentleman," the Commander's serious tone captured the
attention of the entire group, "We'd better get this mission underway.
There's no telling what kind of shape our people will be in when you get
down there," Adama paused as he looked down at the upturned and decidedly
frightened face of his grandson and placed a reassuring hand on Boxey's
head. He softened his voice, "they're probably running low on rations and
they'll be wanting to get home for evening meal."
     "Let's get this show on the road," Boomer followed the Commander's
lead and glanced down at Boxey, "I know the Captain doesn't like to miss
a good meal."
     Wilker handed Boomer the wireless remote, which had been quickly
patched together in the short time that the Commander had given the
scientist to re-arm, and re-program the drones, only centaurs after Tigh
had ordered them dismantled.
     "You probably won't need it, with Muffit along to relay the orders,"
Wilker indicated the small wireless transmission amplifier strapped
securely around Muffit's 'neck', "but after considering what happened to
that unfortunate security officer, it would be prudent to have a
kill-switch in the event of unanticipated input."
     "You all have your orders, men," the Commander reached to clasp the
wrist of each of the three pilots in turn, "and may the Lords of Kobol
guide you in bringing our comrades back to us safely. We will await your
return," the Commander turned to take Boxey's hand as the boy hugged his
mechanical friend and looked into the round impassive vision sensors.
     "Remember to follow orders Muffit, and rescue Dad from those bad old
Cylons," the boy grasped his grandfather's hand as the Commander led him
gently back over toward the lift.
     "Well, Muffit," Starbuck stepped forward and knelt down to regard
the deceptively harmless looking drone, inwardly grateful that Tigh had
anticipated the Lieutenant's reluctance to fly with one of the prototypes
tucked in behind him, "you heard the kid. The sooner we leave, the sooner
we can all be home for supper," the Lieutenant rose and gestured for
Muffit to follow him to the steps of the utility platform where two
technicians waiting to secure the little daggit into the jump-seat of
Starbuck's viper.

***

Chapter Two
Scene Eighteen

     Apollo and Sheba knelt together over the opened casing of the
currently inoperative communications device from which they had extracted
several small metal components. It lay on a relatively flat surface of
the rocky bluff on which the warriors had holed up while attempting to
facilitate their rescue and that of their comrades in the shuttle. The
shuttle itself sat like a tiny fortress in a clearing not more that a
hecton away, completely surrounded by an uncertain number of Cylon
patrols. 
     "I hope this works," the Captain muttered as he reached forward for
the small flat, slightly concave rock that served as a makeshift tray to
contain his now dismantled chronometer, "let's just hope the crystalline
matrix from the chronometer is compatible enough to power up the
communicator."
     "It has to work," Sheba said as she watched the Captain manipulating
the tiny components with a small gripping device that he had fished from
the utility pocket of his jacket. "That's not standard field issue, is
it?" she asked, indicating the small tool held delicately in Apollo's
fingers.
     The Captain opened his mouth slightly at Sheba's words and looked at
the tool with a momentarily blank expression that Sheba found difficult
to read.
     "I, uh, had a small repair to do and I borrowed this from Wilker. I
just put it in my pocket and forgot to return it," a humourless and
self-conscious chuckle escaped from Apollo's lips as he returned his
attention to the communicator on the rocky surface below.
     "Any movement down there?" he called softly over to his sister who
crouched over a weathered rock about three metrons away with the
binoculons held firmly in both hands as she kept a vigilant eye on the
shuttle craft and scanned the surrounding area.
     "Nothing much. The Cylons have tried twice in the last centaur to
storm the shuttle, but it looks like Komma is keeping them at bay. I
can't tell what kind of shape our people are in, but at least they're
holding their own for now." Athena lowered the binoculons to look up a
the deceptively peaceful blue sky, "Thank the Gods they haven't thought
to fire on the shuttle from the air."
     "They've probably thought of it, but the viper squadrons must be
holding them back above the atmosphere," the Captain shot a playful look
at Sheba as he continued speaking, "the one's that haven't been
practicing for their emergency landing certification, that is."
     "Very funny, Captain," Sheba said. To Apollo's relief , she had not
reacted in annoyance at his teasing, "Just remember who it was that saved
your life this morning."
     "Believe me," the Captain responded dryly, "I won't be forgetting
that for a while."
     "So," Sheba asked as Apollo continued to work on the communications
device, "you haven't said much about those ruins you found before the
fighting broke out. From the images on the recorder, it looks like there
might be a chance that we've found more traces of the thirteenth colony."
Sheba furrowed her brow suspiciously at the enigmatic look that passed
between brother and sister, "Alright, you two. What's going on? There's
something you're not telling me."
     "Apollo," Athena said, "I think you'd better take a break. I'll work
on the communications for a while," Apollo got the unspoken message from
his sister's tone. You tell her or I will.
     "You're right, Athena," the Captain acquiesced quietly as he set the
gripping tool down carefully on the 'tray' and, rising to his feet,
offered Sheba his hand and pulled her up to stand beside him. Without
releasing his gentle but firm grip on her hand, he ushered her across the
rocky surface to a large overturned tree that lay wedged into a cleft in
the rock of the bluff. Sitting down on the tree trunk, he gestured for
Sheba to join him.
     "There's something we," he paused to regard his sister, about seven
metrons away, as she now hovered over the communications device, gripping
tool in hand, "There's something that I need to tell you."
     "Apollo...?"
     "Please, just listen for a moment," Apollo studied the delicate
fingers attached to the hand that he still grasped in his own and with a
deep breath in and out proceeded to tell her, as he had told Athena, his
suspicions about the incendiary devices.
     Sheba sat quietly unmoving for several microns until she finally
spoke, "Apollo, I appreciate you trying to give me some hope, but what
are the odds?"
     Apollo held her gaze with his bright green eyes as he reached into
the inside pocket of his jacket. Without glancing downward, he gently
placed the flinton in her hand and then released his gentle grasp.
     Sheba smiled quizzically as she looked down at the object in her
hand and suddenly froze as she clearly recognized it. Her lips parted and
tears began to flow freely from her eyes as she almost reverently stroked
the flinton with the first two fingers of her other hand.
     "Is it real?" she whispered almost fearfully. Over the last few
sectons, she had done her best to be pragmatic and not harbour any false
hope. She could not bear the prospect of being disappointed and suffering
anew the pain she had felt since the loss of her father. Now, suddenly,
there was a concrete reason to hope. Evidence that she could hold in her
hands, "My God, it's true. It's really true. He might still be alive."
     "Yes," Apollo said with a sympathetic smile as her reached up to
wipe the tears from first one cheek, and then the other, "It's true.
There's a very good possibility that Commander Cain is alive, and that he
came through this star system within the last few sectons, perhaps even
the last few days."
     Sheba , obviously overwhelmed, took another look at the flinton in
her hand and, as she closed her fingers over it, began to cry in deep
racking sobs that seemed to tear their way from her chest. Apollo wrapped
his arms around her and held her tightly for several centons until the
sobbing slowed. He stroked her hair and rocked her gently until she
lifted her head and began wiping her cheeks with the back of her free
hand. Apollo's hands came to rest gently on her slim shoulders.
     "I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me," she began
hoarsely, "it seems that lately I'm either yelling at you or crying on
your shoulder. I don't know why you put up with me."
     "I'm in love with you," Apollo said in a level tone of voice as he
looked directly into her eyes with no nervousness, no doubts and, to his
great inner relief, no reddening of his face, "and I want you to marry
me."
     Sheba sat frozen for a second time with her mouth hanging open in
abject shock as she stared at the hand that held her father's flinton,
then at the handsome young man in front of her. It was all so much to
absorb, and under these conditions.
     "I know it may seem unfair to ask you now, after this," he indicated
the flinton that still lay clutched tightly in her hand, "not to mention
the fact that we're marooned, surrounded by the enemy and you've spent
all night running through the woods. I've been trying for a while to get
up the nerve to ask you," Apollo paused as it occurred to him that he may
be babbling, "Please say yes," he said quietly as he continued to gaze
evenly into her eyes, "say you'll be my wife, and Boxey's mother."
     "Yes," Sheba whispered in a barely audible voice, "Yes, I'll marry
you," a smile began to form across her tear-stained face, "on one
condition."
     "Condition?" the Captain asked in surprise, "What condition?"
     "That as long as we live, we will never play Taurean Crypt Raiders
ever again, " the smile expanded across her face as she looked into those
deep, brilliant green eyes. The eyes of the man that she'd loved, she now
realized, from the first moment she'd seen his face in the Officer's
club, those many sectons ago.
     "It's a deal," Apollo laughed happily and kissed his now wife-to-be
gently on the lips, and then sat staring into her warm brown eyes for
what seemed a long time, perhaps even an eternity.
     "Got it!" Athena's voice broke through their reverie as Apollo and
Sheba turned to face her where she sat with the now reassembled
communicator in her hands, "I think we might be able to raise the fleet
with this thing," she smiled at the two of them as they rose and crossed
the few metrons of rocky ground that separated them from her.
     "Congratulate us, Athena," Apollo said enigmatically as he took the
device from her outstretched hand, "We're getting married. I thought you
might like to have a new sister," the Captain grinned at Sheba and then
returned his attention to the communications device.
     Athena rose to embrace her now sister-to-be, "We'll have a proper
send-off for you when we get back," she smiled warmly at Sheba, "as soon
as you've told Boxey the news, we'll celebrate your engagement," she
continued speaking as she watched Apollo manipulating the controls on the
now modified communication device, "and we'll celebrate all of us getting
off of this miserable rock."
     "Are you picking up any signals?" Sheba was suddenly all business as
she peered at the display on the communicator.
     Apollo smiled briefly at Cain's daughter's ability to go from
fragile woman to battle-tempered warrior in a matter of microns. He
followed suit and adopted a more business-like tone.
     "I think it's time we got off of this planet," he said with the
determined tone of a man who had places to be. He glanced at Sheba and
then over at his sister, "Here goes nothing," he said as he closed the
connection between the chronometer crystal and the communications
circuitry.
     A satisfying blast of static emanated from the device as Apollo
moved the frequency indicator slowly back and forth. Suddenly, a sound
pierced the static. All three warriors had recognized the sound of a
human voice. Athena and Sheba watched in anticipation as Apollo slowly
fed power into the tiny signal booster.
     "Probe One, this is Probe Two, ready to try for a landing. It won't
be a soft one," there was no mistaking the sound of Lieutenant Boomer's
voice.
     "Boomer!," Apollo cried into the microphone hopefully, "Boomer! Can
you hear me? Apollo calling Boomer. Do you read me?"
     "Skipper? I read you loud and clear!" The relief in Boomer's voice
was clearly discernable over the tiny speaker, "What's your status,
Captain? Over.
     "Boomer, this communication might not be secure. Implement secondary
frequency scramble to avoid triangulation."
     "Aye, Captain. Implementing," there was a pause as the three
warriors stared breathlessly at the communicator, "Apollo, do you read
me?" the three of them exhaled and smiled with relief.
     "I read you, Boomer," the Captain responded, "but there's a problem.
As soon as you land, the magnetic rock on this planet will cut our
communications. As it is. I've had to rig the crystal from my chronometer
to make this transmission. Any device made of metal seems to be useless
against the interference."
     "Wilker's got that covered, buddy. We're bringing a couple of
portable communication devices of our own. They're supposed to be
impervious to magnetism."
     "Sounds good, Boomer. We could really use some help down here. I'm
up on a bluff about a hecton away from the shuttle in the direction of
the setting sun. Athena and Sheba are here with me, but Komma, Marta,
Hillig, and Kale are trapped in the shuttle at the survey site. They've
been pinned down for centaurs and their status is uncertain. The woods
are crawling with Cylons. We've got to get them out of there!"
     "Hey, Apollo!" a new voice emanated from the speaker.
     "Starbuck! I thought you'd still be in Life Station! How'd you
convince them to let you out?"
     "My new wingman put in a good word for me."
     "New wingman?" Apollo and the two women shared confused expressions,
"Say again, Starbuck."
     "He goes by the name of Muffit, and since he needed a ride
planetside to come and fetch you, I was happy to oblige."
     "Starbuck, the crystal in this communicator could give out at any
micron. You'll have to explain after you land."
     "Affirmative, Skipper," Boomer's voice broke in, "We have a fair fix
on your location. We'll have to land a couple of hectons away and come in
on foot. Like you said, the woods are crawling with Cylons and we don't
want to land right on top of  them. Just sit tight, Skipper, and we'll be
there in about a centaur, hopefully less."
     "Affirmative! We'll be waiting. Apollo out."
     "Acknowledged, Apollo. We'll come as quick as we can. Over and out."
     "Well," Athena's voice cut through the happy silence that followed
Boomer's sign-off, "I'd better keep an eye on the shuttle until our help
gets here," she smiled at the other two warriors as she crouched down
once again to raise the binoculons to her face and watch for signs of
activity near the shuttle.

***

Chapter Three
Scene One

     Lieutenant Jolly removed his flight helmet as the launch bay
technicians rushed to give his viper a quick visual inspection and
refuel. Jolly shifted his substantial frame slightly in the cushioned
seat and adjusted the strap on the extra sidearm he'd grabbed from the
armoury compartment in Blue Squadron's barracks.
     "How bad is it?" Jolly cried as he leaped down from his fighter,
"How soon can you get me back out there?" The Lieutenant's thoughts were
out in space, where the rest of Blue Squadron was still struggling to
maintain a protective blockade, while Boomer, Starbuck and Bojay were
rushing through the atmosphere to implement the Commander's plan to
rescue the personnel on the surface.
     "Don't worry about that right now, Lieutenant."
     Jolly stiffened to an attitude of attention as Colonel Tigh
approached quickly from the direction of the lift.
     "At ease, Lieutenant. I've got new orders for you," the Executive
Officer said as he gestured for the large man to follow him as he
continued toward the connecting hatch to landing bay Alpha.
     As he emerged from the hatch behind the Colonel, Jolly's attention
was drawn to a shuttle craft that was obviously being powered up for
immediate departure.
     "I'm sorry to drag you away from your squadron, Jolly," the Colonel
said as the two men came to a stop in front of the opened hatchway that
led into the shuttle, "but you're the first lucky warrior with Class One
Ground Force Training that's had to come in for refuel and maintenance
since the battle began."
     "Colonel, I don't understand," Jolly said in with an obvious air of
confusion, "I've got to get back out there. If even one of those Cylon
raiders gets a clear shot at our people on the ground, they've had it!"
     "Understood, Lieutenant," the Colonel responded as he gestured to a
nearby technician. The technician rushed over and unceremoniously shoved
a survival pack and a landing canopy harness into the Lieutenant's arms.
     "You're dropping me on the surface, Sir?" Jolly struggled for
comprehension, "But, why Sir?"
     "The rescue team sent back a status report before they landed.
Captain Apollo and his group were able to contact Boomer and the Ground
Probe team by replacing the metal components in a communicator with the
non-metallic crystal from a chronometer. Komma had a similar idea. He was
able to rig a refrigeration crystal from the cold storage cylinder in the
rations supply compartment and got off one brief message before the
crystal gave out." The Colonel paused as he indicated the landing canopy
harness clutched in the big man's hand, "the shuttle's main power
capacitor has had it. It was taken out by a shot from one of the Cylon
ground troops. Even if Captain Apollo's group and the rescue team make it
past the Cylons to the shuttle, they'll have no way of lifting off."
     Jolly's face registered understanding as he quickly began to strap
the harness and the survival pack to his large frame.
     "I get it Sir. You need someone to drop into the hot zone with a new
capacitor."
     "That's right, Lieutenant," Tigh placed his hands on the big man's
shoulders and squeezed slightly with his long, elegant fingers, "It's up
to you to get that shuttle operational." 
     "You can count on me, Sir. Tell the Commander I'll be getting the
Skipper home for supper," both men stared grimly at one another for a
micron, knowing that the odds were against it, but also knowing, as all
warriors knew, that the odds really don't matter when you haven't any
choice.

***

Chapter Three
Scene Two

     Lieutenant Jolly took one last look back into the interior of the
drop shuttle as he squeezed into one of the drop tubes aft of the cargo
area. Promising himself, as he did during every encounter with a confined
space, that he would lose weight immediately upon making it home to the
Galactica, he pulled the front panel of the tube into the locking
position and nodded through the transparent tylium at the technician who
waited at the ready by the drop tube controls.
     Whoosh
     "Jolly felt the deck beneath his feet give way as he assumed an
aerodynamic position and spun around quickly until he was speeding like a
missile head first toward the surface. The planet's atmosphere rushed
over his body with a deafening roar. Within microns, Jolly's sharp eyes
had picked out the tiny shape of the shuttle at the survey site far below
him. It sat like a small island in the middle of  a sea of green and
random flashes of silver. Jolly realized quickly what those flashes were.
Cylons. The rays of the planet's sun were striking the centurions' armour
as random beams of light made their way through the dense foliage of the
jungle canopy. Jolly felt the vibration of his wrist chronometer,
indicating that he had reached a point of optimal altitude. He swivelled
quickly to an 'upright' position, the air around him protesting with a
scream of friction. Keeping his eyes on the shuttle below him, he pulled
the release for the landing canopy and stiffened as the straps attaching
the canopy to its harness tightened forcefully and he was pulled sharply
upward.
     In a matter of microns, Jolly's downward fall resumed as the canopy
was completely unfurled. He manipulated the control straps on the harness
and was pleased to see the shuttle rushing up to meet him. Pleased, that
is, until he saw the Cylon centurion. The centurion had rushed up from
the undergrowth and raised it's weapon to fire. Jolly reached reflexively
for his sidearm, but before he could draw, the ground rushed up to greet
him. Jolly had just enough time to bend his knees before he landed. With
a quick tuck and roll, he came to rest in crouching position, one of his
laser pistols in his right hand, not more than two metrons from the
Cylon's position. As Jolly faced the Cylon and raised his weapon he knew
with a sick feeling of despair that there was no way he would get the
shot off in time.
     As it levelled it's weapon, Jolly saw the Cylon suddenly fall to the
ground in a confusing tangle of flashing silver and light brown. The big
man blinked in shock as he realized what he was seeing. The Cylon, unable
to rise to its feet in time was swiftly rolling down an incline that
gently sloped from the aft of the shuttle to the edge of the jungle
below. Clutched in the Cylon's outstretched arms was the struggling form
of Corporal Komma. Jolly stared for a micron as his mind processed what
he was seeing. He came to his senses quickly, however, as a laser blast
whizzed by him. He tucked and rolled once more, releasing the canopy
harness and drawing his second laser pistol with his left hand. He came
to rest and quickly fired in the direction of the blast. A second
centurion fell to the ground in a shower of sparks as Jolly plunged, half
running, half sliding down the muddy incline toward the prone forms of
Komma and the first Cylon. As he came to a rolling stop beside the two,
Jolly could plainly see the horrific dent in the Cylon's head. Apparently
the Cylon's head had impacted with a large, sharp out cropping of rock
that jutted up like a small pyramid from the ground. Jolly reached
quickly to disentangle the dazed, and mud covered Komma from the now
inoperative centurion's grasp.
     "No time for pleasantries, Komma!" Jolly cried as he handed Komma
the laser pistol from his left hand. Grabbing the staggering Komma by the
muddy, debris covered yoke of the man's uniform tunic, Jolly shoved him
unceremoniously frontward as the two men sped back up the incline, firing
wildly behind them as they made for the shuttle.
     Jolly plunged through the hatchway under the covering fire of the
three survey technicians who crouched in formation in the entrance of the
shuttle, laser pistols firing in steady streams over the heads of the two
running warriors.
     Marta ran forward with her dark hair flying wildly around her small
face and took hold of Jolly's jacket in a surprisingly forceful grip for
such a diminutive woman. She threw Jolly without hesitation into the
interior wall of the shuttle and, spinning on her feet with the grace of
a dancer grabbed Komma in a similar grip, hauling the filthy Corporal
into the safety of the shuttle as she slammed her hand down on the
control panel by the hatchway. As the hatch closed, the other two
technicians ceased their covering fire and turned to help the two
warriors to their feet.
     The five Colonials stood in a rough circle, regarding each other
breathlessly. 
     "Nice of you to drop in, Sir," Komma broke the silence as he
addressed Jolly. Even in his tousled and muddied condition, Komma was
able to project an air of military correctness, "I wonder if you might
have an energy capacitor on you, Sir?
 
***

Chapter Three
Scene Three

     Athena lowered her binoculons and looked over at Apollo with an
expression of abject relief, "Whomever that was that drop jumped beside
the shuttle, it looks like he made it inside in spite of the weapons
fire. I wonder what's going on down there?" Athena's tone was one of
frustration, "why would they drop a single man in?"
     "It could be to establish communications, but I can't see the
Commander sending someone in alone with no intelligence from the survey
team," Apollo answered levelly, "At any rate, we'll have to sit tight
until our help arrives," the Captain walked to the edge of the plateau to
study the impassive canopy of the jungle below, then turned and gave his
sister a friendly smile, "It's not easy having to sit and wait for
people, is it?"
     "No, it's not," Athena responded with a slight laugh, "especially
when you do it for a living." The heavy burden between them had been made
a little lighter. Zac. It seemed to Athena, though it had been difficult,
the speaking of their little brother's name between them had been like an
invocation that had lifted a little of the weight of their grief. She
lifted herself from the ground and slung the strap of the binoculons over
her shoulder. Tossing her dark hair back away from her face, she rolled
her shoulders in an effort to loosen the muscles that had tightened
during her vigil. Not that we can do anything to help them from here, "I
think there's some old Kobollian expression about patience being
virtuous, but I'd rather have a landram with a laser pistol mount right
now."
     "Same here, but I'll settle for whatever Boomer's bringing," his
voice became distant as his eyes fixed on a point over Athena's shoulder.
     Athena followed his gaze and smiled, "She'll be alright, Apollo.
It's just a lot to absorb, having your hope returned to you," her blue
eyes looked deeply into his green ones for a micron. Apollo smiled and
placed a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. Then, he
turned toward his wife-to-be and approached her slowly.
     Sheba sat silently with her back against one of the multitude of
large, black, reflective rocks that jutted up from the surface of the
plateau. She looked up and smiled as Apollo moved  to sit beside her, "I
just can't stop staring at it," she lifted the hand that still held the
precious flinton in its grasp, "What were the odds against you finding
this when and where you did?" she touched the stylized sword and wings
that blazed redly from the reflective, but well scored surface, "He
stopped smoking fumarellos yahrens ago. I think that might be around the
time he started carrying a scepteron. I don't remember all that well. I
was very young at the time. But, I remember that he always kept the
flinton. My mother gave it to him when he took command of the Pegasus."
     "Maybe it was meant to be found, to end up in your hand," Apollo's
voice was gentle, "At any rate, it'll make for a great story to tell your
grandchildren."
     "Our grandchildren," she said, and flushed slightly under his gaze,
the newness of the shift in their relationship made her feel strangely
shy.
     "It's interesting that Cain would just drop something so important
to him, something your mother gave to him, right there in front of that
astral map," Apollo looked thoughtfully at the flinton as it lay cupped
in the hand of the one person other than Cain that had the birthright to
possess it.
     "You think he left it there on purpose, don't you?" possibilities
that she had not considered came rushing into her mind as she considered
Apollo's words.
     "A man with a strategic military mind would use the most direct way
he could to communicate with us right under the enemy's nose. He'd leave
a message that only someone from the Colonies, from the Galactica, would
bother to notice. I don't imagine that a Cylon centurion would stop to
regard a flinton lying on a dusty floor, unless it had orders to do so,"
Apollo leaned back against the rock and lifted his arm to rest it
protectively around her shoulders, feeling a warm rush of emotion as she
leaned into his embrace, "At any rate, it seems that astral map might be
important. Perhaps father will be able to decipher the images when we get
home," he turned his head to feel the softness of her hair against his
cheek.
     "We will make it home won't we?" she asked quietly.
     "Of course we will," he closed his eyes, pressing his lips gently
into her hair.

***

Chapter Three
Scene Four

     "Apollo! Sheba!," the two warriors reflexively rose to their feet at
the sound of Athena's urgent tone and rushed over to join her, "There's
more static coming through," she adjusted the control carefully, "if  I
can just find..."
     "...in Ga-ac--ca," a voice began to emerge through the static and
suddenly cleared, "...Survey Shuttle to Ground Probe. Come in Ground
Probe. This is Jolly speaking. Boomer. Do you read?"
     "Jolly! This is Apollo," the Captain cried into the device in his
sister's hands, "Jolly, that was you that drop jumped in? What's your
status? Over."
     "Skipper! Am I ever glad to hear your voice! The survey team's been
pinned down since they landed, but they've held the Cylons off so far.
Komma's a little rumpled, but I think we can turbo-wash him when we get
him home. I've been trying to raise someone since I got here. What's your
status, Skipper? I promised the Commander I'd have you home for supper."
     "We're fine for now, Jolly," Apollo responded laughingly, "We're
waiting for Boomer and his party."
     Apollo and the two women exchanged looks of relief at news of the
survey team, the three of them smiling broadly at the big man's cheerful
tone. Jolly was Apollo's rock. From the time Apollo had assumed the
position of Strike Leader on the Galactica, Jolly had been the Captain's
right hand. It was well known that Jolly was unswervingly loyal to the
Captain. It was he who started calling the young Squadron Commander
'Skipper'. It was a title that stuck to the serious young man. His pilots
conveyed it as a term of affection, rather than a rank. The Skipper was
definitely an egalitarian in spite of his military clan and aristocratic
background, and he had never assumed airs with those who served under
him.
     In particular, Jolly had been there after his Skipper's wife had
died. Apollo had awakened in a fog after holding Serina's weeping child
in his arms throughout what was certainly the worst night of their lives,
finally falling into a stupor on the viewport seat as his son lay
fitfully sleeping in the inner chamber. Jolly had slipped in quietly with
a tray laden with morning meals for father and son, and a hot drink and
two fresh uniforms, neatly folded, for Apollo. One was the blue dress
uniform that a ranking officer would traditionally wear to a family
member's funeral ceremony, or to his wedding. Jolly had glanced over at
the waking Captain and, setting down the boot that he had been
meticulously polishing, stepped over to place a firm hand on Apollo's
shoulder. "Go ahead and stand under the turbo wash for a while, Skipper.
I'll be here if Boxey wakes up." It was then that Apollo had realized
that the sands of Kobol still stained his uniform, from the destruction
in the tomb just before...  After that, it was for a long while, that the
big man had held the Skipper tightly while he'd cried his heart out on
Jolly's sleeve. Neither of them had ever spoken of it again, but Apollo
had known, and still knew, that Jolly would always be there for them, him
and Boxey.
     "Jolly, do you know what's going on? Where are the Cylons coming
from? Has the Galactica detected a basestar?" 
     "Negative to the basestar, at least for now. I don't have many
answers for you. Colonel Tigh dropped me in to replace a dead capacitor.
My orders are to get the shuttle ready for lift-off and wait for the
Ground Probe to get you here. The fellas are bringing some special
equipment to get you past the Cylons."
     "Jolly, what if you just lift-off and we catch a ride with the
Ground Probe?"
     "Negative, Skipper. They managed to get a message off to the Colonel
after they landed about a centaur ago. They ran right into a patrol and
had to move fast. It's not likely the Cylons will leave the vipers in any
condition for them to come back and take off. Colonel Tigh's pretty
steamed about losing three more ships, but at least the guys are alright.
They should be moving in on your position any time, by my reckoning."
     "Very well, Jolly," Apollo was all business now. At last, we can do
something, "Get those repairs completed and keep a look-out for us. I
think we're all ready to come home for supper. Apollo out."
     "Understood, Skipper. We'll be waiting for you. Over and out."
     As the transmission ended, the three children of the last remaining
Battlestar Commanders stood and grinned happily at one another in quiet
relief.

***
 
Chapter Three
Scene Five

     Apollo stood at the edge of  the plateau, binoculons raised to his
eyes, brow furrowed in thought, "I don't understand it. I don't see any
sign of Cylon activity near the shuttle now. It's like they all just
suddenly left," he lowered the binoculons to meet the gaze of the woman
who, only centaurs ago, had agreed to be his wife. Sheba stood by his
side as they pondered this new development.
     "Maybe they've gone after the rescue team," Cain's daughter said the
words reluctantly, but ever the strategic warrior, she could not ignore
the possibilities. "Wait! Do you hear that? Weapons fire! And it's coming
this way!," Sheba drew her weapon quickly as the words escaped from her
mouth.
     Apollo stowed the binoculons and drew his own weapon. He glanced
over his shoulder to see Athena rushing to join them, laser pistol in
hand. All three of them dove quickly behind the largest of the many
nearby rock formations. Apollo risked a cautious look around the edge of
the structure and was met by the sight of sunlight flashing on metal. He
raised his laser pistol, but interrupted his own movement as he realized
that this was no Cylon centurion emerging from the foliage to climb to
the surface of the plateau.
     "Muffy!", the Captain cried as he recognized his son's mechanical
companion and lowered the laser pistol to his side, leaving the shelter
of the rock, "Starbuck wasn't kidding. But I don't understand..."
     "Might take a bit of explaining, Captain. I don't think we have
time."
     "Boomer!"
     Athena and Sheba rushed to stand behind the Captain, sharing a smile
of relief as they heard the dark Lieutenant's name escape his lips.
     "Boomer, what...?" the Captain's words were cut short as Starbuck,
and then Bojay, appeared to stand beside Boomer and Muffit.
     "What's the matter with you three?" Starbuck's voice was like music
to the Captain's ears, "What's with all the standing around with your
mouths open? Don't you know a rescue party when you see one?" Apollo's
gaze followed the direction of Starbuck's gesturing hand and felt his
mouth fly even further open at the sight of  Drone One and Drone Two
moving obediently to sit behind Muffit and await further input.
     "Bojay!" Sheba cried joyfully, "I didn't know you'd come along on
this mission. Space battle getting too tame for you?" Even in the darkest
situations, Sheba managed to come across with a bit of characteristic
bravado.
     "Like Boomer said," Bojay tossed her a laser pistol belt, "We don't
have time," he turned to face the Captain as he gestured to the weapons
that Starbuck and Boomer had stepped forward to offer to Apollo and
Athena. The three of them, Apollo, Athena and Sheba, unquestioningly
strapped on the weapons and tightened the harnesses on their survival
packs as Bojay continued, "the Cylons are right behind us. We're going to
have to make a run for it!"
     Bark! Bark! Rrrr!All six warriors turned at Muffit's warning to see
the centurion struggling up the slope toward them. Before anyone could
fire, Drone One had swivelled at lightning speed and downed the Cylon
with a single well-placed incendiary pellet to the vision sensor. All
three drones jumped silently up and down in a fair approximation of a
pack of excited daggits.
     "Good boy, Muffy!" Starbuck reached down and patted the small drone
dramatically on the head as he stepped forward, "Gives a whole new
meaning to the expression 'barking orders', doesn't it", the blonde
Lieutenant smiled broadly at his Captain, and best friend., "these little
guys have been picking off Cylons all the way up the slope," at the
mention of the Cylons, his expression became more serious, "Bojay's
right. There's no time. We must go now!"
     A loud rumbling sound began to fill the air around them as the
ground began to shudder convulsively.
     "It's some kind of seismic activity," Athena lost her footing, and
Bojay reached to steady her, "but the scans didn't indicate unstable
drift beneath the surface."
     "There's a lot the scans didn't indicate," Apollo cried as he took
Sheba's arm. They struggled to maintain their balance as another tremor
quaked beneath them.
     "Well I don't know about you guys," Boomer shouted, "but I've been
promising to get people home for supper for a while now, the planet's
having convulsions, the Cylons are coming and I'm ready to go home and
eat!"
     "Let's move out," the Captain cried, "make for the shuttle, battle
formation!"
     "Muffy!" Starbuck shouted as he joined the others in a standard
chevron formation, "order the drones to protect and retreat!"
     Rrrr! Bark! Bark!, the drone responded. He joined Apollo and
Starbuck in the center of the phalanx as the prototypes moved to either
end of the wedge shaped  formation, compression weapons swivelling to
cover aft.
     They rushed down the heaving embankment, weapons drawn, and made for
the jungle floor below.

***

Chapter Three
Scene Six

     Bridge Officer Omega touched a series of keypads as a steady stream
of intelligence flowed across the console display in front of him, "We're
picking up signals from some sort of  seismic disturbance, Commander.
I've never seen anything like this, Sir."
     Adama and Tigh rushed to stand behind Omega. The three men studied
the planetary scanner display.
     "This doesn't make any sense, Adama," Tigh said, as he tapped a pad
on a small console at the Commander's station to the right, "these
readings are all over the place."
     "Can you determine the source of the seismic disturbances, Omega?"
Adama straightened and looked over at the main viewer.
     "No, Sir," the young man responded, "It's like the Colonel said,
Sir. It doesn't make any sense. If this deep scan reading over here is
correct", he indicated one of the oscillating waves on the small scanner
to his left, "that would indicate that the planet's inner crust is
composed of a crystalline substance that we've never seen before. It may
be the source of the interference," Omega suddenly turned to face the
Commander, his face registering an expression of disbelief, "Sir, the
crystalline structure. The molecular identification scan filter matrix
has finished inputting into the main computer," Omega took a deep breath
and held up a read-out that had emerged from the slot at the bottom of
the scanner array, "The computer projects a ninety-five percent chance
that the crystalline material that forms the crust of the planet is not
naturally occurring."
     Adama's eye's opened wide as he accepted the slip of paper from
Omega's hand. He skimmed it briefly and then handed it to Tigh. The three
men were silent for several microns. Adama was the first to speak.
     "Omega, are you saying that those scans indicate," The Commander
pointed to the magnified image of the planet and the space battle that
still waged above the skies over the survey site, "that this planet has
been artificially constructed?"
     "Yes, Sir," Omega said simply, "the data doesn't as yet support any
other theory."
     Tigh handed the slip of paper back to Omega, who logged the
information in the main frame and then tucked the read-out into the paper
reclamation tube.
     "Adama," Tigh said with an incredulous tone, "that would be a feat
of engineering far beyond anything that the Colonies were capable of. If
this planet was... manufactured... then who manufactured it, and why?"
     "I don't know, Tigh," Adama said gravely, as he turned to look into
the dark man's eyes, "and until we have more information, we have nothing
to act on, no strategy. All we can do for the present is hope that Jolly
gets that shuttle operational and gets our people off the surface before
the planet gives us any more surprises," the Commander turned once more
to the main viewer, unable to hide the look of concern on his face.

***

Chapter Three
Scene Seven

     "I can't see a thing. The seismic activity seems to have stopped and
the Cylons have retreated for some reason, but I can still hear laser
fire from beyond the rock face," Jolly lowered the binoculons he'd
removed from the storage canister under the bench seat on the port side
of the shuttle and turned to share a confused look with Marta, who stood
ready by the hatchway control panel. "It must be the Skipper," he said as
he took a tentative step through the hatchway to stand on the grass
outside. He raised the binoculons once more and touched the parameter
panel with his index finger, "I hope Komma can get those repairs
completed in... Oh My God!" Jolly silently thanked the Lords of Kobol
that he'd strapped on an extra laser pistol before leaving the Galactica,
"Komma," he cried as he rushed quickly back through the hatchway, "get
that capacitor working right now!," the order had barely exploded from
Jolly's lips, when the generators responded with a powerful rumble.
     "That fast enough for you Sir?," Corporal Komma asked cheerfully, as
he emerged from the front cabin with a proud smile, the severity of the
downhill tumble in the unintentional embrace of a Cylon centurion still
evident in the form of various consistencies of mud and rotting
vegetation that clung tenuously to virtually every exposed surface of his
normally tidy uniform. He stepped over to stand beside the ashen-faced
and wild-eyed Lieutenant Jolly,"I should have the rest of the repairs
done in no time," he said, then  turned to look out of the still open
hatchway. Almost instantly his smile was replaced by a look of
spontaneous disbelief. The sight that met his nakedly unprepared eyes was
like nothing he would have imagined on his own.
     From a narrow passageway through what had previously appeared to be
a solid rock face, some quarter of a hecton away from the shuttle, a
steady flow of heavily armed Cylon centurions had began to emerge. What
drew Komma's attention was what he saw in front of the first wave of the
virtual sea of Cylons. It appeared to be a phalanx of six Colonial
Warriors and a mechanical daggit Komma recognized as the one belonging to
Commander Adama's grandson. All six warriors were running in formation
with faces turned backward, each firing two laser pistols, forming a
retreating barrage of laser fire. The quickly advancing group was flanked
on either side by the same experimental daggit drones that had, two days
previously, destroyed the Galactica's Officer's Club. The drones were
covering the warriors with their own barrage of what appeared to be
incendiary pellets.
     "Komma! Emergency liftoff! Now!", the sound of Lieutenant Jolly's
voice snapped Komma out of stunned immobility. He dove into the cockpit
and, leaving a wake of muddy foliage, he swept his right arm across the
array of toggle switches to the right of the pilot's seat and
cold-started the main anti-gravity booster by smashing the exterior
casing of the booster controls and manically cross connecting several
vari-coloured components and cables.
     Jolly, meanwhile, rushed from the shuttle, weapons drawn and closed
the distance between himself and the approaching warriors. He joined the
phalanx and added his firepower to theirs. The massive column of
centurions continued to advance like swarming insects, the ones in the
back stepping over those in the front as they fell under the warriors'
fire. Every few microns, groups of three Cylons would try to charge the
humans, but Drone One and Drone Two were picking them off with precise
shots targeting the Cylons' most vulnerable parts. The very few that made
it through in any kind of operative condition were felled by the
warriors' fire, or downed by a quick maneuver from Muffit, who continued
to transmit instructions to the prototypes as Starbuck had instructed.
     "Nice of you to join the party, Jolly!" Apollo cried breathlessly,
"I hope you've got that shuttle powered up."
     "Komma's on it, Skipper," Jolly responded in kind, "Looks like you
wore out your welcome!" Even on Carillon, they had not faced this many
Cylons on the ground at once.
     "Everybody inside!" Apollo ordered as he felt the outer shell of the
shuttle against his back, "Move!"
     The survey team stood once again in formation within the hatchway,
providing cover fire as the warriors threw themselves, one by one, into
the shuttle, keeping up their own cover fire as they positioned
themselves at the hatchway beside the survey team. Apollo and Starbuck
were the last to back toward the hatchway, with Muffit and the drones
close behind them.
     "Look out!" someone screamed. Apollo turned at the warning to see a
centurion rush from behind the shuttle and charge straight toward him, He
barely had time to get off a couple of laser blasts to the Cylon's
midsection when Drone Two launched itself at the Cylon, removing the
larger robot's head in a straightforward blow to its neck. The
disembodied mechanical brain flew through the air in an arc past Apollo's
own head as, with a quick series of audible instructions from Muffit,
Drone Two tackled Apollo and hauled him unceremoniously through the
hatchway with Muffit close behind. Starbuck and Drone One continued their
fire as they backed in over the threshold of the hatchway and Marta
initiated the hatch control.
     "Komma! Now!" Jolly cried as he made for the forward cabin. Almost
immediately the main anti-gravity booster roared to life. The shuttle,
still battered from the ever-advancing Cylon laser rifles, lifted almost
vertically as the hatch closed with a satisfying thump. The small craft
shuddered violently as Komma slammed the booster control to maximum and,
with a last violent impact from enemy fire, shot forward and up. Within a
matter of centons, the shuttle had broken roughly through the upper
atmosphere and levelled off as it entered open space.
     "Apollo," Sheba cried as she rushed to his side and took hold of his
arm, helping him to his feet, "are you alright?"
     "I think so," the Captain said uncertainly as he struggled to slow
down his ragged breath and managed a weak smile. He reached up to touch
the side of Sheba's face with the palm of his left hand, "I  think we're
finally going to get that supper everyone keeps promising us!" 

 ***

Chapter Three
Scene Eight

     "Commander!" Rigel did not try to disguise the relieved excitement
in her voice, "We have communications with the survey shuttle, Sir!" the
diminutive Lieutenant turned her  head with an undulating movement of her
long, brown hair to look up toward the command platform with a happy
smile, "Captain Apollo reports all hands ship-shape, Sir! Just a few
bumps and bruises. I have them coming in on a vector for Landing Bay
Beta. Red squadron is providing cover fire."
     "Excellent, Lieutenant!" the Commander returned the young woman's
smile, then turned toward Tigh, clasping the dark man's shoulder with a
firm grasp, "Thank the Lords of Kobol. Our people have been returned
safely to us."
     "Yes, Sir," the Colonel allowed his face to register only a degree
of relief at Rigel's news, "However, we still have several squadrons of
Cylon raiders out there, and no indication of where they're coming from.
Then there's the planet, Sir," Tigh indicated the main view screen and
the image of the planet that it afforded the bridge crew.
     "I know, Tigh," the Commander turned gravely toward Officer Omega's
station and the display that indicated the status of the viper squadrons
, who still engaged the raiders over the planet in centaurs of
mind-numbing refuel and maintenance shifts, "Omega, inform all Squadron
Leaders to fall back slowly, drawing out the Cylons. Put some distance
between them and the planet, then have two vipers launch for a scan of
the other side of that moon," Adama indicated the planet's satellite. "We
still don't know the source of those signals we picked up on the
long-range carrier scan just after our fighters were engaged."
     "Aye, Sir," Omega responded with his usual crisp business-like tone,
reaching up to touch a key on his main console.
     "Commander, Survey Shuttle Alpha has safely landed in Beta Bay,
Sir,"Lieutenant Rigel's voice carried once again to the officers on the
command platform.
     Adama closed his eyes and let out a breath of relief. "Very good,
Lieutenant, have them proceed here to the Command Centre just as soon as
they're out of the decontamination chambers, "the Commander turned to his
Executive Officer, "Tigh, let's hope that they can shed some light on the
mystery surrounding this planet." As it had many times for the last three
days, Adama's gaze returned briefly to the main view screen and the image
of the planet and its surrounding space beyond the bulkheads of the
Galactica. "Omega, carry on pulling the vipers away from the planet and
let me know as soon as you hear anything from the probe beyond that
moon."
     "Aye, Sir." the young bridge officer nodded and returned to his
console displays, relaying information and orders to the various officers
and technicians throughout the vast complex of the battlestar. 

***

Chapter Three
Scene Nine

     "Father, it was like nothing I've ever seen before. As we were
starting down from the plateau, the ground began shaking again. The next
thing we knew, the rock face just opened up and the Cylons started
pouring out. There has to be an enormous amount of space underground to
accommodate so many of them," Apollo spoke as he and his fellow escapees
from planetside stood gathered in a rough circle, with the Commander and
the Executive Officer, in an open conference area behind the command
platform and in front of a transparent tylium screen overlaid with a star
chart.
     "If it hadn't been for the drones, Commander," Starbuck interjected,
"I don't see how we could have made it to the shuttle," the Lieutenant
stood slightly behind the Captain with his thumbs hooked over his belt,
leaning slightly forward with the intensity of his words, "Apollo's
right, Sir," he paused as if struggling to believe his own words, "the
planet opened up virtually under our feet and poured out a massive wave
of centurions."
     "It might not be so incredible as it seems," Adama responded
thoughtfully, "we've had molecular imaging scans that have indicated,"
the Commander paused and cast his gaze around the faces that formed a
rough arc in front of him, "they indicate that the planet may have been
artificially constructed."
     The group stood in silence as Adama's words moved from their ears to
their thoughts, until Sheba's voice broke the silence, "Perhaps it was
built by the Thirteenth Colony," she looked to her right, where Athena
stood. The two women then turned their gaze toward the Captain, who had
turned to share a similar look with each one of them.
     "What is it," Adama's eyebrows rose slightly as he cocked his head
and studied the three enigmatic expressions on the faces of his children
and Cain's daughter, "Apollo?"
     The Captain reached into the survival pack that he had carried with
him from the shuttle, through decontamination, and to the Command Centre.
He pulled out a visual recording device and quickly tapped a series of
keys on the parameter panel. The small screen soon displayed an image of
the star chart that he and his sister had found on the planet. Silently,
he extended his arm to put the image in Adama's line of vision.
     "By all that's holy!" the Commander cried, "Why, this is virtually
identical to some of the writings we found at Kobol. This is a star
chamber, with an astral map, all written in ancient Kobollian script!"
     "There's more, Father," Apollo said quietly, turning to Sheba and
extending his hand, palm held upward, an encouraging smile slightly
lifting the edges of his mouth. Sheba reached into the utility pocket on
her jacket sleeve and pulled out the flinton, almost reverently placing
in in the Captain's hand. Apollo in turn, moved to pass it to the
Commander.
     Adama's face registered curiosity as he studied the object in his
hand, then his mouth suddenly opened and his eyes became wide, "It can't
be," he held Sheba's gaze with his own and then smiled slightly and
continued in a gentler, even fatherly tone, "but it is, isn't it?"
     "Yes, Commander," Sheba threw a glance at Bojay as she did her best
to hold back the fresh tears that threatened to overtake her once again.
The news was just too new and too overwhelming to be processed in less
than two days. She turned from Bojay's look of confused concern to face
Adama once again, "It's a flinton that belongs to Commander Cain. Apollo
and Athena found it on the floor in front of the astral map."
     "Father, the incendiary charges that impacted near this temple while
Athena and I were still inside,' the Captain gestured toward the visual
recorder, "they sounded very much like the same 50 megon loads that the
Galactica uses, but you didn't fire on the ruins, did you? The Galactica
never even picked them up in the initial scans of the planet."
     The Commander stood silently staring into his son's eyes, as the
rest of the group exchanged glances of confusion and wonder. Sheba turned
to catch Bojay's eye once again as the two shared a hopeful smile, and
the same thought as well, We may still see him again.
     "Adama," Tigh said with sudden inspiration, "those signals that we
picked up from beyond the planet's moon. There were two of them, each
easily as large as the Galactica. You don't suppose,...?"
     "Commander!" Omega's voice carried from the nearby command platform,
"Squadron Leaders report that the Cylon raiders are turning back toward
the planet," Omega studied his console displays, "Sir! The seismic
activity. It's returned, but on a much larger scale."
     Adama and Tigh rushed up the steps to join Omega as the group in the
conference area below stood watching the main viewer. The movement on the
planet's surface had become evident from space.
     "It's as if the planet is expanding and contracting," Sheba said as
she moved to stand near Apollo, staring at the viewer, as they all were,
"what could be causing it?"
     "If the planet's artificially constructed," the Captain turned
toward her, "then there must be some kind of power source within it's
crust. It could be malfunctioning."
     Starbuck stepped forward to stand on the Captain's other side,
"There could be a Cylon garrison down there for all we know."
     "Omega," Adama felt his anxiety rise as he watched the longitudinal
wave on the display..., "order all fighters to return home, including
that moon probe. Have the probe vipers return on an elliptical course,
keeping maximum distance between them and the planet."
     "Sir," Omega turned to face his superiors, his face registering
something akin to horror, "the energy readings are approaching a terminal
level."
     "Close blast doors!" Adama cried, eyes fixed on the main viewer.
     Omega responded with a tap of his finger to a key on the main
console in front of him. No sooner had the huge protective blast doors
begun to close over the nose of the ship, than a high pitched sound began
to emanate from the console beneath the energy reading display.
     "Oh my God!" Tigh's voice was the last thing that anyone on the
bridge heard before the planet exploded into an expanding ball of dust
and gases.

***

Chapter Three
Scene Ten

     "Omega! Report!" Adama cried, blinking hard in an attempt to clear
his vision of the lights that appeared to dance before his eyes, a side
effect of the blinding flash that had lit up the Command Centre just
before the blast doors had slammed shut over the nose of the Galactica,
"Our fighters, did they make it?"
     "It looks like it, Sir," the young bridge officer was blinking as
well as he struggled to focus on the console before him, holding tightly
to the microphone of his headset as he monitored communications, "there's
a lot of debris out there. Squadron Leaders report minor damage to some
of our ships. No pilots lost sir. The two moon probe vipers are coming in
for a landing on Alpha Bay. They report no anomalies anywhere on or near
the moon until just before the explosive wave from the planet destroyed
it, Sir." Omega turned to face the Commander, his vision clearing, "As
they were changing course on a return heading, their aft sensors
monitored a massive magnetic signal coming from somewhere beyond the
moon. Readings were off the scale, Sir. They had no visual contact, but
Lieutenant Deitra reports they both heard a garbled signal that seemed to
come from that heading. Both pilots confirm hearing static coming through
the magnetic interference and what sounded like a human voice..." the
young man hesitated as he took a deep breath and continued in what could
only be described as a tone of utter disbelief, "... a human voice. They
could only make out one word, Sir."
     "Yes, Omega?" Tigh interjected impatiently, his own vision slowly
returning as he clutched the perimeter rail for balance, "for Sagan's
sake, spit it out! What was the word?"
     Adama, Tigh, and the assembled group in the gallery below leaned
forward in strained silence, oblivious to the rush of activity and sounds
of the bridge crew and the banks of control panels around them as they
waited for the obviously stunned Omega to speak.
     "It was a name, Colonel." Omega turned from Tigh to face Adama once
more, straightening in his chair and speaking in an eerily emotionless
tone, "Sir, the name was... BALTAR, Sir!"

***

Chapter Three
Scene Eleven

     "But, Commander," Colonel Tigh's voice clearly conveyed frustration
as he paced back and forth in front of Adama's desk. Stopping to face his
old friend and comrade directly, he spread his hands in a gesture of
helplessness, "How can we ignore what we've seen and heard over the past
few days? If Baltar has somehow managed to effect his own rescue from
that planet we left him on, who knows what sort of new threat he could
pose to us, and perhaps, to the Pegasus?"
     Adama rose from his seat, unconsciously rubbing the curled fingers
of his right hand across the surface of the work top. With a thoughtful
gaze, the Commander studied, first, the face of his Executive Officer,
then, the faces of the warriors who stood assembled in a rough
semi-circle behind the Colonel. Apollo stood near the center of the
group, with Athena and Sheba on either side. Starbuck, Boomer and Bojay
were beside the ever fluctuating display monitor adjacent to the main
entry way to the Commander's quarters. To the Commander's left, in front
of the star field framed by the elliptical view port stood Lieutenants
Jolly, Deitra and Giles. To their right stood a slightly less muddied,
but still dishevelled, Corporal Komma.
     "Tigh," the Commander managed a humourless smile as he emerged from
behind the desk to briefly grasp the Colonel's shoulder, "what would you
have us do?" Adama squeezed the shoulder firmly, then released it to
cross his arms over his chest and lean back against the work top. "Even
if we had the resources to do more than send out our usual advance long
range patrols, where would we look? What was the source of those signals
behind the planet's moon? Has Baltar managed to reinsinuate himself into
the Cylon hierarchy? Where did the Cylon fighters come from, and why did
they retreat, only to be caught up in the explosion that destroyed the
planet and its moon? Is Cain out there in deep space, unable or
unwilling, for some reason of circumstance, to communicate with us?" the
Commander's expression softened as he glanced at Sheba, who stood
grasping the flinton that Adama had gently replaced into her right hand
as the assembled group had gathered in the Commander's quarters for this
debriefing. His eyebrows raised slightly as he noted that her left hand
firmly held to the crook of Apollo's right arm. The Captain lay his own
left hand over Sheba's as his father spoke of hers. The warmth in the
look that passed between the two was not lost on Adama.
     "Sir," the group turned at the sound of Giles' voice, "there's no
mistaking what Lieutenant Deitra and I heard as we were altering course
away from that moon. It's our guess," the diminutive Blue Squadron pilot
turned to share a glance with the dark woman beside him, "that a ship
manned by humans was either in pursuit of Baltar, or trying to warn us
about him. After what we've all seen and heard here today, it wouldn't be
an outrageous stretch to assume that we might have intercepted a message
from the Pegasus."
     "Yes, Lieutenant. That is a distinct possibility, considering all
the evidence before us," Adama paused as he straightened and looked
toward the view port, then once more scanned the faces of the warriors
assembled before him, "but we have no action to take, no direction to go
other than the course we have been on since our encounter with Count
Iblis and the Beings of Light who pursued him." Adama's face clouded
briefly at the memory of the insidious Count who had nearly succeeded in
his attempt to lead the Colonial Fleet to destruction and darkness. His
gaze rested once again on the face of his son. Had it not been for
Apollo's determined resistance to the Count and his evil influence over
the people of the fleet, and Sheba in particular, who knew what horrors
their immortal souls would have been condemned to?
     Adama shook his head and returned to the present, speaking with an
air of finality that his warriors knew well, "Until such time that we
have more conclusive information to act on, we shall continue on our
present course and hopefully find a less occupied planet from which to
extract the minerals we need."
     "But at least we have some hope, Sir," Sheba raised the fist that
held the flinton and held it tightly to her breast, "hope that we may be
closer to some answers than we were before."
     "Yes, Sheba," the Commander smiled slightly as he moved through the
group to stand in front of the view port. The assembled warriors,
exchanging glances and tentative smiles, all turned and stood behind him
to gaze thoughtfully out at the star field that surrounded their ship and
the ships of the Colonial Fleet, contemplating the hope that they were no
longer alone, that perhaps the Pegasus was out there waiting to join them
in their search along the trail left by the Thirteenth Colony on their
journey to Earth.

***

Chapter Three
Scene Twelve

     "Boxey," Apollo stepped into the inner chamber of the living
quarters that father and son shared in an area of the ship near the
squadron barracks, allocated for officers with family, "are you almost
ready?" The Captain brushed a stray thread from the cape of his dress
uniform. The Commander had reserved a large section of the dining area on
the pleasure ship Rising Star for his warriors, various technicians and
scientists, and their families. Apollo knew well that his father expected
a degree of formality for such occasions.
     "Yeah, Dad," Boxey's voice was muffled by the tunic that he was
struggling to pull down over his head, with little success. Apollo smiled
as he stepped over to kneel beside the boy and ease the offending article
of clothing into place. As Boxey's head emerged from the collar, Apollo
was greeted with a familiar gap-toothed grin. "Grandpa says that for
Starbuck's sake we're not having any mushies with supper, but Muffy gets
to come because he's a hero for saving your lives on that old planet full
of Cylons."
     "That's right, Son," Apollo placed his hands on Boxey's small
shoulders, "Muffy did a really good job," the Captain smiled and leaned
forward to kiss the boy's forehead, then stood and stepped over to sit on
the edge of the bed that dominated the inner wall of the small chamber.
Apollo gestured for Boxey to join him, "Come here for a centon, Boxey.
There's something I want to talk to you about."
     "What's the matter, Dad?" Boxey asked with a hint of alarm as he
crawled up onto the mattress beside the young warrior, looking up
hesitantly into Apollo's face, "Is something wrong with Muffy?"
     "No, no," Apollo said soothingly, "Doctor Wilker says he'll be just
fine. We'll pick him up at the lab before we catch the shuttle for the
Rising Star," Apollo paused as he struggled for the right words, here
goes, "Boxey, do you remember, before I left for the survey mission, when
we were talking about Sheba? About how you think it might be a good idea
if she spent a little more time with the two of us?"
     "Yeah. Because she thinks she's no good with kids," Boxey looked up
inquisitively into his father's eyes, "Is she gonna spend more time with
us, Dad?"
     "Yes, Boxey. She is," Apollo opened and closed his lips, his brow
slightly furrowed, then continued speaking in the same careful, quiet
voice, "and, uh, well, I was wondering, that is, how would you feel about
her coming to live with us, you and me, and becoming part of our family?"
     "Doesn't she like living in the barracks with Deitra and Brie and
the other girl pilots?"
     "Sure she does," Apollo took a deep breath, just tell him, Skipper,
don't drag it out, "but sometimes it's nice to have your own place, away
from the barracks, like here. Boxey, I've asked Sheba to marry me. To be
my wife, and,... to be a mother to you," Apollo tried to avoid letting
his anxiety show on his face. He felt that he would rather be back on the
planet, facing that flood of Cylon centurions than face the possibility
that Boxey would not accept his plan to marry Sheba. He waited
breathlessly for Boxey's response.
     "It wouldn't be the same as having Mommy here," Boxey's face was
thoughtful, difficult for his father to read, "Would I have to call her
Mom?"
     "Only if you want to, Boxey," Apollo placed a gentle hand on either
side of the boy's face and spoke very softly, with an earnest tone,
conveying the importance of what he was about to say next, "Sheba would
not be taking Mommy's place. No-one could ever do that. Not ever. What I
would like for us to do, is let Sheba make her own place with us," the
Captain moved one hand to the boy's shoulder and the other he held flat
against Boxey's small chest, "a different place in our hearts for her,
without giving away the place that belongs to Mommy. Do you think you
could do that?"
     "Dad," Boxey cocked his head and looked up at Apollo with that same
unreadable look, "if Sheba's going to be my second mom, then," the smile
that Apollo had been silently praying for played across Boxey's face,
"does that mean that I get to have a little brother, or maybe a sister?"
the little boy seemed suddenly excited with this new possibility.
     Apollo, having rehearsed this conversation in his mind, trying to
find the right words, praying that Boxey would not see Sheba as an
interloper to be resented, desperate not to tear open the wounds that had
been left on both of their hearts by Serina's death, was completely taken
off guard by the little boy's question. He leaned back on the bed and
opened and closed his mouth several times before recovering his
composure.
     "Well, uh," the Captain finally managed to speak, "I guess maybe
that's something we'll have to talk about later," he said weakly, then
cleared his throat and continued speaking with something a little closer
to his usual tone of voice, "So, you're saying that you're okay with me
getting married? You think that you could get used to having a second
mom?"
     "Yeah, but it gonna take a lot of work, Dad," the little boy said
with a serious look, "Sheba's a good warrior, but I bet she doesn't even
know how to tuck a guy into bed or tell stories or do any mom stuff,"
Boxey shrugged in an exaggerated way and spread his little arms, very
much, to the Captain's amusement, in the style of a certain Lieutenant
Starbuck, "we'll have to teach her right from scratch," the smile
returned to spread like a new day across his son's now obviously happy
face, "it won't be easy."
     The Captain began to laugh as he felt happy tears welling up and
falling from his bright, green eyes. He grabbed the boy in a firm embrace
and kissed him once again on the forehead, "No, Boxey. I don't imagine
that it will be easy, but as long as we're willing to try, the three of
us, everything will be just fine."
     And for the first time in a long time, the Captain felt that, yes
indeed, everything would be just fine.

  ***

Chapter Three
Scene Thirteen

     "So," Sheba said in a quiet voice, the translucent material of  her
long, strapless gown glowing softly in the subdued lighting of the
corridor. She took the Captain's arm, slowing his pace as he moved toward
the entrance to the Rising Star's formal dining area, where a group of
large tables had been prepared for the Commander's party, "Where is he?
Did you tell him? How did it go? Please say that he isn't going to hate
me," Sheba was unable to hide her fear that Boxey would reject her.
Memories of her own terrible past resentment toward her father and
Cassiopeia came flooding into her mind. The pain of losing her mother had
been sharply intensified when Cain had turned, in his grief, not to her,
but to another woman for comfort, "I couldn't bear it if he was hurt by
us being together," her lips trembled as she waited for his answer,
struggling to control the sense of dread and anxiety that threatened to
overtake her.
     "Don't worry, he's fine. I left him in the entertainment area with
Cassiopeia and Starbuck. He wanted to see the end of the acrobatic
performance." Apollo smiled and reached up with his free hand to push a
stray lock of hair behind her ear, moving to gently caress the line of
her jaw with a light touch of his fingers, then leaned in close with a
careful look to avoid being overheard by anyone else in the corridor, "in
fact, his most immediate concerns, besides keeping his Junior Warrior's
Oath not to share our news before the meal's over, are teaching you the
finer points of telling bedtime stories and finding out whether or not he
gets to have a brother or sister," the Captain's smile widened slightly
as he saw first shock, and then a flush of redness, move across her
expressive face, "and now that he's mentioned it, maybe that's something
that we could consider, um, looking into."
     Relief plainly visible on her face, Sheba gave the corridor a
careful look of her own, "Not until I'm married, Captain," she whispered
softly into his ear, tentatively trying on a new and still unfamiliar
tone of intimacy mixed with a hint of her usual bravado, "what kind of a
girl do you think I am, anyway?"
     "Hopefully a forgiving one." Sheba frowned in confusion at the
unexpectedly cautious tone that had made it's way into Apollo's voice.
There's something I must tell you before we go any further, something
I've done that I'm not very proud of. I should have told you much sooner,
but I just..." With a studied air of stoic resignation, Apollo reached
into the small, utility sleeve on his belt and pulled out a metallic orb
about the diameter of a fumarello.
     "What...?" Sheba's question froze on her lips. Her eyes widened as
she looked steadily at the tiny metal ball.
     "It's, well," Apollo glanced slowly upward until he faced her once
again, "It's the gyroscopic beam stabilizer from a Crypt Raiders gaming
wand," the Captain's voice had an apologetic, almost pleading tone. There
will never be a good time to tell her this. Please, Lords of Kobol, let
this end well, he watched her face carefully as he displayed the object
in question between a thumb and forefinger.
     Sheba opened and closed her mouth several times as a  strangely
horrified look crossed her features.
     "You never vary your strategy from one game to the next. It's why
you rarely win. And," the Captain reached down gently to lift Sheba's arm
while placing the beam stabilizer in the palm of her hand. He carefully
pushed  her fingers such that they closed around the small piece of metal
while his own hand encompassed hers, "It's the reason you always use the
same gaming wand," the Captain cleared his throat," which is why I
removed the stabilizer from one of the other wands," he nodded downward
toward their still joined hands, "I meant to disable my own gaming wand,
so that I could..." Apollo pursed his lips, knitted his brows and
continued speaking with some difficulty, "so that I could throw the game
convincingly." He looked pleadingly at Sheba, as if willing her not to be
angry with him for his subterfuge.
     "You don't need to look so worried," Sheba looked at the floor and
swallowed hard, "You aren't the only one who was going to cheat. I took
the stabilizer out of the wand I was using so that I could 'discover' the
malfunction early in the game and call for a draw and rematch. It seemed
the most direct way for me to avoid humiliating myself any more than
necessary. I know I bullied you into accepting that challenge because of
my bad temper. I figured neither one of us would want a rematch, by the
time we," she lifted her face to look at him with a fair approximation of
his own pleading expression, "calmed down."
     They remained silent for a moment, hesitating to speak, stunned by
the mutual realization that each had cheated with virtually identical
strategies to avoid a game that neither of them had wanted to play in the
first place. They both wanted desperately to avoid arguing this time.
This one time was very important, and they both knew it. There was no
doubt.
     Sheba's eyes became moist with emotion as she struggled regain some
of her previous bravado and smiled tremulously. There was so much she'd
held in since she'd come to the Galactica and tried to face life without
her father. Besides the small group of comrades, like Bojay, who had been
transferred from the Pegasus with her on that chaotic day, Apollo was the
only person who truly seemed to understand how difficult it was to let go
and take another chance on caring for someone.
     "Who cares about a dumb old game, anyway?" she said with a sound
that was partly a laugh and partly a sob.
     "Nobody I know," Apollo said as he drew her closer to him, "Does
this mean you'll still marry me?" he asked playfully. He was more than a
little relieved to see her smile widen as he bent to kiss her. The beam
stabilizer fell unnoticed to the floor.

***

Chapter Three
Scene Fourteen
     "Hey, what are you two up to?" Apollo and Sheba started visibly as
the sound of Starbuck's voice stopped them short of what was surely to
have been a passionate kiss, much to the blonde Lieutenant's obvious
delight. Starbuck turned up the edges of his mouth with an air of assumed
innocence as he studied his friends' faces, "I would think you'd be
hurrying for a hot meal after a couple of days eating field rations," he
spoke in a deceptively relaxed and easygoing tone of voice, smoke wafting
from the fumarello in one of his gesturing hands, "but here you are,
still in the corridor, deep in conversation," Starbuck raised the
fumarello to his lips and pulled a steady stream of smoke into his lungs,
expelling it slowly, head averted toward a nearby air filtration orifice,
then turned back toward Apollo and gave him an appraising look, moving
his head slowly from side to side, but keeping his eyes focussed on his
friend. "There's something going on. I can smell it."
     "Dad!," Boxey's voice interrupted the interrogation as he entered
the corridor with Cassiopeia beside him, "Muffy might get a medal for
saving your life! Jolly said so."
     "Well," Apollo, managing to regain a semblance of composure and
throw a look of mock apology at Starbuck, turned toward his son, "if
Jolly said it, then it must be true. I'll have to look into it. In the
meantime, how about we all go in for dinner?" he gestured toward the
dining room entrance.
     "Come on, Sheba," Boxey slipped his small hand into hers and pulled
her toward the doorway, "you can sit beside me and Muffy."
     Sheba could not manage to hide the look of surprise, and then the
smile of happiness that made their way across her face one after the
other. With a shrug of her shoulders, and a conspiratorial glance into
Apollo's eyes, she allowed the little boy to lead her in to dinner.
     Cassiopeia chuckled gleefully as she stepped forward to take
Apollo's arm and leaned her head against his shoulder in a conspiratorial
manner, "It's nice to see you looking so happy Apollo. Glad to be home?"
She smiled up at the Captain with a very amused air.
     "Yes, Cassiopeia," Apollo gave his friend, the trusted caretaker of
Serina's precious son, a brotherly kiss on the cheek, and touched the
hand that still grasped his arm," it's very nice to be home. Shall we?"
the Captain gestured toward the dining room and, Cassiopeia on his arm,
started for the entrance.
     "Hey buddy, what's the big idea?" Starbuck made a half-hearted
attempt to put a look of sorrow on his smiling face, "Boxey took your
girl, so you think you can take mine?"
     "Oh Starbuck." Cassiopeia laughingly disentangled herself from the
Captain's arm, "Apollo, I think Starbuck's in need of your attention.
I'll see you boys inside," with a smile at Starbuck and a wink at Apollo,
she moved gracefully through the entrance, long skirt billowing gently
behind her.
     Apollo laughed and clapped an affectionate hand on Starbuck's
shoulder, then looked thoughtfully into his friend's blue eyes, "We
haven't spent very much time together lately, have we Starbuck?
     "That's because you've been busy rigging the duty rosters," Starbuck
raised the fumarello to his lips and once again turned his head to exhale
an apparently satisfying stream of exhaust, "It was a very subtle and
barely detectable manipulation, but I happened to notice that every three
to four days there was a little anomaly in your system. That is when I
began to realize the extent of your devious nature, my friend," Starbuck
punctuated his remarks with a gentle poke of a forefinger to Apollo's
chest.
     "Alright, Starbuck," Apollo drawled amusedly, "I should have known
that after all those years of scheming in chanceries, you wouldn't
overlook an algorithm hidden in plain view. It was a simple repetitive
formula to give Sheba the same duty periods that I have and, accordingly,
the same off-duty periods as well," Apollo grinned that rare boyish grin
that few people had actually witnessed him perform, "It ended miserably,
in disaster. She yelled at me and accused me of calling her 'stupid'.
Then she challenged me to a recreational game that neither of us really
wanted to play and I wound up accepting the challenge and yelling back at
her. She called me 'arrogant' and, well, I just had to kiss her. Then you
involved my son in an unauthorized daggit drone race that resulted in the
destruction of the Officer's Club and part of the commissary and let's
not forget poor Reese! What happened to him in the OC was bad enough, but
when they grabbed him in the commissary..." the Captain shuddered
slightly, "then, father sent me off on a dirt-testing mission with my
sister to a Cylon infested planet where the least of my worries was a
fall through the floor of a stone ruin, and then Sheba crash landed
trying to rescue us!" This uncharacteristic stream of verbosity was
punctuated, to Starbuck's considerable confusion, by the fact that his
friend had maintained that irresistibly happy grin throughout. Starbuck
could not help but smile in return.
     "Look. I can understand you and Sheba arguing and saying a lot of
things to one another that you don't really mean. You both do it very
well," Starbuck peered at his friend speculatively, his gambler's mind
trying to read his mark, "I can even understand you changing the duty
roster, although that's stretching your high degree of moral fibre just a
little more than I'm accustomed to," Starbuck paused to point once again
with the forefinger that held the fumarello, the billowing smoke causing
Apollo to cough slightly. "No, Starbuck continued, "what I don't
understand is why you suddenly seem so happy about it. To be honest with
you buddy. given the circumstances, I'd have normally expected you to be
wound up pretty tightly by now. Instead you seem quite, um, relaxed. No
offense, Apollo, but, well, "Starbuck pondered the wording for his next
question, then simply shrugged and said, "what's happened?"
     Apollo raised his second hand in a mirrored gesture of the first and
gave Starbuck's broad shoulders a slight shake as he spoke through the,
still evident, happy grin, "I've asked Sheba to marry me, and she's said
yes."
     The fumarello paused on it's upward trajectory toward the
Lieutenant's lips. Taken aback, Starbuck stared open-mouthed into his
friend's clear, green eyes. Several microns elapsed before the surprised
expression was overtaken by a quickly expanding smile of flashing, white
teeth.
     "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he quipped with a raised
eyebrow, "You do realize that marrying one of your subordinate officers
is not an efficient means of settling a personal conflict, don't you?"
     "I guess we'll find out." The Captain laughed as he removed his
hands from his best friend's shoulders and stepped back with an
exaggerated sweep of his arm toward the dining room entrance, "Now, if
it's all the same to you, can we go in and eat? I gotta tell ya, after
all this talk of an evening meal, I'm starving."
     Starbuck tossed the remains of his fumarello into a nearby
reclamation receptacle and, placing his arm affectionately around
Apollo's shoulders, walked with his friend along the corridor and in
through the doorway.

***

Epilogue

     "The Galactica appears to have resumed its previous heading," the
younger of the two men standing before the view port spoke in a hushed
tone, his face barely visible in the darkened chamber. The soft light
reflected from the star field outside was the only illumination revealing
his companion's chiselled features, "are you certain that you don't want
to attempt another transmission while they're still in range?"
     "No. We've been taking chances we can't afford as it is," the older
man turned from the view port to step quietly toward the adjacent wall of
the chamber, as if avoiding the star light, "we'll continue on a toric
heading, spiral around this galaxy and hopefully intersect their course
as they head into the nebula at the edge of its outer rim. Perhaps by
then we'll have shaken our pursuers. In the meantime," he handed the
younger man one of two small tumblers of liquid that he'd poured from a
decanter on the desk top before him, "we'll continue to conserve energy.
We need everything we've got to maintain the stealth field around the
ship. That magnetic ore may be a godsend, but it plays havoc with our
instruments and consumes tylium like a gravity well." The two men touched
the rims of their drinks together, producing an incongruously musical
tone that dissipated into the dark space around them. They downed their
drinks silently and replaced the now empty tumblers into the wreath-like
decorative wire rack that surrounded the decanter.
     "Do you think those two vipers received the message, Sir?"
     "Hard to say, there was a lot going on when the generator at the
planetary core reached terminal capacity. Let's hope the people on the
surface had enough time to find the calling card we left in the temple
before we had to run those Cylons off."
     "By your leave, Sir," the younger man hesitated only long enough for
the other to nod a quiet dismissal. He moved to tap a key on the control
panel by the doorway and disappeared into the dimly lit corridor. The
door closed automatically behind him.
     "Let's hope..." the older man stood alone and silent in the darkness
of the chamber for several centons, before refilling his tumbler and
seating himself behind the large desk. He reached forward to trip a
switch on the mechanism that stood on the opposite end to the decanter
and its orbiting glassware. He sat back slowly in the cushioned chair as
the holographic imaging device emitted the selected playback mode.
     "Happy birthday, Father. I love you."
     Commander Cain raised his glass to the image of his daughter's
upturned face, as she smiled lovingly at him from the past.
     "I'll see you again, Baby. I promise."

***

'Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny, the last battlestar, Galactica, leads a
rag tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest. A shining planet known as
Earth.'